Tan Yin realized she didn’t mind the hint of laughter in his eyes. The once frivolous and cautious Grand Monk had always worn a cold expression, even when he smiled broadly. But now, the ice seemed to have melted—his eyes smiled even when he furrowed his brow.
Seeing her staring at him foolishly, lost in her own thoughts, Yuan Zhong felt a bit embarrassed under her gaze. He gently flicked her forehead with his finger, pretending to be stern. “What are you smiling at, silly? Say something.”
Tan Yin blinked in confusion. “What should I say?”
Yuan Zhong sighed, frustrated. “I told you my name! Don’t you have any manners, girl?”
Tan Yin dumbly stared at him, watching as his face shifted from pale to flushed, and then back to pale again, before turning an odd shade of green in frustration. Finally, he gritted his teeth, and she suddenly understood.
“Yuan Zhong,” she said with a soft smile.
His face, which had turned green, instantly returned to normal. Flustered yet proud, he snorted through his nose. “I’m getting up. Give me some privacy.”
As Tan Yin left the room, Yuan Zhong let out a long breath. He glanced at his left hand, still encased in that strange crystalline substance.
He still didn’t understand what this crystal was. From the day he was born, he had inherited this left hand, nearly invincible and unbeatable. Now it was sealed, and its power could no longer be unleashed. This change felt like his entire world had been upended. Perhaps it was time to consider how he would move forward without the immense power of his left hand.
He wasn’t alone anymore. He had Ji Tan Yin by his side, and he needed to protect her. What happened last night couldn’t happen again.
He changed into a fresh set of dark robes and, seeing the bloodstains on his old clothes and the bed linens, he recalled the harrowing events of the previous night, his heart still racing from the memory.
Just then, there was a knock at the door. Tan Yin’s voice called from outside, “Grand Monk... Yuan Zhong, may I come in?”
He quickly checked himself in the bronze mirror. His hair was still in place, and his clothes were reasonably tidy. He hastily bundled up the bloodied clothes and bed sheets, tossing them into the corner before opening the door. Tan Yin stood there holding a wooden box, with a hammer and some copper chisels on top. A sudden sense of dread filled him as his mind raced to some rather terrifying conclusions, his face turning pale.
“W-What are you going to do?” he stammered.
Tan Yin, now wearing a cloth apron around her chest, retrieved another piece of cloth from her Qiankun bag and gently draped it over his shoulders. “I’m going to remove the Divine Crystal from your left hand.”
Yuan Zhong eyed her warily. “Do you know how?”
Those tools—the hammer, the chisels—they didn’t exactly inspire confidence. It felt like his hand was about to be broken.
Tan Yin patted his shoulder reassuringly and pushed him down into a chair. She took his left hand, encased in the Divine Crystal, into hers and began to examine it closely.
“Don’t worry. I won’t even scratch your skin.”
She said this with the confidence of someone who claimed the title of the world’s unparalleled craftsman. If she didn’t have this assurance, she wouldn’t deserve that title.
She put on her dragon-skin gloves and pulled various jars and odd items from her Qiankun bag. At times, she poured strange-colored liquids over his hand; other times, she used fire to heat it, and then sprinkled black powder. After nearly half an hour of work, she finally took up the copper chisel, setting it against the thickest part of the crystal on his palm. With a light tap of the hammer—crack—the blackish-gray lower-grade Divine Crystal split with a crisp sound.
Fortunately, this wasn’t high-grade Divine Crystal, or it would’ve been much more troublesome.
Yuan Zhong said nothing, quietly watching her as she worked. Her jawline was smooth, like white porcelain, and her nose, delicate. A tiny bead of sweat clung to the tip of her nose. Her hair was thick, with an ancient-style bun, and two strands fell by her ears, catching the sunlight, revealing a subtle reddish tint in the pure black. Her long eyelashes fluttered as she worked with intense concentration, her clear eyes completely focused on his left hand.
He knew this wasn’t her true appearance. The real Ji Tan Yin looked entirely different. He tried to see past her physical form, to glimpse her true face, but he couldn’t see through the disguise.
Yuan Zhong lowered his head slightly, trying to get a good look into her eyes. The eyes never lied. No matter how much she changed her appearance, those eyes wouldn’t change.
She had eyes like black gemstones—focused, not seductive or charming, but cool and distant, almost solitary. Yet when she worked on something, her gaze burned with a passion that seemed to consume her very soul.
He suddenly remembered the night he had been gravely injured, drifting in and out of consciousness. In that haze, he had seen those very eyes—the eyes that had haunted his thoughts.
His hand trembled suddenly. Tan Yin, thinking she had hurt him, immediately grasped his hand gently, speaking softly, “Don’t move.”
He said nothing, his eyelids drooping slightly. But then, as if refusing to give in, he raised his eyes again, locking onto hers. His heart pounded fiercely, as if it might burst from his chest. His hand began trembling uncontrollably.
Tan Yin paused, looking at him in confusion. “Did I hurt you?”
Yuan Zhong slowly shook his head, pressing his right hand to his forehead, his wide sleeve covering his face. His voice was low and hoarse. “No… keep going.”
The Divine Crystal encasing his left hand was soon entirely removed. Tan Yin carefully collected the shards, placing them into the wooden box. She poured a bowl of water, gently blew into it, then poured it over the shards. The blackish-gray pieces quickly expanded, becoming a thick, sticky substance like paste.
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