Chapter 11

“You—you’re spouting nonsense!” Ning Yuanshui finally seemed to snap out of it, his face flushed red as he stammered in anger.

With that, he bolted toward his RV and slammed the door shut tight, not leaving even the slightest gap.

Bai Chen walked over to Chu Xuzhou’s side. He could feel the heat radiating from him the moment he got close. “Why haven’t you gotten your body temperature under control yet?”

Bai Chen wasn’t pleased. They’d fought before, so he knew exactly what Chu Xuzhou was capable of. Controlling his own body temperature should have been child’s play for him—heck, he could probably regulate the temperature of an entire city. For his temperature to still be running this high meant he was just ignoring Bai Chen’s advice.

“Sorry, I can’t control it,” Chu Xuzhou said.

Bai Chen half-believed him. “Then let me cool you down.”

He reached out and grasped Chu Xuzhou’s wrist. A layer of frost formed in his palm as a steady stream of chilling energy flowed through the veins into Chu Xuzhou’s body. It wasn’t long before Bai Chen pulled his hand away.

A sheen of sweat covered his palm. Not only had his chill failed to lower the feverish heat inside Chu Xuzhou—it had been swallowed up by an even greater wave of scorching warmth.

It was like tossing a cup of ice water onto a volcano on the verge of eruption; the chill evaporated into scalding steam amid the molten fury.

Right now, a volcano like that was brewing inside Chu Xuzhou.

Bai Chen eyed his otherwise perfectly normal-looking body with puzzlement. He licked his lips and reached out to try again, but Chu Xuzhou caught his hand in a scorching grip. “It’s no use. Don’t waste your energy.”

“Is it the blood you drew from me? Did it mutate inside your body?” Bai Chen asked, puzzled. No sooner had the words left his mouth than he felt Chu Xuzhou’s hand grow even hotter, like the volcano was about to blow.

That had to be it.

Bai Chen nodded, showing his concern as the owner. “Want me to suck it back out for you?”

“No need.” Chu Xuzhou’s grip tightened on his hand, his voice sounding as if it had been scorched by flames.

Bai Chen’s hand was enveloped in that blistering heat. It didn’t hurt much, but the dense, prickling warmth of affection seeping from it into his body carried a faint, tingling sting.

He stared at the hand that was steadily pouring this affection into him, feeling a dizzying sense of indulgence. Then Chu Xuzhou’s voice rumbled down from above.

“Bai Chen… the director’s looking for you.”

The director wanted Bai Chen to shoot an extra scene that afternoon.

He’d been impressed by Bai Chen’s last take and wanted to capture that momentum by having him film the other scene where he was bound by the Vascular Strangeness.

“No way,” Bai Chen said. “I’m so tired. My body’s weak—I need to sleep it off.”

“…”

He looked genuinely exhausted, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears, his body swaying as if it might give out any second.

“Alright then,” the director said. “That last scene was tough on you. Take a break. We’ll get ready for Ning Yuanshui’s scenes.”

The director figured if Bai Chen could nail such a difficult scene smoothly, then Ning Yuanshui—with his polished acting skills—should breeze through his. But Ning Yuanshui was way off his game, flubbing take after take.

The director sighed. “Yuanshui, at this rate, what are we going to do when Celestial Master Qiao shows up?”

Ning Yuanshui clutched his script tightly, his voice tense. “Celestial Master Qiao—is he definitely coming?”

The director nodded. “Pretty much.”

Just as the director said, Qiao Qingshuang was planning to head over.

He wasn’t happy when he got the news. He sat in his study stewing in silence for a good while. “I knew it—they won’t let me have a single peaceful day. One thing after another. Back then, I said we should wipe out every last Strangeness entity, kill them all, and then none of this crap would bother me anymore.”

The two people standing outside the study both tensed up and bowed their heads at those words.

Lu Dong, clutching the thermos bucket in his arms, was especially nervous.

Du Feili had drilled it into him a thousand times: keep Celestial Master Qiao’s emotions stable at all costs. But right now, there was nothing he could do.

Before they even arrived at Frost Mountain, Du Feili had laid out a plan for how they’d infiltrate it.

Frost Mountain wasn’t some divine paradise full of celestial masters from the start. It had been an ordinary hill with just a few farm families living on it. Then Qiao Qingshuang fought a massive battle there against Strangeness King Yin Bujie, driving him deep underground. To keep Yin Bujie from resurfacing, Qiao Qingshuang settled there among those farmers.

As the great Qiao Qingshuang, he naturally drew crowds of celestial masters and dignitaries seeking audience. Gradually, more celestial masters moved in. Dignitaries built grand estates up the slopes, and at the base sprang up lively Frost Mountain Street.

Du Feili’s plan was for them to find work on Frost Mountain Street—ideally landing a gig at Old Liu Farmhouse Cuisine, since Qiao Qingshuang loved their food.

As Team Three’s captain, Lu Dong had gone first to Old Liu Farmhouse Cuisine looking for a job. But they weren’t hiring. Desperate, he threw himself on their mercy, sobbing about how homeless and pitiful he was, begging the boss for a chance to earn a meal.

To his surprise, it paid off. The boss said, “My place is small—three servers are plenty. But I need a delivery runner. You have to take ingredients up the mountain every day. It’s tough work, rain or shine, and you’ll be out in wind, snow, whatever. You look sturdy enough. Interested?”

Lu Dong nodded eagerly. “Don’t worry, boss—I’ll be there come hell or high water!”

Only then did he learn what “tough” really meant.

The roads up Frost Mountain were well-maintained, but the paths where you could ride a little electric scooter didn’t reach every house—especially not the reclusive types tucked away in the oddest corners. He’d have to hike there and back.

And that was the least of it.

Frost Mountain was a unique place. It had once suppressed the Strangeness King and tens of thousands of Evil Anomalies, leaving it thick with Eerie Qi. At the same time, Qiao Qingshuang and countless celestial masters lived there, their righteous aura permeating the air. Ordinary folks exposed to this clash of forces developed strange abilities of their own.

One guy loved his seclusion—real physical isolation. You could spot his place from afar, but by the time you got there, it would vanish. Lu Dong spent two hours banging on the door before the man finally answered in a hollow voice: “No one comes near me except Celestial Master Qiao and Xiao Li.”

He handed over the food, and the door slammed shut.

“…”

Every delivery felt like an expedition. To make it on time, his dozen teammates pitched in just to cover one person’s route.

No wonder the last delivery guy quit.

But finally, when he was utterly exhausted, the boss tasked him with a delivery to Celestial Master Qiao.

It was a small pot of snow pear chicken head rice soup. Fresh off the stove, the boss poured it straight into the thermos and said, “Get it to Celestial Master Qiao as fast as you can.”

Lu Dong was surprised. From what Du Feili had told him, Qiao Qingshuang—despite his refined looks—was a total carnivore. He frequented Old Liu Farmhouse Cuisine for their free-range mountain chickens.

He could polish off a roast chicken, a stir-fried one, and a braised bird in a single sitting, then top it off with chicken soup.

But chicken head rice? Sure, “chicken” was in the name, but it had zilch to do with actual chicken. It was just a pot of veggie soup. They were making a special trip for this and not tossing in some meat for Celestial Master Qiao?

Puzzled by that, he zipped up on his little electric scooter right to Celestial Master Qiao’s courtyard gate without a hitch. Waiting at the study door, he overheard those terrifying words.

Frost Mountain was still peaceful for now, but he was already on the verge of dropping dead. If Qiao Qingshuang lost it and cracks split the mountain…

He didn’t dare imagine it. He really didn’t.

Lu Dong tucked the thermos into his puffy jacket and glanced at the celestial master across from him, trying to signal with his eyes: Should he knock? What if it got cold?

As they fumbled through this silent exchange, the study door swung open.

A crisp, cold plum blossom fragrance wafted out, and a slender pale hand reached toward him.

Lu Dong froze. This didn’t look like the hand of someone who’d slain tens of thousands of Evil Anomalies. It was thin and delicate, its strength hinted at only by the faint ridges of knuckles beneath translucent skin.

Snapping to, he reverently offered the thermos from inside his jacket with both hands.

Qiao Qingshuang took it and turned down a nearby path lined with plum groves.

Frost Mountain was blanketed in red plum blossoms. Qiao Qingshuang glided through them in his white robes amid the wind-scattered petals, his features even more strikingly vivid than the blooms themselves.

The man beside Lu Dong let out a relieved breath. “Good, good. Crisis averted.”

“Why?” Lu Dong asked nervously. “Just now… Celestial Master Qiao felt so scary. Like he was about to kill someone… like a Strangeness entity.”

The celestial master glanced at the Old Liu Family delivery uniform peeking out from Lu Dong’s jacket. “You’re the new delivery guy from Old Liu Family, right?”

This friendly celestial master shared a key survival tip for Frost Mountain: When the notoriously moody Celestial Master Qiao’s emotions start fraying, send over his little brother.

Lu Dong’s heart skipped. He couldn’t believe it—he’d just arrived and already unlocked a lifesaver?

“Look at that direction. Uncle Master Qiao’s off to bring his brother some soup. Handles any problem, big or small,” Su Xuan said cheerfully.

“Celestial Master Qiao’s brother is that powerful?” Lu Dong asked in astonishment.

There was no brother for Qiao Qingshuang in the novel, and Du Feili had never mentioned one. Where did this guy pop up from—and why was he such a miracle worker?

“Powerful? Eh, not exactly,” Su Xuan replied. “You’ll meet him eventually. Xiao Li loves Old Liu’s snow pear chicken head rice soup.”

Xiao Li?

Lu Dong had heard that name from the mouth of the “reclusive” resident up the mountain too.

Lu Dong said, “Sounds like Celestial Master Qiao really loves his little brother.”

“Mm.” Su Xuan gave only that simple sound in reply. There was no need to say more to an outsider—and he couldn’t put it into words anyway.

He watched Qiao Qingshuang’s receding figure, that slender back evoking the silhouette of a youth. Qiao Qingshuang wasn’t a boy, of course, but the man whom countless celestial masters called Ancestor Master was only twenty-five. When he’d pinned the Strangeness King and his tens of thousands of Evil Anomalies underground, he’d just turned twenty.

If the world had such a thing as a peerless genius, it was surely him.

But a genius atop the mountain peak was always alone. From childhood, he’d shouldered a burden beyond ordinary folk—a prodigious talent laced with a curse from the heavens.

Word was, when he was only five, a venerable old celestial master had pointed at him and declared him a Heavenly Killing Lone Star, doomed to bring death to his father, mother, and every blood relative.

His master later proved it mere jealousy on that elder’s part; Qiao Qingshuang was touched by the secrets of heaven. But his parents had indeed died one after the other in his youth. His clansmen perished, vanished, or fled, leaving a century-old celestial master lineage in ruins—all to raise up this singular genius.

A peerless genius was no ordinary soul. Even as a child, he might not have heeded such rumors or doubted himself. But he’d always been alone.

Until his little brother found him.

Frost Mountain wasn’t one for idle gossip on back paths, but the story went that Celestial Master Qiao had wept through the entire night when he reunited with his brother.

What nonsense. This was Qiao Qingshuang—the man everyone revered in awe and fear.

Still, there was a kernel of truth to the gossip. Anyone who’d spent time around him knew just how unstable this genius celestial master’s emotions could be.

Su Xuan had no idea if there was any truth to this gossip, but that day he had seen it for himself. His genius Uncle Master, upon catching sight of his younger brother, had let that hand—which had never so much as trembled while slaying tens of thousands of evil ghosts—quiver ever so slightly.