Gu Zhengxing lowered his eyes. The blood-red coral bead lay nestled in a clean, delicate hand—its palm tinged with a soft pink hue, porcelain-like in the candlelight, exuding a fragile kind of beauty. He had lost. And a wager lost must be honored.
He reached out to take the bead, but Li Lanxiu suddenly curled his fingers around it, lazily twisting his wrist so that his palm turned downward.
As though unwilling to touch him, even for a moment.
Gu Zhengxing held his hand beneath Li Lanxiu’s, and only then did the other’s fingers loosen. A warm bead dropped into his palm.
A soft, languid chuckle escaped at the same time—short and fleeting, like the tail end of a dream, leaving an odd sense of longing behind.
He slowly closed his fingers around the bead. It was warm. In his icy, death-chilled hand, it felt almost scalding. So hot it evoked—
A feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time.
The feeling of being alive.
Seeing him accept the bead, Li Lanxiu quietly let out a breath, withdrew his hand and asked, “Did you bring the spirit stones?”
Gu Zhengxing instinctively clenched the coral tighter. That sense of life began to freeze again, little by little. He took a breath, then looked up. “I did.”
Li Lanxiu turned and strolled toward the entrance of the gambling den, calling over his shoulder, “Come with me. We’ll trade outside—stones for the goods.”
Gu Zhengxing stood up. He was just about to toss the bead away and reach for the red parasol leaning against the table, when he hesitated.
Glancing down at his closed palm, he changed his mind and picked up the parasol with the other hand.
***
Far away, in the cold spring pool of Conundrum Sect, Bai Ying suddenly opened their eyes.
In the grip of heat and desire, their pupils had contracted to a thin slit, betraying the beast within.
Their long silver hair spilled loosely over their shoulders. That ordinarily sharp, ascetic face—one that should have seemed ethereal and untouchable—was drawn tight with tension. Their breath came in heavy bursts, lips tightly pressed together, their entire being caught in the throes of desire.
Bai Ying sucked in a few shallow breaths, then shut their eyes again. They began chanting a heart-clearing spell under their breath, forcing their mind into a cold, disciplined stillness.
In the past, they had only ever used the heart-clearing spell in their most agitated and delirious states. It was a top-tier mental cultivation method, capable of instantly calming the spirit and sending one into a state devoid of emotion or desire.
Once the spell was activated, their mind became still as water. All thoughts ceased to exist. It felt as though nothing in the world concerned them anymore—only their own true self remained.
This spell allowed cultivators to swiftly regain inner balance. No matter the temptation or emotional turbulence, they could remain utterly unmoved.
“Until the utmost void, uphold the deepest stillness, all things arise…”
As the incantation stirred within them, their thoughts gradually settled. They closed their eyes.
Li Lanxiu’s robes had slipped down to his arms. One hand held a dice cup, which he shook absentmindedly. The exposed skin of his arm was pale and smooth. His chin tilted slightly upward. There was a deep, knowing glint in his gaze.
Everyone in the gambling den was watching him. Li Lanxiu seemed unaware of just how alluring he was, completely unconcerned with the eyes on him, letting his charm blaze unchecked.
Bai Ying’s eyelids twitched. They laughed quietly in their heart. Li Lanxiu knew what would happen, knew it perfectly well. Otherwise, how could he have dared to make that kind of request?
How would he have dared to openly provoke a ghost with an unknown origin? A ghost who had been dead for who knew how many years.
Through the sparrow’s eyes, they could sense the heavy, chilling aura of yin energy. Yet Li Lanxiu dared to wager his life against this vengeful ghost.
All he was relying on was his charm and confidence, gambling that the ghost wouldn’t turn on him.
Bai Ying’s tongue couldn’t help but run over their lips. They recalled the sensation of that day. The skin at Li Lanxiu’s neck had been delicate and cool, like fine silk gliding over lips and tongue, bringing an indescribable pleasure.
That patch of skin had been cold yet soft. A subtle pulse could be felt beneath it. Each pass of their tongue had carried a scent that seeped deep into their bones.
They wanted more. They wanted to possess him. They wanted to leave a mark upon his body that belonged to them alone.
Bai Ying’s body burned intensely. All the heat in their system surged toward a single point. The restless heat felt like a volcano on the verge of erupting, tormenting them from within.
The heart-clearing spell had failed.
They suddenly sat up in the cold pool, a wave of overwhelming agitation tightening their brows into a deep frown.
Bai Ying hesitated, then opened their eyes and looked down at a certain clearly visible part of their body. Their blood-red eyes narrowed slowly, a flicker of shame and irritation passing through them.
“…”
They grew even more irritable.
According to the rules of the Four Seas Commerce Guild’s cultivation market, the market would take a fee from every transaction made on its premises. The fee wasn’t high, and it served to protect the interests of both parties and prevent future disputes.
In the quiet private booth, Gu Zhengxing retrieved a pitch-black qiankun pouch from the ghost-head ring and handed it to the watching market master nearby.
A clerk from the market brought out the spirit-reflecting mirror, a bronze mirror the size of a palm. When pointed at a spirit stone, it reflected the intensity of spiritual energy within. It was much faster than a cultivator sensing each one by hand.
The market master took a spirit stone from the black pouch and suddenly froze. The stone was dark as ink, glowing faintly with a bluish hue.
“This is… a ghost-path spirit stone, isn’t it?” the market master asked cautiously, placing it on the table at once.
Gu Zhengxing sat at the table and asked indifferently, “Does it make a difference?”
Li Lanxiu picked up the spirit stone and toyed with it in his hand. The icy chill made it feel like he was holding a block of ice.
“Young Master Li, put that down quickly. There’s a ghost inside. It’s unclean,” the market master leaned in and whispered beside him.
Li Lanxiu gave a soft laugh and placed the stone back on the table.
The market master picked up the spirit-reflecting mirror, stepped a few paces away and held it up to the spirit stone. The reflected light passed through the stone, scattering into a strange bluish glow, revealing thick traces of yin energy.
Faint blue faces emerged in the light, layer upon layer, countless in number.
“This is a top-grade ghost-path spirit stone!”
Ghost-path spirit stones referred to spirit stones from the ghost realm, much like underworld currency in the human realm. They were treasures for ghost-taming cultivation and could also be used to refine high-grade yin techniques and ghost tools.
Because of their rarity, they were worth more than the finest spirit stones in the human realm.
There were one hundred top-grade ghost-path spirit stones in the qiankun pouch Gu Zhengxing provided. After checking them one by one, the market master’s eyes turned red with greed. Reluctantly, he handed the pouch to Li Lanxiu. “Young Master Li, this offer far exceeds ten thousand high-grade spirit stones.”
Li Lanxiu weighed the pouch in his hand and tossed one stone back to the market master. “A reward for you.”
The market master was overjoyed. “Thank you, Young Master Li!”
Gu Zhengxing paused and said, “My yao core.”
Li Lanxiu took out the yao core and handed it to the market master, who accepted it with both hands and passed it to Gu Zhengxing.
Gu Zhengxing brought the core to his mouth and swept his spiritual sense over it before putting it away. He said calmly, “It is indeed a five-hundred-year yao core.” He stood and looked at Li Lanxiu, lowering his gaze. “When will you take my life?”
Li Lanxiu curled a finger at him, pale and smooth as jade. Gu Zhengxing rarely leaned in to speak with anyone. The way he inclined his head now seemed almost deferential. His gaze slid from the soft white curve of Li Lanxiu’s ear to the faint shimmer of the peacock feather in his dark hair. He leaned in. “Speak.”
Li Lanxiu’s just-curled finger brushed lightly against the brim of Gu Zhengxing’s veiled hat. His fingertip traced it carelessly. “Depends on my mood.”
Gu Zhengxing frowned. Suddenly, a corner of the black veil was lifted. Li Lanxiu slipped beneath it, drawing in close, his warm breath brushing across Gu Zhengxing’s face.
Under the veil, the space was cramped and intimate. Li Lanxiu’s mask nearly touched his face. His eyes glowed clearly in the darkness like some kind of soul-stealing spirit of the wild.
Gu Zhengxing instinctively began to retreat, then suddenly stopped. There was a strange sensation in his chest, where his heart should be. The dead had no heartbeat, so there should be no quickening.
It was a false sensation.
But the long-lost feeling made him freeze. He spoke calmly. “What are you doing?”
“Taking your life.” Li Lanxiu’s eyes swept across his face. He enunciated slowly and clearly. “Depends on my mood—and your behavior.”
His warm breath thickened between each word, mingling with a faint, cool and elegant fragrance.
Gu Zhengxing lowered his gaze to the mask’s lips and remembered how Li Lanxiu had once breathed into a girl’s palm—lips red, teeth white, like snow resting on a rose.
After speaking, Li Lanxiu pulled back.
The black veil of the hat dropped at once. Gu Zhengxing, as if possessed, leaned slightly forward. But the warmth and fragrance had already vanished without a trace.
Li Lanxiu placed a message talisman on the table. “I’ll contact you when I need you.”
Gu Zhengxing picked up the talisman and tucked it away, silent as he walked out the door. Outside the immortal market, a pitch-black palanquin waited at the ferry dock—a low-profile vessel amid the drifting spiritual auras of other flying artifacts.
He stepped onto the palanquin and took his seat. It rose into the air without a sound, gradually vanishing into the clear midday sky.
Before long, the palanquin descended into a shadowy, gloomy valley.
Cold winds howled through the valley, and pale green mist clung to the ground. Within the fog stood two ghost messengers, faces twisted and fearsome—one held the Book of Life and Death, while the other wielded a soul-hooking staff.
Behind them loomed a massive ghostly sedan borne on the shoulders of a faceless ghost archer. Ghost-fire curtains swayed from the sedan, veiling the interior in flickering shadows.
Gu Zhengxing approached. The curtains lifted of their own accord. He stepped inside and seated himself in a leisurely manner.
The two ghost messengers stepped forward and knelt at the front of the sedan, speaking in hushed voices. “Greetings, Ghost King.”
“What news do you bring?” Gu Zhengxing asked, his gaze sweeping over them.
The one with the Book of Life and Death replied quietly, “Ghost King, three days ago, Goldmoon City in the country of West Lumine was massacred. The death toll is estimated at two hundred thousand—but not a single soul was found.”
Gu Zhengxing’s brows knit slightly. “Not a single soul?”
The ghost messenger nodded, his expression solemn. “Indeed. All souls and corpses within the city have vanished without a trace. We suspect foul play.”
“Who slaughtered the people in the city?”
“The Red Sect. We investigated them, but found no trace of the souls.”
Gu Zhengxing frowned in silence, deep in thought. At last, he looked up. “Keep searching. Find out who dared to meddle with the souls that belong to my underworld.”
The ghost messengers immediately kowtowed, striking the ground with their foreheads. “As you command, Ghost King.”
The curtains slowly fell once more.
Gu Zhengxing opened his palm. Resting in the center was a bright coral bead. He picked it up lightly and brought it to his nose, inhaling its scent.
***
At the same time, Bai Ying rose from the cold pool and stopped reciting the useless tranquility mantra.
They had always been a highly perceptive Dao seed. Their thoughts were now tangled only because of Li Lanxiu. They wanted him. They couldn’t help it. If they kept suppressing the desire, it would only lead to further torment.
Better to follow their heart.
The palace lights on Violetstage Peak glowed as Bai Ying, dressed in an ethereal white robe, floated over.
The maid they had seen earlier stood by the steps. When she saw them, she came forward with a smile. “Xianzhang, you’ve come.”
Bai Ying glanced at the half-open palace doors where light spilled through and gave a slight nod.
Miaosu smiled and continued. “My Young Master said you’d be arriving soon and told me to wait for you here.”
Bai Ying pressed their thin lips together. Their calm expression carried a faint trace of displeasure. “No need to lead the way. I’ll go in myself.”
“I’m not here to lead the way,” Miaosu said after a pause, lowering her voice. “Young Master asked me to remind you of what he said—”
“When he says stop, you stop. You must listen to him. Otherwise, you’re not going in.”
Bai Ying nodded with a light air and took a few steps to the door. With a wave of their sleeve, the palace doors opened on their own.
The scene inside made them pause slightly.
In the bright, spacious hall, there were only two people. A maid danced playfully in the center while Li Lanxiu sat on the floor, his back resting against a crimson pillar. In front of him sat a small, antique drum.
He held the drumsticks and played an accompaniment for the dancing maid. His robe hung loosely from his body, damp black hair draped over his shoulders. Droplets of water glistened under the lights, and his bare feet rested on the crimson carpet.
His ankle swayed with the beat of the drum, and his golden anklet rang with a pleasant chiming. Under the candlelight, it glinted against his pale skin, making it shine even more brightly.
That stifling sense of humiliation from being forced to bow to another vanished in an instant.
Bai Ying’s thoughts cleared all at once. They curled their lips into a soft, mocking smile. If they were to bow to Li Lanxiu, what shame was there in that?
It was clearly a beautiful act.
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