When Fan Yue reached out his hand, the pitch-black world was suddenly illuminated, and the two of them found themselves inside a cave.
Without waiting to see what was inside, Bai Shuo instinctively pulled out seven or eight protection talismans and slapped them onto herself, then swiftly hid behind Fan Yue.
Before she could finish her flurry of actions, two voices rang out simultaneously.
"Ah!" "Who’s there?"
Not evil spirits? Bai Shuo caught a whiff of a sweet fragrance, likely the scent of an immortal, and peeked out from behind Fan Yue to look deeper into the cave, where she saw a large stone bed. On it, a man and woman were entangled together, clothes in disarray. The woman hurriedly pulled her robe to cover herself, half-exposed, while the man rose leisurely, unaffected by the intrusion.
What?! A romantic tryst on a sacred immortal island?!
As Bai Shuo strained to get a better view, a pair of hands blocked her prying eyes. She didn’t need to guess to know it was her little apprentice’s hands.
"Oh, Mu Mu, come on, let me take a look, just a peek…” Before she could pry his hands away, a cold voice cut through the air.
"Bai Shuo?"
Does that man know me? Bai Shuo froze, pushing away Fan Yue’s hands to crane her neck. As she finally got a good look at the faces of the people in the cave, she was struck with recognition.
Both the man and the woman were familiar faces.
The woman was Er Li, a disciple from the inner island, and the man—Bai Shuo swallowed hard, bitterness filling her heart—what was he doing here?
Zhe Sang, Song Feng’s primary disciple, Er Yun’s fiancé, and Chong Zhao’s old rival… No, not quite. He wasn’t her enemy but rather Chong Zhao’s. As Miao Miao’s former senior disciple and head of the Twelve Flowing Cloud Disciples, Zhe Sang had trained for over a hundred years, though he hadn’t yet ascended to Immortal Lord. In the eyes of the disciples, he was Miao Miao’s undisputed successor, and both Song Feng and the late Song He had arranged for him to marry Er Yun. Three years ago, Chong Zhao had saved the former sect leader Song He and, receiving his spiritual power, joined Miao Miao as a mortal, shaking the island’s peaceful status.
Chong Zhao’s talent in cultivation was extraordinary. After only a year, he rose to become a Flowing Cloud disciple, gaining admiration from his peers, and Er Yun became quite fond of him. Zhe Sang, however, was resentful that Song He had accepted a mere mortal into the sect before his death, believing Chong Zhao’s ascent to immortality was purely opportunistic. He went out of his way to make things difficult for Chong Zhao, even going so far as to challenge him to a duel, publicly vowing that the loser would leave Miao Miao forever.
Despite his rapid progress, Chong Zhao was still no match for Zhe Sang after just a year of cultivation. Sect infighting was naturally forbidden, but Zhe Sang forced Chong Zhao to agree by swearing on his immortal essence. It was assumed Zhe Sang would easily win, yet somehow he lost, and after that, he left the island in a fit of rage, vanishing without a trace.
Bai Shuo never imagined that two years later, she would stumble upon Zhe Sang in such a compromising situation.
Wasn’t he supposed to be devoted to Er Yun, even willing to challenge Chong Zhao for her? And now, here he was, entwined with Er Li? These young people’s loyalties were indeed as thin as paper…
If Er Yun found out her fiancé was entangled with one of her own disciples, she might very well spit blood, even if she had no desire to marry him…
While Bai Shuo’s mind wandered, she nudged her little apprentice, feeling a jolt of panic. She’d forgotten about him. Zhe Sang wasn’t like the other low-level disciples; if he sensed Fan Yue’s demonic aura…
With her most ingratiating smile, she greeted Zhe Sang with a polite bow.
“Greetings, Senior Brother Zhe Sang. It’s been a while. How have you been?”
“Oh, thanks to you, I’ve been well.” Zhe Sang let out a quiet scoff, eyeing her with an icy glare.
Bai Shuo blinked. Back when Zhe Sang left, she was just a lowly herb attendant, barely recognized even by the inner island disciples, let alone the head of the Flowing Cloud Disciples. She’d assumed Zhe Sang only remembered her vaguely, which explained his immediate recognition. But his tone suggested something deeper, a grudge even.
Of course. Even as a mere herb attendant, everyone knew her as Chong Zhao’s acquaintance from the mortal realm. Since Zhe Sang resented Chong Zhao, he’d naturally resent her as well.
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