miralunem

Surprisingly for both of them, Feng Qingyun’s first reaction at the moment he heard those words wasn’t shame but… A jolt of helpless bewilderment.

The blood deed compelled him to obey Long Yin’s command, and so, it looked as if his slender, pale fingers instinctively moved and pressed against the collar of his robes. But what wasn’t visible from the outside was the thin layer of calluses that covered the palms of those hands, calluses left by years of wielding a sword.

Feng Qingyun had gotten them when he was still very young. During his early sword practice, the skin on his palms would tear open, then scab over, only to be worn raw again. Over the years, that cycle repeated until his hands formed a layer of hardened skin.

But by the time he reached the Qi Condensation stage, the intensity of training no longer left visible marks, so the thickness of those calluses had settled into a faint layer that never deepened. As a result, Feng Qingyun never thought of his hands as attractive, just as he had never considered his body particularly appealing either.

Centuries of one-sided love had ground away all confidence he once had when it came to matters of affection. He had never compared himself to Mu Hanyang, that distant and unattainable object of his younger self’s affection, but even so, it didn’t change how he saw himself: neither possessing the soft, full-bodied beauty of a woman born to be admired, nor the sharply defined physique often idealized in men.

And as a sword cultivator, Feng Qingyun even felt his not-so-broad frame was just…

Dull.

Perhaps it was because of his low self-esteem, completely different from the eagerness he’d shown in his dream, that he didn’t erupt in anger or embarrassment when Long Yin gave that command. In fact, he didn’t even offer a single complaint or reproach. After a brief pause, he silently undid his belt.

Only then did Long Yin truly notice how different this Feng Qingyun was from the one in the dream. He frowned slightly, lifted the other’s chin with a finger, and asked: “What’s with that face? Does it look like this Lord is forcing you?”

To be fair, he was being a scoundrel, and “forcing” wasn’t even that far from the truth.

But Feng Qingyun didn’t argue. He simply gripped the half-discarded fabric, turning his face away and refusing to look at Long Yin, or at himself.

Long Yin glanced down. That almost blindingly white skin, smooth like carved jade, blinded his eyes, and it took his mind a few seconds to catch up. Then, all at once, realization struck. Giving a low chuckle, he suddenly raised his hand. In the next instant, a mirror formed from condensed demonic Qi materialized before them.

Feng Qingyun froze, stunned, unable to react in time before Long Yin leaned into him from behind.

His lashes fluttered involuntarily as he asked: “What are you doing?!”

“What do you think?” Long Yin gripped his jaw and made him face the mirror. “Naturally, this Lord is helping you unlearn whatever inferiority complex your good ‘ex-husband’ left you with!”

Just hearing that title made Feng Qingyun bristle as he exclaimed, “He’s not my ex-husband!”

“Alright, alright. Not your ex.” Long Yin stared at him through the mirror. “We won’t mention him. Now stop looking at me and look at yourself.”

Feng Qingyun had just started to protest, eager to ask “Who’s looking at you?!”, when he turned his head and caught sight of his reflection.

Half-dressed, with spring spilling out of his robes, his skin practically glowing. Feng Qingyun blushed immediately, then in the next second, a tangle of vines shot up between them and the mirror.

“Tch,” Long Yin clicked his tongue in disapproval, yanking the flowers out of the way. “No hiding.”

Then, with his other hand, he began pointing at every inch of skin reflected in the mirror, utterly unfazed by Feng Qingyun’s embarrassment. “Tell me, which part of this isn’t beautiful?”

“Don’t ask…” Feng Qingyun’s ears were burning crimson, blurting words like a panicked prayer: “It’s all fine! Just stop…”

“If it’s all fine, then keep going.” Long Yin leaned close and whispered in his ear, “There’s still a bit of fabric left.”

Feng Qingyun shut his eyes tight and, with trembling hands, removed the final piece.

He didn’t dare look at the mirror at all.

In the haze clouding his mind, a ridiculous question surfaced: Why am I doing this?! Why do I have to listen to him?!

But the blood deed left no room for disobedience.

Gritting his teeth, Feng Qingyun mentally jotted down the humiliation, vowing to settle the debt.

Unfortunately, the shameless bastard in question remained blissfully unaware that another account had been added to his ledger. Instead, Long Yin spoke again, low in his ear: “Didn’t this Lord say not to hide? Still not listening?”

He caught Feng Qingyun’s wrist, and just as the latter reached the edge of furious shame, Long Yin leaned down and kissed him.

The world seemed to go quiet.

In that moment, Feng Qingyun had nowhere to hide as all of himself was laid bare in that mirror. His ears were burning hot, as red as ripened fruit, and he couldn’t bring himself to look even once at his own reflection.

But as a cultivator in the later stages of Foundation Building, his enhanced spiritual awareness betrayed him. Even without looking directly, he could still see everything, clearly and precisely.

As though from a third-person angle, hovering above the scene.

The shame of it nearly made him want to run himself through a sword. And maybe, while he was at it, take Long Yin down too!

Unfortunately, before he could escape even mentally, his own body, having finished obeying one command, seemed to remember the next.

And so, the vines responded obediently.

It was impossible to describe the sensation that followed.

For Feng Qingyun, his vines were an extension of himself, so that… Felt like tying himself up with his own hands and offering himself forward. It was mortifying beyond words. And when Long Yin pressed into him from behind, one arm cinched around his waist, pinning him fully in place, the shame spiked to an unbearable high.

And that infuriating man, even now, still had the guts to speak in a calm, upright tone right in his ear: “Among all the realms, even the bald cultivators of the past admit that dual cultivation arts are infinite in their profundity… Would you like to try them, Little Palace Master?”

But in the Righteous Path, at least according to everything Feng Qingyun had been taught, dual cultivation was a demonic technique! At least in Mu Hanyang’s eyes, only bitter sword cultivation was the true way since only discipline proved one’s heart was righteous.

Therefore, Feng Qingyun opened his mouth to say as much, making Long Yin snort with contempt. “Listening to that self-righteous dog of a Senior Brother spout nonsense, and you actually believed him?” he asked. “You really think if that Miss Yu he longs for showed up and told him to undress and crawl, he wouldn’t be licking her feet in a heartbeat?”

His words were so crude… Feng Qingyun winced, his eyes squeezing shut as his hand snapped back to clutch his own vines. “You!”

“What about me?” Long Yin chuckled and kissed his ear. “Too bad, even being a dog for you… He’d already lost that chance.” Then, he added casually: “This Lord happens to possess not only the full library of the Hehuan Sect, but also the entire trove of Western Heaven’s Joyous Dual Cultivation manuals. Priceless stuff, so, Little Palace Master… Care to learn?”

Feng Qingyun didn’t even bother asking how a cultivator who formerly followed the Ruthless Path like Long Yin had gotten his hands on such things!

Clearly, the man wouldn’t stop until he got his way, so fighting it was hopeless. Left or right, he was getting dragged in either way. Feng Qingyun simply gave up and sneered, asking, “Manuals? Please. You probably just looked at the covers. All show, no skill, just like you.”

He didn’t even finish the sentence before the world suddenly spun as Long Yin laughed dangerously beside his ear. “Whether I’m any good, Little Palace Master, you’ll find out soon enough.” Then, without even consulting a single jade slip, he began reciting a string of incantation-like verses, clearly memorized long ago.

Feng Qingyun had barely swallowed his words when the tidal wave hit, with a force that was ten, no… A hundred times stronger than what he’d experienced in the dream.

He thought he was prepared, but… He clearly wasn’t.

He hadn’t had the faintest idea what he was in for.

Even setting aside the stark contrast between dream and reality, just the very fact that he had to remain lucid enough to coordinate spiritual energy mid-act was absurd in itself! And the self-deception of pretending that what was happening was serious cultivation only made it more humiliating!

Let alone the fact that they were beneath the open sky, with not even a roof over their heads! It was the complete opposite of the ceremonial, dreamlike wedding night he had imagined!

Feng Qingyun bit down hard on Long Yin’s shoulder, muffling his cries as hot tears spilled uncontrollably from his eyes.

And that man, undeterred, was still instructing in his ear, as though it was some righteous lesson: “Don’t tense up. Breathe. Your spiritual energy is a mess. You need to relax and use the method I taught you. Only then can you fully accept external energy.”

He really was trying to teach him a proper dual cultivation method!

From the day he first began practicing swordsmanship, Feng Qingyun had never once experienced cultivating with someone else’s assistance. For a sword cultivator, that sort of thing simply didn’t exist…

…Which was precisely why he couldn’t relax, no matter what he did. His pretty brows furrowed unconsciously, and the tears clinging to the corners of his eyes were impossible to stop.

His hands were bound behind his back, chest rising and falling rapidly, and his mind felt like thick paste. And for the first time in his life, Feng Qingyun found himself unable to control his Qi.

Long Yin, however, clearly had other intentions. Seeing his state, he bent down to kiss away a tear from the corner of his eye, while still murmuring his cultivation method: “Cycle it through your Dantian…”

Feng Qingyun really couldn’t take it anymore. He twisted his waist, trying to escape, sucking in cold breaths through clenched teeth as he asked: “Why the hell… Are you so good at this dual cultivation method?!”

Long Yin laughed under his breath, tightening his grip on Feng Qingyun’s waist and dragging him back under his body. “Take a guess,” he said softly, right next to his ear.

Feng Qingyun turned his head away in silence, refusing to look at him. His red-rimmed eyes glistened, and his fingers clenched helplessly against the floor.

“Are you mad?” Long Yin kissed his lips, only to be met with Feng Qingyun turning away.

He didn’t speak, but lifted his eyes to glare at Long Yin, his gaze wet and unwavering.

Long Yin relented at once, softening his tone to coax him. “All right, all right, this Lord is just teasing. Why else would I know it so well? Of course, it’s because I dreamed of it. It’s what they call daydreaming. In those dreams, didn’t the Little Palace Master also take advantage of this Lord for practice?”

As he spoke, Long Yin leaned in again to kiss him. Amid the entangled breath and lips, he whispered: “And even if I had any experience, couldn’t you tell from that dream?”

It was the first time the two of them had explicitly mentioned the dream they shared. Feng Qingyun flushed crimson and instantly raised his vines to try and separate them, muttering something under his breath.

Long Yin narrowed his eyes. “What did you just mutter?” he asked. “Calling me names again?”

Feng Qingyun gave him a side glance through the vines, silent but clearly thinking: “If I wanted to insult you, I wouldn’t need to whisper!”

However, spiritual awareness made secrecy nearly impossible. Long Yin, being the Demon Lord he was, deliberately leaned forward and pressed a kiss to one of the shyly quivering flower stamens nearby.

The stamen shrank back instantly. Feng Qingyun, as expected, removed the vines in a fluster and glared at him. Long Yin raised his brows again. “Well? What did you just call this Lord?”

Feng Qingyun stared at him for three seconds before finally gritting out two syllables. The first was too quiet to catch, but the second was clear: “…Scum.”

And yet, Long Yin didn’t look insulted in the least. On the contrary, he looked quite pleased, as though he’d just received permission to bully even further. Pulling Feng Qingyun’s waist close again, he lowered his voice and said: “Ah, so this Lord didn’t do a good enough job last time. Then I suppose I’ll just have to ask the Little Palace Master to instruct me. Teach this Lord how not to be such a disappointment.”

Feng Qingyun’s expression shifted, and he immediately tried to run away. However, Long Yin caught him around the waist and dragged him back, prompting Feng Qingyun to snap: “Who the hell wants to teach you?! You’re… mmph!”

“…”

As any matter related to cultivation, it was never resolved in a mere day or two.

As their spiritual and physical energies fused, and the method truly began to function, a full day passed. But then, suddenly and without warning, Long Yin paused.

An illogical, chaotic vision surged in his mind, nearly swallowing his consciousness whole.

Staring at the man beneath him, at his eyes that were still damp and luminous, Long Yin’s expression grew dazed.

Feng Qingyun wasn’t entirely clear-headed either. After a moment, he blinked up and asked: “…What is it?”

Long Yin cradled his face in both hands, then leaned down and kissed the tip of his nose. After a beat, he whispered: “My Little Palace Master…”

There was something surreal, something impossibly familiar in the way he said it, as though it carried the weight of more than one lifetime. But Feng Qingyun didn’t catch the meaning.

“You’re being weird again… ngh…”, he mumbled. “Why’d you stop halfway…” With the flow of Qi interrupted, he let out a sharp breath and couldn’t help swearing: “Hurry up, you bastard…”

That “bastard” triggered something.

Memories from that life surged forward and collided with fragmented impressions from another, nearly tearing Long Yin’s mind apart. A painful explosion of sensation rang through his head, his consciousness spiraling in disorientation.

Still, his face showed nothing. After a brief pause, he managed to lean down and kiss the man in his arms again. “Mmm. Lovely insult,” he whispered. “Say it again for this Lord, won’t you?”

That subtly different tone finally alerted Feng Qingyun that something was off. But rationality was a rare commodity for him in that moment, and all he could manage was to grumble through clenched teeth: “If you’re crazy, go to Xiaoyao Valley for treatment…”

Long Yin just laughed, pressed a hand to his Dantian, and said: “Aren’t you the one who’d know best if I’m crazy?”

At the contact, Feng Qingyun’s vision exploded with white light, and the numbing sensation in his lower back flared. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“I’m helping you,” Long Yin replied, completely unfazed. “Don’t arch your back so much. It interferes with the Qi flow. Keep your energy rooted in the Dantian; the method works best that way.”

Feng Qingyun didn’t even know whether Long Yin’s instructions were legitimate anymore. His so-called “method” of cultivation was nothing like the harsh, unforgiving training he’d endured growing up, but more like being soaked in a vat of wine, dissolving into pleasure.

So with half-lidded eyes and hips sinking lower, he finally let himself fall into rhythm. The moment he redirected his Qi downward, a rush of heat flowed through his limbs, and what remained of his reason evaporated.

………………..

Four or five dazed days passed just like that.

At one point, Feng Qingyun was draped over Long Yin’s shoulder, murmuring for a kiss when he suddenly froze. Eyes snapping open, he blurted: “Wait! My sword!”

His voice was still hazy, heavy with residual sweetness and not yet fully recovered.

Long Yin, disrupted, furrowed his brow in annoyance as he asked: “What is it?”

Feng Qingyun cleared his throat and instantly returned to himself. “My sword…” he started. “It’s acting strange.”

Long Yin’s expression sharpened. “Draw it out,” he commanded.

Feng Qingyun obeyed without thinking. He lifted the Linshuang Sword and stabbed it upright into the ground between them to check its condition.

But the moment he did that, he regretted it.

Whatever “strange reaction” it had shown earlier had vanished. The sword now sat still and silent, but its blade reflected their current state like the surface of a mirror.

Hanyang, Linshuang, and Changle had all been gifted by Zhong Yulan to her three disciples. There was also a fourth sword, named Tianxiao, that hadn’t matched anyone’s techniques. However, Mu Hanyang had pawned it off and used the gold to pay for some random cultivator’s medical treatment.

And in all those years since her ascension, Linshuang had been more than just Feng Qingyun’s soul-bound sword. It was a sacred token, the last connection to a woman who had been like both master and mother to him.

But now…

Now that very blade was faithfully reflecting the indecent scene between him and Long Yin!

It was… Just like doing it right in front of his Master!

Feng Qingyun was instantly overwhelmed with shame. Unable to think any further, he buried his face into Long Yin’s chest…

…Yet his hands betrayed him, instinctively pushing at the man above him.

Long Yin, half exasperated and half amused, asked: “What now, Ancestor?”

“…Get out!” Feng Qingyun ground out through gritted teeth.

Long Yin raised an eyebrow, as though he were still considering whether to negotiate or not, but at that very moment, the Linshuang Sword planted in the floor let out a faint hum.

Both of them turned toward the sound.

A shimmer of strange light flickered across the blade. For the briefest moment, the image of a town appeared faintly on its surface, then vanished, as though nothing had ever been there.

“What was that?” Long Yin frowned, gently patting the man in his arms. “Did your Master’s aura just manifest?”

Feng Qingyun smacked his hand away, brow furrowing as he got up. Within the amber-colored barrier, vines heavy with blooming roses slowly drew back in the dim light and began to vanish.

By the time he walked barefoot to the sword, all the vines had disappeared, revealing a Feng Qingyun that was now wearing a robe of pale green.

It wasn’t overly bright, nor dull like ordinary fabric. Instead, it shimmered like polished jade, casting a cool transparency over his frame. The color made his skin appear even whiter than snow, and his black hair cascaded on top of it like silk.

It was the first time across both lifetimes that Long Yin had seen Feng Qingyun in green, and under other circumstances, he might have been stunned.

But having seen him just moments earlier, in a state of complete indecency, the sudden transformation from debauchery to elegance was simply jarring. The mix of chastity and seduction was too striking to ignore, and even Long Yin found it hard to restrain his imagination.

Feng Qingyun, as though unaware of the man’s gaze, simply walked barefoot to the sword, pulled it from the ground without a word, and closed his eyes to sense the subtle tremors within.

Moments later, he opened his eyes and said quietly: “You’re right. I really did sense my Master’s presence through Linshuang…”

Well… That was officially ghostly. Long Yin frowned, asking: “Where?”

“…Right here, in the Demon World.” Feng Qingyun raised a hand and promptly slashed open the golden amber barrier as a crack opened in the space, revealing the world outside. “But the exact location…” he continued. “I’ll trouble His Majesty to send someone to investigate.”

He was speaking with the exact air of “if there’s work, I’ll come to you,” so… since there was a problem, let the Demon Emperor deal with it¹!

However, it was hard to tell how much of it was a sincere request and how much was sarcasm. After all, he’d been bullied into calling Long Yin “brother” and “husband” so many times, so calling him “Your Majesty” without the slightest hint of respect was not out of question.

Long Yin’s brow twitched, but not at the title.

It was something else entirely.

“Little Palace Master,” he said slowly, “before you ask someone for help, don’t you think you’re forgetting something? You’ve dressed yourself up nice and proper, but your man is still completely naked!”

Feng Qingyun’s face burned. He turned and flung a storage ring straight at Long Yin’s face, one he hadn’t even realized had been slipped onto his finger. “It’s been five days!” he said. “You’ve had more than enough! Stop acting aggrieved and get to work!”

The tone of his voice made it sound like he was the Master of the blood deed, not the other way around. Feng Qingyun half-expected Long Yin to seize the chance to tease him again, or make another crude comment…

…But surprisingly, Long Yin only gave him a long look before putting on the ring and waving his hand to summon fresh clothing. Then, with a short, “Wait for me,” he turned and left the bedchamber.

Feng Qingyun’s heart skipped a beat.

Everything looked perfectly normal, but there was something subtly… Off.

What was it?! What was wrong?!

Feng Qingyun sat down on the edge of the bed, frowning faintly. Though he couldn’t pinpoint it, the nagging unease didn’t go away.

Eventually, his spiritual energy settled.

But this time… Unlike before, when he awakened from the dream, and his Dantian felt overwhelmingly full and like a dam about to burst, his consciousness was now entirely serene.

Perfectly harmonized.

In fact, it could be said that he had reached a level of natural integration between his demonic Qi and the rest of his cultivation, proving that Long Yin’s “method” had indeed worked! When the realization dawned on him, Feng Qingyun’s ears flushed bright red. He coughed lightly and turned to summon Yue Jinshu. “…Miss Yue, would you help me retrieve some information from the study?”

He quickly listed out what he needed her to look up.

Yue Jinshu didn’t question what her two masters had been doing for so many days inside their bedroom. Instead, she simply took his orders and turned to leave.

Once again, Feng Qingyun was alone.

He sat in thought, frowning, sorting through all the recent information.

From what the trip to Xiangqiu had uncovered, it was clear that Su Yunzhou didn’t know everything either. At the very least, she hadn’t mentioned anything about some immortals descending during the ancient war, like what they’ve seen in the recording left inside the Baihua Cave. But that didn’t necessarily contradict her claims either.

Perhaps the voice that had said “this little world has grown strong, so it cannot be allowed to remain. It must be eradicated, root and stem” belonged to one of those immortals.

And in the ruins of the Baihua Cave, when the Xuanwu beast perished alongside one of those figures, the other two had shown no grief. Instead, they’d immediately begun searching for something in obvious alarm.

Looking back now, it seemed unlikely that those three were allies. They’d merely arrived for some shared purpose, a theory that aligned perfectly with what Su Yunzhou had said: that the ancient war was sparked by a struggle to seize something.

But what exactly were they trying to seize?

What could be so valuable in a world that had no path to ascension? What treasure could drive immortals to risk true death?

And what about that mysterious black-robed sword cultivator?

Why did he feel so familiar?!

…And why had Zhong Yulan’s aura suddenly surfaced in the Demon World of all places?!

Question after question tangled Feng Qingyun’s mind into a storm as he said nothing, sifting through his thoughts while half-heartedly combing through his tangled hair. But when his fingers touched the rose-shaped jade hairpin, he instinctively lifted it to fasten his hair, then looked up and caught sight of himself in the bedroom mirror.

He froze.

And then, a specific thought crossed his mind, making his face instantly flush crimson.

“Your Highness?” Yue Jinshu had just returned with a jade slip in hand. She blinked at the scene and asked hesitantly: “Are you all right?”

Feng Qingyun abruptly came back to his senses and forcefully suppressed the flurry of chaotic thoughts in his head. “…Any leads?” he asked.

“Your Highness was right,” Yue Jinshu immediately straightened her expression and nodded. “So far, we’ve confirmed there are over a hundred ancient relic sites scattered across the realms. On the surface, they seem evenly distributed. However… Once you exclude the ones with no remains and those linked to the nine-tailed heavenly fox clan, half of the remaining relics that are tied to the Four Ancient Beasts are located in the Demon World.”

Feng Qingyun’s breath caught. “Details?”

“The Zhuque relic is a special case since it’s located at the convergence of all three realms. But the Baihu and Xuanwu relics are both in the Demon World,” she explained. “As for the Qinglongrelic, its location remains unknown. And the legendary Qilin relic… There’s no news at all. So of the Four Ancient Beasts, two are indeed confirmed to have died in the Demon World. Whether that’s a coincidence or not… We don’t yet know.”

No sooner had she finished speaking than Long Yin entered, carrying something in his hands.

“Your Majesty,” Yue Jinshu stood up and bowed. She was just about to repeat what she had said when Long Yin casually raised a hand, signaling that he’d already heard.

That ordinary gesture shouldn’t have meant anything, but for some reason, it struck Yue Jinshu as oddly… Off. She blinked and looked up at Long Yin, but couldn’t find anything obviously amiss.

When Long Yin took a seat beside Feng Qingyun and spoke, the strangeness disappeared altogether.

“Here, Qingyun…”

The moment he spoke, Feng Qingyun instinctively narrowed his eyes in wariness.

Although his mind was still foggy from… various inconvenient reasons, Feng Qingyun could still sense that Long Yin had undergone some subtle shift.

However, he still couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was despite the fact that his instinct told him that something was definitely not right. After what they’d just done, he’d expected Long Yin to act even more shamelessly in real life, but to his surprise, Long Yin didn’t. He simply smiled, scooped up a spoonful of soup, and brought it to Feng Qingyun’s lips.

But that didn’t mean all was forgiven.

Feng Qingyun still remembered every outrageous thing Long Yin had done under the pretense of the blood deed, since every single one of them was an abomination in itself… So he stared at Long Yin for three full seconds before lowering his head and reluctantly taking a sip.

The soup was, admittedly, delicious. He didn’t know where Long Yin had gotten it so quickly, but it tasted like something simmered long from thick, gelatinous meat stock.

The room fell into a brief, oddly intimate silence. Seeing how thick the tension was getting, Yue Jinshu quickly bowed and took her leave.

After swallowing the viscous soup, Feng Qingyun asked: “You’re back so quickly… Did you find something?”

“Of course. Your line of thinking was spot-on. Another minor demonic realm has shown signs of a newly opened ancient ruin. The full appearance may take some time, but if we pass through the Underworld first, we’ll still make it in time.” Long Yin scooped up another spoonful and brought it to his lips. “But if you truly sensed your Master’s aura… You’d better prepare yourself.”

Ancient ruins, at their core, were massive graveyards…

…So if Zhong Yulan’s aura was leaking from such a place, it most likely wasn’t good news.

“…I know,” Feng Qingyun replied softly. He glanced at the spoon hovering in front of him, and just as he was about to drink, the viscous texture triggered a vague memory, making his face twitch. “Don’t want it. You drink,” he answered while turning his head slightly.

“What’s wrong?” Long Yin took a sip from the same spoon. “Tastes fine to me.”

“…The flavor’s fine. Just… A little too thick,” Feng Qingyun said, avoiding eye contact.

His eyes flickered a little too quickly. Long Yin stared at him for three seconds, then suddenly smirked in realization. “Ah, is Qingyun upset the soup’s too thick, too sticky, and a bit like…”

“You shut up!”

Smiling, Long Yin offered another spoonful. “It’s Northern Ice Dragon Fish soup. Supposed to help spiritual plants… Bear fruit.”

“You go bear fruit!” Feng Qingyun snapped, his face flushing crimson. “Drink it yourself! Get lost!”

“Alright, alright, just teasing you.” Long Yin finally turned a bit more serious. “Your body took in too much demonic Qi. Dual cultivation might not be enough to convert it all. If it lingers, it could harm your spiritual foundation. The soup will help you metabolize it. So be good and drink up.”

Feng Qingyun frowned slightly and stared at the bowl for a long moment, then, unwillingly, lowered his eyes and drank a few more sips. But just as the soup was about to be finished, he suddenly looked away, face cooling. “No. This can’t wait any longer.”

Long Yin paused. “Why?”

“Mu Hanyang is suffering from the backlash of the blood deed. His realm has likely dropped from the Golden Core stage, and the Heavenly Gate Ceremony is approaching. He’s bound to seek a way to restore his strength before then,” Feng Qingyun said coldly. “If that ruin in the small demon realm contains anything related to our Master… We cannot let him get to it first. The Underworld can wait.”

Long Yin thought for a moment and nodded. “Agreed. We’ve already delayed our trip to the Underworld this long. A few more days won’t hurt. Let’s finish the soup, and we’ll leave immediately.”

Feng Qingyun was about to agree when Long Yin suddenly changed the subject. “But even if we get there early, it doesn’t mean he won’t show up. You might still run into your dear brother. If that happens… How do you plan to introduce this Lord?”

Feng Qingyun glared. “…My male pet!”

“Male pet is fine. At least I’ve got a title.” Long Yin looked downright smug. “Way better than that useless brother of yours.”

Feng Qingyun froze for a moment, then looked at him for three full seconds before licking his lips awkwardly. “…You don’t need to keep comparing yourself to him,” he finally said.

Long Yin blinked, a bit surprised. For someone who used to sharply draw comparisons between the two men, Feng Qingyun actually pursed his lips and said softly: “…To me, you’re not the same.”

He was never your equal.

Long Yin’s expression shifted. He stared for a moment, then smiled, really smiled, in a way Feng Qingyun had never seen in two lifetimes. “If you say that,” Long Yin said, offering the final spoonful, “then this Lord might just start getting cocky.”

Feng Qingyun didn’t retort. He merely glanced at him, lips twitching, then lowered his head and drank the last sip.

It was as good as giving permission.

Long Yin chuckled and finally set the bowl aside.

Feng Qingyun licked his lips, pulled out a piece of paper, and began preparing to write a letter to Bai Ruolin, but just as he raised his brush, the man beside him, still riding the high of his earlier “victory,” asked a jarringly out-of-nowhere question: “So, since I’m clearly not the same as that guy… If one day I really do regain all my memories, and the me from this life and the me from the last both stood in front of you… Who would you choose?”

It was a ridiculous question.

If he had his memories, then clearly both versions were one and the same! There wouldn’t be two Long Yins!

And even if there were?

Feng Qingyun would choose both!

A blood deed wasn’t an exclusively binding vow, after all.

But Long Yin had far too many “bad” precedents. Feng Qingyun figured he was just being dramatic again, and to shut him up, answered casually: “This life’s you, of course.”

Long Yin blinked, apparently not expecting that. “…Why?”

“Didn’t you say: one day as spouses, a hundred days of grace? I haven’t dual cultivated with your past self, have I?” Feng Qingyun replied lazily. “And besides, even if both of you are ancient dragons, for some reason, I feel like the present you… It’s a bit lighter. I want you to live without so much heaviness. I want you to feel… Free.”

He wasn’t just saying it to appease him. Feng Qingyun, as always, spoke the truth, even when he tried to lie.

He really did feel that the Long Yin of the past carried something unspoken in his heart. The present-day Long Yin, who’d forgotten his previous life, was lighter in both heart and soul.

But Long Yin, hearing that, seemed to take something else entirely from it. His expression turned oddly unreadable.

“…In your eyes, was this Lord’s past self that… Burdensome?” he asked after a long pause.

Feng Qingyun stared at him, dumbfounded that that was his takeaway…

…He couldn’t even muster the energy to be annoyed.

He was still trying to write his damn letter!

Seeing no other choice, Feng Qingyun looked at him for three seconds, then leaned over and pecked his lips. “…Fine, okay? I was the one who couldn’t let go before. Can’t we let the past be the past? I only saw him a few times. Why are you still hung up on this?”

But Long Yin’s face darkened visibly, clouds gathering.

Feng Qingyun hesitated, ears flushing red. He cleared his throat, then, a little stiffly, offered the half-lie that held half his truth: “…I only have feelings for you, in this life. Is that enough?”

Because the true part was:

I do love you.

But the part that wasn’t?

Only in this life.

For in both past and present, he had always cared for that infuriating man, one way or another.

However, the effect of his words was the exact opposite of what he’d hoped for.

The man who had just insisted he wasn’t the same person as his past self now wore an expression as dark as an overturned inkpot.

It was, without question, a textbook case of digging his own grave.

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1. 有事鍾無豔，無事夏迎春, Chinese proverb that translates to: “Reach Zhong Wuyan when there is trouble, reach Xia Yingchun when there is nothing to do”. Proverb interpretation: One only looks for someone when they have a problem/need help, but never in times of happiness or joy. Proverb historical origin: Zhongli Chun, also known as Zhong Wuyan, was the queen consort of King Xuan of Qi, who was talented but famous for her ugliness. She once saved the country by offering the king advice that encouraged him to start reforms. Xia Yingchun, on the other hand, was a fictional character in folk tales who was said to be a concubine of King Xuan and was very beautiful but with little talent. It was said that when King Xuan had troubles, he would seek Zhongli Chun. On the contrary, when he was free, he would play with Xia Yingchun instead. ↩︎

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