Chapter 81

Shen Yu awoke from his hazy consciousness, first feeling the breath in his lungs. He slowly opened his eyes and saw the tassel bed curtains hanging around the bed frame.

The bed curtains were made of moon-white brocade satin, embroidered with exquisite flowers and plants. The fabric was soft yet thick, and if they were let down, they could completely block off the inside of the bed.

The mattress beneath him was padded with soft cotton, like lying on fluffy clouds. The silk brocade outside felt smooth as water. An incense burner on the huanghuali wood bedside table emitted waves of fragrance, intoxicating to the senses.

All of this was extravagantly comfortable in a way that was utterly unlike the simple wooden bed on Question Sword Peak.

Shen Yu had never been one for sleep, month after month, year after year. The moment he touched a bed, he would sit in meditation. That hard, unyielding bed deserved much of the credit.

So where was he now?

His last memory was of Wen Liuhe’s pair of sickly scarlet eyes and the hand that gripped his ankle like an iron clamp.

Shen Yu slowly sat up from the bed. His thick, long lashes cast a shadow at the corners of his eyes. He stretched out a hand to support himself on the mattress. With his movement, a crisp clinking of chains suddenly rang out in the quiet air.

Hearing this completely unreasonable sound of chains, Shen Yu blinked slowly. He held his hand up in front of his eyes and heard the sound again.

In his field of vision, faint daylight filtered slowly through the gaps between his fingers. On his clean left wrist was a pitch-black shackle.

Shen Yu: “…”

The inside of the shackle was padded with silk cotton, soft and unobtrusive, so he hadn’t noticed it when he first woke up.

Shen Yu lifted his thin eyelids and followed the pitch-black, icy chain with his gaze toward the bed frame. The interlocking chain links disappeared into the thick bed curtains, vanishing without a trace.

He slowly clenched his fingers into a fist and yanked his forearm outward with force. The chain rattled, and golden runes suddenly appeared on it with his movement. Forget breaking it—the entire bed didn’t budge an inch.

Shen Yu frowned and tried to circulate the spiritual energy in his body, only to find that his dantian had been sealed by something. The spiritual energy throughout his body stagnated and wouldn’t flow.

He tsked inwardly.

Just then, the room’s door was pushed open from outside. The woman who entered had silver hair pinned up with a jade hairpin and wore a deep red pipa-lapel brocade ruqun. Her demeanor was clean and aloof.

Yu Qi entered the room carrying a bowl of medicinal soup.

The room was very large. Hot spring water bubbled on the right side, steaming mist into the air. She passed through a half-drawn screen and looked up at the person leaning against the bed.

It was hard to describe Yu Qi’s first impression upon seeing this man. His limbs were stretched out languidly, and the arm that was shackled draped over the mattress. He didn’t look like a prisoner at all, nor did he show any hint of distress or resentment.

He lifted his gaze upon hearing the sound, his peach-blossom eyes rippling with emotion. His lips curved up slightly as he smiled at her.

It was the face of a passionate beauty.

But since ancient times, colorful clouds scattered easily, and fine glass shattered readily.

How had he provoked that guy Wen Liuhe?

Yu Qi lowered her eyes and withdrew her subtly observant gaze. She placed the medicinal soup on the bedside table.

Shen Yu sat on the edge of the bed and adjusted his collar symmetrically. His gaze swept over her expressionless face, realizing she must be one of Wen Liuhe’s people. He pondered inwardly if he could use her.

Smiling, Shen Yu asked her, “Where am I right now?”

Yu Qi was surprised by his composure. In a cold voice, she replied, “The human realm.”

Shen Yu was somewhat surprised. He had thought Wen Liuhe would take him back to the Demon Domain. Sunlight gently spilled in through the window lattice, falling at his feet and bringing a play of light and shadow. Only then did he suddenly remember— the Demon Domain was sealed underground in the southwest, where no sunlight could reach.

Shen Yu shifted his gaze and noticed a faded red cloth strip wrapped around her wrist. He lowered his eyes slightly.

Among demons and devils, there was a custom of tying the hair ribbon of a deceased loved one around one’s wrist. They refused to believe the person was truly gone and sought methods of resurrection across the Nine Provinces Three Realms.

Shen Yu’s gaze moved upward from her hand to the medicine bowl on the bedside table. A faint medicinal fragrance wafted from it. He asked, “What kind of medicine is this?”

Yu Qi: “Just an ordinary tonic soup.”

Shen Yu didn’t believe her. Though the soup looked fine, Wen Liuhe had long since lost all credibility in his eyes. He looked away, having no intention of drinking it. Seeing that she answered every question, he asked again, “Where is Wen Liuhe?”

Yu Qi shook her head.

Shen Yu understood this meant she couldn’t say. He had no intention of pressing her and asked no more.

From the moment she entered until now, Shen Yu’s attitude had been too agreeable. Yu Qi arched a brow slightly. “Immortal, you’re quite different from the image I heard about from others.”

Shen Yu was curious. “How so?”

Yu Qi said flatly, “Rumor has it that the Sword-Asking Immortal Venerable despises demons and devils the most. Good demon or bad, he slays every one he encounters; devil or fiend, he kills without mercy. He’s the number one Smiling-Faced Rakshasa of the Nine Provinces, striking fear into the hearts of all in the Demon Domain. Yet from the moment I entered, Immortal, not only have you not given me a cold glare, you haven’t shown even a hint of killing intent toward me.”

Shen Yu crossed his arms and leaned obliquely against the bed. Hearing such an evaluation from someone else for the first time, he found it rather novel.

“The Smiling-Faced Rakshasa? You people come up with awfully tacky nicknames.”

Shen Yu touched the smile at the corner of his lips and continued, “But it’s precisely because of that reputation that some people don’t dare act out of line, isn’t it?”

Yu Qi was stunned. She blinked, then said after a moment, “I see.”

After delivering the medicine, Yu Qi didn’t linger and soon left.

Shen Yu watched her leave, then slowly stood up from the bed and walked around the room to observe.

The room was large and empty. Apart from the bed and a folding screen, there was only the live hot spring on the right. Mist rose from the spring water, damply ascending into the air.

Shen Yu’s gaze swept over the lifelike green bamboos painted on the screen. He walked to the room door, but when he was one step away, the pitch-black chain went taut, and a pulling sensation came from his wrist.

Sandalwood incense wafted in the air. Shen Yu stopped, stretched lazily. With his dantian sealed, his spiritual energy couldn’t circulate normally. He’d only been awake a short while, and already he felt sleepy again.

It was all the fault of that babbling water sound—it was so hypnotic.

Shen Yu returned to the bed, closed his eyes, and his consciousness sank once more. Soon, he fell into a deep sleep.

He had a dream. In it, he was still in swaddling clothes, abandoned in that trench amid the battlefield.

All around was utter silence. The corpses torn apart by demons and devils were no longer human-shaped, but their limbs still held some residual warmth, providing him with heat.

When those limbs finally grew stiff and cold, chilling ghostly winds howled through. At just a few months old, he didn’t yet know life from death—he simply cried in fear.

His cries were so loud that his passing master picked him up and brought him back to Changliu. Master said he had an astonishing will to survive from a young age—that wail was like a ghost howling and a wolf baying. If he’d cried just a bit softer, Master probably would have flown off on his sword without a second thought.

His master had been good to him. Shen Yu had been playful in his youth, but Master always turned a blind eye, saying it was fine to play at that age as long as it didn’t interfere with cultivation. And when it was time to shoulder responsibility, one should do so.

That was how Master had taught him, and that was how he had taught Wen Liuhe.

So why had things deviated so far now?

The dream grew increasingly blurry. Suddenly, Shen Yu felt his body sink, as if a giant python was climbing onto him, wrapping around his limbs. He struggled to breathe and snapped his eyes open.

Wen Liuhe’s head was buried in the crook of his neck, his scorching breath spraying onto sensitive skin, instantly laced with sticky wetness.

Wen Liuhe’s body pressed down on him, one sturdy long leg forcefully wedged between Shen Yu’s legs, parting them.

Shen Yu’s brows furrowed instantly. His chest heaved twice heavily. He looked incredulously at the head buried in his shoulder and cursed angrily, “Wen Liuhe!”

Wen Liuhe hadn’t expected him to wake so quickly. The hand that had slipped inside his inner robes and gripped his waist felt the powerful rise and fall. Those taut muscles, upon waking, clung to his palm like a greedy cat’s tongue.

Wen Liuhe’s eyes darkened, and he quickly changed his mind.

Awake was better. More thrilling.

Hearing Shen Yu’s angry curse, a flash of malice crossed Wen Liuhe’s eyes. Shen Yu’s white inner robes had long been undone, the hair by his ear dampened by the hot breath. His neck arched in resistance, forming a precarious curve like a collapsing jade mountain.

The exposed line of his shoulder and neck was smooth and beautiful. Wen Liuhe bared his canine teeth. Intense destructive desire and lust surged into his soul spirit, his eyes a solid scarlet.

So thirsty.

He wanted to drink his blood so badly.

The man’s throat bobbed. He opened his mouth and bit down hard on Shen Yu’s collarbone, finally eliciting the grunt he’d craved.

Wen Liuhe lifted his head and peered from under his lids at the man who, in a certain sense, had raised him.

Shen Yu stifled the muffled grunt in his throat. His five fingers cracked as he clenched them into a fist and swung at Wen Liuhe’s face—only for it to be blocked by one of Wen Liuhe’s hands in an instant.

His expression changed. Cursing inwardly, he smashed with his other hand as well.

Wen Liuhe released the hand that had been rubbing at Shen Yu’s waist, rolled over, seized his wrist, and pinned both together. With one hand, he clamped them firmly against the bed head.

Shen Yu instinctively tried to summon the Evil-Exorcising Sword to sever his hand, but with a thought, he realized there was no spiritual energy. He strained futilely outward with both hands. His eyes, usually carrying a smile, were now filled with bone-chilling cold. “What are you doing?”

The thought that every one of his actions was now under Shen Yu’s watchful gaze excited Wen Liuhe to the point of madness.

He bent down and buried himself at Shen Yu’s collarbone. Right in front of him, he stuck out his tongue, deliberately slowing his movements to suck and kiss the bone, laving the wound with his slick tongue.

Shen Yu watched him coldly.

Wen Liuhe licked his dry lips, a wicked curve lifting at the corner of his mouth. He smiled and said,

“Of course I’m going to fuck you, Master.”

Shen Yu’s face instantly turned incredibly ugly.

Many years ago, when Wen Liuhe had cut off the Master Bell and said he wanted to marry him, Shen Yu hadn’t believed it, thinking it was just an excuse for his righteous fall to devilhood. When Wen Liuhe reappeared after seven years and said he wanted to top him, Shen Yu hadn’t believed it, assuming it was merely a means of revenge.

But only at this moment, treated in such presumptuous and rude a manner, did Shen Yu finally realize it with hindsight.

This child he had raised really did harbor feelings for him that he shouldn’t have.

Shen Yu’s face darkened as he lifted a leg to kick at Wen Liuhe—only to be pinned down completely.

With his spiritual energy bound, Shen Yu had never imagined he would fall to such a state. His chest heaved heavily twice. Looking at Wen Liuhe’s face, he couldn’t quell the rage boiling in his heart no matter what.

Panting, he cursed, “Get off.”

Wen Liuhe’s eyes darkened. A moment later, he suddenly laughed, his voice low and hoarse.

“Master, has anyone ever told you—

Even your panting when you’re angry is so seductive.”