That night, Song Qing Shi held Yue Wu Huan tightly in his arms, offering frantic words of comfort. Philosophy, medicine, sociology—everything was in play, and in his emotional state, he even switched between English, German, and Latin. Yue Wu Huan couldn't understand him, and honestly, even Song Qing Shi didn't know what he was saying.
At least his intentions were right...
Yue Wu Huan had already recovered. He silently breathed in the comforting medicinal aroma, listening to the incoherent but reassuring words. A slight, bitter smile curled his lips.
He knew better than to hide his dirty past for the sake of temporary comfort. Sooner or later, someone would use it to manipulate and tarnish his relationship with Song Qing Shi. That's why, even if Song Qing Shi hadn't discovered those albums in Yue Cheng, he planned to guide him to the bookstore and "accidentally" let him see them. He wanted to be honest while Song Qing Shi still held affection for him, pre-empting anyone who would exploit the past.
How laughable…
Though he was prepared, when Song Qing Shi opened the album, he felt unbearable shame. What was even worse: Song Qing Shi's eyes held anger and sympathy but not a trace of desire, making him realize how different their affections were.
Song Qing Shi's love was about admiration, cherishing, and care.
His love was about possession, invasion, and desire.
Yue Wu Huan greedily kissed the tips of his hair, nearly driven mad by his thoughts...
Why did each test reveal even more of this man's virtues?
How could he ever let go?
How wonderful it would be to have met him when he was still unblemished.
Venomous resentment spread from his heart to his whole being. He loathed Xie Que, Jin Fei Rui, and everything that had tainted him. He loathed this repulsive world and wanted to destroy everything outside the Valley of the Medicine King, leaving behind only a sanctuary with just one person—more than enough…
...
After this incident, they abandoned their plans to tour Yue Cheng, rested for a night, and set off for the Valley of the Medicine King the next morning.
Throughout the journey, Song Qing Shi pondered various ways to disguise Yue Wu Huan and protect his identity.
He even considered plastic surgery to completely alter his face but ultimately couldn't bear to mar such perfection…
Suddenly, the sound of cultivators battling echoed from the forest.
Song Qing Shi paused and looked, seeing two cultivators of Golden Core level fighting fiercely. Sword Qi crisscrossed and magical treasures filled the sky. After about two quarters of an hour, the cultivator in black was defeated. The victorious one took his magical tools and mustard seed pouch before hurriedly flying away on his sword.
Such kill-for-treasure acts were common in the celestial realm, and it was impossible to determine identities or grievances.
Therefore, unless familiar with one of the parties, one would typically not intervene.
Song Qing Shi followed the laws of this world and had no desire to get involved in the mess. After observing for a moment, he prepared to steer his mythical beast away.
However, Yue Wu Huan stopped him: "Master, let's go and see; the person might still be alive."
With that, Yue Wu Huan guided his mythical beast towards the injured black-clothed cultivator. Seeing this, Song Qing Shi quickly followed.
The black-clothed cultivator was alive but critically injured, suffering from multiple lacerations and internal organ damage. He was unconscious, and without immediate treatment, he wouldn't last long.
Valley of the Medicine King had a policy to avoid trouble: never admit patients with unclear origins.
Song Qing Shi frowned, hesitating.
Yue Wu Huan squatted down, put on gloves, and meticulously examined the wounds. Then he asked, "Master, you've recently taught me suturing techniques and external wound treatment. I've mastered them in theory but lack hands-on practice. Could we take this injured person back to the Valley to allow me to practice my medical skills?"
Our protagonist, though faced with ugliness, remains good-hearted at his core and might someday become a renowned healer.
Song Qing Shi pondered for a while but quickly agreed. He provided emergency care before placing the injured man on their mythical beast and heading back.
Once at the Valley of the Medicine King, Song Qing Shi placed the injured person in a quiet infirmary.
This was Yue Wu Huan's first patient. He was incredibly diligent, suturing wounds, brewing and administering medicines, and monitoring vital signs. Even Song Qing Shi couldn't help but admire his natural talent; he excelled in every aspect, even his medical records were impeccable. Once the patient showed significant improvement, Song Qing Shi comfortably handed over all responsibilities to Yue Wu Huan.
The black-clothed cultivator woke up three days later. Smelling the medicinal aroma in the room and feeling his tightly bandaged wounds, he knew he had been saved and was immensely relieved. Looking up to thank his savior, he recognized a face he could never forget.
"Was it—you who saved me?" murmured the black-clothed cultivator.
Yue Wu Huan, who had been attending to him for quite some time, bowed respectfully: "Your servant greets the immortal."
The black-clothed cultivator, named She Yun, was a demon cultivator of no significant status. Two years ago, he and a friend had been guests at Jin Feng Villa. Given their low status, they should not have encountered someone as beautiful as Yue Wu Huan. Yet, as a punishment for displeasing a high-ranking guest, Yue Wu Huan had been drugged and given to them for their amusement.
His eyes, lazy like a phoenix; the bewitching tear mole; the enchanting voice; the slave seal.
The joy of that night was unforgettable.
No courtesans from any brothel could ever compare.
She Yun fixed his eyes intently on Yue Wu Huan, feeling his throat go dry. Slaves, under the influence of the Submission Seal, are incapable of harming others. So what could Yue Wu Huan's purpose be in saving him? Could it be that he still remembered him?
Under the intense gaze, Yue Wu Huan lowered his eyes slightly, pouring out the medicinal liquid that had been carefully warmed over a low flame. He served it attentively, and then, with a smile, said, "The medicine is bitter; would the immortal like a sugar pill?"
With pale fingers, he placed a sugar pellet into She Yun's mouth.
His beautiful eyes looked at him, filled entirely with tenderness and expectation.
She Yun felt woozy and incapable of thought; as soon as the sugar pellet entered his mouth, he detected a curious bitterness hidden within it.
After administering the medicine to She Yun, Yue Wuhuan began to tidy up the room. He moved all the miscellaneous items into a corner, leaving only a small empty table and chair. Then he donned a pair of thin gloves made from magical beast skin.
She Yun asked expectantly, "Do you remember me?"
Yue Wuhuan returned and looked at him, his eyes aglow with desire, "The Immortal Master has given me much pleasure; how could I forget?"
The man he used to be resembled a flower artificially pruned: beautiful but contrived. Now, he exuded a vivid allure, brighter than before. Wouldn't Jin Feiruo regret letting such stunning beauty slip through his fingers?
She Yun felt his mouth go dry, his heart race, his body soften, and a stirring below.
Yue Wuhuan glanced down at him and smiled even more entrancingly. He lightly traced his fingertip across She Yun's chest, undoing his clothing, then pressed firmly, saying ambiguously, "Today, shall we share more joys together?"
Aroused and almost disbelieving his good fortune, She Yun quickly agreed, "I am charmed by you. If your master disposes of you, I am willing to take you with me."
Hearing this, Yue Wuhuan laughed as if he had heard something incredibly amusing.
Immediately after, She Yun saw Yue Wuhuan place a sound-proofing array on the door. He then took out an assortment of strange little tools from a pouch and arranged them on a table covered with white cloth—scalpels, scissors, forceps, saws, and other terrifying implements. He began to explain, "This is a dissecting knife, these are surgical scissors and bone cutters, these are curved forceps..."
Sensing danger, She Yun struggled to rise but found himself immobilized, his limbs unresponsive.
"You've ingested a puppetry pill. It's not a perfect concoction, as it can't control your movements completely, but it's sufficient," Yue Wuhuan put on a robe, wore a mask, picked up the scalpel and asked concernedly, "Aside from being immobilized, you can still feel everything, right?"
She Yun exclaimed in both shock and anger, "You're not controlled by the Love Seal?"
Yue Wuhuan let out a derisive chuckle, his eyes devoid of any human emotion, filled instead with overflowing madness and desire—reminiscent of a demon crawled from hell.
"Please, please don't do this," finally realizing what was about to happen, She Yun roared in desperate pleas, "Spare me!"
Like that fateful night, the demon faced a defenseless lamb. There was no pity, no mercy, only cruel manipulation.
The scalpel fell heavily, and the cries of agony lingered.
"Did you enjoy being penetrated?"
The demon delightfully repeated each word of the phrase he had once uttered.
"Come, let me revel in this earthly paradise..."
"Pleasure me with your despicable body..."
"Scream for me, make it soul-stirring..."
"..."
Yue Wu Huan looked at his hands, dirty with blood, and felt incredibly satisfied.
It turns out he truly was a madman.
...
The night deepened, yet Song Qing Shi remained seated on the divan in his library, engrossed in a book. He suddenly noticed Yue Wu Huan leaning against the doorframe, watching him. At some point, he had taken a bath and now wore a freshly-made red robe. The scent of orchids and herbs wafted from him, his hair still damp and carelessly tied back. He appeared to be in high spirits.
Song Qing Shi lifted his hand, beckoning him over. "Bathing so late? Be careful not to catch a cold."
"I got my clothes dirty, so I washed them," Yue Wu Huan obediently replied as he settled on the divan. Casually flipping open a book, he added, "I can't sleep. May I keep you company and read for a while?"
Naturally, Song Qing Shi welcomed the idea and pushed some snacks toward him.
"By the way," Yue Wu Huan said casually, "the cultivator we saved a few days ago woke up. He insisted on leaving, so I let him go."
Song Qing Shi looked surprised. "He left? His injuries haven't fully healed yet, have they?"
"It seemed he had some private matters that weighed on him. I didn't want to pry," Yue Wu Huan explained.
Not wanting to upset him, Song Qing Shi counseled, "Patients who leave against medical advice are beyond our control. Let him be."
Yue Wu Huan smiled. "It's fine; he gave me compensation. We're even now."
Seeing that Yue Wu Huan didn't dwell on it, Song Qing Shi set the matter aside and focused on his reading.
Yue Wu Huan lazily leaned in, savoring the scent that emanated from Song Qing Shi.
The frenzied urge to kill gradually dissipated; the bloodthirsty desire slowly settled.
This was his sanctuary.