Nighttime wasn’t exactly safe, so Mi Lu suggested they take turns keeping watch—he’d take the first half of the night, and HuLü Yan could take the second. Of course, if HuLü Yan wanted the first watch, that was fine, too.

When Mi Lu spoke, HuLü Yan sat across from him, seemingly lost in thought. The night was thick and dark; Mi Lu couldn’t make out HuLü Yan’s face or expression and could only vaguely feel his gaze shifting back and forth between his face and body.

After a moment of silence, Mi Lu asked, “Do you want the first half or the second half of the night?”

Hearing the question, HuLü Yan’s unabashed gaze finally toned down. He shifted uncomfortably and, after a quiet pause, said in a very low voice, “You rest first.”

Mi Lu sensed something unusual in HuLü Yan’s voice, but since HuLü Yan didn’t say anything further, he didn’t press him. After a brief internal struggle, he simply agreed.

They’d been on the run all day, and Mi Lu was genuinely exhausted. Even in the treacherous Demon Realm, he fell into a deep sleep not long after closing his eyes.

If Mi Lu had opened his eyes at that moment, he’d have seen HuLü Yan, who had initially kept a respectable distance, silently rise to his feet. Moving with near-soundless steps, HuLü Yan finally stopped right beside him.

Lowering his gaze, HuLü Yan stared at Mi Lu’s sleeping face for a long time before he slowly crouched down. Although he couldn’t see his current expression, he could imagine how red his skin must be. The fiery sensation that had been rampaging within him earlier hadn’t subsided; it had only intensified with time, nearly igniting him from within.

The silence was thick, with not even a hint of insect sounds. Yet HuLü Yan could clearly hear the sound of his own blood boiling through his veins. His whole body was feverish, trapped in an unbearable state that left him on the edge of his sanity. What unnerved him was his utter inability to control the fire within him.

As he sensed this fire surging toward a particular direction, his body tensed to the extreme. He fought to keep his hand from reaching toward Mi Lu. But even just staring at Mi Lu’s face was testing the limits of his self-control, like fire and water clashing, with countless murmurs whispering in his ear.

“It’s just a touch….”

“Don’t hold yourself back….”

“He’s not going anywhere….”

“Even if he could, would you let him go?”

No, he wouldn’t.

HuLü Yan answered the question in his heart. Whether Mi Lu was willing or not, and no matter what the cost, he would never let Mi Lu leave his side. He had once given Mi Lu the chance, and it was Mi Lu himself who chose to stay. From now on, even if he had to break Mi Lu’s legs, lock him away, or bind him with rope for life… he would never let him go.

HuLü Yan’s eyes were dark and unrestrained, his possessiveness growing. His gaze lingered on Mi Lu’s unaware form, slowly tracing down from his neck, locking him in an invisible shackle. He knew this shackle bound them both, just as firmly binding him to Mi Lu.

Even the mere thought of Mi Lu leaving tightened his throat, his suppressed emotions causing his breath to tremble. He dared not take any risks.

At the moment he stood up, the voices enticing him faded completely. HuLü Yan turned and left hurriedly, as though fleeing.

–

Mi Lu had no idea about HuLü Yan’s struggles that night; he slept straight through till morning. By the time he opened his eyes, HuLü Yan had already returned from a round of patrol. After keeping watch all night, the ointment’s effects had faded from HuLü Yan’s body. Yet, his condition looked grim; his eyes were red-rimmed, his face pale, and his whole demeanor radiated a faint, unshakable hostility.

Startled by HuLü Yan’s appearance, Mi Lu immediately thought HuLü Yan was upset with him for failing to wake up for his watch and hurriedly apologized. “Sorry, I don’t know what happened last night; I fell asleep right away…”

His voice trailed off. He’d intended to ask why HuLü Yan didn’t wake him, but realizing it might sound like he was shifting blame, he swallowed the question.

Unbothered, HuLü Yan replied coldly, “Did you rest well?”

“Huh?” Mi Lu blinked, then nodded, “Yes, I’m well-rested.”

“Let’s go.” HuLü Yan turned and began walking.

Sensing HuLü Yan’s consistently dour mood, Mi Lu refrained from chatting along the way. They were headed to Drunken City, a journey that would take three days and nights, and would require passing through several towns. Near these towns, they’d likely encounter residents of the Demon Realm. To avoid attention, Mi Lu decided against flying artifacts or taking a carriage, opting to walk with HuLü Yan.

After all, they’d already waited four years; a bit more waiting wouldn’t hurt. However, walking brought a downside—they were more likely to run into demonic beasts. Unlike those in the outside world, the Demon Realm’s beasts were stronger and had blood laced with poison; a single touch could tear flesh apart.

HuLü Yan fought off these beasts efficiently, though his lack of experience left him exposed; he knew only to attack, never evade. When the beast’s poisonous blood seeped through his clothing, scorching his right forearm, he was slow to react.

After the battle, Mi Lu pulled HuLü Yan aside, using his spiritual energy to tear open HuLü Yan’s right sleeve to reveal the blood-streaked wound. This time, the injury was worse than the last, with blood pouring from the wound and pooling on the dry earth below, staining the ground a deep red.

The sight of it made Mi Lu’s heart ache. He took out a handkerchief to carefully clean the wound. When it came time for ointment, he deliberately avoided the items he’d looted from the Medical Hall’s storage, choosing instead a higher-grade ointment he’d stocked at the Mi family estate. It was inferior to the Wan Yu Ointment, unable to prevent spiritual energy loss or heal wounds quickly. But he felt more assured using it.

Mi Lu opened the box, took some ointment on his fingertip, and reached for HuLü Yan’s arm to apply it. To his surprise, HuLü Yan suddenly pulled his arm away.

“No,” HuLü Yan said firmly before Mi Lu could respond. “Not that one.”

Mi Lu paused, looking up in confusion. HuLü Yan’s usual blank expression was replaced by a deep frown and obvious reluctance. Meeting Mi Lu’s gaze, he shook his head. “The last one wasn’t like that.”

“Oh—” Mi Lu understood, then reassured him with a gentle smile. “I had a strange feeling about that other ointment, and since it came from the Medical Hall, I thought it best not to use it. This ointment is something I’ve trusted for years. It’s not as fast-acting, but it’s safer.”

In response, HuLü Yan withdrew his hand.

Left holding nothing, Mi Lu grew even more confused, staring at him helplessly. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want this one.” HuLü Yan was curt. “I want the other one.”

“But that one might have side effects; I’ve noticed you haven’t been looking well.”

“The other one is better,” HuLü Yan said bluntly.

Mi Lu was speechless. He couldn’t argue since both he and HuLü Yan had witnessed the Wan Yu Ointment’s efficacy firsthand. After a moment’s standoff, Mi Lu finally gave in, putting the ordinary ointment away and retrieving the Wan Yu Ointment. As he opened the container, the fragrance quickly filled the air.

Without another thought, he used the ointment to heal HuLü Yan’s wound. That night, when Mi Lu was supposed to keep watch, he once again slept till dawn, and HuLü Yan looked even worse than before.

Although HuLü Yan didn’t say anything, Mi Lu sensed something off. From then on, he insisted on using regular ointment for HuLü Yan’s injuries. But as a result, HuLü Yan’s wounds continued to pile up, his right arm covered in scars, with claw marks across his back.

Ten days later, his injuries were still unhealed. Helpless, Mi Lu finally brought out the Wan Yu Ointment again.

After a long, bitter winter, spring brought warmth. Though the Demon Realm’s seasons were less defined, Mi Lu still noticed the warming temperature. By early April, he and HuLü Yan had switched to summer clothes.

The heat grew stronger each day, with blazing sunlight baking the already parched ground. Such an environment was hardly suitable for wilderness survival, and as they ventured deeper, the landscape only became harsher.

Mi Lu began considering entering a town.

The Demon Realm’s towns were different from those outside. Only demonic cultivators, spies, and exiled criminals came here. Each one posed a potential threat, leading to strict security in Demon Realm towns. In these tense times, security was even tighter.

Mi Lu had limited experience outside, and this was his first time in the Demon Realm. With no idea how to sneak into a Demon Realm town, he decided to give it a try and dragged HuLü Yan toward the nearest town, Qi City.

Qi City, while small, lay at a major crossroads, hosting a bustling nightlife scene. Even someone like Mi Lu, who lived a secluded life, had heard tales of Qi City. The town had another name—Flower City, renowned for its many brothels filled with beauties said to rival the legendary Diao Chan. Mi Lu even heard that Demon Realm’s famous Lady Wan hailed from here.

Arriving at Qi City’s gates, they saw the towering city walls, with demonic cultivators patrolling in neat rows. Below the walls, a few people waited to enter the city, but the guards showed no sign of opening the gates, instead staring coldly as each person passed through a barrier.

Watching from the shadows, Mi Lu’s heart sank.

Had the city’s entry been handled by guards, he and HuLü Yan could have slipped in. But with this high-tech barrier… the scene reminded Mi Lu of airport security in his past life.

Shit…

Frustrated, Mi Lu ran a hand through his hair and cursed under his breath.

He and HuLü Yan sat at a tea stall outside the gate. Business was good, with the tables around them filled with others unable to enter the city. At least, here, Mi Lu found a bit of comfort in their shared plight.

“Are you sure Lady Wan is coming back? She’s probably off enjoying herself, forgotten all about this place,” came a man’s complaint from the next table.

“That’s too harsh,” replied an older man beside him, patting his shoulder. “You know Lady Wan’s situation. Her cultivation has stalled for ages. If she doesn’t venture out for opportunities, should she wait here till she grows old?”

The first man scoffed. “Opportunities? You actually believe that?”

“What, you don’t?”

“Haven’t you heard? Four years ago, Lady Wan held a contest outside at Jiu Yao County. Whoever crossed the Thousands Serpent Pit first could ask her anything.”

“What?!” The older man was shocked.

“Yes, and rumor has it a young man crossed it first, and Lady Wan approached him directly. But he turned her down.”

“What?!”

“Apparently, that young man was named HuLü Yan. You know him, right? The guy who’s been causing the righteous factions all sorts of trouble lately? The one who destroyed the Medical Hall.”

“What?!”

The white-haired man was speechless with shock, staring blankly as the first man finished his tea and left. Soon, another man sat in his place, and the white-haired man eagerly recounted the gossip in hushed tones.

Listening nearby, Mi Lu finally understood how rumors spread.

Three turns to a tiger, indeed.

By now, the nearby table had gathered seven or eight onlookers, and the tragic love story of Lady Wan and HuLü Yan had escalated into their fifth breakup.

Mi Lu had heard enough. Standing up abruptly, he was about to interrupt the white-haired man’s nonsensical storytelling when a whip cracked through the air, landing squarely on someone’s back.

With a pained shout, the man cried, “Who was that?”

Startled, everyone looked up to see a tall, pale young man with jet-black hair standing beside them, holding a whip. His gaze was cold and emotionless, like he was staring at corpses.

This unnerved everyone, filling them with a strange, inexplicable fear.

The man who had been hit yelled, “Who the hell are you? Do you want to die?”

Despite his bravado, he clutched his bleeding back, wary of approaching.

Without a glance at the injured man, HuLü Yan fixed his icy gaze on the white-haired man. “I’m here to beat you. Anyone else who doesn’t want to be hit, scram.”

The white-haired man trembled, instinctively hiding behind others. HuLü Yan stepped forward, cracking his whip again, his voice cold. “Anyone who stands in my way will get hit.”

With that, the whip lashed at the nearest person, who shrieked and dodged.

The white-haired man’s face was drenched in cold sweat as he summoned his life-bound magical artifact. But before he could act, HuLü Yan’s whip tangled around it, ripping it from his hand and tossing it aside like scrap.

Frozen in fear, the white-haired man stared at HuLü Yan. Before he could speak, the whip lashed across his face, leaving a bloody gash. Writhing in pain, he fell to the ground, clutching his bleeding face.

The others had initially planned to gang up on HuLü Yan but, seeing this, reconsidered and backed away.

Everyone in the tea stall had been drawn to the commotion, studying the unfamiliar faces of HuLü Yan and Mi Lu, neither of whom they recognized. Just then, a voice exclaimed from the crowd.

“Look! Isn’t that Miss Yang Rong’s carriage?”

“Yes! I recognize it!”

“To think I’d get to see Miss Yang Rong this close—I can die happy now!”

Excitement erupted as people gathered along the road, their previous focus on HuLü Yan all but forgotten. Only a few female demonic cultivators remained behind, smirking.

Hearing the name “Yang Rong,” the white-haired man on the ground clawed his way toward the road, his face smeared with blood, crying out for her.

Mi Lu looked up and saw an exquisitely adorned carriage approaching along the road. The driver was expressionless, urging the horses forward without glancing at the crowd. But as he passed the tea stall, he caught sight of the bloodied white-haired man on the ground. In a flash, the driver appeared at his side.

“Are you alright? What happened?”

Tears streamed from the white-haired man’s eyes as he sobbed, “Brother Ah Jian, I want to see Miss Yang Rong.”

Ah Jian hesitated. “This…”

“Let him up,” came a pleasant voice from the carriage—undoubtedly Miss Yang Rong’s.

With a nod, Ah Jian helped the white-haired man into the carriage. The crowd along the road watched eagerly, straining to hear any sound from within, but not a whisper escaped.

After a long silence, Ah Jian reemerged. To everyone’s surprise, he turned to Mi Lu, bowing with a respectful gesture. “Young master, my lady wishes to see you. Would you grant her request?”

“…” Mi Lu blinked in astonishment, then pointed at himself. “Me?”

“Yes.” Ah Jian’s tone was certain. “It’s you, young master.”