When Ling Ye’s oppressive aura suddenly burst forth, Xi Yuan lazily stretched and said casually, “What, did you notice something wrong?”
“Nan Shan is calling me,” Ling Ye’s voice was low and deep, and his refined features grew increasingly cold and solemn.
Xi Yuan looked at him in surprise, then poked at the air with a crooked finger.
“You sure? Here?”
The direction he pointed was toward a massive island, shrouded by a thick, sky-obscuring resentment. It looked like a hard shell enclosing the island.
Even though they could see the decayed land and scattered bones on it clearly, they couldn’t get any closer.
“Let me remind you, the resentment here is so dense it’s taken form. If Sun Nan Shan is really on that island, she’s either become a broken-soul wraith by now, or her soul’s been completely devoured…”
Before he finished speaking, a longsword glowing with blue light pointed directly at his throat.
As its energy grazed his skin, it left a shallow wound, and a strand of silver hair floated down.
Xi Yuan glanced at his carefully maintained long hair and looked innocently at Ling Ye.
“Can’t even speak the truth?”
“She’s still alive,” Ling Ye said coldly.
Xi Yuan chuckled.
“Even my soul-luring techniques couldn’t confirm that. How can you be so sure?”
“I just know,” Ling Ye’s eyes darkened.
The smile faded from Xi Yuan’s lips.
After meeting his gaze for a long moment, he finally stepped back in compromise.
Only then did Ling Ye withdraw his sword, his face still cold as he headed toward the island.
The resentment on the island, sensing the spiritual energy on him, surged at him instantly, completely engulfing him.
Leaning lazily against a rock, Xi Yuan watched Ling Ye rush headfirst into the deadly mist, and couldn’t help but snort, “What’s so great about that girl Sun Nan Shan anyway?”
She was apparently worth enough for the young lord of the Underworld to risk his life for her—and after more than a year, he still hadn’t given up.
Xi Yuan leisurely watched Ling Ye attempt again and again to break into the island.
When it looked like his spiritual energy was about to erupt, Xi Yuan finally threw out a long whip and pulled him out of the mist.
“Another failure,” Xi Yuan said lightly.
Ling Ye’s expression grew darker.
“What’s going on with this resentment? It’s endless and ever-regenerating. What happened in Dongyi before this? How did it come to this?”
“How would I know?”
Xi Yuan shrugged.
Ling Ye had just been talking to himself, but Xi Yuan’s interruption brought him back to the present.
“Why are you still here?”
he asked gruffly.
Xi Yuan wanted to roll his eyes but restrained himself for the sake of his looks.
He smiled and reminded him, “The six-month period is over. I came to get the antidote.”
Ling Ye clenched and then opened his fist.
A black pill appeared in his palm, and he tossed it to Xi Yuan.
Xi Yuan caught it, swallowed it, and said, “Getting the antidote every six months is such a hassle. Why not give me a few more pills to save you the trouble?”
Ling Ye’s face was blank.
“Do your job. Come back for more in six months.”
Seeing the negotiation fail, Xi Yuan scoffed, “You and Sun Nan Shan, a match made in heaven.”
One of them dared to poison the antidote to a dream-entwining curse sworn by heart’s oath.
The other exploited that poison to force him to work.
He was practically being toyed to death by the both of them.
Ling Ye ignored the mockery and stared coldly at the island shrouded in resentment.
Inside the island, under a blood-red sun, the weather was clear.
Nan Shan was jumping up and down, trying to get the attention of a blurry figure across the shore.
But no matter how hard she tried, the other person remained still as a stump.
Her cries for help grew softer and softer until she could only stare blankly into the distance.
“Was it a hallucination?”
She murmured.
Just then, Shou Xin finally caught up with her.
Tossing aside his oar, he leapt onto her boat.
“What hallucination?”
Nan Shan snapped out of it and looked at him warily.
“What do you want?!”
“I should be asking you that,” Shou Xin replied, frustrated and with blood blisters on both hands.
“Why did you suddenly run away from home like a madwoman? What are you trying to do?”
Nan Shan snorted.
“Enough with the act. I’m not falling for it again.”
“What act?”
Shou Xin was confused.
“Did you hit your head or something?”
Nan Shan sneered, “Ha! Hit my head? You are the evil, aren’t you?”
“What the hell are you talking about…”
Shou Xin was even more confused.
Nan Shan didn’t bother explaining.
She picked up the oar and resumed rowing.
Just as Shou Xin tried to stop her, she said coldly, “If you don’t want me to throw you overboard, stay put.”
Shou Xin paused, tucked his bell back into his robes, and obediently sat down.
Nan Shan kept rowing with a stern face, gnawing on a chicken leg when hungry, sipping water when thirsty. She stubbornly pressed on.
When the black spots on the blood sun grew larger, she finally reached the invisible barrier.
“I rowed in a totally different direction, so how did I still hit the wall?” she muttered, sitting wearily in the boat and gazing toward the opposite shore.
She’d already rowed through two meals’ time since spotting that familiar figure, but the figure was still just as blurry and far away.
“Maybe I really did see wrong,” she murmured.
“How could Ling Ye know where I am?”
A quiet sigh escaped her lips, bitterness rising in her chest.
“Wanna go home?”
Shou Xin asked gently.
Nan Shan said nothing, her face blank.
Shou Xin rubbed his nose and stayed silent.
The two of them sat in the tiny fishing boat, lost in thought as time drifted by without any reference point.
Just when Shou Xin thought they’d die of old age on the boat, the fishermen—who had lost their boat—finally realized something was wrong and came searching in small groups.
Shou Xin saw them from afar and grabbed Nan Shan.
“Nan Shan… Nan Shan! We have to go! We have to leave now!”
Nan Shan was about to ignore him, but his panicked tone made her frown in concern.
“Sure, we were technically thieves, but they worship Ji Yue. They won’t hold it against us.”
“No… it’s not that…”
As the fishermen drew closer, Shou Xin’s breath quickened, his lips turning a pale purple.
“Go… we have to go… I can’t let them see me!”
Nan Shan was startled by how he looked and quickly helped him sit down.
“Wh-what’s happening to you?!”
“….”
Shou Xin’s face turned purple like a fish out of water, suffocating.
“Help… me…”
He could barely speak.
Nan Shan was flustered but knew that waiting for the fishermen and discussing a solution was probably the smartest move.
But…
Seeing the desperate plea in his eyes, she gritted her teeth and rowed away.
The fishermen were just about to reach them but froze in surprise when she suddenly turned and fled.
“Immortal Lord’s wife, don’t run! You might fall in!”
“Don’t worry about me!”
Nan Shan didn’t even look back.
The fishermen grew more anxious.
“You are the wife of Lord Ji Yue. How can we not care? Come back with us!”
“I said leave me alone! Anyone who follows me again—I’ll be very upset!”
She yelled sternly, successfully scaring them into staying put.
She sighed with relief, then glanced down at the barely-breathing Shou Xin.
Her heart clenched again.
“You asked me to take you away. If you die because of this delay in treatment, it’s not on me!”
Shou Xin weakly opened his eyes to show he was still alive.
Nan Shan breathed a sigh of relief, glanced behind, and saw the fishing boats still following at a distance.
“No following!” she shouted, scowling.
The fishermen immediately stopped.
“…They’re pretty obedient. Why did you look like you saw a ghost back there?”
Nan Shan muttered as she resumed rowing.
With the way blocked and unable to stay on the sea forever, and with Shou Xin nearly dead, Nan Shan had no choice but to turn back to Dongyi Island.
When they reached shore, she dragged the weak Shou Xin onto the beach and collapsed beside him.
Letting the tide soak her clothes, she couldn’t bring herself to move another step.
Staring up at the blood sun, now mostly covered, she sighed.
“What am I even doing all this for…”
“Who knows what you’re after…”
Shou Xin replied weakly.
Nan Shan glanced at him and snorted.
“Awake, are you?”
His face still pale, Shou Xin didn’t answer.
“What the hell is your deal? Why are you so afraid of those fishermen?”
She asked curiously.
Shou Xin turned his face away, clearly unwilling to answer.
Nan Shan sneered, “Don’t forget who just saved your life.”
“If I hadn’t chased after you, I wouldn’t have been in danger,” Shou Xin retorted.
Nan Shan: “You say that like I wanted you to chase me.”
Shou Xin: “You’re a thief who stole a boat and fled—of course you don’t want me chasing after you.”
After speaking, he braced himself and waited for Nan Shan to argue back.
But after waiting a long time, no response came.
“…Could she have tricked me into turning around on purpose?”
Shou Xin’s ears twitched.
He tried to hold back, but in the end, he couldn’t resist looking back—only to see Nan Shan’s face pale and drenched in sweat.
Startled, he rushed over and caught her just in time:
“Nan Shan! Nan Shan, don’t scare me! What’s wrong?!”
“…My bones hurt.”
Nan Shan’s lips trembled as she spoke, and then her vision went black as she passed out.
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