Chapter 10#

Chapter 10: Time#

Feng Xianyu still didn’t understand what A Yue meant by “time’s up.”

In a flash, something flickered before his eyes—so fast he couldn’t catch it. Before he could think it through, A Yue pressed a gray-white short flute to her lips.

Feng Xianyu’s internal alarm bells clanged. He shot an arrow in an instant.

But A Yue had already blown the first piercing note. The flute glowed faintly. Suddenly, a hand grabbed Feng Xianyu’s wrist, and the spirit arrow he’d loosed froze midair, stopping less than a fist’s width from A Yue’s pupil.

Not just the spirit arrow—everything, living and dead, halted: Zhuo Yu’s hand clutching his wrist, the disciples frozen in awkward poses, the hems of their robes suspended unnaturally. Even the light solidified as if painted by brushstrokes, ready to smear away at a touch.

It was as if… time had suddenly stopped.

What kind of artifact was that?

Could such a ferocious artifact capable of reversing time really exist in this world?

A Yue blew a second screeching note. Then the world spun, and time warped.

Everything seemed to press rewind: the scattered furniture flew up on its own, creaking back into place; Zhuo Yu’s hand was forcibly pried from Feng Xianyu’s… They were all dragged by an invisible force, pulled out of the cave, then back through the fog of resentment and the scattered bones. The white gauze that had fallen returned to cover Zhuo Yu’s eyes, clean and proper.

The sun set in the east and rose in the west; day and night spun wildly.

The explosion array vanished, the pool of blood receded, the blasted earth mended itself, piling back into a slightly raised mound. The group retreated along the path they’d come, past the resting area, without stopping, all the way back to the small hut where they had started.

Another screech seemed to sound from the void.

The rewind ended. Time began to flow again.

It was just at the moment when the east grew pale, the sun rising. They stood exactly at the doorway, ready to set out.

And A Yue stood not far away, as before, surrounded and protected by the disciples.

The others remained frozen like statues until someone let out a scream that shattered the stalemate.

Instantly, everyone jumped away from A Yue like cats whose tails had been stepped on. Fear washed over them a beat late. They summoned their artifacts, facing A Yue as if confronting a great demon—because in their eyes, she was no longer a mortal in need of help but a demon lord of unknown power.

A Yue paid these insignificant little cultivators no mind. Instead, she took a step closer to Feng Xianyu. The terrifying flute appeared in her hand; she tossed it up casually and caught it. Smiling faintly, she said to Feng Xianyu, “Young Master Feng, don’t bother trying to escape. Instead, help me think of a way to revive my Yan Lang.”

The silence around them was dead.

Xiang Wan was drenched in cold sweat. He hadn’t fully processed what he’d just witnessed. Hearing A Yue’s words, his scalp tightened, and he watched Feng Xianyu nervously.

Feng Xianyu gripped his bow in hand. The newborn dawn light fell on his hair and robe hem, outlining a jade-like luster. When he smiled, his eyes curved like spring breezes, so pleasing that anyone who saw him would take an instant liking to him.

A Yue paused, then said, “You look just like my Yan Lang.”

“Nonsense!” Immediately someone piped up, stiff-necked and defiant. “Our Little Senior Brother’s appearance is famous throughout the world. Men, women, old, young—everyone who sees him falls hopelessly in love. How could such a divine figure compare to Yan Pei, a mere mortal?!”

Feng Xianyu’s maintained smile cracked at the corner.

Too exaggerated, little brother! Your senior brother has been clean and spotless in both past and present lives—not a single romantic entanglement!

A Yue curled her lips, intrigued. “Is that so?”

That disciple, fearless, was just getting into his stride. Spurred by A Yue, he took a deep breath, completely oblivious that the big senior brother had just walked out of the hut. Hot-headed, he continued, “Our Little Senior Brother! When he was only three, an elder from the Misty Palace came to propose a childhood betrothal. At fifteen, an elder from the Profound Mechanism Mountain sought marriage for their disciple. Within two years, a little monk from the Crouching Tiger Temple saw our little senior brother and immediately wanted to leave the monastic life. Then there’s the Pure Brightness Sect, the Upper Yang Sect… Not to mention others, but the young master of the Azure Sparrow Sect, who commands respect wherever he goes—when he comes here, he still chases after our little senior brother’s tail every day!”

What?

Feng Xianyu listened dumbfounded. He had no memory of any of this. Seeing the disciple rambling without stopping, Feng Xianyu’s head was about to split. He waved his hand angrily and shouted, “Stop!! None of that ever happened! Why are you defaming your senior brother out here? And besides—Kong Yan is my brother! My brother, understand? If he gets married, I’ll be the one causing trouble in the bridal chamber!”

—Causing trouble in the bridal chamber?

As Feng Xianyu spoke, he inevitably recalled his past life, that wedding night when Kong Yan pounded on the door and embarrassed him. He had to smile apologetically at Zhuo Yu while opening the door and kicking Kong Yan flying.

The disciple refused to give up, wanting to say “It really happened,” when his peripheral vision caught sight of Zhuo Yu standing at the door.

The big senior brother was silent. Half his body was hidden in the shadow of the house, his expression unreadable. His whole demeanor was one of extreme restraint, his breathing light as a floating feather. He stood just behind Feng Xianyu, letting his shadow envelop the younger man. The fingers he exposed had prominent knuckles, held in an odd posture.

The disciple shuddered suddenly. He felt as if something had grabbed his throat, making it hard to breathe. He could almost see, through the white gauze, Zhuo Yu’s gaze—a heavy, bloody gaze.

Not at all like the Zhuo Yu he remembered.

More terrifying than this demoness named A Yue.

Feng Xianyu felt a chill on the back of his neck. Instinctively, he turned his head—it was indeed Zhuo Yu.

Zhuo Yu’s robe hem fluttered, revealing a corner of an object whose golden sand was still flowing backward.

—An hourglass?

Feng Xianyu immediately forgot the earlier chill. Startled, he wondered—had Zhuo Yu seen that time was wrong from the very beginning?

Zhuo Yu transmitted his voice directly into Feng Xianyu’s mind, explaining, “The time was off when we entered.”

Feng Xianyu suddenly realized. Having been reborn, he didn’t really remember what it had been like when they came in.

“Since Master Zhuo has come out, you two brothers can discuss it freely,” A Yue said magnanimously. Then her eyes narrowed slightly, her tone turning heavy. “But I’ll say this—if you can’t revive my Yan Lang, none of you are leaving.”

Xiang Wan couldn’t help blurting out, “Then what’s there to discuss?!”

Feng Xianyu said, “Senior, I’m curious—why do you think we can revive Young Master Yan? We’re not exactly top-tier cultivators. Shouldn’t you go to the great experts? The sect leaders and masters, for instance? Unless… you can’t beat them?”

“Don’t try to provoke me.” A Yue’s gaze swept over Feng Xianyu and Zhuo Yu inch by inch, smiling cryptically. “I just know, that’s all.”

Feng Xianyu was out of options. He tried negotiating again. “If you want us to help, Senior, at least have a look at my senior brother’s eyes first. How can he treat anyone while in constant pain?”

Since they were in her illusion and these people couldn’t possibly defeat her, A Yue didn’t care about Zhuo Yu’s eyes. She casually tossed a pill to Feng Xianyu. Delighted, Feng Xianyu was about to feed it to Zhuo Yu when A Yue said, “It’s not to be eaten.”

Feng Xianyu: “Huh???”

“Ever heard of what to do when sand gets in your eye?” A Yue said very quietly, so that only the three of them could hear.

Feng Xianyu looked at Zhuo Yu, then at the pill in his hand, immediately developing an unpleasant association.

…No way! It can’t be!

But A Yue curled her lips, enjoying the drama. “You guessed right.”

Feng Xianyu: “…………”

“Aren’t you two brothers close?” A Yue sat down casually on a rock, tilted her head, and propped her chin on her hand. “Put the medicine in your mouth and do it. Guaranteed cure.”

Feng Xianyu: “…………”

Zhuo Yu’s face was right in front of him—high brow bone, straight nose, thin, cold lips. Though they hadn’t been close for long, Feng Xianyu knew they would be soft to the touch. He also knew that Zhuo Yu didn’t like closing his eyes during that sort of thing.

Feng Xianyu’s gaze darted back and forth between Zhuo Yu and the pill, his expression rigid—

If it weren’t for the fact that they had been married in a past life, it wouldn’t have been a problem. But now, with a guilty conscience, he really couldn’t bring himself to do it.

As for letting someone else do it… Feng Xianyu found that even weirder. He glanced around the circle and felt that none of those present were worthy of such a task.

After a long while, Feng Xianyu gritted his teeth and removed the white gauze from Zhuo Yu’s eyes.

Zhuo Yu lowered his head obediently, cooperating.

Feng Xianyu held the white gauze, but didn’t move for another long moment. Zhuo Yu didn’t rush him, waiting patiently. After an unknown period, Feng Xianyu felt the other’s hand grope upward, then take back the white gauze.

What was he going to do?

Feng Xianyu was puzzled.

Zhuo Yu, as if knowing he would ask, tied the white gauze back on himself. Silver talisman light rippled like a pond, immediately soothing the pain in his eyes. Then Feng Xianyu heard him say calmly, “It’s fine. It just hurts a little. It’ll heal on its own in time.”

He didn’t even ask why.

And he was so understanding.

Feng Xianyu: “………………”

Suddenly, Feng Xianyu felt his conscience ache.

Seeing Zhuo Yu already turning to leave, Feng Xianyu finally gritted his teeth, shot forward, grabbed Zhuo Yu’s wrist, and said through clenched teeth, “Lower your head!”

Then, he roughly tore off the gauze, placed the pill under his tongue, hooked his arm around Zhuo Yu’s neck, pulled him down, steeled his heart, and closed his eyes.

Feng Xianyu had no idea that, under everyone’s gaze, his reckless, give-it-all-up posture looked like he was aiming straight for Zhuo Yu’s lips.

The disciples hadn’t heard A Yue’s words. They had no idea what was happening, watching in confusion. Caught off guard, they all gaped in shock, evolving from a group of little cultivators into a flock of big quails, frozen stiff, eyes wide and blank, their brains and tongues having fled who knows where.