Chapter Sixteen

For fear of injuring the two disciples, Lian Ci had no choice but to withdraw his palm strike and pull back his attack, catching both of them.

Meanwhile, Wen Yuan's figure flickered like a specter. He seized the opening and bolted out of the front hall, and by the direction he was fleeing — straight toward Misty Pine Residence.

The two injured disciples needed someone to tend to them. Cen Yan's toes touched the ground and he launched himself like a swallow in pursuit, calling back over his shoulder: "Sect Master, please remain in the front hall to watch over them — I'll go after the demon clan spy!"

Unwilling to let Cen Yan give chase alone, Xu Ziyang rushed right after him.

Inside Misty Pine Residence.

Tree shadows crossed and shifted, casting patterns through the covered walkways, quiet and secluded as though it were a different world entirely.

Wen Yuan zigged and zagged, fleeing all the way to outside Misty Pine Residence. His spiritual sense caught the sound of someone giving chase close behind him. He looked hurriedly left and right, then plunged into Misty Pine Residence.

Misty Pine Residence was large, and Wen Yuan darted around in it like a headless fly. Just as he was frantically thinking of how to get out, a tall, slender figure suddenly came into view ahead of him.

A young man in a curved-water purple brocade gauze robe, standing poised beneath the dark corridor. His soft black hair spread like mist and clouds across his shoulders and back, a few wisps drifting down over his forehead, layered with the long, dense, finely curved lashes.

Making the blue-grey mask on his face — fangs bared, normally terrifying and ghoulish — radiate instead a beauty so captivating it seized the soul.

One look, and it became impossible to hold oneself together.

Wen Yuan's breath caught. His heart gave a violent lurch, and for a split second even his rational thought disconnected — he nearly forgot what he was supposed to be doing.

He came back to himself. Wen Yuan bared his teeth in a grin soaked in blood and carnage, and launched himself at the person beneath the corridor!

At the Golden Core stage, one could freely conceal one's aura. Wen Yuan came up silently behind Chu Rong, and Chu Rong had no awareness of him at all.

Not until a solid body pressed hard against his back, and a bony hand, five fingers curling into a claw, reached around from behind to grip his slender, pale throat.

Chu Rong turned his head, and seeing the face of the intruder clearly, his sharp, alluring eyes contracted sharply. The color drained from his face beneath the mask in an instant.

According to the plot of the original text, at this hour the demon clan spy should still be in the front hall, shouldn't he? Why had he come running to Misty Pine Residence?

Was something off about the plot somewhere?

Chu Rong's brow furrowed slightly. His long lashes lowered, casting a curved shadow on the mask. His heart was in an uproar, but not a trace of it showed on his face.

Chu Rong looked sideways at Wen Yuan, his eyes gleaming like scattered flecks of gold, as though they could sear straight into one's soul. He asked the obvious question: "Who are you?"

Filtered through the mask, his voice came out distorted and hoarse — yet it never grated on the ears.

The scent of incense from inside Misty Pine Residence still clung to Chu Rong's collar, mingled together with his own orchid fragrance, and surged in its entirety into Wen Yuan's lungs in one wave.

Wen Yuan's throat moved in a swallow. He couldn't resist pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

He instinctively lowered his head, leaning close to the side of Chu Rong's neck, and breathed in with deep, hungry greed: "You don't know me, but I know you."

Cen Yan's name resounded everywhere, inside and outside the sect. Chu Rong was Cen Yan's fiancé, and the two of them were often mentioned together.

Cen Yan had always treated Chu Rong decently enough, and though the business at the front hall a few days ago had caused a stir, Chu Rong had proven himself innocent and the matter had been put to rest.

"Your fiancé is after me. For now, I'm afraid you'll have to bear the inconvenience of being a hostage, until the day the Guardian Formation opens." The man's voice was hoarse and deep, his throat producing an involuntary croaking sound with it — abrasive and unpleasant to hear. The blood-hungry grin at the corner of his mouth made one's scalp prickle.

The fragrance drifting incessantly to his nose was making his mind swim.

The wound on Chu Rong's neck had healed. In its place was a long, slender mark, very faint in color, tinged with a pale pink — against skin as white as snow, it drew the eye irresistibly.

Wen Yuan stared at that faint scar, his gaze drifting uncontrollably, his throat parched as though it would burst into flame. He panted in short, rapid breaths, and his lips drew closer involuntarily.

At the very moment he was about to reach Chu Rong's neck, the figure in front of him tilted his head almost imperceptibly to one side, just barely dodging — and from behind the ghoulish mask came a faint, quiet sound of derision.

Muffled by the mask, the voice came out distorted and hoarse, yet the curving upward of the tail made it sound like a hook, exquisitely good at catching people.

Chu Rong's lashes lifted slightly, black hair cascading down: "Then you've made a miscalculation."

Cen Yan had never believed him innocent from start to finish. Right now, in Cen Yan's eyes, he was worth nothing beyond a small, tenuous debt of saving his life. Taking him hostage to threaten Cen Yan would be far less effective than grabbing some random outer-gate disciple at random.

Wha...?

Wen Yuan's expression blanked, and before he could ask what that meant, two figures leapt into Misty Pine Residence from outside. Cen Yan's cool, sharp eyes swept through the residence and locked onto his position in an instant: "The spy is over there!"

Wen Yuan's expression shifted. No time for more questions. The roiling impulses in his chest vanished without a trace. He tightened the fingers gripping Chu Rong's throat and hauled him forward as a shield.

A choking sensation immediately rose from his throat. Chu Rong's chest felt as though crushed by a great, hard stone, and breathing became suddenly labored.

"Don't come any closer! Otherwise I'll kill him right now!" Wen Yuan retreated slowly, shouting as he went.

Xu Ziyang's surging forward halted involuntarily. The marriage contract between Chu Rong and Cen Yan hadn't been dissolved yet. If something happened to Chu Rong, Cen Yan would be affected too. Xu Ziyang didn't dare gamble with that.

But Cen Yan dared to gamble.

This spy's cultivation was high, but this was the territory of the Qingyang Heavenly Sect. The spy had gravely wounded two of his sect's disciples — letting him go was unthinkable. The demon clan acted with cruelty and savagery, and if this spy escaped, no one could know how much havoc he would wreak or how many lives would be ruined.

For the public interest and for personal reasons alike, Cen Yan could not be held hostage by this spy's threats. As for Chu Rong — he would do everything he could to save him, but if something truly went wrong, then it was Chu Rong's fate.

"Struggling at death's door, overestimating yourself." Cen Yan spat out the two phrases coldly, his attacking momentum unwavering — fast, vicious, precise, giving Wen Yuan not a single moment to breathe.

"Damn it!" Wen Yuan cursed under his breath. He hadn't expected Cen Yan to be completely immune to threats.

With the hostage useless, it was time, by Wen Yuan's usual practice, to snap Chu Rong's neck clean off.

But Wen Yuan felt the delicate texture beneath his fingertips, the faintly cool skin, the pulse beating beneath the skin transmitting into his mind — his fingertips slid involuntarily, an unconscious stroke — and suddenly, he didn't want to kill Chu Rong.

Wen Yuan released Chu Rong's throat, reached out to clamp his hand around his lean waist, pinning him hard in his arms. He vaulted upward with Chu Rong in tow, dodging Cen Yan's attack, and flung an explosive talisman behind him with his free hand.

The talisman hurtled straight toward Cen Yan's face. Cen Yan had no choice but to fall back and dodge out of the way.

Taking advantage of that gap, Wen Yuan made a dash for the main gate. As he flew over Xu Ziyang's head, he seemed to think of something. His momentum paused, and he dropped behind Xu Ziyang.

Xu Ziyang's spine went cold. The sharp, cultivator's instinct sensed danger. He spun around to counter — but was struck in the chest by a palm from Wen Yuan, whose cultivation was higher than his.

Crack—

Chu Rong heard, with perfect clarity, the sound of ribs breaking. Xu Ziyang's eyes went wide, and he spat a mouthful of blood.

The metallic smell of blood spread through Misty Pine Residence. Xu Ziyang's vision swam. Wen Yuan seized him by the throat, lifted him like a dead dog, and swept out of Misty Pine Residence taking him along.

Cen Yan would give chase soon enough. Wen Yuan didn't dare stop. He had spent over a year lurking in the outer gate and knew the layout of the Qingyang Heavenly Sect well enough. Watching all around him and listening in all directions, he evaded the sect's disciples and made his way back to the front hall, fleeing in a circle.

The few inner-gate disciples who had been watching the test were also giving chase to Wen Yuan. Only Lian Ci remained in the front hall, sitting cross-legged, palms pressed against the backs of the two gravely injured disciples, steadily channeling spiritual energy to heal them. He hadn't even had time to close the secret realm.

Seeing the transfer formation still open, Wen Yuan cracked a noiseless laugh, and dragged Chu Rong and Xu Ziyang into the secret realm.

The transfer formation blazed with blinding white light. Lian Ci's head snapped up in alarm, and following the light, he caught just one glimpse — Xu Ziyang, gripped by the throat by Wen Yuan — vanishing into the transfer formation.

Lian Ci's expression changed drastically: "Ziyang——!!"

The light of the transfer formation was blinding. Chu Rong's instinct was to close his eyes.

When he opened them again, everything before him had transformed into an entirely different scene. As far as the eye could see, towering trees soared into the clouds, a dark and oppressive mass. Their enormous roots twisted and coiled across the ground like great dragons.

Layer upon layer of tree shadows blocked out the sky completely. The air was thick with damp and moisture.

Perhaps because Wen Yuan had held both of them too tightly, the three of them had not been separated by the transfer formation. Wen Yuan looked around, then let out a contemptuous snort of amusement, turning his head toward Xu Ziyang: "Your sect is quite lacking. There are barely any resources in here."

One's sect was one's birthright, and no one could stand hearing it insulted. Wen Yuan's words were blunt and cutting, like a slap delivered straight to Xu Ziyang's face.

Xu Ziyang was both anxious and furious. He instinctively wanted to retort, but his body was badly injured, his throat being throttled, making it nearly impossible to breathe. His refined face flushed alternately green and red. His blood-stained mouth fell open but couldn't produce a single word.

"You are a hostage — you can't die this quickly." Wen Yuan was startled and quickly loosened his grip slightly, allowing Xu Ziyang to breathe.

Once Xu Ziyang's color slowly began to return to normal, Wen Yuan continued: "Don't take what I said the wrong way — the Qingyang Heavenly Sect really is lacking. I lurked in the outer gate for a year and a half and didn't scrape together a single drop of benefit."

The demon clan was a collection of desperate outlaws in essence, at irreconcilable odds with the hundred immortal sects. To plunder resources, they would stop at nothing — stirring up strife between immortal sects and the mortal world, tormenting both realms until neither had any peace.

It wasn't Wen Yuan's first time going undercover in an immortal sect causing trouble, but it was the first time he had come across a sect this stingy. If Cen Yan's performance hadn't been so dazzling throughout the immortal sects, suggesting he could grow into a serious threat to the demon clan in the future, requiring a closer investigation — he would have already run out of patience and bolted long ago.

"You—!" Xu Ziyang's face went a livid dark color. The fury surging in his chest sent the blood and bile rushing straight up to his head. Even his usual refinement and gentlemanly bearing nearly failed to hold.

But Wen Yuan simply ignored him. He turned his head to look at the person in his arms: "Speaking of Cen Yan."

His hand around Chu Rong's waist tightened by two degrees, feeling the maddeningly alluring curve beneath his palm. The impulse that had just faded rose again, flooding back up to his heart.