Chapter Eighty One

Ning Yuan's chest heaved sharply. The large hands holding the person in his arms trembled beyond his control. His roughened voice could not conceal the lingering terror: "How is it? Are you hurt anywhere?"

Chú Róng looked at the reddened outer corners of the man's eyes. His heart gave a faint shudder. He raised jade-like fingertips to touch Ning Yuan's face, shook his head gently, the orchid fragrance that surrounded him drifting lightly: "I'm fine. Don't worry."

The Heavenly Dao hadn't meant to make things difficult for him. On the contrary — Chú Róng could feel that the force sealing his cinnabar field was already gone, and all of his spiritual energy had been fully restored.

Ning Yuan opened his hand and covered the fingertips resting on his face, turning his head to press a kiss to Chú Róng's palm: "There won't be a next time."

He would never let Chú Róng leave his sight again.

Never.

The center of Chú Róng's palm went warm. His fingertips curled in instinctively.

"Ahem." A quiet cough cut through the tender moment in the alley. The white mist floating overhead billowed and churned twice, and the Heavenly Dao's aged voice drifted from within: "This one still has words to say to Chú Róng."

Chú Róng's body went slightly rigid. Only then did he remember the Heavenly Dao was still there. He pulled his fingers back and gave Ning Yuan two light pushes, gesturing for the man to release him.

Ning Yuan set him down and let his toes meet the ground, but he did not loosen his hold. His arms still wrapped around him, holding him tightly, his sharp jaw resting against Chú Róng's temple. All Chú Róng could breathe in was the man's pervasive, invasive scent.

Chú Róng pressed his lips together in faint discomfort, but ultimately didn't push him away again. He tilted his head toward the sky, black hair trailing like flowing clouds around him: "What does Senior wish to say?"

The Heavenly Dao spoke at a leisurely pace: "To see you once more — this one can count it as setting down one last burden. This one knows you wish for the dragon breath. Take it."

Chú Róng's lashes trembled slightly. A flicker of surprise crossed his beguiling eyes. The Heavenly Dao would give him the dragon breath this easily?

In the next instant, he heard the Heavenly Dao's tone shift sharply: "However, you must agree to one condition of this one's."

"What condition?" Chú Róng furrowed his brow slightly, though he didn't feel much surprise in his heart. After all, there was no such thing as a free meal — let alone when something as precious as dragon breath was involved.

Ning Yuan's gaze darkened. A cold light swept through the depths of his eyes, still as a deep pool.

Sensing Ning Yuan's killing intent, the Heavenly Dao seemed to catch in its throat for a moment before continuing: "Suppress the evil energy until a new Heavenly Dao emerges."

Ten years, a hundred years — either was possible.

That was a very different proposition from what had been said just now.

Chú Róng's eyes curved upward at the corners. He looked at the white mist with a contemplative expression: "The real reason you summoned me back — could it possibly be just to have me working for you again?"

He had already returned to his original world. How was it that he still couldn't escape the fate of being a workhorse?

The Heavenly Dao had never heard the term "working," but could roughly grasp Chú Róng's meaning. It was silent for a moment, then no longer held anything back: "In truth, the person this one intended to take on the task of suppressing the evil energy was not you."

Not him?

Chú Róng narrowed his eyes slightly, his mind moving quickly. A name surfaced in his thoughts in short order: "Senior means — Cen Yan?"

"Nothing gets past you." The Heavenly Dao was fond of speaking with clever people — it saved time and effort: "However, he is no longer suitable."

"In what way is he unsuitable?" The things Cen Yan had done before — Chú Róng held no goodwill toward him, there was no doubt about that. But setting personal grievances aside, Cen Yan's character was reasonably sound — at the very least, it ranked among the top echelons of the cultivation world. And his innate gifts were beyond question, a standout even among the Hundred Immortal Sects.

The Heavenly Dao did not respond in words. The white mist churned several times, and two white threads of condensed spiritual energy appeared out of thin air, extending and stretching, reaching outward in a single direction.

A breath or two later, Chú Róng watched as the threads wound around Cen Yan's arms, disregarding his struggling, and dragged him into the air above the alley.

"Chú Róng?" Seeing clearly who stood below, Cen Yan's struggling stilled. Through the anger tangled across his face, a trace of worried urgency surfaced: "Run! This thing is extremely sinister — even I can't——"

The two threads lengthened, probing into the meridians of Cen Yan's arms. No one could tell what they were doing — but Cen Yan's words cut off abruptly. His upright body went suddenly rigid, his head snapping back, a howl of agony tearing from his throat.

His features contorted. The ominous purple light in his eyes blazed brighter, flooding across the entirety of both eye sockets.

"Senior, this is……?" Chú Róng happened to meet the young man's eyes in the sky above — eyes blazing with purple light — and the words he'd been about to say were swallowed halfway.

That was the spiritual awareness of a demonic beast?!

In the original novel, there had been a detailed description of how a demonic beast's spiritual awareness had run amok within Péi Zhàn's body. Chú Róng recognized it at a single glance. But — how had a demonic beast's spiritual awareness come to be inside Cen Yan?

No wonder the Heavenly Dao said Cen Yan was unsuitable. By the look of him, Cen Yan was one step away from falling entirely into demonic possession.

Chú Róng deliberated for a long moment, then nodded his head in agreement: "All right. I accept Senior's condition."

The Heavenly Dao had worked so painstakingly to help him return — he owed the Heavenly Dao a tremendous debt of gratitude. Both on principle and for personal reasons, he had no grounds to refuse.

Ning Yuan's sharp brow gave a slight twitch. He did not, however, move to stop Chú Róng.

"Very well. The dragon breath is yours to take. The place where the evil energy is sealed is at Tiānyázhī — I leave it all in your hands, Chú Róng." The Heavenly Dao was as good as its word. The moment it finished speaking, the dragon breath floating in the air released Cen Yan, letting the young man drop straight to the ground and crumple into unconsciousness.

The white mist gradually shrank, condensing into a palm-sized mass of solid cloud that drifted toward Chú Róng — while the Heavenly Dao's spiritual awareness dissolved into countless tiny points of white light and dispersed into the secret realm.

"Very well." Chú Róng watched the Heavenly Dao dissolve away with a complicated expression. He held out his hand and caught the dragon breath. In the same moment, the Soul-Capturing Bell and all the other spiritual tools that had vanished from his person returned to him all at once.

A look of faint surprise crossed Chú Róng's pale jade face. He took out a storage spiritual tool and moved to place the dragon breath inside it. Then a shudder ran through the secret realm.

Chú Róng instinctively looked at Ning Yuan, the meaning in his glance unmistakable: "Was this you again?"

Ning Yuan tilted his head slightly and glanced toward the direction the disturbance had come from: "No. A cultivator has advanced in cultivation."

The secret realm was full of fortuitous opportunities. Someone breaking through a barrier was perfectly ordinary.

Chú Róng's mind stirred. The dragon breath was in hand, and the spiritual energy inside the secret realm was both pure and abundant — was this not the ideal place to break through a cultivation stage?

"Wait——" Reading his thoughts, the man's large, knuckle-defined hand suddenly seized Chú Róng's pale wrist: "Nascent Soul is nothing like Golden Core. To break through to Nascent Soul, one needs the right moment, the right place, and the right conditions — none of them can be……"

Before the words were even out, a ring of lustrous radiance spilled from within Chú Róng's body — like moonlight pouring down, enveloping his entire form — faintly carrying the first stirrings of Nascent Soul energy.

This was the sign of a breakthrough!

Chú Róng's moment to break through to Nascent Soul had arrived at exactly the moment it was spoken of!

Nascent Soul was the most critical juncture in the entire path of cultivation. The right moment for the breakthrough came rarely and without warning. Once a cultivator encountered it, even at the threshold of life and death, they had to stop and begin cultivating.

"Am I breaking through to Nascent Soul?" With the memories of his past life now returned to him, Chú Róng quickly understood what the light radiating from his body meant.

"Yes." Ning Yuan's expression was more grave than it had ever been. He surveyed his surroundings, located a secluded and clean spot, laid down layer upon layer of restriction seals and barriers, and spoke in a heavy voice: "Róng Róng — Nascent Soul is nothing like Golden Core. Once you begin, you cannot stop partway through. Either you form the infant — or you die."

And this time, he could do nothing to help. Chú Róng would have to make it through by sheer force of his own will and comprehension.

Especially now, when Ning Yuan had assumed there was still time before Chú Róng would break through, and the spiritual tools needed for the breakthrough were still being prepared.

"I know." Whether from the original novel or from his own past memories, Chú Róng knew full well how difficult breaking through to Nascent Soul was. He was mentally prepared — but he didn't believe he was going to fail.

"Trust me." Chú Róng reached back and held the man's hand in return. He broke into a smile directed at him, the corners of his eyes and brows all curving upward, making him look like a soul-ensnaring fox spirit — devastatingly, breathtakingly beautiful.

Ning Yuan's breath stalled. His gaze went straight and did not waver.

Worry, elation, and a bone-deep wonder at the sight before him rose from the base of his spine and spread rapidly through every limb, making even his soul tremble and shake without cease.

Ning Yuan spread his strong, long arms and pulled the person before him into his embrace once more, holding Chú Róng tight.

Chú Róng's eyes shifted. His lips parted slightly. He was about to say something more — but the man lowered his head and kissed him, urgent and fierce, with a force more overwhelming than anything before.

Stripping away the skin of patience and restraint and baring the most naked, unguarded longing beneath — pressing forward, step by step, consuming every last breath Chú Róng had, and drawing out every trace of the rich orchid fragrance clinging to him.

Chú Róng could not bear it. He whimpered and tried to push the man away — but was only gripped tighter by the waist, pressed down into his arms, so firmly that even his toes were lifting off the ground.

The urgent, surging claiming left Chú Róng at a complete loss. In his disoriented panic, he threw his arms around the man's neck, barely managing to receive Ning Yuan's overwhelming force.

After an unknowable length of time — as the light emanating from Chú Róng's body grew brighter and brighter — Ning Yuan finally released him, slowly withdrawing from the swollen, reddened lips of the person in his arms.

The corners of Chú Róng's lips were a deep crimson. His lips were soaked and damp. He barely managed to catch a breath, his long, slender arms draped over the man's broad shoulders, his snow-white slender wrists trembling, not yet recovered — when both sides of his face were cupped by a pair of familiar large hands.

Ning Yuan tilted his head down, the tip of his nose brushing against the peach-blossom-flushed cheek, his voice low and darkened: "Róng Róng. Remember — I am waiting for you."

Chú Róng breathed heavily, both cheeks flushed, his hands and feet numb, his vision hazy. He heard the man's words clearly, and slowly raised his head.

"I know." Chú Róng gave a small nod. His eyes were misted over, the vivid crimson at the outer corners striking and captivating. The tone of his voice carried an intimacy he himself hadn't noticed.

Ning Yuan caught it. A wave of scorching warmth spread through his chest. He barely suppressed the restless feeling inside him, leaned in to peck a kiss to the corner of his eye, and stepped back outside the barrier.

……

Cen Yan came back to himself through the waves of agonizing pain. The two figures were already nowhere to be seen around him. The dragon breath in the sky above had vanished as well.

Clutching his wrists, he staggered to his feet. He had barely begun to think of going to search for Chú Róng when a powerful pressure suddenly permeated the air around him.

Cen Yan's vision darkened. His back bent under the force of it as though physically shoved, nearly pitching him back to the ground.

This aura……?

Cen Yan's eyes widened in shock. How could it feel so much like Nascent Soul? Was there a Nascent Soul great cultivator nearby?!

Who?

As far as he knew, the cultivation world had only two Nascent Soul cultivators. One was Grand Master Kōng Wèn — who had long since ceased to involve himself in worldly affairs and no longer left his temple. The other was in Qīngxū Sect. Could it be someone from Qīngxū Sect?

Sure enough — the Dragon Vein Ancient Land held limitless resources. Of course Qīngxū Sect would not have missed it. When he had arrived, Qīngxū Sect had no doubt already been inside the secret realm for some time. The dragon breath had most likely fallen into their hands as well.

Outnumbered and outmatched, the situation was not in his favor. He had to get Chú Róng out as quickly as possible. Cen Yan thought it through, then set off searching in the direction opposite the pressure.

He had no idea whatsoever that not far from where he stood, the devastatingly beautiful young man he was looking for sat cross-legged on the ground. Spiritual energy raged around him, and the spiritual energy of the entire secret realm was rushing toward him in a mad torrent.

And above the young man's head, a thumb-joint-tall nascent infant — delicate and jade-like as carved snow — was condensing, little by little.

Three hours.

Five hours.

Ten hours.

……

As time passed, the nascent infant fully formed into a tangible, solid figure. It sat cross-legged just as Chú Róng did, its features and bearing a perfect miniature of Chú Róng himself — even dressed in the exact same robes.

Ning Yuan, standing outside the barrier, stilled. His gaze fixed on the scene and did not move.

The nascent infant was complete.