Chapter Eighty One

Tiānyá was unimaginably far away. The Spirit Canal drifted through the high sky for nearly three months before it finally arrived.

As far as the eye could see, it was as though a vast ocean had been overturned and poured from the horizon down in a straight fall. The sea of clouds churned and surged right before them, wave upon wave without end.

Breathtaking.

Awe-inspiring.

All around, there was no sign of life — not a single blade of grass. The silence was so complete, even the sound of the wind was perfectly distinct.

Chú Róng stood on the Spirit Canal and looked down through the sea of clouds. Beyond the mist and fog, he could see a deep, vast abyss of a ravine. Inside it was the evil energy sealed away by the Heavenly Dao — a dense, pitch-black mass, like some enormous creature he had seen in a period drama back in the modern world, nearly filling the ravine to its brim. Compared to it, the evil energy inside Qingyang barely even qualified as a drop in the ocean.

The seal was a golden-glowing barrier pressed tight over the abyss, sealing off the sky from the earth below. Chú Róng circled carefully around the edges of the barrier and found that the light around its perimeter had indeed grown dim. There were genuine signs of loosening. Here and there, faint wisps of evil energy could already be seen stretching outward like tendrils from within.

Chú Róng spread both palms and wove a spell seal, driving the seeping evil energy back within the barrier. He took out the spiritual tool containing the evil energy he had sealed from Qingyang and pressed it down into the barrier, then channeled spiritual energy into the barrier and began to repair the loosened seal bit by bit.

Ning Yuan stayed by Chú Róng's side without a step's distance between them. Seeing Chú Róng at work, he channeled his spiritual energy as well and joined in repairing the barrier.

The barrier was immense. The two of them poured their spiritual energy in without cease. Seven days and seven nights later, the loosened gaps in the barrier were finally restored to their original state.

Chú Róng was at Nascent Soul. Though he could already draw freely on the forces of heaven and earth, the sustained expenditure without sleep or rest had still taken a considerable toll. A faint glimmer of fine sweat had appeared on his pale brow, and his complexion had gone slightly white.

Ning Yuan was at Mahayana and was entirely unaffected. He spread his arms and drew Chú Róng in, carried him back onto the Spirit Canal and set him down on the jade couch, leaning him against his chest. One hand bent and brushed away the fine sweat at Chú Róng's temple; the other seized his wrist, channeling spiritual energy into his body to help regulate the disrupted cinnabar field.

Chú Róng leaned against the man's broad chest. His breathing gradually steadied. The color slowly returned to his face.

"That's enough." Chú Róng lightly raised his jade-like fingertips and pressed down on Ning Yuan's arm. He already felt considerably better.

Ning Yuan's gaze moved carefully over the face of the person in his arms, confirming there was not the slightest discomfort remaining. He dispersed the spiritual energy from his fingertips and instead closed his hand around Chú Róng's, bringing it to his lips for two light kisses against the faintly flushed fingertips.

Chú Róng's fingertips instinctively curled slightly — but he didn't withdraw his hand. He rested in Ning Yuan's arms for a while until the weariness in his limbs faded, then gently pushed him away, stepped down from the jade couch, his cloud-like black hair falling loose around his shoulders and back: "Although the barrier has been repaired, we still can't let our guard down. To prevent the evil energy from breaking out again, I'll place a few more restriction seals throughout the surrounding hundred li."

And more than that — several more suppression seals on the barrier itself as well.

Since he had made his promise to the Heavenly Dao, he would keep it to the letter. There was no room for a single mistake.

Ning Yuan raised no objection to Chú Róng's proposal. He got up and fell into step with him. The two of them, taking the ravine sealing the evil energy as their center, began laying down restriction seals — one heading south, the other heading north.

Transparent barriers unfolded in the high sky little by little, slowly drawing closed from the outside in. After two hours had passed, massive barrier upon massive barrier had been layered over the surrounding area, the powerful pressure they radiated keeping everything at a respectful distance. Not even an ant could enter.

Chú Róng's crimson lips parted slightly. He let out a slow breath. This way, the evil energy should not be able to escape again.

"Róng Róng." Ning Yuan came up from behind and held him. He looked down at Chú Róng's face, which had gone slightly pale again: "The barrier has me to keep watch over it. Go back to the Spirit Canal and rest properly."

Over these past days, the expenditure on Chú Róng's spiritual energy had indeed been immense. He really did need to recuperate properly. He lowered his gaze in thought for a moment, then gave a quiet nod and didn't refuse: "Thank you for your trouble."

Ning Yuan lowered his head and kissed the pale tip of his brow. His voice was deep and low: "Between you and me — what need is there for thanks."

He was happy to do anything for Chú Róng.

That was true enough.

Chú Róng gave a soft laugh. The light playing through his luminous eyes was breathtakingly beautiful. He leaped back onto the Spirit Canal, sat cross-legged on the jade couch within the palace, closed his eyes, and poured all his concentration into his recuperation.

* * *

Seven more days passed in the blink of an eye.

When Chú Róng opened his eyes again, the palace was quiet. Ning Yuan was not in the hall.

The hall was bright with light. The orchid they had brought from Qingyang sat on the windowsill, releasing a faint, delicate fragrance. Several translucent beads of water clung to its leaves and stems — someone had clearly just watered it.

Without needing to guess, Chú Róng already knew whose doing it was.

He flicked a finger and cast a Dust-Clearing Technique on himself. He was just about to step down from the couch when a tall silhouette walked in through the palace doorway. The man knelt on one knee before the jade couch, took his slender, pale ankle in hand, and deftly slipped on his white boots.

Chú Róng sat at the edge of the couch without moving, and let the man do as he liked.

"How are you feeling?" Ning Yuan released the delicate ankle in his palm, sat down on the edge of the couch, and spread out one long arm, drawing Chú Róng into his embrace.

"Fine." After the recuperation, Chú Róng's strength had returned to its peak. The spiritual energy inside him was abundant and inexhaustible: "Did anything happen in these past few days?"

"Nothing." Ning Yuan pressed the side of his face against the smooth top of the head in his arms, breathing in the orchid fragrance clinging to him, his throat rolling up and down: "With the restriction seals pressing down on it, the evil energy can't break through the barrier."

Good.

Chú Róng felt at ease. He gazed out from the doorway at the vast, turbulent sea of clouds in the sky outside. Even seeing it a second time, it still struck him as incredible.

Suddenly, Chú Róng felt a large hand lift the back of his hand and place something faintly cool into his palm.

Chú Róng withdrew his gaze. He looked down. Lying in his palm were several superior-grade storage spiritual tools, varying in shape, but all exquisitely crafted.

"What are these?" Chú Róng's long lashes fluttered. He looked toward Ning Yuan in puzzlement.

"Things Jìn Tuò had prepared." Chú Róng had been consolidating his cultivation at the time Jìn Tuò prepared them, and so hadn't known. Ning Yuan casually picked up one of the tools, and with a thought, several volumes of story pamphlets appeared in his hand.

Chú Róng raised a hand and flipped through them. They were all mystery and supernatural tales, of different varieties.

Chú Róng set them down, caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation: "Why would Jìn Tuò have prepared these."

"I think they're rather good." Ning Yuan glanced downward at the pamphlets: "If you have time to spare, flipping through them can help ward off boredom."

Ning Yuan had cultivated from a young age and was accustomed to a life of quiet and solitude. Even with nothing at all to occupy himself, he would never feel bored.

But Chú Róng was different.

Chú Róng had taken up cultivation from an ordinary background midway through life. He still retained quite a few of a mortal person's habits. Jìn Tuò had probably been worried he would be bored and had deliberately sought these out to help him pass the time.

A warm current slid through Chú Róng's heart. His brows and eyes curved into a smile. He laughed slowly and brilliantly — like begonia blossoms in full bloom, brilliantly and strikingly vivid: "Then it would be rude of me to decline."

Ning Yuan looked down, gazing at his smiling face. His eyes darkened, degree by degree.

Just as Chú Róng reached out to take a pamphlet, Ning Yuan intercepted it and returned it to the storage tool. He suddenly leaned down — his heavy, towering body pressing Chú Róng down onto the jade couch. His knuckle-defined long finger touched the corner of his lips and pressed down with light force.

A faint sting of pain traveled from his lips. Chú Róng's brows drew together. He raised his eyes to glare at the man on top of him: "Ning Yuan, what are you——"

The words weren't out before Ning Yuan lowered his head and covered his lips in one fierce, overwhelming kiss, plundering his mouth with abandon.

Chú Róng let out a soft whimper. Thin, glistening threads slid from the corners of his lips, trailing down his pale jaw. The rest of what he had been about to say was swallowed entirely.

"You're not allowed." Ning Yuan's voice was low and darkened to a murmur. His tone sounded calm on the surface, but the possessive desire lurking beneath it made Chú Róng's scalp tingle involuntarily: "Not allowed to smile because of another man."

Chú Róng could only laugh even as he burned with irritation. His eyes flushed crimson at the corners. He pressed his teeth together and bit down with measured force on the long tongue in his mouth: "What are you thinking? I only think of Sect Master Jìn as an elder."

Three hundred years ago, when Chú Róng had given up everything, he had been only fifteen or sixteen years old. Three hundred years later, he had lived a few more years in the modern world — but even so, compared to Jìn Tuò's age, he didn't even amount to a fraction of it.

For Chú Róng to think of Jìn Tuò as an elder was, in fact, entirely fitting.

Ning Yuan didn't know the reason behind this — but thinking that Chú Róng was only twenty-something years old, the gap with Jìn Tuò was indeed enormous. His heart settled. The force of his assault gradually softened into something gentler.

* * *

From that day onward, Chú Róng and Ning Yuan kept watch outside the barrier. Whenever the evil energy showed any signs of movement, they suppressed it at the first opportunity.

Far away at Qingyang, Cen Yan had verified the contents of the hidden compartment and returned every item to its rightful owner among the sect's disciples, one by one. The items belonging to outside sects were also all entrusted to messengers and sent back.

Everyone came to know the circumstances. Taking back their returned belongings, their hearts were filled with a complex tangle of emotions impossible to put into words. To think — they had nearly driven Chú Róng to his death. And yet Chú Róng, while his life was under threat and his mind beyond his control, had still kept safe the things that had been plundered from them. The shame of it was overwhelming.

But stronger still was the excitement. Ever since learning that Chú Róng was Nascent Soul, the Hundred Immortal Sects had been desperate to find a pretext to pay a visit and cultivate some connection with him. Now — wasn't that pretext right there in front of them?

The Hundred Immortal Sects dispatched disciples at once and sent another round of visiting letters to Qīngxū Sect.

For a time, visiting letters from every sect drifted toward Qīngxū Sect like snowflakes.

Qīngxū Sect. Main peak, great hall.

Grand Elder Yún Sōng looked at the visiting letters piled into a small mountain on the writing desk, and turned to Sect Master Jìn Tuò in the seat of honor: "All of them are here to visit the Young Master. What does the Sect Master intend to do with them?"

The Young Master wasn't even in the sect — what was there to do?

Jìn Tuò swept a large hand and settled the matter decisively: "Decline them all, same as last time. The matter of the Young Master and the Immortal Venerable going to suppress the evil energy involves the Heavenly Dao and is not suitable for outside knowledge. Tell them they are in closed-door cultivation."

One at Nascent Soul, one at Mahayana — both had only recently broken through, and now another closed-door cultivation. This excuse might not have been very convincing for anyone else; the lie could be seen through at a poke.

But given that the cultivation world had witnessed Chú Róng and Ning Yuan's gifts with their own eyes, it was, in fact, entirely plausible.

"That will work." Yún Sōng nodded and instructed the disciples to see to it.

Within a few days, every sect in the Hundred Immortal Sects had learned that Chú Róng and Ning Yuan had entered closed-door cultivation, with no definite date set for emerging.

At first, some people were half-skeptical. But as several years passed and Chú Róng failed to appear at the sect even once — with Ning Yuan equally nowhere to be found — the Immortal Sects finally came to believe that the two of them were truly in seclusion. The visiting letters being sent to Qīngxū Sect gradually quieted down as well.