AUOF - 43

The Shuoguang Hall remained as quiet and desolate as ever.

If there was any difference, it was the addition of a few small leaf-like creatures, just like the ones Sang Li had seen when she first arrived. A group of these little fellows scurried around with brooms, diligently sweeping the floor.

“Heave-ho, heave-ho,” they went, looking utterly absorbed in their work.

“Lord Ji, you called for me?” Sang Li pulled her attention away from the little leaves and bowed to the man seated at the front of the hall.

Ji Hengyu, who had been working at his desk, flicked his eyes up briefly. “Sit.”

Judging by his demeanor, it seemed he would be busy for quite some time. Not wanting to stand idly, Sang Li lifted her skirt and sat beside him, patiently waiting.

After finishing the last stack of scrolls, Ji Hengyu tossed them aside casually and asked, “Did you receive your training assignment?”

“I did,” Sang Li replied, immediately straightening her posture, which had been relaxed just moments ago. “Would Lord Ji like to see it?”

“No need,” Ji Hengyu said. “I called you here to discuss something else.”

Sang Li listened attentively as he continued, “Before Shuang Mei died, he mentioned something called the Liu Flame Pearl. Do you know what it is?”

Sang Li shook her head honestly.

Ji Hengyu explained, “The Unkind Prison is where the six realms gather all who have committed great evils. Whether human, god, demon, or ghost, those who have done wrong will have their souls drift to the Unkind Prison after death, undergoing tens of thousands of years of soul cleansing and refinement before they can return to the cycle of reincarnation. The Liu Flame Pearl is the eye of the Unkind Prison.”

He tapped the desk lightly, his expression darkening. “For the Unkind Prison, losing one Liu Flame Pearl or gaining another makes little difference. However, if it falls into the hands of the demon clan, it could bring calamity.”

Sang Li leaned forward and whispered, “What kind of calamity?”

Ji Hengyu explained, “The Liu Flame Pearl is a naturally formed celestial bead that has absorbed the essence of evil souls for countless years, granting it sentience. If the Yanjing Tower were to use it to forge weapons, it would result in divine armaments descending upon the world. Therefore...” He propped his elbow on the table, leaning closer until his pupils reflected her face, his voice brushing against her ear like silk. “I want you to steal it back for me.”

Hiss.

Sang Li sucked in a sharp breath, instinctively leaning back.

“Lord Ji...” She forced out a dry laugh. “You overestimate me too much. I don’t have the ability to do such a thing.”

If this pearl was truly so powerful, the Yanjing Tower would undoubtedly guard it strictly.

Steal it?

Impossible.

“Hmm?” Ji Hengyu smiled gently. “Didn’t you once say you’d help me kill the Yanjing Tower? Now I’m not asking you to kill him—just to steal something. Are you telling me you can’t even manage that?”

Sang Li silently grumbled. Back then was back then; now was now. How could the two situations even compare?

She scratched her cheek in frustration. “What if I can’t steal it?”

Ji Hengyu replied with unwavering patience, “Then you’ll think of a way—until you succeed.”

“...”

So, in the end, it still fell on her shoulders.

Sang Li felt defeated.

In fact, she truly gave up. She no longer bothered maintaining her composure, slumping onto the desk like a limp noodle. She carelessly scattered the neatly stacked scrolls in front of him, completely indifferent to whether he might get angry.

“I’m supposed to steal blood and pearls alike—what’s the difference between that and going to my death?” Sang Li complained bitterly. “Your words decide my life. You may not care, but I do...”

Scrolls fell to the ground one after another. Whenever Ji Hengyu picked one up, she deliberately knocked it down again, repeating the process multiple times with mischievous glee.

Ji Hengyu raised an eyebrow. Was the earlier Sang Li really this unruly??

[Little fox isn’t afraid of you anymore!! She likes you!!!]

Ji Wu’s voice suddenly intruded into his mind.

He automatically ignored Ji Wu, deliberately placing the scrolls he picked up right in front of her. Sang Li tossed them around one by one, scattering them all over the floor until the mess finally brought her back to her senses. Realizing she had gotten carried away, her heart skipped a beat.

Sang Li quickly straightened up, carefully observing Ji Hengyu’s expression.

His face remained calm and composed, but the more casual he appeared, the more dangerous the situation likely was.

Swallowing hard, Sang Li obediently scrambled to pick up all the scrolls, stacking them neatly once more. Finally, she sat upright, her posture impeccable, her wide eyes clearly betraying her fear of angering him.

Ji Hengyu was not someone who lost his temper easily.

In fact, when his karma affliction wasn’t acting up, his emotions were remarkably stable. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have managed to raise the mischievous Qi since childhood, nor would he tolerate Li Ningxi’s audacity so often.

Such trivial matters hardly warranted his wrath.

Instead, Ji Hengyu found the situation curious—and somewhat amusing. He vividly recalled how terrified Sang Li had been of him at first. But since returning from the Abyss Dungeon, it seemed... she wasn’t as afraid of him anymore?

Ji Wu’s emotions were intense: [What are you spacing out for? The little fox is about to leave the mountain. Who knows when she’ll return? Hurry up and make her sleep, lest your karma flares up again.]

Sleep...

The crude remark caught Ji Hengyu off guard, momentarily halting his breath. Yet, despite himself, he couldn’t help but recall various images.

How strange.

Even though the heart containing the parasite was now in Ji Xun’s possession, his chest still burned fiercely, his blood racing at an alarming pace. It disrupted his breathing, turning his inner world into a boiling tide of heat.

Ji Hengyu picked up a cup of chilled tea and took a slow sip. The coolness slid down his throat, slightly quelling the rising heat. “If you truly encounter danger, wound yourself.”

Sang Li thought she had misheard. “You’re telling me... to hurt myself?”

Ji Hengyu reassured her, “Rest assured. Your life and death are tied to my survival. I won’t abandon you.”

That made sense.

Sang Li truly felt relieved, strutting away confidently. As she left, she playfully pinched the two tiny buds atop the head of one of the leaf creatures sweeping the floor.

The little leaf creature squeaked indignantly, raising its broom as if to strike her. But being too short to reach her and unable to catch up, it could only whimper pitifully toward Ji Hengyu.

He shook his head helplessly and called out, “Qi.”

Qi entered, bowing slightly. “Lord Ji.”

“Prepare our things. We’re leaving as well.”

Qi raised his head, confusion evident beneath his mask.

“The information I gave Shen Zheyou was false. He’s from the Celestial Pavilion, and I don’t trust him. So, I intend to investigate personally. You’ll accompany me.”

“Yes.”

________________________________________

On the day before her departure for training, Sang Li received the items distributed by the palace gates to the trainees.

Perhaps because it was a high-risk profession, the Gui Xu Palace offered generous benefits to its disciples. Even trainee disciples who hadn’t formally joined yet could receive decent stipends.

In Sang Li’s package, there were spirit stones sufficient for three months of use, a variety of spirit medicines, three sets of clothing for changing, and a longsword crafted by Gui Xu’s forging workshop. Along with the large bundles of food Peony gave her before she left, she was well-equipped.

Sang Li was quite satisfied, especially with the longsword.

The last treasured weapon given to her by Si Tuo had broken, which she regretted for quite some time. Although this sword wasn’t as good as the Xuanmian Blade, it was more than adequate.

Carrying her things, she headed to the stables to collect her mount.

Sang Li arrived a little late. By then, only a few horses were left in the stable. Judging by their size, they hadn’t reached adulthood, and even their wings hadn’t fully grown in yet.

Something felt a little off, but still hopeful, she approached the stablemaster. “Greetings, Immortal. I’m a disciple heading out for training. Are there any mounts left?”

The stablemaster shook his head. “You came late. All the mature flying horses have been taken. What’s left are for official disciples only—you’re not allowed to use them.”

Gui Xu Palace was strict in this regard.

No matter how much Sang Li pleaded, it was impossible for them to give her a mount meant for official disciples.

But...

From here to Huashan City spanned three mountains—just flying there would take at least a month.

She furrowed her brows and asked hopefully, “Isn’t there any other kind of mount?”

“Other kinds?” The stablemaster stroked his chin, then clapped his hands. “There actually is one, but…”

“But what?” Sang Li pressed.

He chuckled. “It’s a donkey. About as fast as a flying horse—can travel ten thousand miles a day—but its temper’s not so great. You want it?”

At this point, having anything to ride was a blessing. No time to be picky.

She nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes, please bring it out for me.”

“Got it! Wait here a moment!”

The stablemaster went off to fetch the donkey.

Before long, he returned with it.

It looked no different from a regular donkey, except perhaps a bit rounder—chubby, content, and not too bright.

The donkey slowly munched on a carrot, gave Sang Li a sideways glance, and twitched its ears.

“Miss, take the reins.” The stablemaster handed them over and kindly advised, “If it refuses to move, just tempt it with a carrot.”

As he spoke, he handed her a big sack of red carrots.

She looked from the carrots to the donkey that wouldn’t even give her a proper look and felt… unsure.

Regardless, Sang Li led it out.

At the front gate, she mounted the donkey and patted its rump. “Hyah—!”

The donkey finished its carrot, yawned, and, lazily, folded its legs and lay down on the ground, closing its eyes as if ready to nap.

Sitting on its back, Sang Li panicked and patted it several times, but it didn’t budge.

Just then, a few disciples rode by on flying horses—majestic and grand.

Seeing her struggle, they cast mocking glances her way.

Sang Li felt utterly humiliated.

She rummaged through her storage pouch and pulled out a long rope, tied a carrot to it, and dangled it in front of the donkey to tempt it.

It worked.

Wanting the carrot, the donkey slowly stood up and walked forward. She carefully adjusted the distance to keep it just out of reach.

“Yes, yes, keep going.”

“Good donkey, good donkey.”

Sang Li patted its back. As it slowly stepped onto the transport bridge, she felt the plan might just work.

But...

It was so slow!!

Turns out this heavenly donkey wasn’t dumb. After a while of not getting the carrot, it realized it was being tricked.

Furious, it started braying and tried to buck her off.

In an instant, the bridge became a scene of chaos between her and the donkey.

At that moment, Ji Hengyu’s flying palanquin passed overhead, and the commotion caught Qi’s attention.

He lifted the curtain and glanced down, then raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that Miss Sang Li? Why is she riding that little tyrant raised by the stablemaster?”

“Little Tyrant” was the nickname the disciples gave the donkey.

It had been raised for 300 years, didn’t act like a proper donkey, was lazy, gluttonous, extremely arrogant, and refused to be ridden by anyone. Over time, it became something of a mascot at the stables.

Watching Sang Li battle the donkey, Qi couldn’t help but laugh. “Guess there really weren’t enough horses. At this rate, she won’t reach Huashan City in a year.”

Ji Hengyu glanced outside casually—

Just in time to see Sang Li get bucked off and land flat on her back.

He closed his eyes and said calmly, “Qi.”

“Yes?”

“Bring Yu Xue out and give it to her.”

Qi was stunned.

Yu Xue was Ji Hengyu’s exclusive celestial steed, and the only pureblood Sai Xue Mei in a thousand years.

Wherever it flew, flowers would bloom and frost would fall—it was incredibly eye-catching.

Ji Hengyu cherished it dearly.

The only downside to this spirit steed was its delicate upkeep. It drank only spiritual spring dew, ate phoenix flowers, and had an aloof temperament. After every ride, it needed a divine spring bath.

Because taking it out was so costly, Ji Hengyu rarely rode it himself and mostly kept it around for looks.

Qi chuckled, genuinely happy for Sang Li. “My lord, you really are fond of Miss Sang Li. I think so too—you’re almost six thousand years old. Time to settle down. Us Qigui at your age are half-buried in the ground already, but you—”

The more he said, the colder it got around him.

Qi looked over and met Ji Hengyu’s icy stare, which gave him instant goosebumps.

Ji Hengyu’s tone was calm: “Go on, why’d you stop?”

Qi immediately sat up straight. “I was speaking nonsense. Please forgive me, my lord.” He shot up. “I’ll go get the horse right now.”

Qi dashed off quickly. After he left, Ji Hengyu lifted the curtain once more and looked out.

Sang Li was still coaxing the donkey with a carrot.

She was completely humble, mumbling something softly, her expression pitiful and lowly just from a glance.

On a whim, Ji Hengyu used Sound-Gathering Technique—and heard what she was muttering.

“Brother Donkey, please take me along…”

She vowed earnestly, “If you take me, I’ll make Ji Hengyu your dad.”

Ji Hengyu: “…”