After receiving Xie Shu’s summons, Wei Huai first simply treated the injuries on his hands. Then, led by a disciple, he was guided to Xie Shu’s Dao Field.
Cloud Moon Temple was located at the peak of Ask Dao Peak, but Xie Shu’s Dao Field was not within the temple. Instead, it lay in the back mountain of Ask Dao Peak.
A spell array enveloped the area outside the Dao Field. Without Xie Shu’s permission, no one could enter—not even the guiding disciple, who could only bring Wei Huai to the array’s entrance before stopping. “Benefactor Wei, please.”
Wei Huai stepped into the array, which was equivalent to entering Xie Shu’s Dao Field. As soon as he did, the sky shifted colors. Stars twinkled, but it was not night; instead, they emitted gorgeous, variegated lights like flowing, crystalline sand.
Several silver flying dragons circled in the sky, issuing clear, resonant dragon roars.
Rumors held that Xie Shu was the reincarnation of an immortal, born with dragons soaring in the heavens. Whether he was truly an immortal or not was debatable, but the flying dragons certainly existed, breeding and thriving right there in his Dao Field.
He was a man of great destiny, protected by true dragons.
The emergence of Cave Abyss and the proliferation of demons had occurred over three hundred years ago, but the dragon clan had existed even a millennium before that.
They were powerful and mysterious, exceedingly rare in number. After Cave Abyss’s birth eroded the world’s spiritual energy, many dragons swiftly declined and perished, making traces of the dragon clan even harder to find.
To this day, everyone knew of demons, but few knew of dragons, dismissing them as mere ancient legends.
Almost no one had ever seen a true dragon. Wei Huai had only glimpsed them once or twice in Xie Shu’s Dao Field; dragons elsewhere had likely gone extinct long ago.
The smallest silver dragon in the sky flew down, transforming into the form of a six- or seven-year-old child. In a childish voice, it said to Wei Huai, “Follow me.”
He was still a young dragon, unskilled in the Transformation Technique. Two dragon horns protruded from his head, and his skin faintly revealed the shape of dragon scales. He led Wei Huai to a hermitage, then scampered out with pattering footsteps. “I’ll go pour tea.”
Wei Huai flicked his robe aside and sat cross-legged on a cushion in a posture that was utterly free and unrestrained.
Xie Shu’s hermitage was simply furnished: an incense burner, a low table, a few cushions, and bookshelves packed with ancient tomes. Snow-white curtains divided off the inner chamber, but Wei Huai had seen it before—it contained only a guqin and a few cushions, nothing else, not even a bed. It was spartan to the extreme.
A tall, upright figure stood behind the curtains, its silhouette faintly visible: State Preceptor Xie Shu.
He did not step out to meet Wei Huai directly because Wei Huai had not stayed a full month in the temple and thus had failed to follow the rules he had set.
Xie Shu always had many peculiar rules, but they suited his temperament. He was like a cold wooden puppet, utterly indifferent and devoid of human warmth, concerned only with the eternal constancy of the Heavenly Dao and the everlasting sun and moon—everything else he ignored.
Wei Huai despised people like Xie Shu the most. Moreover, he had once suffered greatly because of him. Years ago, gravely injured and on the brink of death, his mother had begged Xie Shu to save him. Thanks to Xie Shu, he had been imprisoned in pitch-black darkness, unable to see his hand before his face, for a full half-year before being released.
Thus, he would never set foot in this inauspicious place like Cloud Moon Temple unless absolutely necessary. But now, he had no choice—who could he turn to but Xie Shu?
The Silver Dragon Child pushed open the door and entered, carrying a tray. He placed the tea and fruits on the low table and gestured to Wei Huai. “Eat the fruits, drink the tea.”
“Thank you.”
Wei Huai smiled, lifted the teacup, blew on the steam, took a sip, and then laughed toward the figure behind the curtains. “If I’d known that harboring murderous intent would let me see you, I would’ve slaughtered all your disciples first. It seems your so-called rules aren’t unbreakable after all.”
“What have you come for?”
Xie Shu spoke. His voice was young but exceptionally cold, like an icy spring that chilled to the bone.
Wei Huai set down the teacup and said solemnly, “My wife is missing. I’d like you to divine his whereabouts.”
Xie Shu replied, “I’ll need a personal item of his.”
Wei Huai handed over the damaged golden ankle bracelet. A hand with distinct joints extended from behind the curtains and took it.
Moments later, Xie Shu returned the ankle bracelet to Wei Huai and said, “He is in the Imperial Palace.”
“The Imperial Palace?”
Xie Shu’s divinations were infallible. Wei Huai paused. Indeed, he had turned all of Shangjing upside down in his search but had never checked the Imperial Palace.
The Imperial Palace… A Xue was in the Imperial Palace.
Wei Huai gripped the ankle bracelet tightly. His most instinctive reaction was not excitement, but worry.
The palace teemed with vicious demons. How could a little rabbit like A Xue protect himself while hiding there? Was he alright now?
Wei Huai could not sit still any longer. He rose immediately and headed for the door. But suddenly, a silver light shot out from behind the curtains and burrowed into his back.
Caught off guard, Wei Huai felt a powerful dizziness. His vision went black, and he collapsed to the ground with a thud.
The Silver Dragon Child poked his head in from the doorway and nudged him with his toe. Confirming no response, he immediately fetched dragon tendon and bound him securely.
After tying up Wei Huai, the Silver Dragon Child wiped sweat from his brow and asked Xie Shu, “Palace Lord, what next?”
“Throw him in the water prison until he completes his full month.”
Xie Shu said, “His killing intent is too strong. If released down the mountain now, he would surely cause trouble. Imprison him in the water dungeon as punishment first.”
“Understood, disciple.”
The Silver Dragon Child summoned two adult silver dragons, who carried Wei Huai away.
He closed the door. Just then, a breeze lifted the curtains.
Behind them appeared Xie Shu’s back. His figure was tall, his spine straight and broad. He wore plain white Daoist robes without a headdress, silver hair cascading down his back.
Atop his head grew two imposing silver dragon horns, which gleamed faintly under the kaleidoscopic sky lights.
—
After the decree enfeoffing the Noble Consort was issued, the palace promptly renovated the long-vacant Chenglu Palace to welcome Qixue’s residence.
Chenglu Palace had always housed successive Noble Consorts, its original furnishings already quite luxurious. Now, rearranged to empress standards, it resembled a jewel-encrusted paradise, opulent and extravagant to the extreme.
Pearls and emeralds, silks and satins, brocade pouches and jade scrolls, exotic flowers and rare plants… Countless priceless treasures flowed into Chenglu Palace like water, filling every sandalwood rack to the brim. No matter which room one entered, the eyes would be dazzled by the splendor and glittering jewels.
In just a few days, both the rear palace and the court buzzed with talk of His Majesty’s immense favor toward Noble Consort Qi.
Yet, no matter how splendidly Chenglu Palace was prepared, Qixue still did not move in. He had only viewed it once by day and continued residing in Helan Ji’s Chang Le Palace. The two made love almost every night, at least two or three times per evening.
Such intense lovemaking exhausted Qixue’s stamina, leaving him sleeping long into the day.
Helan Ji pitied him and sometimes did nothing but hold him to sleep. But Qixue not only failed to appreciate this consideration—he even seduced him. The result? Qixue ended up sobbing and begging for mercy, yet Helan Ji refused to stop midway as he wished.
“Yuan Yuan is such a greedy little pleasure-seeker.”
Helan Ji had once lightly tapped Qixue’s nose tip and said this. Qixue flushed crimson, indignant at heart but unable to retort.
He wasn’t greedy for pleasure at all… He did it all for His Majesty, circulating the Dual Cultivation Technique!
For Helan Ji’s sake, Qixue felt duty-bound. Even if misunderstood as a lusty little rabbit, he still clung to Helan Ji for intimacy every night, stuffing his belly full and then having Helan Ji rub it to help him release.
However, Qixue’s cultivation progress was not smooth. Every time he circulated the technique for three or four cycles, the pure spiritual energy would break off and dissipate, unable to continue, achieving only half the effect. He had no idea what the problem was.
Carrying this puzzle, Qixue waited a few days until Xuan Yang finally entered the palace.
Every half month or so, Xuan Yang came to deliver medicine—a simple task not originally his as chief disciple. He took it on to visit Qixue; in truth, Qixue was his reason for entering the palace.
Today, Xuan Yang arrived early, while Qixue still slept. Over half a shichen later, Qixue finally awoke, lazily lifted the bed curtains, and beckoned outward with a soft, “I want some water.”
Helan Ji had left several nightmare demons for Qixue’s use. He addressed one, but unexpectedly felt warm fingers when taking the cup.
Startled, Qixue peeked through a curtain gap and met Xuan Yang’s calm, gentle eyes.
“I happened to bring tea I grew myself.”
Xuan Yang smiled at him. “Drink it while it’s hot.”
“Ah…”
Qixue hadn’t expected Xuan Yang to serve him tea personally. Deeply surprised, he pushed his sore body up from the bed and bowed. “This disciple greets the Holy Monarch!”
Xuan Yang supported him with one hand, preventing the kneel. “A Xue needn’t stand on ceremony, nor call yourself ‘disciple.’ Come, drink the tea.”
He handed over the cup. Qixue took a few sips, then decided to heed Xuan Yang and drop the “disciple” title. Embarrassed, he asked, “Has the Holy Monarch been waiting long for me?”
Xuan Yang smiled faintly, reaching out to smooth his disheveled hair. “Not too long. You looked adorable sleeping; it was no hardship to watch a bit longer.”
Qixue’s face burned completely red. He wanted to appear steady and reliable before the Holy Monarch, yet always came off like an immature little rabbit, troubling him to indulge him.
Xuan Yang lowered his hand, his gaze sweeping over Qixue’s disheveled collar and exposed snowy shoulder. Rather than tidy it, he produced a porcelain vial from his sleeve. “I’ve brought the Baosui Pill you wanted.”
The Holy Monarch had brought the Baosui Pill!
Qixue’s eyes lit up. Forgetting his shyness, he joyfully opened the vial and poured out the pill.
The Baosui Pill was beautifully colored, its surface a pale purple with a sweet scent, like a smooth candy.
“Swallow it with water directly—don’t bite it, or it will lose efficacy,” Xuan Yang instructed.
Following this, Qixue took a sip of tea and swallowed the small pill whole. Fortunately, it was tiny and easy to take; otherwise, he worried he might instinctively bite it.
Once in his stomach, the Baosui Pill emanated a strange warmth, feeling incredibly comfortable.
Qixue touched his abdomen happily, his eyes shimmering. Could he now bear His Majesty’s child?
Both thrilled and shy, he kept rubbing his belly as if life already stirred within. Xuan Yang watched and suddenly asked, “Are you so happy to bear a child for Helan Ji?”
“Yes, happy.”
Qixue looked up with a smile. “This way, Ji Yuheng can’t inherit the throne. As long as he doesn’t become Crown Prince, His Majesty will be safe, and the Holy Monarch can rest easy.”
Xuan Yang fell silent for a moment, then asked, “If this child brought no benefits at all, would you still like him?”
“Um…” Qixue thought, then nodded quickly. “Yes, because he’s mine and His Majesty’s child.”
Xuan Yang lowered his eyes and chuckled softly. “Then I wish you success.”
“I get to be a mommy now…” Qixue muttered happily, beaming sweetly.
Xuan Yang watched him a while before saying, “Xu Taifei’s soul has no trace yet; it will take more time. How is your Dual Cultivation Technique progressing? Any bottlenecks?”
At this, Qixue inwardly marveled at the Holy Monarch’s perceptiveness. Embarrassed, he admitted, “I’ve hit a snag, but I’m probably too dull to pinpoint it…”
“Don’t belittle yourself, A Xue. You’re clever with high talent; you just lack experience. Recite the incantation for me—I’ll find the issue.”
Xuan Yang comforted him gently, placing a fingertip on his wrist pulse and signaling him to circulate the technique.
Qixue recited the incantation as instructed. As before, by the fourth cycle, the spiritual energy halted inexplicably, then dissipated, returning to calm.
Xuan Yang frowned slightly. “You did very well. The incantation is flawless; the circulation was excellent.”
“Then the problem is…” Qixue blinked.
Xuan Yang pondered briefly. “Have you ever suffered a severe injury?”
Qixue: “An arrow struck my right leg once; I lost a lot of blood and nearly died. Does that count?”
“…” Xuan Yang stiffened abruptly. “Who injured you?”
“A person who’s already dead,” Qixue said. “It was the former Third Prince, His Majesty’s third imperial brother. If His Majesty hadn’t saved me back then, I would have lost my life long ago… But that’s all in the past, and it doesn’t matter anymore. Will this wound affect my dual cultivation with His Majesty?”
“Let me take a look.”
Xuan Yang leaned down, grasped Qixue’s right foot, and placed it on his own thigh.
“Holy Monarch…! No, this is too disrespectful. I…”
Qixue saw Xuan Yang bowing his head before him like a worshiper, which already felt immensely rude. Now, with one foot stepping on Xuan Yang’s body, his face instantly flushed red with anxiety. He wanted to pull his foot back, but Xuan Yang pressed down on the top of his foot.
“You haven’t been disrespectful, A Xue. I am doing this willingly.”
Xuan Yang shook his head, lifted the sole of Qixue’s foot, and carefully examined his calf. He finally found the faint scar. It wasn’t very obvious—if one didn’t look closely, it was completely unnoticeable. But back then, that arrow had been driven in extremely deep, nearly costing Qixue his life.
“Holy Monarch…”
Qixue was extremely shy. His ten fingers clutched tightly at his sleeves, his toes curled uneasily, and his legs trembled slightly.
His features were exceedingly beautiful, and even his feet were elegantly formed. The top of his foot was snow-white, his toes pink and moist, his nails round and pinkish—utterly adorable.
Xuan Yang’s slender fingers traced over the arch of the foot, causing the top to tense up rigidly. He gently pressed on the scar, his already gentle voice softening even further. “Does it still hurt?”
Qixue said softly, “It hasn’t hurt for a long time.”
“Doesn’t it hurt when it’s rainy or overcast?”
“It doesn’t hurt,” Qixue said.
Back then, Helan Ji had taken excellent care of him, leaving no hidden ailments. Later, when he returned to Dali Mountain, Luxiangqiu had sent him a pile of supplements and ointments. He ate and applied them daily, so it was impossible for any issues to remain, and the scar had almost completely faded.
“That’s good. It didn’t damage the bone.”
As Xuan Yang spoke, a strand of spiritual power gathered at his fingertip. “When you circulate your energy, your spiritual qi doesn’t flow smoothly—likely due to a hidden injury in your meridians. I’ll heal it for you. After this, you should have no problems circulating your energy.”
“Wait a moment, Holy Monarch…” Qixue hurriedly stopped him.
“What’s wrong?” Xuan Yang looked up at him.
“If you heal the hidden injury, will the scar on my leg disappear too?” Qixue asked.
“Indeed, it won’t remain.” Xuan Yang smiled faintly, his tone indulgent. “So you’re still a little rabbit who loves beauty after all.”
Qixue stammered, “That’s not it, actually… I want to keep this scar. Holy Monarch, can you help me preserve it?”
“Why?” Xuan Yang asked. “Why do you want to keep it?”
“Because His Majesty is so slow and hasn’t realized yet that I’m the rabbit from back then.”
Qixue pouted coquettishly in complaint. “So I thought, if he discovers this scar later, maybe he’ll recognize me. I want him to figure it out on his own…”
“…”
The smile vanished from Xuan Yang’s face.
