Chapter Twenty-Four

-

The next day.

Sunlight dispersed the gloom, brightening Wusong Residence.

Chu Rong had just put on his mask and gotten off the bed when the door was forcefully pushed open from outside. Pei Zhan, dressed in black, tall and imposing, strode in as if entering an empty house.

Behind his mask, Chu Rong pressed his pale lips together and spoke slowly, his voice hoarse and calm: "What do you want?"

His assumption from yesterday had been too optimistic. Pei Zhan meant what he said—he had indeed returned.

Of all the main leads, Pei Zhan was公认 the most troublesome. Chu Rong truly wanted nothing to do with him. Even reading about the torment Pei Zhan inflicted on the original owner in the text had sent chills down his spine. Now that he was in the original owner's body, the reality was even more unsettling.

Having spent over twenty years in the modern world, Chu Rong had a habit of closing doors and windows before sleeping. Overnight, the orchid fragrance from his body had filled the room, wisps drifting past Pei Zhan's nose.

A flicker passed through Pei Zhan's eyes. He surveyed the inner room and sat down heavily before the desk. His tone was lazy and low, leaving no room for negotiation: "Will you come with me willingly, or do I have to take you?"

Was there much difference between the two?

Chu Rong curved his lips in a smile, his eyes shimmering like rippling water, captivating. "What if I choose neither?"

Pei Zhan's eyes narrowed. His voice held a dangerous edge: "You can try."

He threw Chu Rong's own words back at him. The threat was clear—given Pei Zhan's nature, he was capable of anything.

Chu Rong lowered his gaze, his thick lashes casting shadows on his mask. After weighing his options, he wisely asked: "Where to?"

Clearly, he chose to go willingly.

He Ming and the others might show him leniency for Cen Yan's sake, but Pei Zhan wouldn't. He didn't even spare Cen Yan any consideration, let alone his fiancé.

He didn't want to experience being forcibly taken by a Golden Core cultivator again.

Pei Zhan snorted. "Follow me."

-

Chu Rong followed Pei Zhan to the inner sect disciples' training ground.

From a distance, he saw about a dozen disciples swinging their swords, sweating profusely. Their cultivation levels were low, their sword techniques flashy but ineffective.

"Senior Brother Pei!" Seeing Pei Zhan approach, the disciples stopped and bowed in unison.

For the past two days, Lian Ci and the others had been discussing the demon intelligence, leaving Pei Zhan in charge of the inner sect disciples' training. Pei Zhan acknowledged them lazily, his gold-flecked eyes sweeping over the group: "There's one missing. Who's not here?"

A disciple quickly responded: "It's Qing Yuan. He's been going to the back mountain to practice his sword for an extra hour before training. No one knows why."

Qing Yuan?

A flicker passed through Chu Rong's eyes. Wasn't that the name mentioned when Cen Yan accused him the day he transmigrated?

Chu Rong remembered the original owner had extorted quite a few spirit stones from him. Had disproving the original owner's guilt affected Qing Yuan?

Cultivation depended on individual destiny. Qing Yuan's diligence was a good thing. Pei Zhan didn't ask further. He glanced at Chu Rong: "Wait."

The disciples now noticed Chu Rong, hidden behind Pei Zhan's tall frame.

He was tall and slender, his black hair cascading over his shoulders. His flowing sleeves hung loose. A faint orchid fragrance surrounded him. On his fair, slender neck was a ring of purple-blue marks.

Lighter than yesterday, yet not unpleasant. Instead, it lent a certain alluring quality that drew the eye.

The man raised his lashes at the words, glancing at Pei Zhan. His captivating eyes, combined with his eerie mask, created a stunningly beautiful picture: "Do I have a choice?"

The disciples' minds went blank. Their hearts raced like storm-tossed waves. Their cheeks and ears burned. They stood frozen, forgetting even what they were supposed to do.

And, if they weren't mistaken, the mask on the man's face looked familiar.

An unusual silence fell over the training ground.

Ignoring everyone's reactions, Chu Rong looked around. The training ground was open and bare, with only a few rocks of varying sizes scattered at the edges. Nowhere to sit.

After a moment's hesitation, he chose a clean, appropriately sized rock and sat down. Looking back, Pei Zhan had already entered the training ground, casually taking a sword from a disciple and demonstrating techniques.

The same techniques, in Pei Zhan's hands, were vastly different in power and effect. Compared to what the disciples had just shown, it was a complete rout.

Observing closely, one could detect slight stiffness in Pei Zhan's movements.

Chu Rong knew why. The ten lashes from the Disciplinary Hall struck a cultivator's spiritual consciousness directly. Though they wouldn't cause lasting harm, they were enough to make Pei Zhan uncomfortable for a few days.

The corners of Chu Rong's pale lips curled up. Some of his frustration eased, replaced by a hint of schadenfreude.

"Chu Rong—!!" Suddenly, a furious roar shook the training ground.

The disciples in the training ground turned to see a young man in black training robes storming towards them. His fists were clenched so tight the veins bulged. His teeth ground audibly. Sweat dripped from his high ponytail. His chest heaved with exertion, clearly having rushed over.

Wasn't this Qing Yuan?

So where was this Chu Rong they were talking about?

The disciples followed Qing Yuan's glare to the man sitting at the edge of the field. Their eyes widened in disbelief. That was Chu Rong?!

Wait!

It dawned on them—wasn't that the mask Chu Rong always wore?

Chu Rong's demeanor had changed so much compared to a few days ago, and he rarely appeared in the inner sect recently. No wonder they hadn't recognized him.

Chu Rong frowned, following the sound. His eyes landed on a familiar face—the disciple who had led the harassment at the Changsheng Hall on his second day here.

Connecting this with Pei Zhan's earlier question, Chu Rong quickly guessed the newcomer's identity. This was Qing Yuan?

A flicker of understanding passed through Chu Rong's eyes. No wonder he had been so hostile at the Changsheng Hall, even wanting to break his legs.

Chu Rong had no intention of dealing with Qing Yuan, but Qing Yuan wasn't about to let him off. He strode over, a sweaty, tanned arm swinging towards Chu Rong: "The training ground is for inner sect disciples, not for the likes of you. Get out!"

The last time Chu Rong had been caught by the demon spy was because the spy was at the Golden Core level, with high cultivation and speed. Chu Rong's reactions, no matter how quick, couldn't save him. But Qing Yuan was just a mortal. The original owner's body was decent enough physically. Chu Rong simply shifted to the side, easily dodging Qing Yuan's attack.

How dare Chu Rong dodge?!

Qing Yuan's eyes widened, his facial muscles tightening, veins bulging at his temples. His anger turned to murderous intent. He twisted his wrist and lunged at Chu Rong again!

Zheng—

A cold, gleaming sword blade stopped at Qing Yuan's throat, freezing him in place.

"Senior Brother Pei?" Qing Yuan stared in disbelief at the tall man in the training ground, who held the sword extended, controlling it with spiritual energy. Why was Senior Brother Pei protecting Chu Rong?

Even Chu Rong's fair face behind the mask showed surprise.

"I brought him here." Pei Zhan didn't turn around. His casual tone carried an unyielding authority.

How could this be?

Qing Yuan found it increasingly hard to believe. He clenched his teeth, pointing at Chu Rong angrily, his voice rising: "Senior Brother Pei, don't you know that Chu Rong is the one who killed..."

"You have a problem with that?" Pei Zhan glanced sideways, his gold-flecked eyes moving down to Qing Yuan. The sword edge pressed closer to Qing Yuan's neck. One move, and it would cut through his vulnerable throat.

Qing Yuan felt as if a hand was choking him. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Seeing Chu Rong had made him lose his head, forgetting that Pei Zhan hated being questioned.

Pale-faced, he mouthed three words: No, I don't.

Pei Zhan figured as much. He raised his hand, retracting the sword, his tone returning to its usual laziness: "Come train."

Qing Yuan collapsed to his knees, his heart pounding with fear.

Struggling to his feet, his anger reignited at the sight of Chu Rong, still spotless. He lowered his voice, his threat chilling: "Just wait. I won't let this go."

Chu Rong didn't like being threatened. This was the third time Qing Yuan had threatened him, and he'd already attacked. Enough was enough.

A cold glint flashed in Chu Rong's eyes. He let out a meaningful laugh from behind his mask. He stepped closer to Qing Yuan, his peach blossom eyes shimmering, the slight red at their corners captivating. His voice was low, carrying undisguised contempt. His breath, laced with orchid fragrance, was warm and faint: "Is that so? I'll wait. But you'd better hurry."

He had six months before he left.

Back in the mortal realm, far away, Qing Yuan wouldn't be able to touch him.

Qing Yuan froze, staring at the captivating eyes so close, momentarily forgetting to breathe.

When he registered the meaning of Chu Rong's words, his face turned red, then white. He tried to retort, but his Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily.

His eyes blazing, Qing Yuan glared at Chu Rong as if wanting to tear him apart: "You'll regret this!"

Chu Rong gave a noncommittal flick of his long sleeve and sat back on the rock.

His suggestion to hurry wasn't just mockery.

As a reader, he knew the plot better than anyone except the author. In the upcoming beast riot, Qing Yuan, practicing in the back mountain, would be the first victim.

A beast would charge out, biting off his arm. If not for the screams attracting disciples passing by, Qing Yuan might have been devoured whole.

Traumatized, Qing Yuan would never recover. Later, when Cen Yan reformed Qingyang Tianzong, Qing Yuan's crimes would be revealed, and he would be the first punished. His fate would be no better than the original owner's.

-

Training lasted three hours.

Sitting at the edge, Chu Rong frequently felt piercing gazes from the training ground, as if wanting to tear him apart. He ignored them, quietly watching the training and memorizing the sword techniques.

When training ended, Pei Zhan walked to the edge, his breathing still even.

Chu Rong didn't look at him. He stood to leave.

"Did I say you could go?" Pei Zhan grabbed his wrist. His palm was hot and a little sweaty. The calluses from sword practice scraped against Chu Rong's skin, instantly reddening his delicate wrist joint, like a peeled pink peach pit.

Pei Zhan's thumb moved, rubbing involuntarily, then he released Chu Rong's hand: "Are you made of porcelain?"

How could just a touch make his wrist red?

Chu Rong ignored Pei Zhan's sarcasm. His eyes darkened as he rubbed his wrist, the earlier anger resurfacing. He asked coldly: "What exactly do you want?"

Pei Zhan had dragged him here just to watch him train the inner sect disciples?

Pei Zhan looked at Chu Rong's wrist. After rubbing, the joint looked even redder, like a petal from a red plum blossom, oddly alluring.

His gaze visibly stalled. He was about to say something when a transmission talisman floated into the training ground. Lian Ci's authoritative voice came through: "Zhan'er, come to the main hall immediately."

Lian Ci's summons usually meant official business. Pei Zhan acknowledged, gathered the talisman, and strode away.

Chu Rong almost laughed. No wonder Pei Zhan had barely avoided disaster later in the story.

His jade-white fingers curled beneath his sleeves. He left, his robes billowing, leaving a trail of orchid fragrance.

The disciples near the edge caught the scent, staring blankly at his retreating figure, their faces flushing.

-

Returning to Wusong Residence, Chu Rong encountered Shi Ming delivering food.

"Young Master." Shi Ming bowed respectfully, his gaze unconsciously drawn to Chu Rong's feet. Catching a glimpse of white boots, his breathing hitched, and he quickly looked away.

Chu Rong didn't notice anything amiss. He acknowledged Shi Ming briefly, then looked at his wrist. The redness had faded to a faint pink.

Remembering Pei Zhan's sweaty hand had touched it, Chu Rong felt a wave of discomfort. He shook his wrist and changed direction towards the back mountain.

Hot spring water gurgled. Chu Rong crouched by the pool, soaking his wrist, scrubbing repeatedly until the skin was rubbed raw and red before stopping.

Chu Rong's skin marked easily. His wrist remained red until evening.

When the apparition appeared at Wusong Residence, the redness was the first thing it noticed.

Author's Note:

Minor revisions. Sorry for the wait~

ps: The male leads will start appearing more from here on.