Chapter 30 (Part 1)

The cool breath brushing against her cheek made her instinctively lean back, but the cage of his arms resting on either side of the table left her no room to retreat.

“Why are you dodging?” he murmured, his sharp jaw brushing against her ear as he laughed softly, his tone unhurried. “Aren’t you my woman?”

The warm breath slipping into her ear sent a tingling sensation coursing down her spine. She stiffened, her back straight as a flush crept over her pale ears.

She lowered her head, her voice trembling slightly. “I-I wasn’t dodging…”

Rong Shang’s lips curved lazily as his languid gaze swept over her. “Look at me.”

Holding her breath, Yu Zhengzheng obediently lifted her head.

His lips had been so close to her ear that her sudden movement caused them to graze against her earlobe. The light, cool contact sent a shiver through her body, and she nearly collapsed.

Rong Shang’s hand caught her by the waist, the heat of his touch seeping through the thin fabric of her clothes and into his palm.

In the silence of the bamboo house, the faint sound of someone swallowing echoed. His eyes darkened as his Adam’s apple bobbed subtly.

A low, magnetic voice rumbled near her ear, carrying a devilish allure. “Let me help you cultivate. Would you like that?”

Though the atmosphere in the room was thick with an unspoken intimacy, his gaze held no trace of desire. Instead, a cold, mocking smile lingered on his lips.

He despised those who would go to any lengths to achieve their goals.

If she agreed to dual cultivation just for the sake of her cultivation, how was she any different from the goddess who had once debased herself in pursuit of fleeting love?

The goddess had willingly become a pawn on another’s bed, offering even her own bloodline to the old priest for defilement and divulging the secret of the divine primordial soul to the Eastern Emperor’s third prince.

If Yu Zhengzheng could stoop so low today, she could betray him just as easily tomorrow.

Should she prove to be that kind of woman, it would be better to eliminate her now than let her become a lingering threat.

A thin layer of frost formed in his palm. If she dared utter a word of agreement, this very place would become her burial ground.

Yu Zhengzheng appeared somewhat dazed. Perhaps being so close to him, enveloped by his warmth, had muddled her thoughts.

After two lifetimes of singlehood, spanning nearly forty years, this was the first time she had ever been so physically close to a man.

Her gaze was fixed on his partially open robe, revealing a lean and well-defined chest. She couldn’t help but wonder—if the robe were tugged a bit lower, would she see… a king oyster mushroom or an enoki mushroom?

The cool breeze seeping through the unlatched bamboo window brought her back to her senses.

She understood what dual cultivation entailed. Although such a practice wasn’t frowned upon in the cultivation world, it was usually reserved for married couples.

Not to mention that she and the Ghost King shared no formal relationship. What if she ended up conceiving a child—would she keep it or not?

If she kept it, at the very least, the Ghost King would have to make their relationship official.

Then there’d be issues like negotiating a dowry, planning the wedding banquet, choosing a name for the child, and deciding whose surname it would bear. All of it seemed like a logistical nightmare.

And heaven forbid if it turned out to be a boy—she’d have to build him a house, prepare a bride price for his wedding, and when his wife inevitably asked the age-old question of “Who would you save first if we both fell into the water?” she’d have to graciously let herself sink to the bottom.

The more Yu Zhengzheng thought about it, the colder her heart grew. The Ghost King wasn’t helping her at all—he was clearly sabotaging her!

She shoved him away with a stern expression. “I don’t want dual cultivation.”

Rong Shang lowered his gaze, the corners of his mouth curling into a slow smile. The frost in his palm melted away, disappearing into a puddle of icy water. “If you don’t want it, then forget it.”

Just as he was about to leave, his eyes caught sight of an egg on the bamboo table.

It was roughly the size of a chicken egg, its surface faintly glowing with a subtle radiance. Though the light was nearly imperceptible, it didn’t escape his sharp gaze.

“What’s this?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Yu Zhengzheng answered truthfully, “A chicken egg laid by that hen. I boiled it this morning at the King of Yan’s residence but didn’t get a chance to eat it yet.”

Rong Shang’s narrowed eyes fell on the hen nestled at her feet—the Zhuoming bird.

Zhuoming birds were exceedingly rare, primarily because they laid eggs based on their mood. If unhappy, they could go thousands of years without laying a single egg.

He had once kept a Zhuoming bird for over a thousand years, but when it failed to lay even one egg, he’d eventually cooked and eaten it out of frustration.

Yet here she was, having had the bird for mere days, and it had already laid an egg for her. Her luck was astonishing.

His slender fingers tapped lightly on the egg, shaking it gently. As she claimed, the egg had indeed been boiled.

Zhuoming bird eggs, however, couldn’t be cooked. Heat caused their interiors to solidify, rendering them useless unless refined anew in a vessel.

Rong Shang picked up the egg. “I’ll take this.”

He had only brought two Dragon Marrow Essences with him on this journey. If he stayed trapped in this formation for too long, he feared they wouldn’t suffice.

Although the Zhuoming bird’s egg couldn’t entirely neutralize the curse behind him, it could alleviate his pain.

Yu Zhengzheng blinked, then nodded.

It was just an egg. She wasn’t so stingy as to make a fuss over it.

She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by a sharp, sudden pain in her lower abdomen, like thousands of needles stabbing her all at once. Cold sweat beaded and rolled down her forehead.

Her breathing grew labored, her face as pale as paper. It felt as if an invisible hand were choking her, leaving her gasping for air.

Rong Shang frowned. “What’s wrong with you?”

The pain became excruciating, stealing her ability to form words.

She tried to stand but swayed unsteadily. Veins bulged at her temples, and just as her legs gave way beneath her, she collapsed heavily toward the ground.

Prepared to hit the floor face-first, she was surprised to find herself instead falling into a cold embrace.

Rong Shang’s arm circled her waist as he lifted her effortlessly, carrying her toward the bed.

The bed, made of bamboo, was lined with soft and comfortable bedding. Its immaculate cleanliness invited a sense of ease.

He laid her down gently. She curled up into a ball, her small, pale face twisted in pain.

The waves of agony coursing through her body made her wish she could tear herself apart to end the suffering.

Rong Shang pressed his fingers to her wrist, his spiritual senses penetrating her meridians.

His frown deepened. Her body harbored an insidious chronic poison, eroding her flesh and blood little by little.

If left unchecked, the poison would eventually consume her internal organs, bringing about her death.

For now, the poison wouldn’t kill her, but it would subject her to relentless torment. By sunrise, its effects would subside.

Despite her unremarkable status in Penglai, she had no shortage of enemies. Whether it was Lady Lu or Yu Jiangjiang, poisoning her would have been an easy feat.

She wouldn’t die immediately, and it wouldn’t delay his plans.

As for her ultimate fate, that was no concern of his.

Rong Shang straightened, unmoving, as he reminded himself of this fact.

Since her life had nothing to do with him, it was time for him to leave.

So he turned, preparing to leave the bamboo house.

Just as he reached the doorway, a faint, almost inaudible whisper reached his ears.

“Help me…”

Help me?

He froze, the words triggering a peculiar sense of déjà vu.

In the recesses of his memory, he too had once called out those words in a childish, desperate voice.

He remembered being locked in a cage, its iron bars surrounding him on all sides. A yellow cloth draped over it, plunging him into darkness.

The Third Prince had pierced his arm over and over with embroidered needles, each jab leaving a tiny mark, his limbs covered in countless pinpricks.

The pinprick marks were subtle and not easily noticeable. If they had whipped him and damaged his body, the Eastern Emperor Priest would surely have been displeased.

The divine maiden kept crying, and he, mistakenly believing she still cared for him, repeatedly called out, “Mother, save me.”

How laughable his naivety was back then. She had betrayed even her own people—how much could he, a mere child, matter to her?

He cried out for three days, and she cried for three days too. But no one came to save him. In the end, he was delivered, battered and bruised, to the Eastern Emperor Priest’s palace.

Rong Shang stood shrouded in shadows, his downcast eyes concealing the emotions buried deep within, making it impossible to discern what he was thinking.

Her voice grew softer and softer, like a feather falling through the air, met only with silence.

Yu Zhengzheng curled into herself, her body icy cold as if plunged into a freezing abyss. The needle-like pain coursed through her veins, tearing her apart in waves, threatening to rip her asunder.

Despair filled her as she stared at the bamboo rafters of the house. If only there were a white silk ribbon hanging from above, she could end her life and be free from this inhuman torment.

Perhaps she was hallucinating, for a wisp of white did appear before her eyes.

Something cool and soft pressed against her pale lips, a sensation as tender as chilled jelly.

Her muddled mind raised her head instinctively, and her pupils tightened in shock.

It was the Ghost King… Was he kissing her?

Even as she writhed in agony, he was thinking about taking advantage of her?

Tears brimmed in Yu Zhengzheng’s eyes, and she bit down hard on his lips.

The metallic taste of blood spread across her tongue. Rong Shang frowned slightly but passed the last trace of celestial energy from his lips to hers.

The egg of the Chongming Bird was an ancient divine relic. Though it couldn’t cure poison, it could alleviate pain, providing temporary relief.