Chapter 10: Temptation

◎ Why make a fuss? Just work hard—give it a few years, and it’ll be yours. ◎

When Feng Yao left, Yu Xiaowu was still a little dazed.

…That’s it?

He lifted his gaze toward his senior sister. Her face was expressionless, but the slight downturn of her lips showed her displeasure.

Bracing himself, Yu Xiaowu stepped forward, tugged at her sleeve, and called out softly, “Senior Sister.”

He Guang didn’t move her body—only her neck and head turned stiffly toward him, like a puppet with jammed joints.

She opened her mouth and asked, “What kind of person do you think Feng Yao is?”

Yu Xiaowu thought about the little notebook in his heart and replied dryly, “A gentleman of virtue, a cultivation genius.”

After a brief pause, he added, “A second-generation cultivator.”

He Guang’s brows furrowed slightly as she gave him a glance filled with mild disdain. “Aren’t you supposed to be a walking encyclopedia?”

Seeing that his senior sister’s expression had come alive, Yu Xiaowu relaxed. He tugged at her sleeve and whined playfully, “That’s what the rumors say.”

He Guang withdrew her gaze and took the lead, walking ahead.

Yu Xiaowu was baffled. Senior Sister is mad again? Why did she stop talking halfway?

The moment they stepped out of the Dayan Sect’s mountain gate, He Guang suddenly spoke. “Feng Yao—if you’re not on the same side as him, don’t believe a single word that comes out of his mouth.”

She turned and looked toward the highest peak of the Law Enforcement Hall. Through the white jade wall of the Eight-Curve Chalice Pavilion, his figure was nowhere to be seen—hidden as if shrouded within an icy mountain.

On the other side, after comforting Yuan Ji, Feng Yao flew toward the Law Enforcement Peak.

The Law Enforcement Peak, situated at the central teleportation array, was the highest peak.

As Feng Yao passed by the disciples, he patiently nodded to each one in greeting, without slowing his pace as he flew toward the peak’s summit. That was where the Tilting Heaven Hall stood—the residence of the Hall Master of the Law Enforcement Hall and the power center beneath the sect leader.

The hall doors were tightly shut.

Feng Yao greeted the stationed cultivators and learned that the Hall Master was meeting with an elder of the Fox Clan, with representatives from the Sparrow and Rabbit Clans waiting in line. It seemed the meeting wouldn’t be over anytime soon.

So, Feng Yao took out some case files and began reviewing them right outside the door.

The nearby guards stole several glances at him, unable to hold back their admiration—Wasn’t this a bit too diligent?

After processing five case files, the hall doors finally opened.

The elder of the Rabbit Clan walked out, holding a cultivator’s hand. His face was filled with gratitude, and even his rabbit ears trembled slightly. “Xiao Mu, they say it’s easy to add flowers to brocade but hard to send charcoal in the snow. Such great kindness is impossible to repay.”

Feng Yao, standing discreetly by the corner of the door, flinched at the name “Xiao Mu” and instinctively lowered his head, staring at his toes in silence.

Then, he heard “Xiao Mu” respond in a righteous tone, “This is nothing. For the well-being of the demon clans, for the future of the Kunyu Realm, and for all living beings under heaven—this is my duty.”

The Rabbit Clan elder was moved to tears. As he left, he kept turning back every few steps, waving repeatedly at the young cultivator.

The moment the elder disappeared into the horizon, the young cultivator’s demeanor shifted entirely. His righteous air vanished as he cast a cool glance at Feng Yao and ordered, “Come in.” Then, without another word, he stepped into the great hall.

The stationed guards let out a long, knowing sigh and discreetly held up three fingers toward Feng Yao.

Three. He had just swindled three demon clans.

Feng Yao chuckled helplessly and walked into the hall.

Tilting Heaven Hall—its outer hall and inner hall were two entirely different worlds.

The outer hall was a towering palace, grand and opulent, with jade-carved balustrades, gilded eaves, and flying arches painted in rich crimson. It was designed solely to receive guests, showcasing the immense wealth and power of the Dayan Sect.

The inner hall, however, was the Hall Master’s office and meeting chamber. Four massive red-lacquered pillars rose from the ground, positioned at the eight cardinal points of the divination trigram, supporting the entire hall. Each pillar was densely inscribed with intricate formations, interwoven in a complex array, with finely carved beams and ornate rafters.

Standing at the threshold between the inner and outer halls, Feng Yao took a deep breath before cautiously stepping forward.

The moment he crossed the boundary, light cascaded down, and his vision abruptly expanded.

Above him, the vast sky stretched endlessly, with a sea of clouds obscuring the sun. Below, mountain ranges meandered like waves, encircling the hall like stars worshipping the sun.

The six walls of Tilting Heaven Hall were made of a special material—invisible from the outside, yet allowing those within to see everything beyond.

Feng Yao marveled inwardly. The name “Tilting Heaven Hall” was well deserved. No matter how many times he came, its grandeur never failed to astonish him.

Just as he was caught in the moment, a voice—tinged with laughter—drifted into his ears.

“What’s with the fuss? Show some ambition. In a few years, this will be yours anyway.”

Feng Yao looked up. A man stood by the wall, gazing at the scenery beyond.

Lai Muchen, the Hall Master of the Law Enforcement Hall.

He wore the hall’s signature white robes, which clung to his slender, almost frail frame. Over them, he draped a thick black fox-fur cloak. Though the air was not cold, he still pulled it tighter around himself, as if weighed down by its heaviness.

Lai Muchen turned around unhurriedly, cradling a warm jade excavated from the Ten Thousand Mountains. Against his cool, pale skin, his Adam’s apple shifted slightly. His lips carried a faint upward curve, like willow branches swaying in the spring breeze.

His brows stood tall like distant mountains, his temples as if sculpted by the spring wind.

Rocks stacked like jade, pines arranged like emeralds.

Setting the warm jade onto the table, Lai Muchen finally spoke. “How did it go?”

Feng Yao’s expression turned serious as he recounted everything about the Task Hall from start to finish.

“What about Yuan Ji?”

“He went back to his own peak.”

“Did he go looking for his disciple?”

Feng Yao shook his head.

Lai Muchen tapped his fingers on the table, his movements slow and deliberate. “Then he probably doesn’t suspect anything. The spies sent to the Liu family have returned—you go handle the follow-up. This matter is yours now. Yuan Ji will handle things by the book; if it can be kept, let it be kept. If it needs to be dealt with, don’t be soft-hearted.”

“As for Ji Chanzi, leave him to that one from the Wanfo Sect. See what methods she has and whether she can protect him.”

Feng Yao lowered his gaze, listening intently—almost as if he was about to pull out a notebook to take notes.

Seeing this, Lai Muchen suddenly chuckled. “Cases of souls crossing from other worlds are worth a lot of merit points. That woman from the Wanfo Sect came in aggressively, claiming she’s here for Ji Chanzi, but I suspect she’s also got her eyes on Liu Youyou. Don’t concern yourself with sect ties—just do what you need to do.”

Feng Yao acknowledged the order and was about to leave when Lai Muchen added, “The Liu family may be a small clan, but they’ve been affiliated with Dayan Sect for many years. Don’t make them lose faith in us.”

The unspoken message was clear: spare the Liu family—don’t drag the innocent into this.

Feng Yao hesitated for a moment before nodding.

Every time they dealt with souls from another world, it was always a bloody storm.

Though they were called “souls from another world,” many of them had lived in Kunyu Realm for years, forming bonds—family, friends, lovers, and enemies. And these people held an unusual obsession with them.

Handling the aftermath properly was always a troublesome matter.

—

The sun sank behind the western mountains, dusk settling into the horizon.

Yu Xiaowu stared at the flower wine in his hand, sighing endlessly.

Two days in Dayan Sect, and not a single bit of progress.

Yesterday, he was tripped up by that lunatic Xie Xuan. Today, he got tangled up with some old man from who-knows-where. And now—he still had no idea where Liu Youyou was.

He downed the pear blossom wine in one gulp, guilt slowly creeping up his chest.

Two days out of the sect, and he’d already drunk wine and visited a brothel.

He had really let his master down.

Yu Xiaowu took another sip of wine and let out a long, drawn-out sigh—only to have it cut short by a wine cup hitting his forehead.

He rubbed the red mark left on his skin, pouting slightly. It didn’t hurt, but he still felt wronged.

Just as he was about to complain, he heard his senior sister speak.

“So noisy. If you want to exhale, do it toward the lady in the floral dress—don’t bother me.”

—

An hour ago, He Guang received a highly classified, top-priority case file from the Wanfo Sect’s Law Enforcement Hall.

There were only three people in the Law Enforcement Hall qualified to handle high-secrecy cases: the Hall Master, Xigua; the Vice Hall Master, Ming Fei; and the Third Seat, He Guang.

Her senior brother would have been qualified too—but he had run away from home.

Right now, Xigua was deep in the Ten Thousand Mountains, mediating a conflict between the Leopard Clan and the Flood Dragon Clan, completely unavailable.

Ming Fei, a disciple of the Joyful Zen Sect, was currently in the capital, handling the sect’s recruitment affairs—so busy that he barely had time to breathe, let alone flirt and indulge like usual.

The only one who could be considered free was He Guang, who was away on a business trip.

He Guang skimmed through the text at lightning speed, holding three brushes between the fingers of her left hand while swiftly writing with one in her right. The sounds of silk-stringed instruments and lively chatter outside did nothing to distract her.

Yu Xiaowu got up and temporarily took on the role of a little bookboy, helping her grind the ink.

Halfway through, he suddenly paused, grinned, and couldn’t hide the excitement in his voice. “Senior Sister, do you know what else a bookboy used to do besides reading with the young master and grinding ink?”

He Guang stared at Yu Xiaowu expressionlessly, her gaze cold as ice. He swallowed the rest of his words and dejectedly went back to grinding the ink.

Fifteen minutes later, Yu Xiaowu couldn’t help but yawn.

A series of rapid knocks suddenly sounded at the door. Before he could respond, the door was kicked open.

Mo Changge carried a bottle of wine, his eyelids half-drooping, already halfway drunk. He slurred, “The rooms are full. Mind sharing one?”

No matter which city it was in, Red Sleeve Pavilion was always the most popular brothel, and fully booked rooms were a common occurrence.

When there were no rooms available, the only option was to sit in the main hall. But getting drunk and making a scene in public was, after all, unsightly.

He Guang lifted her gaze from the dossier and glanced Mo Changge up and down. His robes were stained with wine at the hem, his hair was loose, and the cloth strips keeping it together were barely hanging on. For someone hailed as the greatest below the Mahāyāna stage, he was truly a sight to behold.

Dressed like this, he could easily pass for a beggar.

Paired with those sharp, hawk-like eyes, he could very well make a name for himself as the leader of the Beggar Sect.

As she observed Mo Changge, he was also studying her.

She had changed into a white, narrow-sleeved monk’s robe to avoid getting ink stains on her clothes. The robe fit snugly, stripping away the usual solemnity of monk’s attire, making it resemble a simple, close-fitting undergarment—carrying an unexpectedly delicate charm.

In the midst of Red Sleeve Pavilion’s intoxicating lights and indulgent pleasures, she alone remained immersed in her official duties, shutting out the world outside.

Her brows furrowed slightly. Though she deliberately tried to mask it, a hint of surprise still seeped through. Her lips pressed together—not in joy, nor in displeasure, but in pure, unfiltered confusion.

This conclusion made Mo Changge feel a bit smug. She doesn’t know what I’m up to.

Truth be told, Mo Changge himself didn’t know either.

At first, he had simply intended to say hello. After all, they had shared a drink before, so there was at least that much camaraderie. He had planned to follow his whims—come and go as he pleased.

But upon seeing her, the impulse to leave suddenly vanished. What should have been a casual greeting turned into “Mind sharing a room?”

Mo Changge’s smile faded, and his grip on the wine jug tightened slightly. Her confusion, rather than amusing him, left him feeling a little uneasy. He didn’t know how to respond and instinctively averted his gaze.

Unfortunately, in doing so, his eyes landed on her waist.

A monk’s waist always carried a certain forbidden allure.

Mo Changge suddenly felt like tonight’s wine was hitting a little too hard. Realizing this, he smoothly shifted his gaze away without betraying a trace of his thoughts.

“Sharing a room is fine too.”

Her eyes fell on his wine jug, and she let out a soft chuckle. “Just don’t get drunk and cause trouble. It wouldn’t do if you ended up leading my junior brother astray.”