Chapter 276: Romance

Chapter 276: Worldly Charms

Yet the crowd was too dense, and his sleeve brushed past his fingertips. Xiao Wu watched helplessly as Xie Chunshan was swallowed by the crowd.

He tried to push forward, but the throng only pushed him further away. In the blink of an eye, the black hem of Xie Chunshan’s robe disappeared completely from sight.

Xiao Wu searched anxiously, glancing around, but all he saw was the hazy glow of lanterns lining the street. Colorful paper lamps and candlelight, mingled with sporadic fireworks from the city walls, formed a warm golden river of light, drowning everything in a radiant halo. People came and went—mothers holding children, friends with arms slung over shoulders, lovers walking hand in hand. They passed Xiao Wu one by one, each with their own origins and destinations, all laughing and chatting. Yet standing alone in the liveliest place in the mortal world, Xiao Wu suddenly felt a profound solitude.

Parents, friends, lovers—these common bonds of human affection were things he had never known.

It was strange. Lord Pingwu was known for his aloof nature, accustomed to solitude. High mountains, deep valleys, icy pools, or abysses—was there any place he couldn’t go alone? Yet before the time it takes to finish tea, he already missed Xie Chunshan.

Swept along by the crowd, he was carried toward an unknown direction. A drunken poet staggered past, muttering incoherent verses—something about "the mortal world" and "worldly charms." Xiao Wu paid no heed, sidestepping him, but the black figure he sought still did not appear. His first instinct was to spread his mana to search forcefully.

However, Yunzhou was a major city in the mortal world, guarded by powerful cultivators. Recklessly expanding his mana would surely be detected. Moreover, Xiao Wu had switched to Demonic Arts, making the situation even more precarious.

His fingers paused mid-motion as he considered simply returning to Wuwang Palace to wait for Xie Chunshan. But just then, someone tapped his shoulder. By the time he turned around, he had been pushed several paces away. Glancing across the street, Xiao Wu spotted a fox-faced mask on the opposite side.

The mask was painted with vermillion pigments, its upturned eyes sharp and striking—almost startling at first glance. Xiao Wu hesitated, failing to recognize the wearer immediately. The person then lifted the mask slightly, revealing their eyes, and sighed helplessly, "Immortal Lord, it’s me."

Xiao Wu stopped.

It was Xie Chunshan.

Xie Chunshan gazed at him from afar, the crimson mask tilted slightly on his face. His hand held a folding fan smeared with crystallized sugar, his usual flowing robes replaced by close-cut everyday robes. His light-colored eyes shimmered with amusement, their deep crystalline pupils reflecting the street’s lanterns. From a distance, they resembled a galaxy.

For some reason, Xiao Wu suddenly recalled the drunken poet’s ramblings.

In Xie Chunshan’s eyes, he seemed to glimpse the boundless worldly charms of the mortal world.

Xie Shu waved from afar. "What are you standing there for?"

Xiao Wu pushed through the crowd and stood beside him. Xie Shu looked at him with amusement and chuckled. "Shall we go?"

"Xie Chunshan."

Xiao Wu usually addressed people with honorifics—"Palace Lord Xie," "Pharmacist Wu." Hearing his sudden use of his name, Xie Shu turned. "Yes?"

"Can I hold your hand?"

Xiao Wu quickly added, "Because there are too many people."

Xie Shu extended his hand. "Take it."

His casual ease made Xiao Wu’s hesitation seem odd. Flustered, he reached out and grabbed Xie Chunshan’s… sleeve.

Xie Shu chuckled soundlessly.

He didn’t correct him, simply walking alongside Xiao Wu as they continued down the street.

The midway section of the street grew even livelier, filled with stalls selling handcrafted goods, painted scrolls, ceramic wares, and ornate palace lanterns. A large open space in the middle was occupied by a troupe performing acrobatics—jumping through flaming hoops, fire-breathing, and chest-shattering stone breaks.

Such performances were rare in these times, drawing a tightly packed crowd, their cheers and applause ringing out.

In future ages, such spectacles would be commonplace on television. Xie Shu, having seen it all before, instinctively tried to pull Xiao Wu past them. But when he tugged, Xiao Wu remained unmoved.

Xie Shu turned back. The Immortal Lord stood as if rooted in place, his posture as detached as ever, but his gaze was hungrily fixed on the show.

Xie Shu sighed.

Indeed, Xiao Wu had never seen such things before.

He glanced around—there was no space to stand near the acrobatic troupe, but a nearby teahouse had a street-facing private seat that offered a clear view. So, he tugged Xiao Wu along and went upstairs, ordering some tea and snacks before leisurely taking their seats.

Xie Chunshan, having seen such performances countless times, showed little interest. Xiao Wu, however, propped his chin on his hand, his eyes behind the mask locked intently on the scene outside.

The acrobatics had just reached the fire-breathing act. A bare-chested man took a sip of liquor and spat it onto the torch in his hand, sending flames soaring twenty feet high. The blaze licked upward, and Xiao Wu’s eyes flickered with reflected firelight. He froze for a moment, then retreated slightly—almost imperceptibly—before straightening up again only after the flames dissipated into the air.

Xie Shu: "Don’t get it?"

Xiao Wu: "I observed it. That man is a mortal, with no spiritual power. How can he breathe fire without getting hurt?"

Xie Shu, having picked up these tricks from street performances, explained that the torch was likely soaked in watered-down liquor, so the expelled flames weren’t scalding. But Xiao Wu simply stared at him, his tea-colored eyes puzzled.

Xie Shu: "?"

Xiao Wu muttered again: "Nothing. Why do you know everything?"

Xie Shu found it amusing. With a flick of his fan, he accepted the compliment.

Just then, rustling sounded behind them.

The waiter hadn’t arrived to take their order yet, but the neighboring table broke into chatter. Beyond a folding screen, another group had settled in. Xie Shu’s peripheral vision caught sight of several disciples from the Yunzhou Sect.

They had actually come up to the teahouse too.

Xiao Wu’s mask was still on his face. Xie Shu tugged at the gauze curtain and screen, ensuring their seats were properly shielded. Only then did Xiao Wu reach up and remove the mask.

He studied it briefly: "...What is this?"

Xie Shu flicked his fan: "A cat. Not adorable?"

The vendor’s masks were modeled after various animals, with some depicting fierce ghosts and deities. Among the rows, Xie Shu had instantly taken a liking to this one—a cat, claws out, goofily ferocious.

Xiao Wu stared at the mask for a long while before setting it aside: "...No."

With Righteous Path disciples nearby and cultivators possessing keen senses, Xie Shu and Xiao Wu spoke in hushed tones, avoiding any discussion that might reveal their identities. Instead, they turned their attention to the dishes on the table. Meanwhile, the disciples behind them ordered two jars of fine wine and began discussing recent gossip from the cultivation world.

The cultivation world had few major scandals a year. The last one had been Xiao Wu’s crippled cultivation. The disciples lamented, sighing: "Lord Pingwu is trapped in the Demon Palace—who knows if he’s even alive?"

Another added: "Given Xie Chunshan’s cruelty and the grudge from that Immortal-Demon Grand Tournament sword strike, I’d say even if this one isn’t dead yet, he’s barely hanging on."

They sighed in pity. Meanwhile, Xiao Wu finished perusing the menu and checked off Squirrel Fish.

Xie Shu: "...Still not sick of it?"

Then the disciples shifted from Xiao Wu to the upcoming Immortal-Demon Grand Tournament, sighing: "The Righteous Path has lost Lord Pingwu, while Xie Chunshan of the Demon Palace is still untouchable. How are we supposed to compete this time?"

Another replied: "Brother, you might not know this, but Xie Chunshan, at his level of cultivation, usually doesn’t participate unless it’s a life-or-death grudge match. He observes from the stands, scouting talented demonic recruits to take under his wing."

Someone chuckled darkly: "You said it—usually. But if he suddenly snaps and insists on joining, which of us on the Righteous Path could stop him?"

As they spoke, Xiao Wu’s gaze shifted to Xie Shu’s face.

To be slandered as "losing his mind" by juniors—if Xie Chunshan were truly as cruel as they claimed, he would’ve smote them where they stood with a single palm strike.

Yet Xie Chunshan’s expression remained indifferent. Unfazed, he instead motioned for Xiao Wu to lean in and whispered: "Immortal Lord, if I were to wipe the floor with your Righteous Path, would you step in?"

Story-wise, he should. But Xie Shu’s gut twisted with unease, feeling as though the story had gone completely off the rails without his notice—now utterly past saving.

Xiao Wu was not one to allow close physical contact, having never been intimate with anyone, and was particularly sensitive. With just Xie Chunshan's breath brushing against his ear, his earlobe flushed half-red. Hearing the question, Xiao Wu shot him a sidelong glance and scoffed coldly, "Palace Lord Xie, didn’t you just force me to drink that bowel-melting poison a few days ago? Since I won’t even live to see the Immortal Sect Grand Competition, why should I care who you beat to a pulp?"

Xie Shu: "Uh..."

A few days prior, Wu Buke had taken Xiao Wu’s pulse and noted that his mana circulation was indeed blocked, though he couldn’t pinpoint the reason. He merely stroked his beard, sighing every few steps, "How could this be? It shouldn’t be like this! He should have recovered long ago!"

With the tournament looming, Xiao Wu’s cultivation in disarray was no small matter. Xie Shu promptly forced several bowls of bitter medicine down his throat, all the while spinning tales about how it was a poison that would rot his insides and scorch his heart and lungs. The medicine was so bitter that the Immortal Lord brooded resentfully. Xiao Wu tried to bargain, but Xie Shu refused to relent, leaving him no choice but to drink it all. His expression turned stormy, cold and aloof, and for days afterward, he refused to go anywhere near Xie Chunshan.

Next to them, the disciples had already begun debating the topic of "If Xie Chunshan were to go off the rails and challenge the Righteous Path, who could possibly take him on?" They tossed out several names—a solitary blade master from the windswept north, a refined Confucian scholar from Yunzhou in green robes, disciples from various mystic sects—but after much deliberation, one finally declared, "Truth be told, none of those stand much of a chance. The only one with a real shot would be that elder from the Shangling Sect—Daoist Cangshan."

The others nodded along, though one added, "But Daoist Cangshan is strange. I don’t even know how old he is. When my great-great-grandfather first entered the immortal sects, he was already the Shangling Sect’s leader. Now that I’ve joined, he’s still the sect leader. Can cultivators really live that long?"

Xie Shu curled his lips into a faint, mocking smile.

Such longevity—yet who knew where it truly came from? Over the centuries, how many brilliant disciples of the Shangling Sect had met tragic fates?

The young cultivators, of course, knew nothing of this and continued chattering away. "Living long is a good thing! The longer you live, the higher your cultivation. With him holding the stage, Xie Chunshan wouldn’t dare act recklessly."

"Exactly, exactly."

Then, as their food and wine arrived, their conversation took a sharp turn, delving into juicy sect rumors about whose brother-in-law had fallen for whose sister-in-law.

Xie Shu idly picked up a slice of cucumber. "This Daoist Cangshan—is he your master?"

Xiao Wu: "Technically. Every inner disciple of the Shangling Sect calls him master."

His tone was distant, his face unreadable.

Xie Shu: "Was he good to you?"

"..."

Xiao Wu buried himself in his food, refusing to answer.

Xie Shu let out a quiet sigh.

Given the crisscrossing whip marks on his back, Xie Shu already knew—how could he have been?

The game’s plot hadn’t revealed Daoist Cangshan’s fate, and even in Version 66, it was glossed over. Later, when Xiao Wu restructured the immortal and demonic factions, it was unclear whether this wily old fox had been dealt with. But judging by the Yunzhou cultivators’ words, Daoist Cangshan held considerable prestige in the Righteous Path—a revered elder, Xiao Wu’s own mentor. In this ancient setting, a master’s authority was absolute. If Xiao Wu truly turned against Daoist Cangshan, the fallout would be messy.

Xie Shu flicked open his fan, his gaze suddenly turning cold. His deep, glass-like pupils, half-hidden in the flickering light, grew shadowed and unreadable.