Lang Junxian gently stroked Bai Maomao’s back.
The two of them were so close that he could even smell the pleasant scent of Bai Maomao’s body wash.
The steam mixed with Bai Maomao’s unique fragrance, calming Lang Junxian’s restless heart.
Before the age of ten, everything for Lang Junxian was a mixture of hope and the pain of shattered dreams.
His mother was a Yao, originally from the Demon Wolf Clan.
It was said that this clan carried a trace of the ancient Celestial Wolf’s bloodline.
Once in several generations, a pure Son of Celestial Wolf would appear, gifted with the innate talent and legacy of the ancient Celestial Wolf.
The Lang family was originally founded by one such Son of Celestial Wolf.
In ancient times, the boundary between humans and Yao was not distinct, and intermarriage between the two was commonplace.
The Lang family was no exception, established from such a union.
Later, the founder married a woman from the Demon Wolf Clan, and so the Lang family legacy was passed down through generations.
This balance continued until the great battle between the Phoenix King of Lihuo and Emperor Xuanyuan.
The Yao were utterly defeated; the Phoenix King of Lihuo perished, and the Southwestern Great Marsh burned dry in the Phoenix True Fire.
From then on, the Yao vanished from the world.
What followed was the rise of the human race.
The remaining Yao became like ghosts in the night, drifting in hiding, leaving behind only faint rumors and legends.
Ancient families like the Langs were not rare; initially, perhaps out of kindness, they took in homeless Yao.
But human hearts changed over time, and that kindness turned into mere captivity.
Beautiful Yao women mostly became exotic playthings for noble sons, while fierce and battle-hardened Yao men were trained as secret servants.
This was not unique to the Lang family; many old families with long legacies harbored traces of Yao blood.
Lang Junxian’s mother was one of those beautiful Yao.
Growing up in the Lang family, she was chosen by his father at eighteen and kept as a plaything in the old mansion.
The wolf that had been caged for so long had lost its wild nature and survival skills, clinging weakly to his father for life.
After Lang Junxian was born, his father’s attitude toward them was still somewhat decent, visiting several times each month.
In Lang Junxian’s memories, those days were the happiest.
But looking back, what he had most looked forward to in his childhood was probably only pain in his mother’s eyes.
If his father hadn’t suddenly changed, locking him away and if his mother hadn’t died trying to save him, perhaps they would still be quietly muddling through their lives in the old Lang mansion until their natural ends.
“That’s all there is to it, really nothing worth talking about.”
Lang Junxian laughed bitterly.
Bai Maomao pressed his forehead against his and asked curiously, “Why did your father suddenly lock you up?”
“I don’t know,” Lang Junxian shook his head.
“He gave me a lot of strange things to eat back then. It seemed like he was testing some kind of medicine.”
“Testing medicine?”
Bai Maomao tensed.
“It didn’t harm you, did it?”
“How could it not…”
Lang Junxian lowered his eyes.
“After that, I became what you see now.”
From a human, he had turned into a half-human, half-Yao form.
Bai Maomao squirmed and nuzzled into his embrace, resting his hand on Lang Junxian’s chest.
“It’s all in the past now.”
“Yeah, if it weren’t like this, I wouldn’t have met you.”
The air around them suddenly thickened.
Bai Maomao parted his lips, breathing deeply, his cheeks flushing warm.
“So, what do you plan to do?”
“Maybe we can go see Mo Qin first.”
Mo Family.
Mo Qin was gently stroking a smooth-furred rabbit in his arms.
Opposite him sat a middle-aged man who looked about eighty percent similar to him.
His expression was grim as he glared at his increasingly rebellious son.
“The Ji Family has agreed to the marriage. The wedding will be next February.”
Mo Qin slowly traced the rabbit’s sleek fur with lowered eyes.
The soft texture pleased him so much his eyes narrowed slightly.
The rabbit, after being fussed over for a long time, kicked its legs in dissatisfaction and turned its back to him.
“Yan Yu is hungry. I’ll take him to lunch first,” Mo Qin said, rising to leave.
“Is this how you treat your father and your family?”
The cigarette ashtray on the white jade table clattered to the floor.
The rabbit in Mo Qin’s arms trembled, startled, then buried itself deeper into his embrace.
Mo Qin’s indifferent expression instantly darkened.
He glided forward like a phantom to the middle-aged man, his deep black eyes bottomless voids.
“You forgot, I am now the head of the Mo Family.”
“You!”
Mo Juntian was stunned by his son’s cold glare.
The words caught in his throat, unable to continue.
The little rabbit nudged Mo Qin, signaling hunger again.
Mo Qin’s gaze softened immediately, carefully cradling the rabbit as he went to eat.
Midway through the meal, the steward came to inform him that there were visitors outside.
Mo Qin ignored it, focused solely on feeding his precious rabbit.
The little rabbit had a small appetite, eating only a few bites before refusing to open its mouth further.
Patiently, Mo Qin coaxed it with spirit herbs.
“Yan Yu, be good, just one more bite, okay?”
The rabbit turned its back on him again.
The steward stood by the table, watching silently, not daring to breathe.
When the young master first brought back this rabbit, it was covered in blood and had long since died.
After the young master agreed to some request from the patriarch and secluded himself for nearly half a year, he returned not only with his lost cultivation restored but even stronger than the patriarch.
And the rabbit, which should have been dead long ago, also came back to life, never leaving the young master’s side.
But upon closer observation, the rabbit always seemed slow to react, spending whole days in the young master’s arms without moving much.
The steward lowered his head, thinking deeply.
Mo Qin didn’t even glance at him, and the steward was used to this, quietly waiting aside.
When Mo Qin wiped his hands and prepared to go to the inner courtyard with the rabbit, the steward finally spoke, “Master, the visitors say they are your friends, and also bring the Mo Family’s White Jade Order.”
“Oh?”
Mo Qin paused.
“White Jade Order?”
“What did they say their names were?”
“Lang Junxian and Bai Hongyuan.”
“Let them in.”
The steward was stunned—he hadn’t expected them to truly be old friends—and quickly went to admit them.
When Mo Qin entered, Bai Maomao almost didn’t recognize him.
Mo Qin was tall and liked to exercise, so he usually had bulky muscles, looking very robust.
Coupled with his ever-smiling face, he gave off a sunny disposition.
But the man sitting beside them was still tall, only now extremely thin.
His black Tang suit hung loosely on his gaunt frame, making his bones seem even more pronounced.
His once healthy bronze skin had turned pale, with an unnatural bluish-white hue.
Bai Maomao’s sharp eyes noticed something moving beneath the skin on his neck, as if a living creature was crawling there.
Even the little vine on his sleeve twitched slightly in agitation.
The three sat in silence.
Only half a year had passed, yet everything had changed beyond recognition.
“Are you…alright?”
Bai Maomao asked cautiously.
Mo Qin leaned back in his chair, the obedient rabbit lying motionless on his lap.
“Nothing is wrong,” Mo Qin smiled, a strange aura flickering in his eyes.
“Yan Yu is well, so I’m fine.”
Bai Maomao was taken aback and glanced at the white rabbit on his lap.
“Yan Yu?”
Mo Qin frowned, displeased.
“I don’t like others calling him that.”
Bai Maomao didn’t mind his attitude and pressed anxiously, “Yan Miao, he…he didn’t…”
“No!”
Mo Qin cut him off harshly, his face darkening as if the mention of that name could trigger an explosion at any moment.
“He’s fine. I will always be with him.”
Bai Maomao, snapping out of his excitement, finally noticed Mo Qin’s odd behavior and looked uneasily at Lang Junxian.
Lang Junxian comforted him with a gentle pat on the hand.
He had long noticed Mo Qin’s volatile moods and saw more than Bai Maomao did.
A foreboding deathly aura lingered around Mo Qin.
Moreover, Mo Qin’s cultivation now surpassed his own.
“We came to see you to make a deal.”
The sentiment of old classmates clearly wouldn’t work, so they chose to speak frankly about terms.
Mo Qin’s hand stroking the rabbit’s fur paused.
The hostility in his eyes seemed to fade slightly, and he tried to curl his lips into a not-so-friendly smile.
“There’s no need for deals between us.”
His voice was low and deep.
“Yan Yu would be mad at me if he knew.”