Chapter Eighty One

"Mm——"

How could he swallow something like this? Chú Róng furrowed his brow, trying to push out the foreign substance with his tongue, but his lips and teeth were thoroughly blocked.

His mind was in complete chaos, but he had still heard the man's words clearly.

"No." Every nerve in Chú Róng's body pulled taut in an instant. He raised his limp hand and pressed it against Ning Yuan's broad chest, turning his head, dodging the man's breath. His swollen, reddened lips opened and closed, and thin, gleaming trails of saliva slid down from the flushed corners of his lips.

Obscenely beautiful.

Enticing.

Maddening.

Ning Yuan chased the orchid fragrance in his mouth, pressing one kiss after another to his damp lips. His long black hair slipped from his broad shoulders and cast a faint, dusky shadow across his god-like features. His voice was darkened and low: "Róng Róng isn't willing?"

Chú Róng looked up at the man above him through misty, haze-filled eyes. His porcelain-white cheeks were covered in flush. His clothes were open and disheveled, exposing pale white skin — covered all over in vivid red marks.

"N— no." Chú Róng spread his slender arms and wrapped them around Ning Yuan's neck. His gaze drifted evasively, not daring to meet the man's eyes: "I just…… I'm not ready."

Chú Róng was genuinely a stranger to romantic feeling.

Although he had already stopped rejecting Ning Yuan's physical closeness, asking him to accept a man — to fully merge with a man — all at once was still asking a great deal.

Psychologically, he couldn't quite accept it yet either.

Ning Yuan's gaze darkened. The large hand wrapped around the person in his arms clenched suddenly tighter. The veins on the back of his hand pulsed. The blood through his whole body surged and blazed. The supple sensation in his palm and the rich orchid fragrance at the tip of his nose battered against the walls of his reason wave after wave, challenging every last thread of his self-control.

He was at Mahayana. With his ability, he was perfectly capable of holding the person in his arms down by force, using ten thousand different methods to make the person in his arms bear him endlessly.

But……

Ning Yuan closed his eyes slightly. The outer corners of his sharp-featured eyes were faintly, visibly tinged with red — suffused with suppression and restraint. For a long while, with something like unwillingness, something like concession, he opened his hand, cradled Chú Róng's head in his palm, leaned in, and covered Chú Róng's lips in one fierce, claiming kiss.

"All right. I won't force you." He was willing to wait for the day Chú Róng would come to him of his own free will.

Chú Róng's moisture-drenched lashes trembled lightly. A ripple stirred through the depths of his eyes. The taut nerves in his body relaxed. He tilted his head up slightly and actively moved to meet the man's invasion.

……

On the jade couch, orchid fragrance drifted in a languid haze.

Ning Yuan kept his word and did not cross the line — but Chú Róng didn't exactly come away unscathed. For several days in a row, he never left the jade couch.

By the time the massive spiritual vessel was sailing into Qīngxū Sect's territory, Chú Róng lay sprawled on his back on the couch with his robes open and loose, his skin exposed, pale jade flesh covered all over in the red marks the man had left.

His entire body, from head to toe, had hardly been spared. Even the pale tops of his feet bore two small tooth marks.

"Enough — enough." Chú Róng lay with his neck arched back, feebly trying to push at the large, heavy body on top of him. Teardrops clung to his lashes — like dewdrops suspended on flower petals, ready to fall at the slightest touch.

Ning Yuan's frame paused. With something like dissatisfaction, he gave the damp lips one final light bite before withdrawing from between Chú Róng's barely-parted lips.

Ning Yuan himself was not much better off than Chú Róng. His usually impeccable snow-white robes were disordered and open, baring a large expanse of solid, muscular chest. The skin of his neck was flushed, making the prominent veins along the sides of his neck stand out even more distinctly.

Looking down at the person beneath him, his eyes were dark and unfathomable, the churning waves within them vast and overwhelming — enough to fill anyone who looked upon them with dread. Like a god fallen into the mortal world, body steeped in desires it could not let go — and yet it didn't frighten; it was, unexpectedly, intensely sensual and compelling.

Chú Róng's luminous eyes flickered. He suddenly found he could not quite look directly at the man before him.

Out on the Spirit Canal, Jìn Tuò had received the news relayed by the Second Elder and had already led the sect's disciples to the mountain gate to welcome them back.

Catching sight of the Spirit Canal entering Qīngxū Sect from far away, Jìn Tuò's face broke into a smile. He gave a deep bow toward the sky: "Tuò respectfully welcomes the Immortal Venerable and the Young Master back to the sect!"

The accompanying disciples likewise gave a uniform salute: "We respectfully welcome the Immortal Venerable and the Young Master back to the sect!"

The resonant voices rang up to the heavens. Chú Róng came back to himself and gave the man before him another push.

Ning Yuan tilted his head to glance outside the hall, then drew Chú Róng's shoulder and back into his embrace, lifted him entirely, bent his fingers to gently wipe away the moisture at the corners of Chú Róng's eyes, bowed his head to press a light kiss to his deeply reddened lips, and carefully helped him straighten his disheveled clothing.

Once dressed and presentable, under everyone's blazing, ardent gazes, the two figures walked out of the palace side by side.

The moment they saw the young man at Ning Yuan's side clearly, everyone's breath caught. They stood rooted in place, all response gone, every expression blank — even the disciples who had seen him once before were not spared.

Sensing everyone's stares, Chú Róng felt a flicker of discomfort rise on his face. He quietly drew a breath, and only barely managed to steady himself.

Chú Róng took out the dragon breath, separated three strands from it, and floated the rest on a current of spiritual energy over to Jìn Tuò: "As agreed — this dragon breath belongs to Qīngxū Sect."

The spiritual energy within the dragon breath was rich and pure. Even without drawing it in, Jìn Tuò could sense the immense power contained within it.

Jìn Tuò's expression was deeply moved. He spread both hands and accepted the dragon breath with careful reverence — but did not put it away: "No — the young master was the one who obtained the dragon breath. The young master should at minimum keep half of it. Otherwise, all of Qīngxū Sect will have received too much to be at ease with."

"There is no need." The words had already been said. Chú Róng would keep to them.

This——

Seeing Chú Róng's resolve, Jìn Tuò hesitated for a moment and then carefully put away the dragon breath. Very well — he would hold onto it for the young master for now. When the young master needed it in the future, he would bring it out for him.

When he raised his head again and felt the Nascent Soul aura radiating from Chú Róng, Jìn Tuò gave another start: "Young Master — you broke through to Nascent Soul?"

Barely half a month apart — and the young master had advanced again? And gone straight from Great Completion of Golden Core to Nascent Soul in a single leap?!

He had to know — Nascent Soul was the single greatest threshold in the entire path of cultivation. Below Nascent Soul, everyone was as insignificant as an ant. Over the past several hundred years, countless cultivators in the cultivation world had been stuck at Golden Core, unable to advance for decades, even centuries.

The young master had only made one trip to the secret realm — and already broken through?

Was it really that easy to reach Nascent Soul?

Jìn Tuò's head was spinning. He could hardly believe it. He wouldn't even have dared dream of this!

Chú Róng's gifts overturned Jìn Tuò's understanding once again. Throughout the walk welcoming Chú Róng back to the main hall, his expression remained dazed — until he heard Chú Róng mention that he intended to leave the sect in a while. Only then did he snap back to himself as though struck by lightning.

"Leave the sect?" Jìn Tuò's face changed drastically. The joy of having received the dragon breath drained away in an instant, replaced by profound unease: "Young Master, everything has been perfectly well — why do you suddenly wish to leave? Could it be that Qīngxū Sect has somehow failed in its hospitality toward the young master?"

Setting aside the young master's relationship with the Immortal Venerable — even looking only at Chú Róng's unique and unrivaled gifts, Qīngxū Sect could not afford to let him go.

A genius like this, once lost, where in the world would you find a second one?

"Not so." Chú Róng lowered his gaze, thought quietly for a moment, and then, leaving aside the part pertaining to his own origins, told them everything the Heavenly Dao had entrusted to him inside the secret realm.

Jìn Tuò and the assembled elders drew one sharp breath after another. The Heavenly Dao had actually been inside the Dragon Vein Ancient Land? The great calamity three hundred years ago had truly been resolved by the Heavenly Dao's intervention?

Every single one of the Hundred Immortal Sects knew how persistent and troublesome the evil energy was. Now that a solution had been found, this was an act of benefit to all three realms. Jìn Tuò had no grounds to object.

The heart he'd had lodged in his throat eased back down at once. As long as the young master wasn't leaving Qīngxū Sect entirely, everything else could be discussed: "How long will the young master be gone?"

Chú Róng didn't conceal it: "As short as ten years, as long as a hundred."

Having reached Nascent Soul, a cultivator's lifespan extended to three thousand years. A hundred years was not, when considered against that, especially long. The last traces of Jìn Tuò's concern vanished. He was just about to say something when Ning Yuan's level, unhurried voice cut in: "I will go with Róng Róng. All sect affairs are fully entrusted to all of you to manage."

Jìn Tuò and the others blinked. As one, they looked in astonishment at the man sitting at Chú Róng's side.

Even Chú Róng's face showed a flicker of surprise: "You're going?"

This was his agreement with the Heavenly Dao — nothing to do with Ning Yuan. Ning Yuan had no need to involve himself.

"Of course." Ning Yuan's face showed no particular expression. The words that came out, however, were spoken in a tone that brooked no argument. Chú Róng's matters were his matters. How could he possibly let Chú Róng go alone to suppress the evil energy? Still less allow Chú Róng to leave his side for a hundred years.

That was why, inside the secret realm, when Chú Róng had been negotiating conditions with the Heavenly Dao, he hadn't stopped him.

Besides — with the dragon breath in hand, Qīngxū Sect's strength would inevitably rise another level. Whether or not he remained in the sect to keep watch, nothing would go seriously wrong.

When Ning Yuan had made a decision, no one dared speak against it. Jìn Tuò and the others exchanged a look and not one person raised an objection.

* * *

On the other side.

The Heavenly Secrets Sect had spared no effort and quickly traced Chú Róng's movements over the past two months.

The moment Hè Tíng had the intelligence his subordinates had gathered in hand, he immediately seized it and went through it. Chú Róng's whereabouts were simple — he had been inside Qīngxū Sect for almost the entire two months and had rarely shown himself.

The most astonishing thing to Hè Tíng was that the strange phenomenon that had happened in Qīngxū Sect some time ago had not been caused by Ning Yuan breaking through — but by Chú Róng drawing qi for the first time.

And it was in that same instance that Chú Róng's cultivation had leapt in one bound to Great Completion of Golden Core.

Hè Tíng squeezed his fingers tight, the knuckles going white one by one. He stared dead at the words "Great Completion of Golden Core." So Chú Róng had genuinely been cultivating?

From drawing qi for the first time to Great Completion of Golden Core in less than half a month, then breaking through to Nascent Soul in one go — gifts like this were unheard of in the entire history of the Heavenly Secrets Sect's existence.

Hè Tíng's heart was in violent upheaval, unable to settle for a long while — filled with wonder, with disbelief, and with regret and remorse.

That matchless appearance, paired with that one-in-a-million aptitude — the desire to possess swelled within him to proportions he had never experienced before. And yet he had absolutely no means to act on it.

Hè Tíng bitterly regretted it. When they had been at Qingyang, he should have been more ruthless in his methods, seized Chú Róng without hesitation, and given him no opportunity to grow at all.

Otherwise, would things have come to this?

What a pity. The sky had not indulged his wishes.

Two months — just two months — and the entire situation had been turned completely upside down.

Two months ago, he was a cultivator and Chú Róng was a mortal. Managing Chú Róng would have been as easy as turning a hand over. And that was why, even as his visiting letters were turned back one after another over those two months, he had kept his patience and waited for an opportunity.

And yet — only two months had passed, and Chú Róng was now Nascent Soul. He himself was now no better than an ant before Chú Róng.

Hè Tíng had never suffered so great a defeat at anyone's hands before. How could he be at peace with this?

Hè Tíng's face twisted with fury. He swept the documents from his desk with a violent backhand, scattering them to the floor — and still the suffocating weight in his chest found no outlet. He raised his foot and kicked over his chair.

* * *

The sects that had been investigating Chú Róng received their intelligence one after another.

Unlike Hè Tíng's unresigned fury, most of the Immortal Sects' cultivators felt more of a complex, tangled emotion — to think how many years they had cultivated, how many methods they had exhausted trying to advance, and in the end, not one of them could hold a candle to a single hair on Chú Róng's head.

It was enough to strip even the gall for jealousy right out of a person.

* * *

Among the Immortal Sects, only Qingyang refused to believe a single word of the intelligence they had received.

They had wronged Chú Róng in the past — but Ning Yuan had already taken revenge on Chú Róng's behalf. Qingyang had had its reputation ruined over it, and there was not a person alive who couldn't spit on their name. They didn't owe Chú Róng anything. Lián Cí had long since wished to hear no more mention of Chú Róng. Upon learning that Cen Yan and Péi Zhàn had returned, he put the matter of Chú Róng entirely out of mind and went out to welcome them.

Seeing that neither of them had suffered serious injuries, and that their cultivation had both advanced considerably, the worry-creased lines of Lián Cí's brow finally smoothed: "As long as you've come back safely. Did you gain anything of note from this trip?"

Cen Yan handed over all the resources he had obtained inside the secret realm — in total, more than a dozen varieties, every one of a superior grade. Any one of them pulled out at random would surpass the finest resources currently in the sect.

"Truly worthy of the Dragon Vein Ancient Land — to have such abundant resources." Lián Cí was both astonished and delighted. He put away the resources and looked toward Péi Zhàn in the hall: "Zhàn'er?"

Péi Zhàn stood straight and upright in the center of the hall, his eyes cast down, unresponsive. His gold-tinted eyes were unfocused and distant, his mind elsewhere.

The look of pleasure on Lián Cí's face dimmed slightly. He called Péi Zhàn's name again in puzzlement.

Péi Zhàn came back to himself, handed over his resources, and looked at Lián Cí with something he wanted to say and then held back.

"What is it?" Lián Cí asked: "Is something wrong?"

Péi Zhàn drew a slow breath and spoke each word with deliberate weight: "Does Master know — that Chú Róng is at Nascent Soul?"