Chapter 28: The Night’s Entanglement

In the pitch-black, endless night, the hazy, milky moonlight spilled down, draping everything in a thin, soft veil, adding a trace of indescribable beauty.

Inside the room, silence.

Only the faint sound of breathing.

The young boy on the inner side of the bed slept soundly, his face pressed into the pillow, cheeks slightly puffed, crimson lips parted in a thin slit.

His sleeping posture was far from obedient. Perhaps because the tail tucked under his lower back was uncomfortable, he lay on his side, unconsciously hugging his fluffy fox tail with both arms, as if holding a big, snow-white cloud in his embrace.

Even though he had reverted to human form, he still retained some small habits.

It was adorable.

By the time Xie Jue came to his senses, he realized he had been staring at the boy for quite a while.

Given the situation, he couldn’t very well wake the boy up and send him back; the young master would definitely throw a tantrum. But willingly giving up the bed and reluctantly sleeping on the small couch? That he was unwilling to do.

Su Zhuozhi had brazenly occupied his bed. Why should he yield?

Thinking thus, Xie Jue lifted the covers and lay down as well.

The living quarters for disciples of the Ten Thousand Swords Sect weren’t bad, but compared to the Su residence, the difference was still significant. The bed, for instance, was merely a single bed—room enough for one, but with two people, there was little space in between. Any slight movement would inevitably lead to contact.

Moreover, it was now winter. The mountain’s feng shui was good, but the nights were cold and damp, the chill seeping into the room, impossible to ward off even while wrapped in blankets.

Su Zhuozhi was sensitive to the cold. Before long, he shuffled toward the source of warmth, burrowing into Xie Jue’s embrace, finding a comfortable spot on his own, and continuing to sleep. Throughout the entire process, he never opened his eyes; it was all done unconsciously.

Suddenly, Xie Jue found a curled-up person in his arms—soft everywhere, exuding a faint, sweet fragrance.

For a moment, he froze, as if unsure where to put his hands.

But the demonic energy couldn’t hold back. It was extremely fond of being close to Su Zhuozhi. Every time it drew near, it stirred restlessly, excited like a dog spotting a meaty bone.

And now the bone was right before its eyes. Which dog could resist giving it a few licks?

The pitch-black energy surged forward impatiently, engulfing the beautiful young man like a starving wild dog. Yet, strangely, it retained a shred of rationality. When it finally touched him, afraid of breaking the precious thing, it restrained its force, burrowed into the boy’s neck, and cautiously nuzzled and licked.

Just that was enough to make it tremble with excitement.

Xie Jue’s gaze instantly turned cold. Disgust and anger rose within him at the shameless behavior of the demonic energy. But this time, anger outweighed disgust.

It felt like jealousy.

Deeply jealous of his own demonic energy.

Even though this energy was a part of him.

A soft grunt.

Su Zhuozhi frowned, feeling uncomfortable. He buried his head deeper into Xie Jue’s chest and muttered discontentedly, “Cold…”

The icy demonic energy had chilled him.

The energy halted. It could go wild and resist even when Xie Jue angrily crushed it, but now, being rejected by Su Zhuozhi, it dared not argue. It could only retreat dejectedly, loitering reluctantly by the bedside for a couple of laps before drifting over to the charcoal brazier in the corner, trying to warm itself.

But how could mere flames suppress or change demonic energy?

It was utterly useless.

Such a frigid temperature would likely only please the young master in the height of summer.

The demonic energy seemed to realize that too, and instantly became even more despondent and pitiful. Its massive form shrank into a tiny ball, like a little dark cloud, crouching in the corner, wallowing in self-isolation.

Yet it was still unwilling to give up.

It drifted back to the bedside, staring eagerly, just like a dog held back from food, drooling endlessly.

Xie Jue faced away from the edge of the bed, holding Su Zhuozhi in his arms.

He knew what was happening behind him and sneered inwardly, despising the energy’s lack of dignity. Knowing it didn’t dare come closer, he didn’t forcefully suppress it but let it lie by the bed, staring intently all night long.

The next day, dawn broke.

Bright sunlight streamed into the room.

Su Zhuozhi found it glaring. He curled up and instinctively burrowed deeper under the covers. Last night, he had a strange dream—a giant python coiled around him, its tongue licking his neck, cold, slippery, sticky, making him tremble uncontrollably. He was terrified the snake would suddenly go mad and swallow him whole.

Having had that dream, he hadn’t slept well. Combined with his habit of sleeping in, Su Zhuozhi absolutely did not want to get up.

He shrank further into the blanket, still half-asleep, feeling an itch on his ears. He couldn’t help but rub them against something. That slightly hard touch was clearly not the blanket but Xie Jue’s solid chest.

Too drowsy to think clearly, Su Zhuozhi didn’t notice anything amiss.

After a few rubs, Xie Jue finally couldn’t take it anymore. His jawline tightened, his features turning cold and rigid. In an unnatural tone, he said, “Young master, you should get up.”

He grabbed Su Zhuozhi’s arms and tried to lift him out of his embrace, creating some distance. Early morning like this, it was really…

Su Zhuozhi had a bad temper when woken up. Back at the Su residence, it was always a struggle to get him to go to the Imperial Academy every day. Naturally, Xie Jue couldn’t succeed with a simple call.

Forcing him awake only made him angrier. He refused to get up.

“I’m dead tired,” he mumbled.

With that, he rolled over heavily, wrapping himself like a zongzi. Xie Jue reached out to pull the covers, but suddenly, his breath caught, and his expression changed slightly.

Su Zhuozhi, unaware of what had happened, stretched his legs and tried to burrow deeper into the bed, determined to stay glued to it forever.

But the next moment, a tingling sensation shot up his tailbone, like a tiny electric current, startling him into a yelp.

From above came Xie Jue’s low, hoarse voice, his tone very subtle: “Young master, would you like to see where you just kicked?”

So what if I kicked you? You deserved it!

Still fuming, Su Zhuozhi mentally retorted, opened his eyes, and glared at Xie Jue, ready to curse. But at that moment, his gaze followed the impact point, and he froze. Then, silently, he withdrew his leg.

Alright, this…

A hint of guilt crept onto Su Zhuozhi’s face.

With that distraction, there was no way he could continue sleeping.

Su Zhuozhi got up to wash up. He had come over barefoot last night, and there were no shoes by the bed. He looked at Xie Jue, blinked, and sat waiting to be served.

Xie Jue took a deep breath, turned around, and fetched his shoes. He also brought a basin of water, a clean towel, and willow twigs with fine salt.

The water temperature was just right—not too hot, not too cold.

After washing up, Xie Jue helped him change into the disciple robe. It was plain and white, but Su Zhuozhi’s looks and temperament made it seem anything but dull; on the contrary, the robe appeared more elegant. It was easy to imagine that among a crowd of disciples, he would undoubtedly be the most outstanding.

During breakfast, Su Zhuozhi glanced at Xie Jue a couple of times, hesitated, and asked softly, “…Are you still alright?”

Though the question came out of nowhere, Xie Jue understood.

He was referring to the incident when they woke up. Su Zhuozhi was worried that his kick had done some damage. For a man, that was no trivial matter.

Xie Jue’s face darkened, and he remained silent.

Putting himself in Xie Jue’s shoes, Su Zhuozhi coughed apologetically and said, “I dreamed last night that a snake was trying to eat me. I didn’t sleep well. I didn’t mean to kick you. If you’re feeling uncomfortable, don’t bottle it up. I’ll take you to see a doctor. I’ve heard those medical cultivators are amazing—they can reattach even severed hands. Even if you…”

Su Zhuozhi choked, then quickly waved his hand. “Ah, I didn’t say that. You said it.”

He suspected he wasn’t fully awake yet. The more he talked, the worse it got, so he dropped his head and focused on eating, saying no more.

The young master wasn’t used to comforting others. After saying a couple of sentences with no response from Xie Jue, he stopped. He had already expressed his apology and offered a solution. If Xie Jue really had a problem, he would take responsibility. But further coaxing? Not happening.

At the new disciple schoolhouse.

The Ten Thousand Swords Sect tailored teaching to individual aptitudes. Since Su Zhuozhi and Xie Jue had different spiritual roots, their arranged courses overlapped in some areas but differed in others. Thus, they had to attend some classes separately.

Su Zhuozhi took out Xie Jue’s belongings from his storage pouch and handed them over. Then, with a wave of his hand, he turned and left.

Casual and brisk, showing no sign of last night’s low spirits, when he had whined about missing home and insisted on company.

Xie Jue stood expressionless in place until that figure, without a single backward glance, completely disappeared from sight. Only then did he turn and enter the schoolhouse.

Unlike Xie Jue’s cold, forbidding aura, Su Zhuozhi’s side was as radiant as blooming flowers.

With the young master’s personality, making friends came naturally and effortlessly.

He was good-looking, smiled sweetly, left a great first impression, and his conversation was pleasant, making people unconsciously warm up to him. Moreover, he was an exceedingly rare and talented heavenly spiritual root. Who wouldn’t want to befriend him?

So when he emerged from class to attend the same talisman lesson as Xie Jue, Xie Jue found his young master surrounded by a crowd of people—so annoying that he could barely see him, only catching a glimpse of the tip of his tail.

Yes, Su Zhuozhi hadn’t put on a cloak to hide it.

Because it was warm indoors, a cloak would have been inconvenient. If anyone stared at his fox ears and tail and gossiped, he had no fear. He would simply stare back, his dazzling, imposing face, proud and aloof. Without a word, those people would blush, look away, and dare not say another word.

Since it didn’t affect him, Su Zhuozhi naturally did whatever was comfortable.

He didn’t care, but Xie Jue found it unbearable.

What right did a bunch of riffraff have to be so close to his young master? He even saw someone eyeing the young master’s pointed ears, itching to touch them, and reaching out.

Xie Jue’s face darkened instantly. He strode forward and grabbed the person’s arm with such force that the sound of bones cracking could be heard. The other man’s face turned pale as he cried out in pain. Looking up, he met Xie Jue’s terrifying expression and shuddered.

Seeing the tense atmosphere, a bystander quickly tried to mediate. “What’s going on? Let go first. Let’s talk this out.”

Xie Jue said coldly, “There’s nothing to talk about. Next time, I’ll cripple your hand.”

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, the man, perhaps feeling humiliated, stiffened his neck and shouted, “Who are you? What business is it of yours? Su Zhuozhi didn’t even say anything! Why are you meddling like a dog catching a mouse?”

Xie Jue sneered. “So you admit you’re a mouse?”

The man’s face turned blue with fury, but he couldn’t come up with a strong retort. So he tried to attack with spiritual energy.

Su Zhuozhi pressed down on Xie Jue’s forearm, stepped forward, and looked down at the man. “You have a problem with my guard? Even if he did something wrong, it’s my place to teach him a lesson. Who do you think you are?”

Someone who had witnessed the earlier scene spoke up. “He was about to touch Su Zhuozhi’s fox ears. That’s why the guard grabbed him.”

Upon hearing this, Su Zhuozhi’s expression grew even colder and more arrogant. “Did I give you permission to touch me? With such rudeness, I don’t think my guard did anything wrong.”

Murmurs arose from the crowd, blaming the man for crossing the line. A demon’s ears and tail were very special—only family and partners could touch them. Such reckless offense deserved at least a broken hand.

In the end, the man, too humiliated to stay, turned and fled.

After this incident, almost all the disciples learned that the beautiful fox-eared boy had a loyal personal guard by his side. Anyone who tried to get too close would be warned off by a cold glare.

Classes ended for the day.

Su Zhuozhi ate dinner and returned to his quarters. He lay on the small couch, playing with the Mystic Light Mirror. Almost all the furnishings in the room had been replaced, turning it into a miniature version of his bedroom at Yulan Hall, making it much more comfortable.

On the small couch lay a soft velvet blanket and embroidered cushions.

Su Zhuozhi hugged a pillow, lounging lazily and wantonly, poking the Mystic Light Mirror with his finger. His long legs dangled over the end of the couch, swaying idly, while his fluffy tail behind his waist twitched restlessly, curling left and right.

Xie Jue’s gaze unconsciously followed it, as if it were a dog teasing stick he couldn’t resist pouncing on.

Su Zhuozhi had never been a diligent person. He listened attentively to interesting lessons, daydreamed during boring ones, and was lax with assignments. Now that he was in the cultivation world, these habits carried over.

After meditating for a short while, he discovered that lying down also allowed him to absorb spiritual energy—just a bit slower than when fully focused. So he shamelessly slacked off.

Ever since getting the Mystic Light Mirror, he had become addicted to it, even looking at it during meals. It was filled with all sorts of interesting things, such as:

A male cultivator’s master was extremely good to him, giving him elixirs, magical artifacts, spirit pets, and cultivation manuals without holding anything back. The three senior brothers also took great care of him. When he was injured, they traveled thousands of miles to find medicinal herbs; on his birthday, they presented him with a handmade hairpin artifact; when he was feeling down, they did everything to make him smile.

Such a harmonious master-disciple relationship was enviable. But soon, the cultivator’s junior brother, who had been missing for ten years and presumed dead, returned. Even more shocking was that this junior brother looked eight-tenths similar to him. As soon as he returned, the master and senior brothers rushed to him, their eyes red, treating him with immense care and concern.

It was then that the cultivator realized he had been a replacement for his junior brother all along. The master and senior brothers had been kind to him only because of his resemblance to the junior brother. Heartbroken, he decided to leave the Heavenly Derivative Sect, but the eldest senior brother stopped him, saying he had enjoyed the benefits meant for the junior brother for years and now had to return what belonged to him. The junior brother’s dantian was shattered and dry, needing his golden core for nourishment.

The cultivator couldn’t believe it. He went berserk and fought the eldest senior brother…

The gossip stopped there.

Su Zhuozhi, having been thoroughly engrossed in the story, felt a pang of annoyance. He let out a groan and punched the pillow. “What happens next? Why is it cut off? Did that cultivator kill his master and senior brothers? Did he manage to leave the sect? And what about the white moonlight?”

This was a real event in the cultivation world. It made one marvel that reality was more absurd than fiction.

Besides the substitute story, there was also one about a true daughter, switched at birth, finally finding her family, only to have her biological parents love the fake daughter more. Another tale of a cultivator whose dao partner and mistress conspired to murder him and steal his wealth, only for him to return five years later to reclaim everything.

Such stories were countless.

Su Zhuozhi was completely immersed, his excitement growing. He couldn’t help but discuss them with Xie Jue, urging him to read along.

But Xie Jue had no interest in such romantic entanglements. To become so pathetic over a fleeting emotion was truly laughable.

“From love comes worry, from love comes fear. If one is free from love, there is no worry and no fear.”

He would never be so foolish as to entrust his joys and sorrows to another, to be anxious and uncertain, to yearn without fulfillment.

When Su Zhuozhi failed to get a response from him, he turned to others to chat. Before he knew it, it was late, and he decided not to return, saying he would stay overnight with a classmate.

Xie Jue: “…??!!”

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