Chu Hanjin stared down at his hand, the one Yue Lin had just kissed.

There were no visible marks, but it was faintly damp.

A rush of heat and an uncontrollable sense of panic surged through him. Chu Hanjin cursed under his breath, “Scoundrel!” Then he turned and hurried toward the more crowded area.

His mind was a chaotic mess.

This man was outrageous, so outrageous.

Who gave him permission to kiss his hand?

And in broad daylight, right under everyone’s noses!

Chu Hanjin kept walking, his thoughts racing, when he heard Yue Lin’s voice behind him. “Where are we going?”

Chu Hanjin answered, “To the deceased’s room.”

Yue Lin: “You’re going the wrong way.”

“…………”

The deceased’s room was in the side chamber, to the right of the second door. Bamboo grew nearby, indicating that the young master had a refined taste in life. Now, though, the corridor was lined with talismans, and women and men in charge of the funeral rites were chanting incantations in the courtyard, scattering paper money to the wind.

When Chu Hanjin and Yue Lin entered the courtyard, the ritualists glanced at them but continued chanting. However, two Rongku Sect cultivators standing nearby asked, “What are you doing here?”

Yue Lin replied, “We’re here to pay our respects. It’s a pity about the young master’s death.”

The cultivator shook his head and snapped, “Leave, leave! We’re busy here. Don’t break the taboos.”

Not allowed to observe, they had no choice but to leave.

But just as they reached the door, Chu Hanjin said, “I’ve figured it out. They’re chanting a Wang Sheng spell.”

Yue Lin: “Hmm?”

“The Rongku Sect’s talisman spells—I studied some of them before,” Chu Hanjin explained. “That’s a basic spell to suppress vengeful spirits. It encourages evil souls to give up their grievances and move on, no longer causing harm.”

Yue Lin: “You know Rongku Sect spells?”

Chu Hanjin glanced at him. “Back at the sanctuary, there was a high-ranking Rongku Sect disciple who taught me some. But putting that aside, why would they chant a soul-suppressing spell instead of a soul-comforting or soul-soothing spell after death?”

Something wasn’t right, very not right.

Yue Lin lowered his lashes and asked, “Did he really die an unnatural death?”

Chu Hanjin nodded. “That’s the only explanation.”

Thinking about the arrogant demeanor of those cultivators, Chu Hanjin felt a growing sense of unease.

The Rongku Sect, as one of the Six Great Sects, held immense power and was a model for all cultivators. Yet here, its members were committing murder openly, without even bothering to conceal their actions.

If word of this got out, the Rongku Sect would lose all face.

Circling around to the back of the courtyard, Chu Hanjin suddenly thought of something. “Do you think he lured me to the northern desert just to show me this?”

To expose the Rongku Sect’s sins in front of him, and then…

Chu Hanjin felt as though he was starting to understand something, but it was still unclear. The two of them had already reached the back of the courtyard. No one was around. Yue Lin easily blew open the door and jumped inside.

He fetched a stool, placing it by the window. “Come on, step on it.”

“……”

Chu Hanjin wasn’t that delicate.

Stepping on the stool, he landed inside the room. The air inside was cold and eerie, piercing his skin like needles.

The room had been tidied up, with no sign of the bloody aftermath. However, Chu Hanjin crouched in the corner, rubbing his fingers together, and gestured to Yue Lin. “There’s blood.”

Despite repeated cleaning, the bloodstains here hadn’t been fully removed.

One could only imagine how gruesome the death had been.

Chu Hanjin said, “I’ll try summoning the soul.” Perhaps they could call forth the young master’s spirit and ask about his death.

He drew a circle on the ground, placing a talisman inside it. If the young master’s soul returned, the talisman would rise into the air.

But after Chu Hanjin finished reciting the entire incantation, the talisman remained motionless.

Chu Hanjin looked around the dark, eerie room and said, “His soul has been taken away.”

He glanced out the window, where the group outside was playing wind instruments and chanting incantations. “If I’m not mistaken, they got to it first.”

When someone dies unnaturally, their vengeful spirit lingers at the site of their death, waiting for justice. But if these people had hurriedly taken the spirit away, it meant they were trying to cover something up or intended to use the vengeful spirit for some purpose.

As they were pondering this, the sound of footsteps echoed from outside the door.

Chu Hanjin glanced at Yue Lin. “Let’s go.”

In an instant, they were outside, standing in the courtyard.

Nearby, a servant called out, “The banquet is starting! Hurry and get some food while it’s hot!”

Chu Hanjin still wanted to discuss things with Yue Lin, but to his surprise, Yue Lin casually walked in the direction of the banquet, smiling as he said, “Let’s go eat first.”

Chu Hanjin followed him. “You…”

After the servant had walked away, Yue Lin leaned in close and whispered, “Come on, let’s eat and ask around. Isn’t there a saying? You can’t find out the truth of any story without asking the old ladies at the village entrance.”

“……”

Chu Hanjin gave him a deep, thoughtful look.

For someone like Lord Yue Zhao, who rarely mingled with mortals, this was quite the unconventional approach.

They entered the front hall where the banquet was being held. Most of the guests were already seated—merchants and wealthy businessmen at one table, cultivators and immortals at another, and ordinary townsfolk seated together, all coexisting peacefully.

The servant gestured. “Please, Immortals, sit here.”

Yue Lin declined. “No need. We’ll just sit anywhere. You go ahead.” He then walked over to where a group of middle-aged women were seated, munching on sunflower seeds, and pulled out a bench to sit down.

“……”

The women, with their kind, friendly faces, were busy gossiping about everyone around them. They knew every detail, down to the mole on the waist of a distant relative’s son.

Yue Lin waved at Chu Hanjin. “Coming?”

Could he refuse at this point?

Chu Hanjin glanced around and, with small steps, walked over to sit beside Yue Lin. The women’s gazes immediately fixated on him. “This Immortal… He’s so…”

The women of the northern desert were straightforward, taking a moment to find the right word.

“Wow, he’s stunning.”

“……”

Chu Hanjin lowered his lashes, maintaining his usual composed demeanor. But here, surrounded by these women, his refined appearance had little effect. All he could hear was a barrage of questions. “Immortal, are you married?”

Chu Hanjin: “No.”

“Do you have someone you like?”

“No.”

“Why aren’t you married yet? Aren’t your parents worried?”

“……”

Yue Lin poured himself a cup of wine, chuckling as he listened.

Chu Hanjin shot him an annoyed glance, and Yue Lin finally stopped enjoying the show. “Yeah, they’re worried. We’ll only be staying in Fengliu City for a few days. After that, he’ll head home to get married.”

The women widened their eyes. “He’s engaged?”

Chu Hanjin’s expression showed a hint of distress. Yue Lin nodded. “Yes, he’s already got someone. So, Aunties, no need to match him with anyone. He’s soon to be a married man and won’t be able to handle it, haha.”

Only then did the questioning about Chu Hanjin’s love life stop. The women turned their attention to Yue Lin. “Are you married?”

Yue Lin answered without hesitation. “Married.”

He glanced at Chu Hanjin. “And my wife is already pregnant.”

“Oh dear, how unfortunate.” “These days, young people are getting married so early.” “I was just thinking of matching him with my niece.” After a few complaints, the conversation finally moved away from the topic of marriage.

It was at this point that Yue Lin asked, “My friend and I traveled from afar and heard about the tragedy with Master Zhou’s son, so we came to pay our respects. He was so young. How did he pass away so suddenly? What a pity.”

The women’s faces were filled with sorrow. “Yes, such a shame, such a shame.”

Yue Lin added meaningfully, “So young…”

Unable to resist, the women began to chatter all at once.

“I heard he wasn’t clean. He used to frequent the brothels and caught some disease. He never got better, and that’s how he died. But the family didn’t want to admit it because it would’ve been too embarrassing, so they didn’t say anything about the cause of death.”

“Not clean? He seemed like such a good person. I was even thinking of matching my niece with him. But his health wasn’t great. He was always on medication, maybe he caught something that couldn’t be cured.”

“It was definitely a dirty disease! I even picked up his medicine a few times…”

Amid the gossip, one woman, her lips tight and her eyes red and swollen, suddenly stood up and shouted, “You don’t know anything! Stop spreading rumors!”

Yue Lin cracked a peanut and placed it in Chu Hanjin’s hand.

But Chu Hanjin wasn’t in the mood to eat. His attention was on the woman.

She stomped her foot. “He was cursed to death!”

With that, she threw off her apron and left the table.

The abrupt outburst left everyone stunned for a moment before someone said, “That was Nanny Wang. She nursed Master Zhou from birth, so she probably knows more than we do.”

“She must’ve been upset because we were talking about the young master’s innocence.”

“Yeah, we shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

Yue Lin nodded solemnly. “You’re right. Spreading rumors about diseases isn’t respectful to the deceased. Let’s stop discussing it for the sake of his reputation.”

Then, out of nowhere, someone muttered, “If they cared so much about reputation, they shouldn’t have invited that kind of person.”

Hearing this, Chu Hanjin’s gaze shifted.

The others followed suit.

They saw a youth, dressed flamboyantly, standing out awkwardly in the crowd with heavy makeup and an air of gaudy extravagance.

It was Xiao Die, the young man from the brothel.

And judging by the reaction around him, everyone looked down on him.

But he ignored the stares, closing his parasol as he found a seat and began helping himself to the food, not caring if others had gathered yet. He casually picked out the best dishes, his manner both coarse and unrefined, yet with a certain charm on his sweet, youthful face.

He gnawed on a chicken leg, fully aware of the eyes on him.

Moments later, a pair of figures approached—Chenyang and Luoyang, the Rongku Sect Daoists, walking side by side, one stern, the other flirtatious.

As they neared, Xiao Die looked up at Luoyang, who was walking on the right.

He smiled before lowering his head to continue eating.

It was clear that the two were heading toward Chu Hanjin’s direction. Yue Lin remained unfazed, but Chu Hanjin’s eyelid twitched, feeling the impending social death moment approaching.

Master Chenyang spoke first. “Forgive my rudeness. I wasn’t aware you were Lord Yue Zhao of the Far Mountain Sect.”

Chu Hanjin maintained his composed expression. “No need for formalities.”

“Since you’re passing through, I’ve long admired your grace. Might I invite you for some tea?”

The Six Great Sects had an alliance, and hospitality between sects was customary. Even if Chu Hanjin didn’t want to drink tea, as a representative of the Far Mountain Sect, refusing would be seen as disrespectful to the Rongku Sect.

Yue Lin set down his chopsticks.

Luoyang’s eyes lingered on Chu Hanjin as he raised his brows. “Shall we, Lord Yue Zhao?”

There was a veiled accusation in his words, not just an invitation but also a subtle reprimand for entering their territory without announcing themselves—an act of poor etiquette in the orthodox circles.

Yue Lin helped Chu Hanjin to his feet. After a moment of thought, he pointed at Luoyang and said, “This morning, on the street, you were the one who threw a hairpin at Lord Yue Zhao, weren’t you?”

Luoyang: “That was me.”

“Well, at least you have the courage to admit it. I’ve heard this hairpin has a nickname, ‘The Evil Embroidered Ball.’ Throwing it at someone means you’ve taken a fancy to them and intend to possess them. You threw it at Lord Yue Zhao. What were your intentions? Don’t you think that’s disrespectful?”

Luoyang looked surprised. “How could there be such a nickname? There’s an ancient tradition of showering flowers like rain, gifting beautiful fruit, all to honor beauty. I was merely expressing my admiration for Lord Yue Zhao’s elegance, with no intention of impropriety. You’ve wronged me with that accusation.”

Yue Lin smiled. “You’re right. You, a mere town guard of Fengliu City, daring to covet Lord Yue Zhao—compared to the moon, you’re just a flickering firefly. It’s a bit ridiculous and arrogant.”

There was a clear undercurrent in his words.

Luoyang held his forehead, looking exasperated. “You’re being too aggressive, my friend. If my act of throwing the hairpin offended you, I’ll admit my mistake. After all, Lord Yue Zhao is renowned. By the way, who might you be?”

He was asking for Yue Lin’s name.

Since they rarely encountered people from other sects in this northern region, the two of them had discussed earlier and figured out that this was Chu Hanjin, but they were still clueless about Yue Lin’s identity.

Yue Lin replied indifferently, “I’m Lord Yue Zhao’s servant.”

Luoyang burst into laughter. “A servant? But I’ve heard you claimed earlier to be Lord Yue Zhao’s lover. Ah, it must’ve been a joke—something I almost believed.”

“……”

Yue Lin licked his teeth but said nothing.

If it were the old him, he would’ve whipped that smug smile off Luoyang’s face.

But now, for the sake of the bigger picture, he held his tongue. Luoyang continued, “Shall we?”

His voice was gentle, but each word was like a soft blade.

Chu Hanjin frowned. He understood that the more someone lavished him with praise, the more they intended to use him against others.

He exchanged a glance with Yue Lin before stepping forward.

“You two are distinguished guests, high in status. How did you end up sitting among the locals? They gossip and aren’t exactly clean, but fortunately, I noticed in time and brought you out,” Luoyang remarked as he led the way.

Beside him, the usually silent Chenyang shot them a sideways glance, his tone blunt. “Lord Yue Zhao, what brings you to the Rongku Sect?”

Clearly, he lacked Luoyang’s finesse, his words tinged with displeasure.

Chu Hanjin replied curtly, “It’s a confidential mission. I can’t divulge the details.”

Since his rank was higher than theirs, his tone was stiff, and Luoyang had to smooth things over. “Of course, we didn’t mean to pry, just wondering if we could be of any assistance.”

The tension eased slightly, and Chu Hanjin responded more kindly. “If I need help, I’ll seek it out.”

Luoyang smiled again. “Of course.”

This man had a flirtatious air, with peach blossom eyes and a voice laced with a hint of laughter. His zhuyeqing Daoist robes were worn like a rich young master’s silk robes, exuding elegance and grace.

But his gaze kept lingering on Chu Hanjin.

Yue Lin chuckled suddenly. “Daoist friend, I heard a nickname about you today, and after meeting you, I must say it fits you perfectly.”

Luoyang blinked. “What is it?”

Yue Lin replied, “The Jade-faced Asura.”

Luoyang: “Oh? What does it mean?”

“It means you’re both lustful and violent.”

“……”

The head table, directly facing the coffin, was reserved for close friends and relatives of the Zhou family, wealthy merchants, and, of course, a spot for the renowned Rongku Sect cultivators.

Luoyang gestured grandly. “Please, take your seat.”

As Chu Hanjin was about to sit down, he noticed someone else already seated.

The man wore a blue robe and held a fan, his hair tied in a jade crown, with two flowers braided into it. His appearance was refined, if somewhat pale. Though not overly handsome, his gentle smile gave off a spring-like warmth.

Luoyang introduced him. “Allow me to introduce. This is Lord Yue Zhao of the Far Mountain Sect. And this is a friend I met during a recent patrol—his name is Bai Gu.”

Chu Hanjin gave him a glance but didn’t pay much attention.

But as he sat down, he heard Luoyang’s surprised voice. “Daoist friend, why don’t you sit?”

Chu Hanjin looked up, noticing that Yue Lin had gripped the back of the chair tightly, veins faintly bulging on his hand, his gaze fixed on the cultivator named Bai Gu, eyes filled with rage.

A wave of violent energy surged from Yue Lin, but only for a brief moment. He quickly pulled out the chair and sat beside Chu Hanjin.

Bai Gu cupped his hands. “Lord Yue Zhao, I’ve long admired you.”

Chu Hanjin lowered his lashes, murmuring a polite response, while Yue Lin’s voice came through a spiritual transmission: “Something’s wrong with this place.”

Chu Hanjin’s heart skipped a beat as he glanced at him.

Yue Lin continued in the transmission: “This is indeed a trap. After we finish eating, we should leave.”

Chu Hanjin responded with a silent nod.

Yue Lin had been calm when they encountered Chenyang and Luoyang, but the moment he saw Bai Gu, his mood darkened. If Chu Hanjin wasn’t mistaken, Bai Gu had a connection to Yue Lin. Or perhaps, Yue Lin recognized him.

Luoyang raised his cup. “I recently met Daoist Bai Gu, and today I have the honor of meeting Lord Yue Zhao. Such an influx of distinguished guests these past few days, haha… Let’s drink to that!”

Yue Lin blocked him. “Lord Yue Zhao doesn’t drink.”

Bai Gu looked at Yue Lin for a moment, then smiled. “How do you know he doesn’t drink? Luoyang, you haven’t introduced this Daoist friend yet.”

Luoyang clapped his forehead. “Oh, I forgot. This is Lord Yue Zhao’s servant. May I have your name?”

“Yue Lin.”

Luoyang repeated the name a few times: “Yue Lin.”

But Bai Gu kept repeating a different word, softly mumbling: “Servant, servant…”

As if he found the title suspicious.

At this point, Chu Hanjin asked, “Do you two know each other?”

Bai Gu replied, “Not exactly. This Daoist friend just resembles my ninth brother. But he passed away over twenty years ago.”

Chu Hanjin: “And who might your ninth brother be?”

This was a bit intrusive. In normal conversation, one would stop before asking such a personal question, as digging into someone’s past like this was considered impolite.

But since Chu Hanjin had asked, Bai Gu answered earnestly, “My ninth brother. He looks almost exactly like my ninth brother. I almost mistook him for the same person.”

The atmosphere around the table grew tense.

Luoyang, curious, remarked, “Your ninth brother? You’ve never mentioned him before…”

Bai Gu continued to smile at Yue Lin. “Daoist friend, do you have any siblings?”

Recalling the story Yue Lin had shared in the cursed forest, Chu Hanjin could almost guess that Bai Gu might truly be Yue Lin’s younger brother. They were connected somehow.

However, Yue Lin didn’t seem keen on talking about his past, nor did he seem eager to re-enter the world. Digging into his past would only upset him, wouldn’t it?

Chu Hanjin replied curtly, “You’ve mistaken him.”

With those words, the tension lifted, and everyone laughed, raising their cups. “To drinking!”

The liquor, a local specialty from the northern desert called Huangtai, was incredibly strong. A single sip seared the throat, burning through the lungs.

Opposite Chu Hanjin, Bai Gu took a sip of the liquor and said, “To be honest, I miss my ninth brother dearly. When I was young, I was reckless and did many things that hurt him. I broke his heart. Now that I want to make amends, my ninth brother is long gone. It makes me so sad, I could beat my chest in regret.”

Chu Hanjin held his tea cup, remaining silent.

Beside him, Yue Lin also said nothing.

Bai Gu, frail as he seemed, continued to drink the potent liquor, his face turning pale as he coughed violently, almost choking. “Huangtai… It was my ninth brother’s favorite wine. The memories it brings… If only he could return. I’d tell him how sorry I am. I don’t want anything else, just his forgiveness.”

“……”

Ordinarily, hearing such words would make someone feel that the sentiment was genuine.

But the more Chu Hanjin listened, the more uneasy he felt.

It was as if someone had come to the court to file a grievance, having done so many times before, but this time, they faced a higher-ranking official and decided to tell their story with the utmost detail and emotion, leaving no stone unturned.

The more perfect the narrative, the more it felt like a performance.

As if they already knew that their ninth brother was sitting at the table, listening.