Lin Shijin had no idea what Jun Yewu was thinking. Hugging his pillow, he lay wrapped in his bedding. The floor beneath was still cold through the planks, but not enough to leave him shivering.
He wasn’t truly planning to sleep. Curled beneath the covers, he threaded a wisp of spiritual energy into the aperture of the shackle. A soft click sounded from beneath the quilt, and the chain came undone with ease.
Lin Shijin waited quietly.
He noticed that Jun Yewu kept glancing in his direction from time to time. What? Was he afraid he’d run off again?
He’d already had a nap earlier and wasn’t sleepy in the least. The hall lamps had been extinguished. Jun Yewu lay on the bed draped in an outer robe; whenever the wind stirred, he broke into another bout of coughing. It sounded miserable even to listen to.
Lin Shijin stole a look. He sat quietly in the corner. After a while, the coughing was accompanied by a broken voice from the bed.
“…Water…”
The sound echoed through the hall. There was no one else present.
Lin Shijin didn’t move at first. Then Jun Yewu’s gaze settled on him across the empty space, and he reluctantly got up, went over, and poured him a cup of tea.
Jun Yewu’s cold, pale fingertips were smeared with blood; there was a faint trace at the corner of his lips as well. Lin Shijin set the teacup down beside him.
Jun Yewu’s eyes lingered on him. Lin Shijin felt a little uneasy under the scrutiny and, after hesitating, unwillingly fished a handkerchief out of his sleeve.
Jun Yewu took it. The cloth carried a faintly sweet scent, like pastries. They were likely stored together out of habit. A small lamb was embroidered on one corner in pale thread.
He lifted his eyes.
The youth had handed it over with obvious reluctance, glancing sidelong at him, his gaze hovering briefly at Jun Yewu’s jaw.
Caught, Lin Shijin quickly looked away and stood there with his hands tucked into his sleeves.
“Can I go back now?” he asked quietly.
Jun Yewu was usually adept at disguising his emotions. Lately, however, he seemed less inclined to put on that familiar façade before the youth.
“No,” Jun Yewu said flatly, coughing twice. “Go and move your bedding over here. Sleep here.”
Lin Shijin thought he’d misheard. It took him a moment to react. He stayed where he was and said slowly, “I snore. I’ll disturb you.”
He was about to add something else, but the moment he met Jun Yewu’s icy gaze, he shut his mouth and obediently went to fetch his bedding.
“So troublesome…” he muttered under his breath.
He dragged his bedding over and laid it out on the floor beside Jun Yewu’s bed, arranging it himself.
From this spot, Jun Yewu would be able to watch him constantly. The thought made him uneasy. How was he supposed to sleep like this?
…Though, on second thought, hadn’t he fallen asleep earlier without any trouble at all?
He sat down against the wall, glancing at the red thread around his wrist and feeling slightly reassured. Remembering something, he asked tentatively, “When I went out, I saw the Scourge-Slayers. You didn’t go to meet them?”
Jun Yewu opened his eyes and met the youth’s clear gaze. A faint, inscrutable smile touched his lips. “Why do you concern yourself with so much? Even with the Scourge-Slayers present, they wouldn’t be able to save you. Or your shixiong.”
“They might discover you,” Lin Shijin said calmly. Arguing with Jun Yewu seriously would have exhausted him long ago. “Then you’d be caught.”
Better to leave Jinyue Temple now. What good was some sacred artefact compared to staying alive?
Jun Yewu shot him a look and said nothing more. Lin Shijin couldn’t draw anything further out of him, but he suspected that with Cui Haoxue’s abilities, the abnormalities in the temple wouldn’t remain hidden for long.
“There’s one more day,” Jun Yewu said suddenly. “If it isn’t found within a day, this place can’t be stayed in any longer.”
Lin Shijin was startled. He hadn’t expected Jun Yewu to tell him this. It seemed he knew he couldn’t keep the truth from the Scourge-Slayers for much longer.
“You’ve killed so many monks here,” Lin Shijin said softly. “The immortal sects won’t let you off.”
Especially Bu Wen. He was virtually peerless in the world. If the major sects learned of this, they would surely unite to hunt Jun Yewu down.
At some point, Lin Shijin drifted off again.
He woke to voices.
“Saint Lord. Yesterday, we searched through the Jinyue Temple archives. A thousand years ago, Bu Wen brought back a sacred object…”
A guard was reporting. Jun Yewu coughed twice, his expression tightening. “Is its location recorded?”
The guard hesitated, not daring to answer directly. He stepped forward and presented the text, head bowed.
The book was ancient, preserved through long-term infusion of spiritual energy. The script was blurred, barely legible.
“Man has past lives, present lives, and future lives. The origin of this sacred object cannot be spoken of, only its destination. Jinyue Temple shall guard it. After a thousand years, if calamity descends across three thousand lifetimes, it shall be used to save the world.”
“Everything visible to the naked eye is the sacred object.”
Jun Yewu frowned at the final line. These monks were always so maddeningly cryptic. They’d recorded a sacred artefact without ever writing where it was, only saying it could be seen.
There were countless things one could see. The halls of Jinyue Temple, every blade of grass and tree, the changing seasons of Hanhui Mountain. What wasn’t visible?
Lin Shijin was already awake. Having overheard the exchange, he eyed the book in Jun Yewu’s hand with open curiosity, his expression plainly asking Can I look too?
He didn’t say it aloud.
Jun Yewu glanced at him, then tossed the book onto the low table and turned away to continue issuing orders.
The text lay right in front of Lin Shijin. He edged closer and skimmed it, though much of it still made little sense.
The world-saving sacred object was indeed in Jinyue Temple, but with no clue as to where. Even with the records, it felt useless.
And Jun Yewu’s goal was hardly salvation. If anything, it was likely destruction. Or simply his own survival.
“Search the remaining temple records,” Jun Yewu ordered. “Look for places where spiritual energy converges, and catalogue all formations within the grounds.”
The guard replied, “Your Highness, the Scourge-Slayers… they investigated several halls last night. They may already have noticed something amiss.”
“No matter,” Jun Yewu said, coughing softly. “When they arrive, stop sending the monks’ bodies to the immortal sects. Guard Bu Wen’s corpse well. Let them see it only when we are ready to leave.”
“Yes.”
The guard dissolved into black mist and vanished.
Lin Shijin continued flipping through the book in secret. It wasn’t limited to temple history. There were all sorts of miscellaneous records, some written, some illustrated.
He flipped quickly, then froze.
His fingers paused. He flipped back.
The lines were faded and old, but the image was unmistakable.
This was—
Wasn’t this the book about the monk and the little fox he’d found in the Fuguang Library?!
Why was it in the Jinyue Temple archives?
The fox in the illustration was still beautiful. The beginning was exactly the same: the fox, tail severed and barely alive, meeting the monk. And the two of them staying together.
He hadn’t seen the rest. Sheng Rufei had confiscated the book and forbidden him to read further.
Just as Lin Shijin was about to turn the page, the book was snatched away.
Jun Yewu took it and glanced at the illustration.
“Hey, give it back!”
Lin Shijin had been thinking about this story for months. The plot gnawed at him. Seeing it appear again here, in Jinyue Temple, meant it couldn’t be simple… especially when it was so closely tied to the soul-bond on his own body.
He was so close. So close.
He glared at Jun Yewu, but the moment he met the man’s eyes, his bravado wilted. He swallowed his urge to grab it back and lowered his voice. “I just want to look. I’ll return it in a moment.”
Besides, it wasn’t even Jun Yewu’s book. It belonged to Jinyue Temple, yet he took it as though by right.
As Lin Shijin fidgeted, the loosened chain clinked softly. Jun Yewu ignored him and began turning the pages, his gaze lingering.
Thinking of what came later, Lin Shijin added hastily, “It’s really nothing worth seeing. It’s… inappropriate.”
Jun Yewu shot him a glance sharp enough to silence him immediately.
The illustrations continued. What had begun like a mediocre romantic tale quickly devolved. Monks and male fox spirits in explicit positions, vulgar and lurid… nothing like proper temple records.
One image showed the fox chained up, mouth gagged, body marred with whip marks. He looked barely alive—yet his eyes were filled with unquestioning trust toward the monk.
Jun Yewu glanced at the shackled youth beside him, who was peeking over nervously.
His gaze lingered. Then his lips curved slightly.
His voice was unreadable.
“…You like this sort of thing?”
