Chu Hanjin rubbed his lips with the back of his hand, his distinguished eyes opening, but before he could speak, Yue Lin stuffed another wild fruit into his mouth.

“Eat, eat, be good—”

His voice trailed off playfully, as if teasing a child.

Chu Hanjin, “…”

Fine then. Chu Hanjin parted his lips to bite into the wild fruit Yue Lin handed him. The skin was thin, the juice thick and sweet, gently tapping it sent a rush of honeyed sweetness sprawling across his teeth and cheeks, the fragrance enveloping him.

With the medicine materials neatly wrapped and oozing a dark brown liquid, Chu Hanjin wasn’t sure if they were still usable at this moment. “I’ll apply the medicine now. Earlier I just cleaned the wound and bandaged it simply to prevent infection. Now, we need to do it properly.”

Chu Hanjin unwrapped the fabric to reapply the medicine and found the blood had soaked through the white silk again, the wound deep and severe.

He frowned tightly.

The cave was very quiet, filled only with the sounds of bandaging.

Yue Lin bit the corner of his garment, the juice from the medicine seeping into the wound. A few beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, his lips pale, his eyes dark, watching Chu Hanjin intently.

“The wound is severe, it won’t heal quickly. I’ll channel spiritual energy to stop the bleeding as much as I can,” Chu Hanjin said decisively, grasping his palm.

Yue Lin’s hands, toughened by martial arts, felt rough against Chu Hanjin’s jade-like fingers.

Chu Hanjin concentrated, his thoughts focused.

However, Yue Lin’s smooth palm and slender fingers distracted him momentarily.

Somewhere along the way, he noticed Chu Hanjin had changed. No longer was he as brilliantly standoffish as before, but more like jade warmed by body heat, comforting and warm to the touch.

It was a subtle feeling.

“All done.”

Chu Hanjin stood up, “I’ll go find something more to eat, you stay here—”

He tried to withdraw his hand, but Yue Lin’s rough fingers clung tightly.

“What’s wrong?”

Chu Hanjin looked at him holding his hand.

“…” Yue Lin hesitated, then spoke through pale lips, “It’s late, don’t go out anymore, I’m not hungry.”

He wiped clean a nearby stone. “It’s cold in the cave, sit with me for a while, rest.”

His voice was gentle yet insistent. Chu Hanjin stoked the fire a bit more before sitting down again.

In that moment, the fatigue of traveling for two days and nights hit him, a wave of inexplicable weariness as if all his strength had been drained.

Yue Lin’s hand reached his ear.

Chu Hanjin did not shy away; long fingers picked a wood splinter from his hair. “You got dirty, something’s in your hair.”

A wood chip, probably brushed up during their travel.

“…”

Chu Hanjin, always meticulous and proper, had not even noticed the debris in his hair amidst his search.

A ripple stirred in Yue Lin’s heart, full of emotion, “You’ve worked hard.”

Chu Hanjin gave him a strange look.

Yue Lin, “What’s wrong?”

Chu Hanjin, “You’re more injured than I am, why are you always concerned about me?”

Yue Lin opened his mouth to speak but hesitated, instead gripping his hand tighter. The pads of his fingers brushed against the smooth, fair bases of Chu Hanjin’s fingers, the warmth rising, the grip tightening until their fingers were interlocked. Chu Hanjin’s fingers trembled slightly, but he did not pull away.

Previously, Chu Hanjin could even be intimate with Yue Lin while fully conscious; now, just holding hands seemed trivial, and he was much more composed than before.

Yue Lin held his hand, a flood of emotions swirling in his mind—“I’ve dragged you into this,” “You shouldn’t have quarreled with the Six Sects for me,” “It pains me to see you suffer”—but after thinking for a long time, he felt these thoughts somewhat hollow against the pressing cold of the mountain night.

Chu Hanjin, unaware of his thoughts, guessed, “Are you cold?”

“Hm?” Yue Lin turned his head.

Chu Hanjin reached for his robe, passing the snow-white outer garment without hesitation, “Put it on.”

“…”

Yue Lin looked at the garment in his hand, then up at Chu Hanjin’s icy, otherworldly face.

“My injuries aren’t so severe,” Yue Lin forced a smile, “treating me this way makes me feel useless, it’s unsettling. Put it on, listen to me, don’t fuss.”

Chu Hanjin paused, finally understanding his point, stepped forward and draped the robe over Yue Lin’s shoulders, “If I tell you to wear it, just wear it.”

His tone was firm, he turned away after handing it over, a gesture that brooked no further argument.

Quite haughty.

He really was being kind to him.

When had it started?

Yue Lin felt as if he were in a dream, his fingertips clenching the fabric, the smooth satin crinkling, the moon-white sleeves piling onto the damp earth, catching a few specks of mud.

His face slightly pale, but his eyes bright, he nodded lightly, “Then I won’t waste your kindness.”

Chu Hanjin stood with his back turned for a while, making sure Yue Lin wouldn’t resist further, before turning back to sit by the fire.

The cave fell quiet again.

Yue Lin half-closed his eyes, his slow, steady breathing indicating he was regulating his energy.

Chu Hanjin, finally having a moment to himself, picked up the little rascal rolling on the stones and checked it over.

Perhaps from the recent rough play, the crack in its shell had widened, revealing half of a pitch-black head that was not exactly eerie but rather… quite adorable.

Not only that, the little white legs lay limply on the stone, its tender fingers clutching a yellow leaf with holes chewed by insects.

From the legs poking out of the shell, it was clear Chu Zhaoyang was not as tiny as a normal newborn; he was about the size of a six-month-old baby but much livelier, capable of running and jumping.

Chu Hanjin plucked the leaf clenched in his palm.

“Ow~” The fruit QQ protested, kicking its legs.

Alright then.

Chu Hanjin smiled but did not touch his little toy again.

The QQ clung tightly to him, like an octopus, needing to be held even in its sleep. Chu Hanjin cradled it in his arms, waking up the next morning with a sore shoulder as if it had been heavily taxed.

Taking care of a child was no easy task.

Morning light touched the edge of the cave, the fire had gone out, leaving a pile of black ashes.

Chu Hanjin prodded the fire, stirring up a few wisps of smoke. Yue Lin, leaning against the stone wall with pale lips, looked up at him.

Chu Hanjin approached, “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Yue Lin used his sword to help himself stand, swaying slightly, “Shall we set out?”

Chu Hanjin thought for a moment, “If you’re nearly recovered, then let’s go.”

He went to pick up Chu Zhaoyang from the stone, but just as he held him, the little QQ jumped from his palm, refusing to be carried.

Chu Hanjin, “What’s wrong?”

Two little white feet poked out from the shell, the hands holding the head running back and forth. Every time Chu Hanjin tried to hold him, he immediately wriggled free and insistently pushed against Chu Hanjin’s legs.

“What does this mean?” Chu Hanjin looked at Yue Lin.

Yue Lin shook his head, also clueless.

The QQ bumped more fiercely, fumbling over Chu Hanjin’s body for a while before grabbing his belt, then bit into the crack of its shell.

Chu “……”

As Chu Hanjin moved forward, the QQ retreated; when Chu Hanjin stepped back, the QQ moved forward.

Chu Hanjin understood, walking back and forth inside the cave a few times, the QQ being tugged by the now slack, now tight belt, bumping along behind Chu Hanjin, occasionally crashing into his legs if it couldn’t turn in time.

Chu Hanjin asked, “Don’t want father to hold you?”

The little fruit QQ shook, as if nodding.

Chu Hanjin pointed at him, then at himself, “Want to follow me?”

The little QQ shook again, still nodding.

Yue Lin’s deep eyes lifted, “Maybe he knows he’s heavy and doesn’t want to trouble you.”

Chu Hanjin, “……”

After speaking, the QQ ran up to Yue Lin’s legs and bumped into him hard!

Yue Lin was weak, staggered back a step by the impact, and smiled palely, “A father’s kindness and a son’s filial piety.”

Chu Hanjin, “……”

These two…

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say, standing there in a daze, before finally realizing he should intervene to stop the conflict, sighing, “Let’s go.”

The QQ tugged at his robe, trotting behind him all the way.

Chu Hanjin was initially worried about letting the QQ touch the ground.

First, because its skin was tender and could be hurt by the grass and stones.

Second, because the QQ was small and slow, unable to keep up with an adult’s pace.

But to Chu Hanjin’s surprise, the child’s legs were quite capable of running, the pale white soles touching the ground momentarily before lifting off, “tap tap tap” running fast forward, nearly keeping pace with Chu Hanjin.

Sometimes, it ran too fast and couldn’t stop, crashing into the bushes, coming out with its head full of leaves and flower debris, frantically climbing up to Chu Hanjin’s legs, demanding comfort and cuddles.

All in all, Chu Hanjin and Yue Lin were spared much effort.

“Which way should we go?”

Chu Hanjin, supporting Yue Lin, looked back at the vast, dense mountain ranges, “We need to leave Fog Ridge quickly.”

Yue Lin, leaning on his sword, didn’t hesitate, “Back to the Demon Realm.”

He paused, then added, “I know how to restore your memory now.”

“How so?” Chu Hanjin was surprised.

Yue Lin recounted his fight with Song Shu two days ago, and how he had tricked him into revealing the workings of his curse.

“I see. When I was flipping through the books at the bookstore, I had a feeling, but listening to you now, I’m sure,” Chu Hanjin said, “Those books aren’t fiction; they actually contain memories. If we can find the original books and read them, the memories should come back.”

Yue Lin nodded in agreement, “Not sure about the specifics of the spellcasting, but that seems to be the way to break it.”

After speaking, he coughed, apparently aggravating the crack in his chest, his eyebrows furrowing tightly.

Once the pain subsided, a thin layer of cold sweat emerged on his skin, the sunlight revealing a ghostly pallor.

“Does it hurt again?”

“It’s nothing.”

Chu Hanjin looked around.

Their journey had been fortunately free of too many pursuers. Occasionally, they heard movements and hid in dense vegetation, waiting for people to pass before continuing safely.

They were now walking on a smooth, flat meadow, the deep green grass swaying in the wind.

The QQ was a good little ball, fond of green; it let go of the robe and curled its hands and feet back into its battered shell, rolling from one end of the meadow to the other.

Chu Hanjin called out to it, “QQ—”

The QQ quickly rolled back to him.

“QQ—”

The QQ was so happy its entire shell trembled.

“…………”

Chu Hanjin changed the subject, “Let’s rest here a bit. Check if the wound has opened up, and see if it’s convenient to treat.”

Yue Lin nodded, “I’ll go get some water to drink.”

The stream was on the way they came. Chu Hanjin sat waiting for his return. The breeze blew his eyelids shut, his vision still filled with green. In the warmth, something gently touched his hand.

Chu Hanjin opened his eyes to see the QQ grasping a small stone, pulling at his hand.

“What’s wrong?” Chu Hanjin asked.

The QQ threw the stone a few yards away, trundled after it to pick it up, returned to the spot, and threw it again.

Pick up.

Throw.

Pick up.

…

After demonstrating a few times, it ran up to Chu Hanjin with the stone, stuffing it into his palm, its little white feet eagerly pacing back and forth.

Excited!

Happy!

Thrilled!

Wanting father to throw! Wanting father to throw!

Understanding, Chu Hanjin tossed the black stone out, the QQ immediately following it, happily retrieving it, and then sticking its head into Chu Hanjin’s palm for a touch.

Chu Hanjin patted its shell, then threw the stone again.

After playing for a while, it felt very much like teasing a puppy.

“……”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Tired from running back and forth, the QQ clambered onto him, sprawling out and panting heavily.

A warm breeze blew.

Chu Hanjin plucked a flower, its buds adorned with small purple-red blossoms, and handed it to the QQ. However, when it touched the beautiful flower, it seemed genuinely saddened by the plucking, wilting into a ball, its head resting on Chu Hanjin’s shoulder.

“……”

Chu Hanjin realized inwardly.

He had unwittingly distressed a little fruit QQ over a flower.

It must have been a flower the QQ liked very much.

Otherwise, why be so sad?

Chu Hanjin could only comfort it.

After playing with the QQ for a while, Yue Lin hadn’t returned.

Chu Hanjin left the meadow and walked down to the stream. The stream was flanked by bamboo groves, separated from the meadow by a few acres of fallow land. Wild rabbits and squirrels occasionally peeked out, jumping in the low grass and curiously gathering around a certain spot.

Chu Hanjin approached.

It was a fresh pool of blood, with animal fur mixed in.

Why was there blood?

The green crowns of the bamboo rustled in the wind, and a tall figure behind the bamboo, silhouette dark, head bowed, was picking up bamboo leaves to wipe away the larger blood stains.

Chu Hanjin’s expression froze.

Yue Lin wiped away the blood, walked to the stream, scooped up water to slowly wash it clean, the nearby water tinted red.

And behind the bamboo, lay a leopard corpse, its flesh stripped away.

“……”

Chu Hanjin watched for a while, then turned back to the meadow.

The QQ rolled in the grass, surrounded by butterflies fluttering about, still clutching the wildflower, seemingly still not cheered up.

Chu Hanjin sat down, thinking about the scene he had just witnessed.

Previously, Yue Lin had been grotesquely mutilated, flayed and deboned by someone. Gradually, he had recovered his skeletal structure, but his skin and flesh remained tattered and couldn’t regenerate, so he used the flesh of wild animals to fill the gaps, gradually integrating it with his body’s meridians.

If Chu Hanjin guessed right, Yue Lin must have gone hunting to replenish the damaged parts of his body.

Chu Hanjin waited for his return.

It wasn’t long before Yue Lin emerged from behind the hillside under a peach tree, his steps more stable than before, his complexion no longer pale, his eyes bright, his spirit evidently better.

Chu Hanjin’s gaze was meaningful, Yue Lin, realizing what he saw, asked, “Did you see?”

“I did.”

Yue Lin smiled, his voice dropping.

“Afraid?”

The world has its energies, cycling continuously between growth and decline, yet the total amount of spiritual energy between heaven and earth remains constant. Cultivation is based on the principle of “gathering spirit to supplement spirit, gathering essence to supplement essence, gathering form to supplement form.” To imbue a sword with spiritual energy, something must be sacrificed; to make a vessel filled with energy, something must fill it.

And Yue Lin, having been flayed and deboned, needed similar things to regenerate his flesh and bones. Nothing comes from nothing. That’s an iron law.

“Not afraid.”

Chu Hanjin seemed to think of something, “Among your options for substitution, is there cannibalism?”

Yue Lin, “Yes. I could, but I don’t want to.”

Chu Hanjin nodded, “That’s good.”

A thought between god and demon lies here.

As long as Yue Lin does not kill or harm others for personal gain, he does not violate Chu Hanjin’s principles.

They walked down the mountain, and Chu Hanjin began to tell the QQ a story.

“In the beginning, there were few cultivators, and the spiritual energy between heaven and earth was abundant. Spiritual stones, spiritual herbs, and spiritual beasts were everywhere, and it was easiest then to achieve great success in cultivation.”

The QQ tugged at his robe, tilting its head.

It could understand some of what Yue Lin and Chu Hanjin said, but some things were still foreign.

Chu Hanjin touched its shell, “Do you know what cultivation is?”

The QQ tilted its head, not understanding, its skin beginning to wrinkle.

Yue Lin and Chu Hanjin met each other’s gaze.

Both had thought about it; clearly, the QQ’s constitution was different from ordinary humans. A newborn with an extraordinary physique, able to understand their conversations, even expressing emotions, but unable to speak.

“Perhaps because plants don’t have vocal organs.” Chu Hanjin had said at the time, “The QQ retains some plant attributes, which might make this difficult for it to overcome.”

But fortunately, Chu Hanjin could now discern from changes in the QQ’s shell its happiness, anger, sadness, confusion, and even its likes.

Chu Hanjin continued, “Humans are also part of nature. Some people are born carrying more spiritual energy, known as spiritual roots; others are born with less. There’s no difference in quality, just that it makes a difference in cultivation. Those with good spiritual roots find it easier to cultivate than ordinary people, while those with poorer roots must work harder and need more spiritual energy.

“Cultivation involves gestures and incantations that can command the winds and control the forces of the universe. Sorcery is a technique and law of the heavens, executed through human hands, requiring the human body as a medium for spiritual energy.

“If the body’s stored energy is limited, it cannot sustain the sorcery; if the body’s capacity is limited and it suddenly absorbs too much energy, it cannot withstand it and will explode and die. Most people’s cultivation process—foundation building, enlightenment, merging, tranquil spirit, golden core, nascent soul, and so forth—revolves around one fundamental thing—”

Here, Chu Hanjin paused.

Yue Lin, holding his sword, nodded.

The QQ scratched its shell, the tiny nails making a soft sound, its skin wrinkling in confusion.

What is it, what is it?

“That is to enhance the body’s ability to nurture spiritual energy.”

Chu Hanjin added, “This is the essence of cultivation. As for sorcery, it’s just an accessory; without sufficient spiritual energy, even if you master a thousand secret texts, it’s like a blind man lighting a lamp, unable to find the way.”

The QQ’s skin smoothed out, as if it understood.

Chu Hanjin scratched its shell:

“Because the total amount of spiritual energy is limited, yet indispensable for cultivators, the more cultivators there are, the fiercer the competition for spiritual energy becomes, eventually leading to the opposition between the righteous and demonic paths.”

The QQ’s skin wrinkled again.

Don’t understand, don’t understand.

What does this have to do with the righteous and demonic paths?

Yue Lin said, “It’s simple. Suppose an ordinary person has a stone rich in spiritual energy, and a deeply practiced cultivator wants this stone, but the person doesn’t want to give it up. What should be done?”

The QQ tilted its head.

Yue Lin, “Option one, kill the ordinary person and take the spiritual stone.”

Chu Hanjin nodded, adding, “This is defined as the demonic path.”

After a pause.

Yue Lin gave him a look, half-smiling, “Option two, frame the owner of the spiritual stone as a heinous villain, secretly hoarding spiritual stones for evil cultivation, endangering many lives. Meanwhile, the cultivator is revered as a reincarnated deity, executing heavenly justice by killing him and taking his stone, also earning the reputation of a benevolent savior.”

“…………”

Chu Hanjin and he exchanged glances.

Yue Lin’s implication was all too clear.

“This is the righteous path.

The demonic path consumes people and spits out bones, the righteous path consumes people without spitting out bones.”

Chu Hanjin shook his head wanting to say something, but his lips pressed tightly together.

Yue Lin extended his slender finger, tapping the QQ’s head, saying, “There’s actually a third option.”

The QQ looked up, its small white feet on the grass, hands on its hips, blankly watching its two fathers.

Its black hair peeked out in a few strands, blowing about in the wind.

“That is, not to want it.”

Yue Lin looked towards the distant green hills, his voice dropping, “If they don’t give it, then don’t take it. But in this world, only a very few people have the power to decide life and death, yet choose not to take anything from others.”

Hearing this, Chu Hanjin nodded, “The original righteous path was about choosing not to want.”

But later, everything was wanted, just more discreetly.

The QQ still tilted its shell-covered face upward, its expression unseen, only a yellow-green shell visible, cracking further, seemingly about to reveal its face.

It’s unclear if it understood.

Chu Hanjin gently held its tiny hand, “The opposition between righteousness and evil has never been about sects.”

“It’s about the human heart.”