Hearing Yue Chenqing call out like this, Jiang Yexue immediately looked toward Murong Chuyi, while Mo Xi turned back to Yue Chenqing. “Is he having a nightmare?”
Yue Chenqing was curled up beneath the cloak, with only a small lock of ink-black hair showing. His murmuring became increasingly choked with sobs.
“Fourth Uncle… don’t be angry…” he whimpered. “Don’t blame me. Don’t ignore me…”
Murong Chuyi disliked having any sort of emotional interaction with people. Thus, although Yue Chenqing was clearly calling for him in his dream, he pretended not to hear and continued meditating with his eyes closed.
But Yue Chenqing seemed to be suffering terribly from the nightmare. Not only did his murmuring fail to stop, it grew increasingly frequent. By the end, the confusion and pain in his voice had almost become tangible.
The young man, still carrying traces of childishness, sobbed, “Fourth Uncle…”
“…”
Murong Chuyi frowned and remained still for a moment. Finally, he could not endure it any longer. He rose, swept out his wide sleeve, and drifted gracefully to Yue Chenqing’s side before sitting down beside him.
He lowered his head. His handsome face, as clear and cold as moonlight shining upon a frozen lake, was plainly reluctant and rather impatient. Yet in the end, he still lifted the garment covering Yue Chenqing and placed his porcelain-jade hand against Yue Chenqing’s forehead.
The moment he touched him, Murong Chuyi’s expression changed slightly.
Jiang Yexue asked, “How is he?”
Murong Chuyi said, “A high fever.”
Although fever from a cold was nothing particularly serious to cultivators, and sometimes a single dose of medicine could cure it immediately, Yue Chenqing’s condition was not optimistic.
Jiang Yexue went over, first carefully tucking the cloak around Yue Chenqing, then raising his hand to feel Yue Chenqing’s temperature as well. The moment he touched him, his heart jolted.
“He’s so hot…”
“He shouldn’t have a fever.” Murong Chuyi lowered his head and looked at Yue Chenqing’s flushed face. “When I saved him just now, I used the Sacred Heart Technique.”
Mo Xi suddenly raised his eyes toward Murong Chuyi. The Sacred Heart Technique—that wasn’t…
Jiang Yexue’s expression also turned grim. “Little Uncle, how could you…”
Murong Chuyi said coldly, “How could I what?”
“That is a forbidden technique!”
“So what?”
Jiang Yexue: “…”
Expecting Murong Chuyi to obey the laws of Chonghua Kingdom was like expecting a carp to live on land. It was simply impossible.
The Sacred Heart Technique was a forbidden medical cultivation technique. It could heal a severely wounded body in an extremely short period of time, while also ensuring that the recipient would not contract acute illnesses that weakened the body, such as colds or malaria, for three days. In short, its effects were powerful and its method simple and brutal. Even those who did not specialize in the medical path could master it with relative ease.
Logically speaking, such miraculous healing arts ought to have been widely promoted. But no person was perfect, and no technique was flawless. The Sacred Heart Technique had an extremely terrifying flaw: it placed exceptionally high demands on the caster’s state of mind.
The so-called “sacred heart” meant that one’s heart must be pure and unstained, holy and immaculate. When saving someone, the caster’s mind had to be utterly pure, without the slightest distracting thought or emotional fluctuation. Otherwise, the caster’s own heart meridians would inevitably be damaged.
In mild cases, one would suffer a severe depletion of vital energy. In serious cases, one would die on the spot.
Jiang Yexue knew there was no point reasoning with him, so he asked worriedly, “Then what about your body…”
Murong Chuyi ignored Jiang Yexue and simply lowered his head to feel the pulse in Yue Chenqing’s neck. After a while, he opened his closed phoenix eyes and said, “The Sacred Heart Technique can eliminate colds and fever caused by all ordinary factors, yet Yue Chenqing has still developed a high fever.”
Jiang Yexue said, “…Is it because of the Gu worm?”
Murong Chuyi did not answer, but his sword-like brows could not help drawing together slightly.
There could be no other explanation. It was indeed because of the Gu worm. But a creature that even the Sacred Heart Spell could not suppress would surely be extremely troublesome to deal with. At present, they knew nothing about the characteristics of this Gu worm, so they could only wait until Gu Mang returned and hope that he might have a solution.
“Let’s wait for now.” Murong Chuyi touched Yue Chenqing’s forehead and, at the same time, smoothed the disheveled hair at his temple. “We’ll wait until Gu Mang returns.”
There was nothing else they could do. The three of them could only guard Yue Chenqing while recovering through meditation and silently waiting for Gu Mang to return in the cavern.
Among them, Mo Xi had the greatest innate aptitude. In addition, he had merely lost spiritual power and part of his primordial spirit because of the Time Mirror and had not suffered much actual injury. Thus, within less than an hour, he had already recovered eighty percent.
Mo Xi opened his eyes and saw that Murong Chuyi and Jiang Yexue were still in their weakened states, meditating to cultivate their qi. Murong Chuyi in particular had a face as cold and pale as ice jade. The color in his lips had not returned; instead, they had become even more bluish-white.
He sensed that something was wrong. Rising, he walked to Murong Chuyi’s side and knelt beside him.
“Mr. Murong?”
“…”
Murong Chuyi did not answer. Spiritual currents surged between his brows, and his sword-like brows were deeply furrowed, with a faint trace of pain on his face.
Mo Xi reached out to probe him and was startled to discover that his spiritual energy was in disorder, showing signs that he might be developing qi deviation. He immediately placed two fingers against the side of Murong Chuyi’s forehead and sent his own spiritual power into Murong Chuyi’s body.
“Cough, cough, cough!”
After quite some time, Murong Chuyi leaned forward and suddenly coughed up a mouthful of stagnant blood!
He emerged from his meditative state and slowly raised his eyes, looking somewhat unfocused at Mo Xi’s face.
A moment later, Murong Chuyi came back to his senses. He abruptly lowered his lashes, wiped away the blood, and said hoarsely, “…Thank you.”
Mo Xi knew that he was cold and solitary by nature and had originally not wanted to say much. But seeing how weak he was, he eventually pressed his lips together and said, “You should have felt it yourself. First, you went alone to draw the fire bats away. Then you recklessly used the Sacred Heart Technique. Even your heart meridians were damaged. Under these circumstances, forcing yourself to meditate and recover your strength would only make it easier for you to fall prey to inner demons. Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”
Murong Chuyi said, “There was nothing to say.”
“…”
“As for my condition, I ask that Lord Xihe keep it confidential for me.” Murong Chuyi said, “I don’t want more people to know. Whether it is Yue Chenqing, or…”
He paused and glanced at Jiang Yexue, who was meditating and gathering his qi.
“Or him.”
There was something rather strange about that look.
Everyone said that Chi Xian was a cold and otherworldly person, untouched by worldly affairs. He usually secluded himself in meditation and rarely interacted with others. Mo Xi had previously only known that his attitude toward his two nephews was poor, but after spending time with him these past few times, he could sense that there was a clear difference between Murong Chuyi’s hostility toward Jiang Yexue and toward Yue Chenqing.
As an elder, although Murong Chuyi usually could not be bothered with Yue Chenqing and was too lazy to waste words on him, if Yue Chenqing really pestered him enough, acted spoiled, or praised him enthusiastically, Murong Chuyi would still spare him a glance or give a dismissive hum.
Moreover, Murong Chuyi was willing to use a forbidden technique for Yue Chenqing, even suffering injury because of it.
This meant that, no matter what, Yue Chenqing at least occupied some small place in Murong Chuyi’s heart.
But Jiang Yexue was different.
Perhaps it was because back then, Murong Chuyi’s elder sister, Murong Huang, had served the same husband as Jiang Yexue’s mother. Murong Huang had suffered no small amount of hardship because of Jiang Yexue’s mother, and thus Murong Chuyi regarded Jiang Yexue with outright hostility.
Not only hostility.
Hatred as well.
And even some other kind of emotion… Mo Xi could not put it into words, but he always felt that there were even more obscure negative emotions lingering in Murong Chuyi’s eyes.
“Fourth Uncle… it hurts…”
Another faint murmur drifted over. Amid the feverish haze, Yue Chenqing helplessly mumbled, “My head… hurts so much…”
Murong Chuyi glanced toward the child curled up in the corner. Yue Chenqing called for him for a while, quietly sobbing. Then, with a hoarse voice, he suddenly murmured again, “Mother… Mama…”
Murong Chuyi instantly froze.
Ever since Mo Xi had known him, he had always maintained that detached, otherworldly appearance, seemingly indifferent to human warmth and coldness, life and death, joy and anger. His clear, white-jade face rarely showed any ripples of emotion.
But at this moment, Murong Chuyi’s face seemed to carry a thousand layers of emotions and endless entanglements.
He gritted his teeth, looking both resentful and furious.
“You’re always useless, and you never listen. What face do you have to call for her again?”
Yet he still took Yue Chenqing’s trembling hand.
The boy’s body temperature was frighteningly high. Murong Chuyi clasped his fingers, and a trace of heartache and sadness flashed across his stern face. In the end, he coaxed him stiffly.
“All right. It’s fine now.”
Yue Chenqing continued murmuring in his dream.
“It hurts…”
“With me here, you’ll get better.”
“It hurts so much…”
Murong Chuyi’s sword-like brows shot upward. His compassion finally reached its limit.
“Endure it!”
Mo Xi: “…”
After another stretch of time, Jiang Yexue’s spiritual power had more or less recovered as well. He slowly opened his eyes from meditation and looked around.
“Brother Gu still hasn’t returned?”
Mo Xi said, “Not yet.”
Jiang Yexue also went over to Yue Chenqing’s side. But since Murong Chuyi was already there, there was no place for him to stay, nor was he the person who should be holding Yue Chenqing’s hand.
He had always held this position in the Yue family. It had been this way before he left, and it remained this way now.
Whether as his little uncle or as his brother, he was always the one pushed to the very edge—dispensable, neither here nor there.
Jiang Yexue had already grown accustomed to it. Still, his gaze lingered for a moment longer on the hand being held by Murong Chuyi. There was plainly a trace of dejection in his eyes before he finally said, “If his fever rises again… perhaps I could use the Sacred Heart Technique one more time. Maybe I could—”
Before he could finish, a burst of hurried footsteps suddenly rang out from outside the cavern.
“We’re back! We’re back!”
Gu Mang rushed into the cavern, and behind him, a half-transformed little yao followed hesitantly. It hid behind Gu Mang, poking its head out and looking around cautiously.
This was completely beyond the three men’s expectations.
After all, when Gu Mang had left, he had said he was going to “catch a yao and bring it back.” But judging from the scene before them, this little yao did not look like something Gu Mang had “caught” at all. It looked as though it had willingly “followed” him back.
Not only was it following him, it was even clutching the corner of Gu Mang’s sleeve with a tiny, fluffy brown paw, looking as though it had ventured deep into the tiger’s den and believed that Gu Mang was the only one it could trust.
If Yue Chenqing had been awake at this moment, he would definitely have asked: Bro, did you drug it?
Fortunately, none of the three men present were the sort to ask such a question.
Mo Xi stared at that little paw for a while. The little yao had only revealed itself for a moment when it first entered the cavern. After that, it stayed pressed tightly against Gu Mang, shrinking its tiny body behind him and refusing to show itself at all.
Gu Mang exhaled.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. There are many yaos on the island, but very few of them know the truth. And Wuyan has been searching everywhere for our whereabouts, so it took some effort.” He glanced toward Yue Chenqing. “How is Young Master Yue?”
“He has a fever. It should be caused by the Gu worm flaring up.” Murong Chuyi paused, his gaze also sweeping toward the figure behind Gu Mang. “Who did you bring back?”
“Oh.” Gu Mang smiled. He raised the little paw tightly clutching him and waved it slightly. “Rongrong, come over. These are the people I just told you about.”
After a brief silence, half of a little face cautiously emerged from behind Gu Mang, then quickly withdrew again.
Gu Mang turned around and comforted her. “It’s all right. No one is going to hit you.”
Only then did the little yao slowly and timidly step out from behind Gu Mang.
It turned out to be a young female yao. It was difficult to tell her exact age, but judging solely from her figure, she appeared to be about sixteen or seventeen in human years. Looking more closely, she was not a bat at all. Covering her petite body were yellow-brown, soft bird feathers.
“Her name is Rongrong. She’s a little celestial bird, not a yao.” Gu Mang smiled as he explained. “Come, Rongrong. This is Murong Chuyi, Brother Murong. This is Jiang Yexue, Brother Jiang. And this…”
He looked at Mo Xi without deliberately avoiding him, his smile remaining unchanged.
“This is Mo Xi, Brother Mo. They’re all good people. Go say hello to them.”
Rongrong seemed both timid and shy. She kept her head lowered. Only after hearing Gu Mang say this did she slowly raise her face.
She had the delicate beauty of a girl in the flower of her youth, with a face so lovely it could make flowers hide in shame. Her beautiful eyes were bright and expressive, her lips naturally rosy without any vermilion applied to them. At the center of her smooth, fair forehead were three naturally formed red markings shaped like flower stamens.
In a soft, timid voice, she said, “I-I’m called A-Rong. I’m not some celestial bird. I’m just… I’m a half-immortal of the Feathered People tribe of Jiuhua Mountain…”