Silver needles glimmered with a cold light, their trajectory hidden within the autumn breeze, impossible to detect.
Pu Yehai's eyes sharpened with ruthless intent. His frail and sickly appearance was gone, replaced by a chilling surge of killing intent. Threads of black silk seeped out from between his fingers, coiling around the tips of the five silver needles.
The autumn wind swept past, brushing coolness against Yao Ranran's neck.
She did not turn, only lifted her remaining right hand to touch her throat before letting it fall again. The footsteps behind her suddenly ceased. Curious, she glanced back—only to see Pu Yehai standing there, his right hand tucked behind him, while his left covered his mouth in a violent fit of coughing, his body trembling with each shudder.
"Ye Daoyou, are you alright?" Yao Ranran's eyes widened with surprise.
"Cough… cough… I'm fine…" Pu Yehai forced the words out, his voice hoarse and heavy from the coughing.
Yao Ranran frowned, her concern plain. "Ye Daoyou, I'll settle Physician Zhou down immediately and escort you back. Illness cannot be delayed!"
"No need…" Pu Yehai pressed down the cough, hastily cutting her off.
But Yao Ranran misunderstood. "Ye Daoyou, there's no need to stand on ceremony. I have no urgent matters today, staying with you a while is no trouble."
She turned and quickened her steps.
Pu Yehai's pupils contracted as he revealed the hand hidden behind his back.
That hand was riddled with countless needle wounds. The five silver needles he had meant to strike with had pierced straight through his palm, embedding themselves in the flesh. Black silk writhed like bone-gnawing ants, spreading corruption until his entire arm turned blackish-purple.
He hurriedly swallowed a detoxifying pill, slowing the venom's spread.
But the dense network of wounds continued to seep blood, trickling down his arm and pooling into wide streaks of red.
Pu Yehai ripped his inner robe into strips, quickly binding the wounds to stanch the flow. His expression twisted as he fixed his gaze on the woman's retreating figure, eyes glinting with ferocity.
A moment ago, he had hidden his strike within the autumn breeze, yet she had not sensed a thing. It must have been her enchanted robe—its autonomous defense had sprung to life, lashing out thorny vines that pierced his arm and deflected his needles back into his own flesh.
Beads of cold sweat ran down his temple. His eyes sharpened again, and with lightning speed, he prepared to strike once more.
This woman rarely descended the mountain alone. Whether a Divine Transformation elder was nearby remained unknown, but today was the best chance to eliminate her. He must not let it slip away.
All he had to do was avoid the robe's vines.
Pu Yehai gathered all his strength into his left arm. His arm swelled grotesquely, shrouded in billowing black mist. Blood surged through it, demonic qi erupted skyward.
It all happened in the blink of an eye.
Unaware, Yao Ranran carried Zhou Lili on her shoulder into the room, bending down to lay her gently upon a bed.
Pu Yehai's eyes turned bloodshot, scarlet veins crawling across his vision.
"One layer, three layers, seven layers… a hundred layers!"
How could one robe carry so many layers of shield?!
In the span of a few breaths, Pu Yehai had already stripped away all the defenses of Yao Ranran's Water Lily Silken Skirt But the moment the last barrier shattered, another instantly formed.
Yao Ranran, having set Zhou Lili down, suddenly felt a chill and turned her head.
Pu Yehai's body curled inward, his pupils burning red, blood soaking his robes. His expression twisted in disbelief, half-dazed.
Yao Ranran paled. "Ye Daoyou, what's wrong? Did your illness flare up again?"
Pu Yehai's shoulders trembled. His lips had gone white, his cheeks sunken, his body looking like it had been drained of blood. He seemed on the verge of collapse.
"I… I'm fine…" "What in heaven's name was this blood-draining robe?"
Every pore in his body screamed with pain.
No—he could not continue today.
With a flick of his eyes, he rolled them back and collapsed, feigning unconsciousness.
"Ye Daoyou! Ye Daoyou!"
…
Later, as the medics from Biliu Sect departed, Yao Ranran stopped Zhou Shengqian with a troubled expression. "What exactly is wrong with his body?"
Zhou Shengqian stroked his short beard, brow furrowing. "Fairy Ranran, the sickness in his body runs deep. The cultivation method he practices is both strange and obscure. We cannot determine the root, but it doesn't seem life-threatening."
Yao Ranran gazed at Pu Yehai lying weakly inside the disciple quarters, her voice soft with pity. "I heard from Xiang Yin that he was born afflicted, carrying illness from the womb. Even upon stepping onto the cultivation path, he could not shake the disease. No wonder his cultivation art differs so greatly from ours."
Zhou Shengqian shot Pu Yehai a sidelong glance, muttering bitterly under his breath. "Or perhaps this brat cultivated some bizarre art that left him so stricken. Such a young bone age, yet he already holds a Golden Core… a talent like that, without sect or master—most likely the result of some crooked cultivation method."
Yao Ranran noticed the jealousy written all over his face, remembered how Zhou Shengqian had been stuck at late Foundation Establishment for years without breaking through, and sighed inwardly.
Jealousy drives men mad.
At least he hadn't seized the chance to shatter Pu Yehai's Golden Core while he was down. That much could be counted as mercy.
"Then I'll leave Ye Daoyou in Sect Master Zhou's care. I should return."
She bid him farewell.
Zhou Shengqian fussed over her until she departed, then returned to the room. Staring at Pu Yehai's pale, delicate features, his hand twitched, turning into a claw.
"When I was your age, I had only just stepped into Foundation Establishment. What kind of cultivation method did you practice, to form a Golden Core already? Tell me! Tell me!"
His claw hovered near Pu Yehai's face, circling. But recalling Yao Ranran's warning, he dared not scratch that pale, flawless visage. Instead he leaned close, breathing coldly into Pu Yehai's ear.
"Tell me! Tell me!"
"Damn it… young and already this handsome!"
Pu Yehai: "…"
The restless hand hidden by the side of the wooden bed slowly stilled.
…
Five days later, Yao Ranran left the mountain.
Pu Yehai had recovered, still looking frail and sickly—but that was his usual appearance. One glance was enough to stir sympathy in countless women.
All except the iron-hearted Yao Ranran.
Tang Xiangyin happened to see her descend. Just then, Xiao Rong came over with a jade-blue hoe slung on his shoulder. "Xiao Tang, let's loosen the soil on that hill today!"
Tang Xiangyin did not move. "No. Today I want to rest."
Xiao Rong blinked as if he'd heard something absurd. "What did you just say?"
Tang Xiangyin's face was solemn. "Xiao Rong, let me rest for a day. Tomorrow I'll give you a hundred spirit stones as payment."
Xiao Rong's jaw dropped before he scoffed with a loud snort. "Xiao Tang, do you take me for a fool? You don't even have one spirit stone on you!"
"Ah. Xiao Rong was sharper than usual today."
Tang Xiangyin's eyes widened. "How do you know that? Did you search my room?!"
Puffing his cheeks, Xiao Rong whipped out a penalty slip. "You couldn't even pay the Fairy's hundred-stone fine. Do I need to search your room? I, Rong-yé, am not that kind of person!"
Tang Xiangyin snatched the slip, swearing with conviction. "Xiao Rong, after today, whether it's the Fairy's fines or your payment, I'll have it all ready. But I must leave now, or I won't make it in time!"
Xiao Rong tilted his head. "Where are you going in such a rush?"
"To the city. Can't say more!" Tang Xiangyin shot out her grappling claw and vanished without hesitation.