HuLü Yan couldn’t predict Mi Lu’s reaction—he was gambling, that’s all.

He gambled on whether Mi Lu could withstand the pressure he was putting on him. From the moment he awoke, his mind was made up: he wanted Mi Lu tightly bound to his side, leaving him with no room to escape. Since stepping into the demon realm, he’d been looking for the perfect opportunity.

And later, when Mi Lu handed him that box of ointment, HuLü Yan knew—his chance had finally come.

He didn’t stop Mi Lu from using the ointment, instead subtly encouraged him to keep using it, applying it repeatedly on him—twenty-three times in total. To use it more often, HuLü Yan even went so far as to deliberately injure himself, allowing the sharp horns of a demonic beast to pierce his back, creating a bloody wound.

Each time the ointment was applied, it brought endless torment and burning desire. Yet he couldn’t do anything; he could only endure it, time and again. By the end, the fire engulfed him completely, and he felt as though thousands of ants were gnawing at his heart, every inch of his body besieged by searing pain.

But he had endured countless pain before; this was nothing new to him. He just had to survive each wave of torment, each one inflicted by Mi Lu himself.

It was all because Mi Lu trusted the wrong person.

It was Mi Lu’s misjudgment.

It was Mi Lu’s presumptuous decision.

If Mi Lu hadn’t given him that ointment, he wouldn’t be going through such agony.

Since Mi Lu lit this fire, Mi Lu should be the one to extinguish it. If he refused, HuLü Yan wouldn’t force him. He’d let Mi Lu witness how he endured this torment brought on by using the ointment those twenty-three times. Let Mi Lu watch it with his own eyes. Even if Mi Lu felt just a sliver of guilt, then enduring all these times wouldn’t have been in vain.

HuLü Yan’s mind was flooded with wild thoughts, but he refused to show a hint of it. He held himself back, gently kissing Mi Lu on the lips, then immediately drawing away. His whole body was aflame, willpower wavering, the pain almost numbing him to any sensation. Yet he braced himself, not taking a single step forward.

He stood precisely at the edge, waiting for Mi Lu’s choice.

When he felt Mi Lu’s hand tentatively brush against his cheek, he thought he was imagining things, desperate as he was.

But it wasn’t a hallucination.

The soft, snow-white light of the Night Pearl couldn’t conceal the blush on Mi Lu’s face. His fingers, heated by HuLü Yan’s inner fire, trembled as they slid down. They traced across HuLü Yan’s lips, down to his chin, before gently pinching it.

Cautious, hesitant, Mi Lu leaned forward and, ever so lightly, kissed HuLü Yan on the lips.

HuLü Yan froze in place.

In an instant, the world faded to black and white, leaving only Mi Lu in vivid color, radiating so brightly that HuLü Yan couldn’t help but squint his eyes.

A warm tear trickled from the corner of his eye.

Suddenly, he felt as if he couldn’t breathe.

The next moment, he moved forward and bit down hard on Mi Lu’s lips.

His kiss had no skill whatsoever, driven purely by raw impulse and desire, almost savage. He cupped Mi Lu’s face with his unharmed hand, unrelentingly taking what he wanted. The emotions he’d suppressed for so long erupted, half-crazed and half-restrained, pouring out onto Mi Lu.

Mi Lu’s eyes widened in shock, hands reflexively pressing against HuLü Yan’s chest. Yet he neither rejected nor resisted, perhaps wanting to, but holding back, eventually enduring his assault with difficulty.

HuLü Yan wiped a stray bit of spit from the corner of Mi Lu’s lips with his thumb, panting by Mi Lu’s ear, his heated breath seemingly capable of melting him alive.

He desperately wanted to voice his thoughts, his desires, let Mi Lu know how much he wanted to tie him up with the whip Ming Sui left behind, or lock him inside the Corpse Transformation Pearl that Ming De Yi had once owned, ensuring he could never leave his side again.

But he restrained himself.

If, one day, Mi Lu were to walk away without a moment’s hesitation, maybe he really would do something drastic and irreversible.

But he hoped that day would never come.

•

Mi Lu had never experienced anything like this; he didn’t even have theoretical knowledge. He could only clumsily follow the sparse experiences he had previously relied on to help himself. A fine sheen of sweat formed on his forehead, the droplets gathering and trailing down his cheek.

When they reached his ear, HuLü Yan wiped them away with his thumb.

Sensing this, Mi Lu raised his eyes to see HuLü Yan naturally placing his thumb in his mouth.

Mi Lu choked out, “You…”

HuLü Yan’s dark eyes narrowed, tilting his head as he looked at him. A gleam of moisture appeared in his beautiful eyes, pooling into a tear that spilled from the corner of his eye.

HuLü Yan seemed oblivious, urging him on with a low murmur.

Mi Lu watched, stunned, a chill creeping down his spine, momentarily forgetting even how to breathe.

After a long moment, his throat bobbed up and down, unable to voice any words.

He had wanted to say that thumb had just wiped his saliva… but oh, forget it.

The Night Pearl shone brightly throughout the night until HuLü Yan finally put it away the following morning.

Dressed, HuLü Yan glanced back at the sleeping Mi Lu, his gaze softening involuntarily. He sat beside him, gently touching Mi Lu’s cheek. Mi Lu slept soundly, his long lashes casting small shadows on his skin, and even though he felt the touch, he didn’t wake, only instinctively turning away.

HuLü Yan’s hand missed its mark, but he unhesitatingly placed it back.

At some point, he realized, only when in contact with Mi Lu did the emptiness in his chest feel filled. The moment he left him, the void returned.

HuLü Yan knew he was unwell, but he didn’t want a cure.

He’d rather live like this, as long as he could be with Mi Lu, regardless of how deeply it sank him into illness.

He’d willingly die from it.

HuLü Yan lingered at the bedside for a long time, reluctant to leave, but eventually, he left the room.

He went straight to Yan Wen’s quarters. The surroundings were different from others’; no ponds or corridors, not even decorative flowers or trees, just an assortment of furnaces, large and small. Some were outside, while others were kept inside.

The servants had seemingly been briefed, and upon seeing HuLü Yan’s figure from afar, one quickly set down their broom and approached him.

“Young Master, the Vice Pavilion Master has been waiting for you. This way, please.”

HuLü Yan followed the servant to the second floor, where Yan Wen sat by the largest golden furnace, in the same position as yesterday.

Hearing footsteps, Yan Wen spoke without looking back, “The other half of the White Stone. Can you give it to me now?”

HuLü Yan stepped behind Yan Wen, taking the White Stones from his pouch and placing them into a brocade bag the servant had prepared. The bag went from empty to full in an instant.

The servant eagerly counted them, about fifty or so White Stones, each one round and smooth to the touch, warm beneath the fingertips. They were flawless—something none of them had seen in years!

The servant’s excitement almost reached his ears, and he was about to hand the bag to Yan Wen when HuLü Yan’s hand stopped him cold.

The servant, thinking HuLü Yan had changed his mind, tensed up, but HuLü Yan didn’t even glance at the White Stones. He had no attachment to them; they were mere leftovers gathered from Qi Wantian and the others, meaningless to him.

His only concern was something else.

“Where’s the WuWang Gang?”

The servant blinked, processing his question before finally relaxing, relieved.

“It’s at the end of Three-Way Street, only four blocks from Star-Moon Pavilion. No flying artifacts are allowed in Qi City, so we’ll need to take a carriage there.”

“Take me there.”

“Yes, of course.” The servant nodded eagerly, handing the brocade bag to Yan Wen.

As they were leaving, Yan Wen reminded, “Qi City is a haven for rogues and spies. If you don’t want to alert others, it’s best not to cause too much commotion.”

HuLü Yan paused at the doorway, glancing back. “Why should I fear a few snakes?”

Yan Wen could only shake his head. What was there to worry about? The young man had every reason to be bold.

Though WuWang Gang didn’t rank high within the demon realm, it was well-known in Qi City. Those harboring grudges without wanting to dirty their hands would often pay WuWang Gang to carry out their bidding.

WuWang Gang consisted of about fifty members, most below Nascent Soul level in cultivation, scattered in strength. Task failures were frequent, but the gang leader, Liao Zhiyuan, took it in stride, convinced that losses were simply part of the trade. When tasks failed, they’d just send someone else, knowing they had no shortage of reckless souls willing to risk their lives.

At noon, Liao Zhiyuan, frustrated by the lack of response from the assassin he’d dispatched, paced the hall with his hands behind his back.

“Leader, I fear he may have met his end,” a subordinate said quietly.

“Useless!” Liao Zhiyuan cursed. “With a mid-level Gold Core, all I asked was to handle a mere Foundation Stage Mi Lu, not HuLü Yan, and he still failed!”

“Perhaps someone noticed him,” the subordinate suggested. “Star-Moon Pavilion has many skilled cultivators; once discovered, it’d be tough to prevail against such odds.”

Liao Zhiyuan nodded, grudgingly acknowledging the logic. Yet his scowl remained, “I even gave him a high-grade artifact! A total waste.”

“Have there been any updates from Star-Moon Pavilion?” he asked.

The subordinate shook his head. “Ever since Yan Fu left, Yan Wen’s tightened control. We can only manage limited infiltration.”

“Forget it, then.” Liao Zhiyuan sat down, sipping his tea before issuing his orders, “Pick someone new at the Golden Core stage, skilled in ambush or poison, and as ruthless as possible.”

“Yes.”

“This time, there’s no need to rush. Since they’ll be here for a while, we’ll make sure they can never step out of Qi City alive.”

“Yes.”

The subordinate nodded, turning to leave. But just as he did, a dark shadow came hurtling toward him at lightning speed.

With no time to dodge, the subordinate fell backward, the sickly scent of blood filling his nose. Staring in horror, he realized the source: one of their own—a corpse, to be exact.

Blood-red eyes wide open, clothes slashed and organs spilling out. The subordinate nearly retched.

Behind him, Liao Zhiyuan’s shocked voice rang out, “Who’s there?”

“It’s me.”

A tall figure emerged from the doorway, dressed in black, his face and hands a stark white.

Liao Zhiyuan shot up, eyes riveted on HuLü Yan, trying to gauge his cultivation level.

But he couldn’t sense it.

Could his opponent’s cultivation be higher than his own?

“Who are you? How dare you barge into our WuWang Gang!” he shouted, attempting to hide his unease. “Men! Remove him!”

Yet, silence filled the air; no one answered.

HuLü Yan’s cold eyes met Liao Zhiyuan’s frightened gaze. “Who sent you after Mi Lu?”

Liao Zhiyuan hesitated, his eyes darting nervously, trying to deflect, “Our clients never reveal themselves. You should consider who might have a reason to stop you from reaching Drunken City.”

“Not quite,” HuLü Yan said, seeing through him. “The intention wasn’t to kill us, only to keep us from reaching our destination.”

Seeing his pretense failing, Liao Zhiyuan stammered before shouting, “Get him!”

The subordinate lunged at HuLü Yan with his life-bound weapon, but stopped mid-air, muscles locking. HuLü Yan’s hand was around his neck, slowly siphoning off his spiritual energy.

Horrified, Liao Zhiyuan stumbled back, muttering, “Lin Chong…”

In moments, the subordinate was drained dry, his head lolling as his eyes dimmed lifelessly. HuLü Yan tossed him aside, advancing on Liao Zhiyuan.

“Who sent you after Mi Lu?” HuLü Yan asked coldly.

But Liao Zhiyuan faltered, voice strangled, “I… we don’t know our clients’ identities.”

“Then I’ll count to three. Answer, or die.”

“Three…”

“Wait! I… I’ll tell you who… they…”

His voice suddenly choked off as if seized by an invisible hand.

HuLü Yan frowned, his cold eyes narrowing.

Author’s Note:

When in doubt, use both hands and feet.