Gu Qing cradled the unconscious Milton, weaving swiftly through the forest until he found a natural cave beneath a hidden cliff. He carefully laid Milton on a clean, flat stone, then opened his palms to draw out spiritual energy. Sitting cross-legged, he began stabilizing Milton’s qi.
The energy flowed like threads, slowly entering the meridians, repairing the internal injuries. At the same time, Gu Qing concentrated his consciousness, intending to probe Milton’s spirit sea and purify the chaotic interior.
But in the next instant, his brow furrowed—
His mind had not even fully entered, yet it was repelled. It was not instinctive chaos, but a conscious refusal. Milton’s spirit sea was sealed like ice and steel, a fortress of countless layers, expelling any intruder. To force entry would shatter him completely.
Gu Qing remained calm, sensing at the iron wall’s edge. All he could perceive was a surge of pain and resistance.
It was a defense nearly saturated with sorrow—extreme sensitivity and self-preservation, like a cornered beast, covered in scars yet baring its teeth.
Suddenly, a voice drifted from deep within Milton’s consciousness—
Not memories, but fragmented, distorted, and obscene words, hooking at the mind, repeatedly tearing at trust:
“Gu Qing in bed… so… amazing… that waist… that strength… ah, when he was on me, I felt like I was floating…”
“…and he kissed me… my legs… went completely weak…”
Each lewd syllable stabbed at him.
Gu Qing’s eyes snapped open, shocked and horrified.
He finally understood—the method the black-market female insects had described to “destroy the spirit sea” was not through drugs or spiritual power, but through obscenity and humiliation, fabricating lies to tear Milton’s trust and push him into a pit of despair.
His fingertips tightened silently. Bowing his head slightly, Gu Qing’s heart ached as if pierced by needles.
Within his mind, the little celestial sphere burned with fury, silver sparks leaping:
“This is too much! Those scoundrels are deliberately poisoning his mind—mental pollution, despicable!”
Gu Qing said nothing, only watching Milton’s pale face, tracing his forehead lightly with a finger. Emotions flowed silently through his eyes.
He could not allow this misunderstanding to become the spark for Milton’s collapse.
This time, he anchored his consciousness at the edge of Milton’s spirit sea, like a lighthouse at the shore—neither approaching nor withdrawing.
In the chaotic darkness, Milton faintly “saw” a thread of golden light, neither hot nor cold, floating in the distance like a lone beacon in a storm, quietly waiting for him.
“No… why… are you here…?”
The voice was low, almost a hallucination, rising like bubbles in the deep sea, trembling with doubt.
Gu Qing closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, his voice gentle:
“Because I cannot leave you out of this.”
A simple sentence, yet like a ray of light, it pierced layers of shadow and doubt.
He lowered his head, pressing his temple against Milton’s forehead, his voice slow and tender:
“Those words… they were lies meant to deceive you. I never said them.”
Ripples stirred in Milton’s spirit sea. Gu Qing’s consciousness merely guarded, not intruding.
“If you truly doubt me, let me prove it to you, little by little, with time.”
“No matter how long you make me wait, I will stay here, never leave.”
“…I will stay here until you allow me in.”
After a long while, a tiny fissure appeared in the ice-bound walls of Milton’s spirit sea.
Through it shone a silver-white glow, like a gaze returning to look at Gu Qing.
Golden spiritual energy draped like mist, soothing the trembling, fractured spirit sea, beginning to repair the unhealed regions.
“Swish”—the little sphere shot out from Gu Qing’s mind, spinning like sparks in the air, finally hovering midair, voice sincere and excited:
“Wow~ Master, how can you be so gentle! Aren’t sword cultivators supposed to be cold and unreasonable? You’re basically a seducer hiding under a cultivation shell! That move just now, ‘I won’t enter your heart but I’ll wait at the door’—who could withstand it? Total gentle-slay technique!”
The cave’s firelight dimmed. Gu Qing sat quietly beside Milton, eyes on his face.
That small crack, seemingly insignificant, would ultimately change everything.
He crushed herbs and gently applied them to Milton’s wounds.
The little sphere, silver-white and round, floated like a reflection on water, patterns rippling softly, a long tail of light drifting behind.
It floated closer, quivering lightly, voice trembling with uncontrollable excitement:
“Whoa, your touch, your gaze, your tone! Ugh, I’m spewing pink bubbles, drowning in love-brain light—”
“He’s not used to relying on other spheres… but it’s not impossible.”
The sphere paused, silver light quivering, rare silence, then it clutched its heart and tumbled in delight:
“Please… are you even leaving this other sphere a chance? So considerate and handsome… I’m afraid Milton will just be seduced right here and ascend on the spot…”
Gu Qing did not respond, only leaning over to cover Milton with a coat, then sat cross-legged in meditation.
That night, he did only one thing:
Not deceive him.
Not hurt him.
Even if Milton never trusts him.
Even if no one sees this vigil.
He quietly stayed, until dawn.