The medical clinic fell into deathly silence, only the occasional crackling of sparks from the burning candle clearly audible.
Yan Jianglan gathered his courage and turned to face Sheng Jiao.
Sheng Jiao said: “Come. Sit.”
He didn’t question or rage. His eyes were lifeless and his tone flat—like the calm before a storm.
Yan Jianglan took a deep breath and walked forward reluctantly, obediently sitting down.
Sheng Jiao: “…”
Sheng Jiao said coldly: “I meant for you to sit in a chair.”
Yan Jianglan, sitting on Sheng Jiao’s lap, blinked his eyes innocently. Seeing that Sheng Jiao didn’t throw him off, he seemed to find a bit of courage to act spoiled.
He threw himself forward with all his courage, skillfully linking both hands around Sheng Jiao’s neck, hanging his slender, thin frame on him. He even affectionately kissed the thin corner of Sheng Jiao’s lips.
“I know I was wrong,” Yan Jianglan said with genuine sincerity, with no artifice whatsoever. “Let me make excuses, Sect Master Sheng. Don’t rush to condemn me yet, okay?”
Sheng Jiao remained motionless, letting him fuss about on his body. He said expressionlessly: “Rang Chen knew all your schemes.”
“That’s because his father told him!” Yan Jianglan hurried to explain. “Besides, his ‘Glimpsing Heaven’s Secrets’ knows everything under heaven. I didn’t reveal anything to him—he guessed it himself.”
Sheng Jiao’s gaze was icy cold, staring straight at Yan Jianglan.
Yan Jianglan hastily gazed back with deep affection.
Sheng Jiao wasn’t falling for this. After a long silence, he suddenly said: “If Lady Wan hadn’t told me, how long were you planning to hide it from me?”
Yan Jianglan froze. Only then did he understand what Sheng Jiao had gone to the medicine sect to do.
He no longer had the heart to continue acting coy or making excuses. He pressed his lips together and stood up from Sheng Jiao, sitting in a nearby chair. He stared at the half-burned candle and spoke softly: “I don’t know how to say it.”
After waking, Yan Jianglan hadn’t gone to find Sheng Jiao immediately. The biggest reason was that he didn’t know what identity to use to face the person who had shared his pillow back then.
These years he’d grown accustomed to doing everything himself. Even with countless promises from Sheng Jiao, he fundamentally didn’t dare to accept them easily.
Yan Hanque had told him not to be afraid.
Yan Jianglan had experienced so much, feeling he didn’t even fear death—so where would his fear come from?
Yet all his fears these years came because of Sheng Jiao.
After slaughtering the Xi family, he feared Sheng Jiao would truly kill him.
Once everything had settled, he feared Sheng Jiao would distance himself because of his experiences and deceptions.
He feared he would never again hear that familiar sound of flowers blooming.
He feared becoming accustomed to warmth and dependence, only to be thrown back one day into that helpless, despairing, cold rainy night.
That fear nearly twisted Yan Jianglan. Even on the way here, he had muddled thoughts, thinking that if he’d known from the start that slaughtering the Xi family would go against Sheng Jiao’s path, he should have endured longer.
Endured until he had the ability to completely hide and cleanse away the sins of slaughter, clean and pure. Only then should he have acted.
“I’m sorry,” Yan Jianglan said quietly. “I was just afraid.”
Sheng Jiao looked at him coldly, extending his hand across the desk toward Yan Jianglan’s face.
Just moments ago in the crowd, Yan Jianglan, so guilt-stricken his mind was muddled, had unconsciously avoided Sheng Jiao’s hand. But now he actively moved forward, rubbing his face against the warm palm of Sheng Jiao’s hand.
Sheng Jiao gently caressed his face, his fingers lightly lifting his chin, letting the candlelight illuminate that face so exquisite it was almost otherworldly.
When this flower-like elegant courtesan’s face bore an expression heavy with suppressed grievance, it could captivate every soul in the world, make anyone willing to throw away their life to protect him completely.
Sheng Jiao said quietly: “When you were at Tianyan Academy, you wanted to use Wen Gubai as a knife, deliberately scheming against him, didn’t you?”
Yan Jianglan hesitated for a moment, nodding with some uncertainty.
Sheng Jiao asked again: “Was it Xi Jue who was the mastermind, possessing your spirit and discussing the plans with Wen Gubai?”
Yan Jianglan didn’t respond.
But the answer was already self-evident.
Everything aligned with the memory illusion on the “Karma’s Course.”
Xi Jue usurped Yan Ling and plotted everything with Wen Gubai. All the karma fell on Yan Jianglan’s body—yet even if Xi Jue was the sole culprit, the heavens and Tianyan wouldn’t bear to kill the “one who bears heaven’s tribulations.”
Sheng Jiao said coldly: “You two really are well-calculating.”
Not only did you plot the slaughter of the Xi family five years later on the coming-of-age ceremony day, but you even calculated precisely that after the matter was exposed, Xi Jue and Wen Gubai would conspire to pin everything on Yan Ling, completely destroying Wen Gubai through their schemes.
Even more terrifying—Xi Jue was only about fifteen at the time, and Yan Ling was merely thirteen.
Yan Jianglan said nothing.
Seeing him seem truly melancholic from this remark, Sheng Jiao hesitated for a long while before adding: “…It was Xi Jue who was well-calculating.”
From the very beginning when Xi Jue negotiated with Wen Gubai, he’d been implanting in Wen Gubai the notion that he despised Yan Ling for usurping his identity. So much so that Wen Gubai believed without doubt these two could never cooperate, taking each step carefully, never suspecting he was being used by them.
Quite the game of chess.
Yan Jianglan, looking unhappy, fidgeted with his fingers playing with the storage ring and bell on them, looking almost on the verge of being cried to by Sheng Jiao.
Sheng Jiao furrowed his brow, gripping his chin firmly, saying coldly: “If you had told me back then…”
His words cut off abruptly.
If Yan Jianglan had revealed everything six years ago, Sheng Jiao perhaps could have done nothing at all.
He was only at Spirit Transformation realm then—he couldn’t even break into the Xiezhi Sect, much less contend with entire Central State families eyeing him covetously. The young Heavenly Dao Lord had no cultivation, no status, only a headful of hot-blooded impulse.
Perhaps the outcome would have been even worse than now.
Seeing Sheng Jiao’s attitude seemed to soften, Yan Jianglan carefully kissed the inside of the wrist holding his chin, smiling ingratiatingly with curved eyes: “Sheng Jiao, I missed you.”
Sheng Jiao nearly wanted to laugh coldly. He withdrew his hand coldly, completely disbelieving the little liar’s sweet words that came off his tongue so easily.
If he’d missed him, he wouldn’t have run just now.
Faster than a rabbit.
Yan Jianglan choked slightly and hurried to explain: “Everything three months ago was Yu Tuishan’s fault. He…I clearly told him that once matters were resolved, I would tell you the truth. It wasn’t deliberate deception.”
Sheng Jiao remained silent.
Yan Jianglan skillfully moved close again, embracing him and burying his face in the crook of his neck, speaking softly: “Sheng Jiao, Sect Master Sheng, Sheng Wuzhou, sir, just show some magnanimity and let me off the hook. Stop being angry, won’t you?”
Sheng Jiao pressed against his forehead, pushing him away.
Yan Jianglan clung on shamelessly: “I was wrong to run just now too. I just got flustered and lost my head in the moment. I have faults and sins. I’m at Sect Master Sheng’s mercy for punishment.”
Sheng Jiao looked at him coldly.
In his entire life Yan Jianglan had never admitted fault. This time he truly opened Sheng Jiao’s eyes as to just how many wrongs he could admit to.
Yan Jianglan spoke several more trivial, inconsequential faults in a self-deprecating manner. Sheng Jiao still didn’t speak a word.
Yan Jianglan looked at him meaningfully, finally unable to maintain his obedience. His smile not reaching his eyes, he ground his teeth: “That’s enough, Sheng Wuzhou. Know when to stop, understand? I even dared to kill the Xi family. Push me too far and I’ll do anything.”
Sheng Jiao’s brow furrowed. Finally he said coldly: “I don’t care that you killed Xi Ze.”
Yan Jianglan froze.
From Lady Wan’s mouth, Sheng Jiao had learned of Yan Jianglan’s suffering and experiences over these years, and understood his hatred and ruthlessness. Yet upon their reunion, Yan Jianglan seemed to fear something between every line—as if the crime of slaughtering the Xi family made him perpetually uncomfortable before Sheng Jiao, uselessly placing a shackle around himself that he couldn’t remove.
When he first saw Sheng Jiao, he’d also turned and fled. As if the act of slaughter had made him always uneasy in Sheng Jiao’s presence.
“I…” Yan Jianglan said quietly. “You don’t think I’m cold-hearted, ruthless and merciless, do you? But…”
But the person Sheng Jiao admired was not someone who schemed deliberately, cruelly and ruthlessly slaughtering others—a sinner. Rather, it was the arrogant, haughty, high-ranking little Immortal Lord.
The little Immortal Lord, pristine and clean, forever the suspected, pitiful innocent victim.
Not like him—scheming, with deep machinations.
Yan Jianglan clearly knew that what Sheng Jiao loved wasn’t his status. Yet long years of suppression made him unconsciously yearn for clean, bright light.
He wanted to hide away all his ugliness and darkness, not letting Sheng Jiao glimpse even half of it.
Just like six years later at their first reunion when Sheng Jiao came to the messy medical clinic. Yan Jianglan’s awkwardness then wasn’t deliberate pretense.
—It was genuine embarrassment and discomfort.
Yan Jianglan was still thinking when Sheng Jiao suddenly and roughly pressed against the back of his head, forcibly drawing him into an embrace, his lips opening coldly.
“Shut up.”
The aloof Sect Master Sheng, his image dramatically falling, told him to “shut up.”
Sheng Jiao’s frame was tall and slender. His two arms wrapped around nearly completely enclosed Yan Jianglan’s thin, delicate small body within his embrace.
Yan Jianglan was at Nascent Soul stage at fifteen. Even if he’d desperately consumed spiritual pills, he was still half a head shorter than Sheng Jiao. Adding to this his weakened, sickly body over these years, when suddenly held like this, he felt an inexplicable panic of being confined in a sealed space. He hastily pushed against Sheng Jiao with effort.
Sheng Jiao’s strong arms didn’t budge an inch. “Let’s settle our score,” he said coldly.
“What score is there left to settle?” Yan Jianglan asked, bewildered. “Haven’t I already apologized to you sincerely?”
Sheng Jiao’s eyes were as still as a deep well. He reached out and removed the ornament from Yan Jianglan’s ear, his voice cold. “Did I say I forgave you?”
The meaning was clear: your apology is one thing, but my anger is another matter entirely.
Yan Jianglan fell silent.
Every hair on his body stood on end. That bone-deep terror he’d felt upon first seeing Sheng Jiao had returned. He wanted to listen to Sheng Jiao’s heartbeat through “Sound of Leisure” to gauge his true mood, but without the ear ornament, the sounds around him became a distant blur.
He couldn’t hear the delicate sound of flowers blooming at all.
“Wait,” Yan Jianglan said, reaching out. “Give me back my ornament first.”
He needed to know if Sheng Jiao was truly angry or just playing with him—and whether he planned to actually punish him right here.
Sheng Jiao seemed to understand what “Sound of Leisure” did. He casually tossed the ornament into the backyard pond and pressed his large hand against the back of Yan Jianglan’s neck. “Don’t listen to me.”
Yan Jianglan withdrew his gaze nervously and tried to read Sheng Jiao’s expression instead.
A moment passed. Then Yan Jianglan suddenly jumped up and bolted.
His mind had been so focused on crafting apologies that he’d grown accustomed to the constant crackling sound of scorched earth from Sheng Jiao’s presence. He’d even let his guard down without realizing it. He’d apologized until his throat was dry, coaxed and cajoled—and nothing had worked.
Sheng Wuzhou was definitely still furious.
The rage hidden in Sect Master Sheng’s eyes was almost enough to blow the roof off. Yet his face remained perfectly composed, as if he’d already forgiven everything.
Yan Jianglan ran at full speed, his hair flying. But this time, Sheng Jiao didn’t let him escape. The binding ribbon that had been drifting around him suddenly became a taut line and shot forward like an arrow, wrapping around Yan Jianglan in a flash.
Yan Jianglan’s pupils contracted. He immediately summoned the Spring Rain Sword and slashed twice, severing the bond.
Sheng Jiao rose to his feet coldly.
“Stop,” Yan Jianglan called out, his back against the carved wooden door, his eyes darting with caution. “I’ve told you everything—the reasons, the circumstances, all of it. You uphold justice, Sect Master. Shouldn’t you at least examine the evidence before passing sentence, even for a criminal?”
“I can resign from being Sect Master of the Xiezhi Sect,” Sheng Jiao said flatly.
Yan Jianglan blinked. “What?”
He was willing to give up his position just to settle things with him?
“Heavenly Dao Lord, do you hear yourself?” Yan Jianglan’s voice shook.
But Sheng Jiao wasn’t listening. His eyes unwavering, he sent the binding ribbon whooshing toward Yan Jianglan again.
Yan Jianglan didn’t surrender. The Spring Rain Sword’s power erupted, forming a protective barrier around him. But Sheng Jiao was at Great Ascension realm. Yan Jianglan, barely recovered to Spirit Transformation, was no match. After just a few exchanges, his defenses shattered.
The binding ribbon wrapped around his drained body, binding him completely.
Yan Jianglan’s shoulders sagged. “Sheng Wuzhou, I was wrong. What do you want from me? Tell me and I’ll do it.”
Without a word, Sheng Jiao scooped him into his arms. His tall frame cast a shadow over Yan Jianglan like a net, trapping him completely.
Yan Jianglan shuddered. “Wait! I want to use my favor!”
Sheng Jiao looked down at him coldly.
“You promised me a favor when I told you about the Twelve Xiangwen,” Yan Jianglan said quickly, as if he’d found a lifeline. “I’m calling it in now!”
Sheng Jiao didn’t deny his debt. “What do you want?”
“For you to stop being angry and not punish me,” Yan Jianglan said without hesitation.
Remembering Sheng Jiao’s earlier warning—*you wouldn’t want to know*—Yan Jianglan was certain Sheng Jiao wouldn’t go easy on him. Using this favor now seemed like his only protection.
Sheng Jiao actually agreed. “Fine.”
Yan Jianglan was shocked. That was it? No protest? He’d expected Sheng Jiao to play games like he had before.
But as Yan Jianglan began to relax, he realized Sheng Jiao was still moving. Although he’d said “fine,” his actions hadn’t stopped. He carried Yan Jianglan into the backyard residence.
The main clinic was shabby, but the living quarters were surprisingly elegant and luxurious. Beaded curtains hung before an inner room where a large bed sat, its air filled with the gentle scent of tranquility incense—sweet and profound.
Over six years, Yan Jianglan clearly hadn’t suffered. He’d lived well, not like others might have imagined—sleeping rough, eating poorly.
The room had been empty for three months but remained immaculate.
Yan Jianglan shivered.
They’d been intimate before, so neither of them was shy about dual cultivation. But when Yan Jianglan remembered that night three months ago when he’d “seduced” the Heavenly Dao Lord to help him enter “Yellow Millet Dream,” his body went weak just thinking about it.
He’d barely been able to leave the bed that night, let alone escape.
“Sheng Wuzhou,” Yan Jianglan said hesitantly, “didn’t you just say you’re not angry?”
“I’m not,” Sheng Jiao replied, laying him on the bed.
Yan Jianglan didn’t believe him. He struggled slightly. “Then remove the bond.”
Sheng Jiao nodded and actually did as asked, pulling the binding ribbon away and rewrapping it around his wrist.
Yan Jianglan became even more suspicious.
After all these years with Sheng Jiao, he could read that calm face perfectly. That anger was definitely still there, simmering beneath the surface. Sheng Jiao wouldn’t be this cooperative unless he was planning something.
“When matters arise abnormally, demons must be involved.”
But Sheng Jiao placed him on the bed and actually sat cross-legged at the bed’s edge, closing his eyes to meditate.
He wasn’t planning to pursue or punish him?
Yan Jianlan blinked in astonishment.
Sheng Jiao closed his eyes and regulated his inner mansion’s spiritual energy. The bed curtains lowered, transforming the small bed into an enclosed space so quiet that breathing and heartbeats could be heard.
Yan Jianlan wasn’t accustomed to thunder that brought only small drops of rain. He timidly crawled before Sheng Jiao and whispered, “Sheng Wuzhuo.”
Sheng Jiao didn’t open his eyes, speaking softly: “Hmm?”
“From now on I won’t deceive you anymore—I’ll speak only truth,” Yan Jianlan said earnestly. “So I’m taking the initiative to confess something to Heavenly Dao’s lord.”
Sheng Jiao remained still: “Speak.”
Yan Jianlan cleared his throat and actually spoke the truth: “Yu Tuishan plans to destroy the Tianyan earth veins across all Thirteen States. I won’t join him in destroying Tianyan, but if you clash with him, I’ll choose to help him.”
Sheng Jiao finally opened his eyes, regarding him with frost-cold gaze.
Yan Jianlan spoke bone-chilling words in a coaxing, gentle tone: “I resent Tianyan. Though the Xi family is the source of my suffering, the ultimate culprit is still Tianyan. I must destroy it, otherwise I’ll never find peace in this life.”
Without Tianyan spiritual power, he wouldn’t have awakened “Sound of Leisure,” nor would the Xi family have slaughtered his parents, condemning him to over a decade of living death.
Yan Jianlan lay on his knees, his gorgeous, alluring face gazing directly at him, the crimson mark at his eye’s tail like blood mist threatening to bloom, tinting his delicate eyelids an enticing pale red.
“I’m sorry. I was wrong.”
Tianyan was Heaven’s gift. Sheng Jiao, as Xiezhi Sect Master and the Heavenly Dao’s favored son, could never allow Yu Tuishan to destroy the Tianyan veins, no matter how lenient he tried to be.
The Tianyan veins stretched across the Southern Territory, Central State, and Northern Territory. Once destroyed, it would cause earthquakes and heaven-splitting-earth-shattering devastation throughout the Thirteen States, just as when Xi Jue’s Tianyan leaked back then.
Countless innocent lives would perish.
Yu Tuishan was utterly without restraint, wanting only to destroy Tianyan. As long as he and Yan Jianlan survived, whether others lived or died was beyond his consideration.
Though Yan Jianlan wouldn’t fan the flames, he also wouldn’t let Sheng Jiao obstruct Yu Tuishan.
He knew this behavior was wrong, but his knowledge remained confined to recognizing the error—he wouldn’t actually change.
Sheng Jiao extended his hand, roughly stroking Yan Jianlan’s lips: “If our paths diverge so, why did you wish to join households with me?”
He suspected that Yan Jianlan had already conceived of destroying Tianyan years ago when colluding with Xi Jue to murder the Xi family. Surely after the Xi family’s slaughter, Yu Tuishan had begun acting on destroying the Tianyan veins.
Knowing full well they’d stand in opposition, Yan Jianlan had still agreed that once the Xi family matter was resolved, he’d join households with Sheng Jiao.
Truly painting cakes in the air.
Yan Jianlan laughed: “But we love each other, don’t we?”
Sheng Jiao frowned, not understanding Yan Jianlan’s logic.
Yan Jianlan’s hand drew circles on Sheng Jiao’s knee, speaking carelessly: “We can clash like blades and swords by day without preventing us from merging like water and milk and indulging in excess by night—these are two separate matters.”
Sheng Jiao: “…………”
How did he manage to strike Sheng Jiao’s anger point with every sentence?
Seeing Yan Jianlan’s face still full of smiling mischief, appearing to find this proposal flawlessly perfect, Sheng Jiao’s anger, which had already subsided, ignited like a water droplet falling into scalding still oil, instantly unleashing howling winds and massive waves.
Yan Jianlan was still pondering how to apologize more sincerely when a dark shadow forcefully pressed down upon him, violently pinning him to the rumpled, soft bed.
Sheng Jiao held him down with a grave face, his coldly beautiful visage looming overhead, his eyes burning with barely restrained fury.
Yan Jianlan stiffened, stammering: “W-what’s wrong? I-I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
Regardless of what exactly was wrong, he’d first adopt the attitude of admitting fault.
Sheng Jiao couldn’t convince Yan Jianlan to stop destroying Tianyan, nor could he yield and allow Yu Tuishan to harm countless lives.
He hadn’t anticipated that with the Xi family matter settled, he’d still face such an impossible dilemma with Yan Jianlan.
Yan Jianlan was too thin—Sheng Jiao’s broad palm alone could pin both his wrists against the soft pillows at his head. The pressure and confinement made Yan Jianlan’s brow furrow tightly, struggling instinctively.
Yan Jianlan swallowed and said timidly: “Sheng Wuzhuo……”
Sheng Jiao covered Yan Jianlan’s mouth with his other hand, a faint blue lightning pattern flickering in his eyes as spiritual energy flooded into Yan Jianlan’s meridians—warm power accompanied by numbing tingles that left his entire body instantly limp.
Sheng Jiao leaned down, speaking coldly: “Call out later.”
Yan Jianlan: “……”
Call out what later?
Sheng Wuzhuo?
In that instant, three months of lies suddenly flashed through Yan Jianlan’s mind—words he’d spoken while deceiving:
“……The sect master is wise and mighty with cultivation towering to heaven, naturally possessed of boundless vitality and insatiable appetite!”
“He’d surely be driven by love into hate—ravishing and plundering, dragging me to bed, forcibly taking me.”
Yan Jianlan thought.
It’s over.
***
T/N; thank you all for waiting T_T
(advanced chapters available on kofi)
wannaberecluse On SRTT Chapter 50.1