“Why did you imitate him, Shixiong?” Lin Shijin’s cheeks flushed; his expression was slightly embarrassed, with a hint of displeasure.
Sheng Rufei drew closer, his eyes unreadable, and asked, “Have you met him before?”
“Never,” Lin Shijin turned to glance behind them. The man hadn’t followed; he still stood where he was, and Lin Shijin could faintly feel his gaze lingering in their direction.
Sheng Rufei’s lips tugged faintly. “Your first time meeting him, and yet you’ve already acquired a second fiancé.”
There was something delicate in those words; Lin Shijin sensed a wisp of jealousy. It seemed Sheng Rufei held a strong hostility towards Cui Haoxue.
Lin Shijin tugged lightly at Sheng Rufei’s sleeve, carefully watching his expression, fearful that Sheng Rufei was angry… though he already appeared to be so.
“This is my first time meeting him. He said he’d divined some marriage fate. Perhaps he simply got it wrong.”
Lin Shijin: “I only have a marriage contract with Shixiong. I’ve never had any involvement with anyone else.”
Even as he thought so, he couldn’t understand why Sheng Rufei was so furious. He had never reacted this way towards Jun Yewu or Xue Ning.
By identity, Jun Yewu and Xue Ning were villains, whereas that man just now was a scourge-slayer.
Scourge-Slayer Envoy… Scourge-Slayer Envoy… Lin Shijin suddenly remembered something. In the original novel, the “stock-investor gong” Cui Haoxue was also a deputy slayer, and the original text insisted that Sheng Rufei was betrothed to him.
Lin Shijin’s expression turned slightly dazed. Surely not… though very likely… almost certainly… That man earlier might well have been Cui Haoxue.
His thoughts tangled into a knot. He forced himself to let them go; he was unwilling to ponder any further. The original plot had already bolted like a runaway horse, collapsing beyond repair.
Sheng Rufei said nothing. Lin Shijin brushed against his fingertips, softly curling his own around them. “Shixiong, aren’t we heading to Jinyue Temple? Shouldn’t we go now?”
“Don’t be angry… It truly was my first time meeting him; I’ve never had any entanglement with him.” Lin Shijin had once said Sheng Rufei couldn’t coax people, and now, trying to coax Sheng Rufei himself, he felt a little stiff and nervous.
Whether that man was Cui Haoxue or not, Lin Shijin resolved to stay far away from him in future… otherwise Sheng Rufei would be upset.
He quietly memorised this, brushing against Sheng Rufei’s fingertips again with a hint of placation.
“Shixiong, please talk to me. Don’t stay silent.”
The youth’s fingers moved faintly in his hold. His lips thinned, and he murmured, “Just don’t let it happen again.”
“Don’t get involved with them.”
“I understand,” Lin Shijin replied easily, “I won’t involve myself with them. Having one fiancé… Shixiong, is more than enough.”
Sheng Rufei was already enough; a few more and he truly wouldn’t be able to cope.
The youth shot him a sideways look, offering no response to his honeyed words.
Jinyue Temple was said to be within the city, yet seemed somehow apart from it. The city was named Jinhuan; Jinyue Temple sat upon Hanhuan Mountain, where the seasons were reversed. Snow at the lowest tier, above it golden autumn, then blazing summer, and at the peak, spring all year round.
The higher the ascent, the smaller each seasonal band became. From afar, the white inverted snow blanketed nearly a third of the mountain. Above it lay autumn and summer hues, and at the summit, a faint spring glow shimmered with threads of gold. That was where Jinyue Temple stood.
Ascending was no simple feat. Though Jinyue Temple was famed alongside the four great sects, its gates were often empty; the treacherous terrain was the first great obstacle.
At the foot of the snowy mountain were stalls selling winter garments. Lin Shijin followed Sheng Rufei into one. Sheng Rufei picked out a red fox-fur cloak for him, embroidered with gold thread. Lin Shijin liked it immediately.
He tried it on. His dark hair spilled down his sides, and the gold-threaded brocade flowers blazed brilliantly. Lin Shijin examined himself in the mirror, then stepped up to Sheng Rufei.
“Shixiong, how is it?”
The youth was always spirited; the red cloak made his brows and eyes even more striking, his features delicate and captivating. His gaze faintly reflected Sheng Rufei, and a slight smile touched his lips.
Against his radiance, even the embroidered brocade lost three parts of its splendour.
Sheng Rufei brushed his hair aside and straightened his clothes once more. “It looks good.”
The cloak was far from cheap, especially sold here at the foot of Hanhuan Mountain. When they asked for the price, even Lin Shijin found it expensive. He watched Sheng Rufei empty out all his silver; it looked as though his savings were completely spent.
Lin Shijin loved it and could easily afford it himself. But that didn’t stop him wanting Shixiong to buy it for him.
Tugging at Sheng Rufei’s sleeve, he waited until they had stepped outside before whispering, “Shixiong, have you run out of money?”
He felt a twinge of worry; Sheng Rufei was so poor. Supporting him must be terribly difficult.
Sheng Rufei met his lively eyes and gave a quiet hum. He had tried his best to let the youth stay in comfort, dress well, eat the best snacks on their journey; the silver had drained quickly.
“I still have plenty,” Lin Shijin admitted, a little guilty. What he had spent was all Feng Rugao’s money; before he left, Feng Rugao had stuffed him with spirit stones, far more than he could spend.
If Sheng Rufei knew they came from Feng Rugao, he would refuse them outright.
“Shixiong, you may use mine.” Lin Shijin whispered conspiratorially, harbouring the private intention of giving Sheng Rufei all his remaining spirit stones.
Sheng Rufei’s voice remained cool. “No need.”
“Once we head to other cities, demon bones can be exchanged for silver.”
Lin Shijin: “All right.”
They ascended the mountain that same day. Jinyue Temple lay at the summit; it took an entire day through the snow just to reach the autumn zone. Sword-flight was forbidden within the Three Thousand Worlds’ cities. If they could fly, they might have reached it in half a day.
Lin Shijin could barely endure after half a day’s walk, and Sheng Rufei had to pull him along. The cold wind sliced across his face like knives, stinging sharply. His breath was dry and freezing; he felt his nose was about to solidify.
Eventually, he couldn’t walk at all, and Sheng Rufei carried him up the last stretch.
He lay against Sheng Rufei’s back; the youth was slender yet steady-footed, bearing his weight without so much as a laboured breath. His black boots crunched through the snow as he climbed.
Lin Shijin shivered violently, curling himself into a ball. He clung to Sheng Rufei, his nose running from the cold. Unwilling to wipe it, he rubbed it against Sheng Rufei’s shoulder.
He knew Sheng Rufei wouldn’t like it, so he apologised in a slow, meek voice. “Shixiong… it’s so cold… my nose is running.”
“I didn’t rub much, just a tiny bit.”
Sheng Rufei’s footsteps faltered ever so slightly. “…”
“When will we get there?” Lin Shijin lay on his back, enjoying the vantage; from here he could see Sheng Rufei’s long neck, and if he reached forward, he could even touch the slight protrusion of his Adam’s apple.
Sheng Rufei: “In a bit.”
“How long is ‘a bit’? Are you tired, Shixiong?” Now unoccupied, Lin Shijin began chattering. “Shixiong, might there be demonic beasts here? I saw footprints earlier, like animals’. Might we run into one…? You said demon bones can be exchanged for silver. Does that mean all of them, or only certain beasts…? Which beasts are those?”
“Will we arrive before dark? What if we don’t? If we can’t, do we have to sleep in the snow? It’s so cold here.”
Speaking, he instinctively hugged Sheng Rufei more tightly, whispering into his ear, “If we sleep in the snow… I’m sleeping in Shixiong’s arms.”
Sheng Rufei: “…”
After all that, the wooden block still didn’t answer. Lin Shijin poked him. “Shixiong, why aren’t you talking to me?”
Sheng Rufei was trying to decide which question to answer first; clearly, the final one was the most pressing. He paused, then said, “I’m not sure which to answer first.”
Only a wooden block would worry about that. Lin Shijin nearly laughed. He hugged him tightly in delight, even giving a slight nuzzle. “Then answer them one by one. Shixiong, are you an idiot?”
The sudden cling made Sheng Rufei stagger slightly; his voice stiffened. “Don’t move.”
Lin Shijin obeyed immediately. They continued until dusk, star-light glittering across the snow. Lin Shijin fell asleep on Sheng Rufei’s back.
Carried the whole way, he woke only when Sheng Rufei set him down. They had reached the autumn region; behind them, in the distance, stretched a dividing line of crimson and silver-white.
They were surrounded by seemingly endless sycamore leaves. They would have to rest here for the night. Following behind Sheng Rufei, Lin Shijin soon sensed something amiss.
In the winter region, constant snowfall had concealed everything. Any traces would have been buried. Here, though, it was starkly visible: thick, still-wet blood spattered the ground, smeared across withered grass and splashed across tree trunks.
Lin Shijin: “Shixiong, what’s happened?”
The bloodstains looked very fresh. They were likely formed within the last two days, three at most.
The youth ahead said nothing. Instead, he caught Lin Shijin’s wrist, his steps pressing into the withered grass with the brittle crack of snapping twigs.
All at once, the air seemed to fall still. Out of the corner of his eye, Lin Shijin caught a flash of something. It was a shard of deep, almost harsh crimson.
It was a roughly human-shaped thing, some unknown creature that resembled a person yet clearly was not. Its skin had a sickly bluish cast, and its body twisted at angles no human could ever achieve.
Its pupils were pitch-black hollows, no trace of white at all. They were only bulging, tar-dark masses of flesh that looked ready to drop out. Fangs jutted from between purplish lips, and its fingertips were long, thin, and viciously sharp, far beyond anything a human could grow. Blood clung to those talons, dripping down in slow, thick drops.
Lin Shijin stared, momentarily stunned. Before he could react, Sheng Rufei shoved him aside. An invisible barrier sprang up around him, and a streak of snow-white sword light flashed before his eyes.
With a thunderous crack, a wave of pressure crashed down. Lin Shijin felt the surrounding trees shiver. The force swelled and crashed outward, and the snow-white sword light fell blazing, cleaving apart everything in its wake.
Lin Shijin gaped. It had only been a few months. When had Sheng Rufei become this powerful? He had clearly seen the sword leave afterimages. To produce sword shadows meant cultivation at least above the sixth realm.
Their path of cultivation was divided into nine heavenly realms. The Ninth Heavenly Realm was all but unheard of. In the present age, only Feng Rugao and Jun Yewu, who had just brushed against its threshold, had reached that height.
Even within the same realm, a hair’s breadth of difference could span a thousand miles in power. In ages past, those who had broken through to the Ninth Heavenly Realm included Fuheng and Shouque… perhaps others, though those were the only names he knew.
Among their generation of disciples, most were between the second and fifth realms. Anyone who reached the fifth was already considered a genius among prodigies. Yet Sheng Rufei had somehow stepped into the sixth.
Lin Shijin thought of his own lowly second realm and fell silent, “…”
*
Inside Jinyue Temple.
As the final monk collapsed, blood spurted from his neck. Even after his heartbeat faded, he did not topple, remaining kneeling upon his prayer mat, head bowed, features filled with compassion and quiet regret.
“Saint Lord, he wasn’t found anywhere within the temple.”
A wisp of black mist flickered into view. Jun Yewu’s face was slightly pale, the demonic patterns on his snow-white robes glowing faintly. His long, slender brows lifted a little, and he spoke in a gentle tone, “The priest’s calculations cannot be wrong. Search again. Leave no corner unchecked.”
“Drag the corpses away and keep them preserved. They’re to be delivered to the various immortal sects later.”
A hint of amusement warmed his voice. “Feng Rugao came by not long ago. Place the blame squarely on him.”
The black mist acknowledged him with a low “Yes,” but did not depart at once. “There’s one more matter. The barrier at the foot of the mountain shifted. Someone is heading this way.”
Before Jun Yewu could reply, a water-mirror shimmered into existence before him, revealing the silhouettes of two youths.
He followed the image with his gaze. Well, wasn’t that the pair of beauties he had been thinking about? Seeing them again, his eyes skimmed over the aloof beauty in front and settled on the lively youth trailing behind.
*
Author’s Note:
Jun Yewu: At last, my turn to appear.
