Mortal Realm.
Ding Tian City.
Following Jin Shuang’s directions, Gu Changhuai arrived at the largest inn in the city. As soon as he entered, he saw a group of Enforcement Hall disciples hunched over, slurping noodles.
“Slurp slurp slurp—”
The sounds came from all directions, resounding through the air.
Weren’t their elder gone? Didn’t they know? Shouldn’t they grieve a bit before slurping noodles? Apparently not—they slurped away merrily.
Gu Changhuai naturally found a seat and ordered a bowl of noodles as well.
What kind of noodles smelled so good?
He wanted to try them too.
“Junior Brother Gu, where have you been?” Kong Huai came down from upstairs. Seeing Gu Changhuai sitting with the Enforcement Hall disciples, he squeezed into a spot nearby and asked curiously, “We haven’t seen you for the past couple of days. I almost thought you’d gone missing. What have you been up to?”
At that moment, the waiter brought over a steaming bowl of noodles. This one was larger than the others’, wider than a face—more like a basin—with heaps of toppings piled on top. It immediately drew sidelong glances from the other disciples. “Same price, but why is Junior Brother’s bowl bigger than ours?”
“He’s good-looking,” the waiter said proudly, flicking his towel. “It’s a gift from the boss. Don’t worry about it.”
The Enforcement Hall disciples: “…”
Fine.
“…”
Gu Changhuai held his chopsticks, mixed the noodles, and made up an excuse to respond to Kong Huai. “I went to the nearby town for a stroll. Nothing fun there, so I came back.”
“That’s good.” Kong Huai let out a breath of relief. “Earlier, the Immortal Venerable said you’d gone off causing trouble, and then Pei Minor Official was brought back unconscious. I was worried something had happened to you too.”
At the words “causing trouble,” Gu Changhuai paused in mixing his noodles. “…What?”
The spy business—how could it be called causing trouble? It was clearly a game of werewolf. But Rong Ye probably hadn’t discovered the truth yet, or he wouldn’t tolerate him like this.
Right now, only Jin Shuang and Pei Tianyi knew about it. Spies didn’t hide from other spies—plus one was unconscious.
Ignorance was no sin. He cradled his bowl to warm his hands and asked about the unconscious one. “How’s Pei Tianyi doing?”
“Not great.” Kong Huai frowned. “After coming back, he’s been in his room the whole time. Right now, the Immortal Lord and Jin Shuang are checking on him inside. Not sure how it’s going.”
As he spoke, the door upstairs creaked open. Jin Shuang emerged from the guest room, scanned the hall, and spotted Gu Changhuai about to dig into his noodles.
He came downstairs and took a seat right beside them. The Enforcement Hall disciples had to scoot over, muttering, “There’s plenty of space—why squeeze in with us?”
“Eat your food.” Kong Huai added a duck leg to his bowl. “Don’t ask.”
Gu Changhuai lowered his gaze, picked up a chopstick of noodles tipped with vibrant green pea shoots. The spicy aroma was mouthwatering.
Cultivators in the Cultivation World emphasized fasting and plain, natural foods to avoid impurities. Demon Realm cuisine was a chaotic mix of bizarre insects and meats. Only in the Mortal Realm could one taste such flavorful dishes.
He blew on the noodles and asked Jin Shuang, “How is he?”
“Not optimistic.” Jin Shuang rubbed his brow. “The Immortal Lord is reinforcing the seal on him, but the effect probably won’t be as strong as before. He’s not sleeping soundly—having nightmares.”
Gu Changhuai glanced at the Enforcement Hall disciples. “Didn’t they have Dream-Making Flowers on their heads when they returned?” he said. “Grab a couple and use them to soothe Pei Tianyi.”
At his words, the Enforcement Hall disciples—who had been slurping obliviously—turned to stare at him en masse. A dozen pairs of eyes fixed on him; even their noodles were forgotten.
Gu Changhuai: “?”
What was this reaction?
Kong Huai awkwardly rubbed his nose. “No one here dares touch the Dream-Making Flowers,” he explained. “They’re all kept in a box. Get too close, smell the pollen, and you’ll drop into sleep immediately.”
The Enforcement Hall disciples nodded furiously.
Yeah, yeah—they’d slept for over ten days. They never wanted to see another Dream-Making Flower. Even hearing the name made them nauseous.
Gu Changhuai turned to Jin Shuang. “…You don’t dare either?”
Jin Shuang coughed lightly twice. “I passed out twice collecting them.” Once bitten, twice shy.
Their eyes met.
Jin Shuang suddenly felt pins and needles, straightening his back involuntarily. “…”
Gu Changhuai: “…”
Tch.
Useless.
He withdrew his gaze, took the first perfectly cooled bite of noodles, chewed, swallowed, and picked up another chopstick to cool.
He drawled slowly, “Later, then. After I finish eating.”
He hugged his basin-sized bowl, sipped some broth, and squinted contentedly.
Ah—
So good.
He didn’t want to go back to the Demon Realm.
…
Because the Dream-Making Flower pollen could leak at any time, it had been sealed in a box and stored in a dedicated spirit pouch.
Now, to retrieve it, no one else wanted to risk it—afraid of affecting others. Jin Shuang had prepared a separate room specifically for Gu Changhuai.
The door closed.
The dozen or so Enforcement Hall disciples squatted neatly outside, pondering. “Think Junior Brother Gu can get the Dream-Making Flower? One whiff of the pollen and you’re dreaming. Someone should help him.”
Kong Huai tilted his head, trying to listen inside, but heard nothing. “If we hear anything later, we all rush in,” he suggested.
“…” Jin Shuang silently stepped aside a couple paces, trying to distance himself from the group.
If they all rushed in, they’d all inhale the pollen and pass out together… The scene would be a disaster.
Inside the room.
An ancient box sat on the long table, slowly opening.
Rose thorns instantly spilled out, scrambling to climb. They soon covered the entire table and floor, forming a rose tree.
The tree trunk glowed softly. Over a dozen roses bloomed on the branches, vivid and dewy. Countless light motes floated around—the pollen.
Sensing a living presence, the motes tried to approach Gu Changhuai but were blocked by an invisible barrier. Unable to break through, they circled him like beasts lurking for an opening.
Gu Changhuai tilted his head slightly, drawn to the brightest crimson rose at the top. He reached for that Dream-Making Flower.
His slender fingers touched the petal. The blood-red flower was easily plucked into his palm. As if sensing something, the surrounding pollen stirred.
Gu Changhuai held out his hand, still in the pose of having just picked the flower. A faint fragrance assaulted him, subtly taking effect.
In an instant, his eyes lost focus.
…
The scene before him shifted to the dim Shadow Clan grounds. A sickly sweet scent filled the air, driving the Shadow Demons into a frenzy.
Snowflakes drifted in the pitch-black sky.
The crimson rose in his hand became a pierced chest. His five fingers gripped the heart, yanking it free with a spray of blood across his cheek. The entire organ was torn from the body.
The warm heart throbbed in his palm, blood dripping through his fingers.
The heartless corpse collapsed before him. Unconsciously, he squeezed, and the still-beating heart crumbled to dust.
Such a familiar scene.
Gu Changhuai remembered.
This was right after he’d transmigrated. The original body’s lingering power had gripped the heart; his arrival had crushed it unwittingly.
Back then, his hands bloodied, he stood motionless, staring blankly at the lifeless corpse. Expressionless, perhaps bewildered.
Gu Changhuai could hardly recall his feelings from that time—he was used to it now.
But the Dream-Making Flower recreated that moment.
In a daze.
The warm heart returned to his palm, pulsing strongly. Gu Changhuai lowered his lashes, his eyes cold and indifferent. His fingers tightened.
In his vision, the dim training ground collapsed. The object in his hand flickered between the beating heart and the rose.
He tilted his head slightly and squeezed mercilessly. His body shuddered. Crimson flower juice dripped from his fingers.
Just the lingering effect of the Dream-Making Flower, showing him a memory. The pollen wasn’t that potent—perfect for soothing.
He tossed aside the shattered flower casually, picked a fresh one, and with a flick of his sleeve, sealed the rest back in the box. Then he went out.
…
The door opened.
The disciples eavesdropping against it tumbled to Gu Changhuai’s feet with yelps, then scrambled up, faces beaming. “Junior Brother Gu, you’re okay! Great!”
Gu Changhuai smiled faintly. “Just picking a flower. What could happen?”
Following his gaze, they saw the Dream-Making Flower cradled in his palm, encased in a barrier that prevented the pollen from escaping.
“You lose!” One disciple cheered at another. “Hand over five Spirit Stones!”
Gu Changhuai glanced sideways.
What was going on?
“They were betting,” Kong Huai explained. “Whether you’d fall to the Dream-Making Flower pollen or come out unscathed with one.”
Gu Changhuai raised a brow. “Did you bet?”
Kong Huai: “…Lost ten top-grade Spirit Stones.”
Meanwhile, the unassuming Jin Shuang pulled out his spirit pouch, collecting stones from nearly everyone.
Once he had them all, Jin Shuang cleared his throat, turned to Gu Changhuai with a scholarly face lit by a proud smile. “This time, I’m the big winner.”
Gu Changhuai: “…”
You really were something.
Sending you from Wuding Pavilion to Xinnan Immortal Sect as a spy was a total waste of talent!
A few steps away was Pei Tianyi’s room.
Gu Changhuai approached, but before he could knock, the door opened on its own. He strode in grandly, and it closed behind him.
The inn rooms were all similar in layout—this one no exception. But arrays hummed everywhere: icy blue, intricate, flowing with subtle pressure.
He rounded the screen. There stood a tall figure in profound azure robes by the bed, his handsome, aloof face emotionless. His indifferent gaze fixed on the unconscious Pei Tianyi, manipulating the seal to repair and reactivate it.
As Gu Changhuai neared, Rong Ye’s eyes flicked toward him.
Caught off guard, their gazes locked. Gu Changhuai’s heart nearly skipped a beat, pinned by those deep, abyssal eyes. It felt almost like being cherished. No way, he thought silently. Don’t daydream. Any Demon Clansman eyed by Qing Lian would have grass taller than them on their grave by now.
Composed, he met the gaze steadily.
After a moment.
Rong Ye’s clear, cold voice sounded in the room. “Had your fun? Decided to come back?”
“…” Gu Changhuai snapped back, feeling a twinge of guilt.
But he also breathed a sigh of relief. Rong Ye still didn’t suspect him.
He casually placed the freshly picked Dream-Making Flower by Pei Tianyi’s pillow. Pei Tianyi slept restlessly in his nightmare, brow furrowed and sweating profusely. The flower’s fragrance gradually calmed him in his dreams.
“Where else could I go if not back?” After placing the flower, Gu Changhuai turned, smiling lightly at Rong Ye. “Where you are, I am. Don’t abandon me, Immortal Lord.”
It was the plain truth. How else to carry out the assassination plan without sticking to Rong Ye?!
From entering Xinnan until now, he’d only struck four times—slacking too much. With the Demon Venerable already suspicious, he needed to boost his performance.
Otherwise, if he got kicked off Supreme Peak someday, sneaking back in for a kill would be a hassle. Better like this: tagging along openly, making mischief anytime.
He pondered on.
Meanwhile, Rong Ye’s gaze swept over Gu Changhuai’s smiling face, lingering a moment on those pale, shapely thin lips.
…Those fine lips seemed still stained with heart-shaking crimson blood—like rouge, but far more enticing. He wanted to lick them clean, leave his mark on those thin lips.
“…”
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