Lin Shijin could hardly bear it. His fingertips caught at Sheng Rufei’s robe as he tried to push him away, but failed; a faintly sharp sensation filled his mouth.
A puppet could not compare to a living person. The scent of fallen plum blossoms still lingered before his nose. He had the distinct feeling Sheng Rufei was doing it on purpose.
He met Sheng Rufei’s gaze and called out softly, his face burning. He had never experienced anything like this before; the heat spread through him, even tinting his fingertips pink.
“Shixiong…” he could only manage those two words. His ears burned as he slowly wrapped his arms around Sheng Rufei, his body going weak. “It hurts.”
At his cry, Sheng Rufei let him go. The sensation lingered at the corner of his lips. He buried his face against Sheng Rufei’s shoulder, thinking that Sheng Rufei was controlling the puppet, using it to kiss him.
His face grew even hotter. After hesitating for a long moment, he asked, “Shixiong, why are there thorns?”
“I set it up casually,” Sheng Rufei replied. His fingertips brushed the corner of Lin Shijin’s lips as he lowered his gaze. His eyes darkened slightly, his voice roughened. “Where does it hurt?”
His fingers touched the youth’s cheek, which was flushed through. Lin Shijin had never reacted so strongly before. Even by his usual standards, today was excessive; the corners of his eyes were tinged red.
“My mouth hurts.” Lin Shijin still clutched his robe, unwilling to dwell on the subject. He simply assumed it had been done casually and remained nestled in Sheng Rufei’s arms.
“Take me there tomorrow. I want to see your injury.”
His fingers brushed through Sheng Rufei’s black hair. “Alright?”
Sheng Rufei did not answer for a while. Lin Shijin nudged him again before he finally replied with a quiet, “Alright.”
“By the way, Fuheng taught me yesterday how to distinguish spiritual energy. I’ve learned to tell the energy in grass and leaves apart. He said once I’ve mastered it, I can find you at any time.”
Fuheng: “?”
Sheng Rufei fell silent for a moment. “Fuheng?”
“Yes, that’s his name. Same as Immortal Lord Fuheng.” Lin Shijin was still curious about Sheng Rufei’s current body, touching his scalp, wondering how the hair had been attached. “He knows a lot of techniques.”
“Was it also he who taught you the Wusheng Sword Intent?” Sheng Rufei asked.
Lin Shijin’s gaze shifted slightly. It was indeed Fuheng who had taught him, but if he admitted it, Sheng Rufei would certainly be displeased.
For some reason, he did not want Sheng Rufei to dislike Fuheng.
“Not exactly,” Lin Shijin was poor at lying. Meeting Sheng Rufei’s slightly colder gaze, his eyes flickered away. “I asked him myself.”
Sheng Rufei lowered his lashes, casting a deep shadow. He said nothing, only reaching out to rub Lin Shijin’s head.
“He told you his name was Fuheng?”
“Yes. There must have been plenty of people named Fuheng a thousand years ago. Shixiong, you don’t think he has anything to do with Immortal Lord Fuheng, do you?”
“Unlikely. I have considered it. Fuheng fell a thousand years ago. If it really were him, why would he follow you around all day?”
Lin Shijin had never thought himself favoured by fate. His luck had always been ordinary. He had transmigrated into a minor cannon-fodder role, and his aptitude was unremarkable. He did not believe he possessed the kind of fortune that would connect him to Immortal Lord Fuheng.
After he said this, Sheng Rufei’s gaze rested on his face for a moment, then he said nothing.
“What else has he taught you?”
“Nothing else,” Lin Shijin replied after thinking. Usually, Fuheng only taught him when he asked, perhaps because he had refused too often at the start.
The Wusheng Sword Intent was powerful, but likely extremely difficult to master.
“Fuheng is very capable. He taught me to detect subtle changes in spiritual energy. I’ve learned it, but I still can’t perceive your spiritual fluctuations, Shixiong. Why is that?”
“You cannot master it in a single step,” Sheng Rufei said, brushing his earlobe lightly.
Lin Shijin understood that well enough. He acknowledged it, then asked, “Shixiong, will Cui Haoxue continue to pursue us?”
“Possibly. We will depart at dawn, once the poisonous fog disperses.”
Lin Shijin had no objections. With Sheng Rufei beside him, he felt entirely at ease. Holding onto his puppet shixiong, he gradually fell asleep, his fingers still gripping Sheng Rufei’s robe.
After he drifted off, Sheng Rufei removed his outer robe and covered him with it. His fingers traced over the youth’s brows and eyes for a long while before finally withdrawing.
They set off before dawn the next day. The dense fog had already cleared. Lin Shijin followed behind Sheng Rufei, who moved through the maze as though unaffected. Along the way, he did not encounter a single blade of grass bearing identical spiritual traces.
They had not retraced a single step.
The view gradually widened. After roughly an hour, they reached the depths of the shadowed forest. There were many caves, and faint traces of battle lingered. The bloodstains looked fresh.
Lin Shijin’s heart skipped when he saw them. He followed Sheng Rufei into one of the caves. The moment they stepped inside, the puppet vanished.
A heavy stench of blood greeted them. The stone walls were smeared with it, marked by long sword cuts. In the corner leaned a figure he knew all too well.
Sheng Rufei’s face was pale. He rested against the wall, his wounds already treated, though dried blood still stained his clothes.
“Shixiong?” Lin Shijin’s eyelids twitched violently. He hurried over. Up close, the damage was even clearer. The back of Sheng Rufei’s robes had been torn open, and the ground was littered with discarded bandages.
“You call this not serious?” He reached out, fingertips brushing the darkened blood, the sight almost painful. Sheng Rufei caught his hand, warmth passing between them.
“It is already fine,” Sheng Rufei said, withdrawing the silver threads from the puppet. He pushed himself upright against the wall, still pale. “We must leave the forest today. Many are searching for the Qiushui Sword. Their attention is now on you.”
Lin Shijin did not believe him. He lifted Sheng Rufei’s robe. The wound was long and deep, though indeed already closed. He slowly let the fabric fall back into place.
“Shixiong, your injury still looks severe. Should we remain here another day?”
“It will delay matters,” Sheng Rufei replied. “I am fine.”
His tone remained cool, though softer than before.
“There is no need to worry.”
Lin Shijin disagreed, but he knew arguing was futile. Something inside him tightened painfully, mixed with a flicker of anger.
“Then can you at least tell me who injured you?”
“I do not know.” Sheng Rufei met his gaze, seeing the worry there, and paused. “There were too many.”
“Not just demonic cultivators? Then who else? Scourge-Slayers?” Lin Shijin was only guessing. Even if he knew, there was little he could do. A faint frustration settled over him.
It was all because of him.
The thought darkened his mood. For the first time, something heavy and shadowed stirred within him. He kept it to himself.
A gentle touch rested atop his head. Meeting Sheng Rufei’s gaze again, those thoughts quietly dissipated. Seeing how pale he looked, Lin Shijin felt a pang of pain and murmured obediently, “I’ll listen to you, Shixiong.”
“Where do we go after leaving the maze?”
“Blood Tower.”
When they left, Sheng Rufei did not use the puppet. Both of them altered their appearances, disguising themselves as disciples of another sect. Sheng Rufei also concealed the scent of blood.
With him present, the maze posed little obstacle. They emerged before nightfall. The moment they stepped out, Lin Shijin clearly sensed the change.
The tangled spiritual currents were gone. The air felt clearer, easier to breathe.
He glanced at Sheng Rufei beside him. His face was still pale, though he stood straight. The wound on his back must have been painful.
Beyond the forest lay a sea of flowers, crimson blossoms stretching endlessly. When the wind stirred them, it almost seemed as though countless faces surfaced within.
The sky above was vast and dark. At the far horizon stood a towering black-red structure. Its spire merged faintly with the sky, reflecting a blood-stained glow.
“Shixiong, is that the Blood Tower?”
“It is. By now, everyone should be heading there.”
“It is said the Qiushui Sword will appear this year.”
Lin Shijin gazed into the distance. Fuheng had told him to retrieve that sword. A thought flickered through his mind, but before he could grasp it, his attention snapped back.
Sheng Rufei coughed twice.
His eyes widened immediately, as though looking at fragile porcelain. He placed a hand against Sheng Rufei’s back, patting lightly.
“Shixiong, you don’t need to push yourself. Do you also want the Qiushui Sword?”
Sheng Rufei coughed again. His face grew paler, his long lashes trembling slightly.
“That is not mine.”
Sheng Rufei lifted his lashes and looked at him. “In the end, it will fall into the hands of the one it truly belongs to.”
Lin Shijin paid no attention to what he said, because Sheng Rufei’s wound had split open again. He was startled, more anxious than the injured man himself, completely at a loss.
“Shixiong, your wound has opened again. Does it hurt? Are we still setting off for the Blood Tower today? Or should we wait a bit…”
Even now, Lin Shijin was trying to persuade him. His heart pounded as he reached out to touch the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, only to realise that the blood would not stop flowing.
He did not understand what was happening.
His fingertips hovered over the wound, all his attention fixed on Sheng Rufei’s injury. “Shixiong, why won’t the bleeding stop? You should come with me…”
He did not finish speaking, because Sheng Rufei collapsed.
“Shixiong?”
Lin Shijin had no time to react and instinctively caught him. When he touched Sheng Rufei’s cheek, he found it alarmingly hot.
He stood frozen, unsure what to do, when Fuheng’s voice sounded beside his ear.
“Take him away from here first.”
Lin Shijin’s fingertips trembled slightly. He touched Sheng Rufei’s cheek again and glanced behind him. Behind him stretched the endless Yin Forest, still shrouded in layers of black mist.
Supporting Sheng Rufei, he found him far heavier than expected and struggled with the weight. They were still a long way from the Blood Tower. At the edge of the sea of flowers stood several dilapidated houses hidden deep within. He carried Sheng Rufei towards them.
By the time he reached one, he was almost out of breath. Inside, thick cobwebs hung everywhere. He cast a spell to clear them away and settled Sheng Rufei down.
“Fuheng, why did my shixiong faint?”
Lin Fuheng had seen everything clearly. He glanced at the youth lying against the wall with his eyes closed. This youth had borne many burdens alone. Whether to speak of them or not should be his own choice.
“His wound was tainted with demonic qi. It was not fully cleansed, which caused the fever.”
Fuheng looked at the worried expression on the foolish youth’s face and reached out to ruffle his head in reassurance, concealing the emotions in his eyes.
At this moment, he ought to tell the youth that no one could remain by his side forever.
Not even the shixiong he cherished most.
