Lin Shijin stared for a long moment, stunned. He looked at Ye Lang kneeling before him, then at the chain around his wrist, and tentatively reached out. He could touch it.
He tugged the chain slightly, and Ye Lang was forced forward, moving entirely on his knees, his steps unsteady.
Lin Shijin’s eyes widened at the chain. He hadn’t expected this. With just a pull, Ye Lang’s wound reopened, fresh blood dripping to the ground.
“You…” Lin Shijin faltered. Then he remembered the golden seal Sheng Rufei had placed on his wrist when he left. Could it have been Sheng Rufei who did this?
The thought flickered through his mind, then he pushed it aside. He looked at Ye Lang again and tugged the chain once more. Ye Lang bent lower still, almost bowing flat to the ground.
Lin Shijin wasn’t used to anyone kneeling before him. He released the chain. “Get up first.”
As soon as he loosened his grip, it was as if invisible shackles vanished. Ye Lang still wore the chain around his neck, but now he could rise with his fingertips supporting him. The dark red in his eyes faded, replaced by a thick, almost overwhelming gloom.
“What… what have you done to me?”
“I haven’t even asked what you were trying to do to me,” Lin Shijin replied, wrist hanging loosely. The chain was invisible and weightless. He glanced at it. “This spell is for keeping villains at bay.”
A vague understanding came to him. The golden seal on his wrist had reappeared, forming a spell bracelet, much like the one Sheng Rufei had given him.
He’d been leaving, and Sheng Rufei, worried about his low cultivation, had placed a golden seal spell bracelet on him. If anyone tried to harm him, the curse would activate.
“My shi…” He hesitated, then corrected himself, “…my gege gave it to me. If anyone tries to kill me, the curse activates.” Lin Shijin was guessing; he had been too terrified to think clearly before.
Now, belatedly, he remembered Sheng Rufei’s face and felt a faint surge of emotion. His fingertips twitched unconsciously.
A loud bang rang through the air. Ye Lang, who had just risen, was forced to kneel again, his body pressed to the ground at Lin Shijin’s feet, fully in the posture of a slave.
Ye Lang’s eyes glinted with darkness, knuckles whitening. Now he knew exactly what this was: a cursed bracelet, a cursed chain that controlled the bound person’s movements according to the master’s will. It was one of the Three Realms’ forbidden slave contracts.
These contracts were rarely easy to trigger. This one had clearly been modified, activating only when the master faced danger. The chain attached itself to the strong, turning the bound into a slave. Slaves could only obey, never resist, and if the master died, the slave would die too.
The drawback: the curse couldn’t last long… just a few days, or at most a month. Once matured, it would release itself.
Ye Lang knelt again, and Lin Shijin felt a little embarrassed. He had only moved his fingers by accident. He hadn’t yet mastered this curse.
He didn’t know how to retract it, but he certainly couldn’t now or Ye Lang would tear him to pieces.
Before he could react, Ye Lang pushed himself up again, staring at him, voice low and ambiguous.
“Sheng Rufei did this?”
Ye Lang’s eyes flickered dark red, sometimes radiating violence, sometimes calm, his aura chaotic. He was clearly still struggling to suppress the demonic poison.
“Let’s go find herbs to cure the poison,” Lin Shijin said, avoiding the topic. He’d called him ‘gege’, and he had many nominal shixiongs. Any of them could be a good gege; there was no need to mention Sheng Rufei’s name.
If he did, it might bring trouble to Sheng Rufei.
“You stay here. I’ll get the herbs.”
Lin Shijin took a few steps. The chains on his wrists vanished. Ye Lang couldn’t follow; he was still trapped by an invisible barrier.
Lin Shijin left the dilapidated temple alone. Night had nearly fallen. He gripped his sword tightly, glancing back at the temple. Ye Lang’s barrier made the area outside seem flat; only past it could one see the temple itself.
The herbs to cure demonic poison grew at the swamp’s edge, often guarded by demon beasts. The plants were green, roots deep purple, faintly glowing at night. This made a nocturnal hunt preferable.
Not far from the temple stretched a dark forest, eerily silent except for the sound of his black boots on the grass.
Lin Shijin kept alert, eyes scanning every direction. Fireflies flickered like tiny stars, while the forest depths remained pitch-black.
At the forest’s edge, he saw the swamp. And resting beside it, a six-eyed demon beast.
The beast had six eyes, human-like, considered low-tier. Among demon beasts, the stranger their appearance, the weaker they were; the more human-like, the stronger. The top-tier tenth-rank demons resembled humans closely. But humans and demon beasts remained fundamentally different.
Lin Shijin hid behind a tree. Around the six-eyed beast, glowing herbs lined the swamp edge, shimmering like scattered starlight.
He gripped his longsword, glancing at his palm. Lately, he had trained daily with Sheng Rufei in swordsmanship, but progress was minimal. He lacked natural talent; what others achieved with ease took him ten times the effort.
This bred frustration. His practice was dutiful and without joy, unlike Sheng Rufei, who could spend hours in the Sword Pavilion.
Glancing again at the beast, guarding the herbs, he understood he would have to defeat it to obtain them.
Moonlight shone coldly. Since transmigrating, Lin Shijin hadn’t killed a single ant. His heart raced as he faced the creature. Could he do it? If he failed, Feng Rugao was still searching for ways to improve his innate constitution. He didn’t want Feng Rugao to intervene. But lacking self-defense, how could he refuse?
His inner doubts wrestled, one cold voice telling the other: Go, or forget refining your bones.
A jolt ran through him. He emerged from behind the tree, sword raised at the six-eyed demon beast.
The beast, previously asleep, opened its six eyes with a gust of cold wind. One pupil slid slowly downwards, each eye glowing faintly red, all staring at the boy.
Its thick, spiked hide resembled armour, yet the weak spot was obvious: downy fur at the neck, beneath which lay soft leather. One thrust there would fell it instantly.
The demon growled lowly, damp air hitting Lin Shijin. He staggered back, nose assaulted by a foul stench.
Before he could react, the beast lunged, claws gripping his sword, fangs bared, red tongue lolling with what looked like a human face, mangled and bloody.
Fear shot to his throat. Instinctively, he blocked with his sword and dodged sideways. The beast’s claws scratched his face, fiery pain searing, and he almost cried out as it slammed him to the ground.
The beast was close, closer than he expected. Its snarling, the rasping noise like dry twigs on bark, pierced his ears.
Lin Shijin’s face was pale, fingers trembling. Six red eyes glared simultaneously; drool dripped near his feet. Beneath the neck, the soft leather waited for a single strike.
Just one thrust…
Yet a nameless fear froze him. His mind blurred, and he seemed to see streams of blood flowing before his eyes, engulfed in a viscous, icy red nightmare.
He couldn’t move. Darkness and blood consumed him. Cold sweat broke out. Was he going to die?
He knew what he should do, but lacked the courage. Fingertips whitening, a thick, black dread filled him.
As the demon bared its fangs, he closed his eyes. The rustle of trees filled his ears. Time seemed frozen.
No pain came. He felt detached, as if alone in the boundless world. After a long while, he slowly opened his eyes, sensing a gentle touch on his eyelids… as if an illusion.
Opening his eyes fully, he saw the six-eyed demon beast had collapsed, dissolving into black mist.
Lin Shijin stared, confirming it wasn’t a trick. His hands were clean; the sword bore no blood.
Moonlight fell on the swamp. Hesitation lasted only a moment. He saw the herbs and, eyes shining, hastened to collect them.
He hadn’t slain the beast, and had even been injured. Chewing two herbs along the way, the scratches became more susceptible to the poison.
Pondering what had occurred, he accepted it: a fortunate turn. After all, his little slave awaited him back at the temple.
Returning with the herbs, he found Ye Lang still trapped in the corner by the barrier. Hearing his footsteps, Ye Lang opened his eyes, dark and menacing, as if ready to tear him apart.
“I went to get herbs for you, and you’re still staring?” Lin Shijin muttered, mumbled “ungrateful wretch,” deftly turning the tables just like Xue Ning.
Had Sheng Rufei not placed the golden curse on his wrist, he’d likely be dead.
Lin Shijin placed the herbs on the ground, pushing them closer. As they neared, chains appeared, forcing Ye Lang to kneel once more.
The chains clinked crisply. Ye Lang’s fingertips braced the ground as he bowed to the youth. Whoever had modified this curse had added extra layers. Any hint of resistance would force him to kneel like a dog until forgiven.
Ye Lang’s gaze was unfathomable. He observed the cautious youth, restraining his violent urges, clearly sensing the intentions behind the boy.
The youth wanted to play, so he was indulged. Anyone with ill intent would be reduced to a kneeling dog.
Truly, which gege possessed such power…?
*
Author’s Note:
Lin Mianmian: My gege gave it to me!
Sheng Rufei: Hmm?
