AUOF - 84

Ji Hengyu remained motionless, maintaining his initial posture.

Even Ji Wu didn’t expect his master to suddenly lean in for a kiss, nor did he anticipate Sang Li running off without saying a word.

The scene was somewhat awkward.

He awkwardly lingered in her consciousness, the usually lively Ji Wu now oddly silent.

This… was a bit tricky, wasn’t it???

Ji Wu considered offering some comforting words but, upon seeing Ji Hengyu’s expression, swallowed them back and chose to ignore the situation, acting as if he were invisible.

His reflection shimmered in the spiritual spring. Ji Hengyu absently touched his lips.

He had shared two intimate moments with Sang Li, but aside from primal release, they hadn’t… kissed, let alone intentionally kissed her cheek.

Compared to lustful encounters, this touch felt far more intimate and flirtatious.

It was strange.

He was always calm and composed, rarely losing control. To Ji Hengyu, today’s action was an uncharacteristic, frivolous act that would have been scorned in the past.

Knowing it was wrong, knowing it shouldn’t have happened, yet Ji Hengyu didn’t seem to regret it. In fact, a subtle tenderness lingered in his heart.

The little fox hadn’t hit him in anger or cursed him in disgust; she simply turned and ran, indicating she didn’t reject him.

A faint smile tugged at his lips as Ji Hengyu followed her.

The smile carried an ambiguous meaning, leaving Ji Wu flustered, his doubts tangling around him like a mess of threads. Ji Wu was never one to keep things bottled up, and after enduring for half a day, he couldn’t resist connecting his consciousness with Ji Xun, who was still in Gui Xu.

It was nearing the end of the year.

Even in the upper heavens, the end of the year brought chaos similar to the mortal realm. Piles of miscellaneous tasks awaited attention, and a report summarizing Gui Xu’s major events for the year needed to be prepared for the divine domain.

Even if Ji Xun didn’t eat, drink, or sleep, he was still overwhelmed by these chaotic affairs.

When Ji Wu’s consciousness intruded, Ji Xun was listening to Yue Zhuqing’s string of reports. Though he noticed Ji Wu’s presence, Ji Xun didn’t have time to acknowledge him.

Ji Wu persistently nagged until, seeing Ji Xun ignore him, he blurted out bluntly: [Master kissed the little fox.]

He deliberately exaggerated, changing “cheek” to “lips,” and feeling it wasn’t enough, added: [Master initiated it.]

Afterward, he proudly waited for Ji Xun’s reaction.

Ji Xun sat at the desk, penning signatures, paused briefly, then slowly wrote Ji Hengyu’s name on the last page.

Ji Xun’s handwriting matched Ji Hengyu’s.

Both were windswept and moonlit, clear yet not lacking in wild elegance, much like their personalities.

The three characters appeared normal, but there was a slight, barely noticeable hastiness in the final stroke.

His eyes remained calm: “Go on.”

Misinterpreting his encouragement, Ji Wu enthusiastically recounted Ji Hengyu and Sang Li’s progress.

Ji Xun listened, his face betraying no emotion.

Standing before him, Yue Zhuqing calmly reported: “Three months have passed since the last punishment day. The conditions in Yuan Prison remain stable. This month should be like the last; even without Fu Xi’s blood, we can safely endure the punishment day.” Here, Yue Zhuqing expressed some surprise: “This is the longest period Gui Xu has maintained stability in a thousand years.”

Previously, stability lasted only two months, but this time it was three. Yue Zhuqing believed things were heading in a positive direction.

Seeing Ji Hengyu’s serious expression, she quickly shifted topics: “Additionally, the divine domain has sent invitations for the Immortal Feast in three months. Here is our list of gifts. Please review it, and if there are no adjustments, I’ll begin preparations.”

The Immortal Feast occurred once every three hundred years.

For the upper heavens, this was a significant event. Invited immortals would visit the divine domain to meet the three gods. The divine domain possessed numerous treasures; drinking just a sip of nectar from the Jade Pool could equate to over a century of cultivation.

Many immortals viewed invitations as honors, exchanging gifts during the feast to demonstrate friendliness, though mostly to flaunt their sects’ strength.

The feast was rife with competition, lasting seven days. For Ji Hengyu, it was the most irritating affair. He had declined twice before, citing poor health, but with Gui Xu currently peaceful, continued refusal might raise suspicions. Even if reluctant, he had to attend.

Ji Xun casually glanced at the list: “Leave it to you.”

Yue Zhuqing scrutinized him suspiciously, sensing a lack of enthusiasm from her lord.

She slightly bowed: “Then I shall take my leave.”

At that moment, on the brink of losing control, Ji Xun heard Ji Wu mutter: “The little fox barely passed her trial. Who knows if she’ll be bullied by those burly demon suppressors after entering…”

Something stirred within Ji Xun, and he found a sliver of remaining rationality. “Wait,” he called Yue Zhuqing back.

Yue Zhuqing turned: “Does my lord have further instructions?”

Ji Xun remembered all the items on the list. Among the many rarities, none were suitable gifts for a woman. After a brief hesitation, he said: “Keep the Flowing Cloud Jade.”

Flowing Cloud Jade was a rare gemstone from immortal mountains. Though rare, it lacked spiritual power, valued only for its beauty and scarcity.

Though surprised by the intent, Yue Zhuqing nodded: “I’ll bring it to my lord later.”

“Mhm.”

Ji Xun lowered his head, resuming his silent review of documents.

Only when her footsteps completely faded from Shuoguang Hall did Ji Xun’s hand holding the brush slowly stop.

He didn’t fully release the brush, his body suddenly frozen in place, his gaze heavy with suppressed emotion.

Ji Wu: [Stunned? Did you hear what I said?]

Ji Xun said “No,” unclear whether responding to the first or second part.

Ji Wu’s consciousness drifted aimlessly in his mind, like a small boat tossed on the sea, heedless of Ji Xun’s thoughts: [It’s good. The little fox and master are compatible, now mutually affectionate. Once master retrieves his heart, with the little fox, even facing karma and venom curses together, they can…]

Before Ji Wu finished, a powerful surge of spiritual energy abruptly shoved him out.

The force came from Ji Xun, leaving him dizzy and disoriented. If not for the soul thread linking both to Ji Hengyu, Ji Xun would have torn him apart.

Infuriated, Ji Wu fearlessly charged back: [Are you crazy?!]

Ji Xun suppressed his emotions: [Leave.]

His tone was calm, not sounding like a rebuke.

Ji Xun was usually taciturn, occasionally sarcastic, but never so blatantly confrontational and… disdainful.

Ji Wu, quick-tempered by nature, didn’t understand why and wouldn’t tolerate it. His consciousness transformed into a blade, attacking Ji Xun’s mental realm without hesitation.

Ji Xun grunted, then closed his eyes to resist.

Evil souls clashed fiercely, unreservedly battling in the confines of this body’s consciousness.

Though less direct than physical combat, battles of consciousness were more intense.

The loser would be consumed by the victor’s consciousness—a fight to the death.

Initially, Ji Wu was merely venting frustration, but seeing Ji Xun genuinely resorting to lethal force infuriated him: [Damn it! What’s gotten into you? Do you really think you’ll sit in this position forever? Let me tell you, you’re just a wisp of energy! You’re not even a ghost! Temporarily possessing a heart doesn’t make you like others!]

As his consciousness invaded, Ji Xun suddenly fell silent, ceasing resistance.

Realizing something was amiss, Ji Wu hastily retracted his attack, but it was too late. Ji Xun’s spirit and body began to dissipate.

Simultaneously, Ji Hengyu acutely sensed the clash between the evil souls.

A subtle sense of constriction arose in his empty chest, his awareness following the fluctuations. Ji Hengyu closed his eyes, a wisp of his soul crossing the spiritual platform to enter Ji Xun’s body.

In Ji Xun’s mental realm, Ji Hengyu saw chaos and raging winds.

He extended a sliver of his own consciousness to help stabilize the situation. Once stable, he asked: [What happened?]

The three communicated directly through consciousness within Ji Xun’s mental realm.

Though only voices, with no visible expressions, a subtle awkwardness subtly permeated the air.

Ji Wu didn’t want his master to know about their conflict, fearing complications, and quickly covered: [It’s just that there were too many tasks, plus the Immortal Feast invitation arrived, and Ji Xun got annoyed. I tried to console him, and we ended up fighting. It’s nothing serious.]

The Immortal Feast…

Thinking of the nauseating faces of those from the divine domain, it wasn’t just Ji Xun; even Ji Hengyu felt irritated.

But he sensed there was more.

Just as he was about to inquire further, Ji Wu interjected: [Master, shouldn’t you check on the little fox?]

That immediately reminded Ji Hengyu.

He indeed had no time to meddle with the evil souls. It was deep night, near Gui Xu’s border; a lone little fox wandering outside wasn’t safe.

After a moment’s contemplation, Ji Hengyu withdrew his consciousness, telling Ji Xun: [I’ll return tomorrow. Bear with it for now.]

Assigning such tedious tasks to an evil soul truly inconvenienced him.

Ji Xun remained silent.

Once certain Ji Hengyu wouldn’t return, Ji Wu softened his sharpness, earnestly advising: [I admit I was harsh earlier, but master will soon return. Whatever you’re thinking, put those thoughts aside for now.]

The desk was piled high with dense books and scrolls.

Behind him hung a giant glass shadow wall, not overly intricate, depicting a lone red-crowned crane amidst clouds, evoking desolation.

Ji Xun silently bowed his head, his voice soft in the vast palace: “If… I don’t want to set aside those thoughts?”

Ji Wu was stunned: [What did you say?]

“Nothing.” Ji Xun blinked, returning to normal, arranging the scattered books neatly: “Go to master’s side. When you and master return, I’ll be done.”

Ji Wu still had doubts but couldn’t stay indefinitely.

He worriedly lingered, finally withdrawing his consciousness reluctantly.

His mind emptied.

Ji Xun slowly raised his head, his gaze extending beyond the palace doors.

Gui Xu Sea lay beyond the horizon, and every December was spent amidst heavy snow.

The palace doors weren’t fully closed, and snow dust swirled in with the wind, casting deep frost on the floor.

Ji Xun didn’t know where to rest his gaze.

Though a puppet body shouldn’t feel cold, even wrapped in a thick cloak with fur lining snug against his body, he still felt chilled.

Ji Xun reached into his chest, retrieving the heart nestled there.

The venom flower thrived within the heart chamber, blooming brilliantly, truly beautiful.

Unable to resist, Ji Xun kissed it, cradling it gently with both hands, pressing it tightly against his chest.

Unassailable by wind and rain, he felt profoundly warm.