A lamp stood beside the bed, its paper lantern painted with peach blossoms. The dark red shadow of the flowers fell across Li Lanxiu’s pale neck. He didn’t react at all after being kissed, his eyes closed, breath warm and slow.
Chu Yue savored the sweetness on his tongue. The lingering flavor trickled down into his throat. His breath turned ragged. A deep, burning flame flared in his eyes. He lowered his head and kissed him again.
He kissed him with desperate urgency. His nose bumped the edge of Li Lanxiu’s mask, creating a sharp pain in his nose bridge, but he paid it no mind. He stuck out his tongue and licked at Li Lanxiu’s lips like a starving man stumbling upon sweet spring dew.
Those soft, fragrant lips were dragged back and forth under his tongue, left glistening with a wet shine. Their swollen red tint gave them an almost obscene allure.
Chu Yue’s breath grew ragged and loud. His chest heaved violently. All at once, he captured the lips he had long yearned for between his teeth—soft, slick flesh caught against his sharp canines. He nearly couldn’t stop himself from biting down. He wanted to break the skin, taste Li Lanxiu’s blood, punish him savagely…make him remember to never to flirt with anyone else again.
Li Lanxiu’s eyelids trembled slightly. His sleep was restless. He slowly opened his eyes and stared at the face so close before him.
Chu Yue looked into those damp, hazy eyes, then pulled back slightly and said, “Young Master, I’ve come to help you change.”
Li Lanxiu weakly shoved at his face and rolled onto his back, eyes shut again, continuing to rest.
Chu Yue stood and supported the back of his neck with one hand as he slipped off his outer robe and hung it on the rack beside the bed.
He moved to the end of the bed and smoothed out the rumpled quilt Li Lanxiu had kicked into waves.
Then he knelt on one knee at the foot of the bed, lowered his head and gently touched his lips to the light brown mole on the top of Li Lanxiu’s foot. A faint scent of cold milk spread across his tongue like sweetness seeping into his heart.
The foot before him was delicate and lean, fine bones glowing with a soft luster, its texture like snowy jade. The toes were pointed and pink, as if painted with rouge, tantalizing in their charm.
He stared at Li Lanxiu’s half-closed eyes. His thin lips trailed along the top of his foot in a slow, reverent glide, savoring the smoothness of every inch of skin with a devotion and solemnity that resembled a disciple worshipping his deity.
Li Lanxiu remained entirely unaware of it all.
The next morning, Li Lanxiu sat up in bed. He turned to rest his feet on the footrest and squinted in thought. Last night, dancers had surrounded him one after another, plying him with wine.
He wasn’t one to indulge in drink or lust. It was just that…that old man’s death had left too vivid an image. That hollow head was so clear and so real.
He had always been cold-blooded. Back when he killed those black-clad men to save Chu Yue, it took no effort at all. A wave of his fan had ended more than ten lives, and he hadn’t felt the slightest discomfort.
Anyone who sat down at a gambling table had already chosen life or death for themselves.
But the carnage from last night made him realize—ordinary people had no choice in the matter.
These innocent commoners were dragged into conflict, their fates adrift, life and death decided by others.
His purpose in coming to Dream Immortal City had been simple: to uproot the threat the Red Sect had buried in this city, to preserve the lives of its people, and force the Red Sect to wreak havoc elsewhere.
Last night, the moment he thought of those deaths, bile had risen in his throat. Only wine dulled it enough to suppress the nausea.
Now that the drink had worn off, his mind was unusually clear. In this world, he was the only one capable of stopping the Red Sect’s killing.
He could choose to stand by and watch—wait until the nations of West Lumine and Dongyue were bled dry, until the child of destiny took up their fate to save the common people.
But if he had the power, had the means, and still chose to do nothing, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.
Someone had to act. And if not him, then there was no one.
After thinking for a while, Li Lanxiu rose, dressed and headed out to meet with Lord Xu.
If he wanted to stop the Red Sect from killing again, he first had to understand what they were doing. But everyone who’d seen the Red Sect was already dead. That left him only one option: to ask the dead.
In this world, the living and the dead walked separate paths. In the original book, very few people could communicate with ghosts. One of them was a ghost cultivator named Ming Changsheng, a close friend of Chu Yue’s who appeared later in the story to fight alongside him and Gu Zhengxing.
Ming Changsheng had been born in the country of Dongyue, during a yin year, yin month, and yin hour—a twin birth that had frightened the midwife into fainting on the spot.
A twin birth was supposed to be a joyous thing, but Ming Changsheng and his brother had been conjoined, sharing a single back. They looked like monsters—everyone who saw them was terrified.
His younger brother had died at birth, but their bloodline remained connected. Though the body was dead, it did not rot; though the soul had scattered, it did not depart. It lingered, attaching itself to the elder brother like a ghostly parasite.
Twins naturally shared their senses; born of yin and bound together, their fusion made Ming Changsheng’s cultivation of ghost arts practically heaven-sent. From the moment of birth, he had been a genius of the ghost path.
At the moment, though, Ming Changsheng was probably still a rookie just starting out on the ghost path. It was unclear how formidable his talent really was.
City Lord Xu was speaking with Chu Yue in the pavilion. When he saw Li Lanxiu hurrying over, he called out, “Li-xianzhang!”
Chu Yue stood up and looked at him. “Young Master, did you sleep well last night?”
Li Lanxiu nodded, stepped into the pavilion and sat down. “City Lord Xu, I need your help finding someone.”
“What sort of person is the Young Master looking for?” Chu Yue casually pulled out a lock of black hair from inside his collar and smoothed it with his fingers.
City Lord Xu spoke solemnly. “Xianzhang, just say the word. No matter how difficult it is, I will do everything I can.”
Li Lanxiu opened his Coldiron Fan and smiled faintly. “He’s easy to find. He’s a man carrying a coffin on his back.”
A few days later, on a small street in Dreamsaint City, the shops selling rice, flour, grain and oil opened one after another. Because of the turmoil caused by the Red Faith, families had shut their doors and the whole street had gone quiet for a time.
But ever since that unfathomable immortal appeared, the people in the city had calmed down and the small street returned to its usual bustle.
Street vendors carried steaming baskets of buns and shouted advertisements for their wares. The smell was mouthwatering, and the hawkers' cries rose and fell in waves.
Children ran around laughing, holding freshly bought sugar figures and chirping noisily.
A young man with a refined and handsome face walked in from the street corner. The playing children all scattered. The ones who didn’t move fast enough were scooped up by their parents and carried far away.
A nearby vendor pointed at him and cursed. “Trying to die? Coming out in broad daylight—don’t you know that’s bad luck?”
The young man wore plain clothes. His long robe had faded from too much washing and was patched in places. A pitch-black coffin made of ebony was strapped to his back. The coffin was tall and wide, carved with intricate talismanic patterns and secured to him with several sturdy straps.
“Coffin brat! Even a funeral needs a proper date. We just opened for business and you’ve already ruined our luck!”
“Look at that miserable face. Heard you’re trying to draw talismans now. If you want to exorcise demons, maybe start with yourself!”
Ming Changsheng was used to it, and ignored them as he walked into a rice shop. He pulled out a cloth bag and a few copper coins and handed them to the shop assistant.
The assistant pulled out a clamp from under the counter and, keeping his distance, used it to take the coins and cloth bag. “You’re only buying this little bit of rice?”
Ming Changsheng nodded silently. The assistant tossed the coins into the drawer with a grimace and used the clamp to fill the bag with rice.
Outside the shop, a commotion erupted. Two figures, one older and one younger, appeared on the street. They were Li Xuanzhen and Jiang Zhuo, out on patrol. As soon as they appeared, the surrounding townspeople gathered to greet them.
“Xianzhang, are you the one who stirred the clouds and summoned the rain?”
“You’ve got the wrong person. I heard that xianzhang wears a mask. This is his companion.”
“Xianzhang, these are buns my wife made. Thin skin, full stuffing. Please bring them to the cloud-stirring xianzhang.”
A vendor shoved a paper-wrapped bun toward Li Xuanzhen with a hopeful expression.
“This is a sugar figurine from my family…”
“Our sesame cakes are the best. Please, xianzhang…”
Li Xuanzhen took a deep breath and smiled. “I’ve already started fasting and don’t eat worldly food. Your kindness is noted. Protecting the people is our duty. There’s no need to thank me.”
With that, he flicked his sleeve. The crowd felt a wave of force push them aside, clearing a path.
Jiang Zhuo frowned slightly and followed behind him. “Xuanzhen-daoxiong, these people just want to thank Li Lanxiu. Why be like this?”
Li Xuanzhen strode ahead with his hands clasped behind his back. “We came to track down traces of the Red Sect and better protect the city. Their delay could hinder our mission. If we don’t act decisively, who knows how much time we’ll waste?”
At the mention of the mission, Jiang Zhuo’s expression turned serious. “We’ve patrolled the city for days without seeing a trace of the Red Sect. Could it be they aren’t in Dreamsaint City?”
“The Red Sect excels at concealment. If they are here, they will be well hidden. How could we find them so easily?”
As Li Xuanzhen spoke and walked forward, he happened to bump into Ming Changsheng exiting the rice shop. He raised his hand slightly and sensed a chill of yin energy from the coffin. He lowered his voice. “This person seems suspicious.”
Jiang Zhuo gave Ming Changsheng a once-over and also sensed a chilly, ghostly aura. “Hmm, a cultivator of the ghost-commanding path.”
Even within Daoist sects, cultivators were ranked by class, and those who cultivated the ghost-commanding path were rare and belonged to the most unorthodox, disreputable branches.
Li Xuanzhen thought for a moment. “Why would a ghost-controller carry a coffin? I don’t think what’s in that coffin is anything simple.”
“What are you getting at, Xuanzhen-daoxiong?” Jiang Zhuo raised an eyebrow and asked.
Li Xuanzhen took a few steps toward Ming Changsheng and spoke with an open smile. “Fellow Daoist, please wait. I am a disciple of Loftcloud Sect, tasked with guarding this city. I sensed something unusual about the coffin on your back. Would you mind opening it for us to see?”
Ming Changsheng shook his head in refusal and walked forward without a word.
“Fellow Daoist.” Li Xuanzhen took a step and flew ahead to block his path. He lost his smile and said, “Please open the coffin and let us take a look.”
Jiang Zhuo stepped up, looked Ming Changsheng over again and said, “Please open the coffin for us to see.”
Ming Changsheng paused, then finally spoke slowly. “I have no connection to the Red Sect. What’s in the coffin is my secret treasure.”
Nearby passersby chimed in.
“Secret treasure? You’re so poor you creak when you walk. What secret treasure could you have?”
“Xianzhang, he’s been here for years, always carrying that coffin. He never says what’s inside. I think something’s wrong with it too.”
“There’s definitely something wrong with that coffin. Otherwise, why wouldn’t he dare to open it?”
Li Xuanzhen’s expression turned cold. He stared at Ming Changsheng and said, “Please open the coffin for us to see.”
Ming Changsheng took a step back. An embarrassed look appeared on his expressionless face as he lowered his voice and explained, “What’s inside the coffin is not fit for others to see. Please understand.”
“We disciples of the Daoist sects are not like the disgraceful Red Sect. What is there that cannot be shown to others?” Li Xuanzhen pressed forward aggressively, step by step. “Fellow Daoist, please open the coffin.”
Ming Changsheng backed up several steps. Jiang Zhuo blocked his retreat, standing with arms crossed behind him. “Let us take a look. If it’s a misunderstanding, we’ll apologize.”
“…No.” Ming Changsheng gripped the coffin straps tightly and shook his head in firm refusal. “I can’t open it.”
Li Xuanzhen sensed that he was only at the Foundation Establishment stage and no match for a Loftcloud Sect disciple. He suddenly flicked his finger. “Forgive me, fellow Daoist.”
With a loud bang, the coffin lid on Ming Changsheng’s back flew open. Inside lay a corpse identical to Ming Changsheng. The bottom of the coffin had been hollowed out, and the back of the corpse was fused with Ming Changsheng’s, forming a pair of conjoined twins.
Jiang Zhuo froze, then turned his face away and murmured, “Sorry.”
Ming Changsheng’s face turned pale, bloodless. He hurried to lift the fallen coffin lid, but the coffin was strapped to his back, and he couldn’t replace the lid without help.
Holding the lid in both hands, he tried again and again in panicked confusion. The coffin lid crashed to the ground repeatedly with loud bang—bang—bang sounds, like the fists of fate pounding down on him.
After several futile attempts, Ming Changsheng finally dropped to his knees. He raised the lid and tried to push it back from behind, murmuring softly, “Don’t be afraid, little brother. I’m here with you.”
Curses from the crowd surged like waves. His ears rang with shrill shouting:
“Get out of here! You’re a walking curse!”
“No wonder he carries a coffin around all day—he’s a freak. Did you bring the Red Sect here?”
“Go! Get out! Leave!”
Ming Changsheng knelt on the ground, his face white as paper. He gripped the coffin lid tightly, eyes half closed, entirely focused on maneuvering it into place. Just then, a pair of hands caught the lid and effortlessly placed it back over the coffin.
Ming Changsheng opened his eyes and looked up. At some point, the crowd had parted to make way.
A tall, elegant figure stood before him. The person bent down and extended a slender, fair hand, flawless like jade and amber. A gentle, pleasant voice said softly, “Stand up.”
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