Upon hearing the words, Mi Hefeng’s expression darkened abruptly. Glancing around to ensure no one was paying attention to them, he lowered his voice and warned, “Family Head Situ, I hope you’ll be cautious with your words.”

Situ Gaoyang chuckled at this, “Family Head Mi, you’re being too careful. Those things are ancient history now. Who in the cultivation world doesn’t know about them? It won’t hurt to talk.”

Mi Hefeng didn’t even look at Situ Gaoyang, refusing decisively, “If Family Head Situ wants to discuss it, find someone else. There are plenty of people behind you willing to listen.”

With that, Mi Hefeng, supported by his attendants, got onto the Mi family carriage.

Situ Gaoyang wanted to follow, but a Mi family attendant blocked his path, gesturing politely to a nearby carriage, “Family Head Situ, your carriage is over there.”

Situ Gaoyang pursed his lips, glanced at the carriage Mi Hefeng had boarded, and, feeling his mood soured, snorted twice and turned away.

The Situ family attendants stayed close behind him. Once on the carriage with Situ Gaoyang, one attendant quietly inquired, “Family Head, did you mean that the three youths brought by the Wen family today might have some connection to HuLü Wan?”

Situ Gaoyang looked at the attendant in surprise, then laughed, leaning over to pat his shoulder, “Seems like our own people are the sharpest.”

The attendant bowed his head, flattered, “You give me too much credit, Family Head.”

“Take some men and investigate this,” Situ Gaoyang said, slowly sitting up straight, squinting as he stroked his chin. “And while you’re at it, look into what exactly happened between Wenren Zheng and HuLü Wan more than a decade ago. Why did Wenren Zheng never show up again after HuLü Wan’s incident?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, and one more thing,” Situ Gaoyang added, “Also check up on HuLü Yan.”

The attendant looked up, puzzled.

Situ Gaoyang’s expression was unreadable as he asked, “HuLü Xing spread rumors that HuLü Yan is a bastard child he had with another woman, saying that woman was from the demon realm, with a lot of sins on her shoulders, and he sacrificed HuLü Yan on the altar as a form of repayment. Do you believe that?”

The attendant was silent for a moment before shaking his head, “I really don’t know…”

“I actually think that child might be HuLü Wan’s,” Situ Gaoyang said. “Investigate it thoroughly, and it’d be best if we find HuLü Yan before they do.”

“Yes.”

“HuLü Yan, oh, HuLü Yan…” Situ Gaoyang crossed his arms and leaned back in the carriage, his gaze seeming to pierce through to somewhere far away. Muttering to himself, he said, “If you truly are HuLü Wan’s child, it’s no wonder you’ve stirred such a storm in the cultivation world.”

HuLü Wan had been a prodigy renowned throughout the land, adored by all, and the first to create the Seven-Star Kunlun Sword. A child born of such a woman could hardly be ordinary.

The next morning, as the sky was still faintly brightening, Mi Lu woke up from his dreams.

Unexpectedly, Jing Lan and Li Huai had woken up even earlier. By the time he and HuLü Yan had packed up, Jing Lan and Li Huai had already gathered everyone and were waiting outside their tent.

Seeing Mi Lu’s questioning gaze, Jing Lan and Li Huai looked a bit guilty.

“Lord, we thought it over all night and decided to stay here and wait for your return instead,” Jing Lan said cautiously. “We won’t follow you.”

Mi Lu was genuinely surprised by this answer.

He’d thought Jing Lan and Li Huai would leave with him, especially given how clearly they’d expressed their intentions last night.

Though Mi Lu didn’t understand their sudden change of heart, he figured they must have their reasons. Mi Lu had never been one to force others, so after a moment of silence, he asked the people behind Jing Lan and Li Huai, “Have you all made up your minds?”

The others nodded.

“Very well, then stay here,” Mi Lu said, before giving a series of instructions.

On one hand, he and HuLü Yan were venturing out, with no telling when they’d return—it could be five, ten, or even several decades. If those staying behind grew weary of life within the barrier, they could always step outside to see the world.

On the other hand, he and HuLü Yan were no longer as unknown in the cultivation world as they had been four years ago. They could be besieged on all sides at any time, and whether they’d survive to return was uncertain.

In short—

Even if they chose to remain, he would not decide their future here and now.

The choice to stay or go would always rest with each individual, never imposed by anyone else.

Though Mi Lu remained calm, many had reddened eyes by the end of his speech.

Jing Lan was crying with puffy red eyes, tears streaming down her face like a string of pearls. She wiped them away with the back of her hand and, sniffling, said, “Lord, no matter what, I’ll wait for you here. Please, be careful out there, even if not for yourself, at least for us.”

With that, she pulled out a pendant made of a red thread, holding it in both hands.

She wanted to help Mi Lu put it on, but her gaze met HuLü Yan’s cold, unfeeling look from the corner of her eye, and she felt a sudden chill, instinctively pulling her hands back.

Mi Lu, however, reached out to accept the pendant, smiling as he said, “It’s a beautiful pendant.”

“This pendant is the only thing I had left after I lost my memory. I hid it well so the people at the Medical Hall couldn’t take it from me,” Jing Lan said, blinking at Mi Lu. “I hope you’ll think of us whenever you see it on the road.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Mi Lu accepted it openly, “Thank you.”

He then handed the pendant to HuLü Yan by his side. “Could you help me put it on?”

HuLü Yan remained still, saying nothing.

Mi Lu waited a long time, his hand growing sore, but still, HuLü Yan made no move. Just as Mi Lu was about to turn his head to look, HuLü Yan suddenly took the pendant from his hand.

“Alright,” HuLü Yan replied in a flat tone.

Without a second thought, Mi Lu turned his back to him and raised his hair, exposing the nape of his neck.

He could feel HuLü Yan standing just behind him, close enough that even his breath seemed to fall on Mi Lu’s skin.

It tickled a bit, like a feather’s touch.

Mi Lu waited, but still, HuLü Yan didn’t put the pendant around his neck.

After a pause, Mi Lu realized he might have been insensitive—perhaps HuLü Yan didn’t like doing these things for others, so he glanced at Li Huai.

“Li Huai, could you—”

Before he could finish, HuLü Yan stepped forward abruptly, his chest almost pressing against Mi Lu’s back as he deftly helped him put on the pendant.

Since Mi Lu had his back turned, he couldn’t see HuLü Yan’s expression, but Jing Lan, Li Huai, and the others facing HuLü Yan could see everything clearly.

HuLü Yan’s brows were lowered, his mouth drawn in a line, showing no expression. But a palpable wave of tension emanated from him.

It was clear he wasn’t pleased.

Especially when HuLü Yan’s gaze landed on the pendant around Mi Lu’s neck, Jing Lan felt her nerves tighten, her heart almost leaping into her throat.

In that moment, she felt like HuLü Yan was glaring at her with a cold, sharp look.

She was filled with regret, wishing she could turn back time.

How could she have forgotten about HuLü Yan’s feelings toward Mi Lu? What a careless mistake.

But it was too late, and all she could do now was put on a brave face and pretend nothing was amiss.

Finally, when HuLü Yan stepped back, Jing Lan breathed a sigh of relief.

Then, unexpectedly, HuLü Yan said, “It’s a nice pendant.”

Jing Lan: “…”

Unaware of the tension, Mi Lu looked down at the pendant, then up at HuLü Yan with a smile, “It is, isn’t it? I think so too.”

HuLü Yan gave a small smile, “It suits you.”

He glanced at Jing Lan, his smile deepening, but anyone could see it lacked warmth. “You’ve truly given a wonderful gift, Miss Jing Lan.”

Jing Lan’s legs nearly gave way, and she almost stumbled back, saved only by the girl behind her holding her up.

Completely oblivious to this undercurrent, Mi Lu finished giving instructions and, with HuLü Yan, left.

HuLü Yan didn’t know exactly what was calling him; he only sensed a direction—toward the capital city.

The bustling capital city, unlike the vast emptiness of the northwest, would be difficult to traverse without attracting attention. A face-altering artifact might fool one or two people but would struggle with a crowd.

Recalling what Qiu Bei had told him four years ago, Mi Lu decided to stop by Drunken City first.

As for Qiu Bei’s former senior, Zhai Feng, there was no rush to track him down—finding leads in Drunken City would be easier.

However, Drunken City was located within the demon realm, meaning they’d have to cross the boundary between the demon realm and the outside world.

Mi Lu and HuLü Yan continued heading northwest.

After crossing the boundary, the difference was immediately apparent: the spiritual energy in the air thinned significantly, and the sky grew dimmer. Even without clouds, the entire atmosphere was a hazy gray.

The plants and trees thinned out, replaced by large patches of dry, cracked yellow earth.

There wasn’t a soul in sight.

What surprised Mi Lu was that the demon realm’s weather was completely unaffected by the outside world. Outside, winter had already set in, with gusting cold winds and occasional snowfalls. But the demon realm showed no sign of snow, as if still in autumn.

However, autumn here did not signify abundance—it signified dryness and decay, with a faint hint of death in the air.

Not long after entering, they encountered a type of beast neither had seen before.

The beast was jet-black, with blood-red eyes. When it roared, a nauseating stench filled the air.

But before it could finish its roar, HuLü Yan decapitated it in one swift motion.

The blade HuLü Yan used had been taken from Ming De Yi’s secret chamber. Ming De Yi had cherished the weapon, never even using it himself, preferring to keep it polished and admired.

Ming De Yi would never have imagined that his precious blade would one day be wielded by HuLü Yan to casually hack through a beast’s skull.

The creature didn’t even have time to react before the sharp blade split it down the middle.

Blood and innards scattered everywhere.

The smell was overwhelmingly strong, spreading like ink in water, quickly filling the air.

Mi Lu wrinkled his nose, stepping back. Seeing that the creature was well and truly dead, he quickly pulled HuLü Yan away.

The beast’s blood was so much worse than a typical beast’s stench, and even after Mi Lu used multiple cleansing artifacts, the blade remained tinged with the nauseating smell.

He scanned the surroundings with his spiritual sense, finding a nearby water source, and led HuLü Yan there.

Luckily, it wasn’t far.

But by the time they arrived, night had fallen.

The sky in the demon realm was darker than outside, and as soon as the light faded, a thick black fog seemed to descend, drastically reducing visibility.

The night was pitch dark.

No moon, no stars, just a dense, devouring darkness.

Even with his cultivation at the peak of Foundation Establishment, Mi Lu’s night vision was severely impaired. Though HuLü Yan was squatting beside him, he could only make out a faint outline.

Before them was a small pool, its water cool and clear, ideal for cleaning the blade.

With his diminished vision, Mi Lu handed over the task of cleaning the blade to HuLü Yan.

As the splashing of water echoed, Mi Lu took a night-pearl from his storage pouch and held it up next to HuLü Yan.

Its white glow lit up their small area.

At this moment, Mi Lu noticed the wounds on HuLü Yan’s hand.

There were four long, thin claw marks, deep enough to ooze blood, and though they weren’t bleeding anymore, they looked raw and pale.

Clearly, these injuries had been from the beast.

Not only had HuLü Yan gotten hurt, but he’d endured it without making a sound. If Mi Lu hadn’t seen it, he’d never have known!

Feeling both annoyed and worried, Mi Lu quickly put the night-pearl down and grabbed HuLü Yan’s hand, “You’re injured! Why didn’t you say anything?”

HuLü Yan instinctively tried to pull his injured hand back, but Mi Lu held on tightly.

After a brief standoff, HuLü Yan relented, saying dismissively, “It’s just a small wound, it’s not fatal.”

“True, it’s not fatal, but it hurts,” Mi Lu replied, loosening his grip enough to rummage through his storage pouch with one hand.

HuLü Yan lowered his gaze, his long lashes hiding his expression.

Yet his body seemed tense and awkward, his other hand still holding the blade. After a moment, he lowered the blade into the water to clean it.

“Don’t bother with the blade right now,” Mi Lu said, rummaging through the pouch with more urgency, “Put the blade down and face me.”

HuLü Yan hesitated for a long moment but eventually complied.

As Mi Lu continued his search, he stole a glance at HuLü Yan’s impassive expression. Throughout it all, HuLü Yan hadn’t even flinched, as if the injury didn’t concern him.

Mi Lu even wondered if HuLü Yan could feel pain.

Thinking aloud, he asked, “Does it hurt?”

HuLü Yan’s gaze fixed on him, and after a long pause, he finally reacted with a soft, “Huh?”

“I asked if your hand hurts.”

HuLü Yan fell silent again, as if the question was especially challenging.

Though Mi Lu was accustomed to HuLü Yan’s nature, he didn’t want to force him and was about to change the subject when HuLü Yan unexpectedly answered, “It hurts.”

Mi Lu was startled.

HuLü Yan added, “It really hurts.”

Though HuLü Yan’s expression remained blank, his hand trembled slightly, the coolness of his wrist seeping into Mi Lu’s touch.

Realizing this, Mi Lu shifted a bit closer to him.

“If it hurts, just say so next time,” Mi Lu said, looking into HuLü Yan’s eyes, the light from the night-pearl reflecting like stars in his gaze. “If you don’t tell me, I won’t know. But if you do, I’ll understand and help however I can.”

HuLü Yan’s lips parted slightly, and after a long moment, he managed to say, “Okay.”

He thought, perhaps Mi Lu would never know he’d never said the word “hurt” to anyone before.

It had been like a sealed word within him for eighteen years, as solid as stone.

He’d assumed he’d never tell anyone his true feelings, yet saying it to Mi Lu had unexpectedly brought him a profound sense of ease.

Mi Lu was the first.

If it was Mi Lu he was telling, it didn’t seem so hard.

After searching for a long time, Mi Lu finally found a box of Wan Yu Ointment he’d taken from the Medical Hall’s storage room. Letting go of HuLü Yan’s hand, he opened the box.

A refreshing fragrance filled the air.

Mi Lu dabbed some of the ointment onto his finger and held out his hand to HuLü Yan. “Give me your hand.”

Lost in thought, HuLü Yan obediently placed his injured hand in Mi Lu’s.

Carefully, Mi Lu applied the ointment, moving along the edges of each wound with precision and patience.

Limited by the night-pearl’s light, Mi Lu had to lean close to HuLü Yan’s hand, giving his full attention to the task. Meanwhile, HuLü Yan stared at Mi Lu’s face without blinking.

From his angle, he could see Mi Lu’s smooth forehead and straight nose, his long, curled eyelashes fluttering like butterflies when he blinked.

His gaze lingered on those eyelashes before slowly moving down to Mi Lu’s lips.

Mi Lu’s lips were slightly full, with a prominent cupid’s bow. When he pursed them in concentration, their shape became more defined.

Last night, HuLü Yan had sat by Mi Lu’s bed, fixated on his lips.

He thought he had a decent level of self-control. Even if he couldn’t fully suppress those feelings, he wouldn’t lose control in front of Mi Lu.

Yet now, an inexplicable restlessness surged within him.

The sudden, intense urge roared through his body, heating his skin as if a fire had ignited in his chest.

Realizing something was wrong, HuLü Yan frowned and stared at his injured hand, pulling it back slightly.

Mi Lu noticed and quickly grabbed it again, looking up with concern, “What’s wrong?”

Looking down, HuLü Yan saw the wounds healing right before his eyes. Just as Mi Lu spoke, two of the gashes had already disappeared, leaving no trace.

HuLü Yan frowned deeper, his voice rough, “What is this?”

“This is the Wan Yu Ointment I found in the Medical Hall’s storage. It not only stops bleeding and prevents spiritual energy loss, but it can also heal wounds instantly,” Mi Lu explained, holding the ointment up to HuLü Yan. “Ever heard of it? I even had Yan Feng test it to make sure it was safe.”

“Yan Feng…” HuLü Yan repeated the name.

Watching HuLü Yan’s reaction closely, Mi Lu offered, “If you don’t feel safe using this, I can find another ointment.”

“No need.” HuLü Yan interrupted, pushing his hand forward, “This one’s fine.”

Mi Lu cast a curious glance at HuLü Yan.

But HuLü Yan’s lashes veiled his expression, hiding whatever thoughts lay behind his blank face.

After a brief hesitation, Mi Lu continued applying the ointment.

By the time he finished, much time had passed.

Mi Lu stored the ointment in his storage pouch, then noticed something peculiar.

“Your face is so red!”

HuLü Yan quickly stepped back, almost afraid Mi Lu would accidentally touch him, his tone stiff, “It’s nothing.”

“Are you feeling unwell?” Mi Lu reached out, intending to touch HuLü Yan’s hand, but seeing his extreme reaction, he hesitated.

HuLü Yan remained silent for a while before shaking his head.

“Are you sure?” Mi Lu doubted him, murmuring, “Could it be the Wan Yu Ointment…?”

Saying this, he took out the ointment for closer inspection but found no issues.

The Wan Yu Ointment had been kept safely in his storage pouch, its fragrance still as fresh as ever.

Mi Lu wanted to investigate further, but HuLü Yan abruptly stored his blade and stood up to leave.