AUOF - 21

The likelihood of Ji Hengyu deceiving her was extremely high!

Carefully considering it, the supposed mutual backlash of injuries simply didn’t make sense. If he were injured and that injury backlashed onto her, then she’d have a new wound—wouldn’t that just continue the cycle endlessly?

You hurt me, I hurt you—when would it ever end? It was a textbook infinite loop!

Sang Li’s fox-like mind wasn’t just sharp; it had suddenly clicked into place with startling clarity!

She crouched down, staring directly at Ji Hengyu, her expression solemn. “Tell me, is it true that whenever I’m injured, it backlashes onto you? Because you don’t trust me and are afraid I’ll exploit this fact, so you fabricated this lie to deceive me.”

She knew Ji Hengyu was naturally distrustful, and this kind of reasoning fit perfectly with what he might do. If not for discovering the backlash that day, Ji Hengyu would’ve killed her long ago—why would he let her live until now?

The only reason he hadn’t dared to act rashly now was because the curse would backlash and harm him.

He remained silent, which to Sang Li was as good as an admission.

Sang Li clenched her fists tightly, her chest rising and falling slightly with anger. “Ji Hengyu, you’re despicable.” She couldn’t bring herself to hurl harsh insults, but these four words came from the depths of her heart: “I hate you.”

Ji Hengyu had made countless enemies in his life; those who despised him numbered in the thousands.

As the saying goes, “If one doesn’t look out for oneself, heaven and earth will destroy them.” He admitted to being despicable, but in this world, who could truly claim to be magnanimous or wholly virtuous?

Even the Buddha couldn’t achieve perfect fairness for all beings in this world.

Ji Hengyu didn’t deny it, but the moment he raised his eyes to meet hers, his heart suddenly clenched as if gripped by vines.

Those bright, clear fox-like eyes were filled with nothing but rejection, coldness, and disdain for him.

Ji Hengyu knew this surge of emotion was caused by the cursed bond.

“So what if it is?” He ignored the bitterness in his heart and smirked carelessly. “You’re just a spy from the demon clan—do you really expect me to trust you?”

Not mentioning this would’ve been fine, but bringing it up only made Sang Li feel even more wronged.

Had she chosen to become a spy?

She didn’t have the talent of Yan Jinglou, who could break through karma when Sifangzhou was destroyed and become a feared Demon Lord. Nor was she like Ji Hengyu, who stood high above others, revered by thousands.

The original owner of her soul was merely a small spirit fox rejected by the heavens. Trapped in this world, she had no choice but to rely on fate and others—what else could she do?

In her fury, Sang Li summoned a cold dagger into her palm and raised her hand, ready to plunge it into his chest.

Under the entangled moonlight, his eyes were like a lake shrouded in icy stillness, reflecting only shadows, devoid of emotion.

The sharp blade stopped just one centimeter from his chest. Her trembling fingertips hesitated, and in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to strike.

Sang Li withdrew her hand and silently turned to leave.

Just then, Li Ningxi arrived with the other disciples. Seeing Sang Li, he waved enthusiastically: “Little immortal maid, you’re alright? And His Excellency…”

His warm greeting was met with Sang Li brushing past him in utter indifference.

Li Ningxi scratched the back of his head, puzzled: “Not happy?” But soon, his attention shifted to Ji Hengyu under the tree.

Ji Hengyu’s condition looked terrible.

The spiritual energy around him was unstable, his aura chaotic—it seemed he had been gravely injured, possibly affecting Sifangzhou itself.

Li Ningxi steadied himself and hurried over: “Your Highness, how did you end up like this?”

Ji Hengyu closed his eyes briefly, offering no reply. He simply said faintly: “Let’s go back.”

Li Ningxi didn’t dare delay and quickly ordered preparations for transportation.

On the way back, Sang Li rode alone in a sedan chair. After two hours, they finally returned to Gui Xu.

News of Ji Hengyu’s severe injuries quickly spread throughout Gui Xu Palace. Some of the apothecary disciples rushed to his residence, while others were tasked with settling and caring for the disciples of the Celestial Pavilion. Amidst the commotion, little attention was paid to the small immortal maid in the group.

Sang Li returned to Huan Sha Garden alone via the floating cloud cable car.

At this hour, the maidservants were already asleep, and she didn’t want to disturb Mudan, who was sound asleep. Just as she was about to undress and climb into bed, the candle on the table suddenly lit up.

The bright, flickering flame illuminated the small bedroom. Mudan rubbed her eyes and climbed out of bed, her drowsiness vanishing instantly upon seeing Sang Li.

“No wonder I heard some noise—Ah Li, you’re back!”

Sang Li hadn’t expected to wake Mudan and gave her an apologetic smile. “Mm, I’m back. Did I disturb you?”

“No, no! I’m so happy you’re back safely.” Mudan excitedly grabbed her hands, looking her over. “How come you’ve grown thinner after just one day? Was subduing demons on the mountain that exhausting?”

Exhaustion wasn’t quite the word for it—it was…

Thinking of the cursed bond she shared with Ji Hengyu, Sang Li’s face clouded over with worry.

Mudan noticed and understood that something troubling must have happened—something she couldn’t talk about. Quickly changing the subject, she asked, “Are you hungry?”

Sang Li patted her empty stomach. Though immortals didn’t technically need food, both she and Mudan had once been human and still enjoyed snacks occasionally.

Sang Li nodded honestly. “A little.”

“Wait here—I’ll go to the kitchen and get you something to eat.”

Hearing this, Sang Li hastily grabbed her. “No, no! If Aunt sees you, she’ll scold you.”

Mudan brushed it off. “Everyone in Gui Xu is focused on those returning Celestial Pavilion disciples right now—who cares about us? Don’t worry, wait for me. I’ll be quick.”

She casually threw on a coat and slipped out of the room. When she returned, she carried a steaming plate of sweet-and-sour fish and a bowl of warming soup.

“The fish was a gift from the medicine garden’s official—it’s a hundred-year-old spirit carp. Eating it can boost cultivation. The soup is called Four Seasons Soup. I learned it when I was a palace maid in the mortal realm, though it’s been so long—I might not have made it as well as before.”

Mudan smiled shyly. “Try it. If you don’t like it, let me know, and I’ll improve next time.”

To be honest, Sang Li didn’t think it tasted bad at all.

Even if it had been terrible, she would’ve found it delicious.

Sang Li sipped the Four Seasons Soup in small bites. The warmth of the soup paired perfectly with the sweet-and-sour tang of the fish, making her entire body feel cozy and comforted.

For a fleeting moment, she thought of her best friend.

When she was young and lived in the courtyard with her aunt, her best friend’s parents worked abroad, and she was raised by her grandparents. Both of them lacked parental figures, so they hit it off immediately and became inseparable friends. Until she immigrated with her parents at age fifteen, they remained close.

She wondered how her friend was doing now…

“A Li, why aren’t you eating anymore?” Mudan rested her chin on her hands, anxiously asking, “Is it not to your liking?”

Sang Li snapped out of her thoughts and shook her head. “It’s delicious.” Looking into Mudan’s round, almond-shaped eyes, her heart felt as bittersweet as the sweet-and-sour fish. “Thank you, Mudan.”

“Hehe, we’re friends, aren’t we?” Mudan yawned and rubbed her eyes. “I have to get up early tomorrow to dry medicinal herbs. After you finish eating, go to sleep. Leave the dishes here—I’ll clean them up in the morning.”

She collapsed back onto the bed and fell asleep almost instantly.

Sang Li couldn’t help but chuckle.

This girl fell asleep as quickly as she woke up.

Sang Li finished every last bite of the meal, washed the dishes in the kitchen, and finally crawled back into bed.

Facing away from Mudan, Sang Li lay wide awake.

Her fingers unconsciously traced the scar on her arm. The wound hadn’t healed yet, and the cursed pattern etched onto it felt strangely hot to the touch.

**

Early the next morning.

Sang Li quietly sneaked to the entrance of Shuo Guang Hall.

The two lion statues guarding the door held tridents crossed in front of them, their fierce expressions glaring menacingly.

Inside the hall, it was eerily quiet. She tiptoed and strained to listen but heard not a single sound.

Just as she was hesitating whether to call out, a figure suddenly emerged from within.

The woman wore a pale green robe, elegant and graceful, resembling a stalk of bamboo swaying in the spring breeze.

Sang Li’s eyes lit up, and she bounced over, waving enthusiastically: “Senior Sister Yuezhu!”

Seeing her, Yuezhu Qing was equally surprised: “Sang Li? What are you doing here?”

Without missing a beat, Sang Li lied smoothly: “Yesterday, when we went down the mountain, His Excellency fell victim to the Mirror Demon while saving me. I’ve been so worried that I couldn’t sleep all night. I came here hoping to see how His Excellency is doing—is he alright?”

Yuezhu Qing approached her and said, “True Lord Wuyan Zhaoshu will be visiting shortly. We’ll have to wait for his diagnosis to know more.”

“Oh.”

That meant she probably wouldn’t be able to see Ji Hengyu…

Sang Li hung her head dejectedly and turned to leave, but Yuezhu Qing called her back.

“His Excellency is currently free. Perhaps I should go ask if he’s willing to see you.”

Her downcast eyes lit up again, and she nodded vigorously like a pecking chick. “Alright, alright! Then I’ll trouble Senior Sister to announce me.”

Yuezhu Qing didn’t understand why she was so excited, but she found Sang Li’s enthusiasm strangely endearing and couldn’t help but smile faintly. “Then wait here quietly. Don’t wander off.” The Shuo Guang Hall was filled with hidden traps and weapons; a careless step could easily lead to trouble.

After giving her instructions, Yuezhu Qing returned to the inner hall.

She wasn’t one to meddle in others’ affairs—normally, she would’ve found an excuse to send Sang Li away. But for some reason, Yuezhu Qing felt that Sang Li was different from others, and even Ji Hengyu’s attitude toward her was unusual.

The Immortal Lord had been solitary for many years. If there were any signs of a change of heart, as his disciple, she should pay attention and offer help where she could.

“Your Excellency.”

Yuezhu Qing didn’t enter the hall but relayed the message at the door: “Sang Li is waiting outside. She says she wants to personally thank you for saving her life.”

Ji Hengyu was reclining on his bed, resting peacefully. Upon hearing this, he couldn’t help but let out a derisive snort but ultimately said—

“Let her in.”

Yuezhu Qing went to fetch her.

As soon as Sang Li followed Yuezhu Qing into the Shuo Guang Hall, she caught a glimpse of a red figure rushing over—it looked like… Situ? Her heart skipped a beat, and in panic, she quickly darted to the other side.

Yuezhu Qing led her to the door and gestured, “Go ahead.”

“Thank you, Senior Sister.”

Sang Li thanked her again and entered alone.

This was only the second time she’d come here since that night.

The furnishings of the inner hall were so familiar, and the memory of that table lingered deeply in her mind.

She took a deep breath, forcibly sweeping away those inappropriate thoughts, and slowly approached Ji Hengyu.

Through the thin curtains, the figure on the bed was faintly visible.

He seemed to be sitting reclined, his gaze following her movements with apparent indifference.

Sang Li didn’t step inside the curtains but stopped outside. “I came to see how you’re doing. Are you feeling better?”

With a flick of his fingers, Ji Hengyu pulled back the curtains on both sides.

He wore only a snow-white undergarment, his long hair loose, exuding an air of lazy nonchalance.

Though his complexion was pale, it was much improved compared to before.

“Are you so concerned about me?”

Back in Gui Xu Palace, he had once again assumed the demeanor of someone in a position of authority.

But Sang Li hadn’t come here to argue with him, nor to invite his cold ridicule.

She straightened her back, avoiding his gaze, and spoke softly: “I thought about it last night. What you did is understandable. If our positions were reversed, I might have done the same.”

Ji Hengyu’s eyes darkened slightly.

Sang Li continued: “I came to tell you that you can rest assured. Whether or not this curse exists, I won’t harm you anymore, nor will I inform the Demon Lord to use it against you. I disdain such actions. If you still harbor doubts, then continue doubting—I can’t control that.”

Aside from that first night, the cursed bond hadn’t caused Sang Li any negative effects.

At first, she had been angry, but upon reflection, if she were the one being backlashed, she wouldn’t have remained calm either—let alone Ji Hengyu, who had enemies on all sides.

It was understandable; there was nothing to blame him for.

On the contrary, she was the one whose emotions were easily provoked, ready to stab someone at the slightest disagreement. She was grateful that she hadn’t gone through with it yesterday. If she had, how would she be any different from Ji Hengyu, who casually crushed people’s hearts?

The man didn’t say anything, his gaze flickering between light and shadow, fixed unwaveringly on her face. This made Sang Li feel as though she had said something naive, drawing his intense scrutiny.

Suddenly, he smirked. “I didn’t expect you to be so magnanimous.”

“…”

Well, a dog’s mouth truly couldn’t spit out ivory.

“Anyway…” She tugged at the hem of her clothes, frustration evident in her voice. “Until the curse is lifted, I won’t leave Gui Xu Palace. But I do have one condition.”

“Hmm?”

Sang Li mustered her courage and said, “You have to help me remove the Dual-Life Curse from my body.”

Just one body had already been cursed twice—it wasn’t like stacking buffs in a video game. One curse was more than enough to make her miserable, so no matter what, she had to get rid of the Dual-Life Curse.

If he refused, fine. Even if Yan Jinglou used the Dual-Life Curse to manipulate her again, it would ultimately harm Ji Hengyu, not her.

He remained composed and silent.

Sang Li thought he was refusing and opened her mouth to protest when she heard him say, “Come closer.”

Hesitantly, Sang Li took a step forward.

“To my side.”

Her brows furrowed as she reluctantly stood by the bed.

The next moment, Ji Hengyu suddenly pressed his palm against her abdomen.

Startled, Sang Li gasped sharply and quickly retreated. “What are you doing?!”

He raised his eyelids lazily. “There are many types of Dual-Life Curses. If you don’t let me get close, how am I supposed to know which kind the Demon Lord cast on you?”

Fine.

He really knew how to push her buttons!

Sang Li clenched her teeth so hard she felt like she might grind them into dust. In the end, she stiffly stood still before him, allowing his cold hand to press against her once more.

She’d always suspected Ji Hengyu was some kind of cold-blooded creature—how else could his palms always be so icy?

When his hand touched her, Sang Li’s lower belly twitched involuntarily.

Noticing her tension, a hint of playful amusement flickered across Ji Hengyu’s brow, causing Sang Li’s ears to turn red.

He channeled a thread of spiritual energy through his fingertips into her inner dantian.

The little fox spirit was only five hundred years old, so her dantian wasn’t abundant, but her energy was pure and clear—an anomaly for a fox spirit who resided in the demon realm.

Ji Hengyu focused quietly, his smile gradually fading.

A stubborn barrier locked her spirit core, preventing him from probing further.

How strange.

He lifted his gaze to fix his piercing eyes on Sang Li, making her heart race with unease.

“W-what… What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Ji Hengyu smoothly withdrew his hand. “Yan Jinglou has placed a soul-locking type of Dual-Life Curse on you.”

A question mark slowly formed above Sang Li’s head.

Calmly, Ji Hengyu explained, “The Dual-Life Curse is divided into two categories. The first is a spiritual life curse, cast on others for control. This is the most common type and also the easiest to break. The second uses blood essence as a medium, planted within someone’s spiritual sea to lock their three souls and seven spirits. This curse is difficult to break; only the blood of the person who cast it can dissolve it.”

Sang Li’s mind went blank. “Are you saying… I have to go back and get a drop of Yan Jinglou’s blood?”

Ji Hengyu gave a slight nod. That simple gesture sent her heart plummeting into the abyss.