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Yin Zhi and the old physician looked up from where they sat, pale and drained, clutching their teacups with trembling hands.
Mo Tian sat with effortless elegance, his presence filling the chamber with quiet dominance. Yin Zhi quickly poured steaming tea and placed it before him, his hands steady despite the tension in the air.
"The old physician has improved," Mo Tian remarked lightly, his crimson eyes glinting as though amused.
"Improved? You ungrateful brat!" the physician snapped, his long white beard trembling with fury. "Do you have any idea how much spiritual energy I wasted suppressing the demonic qi raging inside your body? Do you know how many nobles are begging me to treat them instead?"
Mo Tian tilted his head, lips curving into a smile cold enough to send shivers down the spine. "So you want me to thank you?"
The physician's anger evaporated in an instant. He waved his hands quickly. "No need. I don't need it!"
Yin Zhi leaned forward, his expression tight with concern. "Your Majesty, how is it now? Has the suppression worked?"
"Mo Tian's gaze slid to him, calm but sharp. 'Better. Didn't you notice? Even your demonic Qi has grown stronger than before.
The old physician cut in sharply, his tone heavy. Enough. You must not attempt another breakthrough for at least three months. If you do, the wound in your demonic core could reopen, and the lingering poison will tear through you again.
Do you understand how much of our strength it cost just to restrain your advance? One wrong step, and that injury could cripple you beyond healing.
"What a pity," the old physician muttered, his tone sharp as his gaze lingered on Mo Tian. "If we don't find a way to cure that poison and heal your old injury, advancing to the next rank will be nothing short of torture. That wretched father of yours truly did a number on you."
He gave a derisive snort, his wrinkled lips curling. "But I doubt he fared any better. You two are exactly alike—father and son, both fighting like beasts.
"One uses a witch's Sealing Spell and poison to cripple an opponent's cultivation, the other relies on poison in battle, even targeting your Meridians and demonic core. Disgusting. Nothing like us of the Witch Realm."His eyes narrowed with disdain as he looked at Mo Tian.
Yin Zhi sat silently to the side, his fist covering his mouth as he struggled to suppress a laugh.
He had lost count of how many times he had witnessed such scenes.
Though they argued like this, they had known each other for over two hundred years, through battles and grudges, trading words as venomous as daggers.
To outsiders, it looked like they hated each other's guts. But Yin Zhi knew the truth: their bond ran deeper than it appeared, forged in blood, survival, and unspoken secrets.
Mo Tian leaned back slightly, his crimson eyes glinting with icy amusement. Though his body carried the youthful appearance of a man barely past twenty, he was a demon over three hundred years old. His lips curved into a mocking smile.
"If your Witch Realm is so righteous," he said lazily, "then tell me… why is there still a bounty of over two thousand gold coins on your head? Why were you running from it like a rat?"
The words struck deep. The hot spring chamber fell into silence, the steam suddenly feeling heavy and oppressive. The old physician's face darkened, his pride wounded, yet he said nothing. Yin Zhi lowered his gaze, wisely holding his tongue as the air between the two ancient figures grew sharp enough to cut.
The old physician's beard quivered as he rose to his feet. "Is it not because I am a stubborn old man who refuses to bow to that wretched Witch Queen?" he snapped, swinging his sleeve with indignation before storming out, the door slamming shut behind him.
Yin Zhi chuckled, tilting his head toward Mo Tian. "You provoked him on purpose again, didn't you? I've lost count of how many times you've pulled this trick."
Mo Tian rose with unhurried grace, his lips curving faintly. "Watching him angry amuses me. There are few things in this world that can keep me entertained." His eyes darkened as his thoughts drifted—unbidden—to Feng Ling.
The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk, and his fingers brushed against his lips, as though savoring a secret no one else could guess.
By dawn, the world outside the palace softened under the first light of morning. Within her chamber, Feng Ling stirred. Nestled in her silken bed, she hugged her pillow tightly, her cheek rubbing against it with unconscious affection.
A faint smile curved her lips, sweet and content, as though she were dreaming of something—or someone—she could never admit aloud.
The "pillow" in Feng Ling's arms stiffened. A faint heat radiated from his body, one that spoke volumes to a man who had lived for centuries.
Mo Tian was no naïve youth—he understood the meaning of such closeness all too well. Yet the woman clinging to him remained blissfully unaware, her soft breath tickling his chest as though nothing were amiss.
His jaw tightened. For a moment, he was tempted to roll over, to pin her beneath him and end this torment of restraint. But before he could act, Feng Ling stirred.
Still lost in a dream of sharing her favorite meal with her family, she burrowed deeper into the warmth she held. Her brow furrowed faintly. Strange… when did the jade pillow become this hard? She squeezed it experimentally, confusion flickering across her sleepy face. This… doesn't feel like a pillow at all.
No, the pillow wasn't supposed to be this hard, Feng Ling thought groggily. She slowly opened her eyes and lifted her head, her golden gaze meeting someone else's red eyes. Startled, she leapt from the bed—only to land face-first on the ground, groaning in pain.
Mo Tian looked at her with complete indifference, not bothering to help her up. He crossed his arms over his chest and continued watching her as if she were nothing more than a scene in a play.
Outside, the guards who had heard her groan couldn't help but blush. One whispered, "The Emperor and the Empress are really impatient… even unable to control themselves in broad daylight."
Another young guard frowned and whispered back, "Shut your mouth before the Emperor hears you, or your head will surely fall."