The guard led Gu Zhengxing through the pavilions and winding corridors of the City Lord’s manor. The path twisted through quiet groves until they reached the guest courtyard deep within the estate.
Just as the guard was about to step forward and announce his arrival, Gu Zhengxing raised a hand. The guard turned away in silence and disappeared into the dark.
A tree outside the window was heavy with vivid red blossoms, its drooping branches brushing against the eaves. Warm yellow candlelight glowed from within the room, and beneath the flowers, the silhouette of a slender, upright figure was cast against the windowpane.
Perched among the blossoms was a snow-white finch, staring intently at the shadow on the paper screen.
Gu Zhengxing fixed his gaze on that silhouette for a moment. Then his form dissolved into nothing. He passed through the wall without a sound, and the ghostly blue flame at his fingertips followed him inside.
Young Master Li sat by the window, one hand loosely holding up his chin, the other turning the pages of a book. His gaze was downcast, utterly absorbed.
The lamp cast light over his face. A fearsome ghost mask covered most of it, but left the eyes exposed—and what eyes they were: delicate and arresting, the kind that could stop a man’s breath. The contrast between the cruel mask and those luminous eyes was almost seductive, as if some artist had left a finishing touch there. The lashes were golden and fine like the soft edges of feathers. Perhaps sensing a chill in the air, the young man lifted his eyes toward Gu Zhengxing’s direction—revealing their full, stunning brilliance.
In the next instant, Gu Zhengxing snuffed out the ghost flame at his fingertips.
Li Lanxiu lowered his gaze again, setting his book gently on the table. He slid his finger across the page, its movement catching the lamplight—a warm glow running over a hand as smooth and pale as frost-carved jade.
Gu Zhengxing removed his dark veil and put it away, his gaze complicated as he watched him.
This was the same Young Master Li to whom he owed his life—and the Young Master Li he’d sworn to kill.
What a cruel, exquisite twist of fate.
He said nothing, standing at the edge of the room. Li Lanxiu didn’t seem to notice, eyes still on the page. Whatever he was reading appeared dense and arcane—he turned the pages slowly, and from time to time a quiet, thoughtful hum escaped his throat.
Gu Zhengxing stepped closer and glanced at the book that was open on the table.
It was a high-level cultivation manual.
Li Lanxiu picked up a small wolf-hair brush from the rack and circled one phrase after another, pondering their meanings one by one.
Gu Zhengxing, once a peerless genius, had long since mastered all sorts of cultivation techniques. With just one glance at the page, he spotted the issue and smiled faintly as he watched the thoughtful Li Lanxiu.
Li Lanxiu held the brush, its tail lazily pressed against his chin. After a while of thinking, he let out a soft sigh.
He leaned back in his chair and casually tucked his brush behind his head to hold up his hair, then folded his arms and stared fixedly at the scroll on the table, as if staring long enough would make the page itself offer up the answer.
This lively and animated expression was worlds apart from the composed and calculating face Gu Zhengxing had seen before. It was a different kind of vividness—almost endearing.
He couldn’t help but curl his lips and, rare for him, let slip a small smile. He flicked his fingers toward the potted plant beside the table.
A bright flower petal drifted down and landed on the page before Li Lanxiu, settling right atop a line of text.
Li Lanxiu picked up the petal and murmured, “Illuminate the outer with manifest light, nourish the inner by concealing light, the sun and moon illuminate within and without yet rely not on their light…” He paused briefly. Suddenly, understanding dawned and he gave a soft, pleased laugh. “So that’s what it means.”
He pulled the brush from his hair and quickly circled the line. His good mood was written all over his face.
Gu Zhengxing stepped back a few paces and sat down on the couch in the room, his eyes holding a quiet smile as he looked at him.
Li Lanxiu soon finished reading the entire manual. To stand against the Red Sect, he had to raise his own strength. In recent days, he’d studied cultivation manuals diligently and made rapid progress in his cultivation.
He closed the book and stood, stretching his arms in a long, relaxed motion. Then he took out another manual from his storage ring. Flipping through it as he walked, he made his way to the couch and sat down, completely unaware that the ghost king was already seated beside him.
Gu Zhengxing sat side by side with him on the couch, having put away the red umbrella to avoid brushing against him. He turned his head toward the book in Li Lanxiu’s hands.
Before he could see it clearly, the manual tilted with Li Lanxiu’s hand as he reclined across the couch. His long, straight legs stretched forward, his white boots lazily propped on the armrest at the end.
Gu Zhengxing immediately leaned back, his spine against the back of the couch, avoiding contact with the other’s shin by mere inches.
Now trapped on the couch by Li Lanxiu, he couldn’t stand or sit comfortably. Any movement might bring him into contact with Li Lanxiu.
Back when he lived at Loftcloud Sect, he sat upright, walked with dignity and had the finest bearing among the disciples. He had never imagined a cultivator could behave with such indolent ease.
There was much he had never imagined. Li Lanxiu, sprawled across the couch, casually lifted one leg and crossed it over the other. His white robe trailed down and draped over Gu Zhengxing’s knees.
As Gu Zhengxing lowered his gaze, he saw that leg, wrapped in thin cloth.
His leg was long and elegant, its bones and flesh balanced. Silken fabric clung to the skin, outlining a smooth, supple texture, the warm flesh beneath seeming just within reach.
Li Lanxiu flipped through the pages, the tip of his boot bouncing gently in rhythm with his good mood, swaying slowly.
Gu Zhengxing kept his eyes straight ahead and gently pushed aside the robe draped over his knees, careful not to make any improper contact.
Li Lanxiu sank further into the couch, his head resting comfortably against the brocade cushion. With a few careless kicks, he tossed off his boots and socks, propping his bare feet more comfortably on the armrest.
His pale, pink-tinted toes swayed lightly in front of Gu Zhengxing. Above the slender bones and lean muscles were the traces of veins beneath the instep in faint bluish hues, like delicate patterns painted on white porcelain.
Out of the corner of his eye, Gu Zhengxing caught the soft glow of those toes, swaying gently before him. A slim golden anklet slid down from the hem of the man’s pants, swinging along with the movement.
Gu Zhengxing’s whole body tensed in an instant. He sat frozen on the couch like a statue carved from stone.
In life or death, he had always kept himself apart from lust. Desire had never touched him. In life, he had been filled with ideals of saving the world. In death, he had carved a bloody path through the ghost realm without mercy.
No one had ever come into such morally degenerate contact with him.
Unable to restrain himself, he lowered his eyes. His gaze darkened as he stared at the swaying pair of beautiful feet. He lifted a hand and brushed through the air above the foot, tracing the veins without touching them. The warmth of the skin—just an inch lower and he could feel it.
So vivid. So carnal.
A feeling that only came from the living.
Gu Zhengxing forced his hand back down and clenched it into a fist. He turned his gaze away and acted as if the lush sight before him didn’t exist.
Li Lanxiu had no idea the ghost king was struggling in such agony because of him. Immersed in the profound cultivation manual, he flipped through page after page with focused concentration, completely unaware that someone beside him was on the verge of losing control.
Gu Zhengxing’s gaze once again drifted to those jade-like feet. A light, cold fragrance teased into his nose. He took a deep breath. The scent deepened—icy cold, but it warmed his chest.
As if he truly had a heartbeat. As if he were alive again.
It was a marvelous feeling.
He leaned in, bringing his cheek close to Li Lanxiu’s foot. His lips nearly lost control and pressed down, eyes closed as he drank in the near-sensation with obsession.
Li Lanxiu gave a casual flick of his toes, and it seemed as if they brushed against a patch of piercing cold. He lowered the book in his hands and squinted across the empty room. He flicked his toes a few more times but felt nothing.
So he lifted the book again and continued reading with full concentration.
He couldn’t see it, but just on the other side of the couch, Gu Zhengxing had a hand pressed to his lips. His handsome face flushed scarlet as he looked at him, as if Li Lanxiu had stolen his first kiss and left him speechless.
The moment Gu Zhengxing’s lips brushed that smooth, lustrous skin, he snapped awake from the illusion of being alive. He had come here to kill Li Lanxiu, but now this act—wasn’t it no different from being driven by lust, no different from a petty lecher?
He stiffly leaned back, pulling away from Li Lanxiu like a beast who had trespassed into a beauty’s fragrant boudoir. He wanted to draw near but feared offending him.
Li Lanxiu flipped through the cultivation manual page by page, at ease. His toes swayed back and forth. Gu Zhengxing found himself forced against the wall, the back of his hand still covering his lips, as flustered as a thief caught stealing fragrant jade.
Only when Li Lanxiu finished reading and suddenly sat up did Gu Zhengxing finally find release.
Li Lanxiu quietly recited the manual under his breath. He walked to the bed, untied his sash and hung his outer robe on the rack. Dressed only in a snow-white inner garment, he sat cross-legged on the bed. Then he lowered his head and unhooked the gold clasps of the mask behind his head.
Gu Zhengxing strode to the wall. As Li Lanxiu looked up, a fleeting glimpse startled him to his core. He jerked back and flashed out of the room through the window.
The night in the city lord’s manor was cold and still. A pale moon hung in the sky. That dazed little bird still stood on its branch.
Gu Zhengxing steadied his breath and walked calmly out of the courtyard.
The guards outside the manor saw Gu Zhengxing stroll out, hand pressed calmly to his lips, his expression composed and indifferent as he slowly descended the steps.
They vaguely recalled he had come on some business, though none of them could remember exactly what for. One of them asked, “What did you come to see the young master for?”
That reminded Gu Zhengxing that Li Lanxiu’s spirit-summoning must be related to the Red Sect, and the Red Sect’s leader was currently in Dreamsaint City. This was no different from pulling a fang from a tiger’s mouth. It was far too dangerous.
He stopped in his tracks. From his ghost ring, he retrieved a palm-sized paper figurine. It had eyes, a nose, and a lifelike appearance. Gu Zhengxing whispered a few words to it, then tossed it to the ground. The paper man instantly dissolved into a black shadow and flowed like dark water back into the city lord’s manor.
Until the debt was repaid, the debtor couldn’t be allowed to come to harm.
White Pagoda Temple was an ancient temple over a hundred years old in Dreamsaint City. Even Lord Xu couldn’t recall exactly how long it had stood. He only remembered that ever since he’d taken up his post, the temple’s incense offerings had never ceased. The people of the city often came to burn incense and pray for peace, saying their prayers were frequently answered.
The temple stood on a green mountain just outside the city. From foot to peak, vermilion and gold pavilions rose in an elegant spread. There were 180 halls in total, each dedicated to a host of divine figures. Several lotus ponds dotted the mountain, their broad green leaves flourishing. The lotus blossoms were in full bloom. A gentle breeze wafted through, spreading a refreshing fragrance that calmed the soul.
Li Lanxiu and Chu Yue arrived at the foot of the mountain, followed by Ming Changsheng and Lord Xu. The mountain gate towered above them, and over it, the three bold characters for “White Pagoda Temple” were written in powerful strokes.
Ming Changsheng studied his own shadow. He vaguely felt that the color looked somewhat darker than before.
Chu Yue’s gaze lingered on the skylark trailing behind them. It followed like a persistent ghost. Without changing expression, he picked up a stone as he walked. With one hand behind his back, he suddenly flicked it.
The skylark faltered in the air and crashed heavily into the lotus pond, sending up a flurry of water and startling the nearby worshippers into cries of alarm.
The temple’s main plaza was vast. In its center stood a towering white pagoda, pure as jade, as if carved entirely from precious stone.
Li Lanxiu approached the tower. At its base, a lotus pedestal bloomed, layer after layer of petals cradling the sacred tower. Amid green mountains and flowing water, the surrounding incense mist gave the scene a quiet, meditative air.
The pagoda’s body was engraved with lines of intricate and obscure Sanskrit. The golden script blended into the surface of the tower. Under the sunlight, the white pagoda shimmered with golden threads, radiating a holy aura.
City Lord Xu said to him, “Xianzhang, this white pagoda is a reliquary for the bones of Buddhist monks. The remains inside all belong to revered monks.”
Li Lanxiu lifted his head and examined it closely. A secret voice transmission suddenly rang in his ear.
“Young Master, don’t go near that tower.”
It was Ming Changsheng’s voice, and it sounded tense.
Li Lanxiu stepped back and replied through voice transmission, his expression calm and unreadable. “What did you sense?”
Ming Changsheng hesitated. He reached back to touch the coffin strapped to him before saying, “Nothing. I just don’t feel right here.”
The white pagoda was shrouded in thick Buddhist energy. It was like the spiritual energy of cultivation, and being near it brought a sense of relaxation. He did feel that—but something about this place felt different from other temples.
What exactly was different? Ming Changsheng couldn’t say. He only knew that Changshou, inside the coffin, disliked it immensely.
Li Lanxiu gave a slight nod. Ming Changsheng was born with both yin and yang in one body. If he felt unwell, then there was definitely something unclean within White Pagoda Temple.
They continued forward. Up ahead, a scripture hall was surrounded by a dense crowd of people, layer upon layer of townsfolk pressing in from all sides.
From the packed throng came the faint bleating of a sheep, its cries like a weeping child, full of pain and suffering.
Li Lanxiu stopped in his tracks. Chu Yue halted beside him, both watching the noisy crowd.
“Master Monk, please save my ewe. If it dies along with the baby, my wife will twist my ear off…”
“Master Wuji is a great monk invited by the abbot himself. How could he stoop to delivering livestock?”
“You’re being unreasonable. That monk’s hands are free of blood. This would ruin his reputation.”
The clamor of voices rose in argument until a serene and composed voice sounded, calm and clear above the din. “There’s no need to argue, kind patrons. The lives of people and animals are of equal value. Saving it is no different than saving a person.”
Li Lanxiu understood immediately. An ewe from a nearby village was having a difficult birth. There hadn’t been time to bring a veterinarian from the city, so the villager had carried the ewe to White Pagoda Temple, begging the monks to save it.
After Master Wuji spoke, the crowd gradually quieted. The ewe’s cries rang out in broken gasps. From the sound of it, Master Wuji was helping the ewe give birth.
Li Lanxiu raised his arm. He blocked the departing Lord Xu with his fan and looked at the crowd with interest. “Let’s wait and see.”
Moments later, cries of joy erupted from the crowd, followed by a burst of thunderous applause. The ewe’s painful bleating was now mixed with the soft cries of a lamb.
The dense crowd parted to open a path. A young man in snow-white monk robes stood in the center, cradling a frail lamb in his arms. Blood had soaked through his robes, but he paid it no mind. He gently stroked the newborn lamb with one hand.
He was not tonsured. His long black hair was tied in a topknot. His brows and eyes were delicate and cool, carrying a dignified elegance. His figure was slim, and his skin was pale with the sickly hue of one long bedridden.
With the lamb nestled in his arms, he showed a faint smile. The crowd around him smiled along, welcoming the birth of a new life.
It was a scene full of serene Buddhist grace.
One of the smiling pilgrims began to cry. Suddenly, she knelt before Master Wuji with a thud. “Master Monk, this lamb will be eaten one day. Who knows whose mouth it will end up in? How pitiful…”
Wuji gently stroked the lamb and looked at her with a warm smile. “Is that what troubles you, patron?”
The woman nodded, tears falling as she looked at the lamb.
Wuji bent down and handed her the lamb, his voice soft. “All things in this world have their own karma. A lamb’s fate is to be eaten. But when you eat lamb, do you ever think the lamb pitiful?”
The crowd around them looked ashamed. Someone stammered, “Master Monk, I’ll become vegetarian from now on…”
Wuji straightened up and shook his head with a calm expression. “There’s no need for that, patron. Lambs must eat grass to survive. People must eat lamb to survive. As I said, there is no difference between people and lambs. There’s no need to pity them.”
He paused and added, “When you eat lamb, if your heart holds compassion and you are grateful to the lamb that gave its life for you, then the sin of killing is already lessened.”
The pilgrim looked thoroughly confused and asked, “If that’s the case, then Master, wouldn’t you be allowed to break your vows and eat meat?”
Wuji lowered his head and smiled lightly. He looked at the pilgrim and said, “Since the day I was born, I have never eaten meat or fish.” The pilgrims around him were deeply shocked. Never eating meat meant he had never harmed an innocent life. No wonder this monk, who still looked so young, had become an honored guest of White Pagoda Temple.
Li Lanxiu gazed at the monk, slowly tilted his head and smiled faintly. He tapped Lord Xu’s shoulder with the tip of his fan. “Lord Xu, do me a favor and buy a roast chicken from the city.”
Lord Xu knew he didn’t partake in worldly food and asked curiously, “Who are you giving it to, Xianzhang?”
Li Lanxiu pointed forward with his fan. “Him. That damn monk.”
Thanks U for the ch :).
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