Bones clattered as they rolled across the upper layer amidst the cacophony. The sounds of a qin echoed through the Celestial Burial Pit, binding the high-ranking resentful spirits with restrictions. Though they could not see, their ears remained sharp, and driven by the qin’s music, they frenziedly chased after the breath of the living, intent on killing.

The earlier guess had been correct—the qin demon had been deliberately brought to the Celestial Burial Pit to control the spirits and assassinate the leaders of the Six Sects!

Chu Hanjin leaped into the air, his wide white sleeves releasing nine strings of condensed spirit energy. With a gentle flick, he neutralized the qin demon’s sound waves in complete silence, forcing the demon to stagger backward.

Mu Lianchun spat out a mouthful of blood, gasping, “Junior Brother… what kind of spell is this?”

The Six Sects had only known that Chu Hanjin cultivated the Path of Detached Purity, possessing extremely pure spirit energy. They hadn’t realized he could manifest such divine martial prowess through his qi. Now, with widened eyes, they silently praised him.

The resentful spirits were caught in a dilemma, standing frozen in place. On one side, the qin music urged them to continue the slaughter; on the other, Chu Hanjin’s energy soothed them. They twisted back and forth, unable to choose.

Though Chu Hanjin had the ability to calm and control spirits, it was disrespectful to do so. He could only stop them, not engage. After another strike sent the qin demon reeling, Chu Hanjin called out to the Six Sects, “Hurry and leave!”

They needed to exit the Celestial Burial Pit quickly. The qin demon could manipulate the spirits but was bound by talismans to the pit. Once they escaped, they would no longer be under threat.

The Six Sects, hearing his command, flew out of the pit on their swords.

The sheer number of ghosts overwhelmed Chu Hanjin’s ability to soothe them. Suddenly, he felt a surge of spirit energy from behind, warm and steady. Yue Lin had formed a barrier with one hand, protecting Chu Hanjin from the spirits.

Chu Hanjin glanced at him. “You should go too.”

Yue Lin’s gaze was heavy. “If we go, we go together.”

“…”

The sentiment sounded almost romantic, but Chu Hanjin, too weak to argue, turned his sword and set his foot firmly on the muddy valley ground.

The qin demon stood at the bottom of the pit, chin stubbornly lifted as he watched the fleeing crowd. Chu Hanjin felt sweat roll down his forehead. “We’re out.”

The air was much fresher outside the pit. When they descended, it had been early morning. Now, deep night had fallen, and the moonlight, like silver, flowed over the ground.

Chu Hanjin prepared to check the injuries of the Six Sects, but his wrist was suddenly grasped gently. Yue Lin’s long fingers lingered on his wrist as he half-squinted, probing, “Are you feeling uncomfortable?”

“…”

Chu Hanjin blinked, bewildered. “I’m fine.”

Yue Lin’s gaze softened, as if studying someone fragile. “Really fine?”

“Really fine.”

Yue Lin pondered, then said, “Today was too risky. Lord Yue Zhao is refined and precious. It’s better to stay away from all this fighting and killing in the future.”

Though considerate, his words felt overly protective, almost clingy.

Chu Hanjin furrowed his brow slightly, then, remembering something, dismissed him and went to check on the Six Sects.

The aftermath of the battle was tragic. Xing Jiangxin’s four puppets were destroyed, three reduced to pieces. The Lord of the Shadows had lost a wrist, though it was regrowing at an alarming rate. Mu Lianchun had been stabbed in the back by someone from the Knife Sect, his clothes drenched in blood… but fortunately, no one was in danger of losing their life.

Chu Hanjin sheathed his sword. “I’ll take you to the medical hall for treatment.”

The night was cool as they arrived at the medical hall. Chu Hanjin shared his and Yue Lin’s suspicions. “I fear someone used Xue Wuya’s death to lure us here, intending to trap us all.” He didn’t yet mention that one of the culprits was likely among them.

Xing Jiangxin nearly slammed the table in anger, cursing, “It must be the work of the heretics! After the last battle between immortals and demons, both sides have been recuperating, but skirmishes persist. Now, they openly attack. That qin demon defected to the heretics—proof of their involvement.”

The Lord of the Shadows shook his fan with a gloomy expression. “We need to investigate further.” He turned to Chu Hanjin. “Lord Yue Zhao, you mentioned earlier that someone had been accompanying you?”

At the mention of Yue Lin, Chu Hanjin nodded. “Yes.”

“Who is Yue Lin?”

Chu Hanjin hesitated. How to introduce him?

Mu Lianchun sneered, “Just a flirty wastrel,” but catching the deeper meaning, asked, “Did he exhibit any suspicious behavior?”

Chu Hanjin thought for a moment. “Not really… just someone with a connection to me.”

“Be cautious, Junior Brother,” Mu Lianchun warned. Shortly after, several elders from the Far Mountain Sect arrived, sending messages to their respective sects, urging secrecy.

By the time Chu Hanjin finished his tasks, it was nearing the hour of Zi (11 PM – 1 AM). He returned to Yue Zhao Palace, where the moonlight filtered through the Bodhi tree, casting shadows. Beneath the rustling leaves, an argument seemed to be underway.

Chu Tong waved his hands frantically. “I said, no entry!”

Yue Lin crossed his arms. “No entry? Not even for Lord Yue Zhao’s close kin?”

Chu Tong rolled his eyes. “What close kin? Never heard of it. Besides, if you really want to enter, wait for Lord Yue Zhao to return. He’ll decide whether you can come in. Right now, you can’t.”

Yue Lin’s face darkened. “I don’t want to wait by the gate, and I certainly don’t want to force my way in. I’m just chatting. Can’t you show some courtesy?”

“No courtesy here!” Chu Tong huffed.

Just then, Chu Tong’s eyes lit up. “Lord Yue Zhao!”

Yue Lin’s grip on his sword tightened as he turned. Chu Hanjin stood at the gate, his white robes flowing like moonlight. He glanced at Yue Lin but said nothing, pushing open the door.

Yue Lin was about to follow when Chu Tong blocked him. “Who said you could enter?”

Yue Lin hesitated but smiled reluctantly. “They didn’t say I couldn’t.”

The doors were still open.

Chu Tong sighed. “Alright, fine. Come on in.”

Yue Lin stepped into the cool palace, walking a few steps on the bluestone slabs before flicking his sleeve at Chu Tong’s ankle. “Ouch!” Chu Tong yelped, but Yue Lin barely acknowledged him, muttering, “He should call me Lord Yue Zhao’s husband,” as he walked towards the side hall.

When he saw Chu Hanjin inside, calmly removing his armor, his hair falling loosely around his shoulders, Yue Lin’s breath hitched. Even in such a serious moment, Chu Hanjin’s graceful movements were captivating.

“Who’s there?” Chu Hanjin’s voice broke the silence.

“Me.”

Chu Hanjin quickly gathered his clothes and glanced at Yue Lin. His expression was hard to read—perhaps anger or restraint. “I’m changing. Please leave.”

Yue Lin shrugged casually. “Go ahead. I’ve seen you change many times before.”

Just after he finished speaking, Yue Lin caught the long sword Chu Hanjin had angrily thrown at him, holding it in his hand with a half-smile. “Why are you still angry? Alright, I’ll leave.”

He stood outside the door, waiting. Before long, he heard the sound of the door opening. Chu Hanjin had changed into a deep-patterned, embroidered jade-white robe, his black hair cascading down his back, making his eyes appear deeper. His lips were red, his teeth white, but his voice was cold.

“Visiting so late at night—what’s the reason?”

Yue Lin stepped inside without replying immediately, his gaze drifting over the bedroom furnishings. “A qin and a sword, how elegant.”

“……”

Chu Hanjin’s eyes followed him warily.

Yue Lin sat by the table, poured himself a bowl of tea, and drank it with familiarity. “I didn’t come for any particular reason. Just concerned about you. You’ve lost some memories; if there’s anything you want to know, I’m here to help you.”

Chu Hanjin remained guarded, standing for a moment before sitting beside him. He didn’t fully trust Yue Lin yet but had questions to ask. As Yue Lin skillfully filtered the tea twice and poured a cup for him, he offered it. “Here, drink.”

“……”

Chu Hanjin didn’t usually drink the first or second brew of tea—it was rough and scratched the throat.

Yue Lin knew this.

Chu Hanjin accepted the cup, staring silently at the clear yellow liquid.

Yue Lin broke the silence. “Have you had dinner?”

“Not yet,” Chu Hanjin replied.

Yue Lin stood up. “Then I’ll cook for you. We can talk while you eat.” He moved to the kitchen, efficiently preparing a bowl of Yangchun noodles, skillfully handling the vegetables and noodles. When he brought it to the table, he smiled lightly. “Your favorite Yangchun noodles. It’s simple, but it’ll do for tonight.”

This was indeed what Chu Hanjin had eaten since childhood.

Chu Hanjin picked up his chopsticks and noticed there were no green onions.

He didn’t eat spicy or cold foods, and Yue Lin knew that too.

Feeling a strange sense of familiarity, Chu Hanjin paused several times, glancing at Yue Lin, who seemed to read his thoughts. Yue Lin tilted his head and asked, “Would you like some vinegar? Or maybe some steamed buns?”

“……”

Yue Lin knew even his dietary habits.

Chu Hanjin sighed slightly and said, “It’s too late for that. This is fine. No need for more trouble.”

He picked up a bite of noodles with his chopsticks. He liked his noodles soft, soaked thoroughly in the broth, with one or two pieces of green vegetables for a fresh, clean taste. The texture wasn’t too mushy, just perfect to fill the stomach.

As the bowl neared empty, Chu Hanjin lifted it and sipped the last bit of noodle soup.

Yue Lin suddenly spoke up, “Hmm? So, you do drink the soup.”

According to the rules of the Far Mountain Sect, no food should be wasted. From the sect master to the outer disciples, everyone was taught to clean their plates.

Chu Hanjin placed the spoon down, looking up at Yue Lin.

Yue Lin, resting his chin on one hand, played with the lid of the tea pot, lifting and closing it idly. “I remember, when you were with me, you never drank the soup with Yangchun noodles. No matter how much I coaxed you, you refused, saying the broth was too strong, not to your liking. Very delicate. Extremely capricious.”

He raised his gaze lazily. “Didn’t expect you to drink the soup now.”

Chu Hanjin’s fingers tightened around his chopsticks. For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond.

In truth, from childhood, he had never liked drinking the soup with his noodles. When he was younger, his mother indulged him. If he didn’t drink it, she didn’t force him. He would simply put down his chopsticks and leave.

But after his parents passed away, he started adhering to the rules of the Far Mountain Sect. He would finish his soup every time, though inwardly, he still didn’t enjoy it.

Unexpectedly, Yue Lin had known this about him too.

Mini-Theater:

Amnesiac Chu Chu: “Ah.”

Demon Lord Yue: “What’s wrong?”

Amnesiac Chu Chu: “Hungry.”

Demon Lord Yue: “What would you like to eat? Dragon meat, phoenix marrow, bear’s paw, goose liver, Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, the eight great delicacies?”

Amnesiac Chu Chu: “No.”

Demon Lord Yue: “What then?”

Amnesiac Chu Chu (silent for a while): “Yangchun noodles.”

Demon Lord Yue: “It’s ready.”

Amnesiac Chu Chu: “Ah, spit, spit, there are onions! I hate them.”

Demon Lord Yue: “Sorry, I forgot. Won’t add them next time.”

Amnesiac Chu Chu (angry): “Hmph.”

Demon Lord Yue: “Sorry, my love. Dear Buddha, let me kiss your lips.”

Amnesiac Chu Chu (silent): “Mmm… hmph…”

Hahaha, thank you for reading! Wuu, please leave a review. I love reading your comments!