Chapter Seventy-One

Two elders stepped forward, bound Zhù Guānwēi with spiritual power, and hauled her off the Spirit Canal by force.

Yún Sōng stood outside the palace, watching Jìn Tuò and his party depart, waiting for the summons from within.

Inside the palace.

Chú Róng, oblivious to everything, lay cradled in the man's arms. His ink-black hair — like dark lotus petals — spilled loosely around him. His thick lashes lay low, casting a row of curved shadows beneath his eyes.

About half an hour passed. Then his slender brows suddenly drew tight, his bloodless lips parted slightly, and a stifled moan of pain escaped from between them.

The offspring gu inside him was reacting.

Ning Yuan seized the moment. With swift precision, he sealed the meridians throughout the body in his arms, cutting off the offspring gu's avenues of escape, and drove it step by step toward Chú Róng's right arm. He lifted the sleeve that flowed like water, exposing a forearm as smooth and fine as porcelain.

When he saw the gu worm writhing and squirming beneath the snow-white skin, Ning Yuan pressed his five long, powerful fingers together, condensed his spiritual energy into a blade, and drew a cut across Chú Róng's forearm.

"Mmh—!" The unconscious man let out another involuntary moan of pain, crystal-fine beads of sweat rising on his pale brow.

Ning Yuan lowered his head and pressed a soothing kiss to his forehead. His voice, smooth as polished jade, dropped to a murmur filled with coaxing warmth: "It'll be over soon."

Drip, drip, drip—

Crimson blood trickled down the skin like a vivid little serpent. The panicked gu worm burst — with a soft, wet sound — from the cut, and tumbled down below the jade couch.

The offspring gu looked much like its mother: boneless as a leech, with vivid markings along its back, though its body was less bloated than the mother gu's.

Ning Yuan restrained the offspring gu with his spiritual power, then raised a palm and struck — with a crack, the offspring gu burst apart, dissolving into a puddle of bloody froth.

A faint metallic scent spread through the hall, mingling with the rich, quiet fragrance of orchids. Ning Yuan released his spiritual power, drew his long arms back, and pulled the person in his embrace closer. He leaned forward and laid Chú Róng back down on the jade couch, then took out white gauze to bandage the wound.

Once the bleeding had stopped, Ning Yuan set down the slender wrist in his hand and summoned Yún Sōng into the hall.

Yún Sōng suppressed the full force of his fury, entered with a bow, and walked to the jade couch to take Chú Róng's pulse once more: "Reporting to the Immortal Venerable — the offspring gu has been removed from the young master's body. The antidote for the accumulated toxins within him requires some medicinal ingredients; these have been largely gathered and will be sent to Wangxian Peak shortly."

"Approved." Ning Yuan gave a slight wave of his hand, indicating that Yún Sōng should withdraw.

Yún Sōng accepted the order respectfully. As he withdrew from the hall, he looked back and cast a lingering gaze toward the couch, his eyes full of tender concern.

The sound of footsteps outside the hall gradually faded into the distance, and quiet settled over the palace again. Then the jade-pale fingers resting on the jade couch gave a faint twitch. Ning Yuan's tall figure paused, and he lowered his gaze to the person on the couch.

The young man's butterfly-wing lashes fluttered, and his eyes opened little by little. Within those glistening eyes drifted a haze of confusion, and the faint flush of red at their corners stirred the heart.

Chú Róng's mind was a blur. The images from just before he lost consciousness flooded back all at once, making his head swim even further.

He instinctively raised a hand to rub his temples, but a sharp pain stabbed without warning through his right forearm, forcing a sharp intake of breath from him.

"What happened to me…?" Chú Róng frowned slightly. On reflex, he raised his left hand to pull back the sleeve on his right arm, wanting to see what had occurred.

No sooner had his hand stretched out than a large, clearly-jointed hand caught his fingers, enfolding his cool, translucent fingertips snugly within the warmth of a palm: "Don't move. The wound was just bandaged."

Only then did Chú Róng notice the man sitting at the edge of the jade couch — who else but Ning Yuan?

"What wound?" Chú Róng raised his lashes. A flicker of bewilderment crossed his jade-like face. He remembered — had he not been at the estate, confronting Zhù Guānwēi?

How was it that when he woke — Chú Róng pulled his hand free and propped himself up with one arm, tilting his head to look at the familiar palace around him — he was back at Qīngxū Sect?

He had been unconscious for nearly a full day and night. When he spoke, his voice was still faintly weak, the tail of each word carrying a hollow, drifting quality that could not help but stir a feeling of pity in the listener.

A ripple passed through the still-pool depths of Ning Yuan's gaze. He opened his long arms and drew Chú Róng into his embrace, settling him against the broad expanse of his chest, then told him everything about the removal of the offspring gu, leaving nothing out.

Chú Róng lowered his gaze to the bloody froth on the jade floor. His eyes shifted slightly. He quickly turned his attention inward, carefully sensing the changes within his body — his limbs were still somewhat weak, yet the feeling of something alive moving inside him was gone. A lightness suffused his entire being.

Chú Róng was at last certain: the festering threat that had taken up residence in his body was truly gone. From now on, nothing would threaten his life.

His life was, from this moment on, genuinely and entirely in his own hands.

Since transmigrating into this novel, it was the first time Chú Róng had felt truly settled within his heart. He tilted his face upward, the corner of his lips curving slightly, a smile spreading across his striking face — and in an instant, a dazzling brilliance rushed toward Ning Yuan like a wave, nearly making his eyes swim: "Thank you."

It was true that Chú Róng had previously resisted the man's closeness.

It was true that Ning Yuan's repeated kisses had frightened him.

But it was equally true that Ning Yuan had had Yún Sōng examine him, had eliminated the mother gu for him, had removed the offspring gu for him — and had preserved the life he valued above all else.

Chú Róng was not an ungrateful person. This time, it was thanks entirely to Ning Yuan, and it was not too much to call the man his lifesaver.

Ning Yuan's breath caught. He was struck utterly still, entranced, and before he could stop himself, he leaned down and pressed his lips to the smiling mouth of the person in his arms.

Chú Róng's supple body stiffened by reflex, his fingers curling tight within his sleeves. But in the next moment, remembering what the man had done for him, he let his fingers slowly uncurl. His beautiful lips parted gradually, releasing a faint, enchanting breath like orchid blossoms, welcoming the man inside of his own accord.

The depths of Ning Yuan's eyes darkened abruptly, a thunderous surge crashing through them. The large hand at Chú Róng's waist and back moved upward to cradle the back of his head, and in one sweep plunged deep into the warm, wet cavern of his mouth.

Chú Róng's slender neck arched back. His feather-light lashes trembled uncontrollably. Clear, glistening threads of saliva spilled continuously from the reddened corners of his lips.

"Wait… wait a moment…" Something came to mind. Chú Róng spread his left hand flat against the man's firm chest and pushed outward with force, his head also turning away, trying to escape Ning Yuan's siege.

Ning Yuan knew what he wanted to ask. He refused to allow the slightest escape, seized control of his head, kept Chú Róng from moving, and pushed even deeper in his advance: "Don't worry. I've already had Jìn Tuò deliver the recording stone and Zhù Guānwēi to the Hundred Immortal Sects for their judgment."

That quickly?

He had not yet had the chance to do a thing, and Ning Yuan had already done it all for him.

"You…" Chú Róng still wanted to say another word of thanks, but his throat was completely occupied — he could make no sound. His mouth was entirely filled with the man's presence.

……

Chú Róng's mind, which had only recently recovered, quickly sank into a fog again.

When the man finally withdrew from his mouth, his eyes were hazy and veiled in mist. His chest heaved violently. His swollen lips fell open, his breathing rapid and disordered. The overwhelming sense of suffocation was so strong that even moving a finger made his head swim with dizziness.

Ning Yuan held him, steadying his breathing: "Do you want to rest a little longer?"

Chú Róng's head was spinning terribly. He closed his eyes and gave a weak sound of assent.

So much had happened in these recent days, and his nerves had been strung taut the entire time. Now, knowing that his life was no longer under threat, the taut string of his composure eased, and he slipped quickly into deep sleep.

Ning Yuan gently laid him back down on the couch, picked up the Soul-Capturing Bell with his long fingers, and fastened it back onto the silk cord at Chú Róng's waist. Then he drew the snow-silkworm velvet blanket over him.

At that moment, Yún Sōng returned from outside the hall, bringing several disciples carrying chest after chest of medicinal ingredients. He bowed and requested permission: "Immortal Venerable, the medicines have arrived."

Ning Yuan set a restriction seal around the jade couch, blocking out any noise from outside, and said without looking up: "Bring them in."

Yún Sōng and his party accepted the order and carried the medicines into the hall.

The faint, drifting fragrance of orchids hung in the air. One of the disciples, smelling it for the first time, drew two deep, long breaths and found himself unable to keep his composure — the corner of his gaze drifted helplessly toward the jade couch.

The instant a pair of pure white boots came into the edge of his vision, Yún Sōng's voice was already at his ear, lowered to a sharp reprimand: "Don't look around!"

The disciples started in fright. They hastily averted their eyes, set down the medicines they carried, and respectfully withdrew from Wangxian Peak.

Midway down the path, they encountered Inner Door Steward Wū Lǐ leading a group of sect disciples coming the other way. Each disciple carried something different — garments, accessories, robes, jade pendants, hair crowns, belts, white boots… all crafted with extraordinary finesse, each piece gleaming softly with an inner light that bespoke its exceptional value at a glance.

Without needing to guess, Yún Sōng knew who all of this had been prepared for. The smile at the corner of his mouth could not help but widen.

Wū Lǐ turned slightly, casting a puzzled glance at him, then led his party past and continued up to the peak, where he announced their arrival with meticulous formality.

Once given permission, Wū Lǐ guided the disciples in presenting all the items inside the hall. Upon catching the orchid fragrance within, he gave an almost imperceptible pause.

When had Wangxian Peak become so fragrant?

Before Wū Lǐ could trace the source of the scent, Ning Yuan's low, cold voice reached his ears, dismissing them: "Leave."

Wū Lǐ quickly composed himself and withdrew with the attendant disciples.

In the blink of an eye, the palace that had once been empty and austere was now filled to brimming with medicines and fineries, a dazzling array before the eye.

—

Chú Róng slept very deeply. When he woke, it was already deep into the night.

The palace was brightly lit throughout. All the medicinal ingredients in the hall had had their properties drawn out; they had been taken back by Yún Sōng, decocted into medicine, and returned to Wangxian Peak. The air carried a faint smell of herbs.

Ning Yuan had remained seated at the edge of the couch the entire time. Noticing Chú Róng waking, he helped him sit up, settled him against his chest, and reaching out, lifted the bowl of medicine from the side table. He scooped a spoonful with the ladle and brought it to Chú Róng's lips.

The strong smell of medicine hit him head-on. Chú Róng had never been fond of taking medicine, and felt little inclination to open his mouth. He asked quietly: "What medicine is this?"

"An antidote to clear the accumulated toxins in your body." Ning Yuan explained. The hand holding the medicine ladle was steady as a mountain.

Chú Róng had not forgotten what Yún Sōng had said — even after the offspring gu was removed, the accumulated toxins remained, and too much of them could still endanger his life.

No matter how much he disliked the taste of medicine, Chú Róng never played games with his own body. He gazed at the pitch-black liquid, pressed his lips slightly together, drew a deep breath, and parted them to drink.

Ning Yuan took in every reaction of the person in his arms. A trace of a smile — barely perceptible — flowed through his deep, dark eyes, and he patiently ladled spoonful after spoonful to feed him.

Chú Róng's lashes drooped as he leaned against the man's chest, drinking the medicine spoonful by spoonful — uncharacteristically, and somewhat endearingly, docile.

When the bowl was emptied, the taste of medicine saturated his lips and teeth entirely. The thick, bitter smell drove straight up through him, making him feel like he did not even want to speak.

Chú Róng raised a hand, braced it against the man's firm arm, and moved to climb down from the couch — wanting to drink some water to drive away the taste in his mouth. Then a sweet-scented sugar cake was offered to his lips.

Chú Róng blinked, slightly startled, and turned his head to look at the man behind him with a wondering gaze.

Ning Yuan met his gaze with a composed expression, his chiselled features as handsome as a deity's: "It's very sweet. Try it."

Ning Yuan had abstained from mortal food for hundreds of years. One look at the sugar cake and it was plain it had been prepared especially for him.

A feeling Chú Róng could neither name nor explain stirred somewhere deep within his heart. He lowered his lashes, parted his lips, and bit into one corner of the sugar cake.

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Sorry for the long wait~