Chapter 83: Yan the Big Bull Part 1

The Old Daoist’s gaze swept back and forth over the two who sat primly. From Yan Xinfeng’s ears flushed red to Wei Tingxia’s feigned innocent composure, and linking it to how Yan Xinfeng had cried earlier and now had his face flushed like a ripe persimmon—

In a flash, an utterly outrageous and direct thought crashed into his muddled mind with a boom.

“You two got together, didn’t you?”

The words burst from him, his voice cracking.

In an instant, Yan Xinfeng’s face turned so red it seemed about to bleed, while Wei Tingxia’s taut lips finally lost control. He let out a pfft of laughter.

His whole body shook as he slumped against Yan Xinfeng’s shoulder, laughing until tears welled up in his eyes.

“Uncle Master…”

Yan Xinfeng called out helplessly, but his arm steadily supported Wei Tingxia who was about to slide off. “How did you just blurt it out like that?”

“How could I not ask?!” The Old Daoist blew out his beard and glared, thumping the table with the handle of his whisk. “It’s plain as day! Set in stone! This poor Daoist has lived all these years—do you think I’d misread it? So what if I say it!”

Yan Xinfeng’s face was still red, but much better than before. He said, “It’s a bit strange.”

The strange ones were clearly the two of you.

The Old Daoist’s gaze still darted back and forth between them. Thinking of how Yan Xinfeng had said last night that he’d self-harm if he felt moved again, the more he thought, the more he felt his worries were utter nonsense.

“I haven’t dropped dead on the spot from anger thanks to the Dao Ancestor’s blessing!” The Old Daoist grew angrier the more he thought, jabbing a finger at Yan Xinfeng’s nose. “What did you tell your uncle master last night? Huh? And the next day you just… you just… you’re fooling your elder like this?!”

“Something unexpected happened,” Yan Xinfeng explained earnestly. “I wasn’t fooling you. He saved me from dire straits.”

The Old Daoist: “…”

Seeming to realize the situation was inappropriate, Wei Tingxia stopped laughing at this point. He sat up straight again and bowed toward the Old Daoist.

“Uncle Master has always treated Cai Yun with utmost kindness, like a brother or father. His affection is plain for heaven and earth to see, and I am deeply grateful.”

The way he said it made it sound like the Old Daoist had raised Yan Xinfeng for his sake—no one knew where he’d picked up such sour words.

Yan Xinfeng hurriedly nodded in agreement beside him. “Yeah, I’m grateful to Uncle Master too.”

The Old Daoist nearly rolled his eyes in fury. With Wei Tingxia present, he forcibly swallowed the scolding on the tip of his tongue and merely shot Yan Xinfeng a fierce glare.

“His thoughts aren’t fully clear right now,” Wei Tingxia added. “Once he comes around, he’ll naturally understand Uncle Master’s profound kindness.”

The Old Daoist was rendered speechless by their duet, never imagining their dynamic was like this—such perfect harmony, like newlyweds.

He stroked his beard, his gaze complicated. “You’re quite polite, aren’t you.”

Wei Tingxia gave him a humble and gentle smile. “It’s what I should do.”

“Fine, whatever!”

The Old Daoist flicked his whisk and stood, wearing an out-of-sight-out-of-mind expression. “This poor Daoist doesn’t care about your mess anymore! Sort it out between yourselves!”

Though he still couldn’t figure out how their relationship had reversed overnight, seeing Yan Xinfeng’s current smug, spring-breeze look told him the suicidal thoughts were gone for good. That was enough.

Elders who worried too much shortened their lifespan!

“What next?” he asked offhandedly. “The sect grand tournament is in a few days—all new disciples sparring. You haven’t taken any pupils, so you’ll just sit in the judges’ seats and watch the fun?”

Yan Xinfeng shook his head. “No, Uncle Master. I’m planning a trip to Xumi Palace.”

At those three words, the Old Daoist’s eyelids twitched.

“What are you going there for? Everyone’s dead and gone.”

“That’s why it’s strange. I want to investigate,” Yan Xinfeng said. “Besides, the Demon Abyss has been restless lately, demonic qi spilling out. The nearby commoners must be suffering. I want to do what I can.”

The Old Daoist scratched his head, reluctant deep down. “I thought once you settled down, you’d drop all this nonsense. Didn’t expect you’d still be like this.”

Yan Xinfeng pointed out, “Uncle Master, you just taught me to benefit the masses.”

“I was fooling you!” The Old Daoist glared. “I meant to use those grand principles to cheer you up. Who knew you’d climb the pole and take it further?”

After speaking, the Old Daoist turned a sharp gaze on the quietly listening Wei Tingxia. “And you? You’re just letting him fool around? Is the Demon Abyss a playground?”

Wei Tingxia hadn’t expected to get dragged in. He paused, then nodded.

“I think he looks especially dashing like this,” he said. “If Uncle Master is worried, I’ll go with him and protect him.”

“You?” The Old Daoist’s gaze was skeptical. “Who protects who isn’t certain!”

“Then he’ll protect me,” Wei Tingxia adapted smoothly. “He said he’d take responsibility for me.”

The Old Daoist: “…”

He was utterly out of temper. He waved a hand. “Fine, fine, do whatever! This poor Daoist will see nothing!”

With that, he strode toward the door. At the threshold, he paused and turned to Yan Xinfeng. “Cai Yun, see your uncle master off.”

Then, the Old Daoist deliberately looked at Wei Tingxia with elder authority. “You don’t need to follow. Rest up.”

Yan Xinfeng met his gaze for a moment, puzzled, but still rose to follow.

Wei Tingxia remained seated calmly, merely nodding slightly to the Old Daoist before waving at Yan Xinfeng.

“Bye-bye!”

Yan Xinfeng mimicked him, raising a hand to wave.

…

The palace doors closed behind them, blocking the inner chamber’s light.

The Old Daoist didn’t slow, heading straight to a secluded corner under the corridor. Once away from doors and windows, he suddenly grabbed Yan Xinfeng’s arm and yanked him close.

“Kid, tell your uncle master the truth! Are you going to the Demon Abyss for that hero nonsense, to probe Xumi Palace, or…”

Before he finished, his gaze turned deadly serious.

“Or is that little obsession in your heart not dead yet?! You want to go find that someone?! Let me tell you, Yan Xinfeng!”

The Old Daoist growled full name, spittle nearly spraying Yan Xinfeng’s face.

“Be a man of conscience, of righteousness! Since you’ve… well, got this connection with him, you must keep your word, a promise worth a thousand gold—understand?! If you dare wrong him even a little, play the field, philander… Hmph! No need for heaven to strike you down—your uncle master will clean house first! Breaking your legs would be letting you off light!”

These words had clearly brewed in him for a while. They poured out fluently without pause.

Yan Xinfeng listened silently, expressionless. Once the Old Daoist paused, panting, he calmly asked, “How does Uncle Master plan to break my legs?”

“I’ll lop off your head fir—ptui!”

The Old Daoist choked on the impudent retort, nearly passing out. He stroked his beard to catch his breath, his tone uncharacteristically earnest. “Cai Yun, your uncle master isn’t joking. Past matters, for us cultivators, should be like passing clouds.

“The more you cling, the deeper you dig, the heavier your heart demons grow. Even heaven won’t spare that flaw! Since you’ve decided, treat the one before you well. Got it?”

“He…” Yan Xinfeng suddenly spoke, his voice laced with peculiar curiosity. “What kind of person is he?”

The Old Daoist froze, then realized the brat hadn’t listened at all and was asking about Wei Tingxia. A surge of anger flared.

“Are you sick?!”

He growled under his breath, itching to crack open Yan Xinfeng’s skull. “What’s to ask? He’s right there!”

“I’m curious.”

The Old Daoist didn’t want to answer, but feared endless questions. He slicked back his hair, glanced around to confirm no one followed, and whispered, “Pretty free-spirited. Knows how to play cute and pitiful, cooing you into a daze till you forget your own name. But when he argues, he really argues with you.”

That was all he knew, spilled out at once, hoping Yan Xinfeng would roll back obediently and stop bothering him.

But Yan Xinfeng’s first reaction was a low chuckle.

The laugh was soft, yet brimmed with heartfelt delight, as if confirming some joyous truth.

“He’s really like that?” he pressed, eyes and brows alight with vivid mirth.

The Old Daoist nodded vigorously, irked. “Absolutely! You done yet?”

At that, Yan Xinfeng laughed even more freely, brows relaxing fully. Years of gloom seemed scattered by the smile, leaving pure, overflowing joy and a hint of indulgent affection.

He murmured softly, as if to himself or the Old Daoist, “Yeah… Xiao Xia really is like that.”

The intimacy and indulgence in his tone were thick as syrup.

Alarm bells rang in the Old Daoist’s heart. Where had Yan Xinfeng “moved on”? He’d just tumbled into another dead-end obsession, dragged toward normalcy only by the new guy!

“I gotta go,” the Old Daoist said abruptly. “Stay longer and I might really kick you to death!”

With that, he fled on a gust of wind, as if truly afraid he’d strike.

“Why would he kick you?” Wei Tingxia’s voice sounded from behind.

No one knew how he’d appeared—like a wisp of green smoke coalescing into form. Yan Xinfeng’s expression unchanged, he turned and patted the little demon fiend’s head.

“He probably thinks I’m fickle,” Yan Xinfeng said. “Got you, yet keep thinking of others—or maybe just using you as a stand-in.”

Wei Tingxia swatted his hand away. “Who are you thinking of?”

He asked seriously, without anger, as if casual—Yaning Xinfeng could answer anything without issue.

So Yan Xinfeng sought discomfort. “If I said someone else’s name, what would you do?”

“Nothing,” Wei Tingxia said. “I can’t beat you right now.”

Yan Xinfeng pressed, “What if you can someday?”

Hearing this, Wei Tingxia smiled.

Some people’s aura was innately extraordinary. Even in an utterly hollow shell, a glance sparkled with brilliance.

Wei Tingxia’s current looks were merely refined, but his smile made them flamboyantly vivid—like a flower with sharp thorns.

“I’ll eat you,” he said.

Demon fiends were ruthless. Those five short words carried eerie chill.

For every heartbreaker in the world, there were bold vows to punish them. But few said “eat” with such natural certainty as Wei Tingxia.

Eating him, merging his power into one’s bones and blood—that was inseparability to non-humans.

Others might scare at such words, but Yan Xinfeng just blinked. “You really think that?”

Wei Tingxia nodded.

“Good.” Yan Xinfeng agreed crisply, even gladly. “Then it’s a deal. If I ever wrong you, eat me.”

His voice was steady, like pledging something mundane—not his life and flesh.

Yan Xinfeng was always true to his word, generous.

Wei Tingxia grew fonder the more he looked. He reached out, rubbing along Yan Xinfeng’s cheek, drawing him down for a kiss.

…

…

Three days later.

Outside the Demon Domain.

A horned canine demon fiend leaped from the withered grass, a hunk of rotting, maggot-ridden meat in its jaws. It sniffed warily, its emaciated, bleeding body crouching low. After a vigorous head shake, it bolted into the distance.

On the nearby broad road, a group moved slowly toward the Demon Domain.

They were all sturdy young men, some with swords, others shouldering axes or sickles, clad in plain short shirts and trousers—like villagers from nearby.

The few burly ones in front wielded blades, clearly more skilled than those behind. They hurried along, rarely speaking, sharing tacit glances—this wasn’t their first trip.

Among the stragglers behind was a young lad shouldering a hoe, glancing about nervously in bewilderment. It was his first time.