Chapter Forty-Two

A nameless chill crept up Chu Rong's spine all the way to the back of his skull. His scalp prickled instinctively, every nerve in his body pulling taut.

What situation?

Chu Rong desperately wanted to ask the man what he meant, but with the Sealed-Voice Incantation cast upon him, he had absolutely no way to speak.

He could only listen as the man's low, hoarse voice spoke above him: "You have already dissolved the engagement with Junior Brother Cen — you have lost your last support, and now stand utterly alone."

How did Xu Ziyang know… wait, could it be that when he and Cen Yan dissolved the engagement, Xu Ziyang had witnessed all of it?

Did that not mean he had fallen completely into the position of fish on a chopping block, at the mercy of another's blade? Xu Ziyang was a Golden Core cultivator — to kill an ordinary mortal like him would be effortless. In fact, more than a few people in this sect could crush him with barely a thought.

Could it be that even after turning the tide from the original host's fate of being convicted and imprisoned, he still could not escape a destined end of death?

One after another, dark guesses rose in Chu Rong's mind. His thick lashes trembled finely, the color drained from his face, and cold sweat beaded at his brow.

Though the mask blocked Xu Ziyang's view of Chu Rong's expression, he could hear that Chu Rong's breathing had noticeably quickened — shallow, trembling breaths that made something in his chest run hot.

Xu Ziyang's throat bobbed up and down, his already-rough voice sinking several degrees deeper, as though scraped smooth by sandpaper: "Only I can keep you safe."

The hand gripping Chu Rong's jaw released and fell to Chu Rong's waist, his searing palm carefully tracing the curve beneath it. The supple, yielding sensation made the dark tide churning in his eyes surge even more violently: "Chu Rong, the only person you can rely on is me. Once the matter of the sect's baleful energy is resolved, you and I shall form a Heavenly Dao Marriage Bond."

Had Xu Ziyang lost his mind?

Chu Rong's pupils contracted sharply as he stared in stunned disbelief into the man's dark, fathomless black eyes mere inches from his own — and finally, belatedly, understood what the gaze Xu Ziyang had been directing at him truly meant.

— Desire.

An overwhelming, all-consuming covetousness, as though he wished to strip Chu Rong apart bone by bone and devour him whole, to grind him to pieces inch by inch.

Hadn't Xu Ziyang always been deeply entangled with Cen Yan, their feelings warming at quite a pace? How could he possibly have such feelings for a ruined-faced cannon-fodder gong like him?

Could Xu Ziyang have a fetish for ugliness?

Modern society was open-minded, and Chu Rong had received an elite education — he was no narrow-minded person. As long as a personal preference caused no harm to others, he would always choose to respect it.

But if that preference came directed at him, then he could not accept it.

Chu Rong's pupils trembled. His complexion shifted degree by degree toward an ashen pallor, and the warmth transmitted through the large hand at his waist filled him with acute discomfort — a wave of nausea rolling up from his hollow stomach.

Beneath the mask, his pale, smooth lips pressed into a rigid line. His glistening eyes locked warily onto Xu Ziyang's every move, the deep crimson at his eye-tails so vivid it made one dizzy.

The darkness in Xu Ziyang's gaze deepened again. His large palm tightened around Chu Rong's slender waist, and he couldn't stop himself from leaning forward — yet in that moment he inadvertently met the eyes of the person beneath him, which had turned abruptly ice-cold. His tall frame stiffened to a sudden halt.

"You are unwilling?" Xu Ziyang's expression darkened, his sword-calloused burning palm withdrawing from Chu Rong's waist only to seize his shoulder instead. His fingers tightened, and the strength in his large hand surged all at once — enough force to nearly crush Chu Rong's bones: "Cen Yan can, but I cannot?"

In his agitation, he had even dropped the address of "Junior Brother Cen."

Violent pain radiated from Chu Rong's shoulder. The color drained from his face beneath the mask. He had only just freed himself from the shackles of that engagement — how could he possibly bind himself in another?

And furthermore, he was a straight man. How could he ever be willing to be taken by another man!

A heavy, suffocating pressure spread through the room, pressing down until it was hard to breathe.

Just as Chu Rong thought his shoulder was about to be ruined — a loud, clear gurgle sounded from his stomach, shattering the standoff between the two of them.

Xu Ziyang's large hand paused. Mortals required three meals a day — from the time Chu Rong had fallen unconscious until now, more than half a day had passed, and his stomach was of course hollow by this point.

Besides, this situation had been entirely of his own making.

Xu Ziyang's expression shifted between light and shadow as he looked at the person beneath him. He withdrew his large hand from Chu Rong's shoulder and flipped his hand to retrieve a pure white porcelain vial from his storage space. He pulled the stopper free and, using spiritual energy, extracted three drops of a liquid that looked like clear water.

Chun Yi Chan — Spring Entanglement — was an aphrodisiac of exceptionally potent effect. A single drop was enough to cloud one's mind and leave one confused and disoriented. Three drops could reduce even a diamond into yielding softness; no matter how strong one's willpower, resistance would be impossible.

And if the antidote was not taken within a sufficient time, the medicine would backlash — the afflicted person would suffer unbearable abdominal pain.

This drug had come into Xu Ziyang's possession the last time the Mountain-Guarding Grand Formation opened and he left the sect — he had encountered a disciple of the Harmonious Union Sect during his travels and taken it from them.

Xu Ziyang drove all three drops of the Spring Entanglement into Chu Rong's body, his hoarse voice neither hurried nor slow — yet like the whisper of a demon: "Chu Rong, I will wait for you to come to me."

The vial bore no label. Chu Rong did not know the drug's name, nor had any way of knowing what effect it would have. Unknown dread seized his mind, and the composure he had been forcing with such effort cracked open — the terror within spilling out through the fissure.

Xu Ziyang appeared not to notice Chu Rong's unease. The low pressure radiating from his entire being gradually dispersed, and his tense features slowly smoothed out, revealing a warm, jade-like smile that reached even the very depths of his eyes.

As though the aggressively dangerous man of a moment ago had never been him at all.

"It is my fault." Xu Ziyang's voice was warm and low, and he even calmly explained to the person on the bed as though nothing had happened: "The immortal sects will be arriving at the sect to provide support before long — there are many matters to handle, and things ran rather late."

Chu Rong recalled that in the original plot, when the Mountain-Guarding Grand Formation was eroded by baleful energy, Qingyang Heavenly Sect had immediately sent out distress letters to the various immortal sects — but barely any sect responded. With no other choice, Cen Yan had ventured out of the sect to seek a solution, and it was precisely outside that he encountered several of the male leads, setting off the chain of entanglements that followed.

But now — how was the plot so different from the original text? Why were so many immortal sects coming to offer support?

Still, these were events of the main plotline and had nothing to do with him, a cannon-fodder gong. Chu Rong did not dwell on it. His attention was entirely on the drug now inside his body, and despite the man's great shift in demeanor, the wariness in his heart had not diminished in the slightest — rather, it had only grown.

But Xu Ziyang, contrary to expectation, did nothing further. Instead, he released the Body-Binding Technique and considerately stepped away from the bedside, saying in a gentle, soft tone: "I have brought a few dishes — try them. If you dislike them, I will have them changed tomorrow."

Chu Rong followed his gaze to the table and indeed saw three small dishes — elegantly presented, appealing to both eye and nose, and quite appetizing.

Only, Chu Rong was in no mood to eat.

He merely glanced once, then looked away, using all four limbs to scramble off the bed at speed and dash straight for the door.

Strangely, Xu Ziyang made no move to stop him — he simply stood there smiling, watching as Chu Rong rushed to the doorway, reached out, and pulled at the door.

His hand grabbed at nothing.

What was happening?

Chu Rong was briefly stunned, then stubbornly reached out to pull the door again. Once more, his hand was blocked by a transparent barrier like a membrane of water — the door latch was right there before his eyes, yet no matter what he did, he could not touch it.

"This room has been sealed by a restriction I set. You cannot leave, and no sound from inside this room can reach outside." The man's low, deep voice resonated through the room.

The only path left to Chu Rong was to beg him.

He would make Chu Rong understand — to survive, the only option was to stay by his side, to comply with him, to please him.

Not long ago, the unnamed senior who had departed frequently used restrictions, and over the past four-plus months, Chu Rong had experienced the effects of restrictions many times. Confining a single ordinary mortal like him was more than sufficient.

Chu Rong turned around, gripping his hands into tight fists until his knuckles went white. A mortal had not a single chance against Xu Ziyang — the ways in which Xu Ziyang could control him were simply too many to count.

Knowing full well it would be like an egg dashing itself against a rock, yet stubbornly resisting anyway — that was not Chu Rong's way. He forcibly suppressed the fury burning in his chest, raised his arm, and with a cold expression, made a gesture of dismissal.

Not only did Xu Ziyang not take offense — he even said in a low, unhurried voice: "Rest assured, the food contains nothing impure."

Chu Rong appeared not to hear him. Firelight flickered in the shadow cast by his downcast lashes — butterfly-wing shadows against the floor. He stood where he was, unmoving, for a long, long time.

After an unknown stretch of time, Chu Rong suddenly felt a scorching heat rise up inside his body — an endless, surging current of warmth flowing outward from his lower abdomen, flooding through his four limbs and every corner of his body until all of him ran hot.

In barely a moment's time, every inch of his skin had turned burning, his breath growing feverish as well. Beneath the mask, fine beads of sweat broke out across his fair brow.

So hot.

Why did he suddenly feel so unbearably hot?

A watery mist gradually gathered over Chu Rong's eyes, the tails of his eyes growing ever more vividly crimson. Unknowingly, his lips parted, scorching breath spilling out from within — dampening his pale lips, the soft flesh of them flushing red from the heat.

No.

It was not only heat — even his four limbs were beginning to go soft.

Something was very wrong.

Chu Rong hunched his back, his mind flashing to the drug Xu Ziyang had driven into his body — yes, the drug! It had to be the effect of that unknown medicine!

Chu Rong bit down hard on his lips. Inside his sleeves, his jade-pale fingers clenched tight, nails digging into his palms and leaving crescent-moon imprints. His unsteady frame lurched toward the bed, and when he reached its edge, his slender, weakened body toppled onto it. He curled his four limbs inward, fighting against the heat burning through his body.

On the other side of the door.

Xu Ziyang estimated that the drug's effect had taken hold. The smile at the corner of his lips deepened, and he walked away at an unhurried pace. As he passed through the corridor, he encountered Yun Zhi, who had just finished his tasks.

"Senior Brother." Yun Zhi bowed respectfully.

Xu Ziyang appeared to be in very good spirits. He flashed Yun Zhi a warm, amiable smile, and before leaving, gave his shoulder an encouraging pat: "Go and rest early."

As the hem of his blue-gauze outer robe swayed and drifted, threads of orchid fragrance trailed from it. Yun Zhi froze — wasn't that the scent that clung to Young Master Chu?

After Xu Ziyang had walked far away, Yun Zhi looked toward Chu Rong's room and found it pitch-dark inside.

By the Young Master's usual routine, he should not have retired yet. And though the matter of the sect's baleful energy had been stirring up quite a commotion, he had not heard that anything had happened to the Young Master.

Whereas Senior Brother's room — though its occupant was clearly absent — had its candles burning bright.

Yun Zhi walked, puzzled, to the outside of Chu Rong's room, raised his bronzed, solid arm, and knocked twice on the door: "Young Master? Are you in?"

All around was silence. No movement stirred from within the room.

Had the Young Master not yet returned?

Yun Zhi headed back to his own room with repeated backward glances, his heart hanging uneasily the whole night, his sleep fitful and restless.

The following day.

Yun Zhi rose early as usual to sweep and do his chores. Making his way near Chu Rong's room, he happened to see Xu Ziyang carrying a food box and entering one of the rooms.

Yun Zhi recognized it — that was Xu Ziyang's room, the one he himself had tidied up.

Yun Zhi stared in confusion at the closed door. Senior Brother was at the Golden Core stage and had long since entered a state of abstinence from grains — had he not already stopped requiring food long ago?