When Nan Shan saw the red string on the man’s wrist, her vision went dark.
When she heard him say he was “one of her fiancés,” her vision darkened again.
But at a time like this, she definitely couldn’t just go along with his words.
Nan Shan slowly sat up, putting on her shoes and socks as she casually changed the subject.
“Canglan Palace is heavily guarded. How did you get in?”
“The same way I got in last time,” the man replied lightly.
Nan Shan paused for a moment, and suddenly, a memory surfaced in her mind—
The snowy plains, near death, the kiss that landed on her lips, and the sudden surge of heat within her body.
“So it was you back then…?”
Nan Shan gasped.
The man smiled. “To save you, I even accidentally leaked the aura of the Wan Sheng Cauldron.”
…Wait a minute.
Wasn’t the Wan Sheng Cauldron the Kunlun treasure that the immortal elder had been searching for?
Why was it involved in this?
Nan Shan stared at the man in a daze, her just-awakened mind muddled with confusion, unable to make sense of the situation.
“Are you so touched?”
The man raised an eyebrow and snapped his fingers in front of her.
Nan Shan snapped back to reality.
“You’re the thief who stole the Wan Sheng Cauldron?!”
“Stealing is such an ugly word. I only borrowed it,” the man said casually.
He walked to the table, picked up a wine jar, sniffed it, and then put it back.
“Good stuff, but some of the medicinal herbs are too potent. As a mere mortal, you’d best drink less.”
Nan Shan was dumbfounded by his casual attitude.
She sat there in a daze for a while before slowly getting up from the floor.
The man noticed her movement and looked at her with a lazy, amused gaze, exuding an air of arrogance.
Under his watchful eyes, Nan Shan walked toward him unhurriedly.
“The flower you gave me yesterday—I accidentally lost it.”
In reality, Ling Ye had tossed it away.
“No worries,” the man said, raising an eyebrow.
“I’ll give you another one.”
Nan Shan pressed her lips together.
“The same as yesterday?”
“You want the same one?”
he asked in return.
Nan Shan moved closer.
“No, I want a different one.”
“What kind?”
The man gazed at her leisurely, his eyes shimmering with amusement, carrying an inexplicable allure.
Nan Shan steadied herself and asked, “A peony—one that blooms in layered petals, vibrant and lively. I heard it’s beautiful, but I’ve never seen one before.”
“Hmm… A bit tricky, but I can give it a try.”
As he spoke, spiritual energy began gathering in his palm.
Now!
Nan Shan glanced at the door, then dashed toward it without thinking.
Unfortunately, she only made it three steps before slamming into an invisible barrier.
Since arriving in the Underworld, this had happened at least eight times.
The door was right in front of her, yet she couldn’t get past the invisible wall. Without hesitation, she dropped to the ground, knelt, and pleaded, “Have mercy, immortal!”
A soft chuckle sounded above her head.
Just as she turned her face slightly to assess the situation, a peony was tucked behind her ear.
She caught a glimpse of the flower—it was indeed beautiful.
Too bad her hair was a mess, her clothes were dirty, and she looked completely out of place with it.
The man lifted her chin with his fingers, studying her face for a long moment before clicking his tongue in dissatisfaction.
“A perfectly fine young lady—why has the Underworld raised you in such a sorry state?”
As he spoke, he casually tidied her hair a little.
Nan Shan swallowed nervously, unmoved and not daring to move.
After placing the flower in her hair, the man turned back to the table, used his spiritual power to warm the teapot, and poured two cups of tea.
It seemed he wasn’t planning to kill her.
Nan Shan observed him for a while, then cautiously reached behind her—
The barrier was still there.
Realizing she couldn’t leave on her own, she sighed inwardly and slowly crawled forward until she stopped at his knees.
The man, sipping his tea, noticed her kneeling at his feet, gazing up at him pitifully, and let out a laugh.
That laugh dimmed the entire room.
Unfortunately, before Nan Shan could get lost in his beauty, he asked teasingly, “Aren’t you afraid I’ll kill you, being this close?”
Nan Shan chuckled awkwardly.
“If you wanted to kill me, you would’ve done it when you entered the room.”
“Not entirely foolish,” the man remarked, draining his tea and handing her the other cup.
Nan Shan quickly thanked him and took a sip under his amused gaze before cautiously asking, “Did you come to Canglan Palace just to find me?”
“A fiancé visiting his fiancée—what else could it be?” he asked in return.
Nan Shan shrank back.
“M-my spirit bone hasn’t fully formed yet. It’s useless even if you take it.”
“You even know you have a natural spirit bone? So Yan Yue didn’t hide it from you,” he mused before his tone shifted.
“But who said I was after your spirit bone?”
Nan Shan forced a smile.
“If not my spirit bone… then are you planning to marry me?”
The man stared at her for a long moment before suddenly leaning down.
The distance between them vanished in an instant.
Nan Shan’s mind flashed back to the snowy plains—to when he kissed her—and she instinctively leaned away.
The man, seemingly unaware of her tension, held her gaze for a long time before smirking.
“Not quite.”
Too close.
His breath brushed against her cheek, laced with an unspoken intimacy.
Nan Shan swallowed hard.
“Then… then what do you want?”
The man chuckled.
“I’m taking you to see your other fiancé.”
Nan Shan: “M-my other fiancé?”
“Back then, when I followed the aura of the natural spirit bone to Sun Village, I happened to see your father praying for a marriage match. To prevent anyone else from competing for your spirit bone, I tied a red string between us. But your father wasn’t satisfied and continued searching for another match at the Earth Immortal Temple. So, I had to tie one for him as well.”
The man recalled the past before glancing at her.
“After I tied the strings, your father went straight home. If I hadn’t checked on you before your twentieth birthday and overheard his drunken ramblings, I would have thought I only tied two strings.”
…So, if he was the fourth fiancé and his so-called friend was the fifth, that meant…
Her father’s fifth match—the ‘Earthworm God’—was his friend?!
Nan Shan’s expression twisted in horror.
The man immediately noticed.
“What’s wrong?”
Nan Shan coughed lightly.
“Your… friend—what kind of deity is he?”
“Have you seen his statue?”
The man smiled wickedly.
Nan Shan: “…”
“He looks exactly like his statue,” he confirmed, dashing her last hope.
Nan Shan opened her mouth a few times before finally covering her face.
But her breakdown was short-lived. She quickly gathered herself and asked, “So you’re saying that fiancé was also unwillingly bound to me?”
“‘Also’?”
The man raised an eyebrow.
Nan Shan cleared her throat.
“Ling Ye wasn’t aware either. The immortal elder made the decision for him.”
“Ah, I see.”
The man suddenly smirked.
“Indeed, he doesn’t know. I wonder what his reaction will be when he meets you.”
“What are you trying to do?”
Ling Ye asked again when he saw that she had yet to put pen to paper.
Nan Shan coughed lightly, thinking that if she couldn’t write, at least she could draw. With confidence, she began to sketch.
A quarter of an hour later, she stared silently at the two ducks on the paper.
She had clearly meant to draw that man! Why did she end up drawing two ducks?!
Ling Ye also fell silent as he looked at her work.
Then, realizing that her drawing skills were so terrible yet she still dared to show them to him, he thought—this must be a sign of her deep admiration for him…
At a time like this, it wouldn’t be right to discourage her.
“This is… quite good,” Ling Ye composed himself.
“These two mice are very lifelike.”
Nan Shan: …
Watching as Ling Ye prepared to hang up the drawing, Nan Shan quickly grabbed his arm.
Ling Ye paused, his ears suddenly feeling warm.
“What is it?”
They locked eyes for a long time.
Nan Shan let out a light breath, deciding to try a more subtle approach—rather than directly saying or writing what had happened to her, she would hint at it.
Perhaps she could vaguely imply that she was in danger, or suggest that she had been poisoned with some kind of spell that prevented her from speaking freely.
Given Ling Ye’s intelligence, he should quickly figure out what was happening to her.
But the moment she had this thought, a chilling sensation spread through her body, as if something was lurking inside her, ready to kill her if she revealed anything she shouldn’t.
Nan Shan instinctively knew she couldn’t speak.
She swallowed back all the words she had been about to say.
“N-nothing,” she murmured, letting go of Ling Ye.
Ling Ye didn’t miss the yearning in her eyes and the hesitation in her expression.
But before he could ask further, a palace servant arrived with lunch.
At the sight of food, Ling Ye focused entirely on eating.
Meanwhile, Nan Shan absentmindedly sat down, poking at a piece of braised pork—a dish she usually loved—with her chopsticks.
She stabbed at it a few times, took a reluctant bite, and then simply stared at her rice bowl.
After a long while, she suddenly put down her chopsticks, catching Ling Ye’s attention.
“…I need to head back for a bit. Take your time eating.”
With that, she ran off without looking back.
Ling Ye glanced at her untouched rice and braised pork, his brows gradually knitting together.
Nan Shan ran at full speed, her heartbeat growing wilder as she neared her residence.
In truth, given the uncertainty of the situation, the safest option was to stay by Ling Ye’s side at all times.
But an icy fear had crept into her heart earlier, and she suddenly remembered that man’s warning to “say less nonsense.”
Her instincts told her that things weren’t so simple.
If she was going to die anyway, she might as well face it head-on.
Reaching her bedroom door, she steadied her breathing before cautiously pushing it open.
Sure enough, the man was still there, leaning against the desk, seemingly fast asleep.
Nan Shan hadn’t expected to return to this scene.
She hesitated for a moment before glancing at her dressing table.
On it sat two Qiankun Bags—one containing worn-out clothes, the other previously filled with scrap metal… but now, it clearly held weapons.
She sneaked a glance at the man.
Good. Still asleep.
Moving lightly, she tiptoed inside and shuffled her way to the dressing table, her focus entirely on rummaging through the weapons.
Darksteel was out of the question—it hadn’t been forged into a weapon yet.
The sword was too heavy for her to lift.
A dagger… yes, a dagger would do.
Her eyes lit up. Just as she was about to grab it, a cool voice spoke from behind her:
“Those weapons require spiritual energy to activate. Are you sure you, a mere mortal, can use them?”
Nan Shan’s hands trembled, producing a faint tearing sound.
But she quickly composed herself and turned around with a fawning smile.
“I wasn’t planning to use them myself. I just thought… since this is our first meeting, I should give you a gift. So I was carefully picking something out.”
“Is that so?”
The man’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.
At this point, there was no need to pretend anymore.
Nan Shan stopped beating around the bush and stepped forward.
“Did you put something inside me?”
The man lifted an eyelid, watching her silently.
Nan Shan’s heart sank.
“So you really did?”
“Do you mean recently, or before?” he asked in return.
It took her a moment to understand his meaning.
When she did, she sucked in a sharp breath.
“You poisoned me before, too?!”
“Not poison,” the man corrected with a chuckle.
“It’s a technique unique to my clan, called ‘Soul Guidance.’ Mortals are fragile and difficult to protect. Even with spiritual energy shielding you, there was no guarantee you’d live long enough for me to retrieve you one day. If I didn’t leave something inside you, how else could I have saved you when you were in danger? See? It came in handy back in the snowy plains.”
Nan Shan opened and closed her mouth several times before finally forcing out a sentence:
“Forget about the past. What did you do to me today?”
“What could I have done?” The man laughed. The luxurious furnishings of the room seemed to dull in comparison to his presence.
“I simply offered you a cup of tea.”
Nan Shan’s head snapped up.
Just as she stared at him in alarm, he flicked his fingers, and she was suddenly pulled toward him, weightless.
He reached for her sleeve.
She instinctively struggled but stopped when she saw the black lines on her arm.
“What is this?” she asked, stunned.
“Heart-Twisting Poison. It burrows into your heart, impossible to remove,” the man said as he grasped her arm. A moment later, he let go, and the black lines vanished.
“I advise you not to reveal anything—not directly, not subtly. Once Yan Yue returns and removes the tracking spell, you will leave with me. Otherwise, if these lines appear again, not even the gods can save you.”
Not being able to seek help was no different from waiting to die.
The man seemed to read her thoughts.
His eyes, always carrying a teasing smile, sparkled even brighter.
“There is a difference,” he said.
“If you try to tell, you will die immediately. But if you don’t… perhaps the person I know simply wants to see what a girl born with innate spiritual bones looks like. Maybe he doesn’t actually want your life.”
“…Do you believe that yourself?” Nan Shan asked dryly.
The man merely smiled.
Then, with a flicker, he vanished into thin air.
Nan Shan narrowed her eyes, intentionally sitting at her dressing table a while longer to confirm he was truly gone.
Then she pulled out a dagger from the Qiankun Bag.
The man had said that these weapons required spiritual energy to use.
If she couldn’t ask for help, then she would just have to cultivate spiritual energy herself! After all, she was born with an innate spiritual constitution—shouldn’t cultivating be easy for her?
Her resolve hardened as she clenched the dagger.
He might have saved her life, but she wasn’t stupid.
Unlike the celestial elders who wanted to marry her for her powers, Xi Yuan had only saved her to claim her life later.
If he wanted to fatten up the pig before slaughtering it, then he shouldn’t blame the pig for fighting back.
She would show no mercy!
…Or at least, that’s what she told herself. But after a moment, she collapsed onto the dressing table with a groan.
“Easier said than done! I don’t even know how to use a dagger!”