Chapter 12: On What Grounds Does He Dare Twist the Truth?

Zhao Lixuan remembered that when Jiang Chen had studied at Xiao Xue Tower in the past, he had been the most diligent among his classmates, rising to practice his sword before dawn broke.

Back then, his sleeves had whipped through the wind, his ink-black hair intertwining and fluttering with his robes, accompanied by the clear, unending hum of his sword slicing through the air—a memory that lingered vividly in the depths of Zhao Lixuan’s mind, as sharp as yesterday.

But at least, back then, his strict self-discipline had only tormented himself.

Now, things had flipped—he’d even learned to be harsh on others!

These past days, before the sky lightened and with dew heavy and winds chill, Zhao Lixuan would stumble out of bed with bleary eyes to find that man already there, cradling his ominously murderous Mortal Life Ashes, waiting silently beneath the pear tree in his courtyard.

The moment he dawdled out, the man wouldn’t spare him a single extra glance, his thin lips parting to utter just one word: “Go.”

Zhao Lixuan: “…”

The problem was, he’d never been a diligent, hardworking immortal!

His lifelong pursuit had always been carefree leisure—lying down if he could avoid sitting.

Yet now, he was forced out of his warm blankets before dawn by this living King of Hell, tearfully rushing to the training grounds. In just a few short days of torment, his pampered bones and muscles rebelled fiercely—sore back and aching waist day after day, limbs heavy as lead, his immortal life shrouded in gloom.

He could endure the physical torment, but Jiang Chen piled on mental blows too.

Lately, the man’s attire had grown utterly baffling, prancing right on Zhao Lixuan’s fragile nerves—

Jiang Immortal Lord no longer even wore that black robe with subtle dark patterns from before, which had at least somewhat suited his aura.

One morning, he’d appeared in a deep crimson robe! The intense red made his skin seem even colder and more flawless, even tinging his usual sharp brows and eyes with a strange, demonic allure.

Though… objectively speaking, it looked extremely good.

But at first glance, it had scared Zhao Lixuan witless, nearly convincing him this ancestor had veered off his cultivation path and was about to fall to the demonic side.

This morning had been even worse.

He pushed open his door, and there stood Jiang Chen in moon-white robes, motionless under the pear tree amid falling petals.

“…” White.

When had he ever worn white?

The rising dawn light filtered through the branches, outlining Jiang Immortal Lord in a faint golden halo. His ink-black hair cascaded like a waterfall, unbound save for a few strands loosely pinned with a plain jade clasp. His profile remained sharp as a blade, jaw clenched tight. Those bottomless black eyes, framed by such elegant robes, lost none of their edge—instead, they seemed carved from ice and snow, fiercely piercing!

Save me, I can’t take it.

Zhao Lixuan wailed inwardly. Go back to that eternal black, please—this is even worse! Save me, I can’t live like this. I’ll spit blood and die any moment.

…

People only realized how precious their ordinary days were once they were mired deep.

Zhao Lixuan now yearned desperately for those leisurely days of old!

Savoring delicacies, lounging in peace, spacing out in the Tu Flower Immortal Grass Meadow watching clouds drift by, flipping idly through bizarre, impractical ancient spells in the Scripture Pavilion…

Back then, he’d thought them mundane.

Now, they seemed like the epitome of immortal bliss.

Ha, now look—battered daily by Jiang Chen‘s stormy waves on the beach, body and soul exhausted, “fulfilled” to the point he wanted to reincarnate on the spot.

After half a month in these dire straits, Zhao Lixuan couldn’t take it anymore.

But with the Moon Hunt drawing near, he couldn’t openly admit he wanted to slack off. He racked his brains, hatching a pile of bad ideas!

His first scheme: turn the tables.

Jiang Chen blocked him every early morning? Fine, let’s see who rose earlier.

Under starry skies, he dragged his bloodshot eyes to pound on Jiang Chen‘s courtyard door, earnest-faced: “Jiang Immortal Venerable, I tossed and turned all night worrying about the demon hunt. I feel my cultivation is too shallow—please spar with me now, for three extra hours!”

Once Jiang Chen expressionlessly agreed, he deliberately picked the most tedious, mentally draining basic composite formations that tested patience and fine control, dragging Jiang Chen through endless drills, breakdowns, and reconstructions.

For the first few days, Jiang Chen silently complied. But unexpectedly, days later, a spark of… interest flickered in those dormant black eyes?

Far from backing off, Jiang Chen immersed himself deeper, even proactively suggesting optimizations to the formation nodes—nearly draining Zhao Lixuan’s immortal essence dry and making him collapse on the spot!

The plan backfired spectacularly. Zhao Lixuan switched tactics, resorting to dodging with official duties.

Every day, Yu Rumu scrounged up perfectly reasonable tasks that only he could handle, temporarily rescuing him from Jiang Chen‘s clutches!

Look, Rumu Shixiong was here again, saving him.

Still, Shixiong cares for me!

But excuses like “the pill hall needs hands urgently” or “ancient texts require an Immortal Lord’s oversight for repair” worked once or twice, but frequent use strained credibility. It didn’t solve the root problem.

Finally, after deep reflection from his suffering, Zhao Lixuan deployed a vicious ploy.

When Jiang Chen arrived that morning with sword in arms, he was already seated with tea service laid out, hefty Demonic Creatures Compendium volumes spread before him, tone sincere:

“Jiang Immortal Venerable, perfect timing. This section on ‘human-demon origins’ in the Demonic Creatures Compendium is profoundly obscure—I’ve puzzled over it all night but still have questions. Shall we discuss the enemy’s nature for half a day first, clarify it, then train? It might double our efficiency.”

He’d finally grasped Jiang Chen‘s sole weakness: poor with words, no match for his debates!

From then on, several days a week, Zhao Lixuan forced Jiang Chen to pore over those tortuously worded ancient texts with him.

Obscure texts were still easier than training to death!

And after succeeding a few times, Zhao Lixuan discovered Jiang Chen wasn’t entirely inhuman—people always slack off eventually.

As their “study sessions” increased, and after sipping Zhao Lixuan’s special calming tea, Jiang Chen would occasionally doze off briefly in the warm afternoon sun and overly serene atmosphere.

Pear blossoms drifted silently outside the window, one or two petals adorning Jiang Immortal Lord‘s ink-black hair or robes.

“…”

In those moments, Zhao Lixuan felt a strange daze.

After all, long ago, this had been the scene he’d dreamed of, even begged for in vain…

He recalled twenty years prior, when the immortal-demon civil war raged to its end. The Three Realms Stone shook, unleashing calamity that split the Unstained Immortal Realm in two.

The larger half fell to powerful demon immortals, who established a new realm called “Demon Bright.”

Later, Jiang Chen chose to go to the Demon Bright.

After that, the Demon Bright unilaterally sealed all paths to the Unstained Immortal Realm and Mortal Realm. News cut off, no word came.

Yet back then, Zhao Lixuan had missed little Jiang dearly.

Learning the paths were sealed—possibly forever—had left him sobbing alone at night, breathless with grief.

Tears fell unbidden every day, unstoppable. He’d truly thought then: If only I could see little Jiang once more. If I could glimpse his sleeping face again, I’d trade my life for it.

…He’d been so young back then.

Thinking love meant forever, unchanging no matter the years.

Yet just twenty years later.

Seeing Jiang Chen‘s sleeping face again stirred only calm indifference.

If that heartbroken little Zhao from back then could foresee it was all so mundane, how much better…

“…”

Lost in thought, a white jade object suddenly slipped from the sleeping Jiang Chen‘s sleeve with a soft clink, landing on the cushioned chair.

As if possessed, Zhao Lixuan picked it up.

A flawless White Jade Flute, with a mutton-fat jade pendant at the end.

He’d assumed someone as cold and aloof as Jiang Chen would favor common dragon-jia motifs or lofty landscape scenes.

But etched meticulously into this fine mutton-fat white jade was a proudly strutting, vividly lifelike…

Big goose.

A big, adorably plump goose, chest puffed out, full of swagger.

“…”

Zhao Lixuan perked up instantly—he loved big geese!

Though he’d kept fluffy, shiny spirit pets, geese had always been his favorite.

Geese were extraordinary: graceful forms, necks curved to the heavens in song, striding with regal dignity that brooked no trespass, honks loud and exorcising, fearless even against mighty foes—like “though millions stand against me, I march on”…

In short, geese were majestic and cute.

But his quirky taste was too niche, often mocked, so to maintain his image, he’d never told Jiang Chen.

If I’d known he shared it, I’d have said!

As he mused, Jiang Immortal Lord stirred.

Indeed, awake.

Silently watching him. Those black eyes calm and bottomless—who knew how long.

Zhao Lixuan: “…”

Zhao Lixuan: “…………”

He still held the man’s White Jade Flute, awkward: “This pendant’s unique. Where’d you find it?”

…

Fine, Jiang Immortal Lord‘s face darkened instantly. Zhao Lixuan shoved it all back: “I didn’t mean to snoop—it fell out on its own…”

Before he finished, his wrist was seized hard.

Jiang Chen‘s grip was iron-strong, like a coiling serpent, icy sensation racing up his veins to his heart.

Zhao Lixuan’s scalp prickled.

Since Jiang Immortal Lord arrived in the Unstained Immortal Realm, aside from their contract-binding clasp and training contact—correcting stances with arm holds, entrusting backs in secret realms—they’d always been restrained and proper. Jiang Chen had never before ignored his well-being like this, leaning in so close with those black eyes, suppressed emotions nearly bursting.

“Where… bought?”

His voice rasped terrifyingly low.

“I… don’t know. Probably Many Treasures Pavilion. Or maybe Treasure Concealing Pavilion?”

Familiar names from Luo State. Even a fool like Zhao Lixuan realized now—weren’t those where he’d bought Jiang Chen gifts before?

So…

“This pendant… I bought it for you back then?”

His utterly sincere bewilderment made Jiang Chen‘s lips twitch in near-self-mocking smirk.

“Anyone but you…”

“Anyone but you, who else would like… such a stupid thing?”

“Uh…” Zhao Lixuan glanced at the plump jade goose in his palm—yeah, probably only he’d like it.

But he truly didn’t remember. Hadn’t I always hidden my goose obsession from Jiang Chen?

“True enough.”

“Immortal Lord Li Xuan, naturally… wouldn’t remember.”

Jiang Chen‘s eyes darkened, fury twisting to laughter: “After all, to you… it was just a whim.”

“Once bored… forgotten clean.”

“…”

The next morning, Jiang Chen finally didn’t appear under the pear tree.

He didn’t show at all, claiming “a touch of wind chill,” shutting himself away and ignoring everyone.

Zhao Lixuan: “…”

Only Yu Rumu was as gullible as ever, fretting: “Must be from pushing too hard lately, overtraining. We should visit. Think Jiang Immortal Lord would like ginseng-ling soup for chills? I’ll brew some—he seems picky; you check?”

Zhao Lixuan: “He’s not sick. Ignore him.”

“Ah?”

Zhao Lixuan wanted to know too—what did “just a whim, forgotten once bored” mean?

As if he’d been the one to abandon things.

Ridiculous.

As if he didn’t beg shamelessly back then, tears streaming, clutching Jiang Chen’s sleeve, pleading not to part.

Had dog Jiang Chen cared?

Then who decisively moved to the Demon Bright and never returned? He didn’t buy the amnesia, nor any “misunderstanding” or “no choice.”

Jiang Chen had said it himself: never liked him, not once in two years! On what grounds did someone like that accuse him, even trying to twist the truth?

Utterly absurd!