Chapter Forty-One

Like a waterfall, silken hair cascaded down through the air, and the faint, elegant fragrance of orchids filled Xu Ziyang's embrace in an instant, soaking into his robes.

Xu Ziyang's breath hitched, his throat bobbing involuntarily, and the arm wrapped around the man's slender waist tightened of its own accord, pulling the person in his arms even closer.

Xu Ziyang lifted Chu Rong into a horizontal carry and brought the unconscious man into his own room next door, bending down to lay him upon the bed, his gaze falling to rest on the figure below him.

Chu Rong lay face-up on the bed, his mask fitting seamlessly over his face, his long, dense lashes fanning downward and concealing his glistening eyes, his ink-black hair spilling loose across the pillow, his figure tall and graceful — in the bright daylight that surrounded the bed, he appeared all the more soul-stirring.

The deep darkness in Xu Ziyang's eyes immediately grew heavier. One hand braced against the side of Chu Rong's neck, the other hooked around the silk sash at Chu Rong's waist, his tall frame inclining forward as he was about to press down — when a transmission talisman drifted into his room.

Xu Ziyang's figure froze in an instant, a shadow flickering rapidly across his elegant brows and eyes, completely at odds with his warm, jade-like appearance.

"Ziyang." From within the transmission talisman, Lian Ci's authoritative voice was heavy with deep worry: "Come to the main hall."

Several days had passed since the distress letters were sent out, and not a single whisper of a reply from the immortal sects had returned. Lian Ci had no choice but to gather everyone and begin preparing for the worst.

Xu Ziyang appeared as though he had not heard at all. He lowered his head, his deep, dark gaze fixed on the person so close at hand for a long moment, then unhurriedly rose from the bed and swept his hand up to collect the transmission talisman.

Xu Ziyang roughly straightened his robes, then turned back to look at the person on the bed. He opened his palm and pressed it to Chu Rong's shoulder, casting the Body-Binding Technique upon him. Then, condensing spiritual energy at his fingertip, he tapped Chu Rong once at the side of his neck and cast the Sealed-Voice Incantation.

As he walked out through the door, he flicked his sleeve again, setting down a restriction within the room that sealed the entire chamber, making it impossible for any outsider to enter.

At the same time.

One by one, reply letters from the various immortal sects came pouring in like snowflakes into the hands of the Qingyang Heavenly Sect disciples stationed in the mortal realm to handle correspondence.

"This many sects are willing to come support the sect?" The disciple who received the letters gaped, eyes wide with stunned disbelief, his face written all over with incredulity.

"That's not all." The fellow disciple beside him was shaking with excitement, the hand holding one reply letter trembling without stop: "Look at this — what is this?"

The first disciple took it over curiously, and his eyes immediately snapped wide open in astonishment, his speech coming out in stutters: "Th-this-this… the Ning — Ning Yuan Immortal Venerate of the Qingxu Sect?"

Surely he wasn't seeing things?

Hadn't Immortal Venerate Ning Yuan been in closed-door seclusion for a hundred years? When had he emerged?

And a figure as formidable as Immortal Venerate Ning Yuan — he was actually willing to extend a helping hand to a small sect like Qingyang?

The two disciples held the letter and confirmed it back and forth several times, certain they weren't seeing things, then sucked in a simultaneous sharp breath and tremblingly relayed the information back to the sect.

In a moment or two, a water-blue spirit transmission talisman transformed into a streak of light and flew into the main hall at the peak of Qingyang Heavenly Sect.

When Xu Ziyang arrived at the main hall, he just barely crossed paths with the spirit talisman as it flew past.

He watched as the talisman flew into Lian Ci's hands, and in the next moment, the disciple's report within the talisman echoed through the great hall word by word.

Lian Ci, who had not closed his eyes in several days and had been wracked with worry, was uncharacteristically caught off guard — he shot upright from his seat at the head of the hall: "The Gate of Heavenly Mechanisms, Cloud-Hidden Valley, the Dharma Crossing Temple, and even Qingxu Sect's Immortal Venerate Ning Yuan has…"

What virtue or merit did Qingyang Heavenly Sect possess, that it could actually stir an Immortal Venerate to make a personal appearance!

He Ming, who had held very little hope for the plea sent to the immortal sects, also changed his gloomy countenance of the past few days, the joy on his face barely able to be suppressed.

"Heaven has not forsaken Qingyang Heavenly Sect." He Ming lightly clapped the shoulder of Cen Yan, who stood at his side: "Yan'er, we are saved!"

Cen Yan pressed his lips slightly together and quietly released a breath he had been holding in his heart — the anxiety that had kept it suspended for days finally settled back into place.

He had won the gamble.

The immortal sects that had responded to the plea were even more numerous than he had anticipated.

"No matter how much discord there has been between the immortal sects in the past — the sects have come from afar to aid Qingyang this time, and the proper courtesies must not be neglected." Lian Ci barely managed to rein in his elation, his tone grave and proper: "Ziyang, Yan'er, Zhan'er — assist the Inner Affairs Hall and see to the proper accommodation of all those from the immortal sects. There must be absolutely no discourtesy."

The three of them bowed and accepted the order in unison: "Yes, Sect Master!"

Withdrawing from the hall, the three went directly to the Inner Affairs Hall. The Inner Affairs steward, understanding the situation, immediately began discussing the relevant matters with them, and a clear division of responsibilities was settled upon quickly.

As the three parted ways after leaving the Inner Affairs Hall, Xu Ziyang suddenly called out to Cen Yan — the smile at the corner of his lips was plain to see, but the light within his eyes was utterly inscrutable: "Junior Brother Cen, my thanks."

For delivering such a great gift to him.

"Thank me?" Cen Yan was puzzled — what reason, out of nowhere, would Senior Brother have to thank him?

Xu Ziyang offered no explanation, and with a smile, turned and left.

Cen Yan didn't dwell on his words either, and turned to immerse himself in the busy work ahead.

Wusong Residence.

Moonlight spilled in through the window, casting a thin, frost-like pale hue over the room.

On the bed that was turned partially toward the window, the man's fearsome mask covered his face. His crow-feather-like lashes trembled, and his clouded consciousness slowly began to gather and return.

Pain.

The first thing Chu Rong registered was the pain radiating from the back of his neck, threading through his nerves and piercing straight into his brain.

The beautiful brow beneath his mask furrowed unconsciously. He instinctively tried to raise his hand to cover the back of his neck — but his hand was rigid and immovable, entirely beyond his control.

Chu Rong sensed something was wrong and snapped his eyes open. Darkness filled his vision — he could make nothing out — but the thick, solid sensation beneath him told him that he appeared to be lying on a bed.

Where was this place?

The memories from just before his consciousness had cut off surged up all at once into his mind. Chu Rong's lashes trembled, his pupils widening slightly in disbelief.

Why had Xu Ziyang knocked him unconscious?

Chu Rong was quite certain he had done nothing to wrong Xu Ziyang — in fact, back in the secret realm, he had even saved Xu Ziyang's life. Had Xu Ziyang not also said he would repay the debt of gratitude?

Then Xu Ziyang had all the more reason not to have acted against him.

Chu Rong could not make sense of it no matter how he thought it over. Worse still, the stiffness spreading through his limbs was unmistakably the sensation that came only from being subjected to the Body-Binding Technique.

Chu Rong felt as though he had been thrown back to the last time — the time Pei Zhan had bound him with the Body-Binding Technique — unable to move, stripped of control over his own body. A restless agitation rose unbidden in his heart.

Suddenly, a sound of footsteps broke through Chu Rong's thoughts.

Someone pushed the door open and stepped into the room one step at a time. At the same time, a faint, clean fragrance of food drifted through the air.

Thud —

A dull sound of a food tray meeting the table surface rang out, and the footsteps paused. After two or three breaths, the footsteps resumed within the room, drawing nearer and nearer toward the bed.

A moment later, the footsteps stopped at the bedside.

The person seemed to sit down at the edge of the bed — Chu Rong could clearly feel the edge of the bed bowing downward slightly under the weight.

Chu Rong moved his eyes, borrowing what faint light surrounded the bed to make out the vague outline of a tall, upright figure. But the light was too dim and his field of vision too limited — he could not make out the person's face.

"Xu Ziyang, is it you?" Chu Rong's thin lips parted slightly as he asked tentatively — but strangely, not a single sound came out.

Chu Rong was mildly startled. His thin lips opened and closed again, voicing two more sentences — and still not a trace of sound emerged.

Why couldn't he speak?

Chu Rong's mind raced through possibilities, and having read the full text, he quickly guessed what had happened — the Sealed-Voice Incantation.

This person had cast the Sealed-Voice Incantation on him, cutting off even his last avenue of calling for help.

Nothing like this had ever happened before. An involuntary panic began to spread through the depths of Chu Rong's heart, his nostrils flaring as his breathing grew rapid and unsteady.

His butterfly-wing lashes quivered. Though he fought hard to maintain his composure, anxiety and fear still seeped through the corners of his eyes in thin, meandering threads — and against the crimson that had bled out to the tails of his eyes, it carried a bewitching allure that made one's whole body tremble.

The person sitting at the bedside could no longer hold back. His upright frame tilted forward, and his slender fingers with their distinct knuckles reached of their own will toward the corner of Chu Rong's eye. The face hidden in the shadows slowly emerged from the dark.

Though the details of his features remained somewhat blurred, Chu Rong recognized the man from his familiar silhouette.

If not Xu Ziyang, then who?

What on earth did Xu Ziyang intend to do? Could it be that Xu Ziyang still believed he had feelings for Cen Yan, and was treating him as a love rival — deliberately taking revenge on him?

Chu Rong turned it over and over in his mind — this was the most plausible explanation. But if that were the case, this act of revenge on Xu Ziyang's part was entirely unnecessary.

He had already dissolved the engagement with Cen Yan today. He only needed to wait for the Mountain-Guarding Grand Formation to open, and he would leave Qingyang Heavenly Sect — never to be entangled with Cen Yan again.

Chu Rong could not move, and had no way to evade. He could only allow the man's sword-calloused fingers to stroke the corner of his eye, the scorching heat of his fingertip rubbing at Chu Rong's already flushed eye-tail until a small patch of deep crimson bloomed there — growing ever more devastatingly alluring.

Xu Ziyang's fingers paused, his breath immediately shifting — noticeably heavier and rougher.

He lowered his eyes to meet the uncertain, questioning gaze of the person on the bed, then naturally withdrew his hand. His warm, low voice — deep and hoarse — resonated heavily through the still room: "When did you wake?"

As the words fell, he seemed to remember that the person before him couldn't speak. He lowered his head with a soft laugh, and with a flick of his fingers, lit the candles in the room.

Puff —

The flames leapt up swiftly, and in the blink of an eye, candlelight flooded the room with brightness.

Chu Rong could now clearly see the jade-pure face before him — lips curved in a warm, genial smile, while the deep eyes beneath churned with undercurrents he could not read, making one's heart clench with unease.

Chu Rong felt a chill in his chest. Something about Xu Ziyang seemed different from his usual gentle demeanor.

But he had no time to dwell on that. Chu Rong's long lashes fanned as he blinked, gazing coldly at Xu Ziyang — silently indicating that Xu Ziyang should release him at once.

With his perceptive mind, how could Xu Ziyang fail to understand what Chu Rong was conveying?

He slowly let the smile fade from his face. His handsome features grew taut, and with one hand he lifted Chu Rong's chin by the mask, forcing Chu Rong to tilt his head back and look directly up at him. The oppressive air around him felt almost solidified.

"It seems you haven't yet read the situation clearly." Xu Ziyang spoke each word with deliberate weight, and the gaze he trained down upon Chu Rong made Chu Rong feel a wave of bone-deep dread.