Chapter 27: The Aftermath Part 3

Xiang Xian patted Wu Yingzong’s shoulder reassuringly and returned to the hall. Xiao Kun was gone, but the Tang Dao was back in place, and beside it sat a curved Bingtie Short Sword. Drawing it revealed Khitan script engraved on the blade, filling him with doubt.

“Xiao Kun?!” Xiang Xian called loudly, following the sound of water. “What happened on Mount Song?”

“You finally remembered.” Xiao Kun was bathing in the side courtyard. Cold water poured over him, making his skin gleam white as snow. His naked body revealed faint blue-green veins on his arms and thighs.

“So many wounds?” Xiang Xian approached. Xiao Kun’s injuries, influenced by his half-demon physique, mostly healed on their own, but faint red scars lingered, needing more time to fade completely. Xiang Xian saw sword wounds covering his chest, abdomen, lower back, and thighs.

“Who was waiting for you at Fengshan Terrace… Don’t touch!”

Xiang Xian placed a hand on Xiao Kun’s thigh. Xiao Kun tried to push him away, but Xiang Xian asked, “Does it hurt?”

Xiao Kun gripped Xiang Xian’s wrist and moved his hand aside, telling him not to grope. Xiang Xian sat nearby and looked up at Xiao Kun’s body. Xiao Kun roughly recounted what he’d encountered, but Xiang Xian suddenly felt something peculiar stirring in his heart at Xiao Kun’s physique.

It wasn’t his first time seeing it, but under the moonlight, Xiao Kun’s body resembled white jade.

His chest muscles flowed beautifully. From practicing the Tang Dao, his arms were sturdy and powerful, his waist narrow, abs neatly defined, legs smooth and pale, with a pronounced curve to his hips. Red scars dotted his side, clearly from blocking a storm of sword strikes with his right half during combat. Just imagining the pain made Xiang Xian ache.

Yet picturing Xiao Kun drenched in blood evoked a mesmerizing beauty.

Xiao Kun was explaining the Shaoshi Mountain incident when Xiang Xian zoned out. Xiao Kun glanced at him and saw his gaze roaming his body, stirring a reaction.

Xiao Kun: “Are you listening?! Where are you looking?!”

Xiang Xian burst out laughing. Xiao Kun flushed crimson and hastily wrapped a bathrobe around himself.

Xiang Xian followed Xiao Kun back to his room, just wanting to be close a bit longer, but Xiao Kun, face red, only wanted to shut the door.

“Hey! Why so shy? Come on, let’s go out for drinks.”

Xiang Xian clung to the doorframe. Xiao Kun meant to slam the door in his face but caught Xiang Xian’s hand. Xiang Xian yelped dramatically, startling Xiao Kun. “Does it hurt?”

Xiang Xian said solemnly, “No, but it nearly did.”

Xiao Kun: “Get lost! This official needs to change!”

Xiang Xian found it hilarious and went to bathe himself. Finally, Wu Yingzong served dinner, and everyone returned to normal.

“We still need the Heart Lamp.”

Halfway through the meal, Xiao Kun suddenly spoke.

“Yeah,” Xiang Xian agreed. “After this year’s over, we need to set out as soon as possible.”

According to ancient records in the Exorcism Division, the Heart Lamp held immense exorcism power. Its Heart Lamp Light could dispel demonic qi—even the legendary Demon King had nowhere to hide before its world-illuminating glow. If they’d had it today, the battle wouldn’t have been so grueling. Under its power, they could’ve easily exorcised the possessing demon, forced the enemy to reveal itself, and slain it with the Wisdom Sword.

Chaosheng had been a bit distracted. Xiao Kun guessed it was because of Wu Yingzong. Glancing outside the hall, he saw Wu Yingzong, as steward, kneeling on the footrest at the door, waiting to serve as summoned—he never joined them at the table.

“We’re all tired,” Xiao Kun said. “Rest early. We’ll handle the rest tomorrow.”

Xiao Kun had used up all his strength that day and was utterly exhausted, so he returned to his room early and lay down on the couch. Suddenly, he heard a sound outside the room.

Xiao Kun turned over and said, “No drinking, let me rest for a bit. Lord Xiao is very tired.”

But Xiang Xian replied, “I have something to say. Open the door.”

Xiao Kun thought to himself, What could there be that can’t wait until tomorrow? But he didn’t dislike Xiang Xian—in fact, far from it. Xiang Xian standing outside the door even filled him with a faint sense of anticipation. Ever since Sa Luan had been abducted, the Liao Kingdom had fallen, and Shangjing had been overrun, Xiao Kun had felt that the mortal world held nothing more for him. All his ties had been severed.

Yet after getting to know Xiang Xian, he suddenly found himself burdened with new responsibilities. That youthful fire, worn down and nearly extinguished through endless trials, began to flicker back to life.

“The door isn’t bolted.” Xiao Kun, dressed in a single thin layer of clothing, sat up, and Xiang Xian pushed the door open and came in.

Xiang Xian wore a bathrobe, his hair loose and unbound, moonlight falling across the side of his face.

“Feeling any better?” Xiang Xian asked, sitting down by the couch and placing his hand on Xiao Kun’s clean ankle.

Xiao Kun replied, “A day at the quickest, three days at the latest. No need to worry about me. I’ve been through this for years.”

From the age of sixteen, Xiao Kun had battled the monsters of the Northern Lands. Without Xiang Xian’s Wisdom Sword to intimidate the hordes, he had forged his reputation as a Grand Demon-Exorcist through sheer, brutal combat—one slash at a time. Before he had fully mastered his arts, he often emerged from fights drenched in his own blood.

“You promised me,” Xiang Xian said earnestly, “no more fighting like that from now on.”

The corner of Xiao Kun’s mouth twitched upward slightly. Xiang Xian’s expression grew even more solemn as he continued, “I’ll protect you too, Xiao Kun. No matter how strong the enemy, we’ll face them together. Unless it’s absolutely necessary, no more Blood Sacrifice. I don’t want to see you hurt this badly again.”

Xiao Kun gazed into Xiang Xian’s eyes. He wanted to say: Then you should cultivate properly too. Work hard to truly master the Wisdom Sword and make it yours.

But those words didn’t come out.

From the moment he could understand such things, Xiang Xian was the only one who truly cared that he threw himself into the fray so recklessly. Even her master, Le Wan Shuang, had never paid it any mind—as if she had long grown accustomed to his self-destructive ways.

“Got it,” Xiao Kun said at last.