It was as if the moment shattered a spell.
God Nine Transformations froze instantly, switching into alert mode.
Gu Baiqing finally caught his breath. “Who’s there?”
But as soon as he spoke, he realized his disciple was standing stiffly beside the rock, still gripping his ankle.
Gu Baiqing frowned and moved his foot slightly.
Mo Xuanli blinked hard, then hurriedly released him, his expression dark as he slapped God Nine Transformations once in frustration.
Gu Baiqing, recalling what had just happened, felt utterly humiliated. His dignified image as a master had been thoroughly ruined by God Nine Transformations.
Forget it—God Nine Transformations was too sentient to control, still childlike in temperament. He couldn’t be angry over that. And Mo Xuanli probably had only wanted to pull God Nine Transformations away, which explained the awkward position they’d ended up in.
What was truly unforgivable was Three Bean—his own spirit beast—who hadn’t even bothered to help.
Gu Baiqing cast Three Bean a glance, only to see the cat staring blankly out at the sea. Somehow, it didn’t look scared of the waves—it looked like it wanted to jump in and catch fish.
While Gu Baiqing was watching Three Bean, Mo Xuanli had already lowered his head, face calm and tight, quickly wiping Gu Baiqing’s feet dry and putting his shoes back on.
By the time Gu Baiqing realized what was happening, Mo Xuanli had already finished and was walking toward the source of the voice.
He hadn’t said a single word the whole time, his mood unreadable. Was he… unhappy? Maybe he’d been embarrassed to see his master in such a compromising position?
Meanwhile, Mo Xuanli forced himself to keep walking a few paces, trying to cool the heat still coursing through him.
Remembering his momentary loss of control—and the red marks he’d left on his master’s ankle—made his heart jolt with fear. What had he been about to do?
He had wanted to follow that impulse—to push his master down, tear his clothes apart, right there by the sea, and ruthlessly… until he saw tears streaming from those eyes.
That was impossible. Yes, he harbored those forbidden thoughts toward his master—but he would never do something so violent.
It had felt as if… the demonic energy in his body had suddenly gone out of control.
In that instant, he’d truly believed he could do such a thing—his master, powerless, would only be able to let him have his way.
It was as though some part of him already recognized that as something familiar, something natural.
But how could that be?
Could it be that when he absorbed the spiritual energy from the Gathering Array last time, it really damaged his body? Could something have gone wrong with his seal?
Worried, Mo Xuanli touched his dantian. Then he caught sight of someone lying in the grass ahead.
“Xuanli?” Gu Baiqing called out, seeing that he’d stopped. He must have spotted the source of the voice.
Mo Xuanli said, “Master, come over. It’s… a young man attacked by a beast.”
Gu Baiqing froze for a second, a thought flashing through his mind. He almost rushed forward, coming to Mo Xuanli’s side and staring wide-eyed at the figure on the ground.
It was a boy of fifteen or sixteen—clear, pure, features so beautiful and delicate that there was not a single flaw to be found, like a porcelain doll.
His large eyes looked up at them timidly, glimmering with moisture as if tears could spill at any moment.
A simple white robe wrapped his frail body, soft and gentle as a frightened little rabbit—he looked like he’d jump at the faintest noise.
He was the very image of a pitiful youth who’d accidentally wandered into danger.
So while Mo Xuanli’s first instinct was suspicion and he didn’t reach out a hand to help, Gu Baiqing swept his gaze up and down the boy.
That burning scrutiny made the youth tremble all over, shrinking with guilt, and Mo Xuanli noticed the strange look in his master’s eyes.
Instantly, discomfort prickled in his chest. Yes, the boy was beautiful—but his master had seen countless beauties. Was there really any need to stare like that?
He was right here, after all.
Mo Xuanli’s tone turned sharp. “Who are you? Why are you here? Are you alone?”
The boy wasn’t a demon in disguise—that much was certain—but something about his aura still felt… off.
“I… I’m a wandering cultivator. I got separated from my companions… was attacked, my leg’s injured, I can’t walk. Kind sirs, could you please take me to Longan Port?”
The boy’s voice was soft and melodious, a little hesitant, yet inexplicably endearing.
“I’ll repay you—here, take this.” The youth, guileless and direct, opened his hands to reveal a handful of luminous pearls of varying colors. Then he smiled, awkward but earnestly trying to please.
Mo Xuanli’s expression grew complicated. It was impossible to feel hostility toward someone like this—but still, he couldn’t shake his doubts.
Looking down, he saw the blood seeping through the boy’s shoe; the injury seemed real enough, and he clearly couldn’t walk.
He didn’t even know how to fly on a sword—definitely a weak, low-level rogue cultivator.
This wasn’t “adventuring with companions.” This was practically coming here to die.
Mo Xuanli turned to ask his master what to do—only to see Gu Baiqing step forward, bend down, and scoop the boy up into his arms.
Mo Xuanli’s eyes widened instantly, his entire breath faltering.
“Ma… Master?”
The young boy leaned nervously against Gu Baiqing’s chest. “You can just… carry me on your back.”
Gu Baiqing, however, lowered his gaze and let out a cold laugh. “You’re really beautiful.”
The boy’s face went pale. Terrifying rumors flashed through his mind, and he began trembling uncontrollably.
But behind them, Mo Xuanli’s expression had gone completely dark.
His master… was complimenting a young boy’s looks?
Wait—Mo Xuanli’s sharp mind spun quickly, then suddenly froze all over.
His master had once said that he was good-looking when he was sixteen… so could that mean…? It had only been two years, and he had changed a lot since then—did his master…?
No, impossible. Master would never treat emotions so frivolously.
But clearly, his master had once treated him better—more affectionately, even secretly intimate, sometimes acting or thinking in ways that were wholly inappropriate for his status. And in Linxun Town, when his master had faced his childlike consciousness, he’d apparently been even more indulgent.
Yet lately, Master had been nothing but proper—perfectly master-like.
Something wasn’t right. Could it be… his master really preferred youthful boys?
Was that… his master’s type?
Mo Xuanli’s heart was pounding wildly, his thoughts spiraling into one dead end after another, lightning flashing through his mind.
Then he heard his master’s next words—directed at that beautiful boy: “How about staying with me?”
Mo Xuanli’s heart lurched. His face darkened so much it was nearly black, and he rushed forward, striding anxiously toward them.
“You—what are you doing?” The boy was frightened too, glancing around in panic. Seeing someone charging over behind them, his first instinct was to cry for help—but when he saw the man’s expression, he froze. That look—it made him feel like prey laid out on the chopping block. Terror flooded his eyes.
Gu Baiqing gave a soft, eerie chuckle. “Either stay with me… or I’ll sell you off. You look quite valuable. Oh, and I’d like more pearls from you too—or maybe I’ll refine perfume from your essence. In the end, killing you for your flesh and oil might fetch a fine price as well.”
The boy’s face went bloodless. The man before him looked like an immortal—yet his words were pure devilry. Instinct took over; he struggled violently. “Let me go! Let me go!”
But even without using spiritual power, Gu Baiqing easily restrained the fragile youth.
Mo Xuanli halted mid-step, realization dawning—his master must be acting. So that was it… the boy must have something suspicious about him. His tensed heart finally loosened a little.
“Please… let me go, I beg you…” The boy’s voice broke, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes—yet what rolled down seemed to glimmer faintly, slowly taking shape.
By now, Gu Baiqing had carried the boy all the way to the cliff’s edge, where waves crashed violently against the rocks below.
Looking down at the boy, Gu Baiqing said coolly, “Has no one ever taught you? Going out on your own, you might run into people like us. You’re this weak, yet you still dared to wander? The stench of blood on you can’t even be hidden. You’re really not afraid of dying. Too late for regrets now.”
The boy stared back at him in fear and fury, gritting his teeth, ready to fight to the death rather than let this man have his way.
Then—suddenly—the ground dropped out beneath him. His eyes went wide in shock as Gu Baiqing’s figure receded rapidly from view.
“Off you go.”
Gu Baiqing, acting on a hunch, hadn’t expected it to actually work—but it did.
Mo Xuanli, standing behind, was utterly dumbfounded. His master had just thrown the boy straight into the sea, adding lightning force to the toss—enough to hurl him almost to the center of the ocean.
“Master, you—”
Gu Baiqing clapped his hands lightly. A small white pearl rolled out from his sleeve—it was the same one that had fallen from the boy’s eye moments ago.
“What? Didn’t you notice? He was a merfolk.”
Not only a merfolk, but a rather important one at that. Because they’d arrived earlier than expected, they’d run right into him. To steer the story in a safer direction, Gu Baiqing hadn’t minded giving this arrogant young merfolk a good scare—so he’d learn not to wander recklessly.
Still, he wasn’t sure how much this interference might alter the future.
He’d half-expected the Heavenly Dao to intervene—but surprisingly, it hadn’t. That gave him hope that maybe, just maybe, he could change even more things, as long as Heaven didn’t stop him.
“Merfolk?” Mo Xuanli finally processed it—that explained the strange aura. He’d never seen a merfolk before, and his cultivation wasn’t as high as his master’s, so it was normal he hadn’t recognized it. But now he knew.
“I thought he was just an ordinary human before. I’ll remember it now—anyone with that kind of aura must be a merfolk.”
Gu Baiqing nodded. “The ones you can sense are usually of average cultivation. The truly powerful ones who dare come ashore—I might not even detect them myself. Just be cautious. Some of their traits can’t be hidden. They say merfolk are beautiful, have lovely voices, and their tears turn to pearls. Today you got to see it firsthand.”
Although Mo Xuanli knew what had happened was justifiable, something still twinged in his chest at those words. Certain thoughts began surfacing again—ones he couldn’t push down.
“Beautiful, was he?”
“You don’t think so?”
“…Average,” Mo Xuanli muttered.
Gu Baiqing looked at him in mild surprise. Was his disciple’s sense of aesthetics broken? But then again, considering how handsome Mo Xuanli himself was, it made sense he’d look down on others. He wondered idly if that young merfolk had been considered the most beautiful of his kind. If so, then his own disciple was still more striking.
When Gu Baiqing said nothing, Mo Xuanli couldn’t help adding, “He hasn’t grown into his looks yet. Maybe he’ll be better once he matures.”
Gu Baiqing had only been curious about the merfolk’s appearance—he wasn’t particularly obsessed with physical beauty. Losing interest in the topic, he changed the subject.
But seeing his master’s complete indifference only made Mo Xuanli’s chest feel tighter, suffocating with unspoken frustration.
Especially since just now, his master had carried someone else— and even when he had been the one climbing the cliff, his master hadn’t held him like that.
Mo Xuanli felt a pang of sourness in his chest and instinctively took a step back—only to realize his heel had landed on empty air. It was then he became aware that, in chasing after his master, he had ended up right at the edge of a cliff.
Perhaps his courage had grown over the past two years, or perhaps all those journeys together had made him increasingly “reckless.”
Suddenly, Mo Xuanli’s foot slipped, and he fell backward.
“Master—!”
Gu Baiqing had just turned to leave when he heard his disciple call out. Looking back, he saw Mo Xuanli in a posture that clearly meant he was about to fall off the cliff. His heart stopped—he forgot for a moment that this was the cultivation world—and rushed forward purely by instinct, reaching out to grab him.
Gu Baiqing yanked hard, and Mo Xuanli did come up—but straight into him, crashing forward as if unable to stop himself.
Before Gu Baiqing could react, Mo Xuanli had slammed into him, sending them both into a nearby tree.
Mo Xuanli’s tall, solid frame hit him squarely, and Gu Baiqing let out a muffled grunt.
Fallen leaves fluttered around them; in the chaos, Gu Baiqing suddenly felt something soft brush past his ear to his neck, making him flinch in an unbearable ticklish sensation.
When the tree finally stopped trembling, the two of them steadied themselves.
Only then did Gu Baiqing realize that Mo Xuanli was holding him tightly—one hand cradling the back of his head, the other encircling his waist.
Gu Baiqing’s heart gave a jolt. Just as he was about to feel something was off about their position, Mo Xuanli released him first—so that the suspicious feeling never had the chance to take root.
“Sorry, Master—did I hurt you?”
“What’s wrong with you?” Gu Baiqing frowned at Mo Xuanli’s flustered expression as he stepped back.
“I suddenly felt… a bit unwell. My strength gave out for a moment.”
The awkwardness on Mo Xuanli’s face wasn’t feigned—it was real. It was his first time doing something like that; how could he not feel guilty?
But he didn’t regret it. Because just now, he had held his master, kissed his master, breathed in that faint plum-blossom scent—and in that instant, all the turmoil in his heart had quieted. The world suddenly seemed brighter, all his gloom dispelled.
But before his words even faded, Gu Baiqing had already stepped forward, grabbing his wrist and using his spiritual sense to check his condition.
Mo Xuanli froze, watching as his master’s brows knitted together.
“Is this some lingering side effect from when you absorbed the Spirit-Gathering Formation? Where else do you feel unwell? Don’t keep it to yourself—tell me.”
Seeing his master’s serious and worried expression, Mo Xuanli instantly regretted it. Guilt washed over him completely.
Still too pure at heart, he stammered, “Master, I’m sorry, I—”
“What are you apologizing for? It’s your own body.” Gu Baiqing frowned. “You know medicine—can’t you diagnose yourself? We’ll skip the barrier work today and head to Longan Port to find a medical cultivator.”
Mo Xuanli hurriedly grabbed his sleeve. “Master, it’s really nothing serious. I’m just a bit tired, that’s all. I know my own body. Really… I’m sorry, Master, for worrying you. I’m sorry…”
He truly regretted it. He would never dare deceive his master like this again.
His master was so worried about him—what had he been thinking, letting those wild thoughts take over? He was unworthy of his master’s kindness.
“Really just tired?” Gu Baiqing asked, still doubtful.
“Of course it’s just exhaustion,” came Three Bean’s sudden voice. “You forgot? You sat comfortably in the carriage while Xuanli drove all night. When you arrived, you rested a few hours, but Xuanli was busy preparing lunch. He said he wanted your first meal here to be perfect. Those seafood dishes didn’t just appear out of nowhere—he went to buy them from the fishermen himself! He barely slept!”
Gu Baiqing turned to Mo Xuanli in surprise. Though he knew his disciple often put effort into meals, he hadn’t expected this—all just to indulge a small preference of his. For a moment, Gu Baiqing felt as if he were being carefully cherished, and it made him both uncomfortable and strangely moved.
Mo Xuanli really did treat him, his master, with sincerity—with genuine care.
Mo Xuanli was at a loss for words. “It’s nothing… really. I’m just not used to the sudden rise in cultivation level, that’s all. I feel fine now, Master. Let’s go set up the barrier.”
He had no idea what other excuse to make. Truly—impulse was the devil.
Gu Baiqing thought for a moment, then said, “Rest first. It’s just the right hour for a nap. If you still feel off this afternoon, we’ll go to Longan Port.”
“Master…” Mo Xuanli began anxiously.
But Gu Baiqing ignored him—his disciple had always had the bad habit of pushing himself too hard.
Gu Baiqing infused a bit of spiritual energy into Three Bean. “Transform—lie down.”
Three Bean, baffled but obedient, reverted to its true form—a large, soft creature, its fur gleaming warmly under the sunlight, making the perfect cushion.
Under the shade of a tree, Gu Baiqing chose a spot with the best ocean view, leaned back against Three Bean, and looked the picture of leisurely refusal to work.
When Mo Xuanli just stood there frozen, Gu Baiqing patted the creature’s plush fur. “What are you standing there for? Come here.”
Mo Xuanli had no choice but to lie down beside him, resting against Three Bean.
As soon as he did, a black outer robe was draped over him, the faint plum fragrance wrapping around him, blocking out the light.
“Sleep well. I’ll keep watch,” came his master’s voice from outside.
That instant sense of safety actually made Mo Xuanli feel drowsy.
It was indeed a lazy afternoon perfect for a nap.
Three Bean, mildly dissatisfied, still flicked its tail and muttered, “I just smelled a merfolk’s scent—such a strong one, too. How’d one dare come ashore?”
Gu Baiqing didn’t even open his eyes. “You’ve seen a merfolk before?”
“Cough, cough—smells like seafood.”
“…You’re not thinking of eating it, are you?”
“Of course not!”
“Shh—don’t make noise. It’s nap time.”
Mo Xuanli, drowsy and unfocused, closed his eyes. The salty sea breeze brushed past; the rhythmic crashing of waves echoed faintly. He didn’t know how long he’d slept before waking again, his body hot and restless.
The moment he realized what was happening, embarrassment rushed up to his ears. Perhaps it was because of what had happened earlier—but right now, his body was…
Flustered, Mo Xuanli tried to calm himself down. He furtively lifted part of his robe to glance outside. His master and Three Bean were both fast asleep, peaceful and content, as if the entire world had gone still—except for him.
Mo Xuanli froze for a moment, blankly staring at his master’s sleeping face.
At some point, Gu Baiqing had turned to his side, breathing evenly in sleep. Because of the position, his collar was slightly loose, and without the outer robe, only the fitted black garment remained, tracing the elegant lines of his waist.
Mo Xuanli’s gaze clung to him—from his faintly flushed cheeks, to his naturally parted red lips, to the pale curve of his neck, the glimpse of collarbone revealed by the fabric shift, and finally, that slender waist that made Mo Xuanli’s throat tighten.
He didn’t know how long he looked—until, all of a sudden, a shock ran through him. The unfamiliar sensation in his hand made his expression change drastically.
He realized, in horror, that he was doing something shameful beneath the robe that still carried his master’s scent—something unthinkable while facing him. Terrified, he yanked the robe up and covered himself completely.
He didn’t even need to look to know how humiliating this was.
To be doing such a disgraceful thing—in broad daylight, in the open woods, before his unaware master—it was… utterly shameful.
He deserved to have his hand chopped off.
But… but right now… he really couldn’t stop.
With a tormented expression, Mo Xuanli gritted his teeth, trying to finish quickly before his master woke.
But under the bright sunlight, even hidden beneath the black robe, he could still see faint outlines.
Because of the earlier movement, the robe had shifted slightly—at some point, one of Gu Baiqing’s hands had ended up beneath it.
Mo Xuanli’s gaze fell there—his master’s pale, slender hand lay quietly on the ground, the fingers naturally curved upward, as though ready to hold something if one placed it there.
Right now, Mo Xuanli’s hand was only a pearl’s distance away from that delicate wrist.
His Adam’s apple bobbed; his eyes burned red from restraint, but he dared not cross the line of disrespect.
He could only inhale the cold plum fragrance again and again, his eyes fixed on that unaware, fair hand—the soft palm, the faintly flushed fingertips—until, suddenly, a few specks of his release fell upon those clean fingers, the red tint staining white.
Mo Xuanli’s pupils contracted sharply. He couldn’t calm himself for a long time.
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