Chapter Fifty

Chu Rong's still-hazy mind abruptly became clear.

His dense lashes trembled. Both hands pressed against the bed, his instinct was to leap off and put distance between himself and the unfamiliar man at the bedside. His voice — somewhat hoarse — came out with a mesmerizing curl to its end note, and a forced composure: "Who are you?"

Chu Rong bit down on his still-slightly-red lip, every muscle in his body tensed. His memory was still stuck at the moment the drug had taken hold — and his subconscious recoiled from the approach of anyone at all.

Ning Yuan extended one firm, long arm. His distinctly-knuckled large hand locked precisely around Chu Rong's waistline and gave a slight pull — drawing the person completely into his arms.

He raised a hand, and his warm fingertip pressed against Chu Rong's lips, stopping the person in his arms from continuing to bite down on them.

Chu Rong's body lost its balance and his back met the broad expanse of the man's chest. An ice-and-snow-cold masculine scent flooded his nostrils. His supple, long body stiffened slightly — and in the next instant, a familiar voice reached his ear: "The drug in your body has been dispelled. There is no need to worry."

Only then did Chu Rong realize — the malignant, tumor-like pain that had been coiled in his lower abdomen was gone. The heat inside him had dispersed as well. Aside from some lingering weakness in his limbs, he was, on the whole, no different from before the drug had been administered.

Chu Rong could feel clearly that the Spring Entanglement's effects had indeed been eliminated.

But — as had been mentioned in the original text, to dispel the Spring Entanglement, there were only two methods: the first was to take an antidote, but the antidote was only available to members of the Harmonious Union Sect.

The second was to lie with someone and release the drug's potency that way.

He had been under the drug for a full day and night, and he didn't know whether Qingyang Heavenly Sect's Mountain-Guarding Grand Formation had been opened. In such a short time, where would one find a Harmonious Union Sect disciple?

Chu Rong's expression shifted. He quickly looked down and checked his clothing, lifted his sleeves to inspect the skin of his arms.

His clothes were intact. The silk cord was properly tied at his waist, showing no signs of having been disturbed. There was not a trace of any compromising marking on his skin anywhere. The alarm that had crossed his face finally eased.

Could it be that there was actually a third method to dispel the drug's effects?

Wait!

Chu Rong realized belatedly — this voice, wasn't it…?

Chu Rong tilted his head back slightly. Ink-black hair cascaded down both shoulders, and his exquisitely beautiful face, illuminated by the candlelight of the room, was breathtakingly lovely.

His shining eyes held surprise as he looked at the man so close at hand. The lip he had been biting loosened unconsciously, and it opened and closed as breath tinged with orchid fragrance exhaled: "Senior?"

This man was the one who had been with him — as two white shadows — for the past four months?!

Ning Yuan's eyes darkened slightly. His fingertip pressed involuntarily once against Chu Rong's lips — and before Chu Rong noticed, he naturally withdrew his hand and returned it to circle the waist of the person in his arms.

"It's me." The cool, deep reply did not come from Ning Yuan's lips — it came from the far end of the bedside.

Chu Rong turned his head slightly and followed the sound — there, sitting at the edge of the bed, was a tall white shadow he recognized. Its featureless head was oriented in his direction.

This white shadow was more familiar to Chu Rong than almost anything — and comparing carefully, it was indeed exactly the same frame as Ning Yuan.

The man before him really was the Senior he knew.

Chu Rong had lived alongside the white shadow day and night for four months and knew it bore him no ill will. The tension strung through his body gradually relaxed.

Chu Rong blinked, swept his gaze around the room, and recalled the last image his consciousness had held before it slipped away. The crimson-tinged arcs of his eye tails curved upward — he smiled and brought his gaze back to the man before him. His ink-black hair trailed down both shoulders in cascading streams: "Was it Senior who saved me?"

Ning Yuan's eyes darkened another shade. The arm holding his waist tightened. In his fierce eyes, a trace of soft warmth crept in: "Ning Yuan."

He lowered his gaze slightly, his deep-pool eyes meeting those of the person in his arms. Each word fell with deliberate weight — like a clap of thunder detonating in Chu Rong's ear: "Rong Rong, my real name is Ning Yuan."

Chu Rong's pupils trembled. The smile froze on his lips at once. Ning… what?

Was it the one he knew — the one with the highest cultivation in the original text of The Record of Celestial Freedom, who had never appeared before anyone from beginning to end, and whose name had only come up a few times from others' mouths — that Ning Yuan?

Chu Rong was so stunned that he didn't even notice Ning Yuan's intimate form of address for him. His captivating eyes were full of disbelief: "You're Ning Yuan??"

Ning Yuan had been famous for hundreds of years — there were few in the three realms who didn't know his name. Chu Rong had lived in the sect for over three years — that he would recognize him was not surprising.

Ning Yuan breathed in the rich orchid fragrance emanating from the person in his arms. His breath sank slightly. The arm encircling Chu Rong's waist tightened of its own accord. He made no denial: "A-Yuan. Rong Rong, call me A-Yuan."

Chu Rong said nothing and simply ignored Ning Yuan's request entirely. He still wasn't quite sure he believed it. According to the original plot, shouldn't Ning Yuan still be in seclusion? How had he ended up at Qingyang Heavenly Sect?

Before Chu Rong could make sense of it, his body was suddenly airborne — the man had lifted him horizontally from the bed.

"What are you doing?" Chu Rong gave a small start. Both jade-pale palms pressed against Ning Yuan's chest, his head tilting back to glare up at the man: "Put me down."

He didn't like people touching him. Even the white shadow, after four months together, hadn't earned much warmth from him. And he was meeting this man for the very first time.

Even if this man really was Ning Yuan — that still wouldn't do.

The red flush at the tails of Chu Rong's eyes had not fully faded. That glare carried not a shred of menace — rather, with the play of light in his gaze, he looked like a water-sprite, bewitching and soul-stealing.

Ning Yuan's breath sank again. His deep, unfathomable black eyes met those of the person in his arms without a ripple. He tilted his body forward, setting Chu Rong back down on the bed, letting him sit at the bed's edge.

Chu Rong's body still felt a little weak. He gripped the bed's edge to steady himself — and watched as the man's long, firm legs bent, and his imposingly tall frame crouched down at the bedside.

Chu Rong didn't know what Ning Yuan intended to do. His jade-pale fingertips curled slightly and he tensed, starting to shift away — but from beneath the hem of his clothing, a faint, dull ache made itself known.

Chu Rong's back stiffened. In the next instant, Ning Yuan's warm, strong large hand closed around his pale, slender ankle.

One hand cupping the ankle, one hand cradling the sole of the foot, he settled Chu Rong's foot on his firmly-muscled leg, letting the pink sole rest against him.

The man's brow ridges were as though carved, his brows dense and dark — like a stroke of a brush dipped in heavy ink drawn across his brow. Those hands that could shatter heaven and earth with a turn were now picking up the white boots from beneath the bed and carefully helping Chu Rong put them on.

Chu Rong froze. He didn't quite know what expression to make, and the oddness he'd noticed beneath his clothing was momentarily pushed from his mind.

By the time Chu Rong came back to himself, both boots had been put on his feet. Ning Yuan had even cast a Dust-Cleansing Technique, removing the dirt from the soles and making the white boots spotless and clean as new.

Chu Rong drew his feet back and stepped away from the bed quickly. His eyes swept the table out of the corner of his eye — and he stopped abruptly.

Ning Yuan was a cultivator with no need for food. For whom these meals had been prepared — that went without saying.

A flicker of complex emotion crossed Chu Rong's eyes. He turned to face the man for the first time and looked properly at him. The man's features were extraordinarily three-dimensional, his contours sculpted clearly — flawlessly handsome. His appearance surpassed even the description of the several male lead attackers in the original text, and the original host was, of course, without comparison.

Such a face — it was doubtful whether one could find a second like it anywhere in the cultivation world. Chu Rong had no choice but to believe that the man before him was the Ning Yuan whose only appearance in the original text had been his name.

If it really was Ning Yuan — then perhaps there truly was a third method to dispel the Spring Entanglement.

Chu Rong didn't know why Ning Yuan behaved this way toward him, but Ning Yuan was the ceiling of combat power in the entire story. Even by the end of the plot, the protagonist Cen Yan had never surpassed him. And he was nothing but a mortal — to make an enemy of Ning Yuan would be no different from seeking his own death.

Besides, Ning Yuan had genuinely saved his life.

Before his consciousness slipped away, Chu Rong had not forgotten — he had seen Xu Ziyang at the hot spring in the rear mountain. Had Ning Yuan not appeared in time, he might well have been seized by Xu Ziyang again. What would have awaited him then — he didn't need to think about it to know.

Chu Rong was not ungrateful. He could see clearly that whether it was the white shadow or Ning Yuan himself, neither of them seemed to bear him any ill will.

Chu Rong bent slightly in a bow, and with genuine sincerity, thanked Ning Yuan: "Thank you, Senior."

Ning Yuan watched him from across the distance. The emotion in his eyes was unreadable. The hand hanging at his side moved imperceptibly — his fingertips seeming to still retain the lustrous, delicate texture of Chu Rong's sole.

Ning Yuan made no attempt to correct Chu Rong's form of address. He raised his hand to recall the white shadow at the bedside back into his body, then glanced sideways at the food on the table — the meaning self-evident.

During the time the drug had held him, Chu Rong hadn't eaten a single bite. His stomach was completely empty — yet whether from having gone too long without food, he found he had no appetite at the moment.

But Chu Rong still complied and sat down at the table. He lifted his long, fine lashes, looking at the man who had left but then reappeared, and a thought quickly flashed through his mind — recalling Xu Ziyang's earlier mention that the immortal sects would be coming to Qingyang Heavenly Sect to offer support.

Chu Rong's breathing softened. His heartbeat quickened slightly without his realizing: "Senior, has the sect's Mountain-Guarding Grand Formation been opened yet?"

At the main peak.

In the main hall, Lian Ci, He Ming, and Cen Yan surrounded the barely-breathing Xu Ziyang, channeling what little of their spiritual energy had recovered to try to treat his injuries.

But every time spiritual energy entered Xu Ziyang's body, it was bounced straight back out.

"What's happening?" Lian Ci was shocked and alarmed. Why were they unable to heal Ziyang?

The immortal sect members in the hall looked away with studious indifference, none of them venturing a word. Only Yun Tan lowered his head slightly, and let out a single compassionate sigh: "Please, everyone, save your effort — Fellow Daoist Xu has a restriction placed in his body. No one can treat him."

A restriction?

The Mountain-Guarding Grand Formation had only been opened less than a day ago — who could Ziyang have offended?

No.

The three of them exchanged a glance, and simultaneously thought of the same person: Immortal Venerate Ning Yuan!

In heaven's name, where had Ziyang managed to offend the Immortal Venerate — for the Immortal Venerate to go to such extremes to torment him? Shattering every tendon and bone in his body, ripping out his golden core alive — that wasn't enough. A restriction had to be placed as well, blocking any possibility of treatment.

Wasn't this just wanting Ziyang to die of pain, or to die in the extremity of suffering and torment?

"Is that truly so?" The three of them turned to look at Jing Heng.

Jing Heng's medical skills were peerless, and he had seen it from the start: "Holy Son Yun's words are not false. The restriction within Fellow Daoist Xu is extremely powerful — medicine and herbs are of no avail."

Lian Ci looked toward him with a desperate hope: "Valley Master Jing — you also cannot help? As long as the Valley Master can save Ziyang, whatever the Valley Master desires, as long as the sect possesses it, we will offer it with both hands!"

Jing Heng's heart stirred. A devastatingly beautiful face surfaced in his mind — but looking at Xu Ziyang with only a breath of life left in him, he still shook his head.

It was well known to all that to break a restriction, one of two things was required: either the person who set it removed it themselves, or someone of equal cultivation level broke it by force.

The Immortal Venerate was the only Great Vehicle stage cultivator in the cultivation world. Who among those present could break his restriction?

Lian Ci's face turned ashen. Despair showed plainly across his features. If Xu Ziyang died, Qingyang Heavenly Sect would suffer a catastrophic blow, and any hope of the sect maintaining a position among the immortal sects would become even more impossible.

Lian Ci gripped his fists. In his despair, his thoughts paradoxically became clear.

No, wait.

The Immortal Venerate's cultivation was unfathomably deep. If he wanted to kill Ziyang, why go to so much trouble?

The Immortal Venerate had been willing to come help Qingyang and to suppress and contain the baleful energy on the sect's behalf — which showed that he bore no original ill will toward Qingyang. For him to strike Ziyang this heavily, so suddenly, and with such near-cruel means — it simply didn't add up.

Unless Ziyang had truly offended the Immortal Venerate somewhere, and the offense was not small.

Lian Ci clenched his jaw. His complexion turned red, his eyes blazing with fury. His gaze fixed like a nail on Cen Yan and Pei Zhan: "The Immortal Venerate is not one to kill the innocent indiscriminately. You came back to the main hall with Ziyang. Tell me honestly — what exactly happened before this?!"

Pei Zhan's gilded pupils flickered. A name surfaced in his mind first — but it seemed somewhat unlikely: "I happened to return to the main hall at the same time as Senior Brother. As for what Senior Brother did, I don't know…"

"Chu Rong." Cen Yan's lips moved slightly. He cut Pei Zhan off: "The Immortal Venerate's severe injury of Senior Brother may be related to Chu Rong."

He Ting's expression shifted faintly, his smile remaining as he looked toward Cen Yan.

Nan Xingye turned his head and looked at Cen Yan, his sharp brow furrowing slightly.

Jing Heng's cold, eerie eyes narrowed as his gaze went to Cen Yan.

The immortal sect members in the hall looked at each other, completely at a loss. Who was Chu Rong?