Ye Lang waited patiently by the gilded table, refilling his teacup time and again, yet the youth on the bed showed no sign of stirring.
No matter. He could wait.
A hunter must be patient, waiting for prey to present itself.
Lin Shijin had never felt so hungry in his life. He tried to reach for the plate of immortal herbs in front of Ye Lang, but his body refused to cooperate. His fingertips clutched the blanket; laziness overcame him, and he longed only to fall asleep.
Inside, three little voices waged a ceaseless battle… sleepy, thirsty, and hungry.
Eventually, the two voices advocating sleep overpowered the others. The triumphant little voice grumbled, “If I sleep, I won’t be sleepy, thirsty, or hungry. Isn’t that three problems solved at once?”
Lin Shijin considered it reasonable. He lay back, initially staring at the herbs, then closing and reopening his eyes, half his face sinking into the soft bedding, and slowly drifted off.
In his slumber, part of the blanket obscured his face; he held it between his legs. Right before sleep claimed him, he thought it would be perfect if what he was hugging were the immortal herbs.
Ye Lang drank three more cups of tea, finishing them all. The youth on the bed remained motionless, apparently struggling against something. Ye Lang had to admit, this wretched rabbit could endure far more than he expected.
Few could withstand a dose like that.
So he relaxed and waited a while longer. When the tea was gone, he peeled and ate a few grapes, even tasting a morsel of the immortal herb meant for the rabbit.
Unnoticed, half an hour slipped by, and a soft snore finally came from the bed.
“…”
Ye Lang tightened his grip on the cup. At first, he didn’t react; then, listening to the rhythmic snoring, disbelief flickered across his face.
He moved to the bedside.
The youth lay nestled in the soft blankets, sleeping peacefully. His slender, pale fingers clutched a corner of the duvet, his cheeks faintly flushed, his ears soft and drooping. He looked utterly content.
The stone hall was silent, broken only by the soft rhythm of his breathing.
Ye Lang: “…”
First incredulous, then his eyes darkened. He tugged at the rabbit’s ears. The youth’s eyelashes fluttered, he whimpered softly, slapped Ye Lang’s hand away, and turned, hugging the blanket.
“Get up. Who allowed you to sleep?”
The potent medicine he had spent half a day preparing… was it meant to help this wretched rabbit sleep? Ye Lang’s mood soured as he regarded the curled-up figure. Just as he was about to rouse him, a black mist on the mural flickered.
Alert, he grabbed the youth in his arms and swept his sword energy toward the wall.
The sword energy whooshed out, but the wall didn’t crack. Instead, silver light shimmered, and black mist spread across its surface.
Figures appeared within the mist. The demon immortals on the mural remained, but hidden guards emerged.
Leading them was Bai Yu, flanked by rows of demon guards with halberds gleaming coldly, brimming with demonic energy.
Ye Lang held the youth, sword energy swirling around him. He glanced at the surrounding guards and raised an eyebrow. “Did you let me in just to trap me?”
Bai Yu’s expression was stern. Bowing slightly, he said, “You may be demons, but you come from outside and cannot be trusted. Our priests calculated long ago that you are outsiders.”
“Out of respect for our shared demon lineage, we will not kill you. Until your identities are verified, you must endure some inconvenience.”
Polite words, but the halberds gleamed menacingly. One refusal, and Ye Lang would be pierced instantly.
Ye Lang chuckled softly. I underestimated them.
Even in a secret realm, this was Yixiu City of a thousand years past. The illusions here had their own reasoning. He could not simply bluff them.
Exposed, he had no choice but to leave.
His longsword rang out, splitting into countless sword energies. In the instant the sword swept past, he vanished with the youth in his arms.
In the underground demon city, innumerable tiny lights flickered. A colossal demon immortal statue held a bronze basin, flames leaping within. Its expression was ambiguous expression, neither smiling nor frowning, and was distorted by shadows.
Before Ye Lang could escape, his teleportation spell was blocked by an invisible barrier. As he stopped, the surrounding black mist froze in place.
The youth in his arms stirred slightly; his ears twitched, brushing against Ye Lang’s chest. Ye Lang could only hold the sword with one hand.
Striking the ground, his sword radiated immense pressure; the earth seemed to tremble. Ye Lang’s nonchalant smile belied the dark, violent aura surrounding him.
Perfect. Normally forbidden to kill, today he could unleash his wrath. After dealing with the demons, he would see to this wretched rabbit.
…
Lin Shijin slept for two full days. Awaking refreshed, he blinked and surveyed his surroundings.
Unfamiliar. No longer the stone hall. Distant bloodstains, a broken vermilion gate, a collapsed mat, and peeling statues greeted him.
He turned to meet a familiar, grim face.
Ye Lang’s eyes were dark and unblinking. “Finally decided to wake up?”
He had fought mercilessly, carrying this burdensome rabbit, who had slept through danger, only waking after escaping the dungeon. Perfect timing?
Lin Shijin recalled vaguely: the stone hall, slapping Ye Lang, being fed tea, then drifting off. That was all he remembered.
Now, he noticed Ye Lang’s injuries. His clothes were dishevelled and there was blood on his shoulder.
Timidly, he said, “You fed me tea. I felt sleepy after drinking it.”
Ye Lang’s expression darkened. “Shut up,” he growled, suppressing a violent aura. This was foolish. I shouldn’t have medicated this rabbit.
He had overestimated him. This rabbit knew nothing of desire; only eating, drinking, and sleeping. What standard had Feng Rugao used to select disciples? Perhaps he only chose the foolish, testing his own teaching? Not like Sheng Rufei, certainly.
Ye Lang felt his temples throb. Anger surged, the taste of blood filled his throat, but he controlled it.
Lin Shijin sensed Ye Lang’s anger. One sentence, yet everything changed. He moved away slightly, hugging his knees, observing the injured Ye Lang.
Should he ask about their location? He hesitated.
“Why are we here? Did we exit the underground demon city?”
Meeting Ye Lang’s gaze, his ears drooped slightly. Fear pricked him; Ye Lang was unusually irritable.
“Want to know?” Ye Lang’s expression was grim. “You don’t know why?”
Lin Shijin shook his head honestly. “No.”
“We were exposed in the underground demon city. Their priests calculated we were outsiders, laid an ambush, and locked us in the dungeon.”
Ye Lang moved closer, pinching his ear. “Carrying you these past days cost me many injuries.”
Lin Shijin’s ears drooped. He glimpsed Ye Lang’s shoulder wound. There were claw marks from a demonic beast, the blood had darkened, and the wound was ghastly.
Recalling Sheng Rufei’s similar injuries, Lin Shijin warned, “You should treat your wounds quickly. If the demonic poison spreads, you might suffer a qi deviation.”
Ye Lang thought: I am already a demonic cultivator. What does a qi deviation matter? But seeing concern in Lin Shijin’s eyes, he relaxed slightly.
“I’ll handle it later. Don’t worry.”
Lin Shijin freed his ear, moving into a corner to survey the desolate surroundings. The murals likely monitored them. Demon caution was normal.
He noticed Ye Lang’s worsening condition. The scene felt eerily familiar. It was like when Sheng Rufei was drugged by Xue Ning.
Ye Lang’s aura, though restrained, was heavy. Lin Shijin’s fur bristled; he did not want to repeat history.
“I’ll find antidote herbs. You stay here,” he said.
Rising, full of energy, he was ready to leap from the dilapidated temple. Common antidotes were easy to recognise.
No step had been taken before a crushing pressure pinned him. Ye Lang’s dark gaze fell on him, warning and forbidding movement.
“You carry demonic poison…” Lin Shijin met the gaze of the youth, eyes now dark red, injuries shadowed, expression enigmatic.
Lin Shijin froze, watching as Ye Lang stood, sword dripping blood. His entire aura changed, eyes fixed on Lin Shijin as if to shred him.
The demonic poison surged, full moon above, and the wretched rabbit looked so soft and enticing. Ye Lang’s destructive urge escalated, moving closer.
Lin Shijin gripped his sword. Tackled to the ground, just as Ye Lang lunged for his neck, a golden spell shot from his wrist, illuminating the area.
He covered his eyes with the rabbit ears. Expected pain never came. A moment later, chains clashed with a dull thud.
Cautiously peering, Lin Shijin saw a chain linking Ye Lang’s neck to his wrist.
Ye Lang, previously claiming he was fine, now completely uncontrolled, stared as if to devour him.
“Come here—” a hoarse, low voice.
Only a fool would oblige. Lin Shijin instinctively remained guarded, noticing an invisible barrier restraining Ye Lang.
Unable to break through, Ye Lang could only watch.
Lin Shijin’s heartbeat slowed. He lowered his fingertips.
As they touched down, chains clashed, an invisible force restrained Ye Lang, and with a “thud,” he knelt before him.
Lin Shijin: “…”
*
Author’s Note:
Lin Mianmian: Gained a slave*1
