Chapter 25: Indulgence

Shi Luoyi had only responded instinctively. Naturally, she didn’t dare enter the room again, fearing it might trigger some unpleasant memories for both her and Bian Lingyu. Unexpectedly, Bian Lingyu truly set down the half-carved bamboo piece in his hand, rose from the bed, and walked toward them.

She and Ding Bai stood there, watching as Bian Lingyu, with his clothes still half-open, approached them.

Bian Lingyu was tall. Before their trip to Qing Shui Town, she had vaguely sensed the height difference between them—but never had it felt so pronounced as it did now.

Realizing that she only reached Bian Lingyu’s shoulder, Shi Luoyi felt utterly disheartened. Why were even ordinary mortals in this sect taller than her?

Shi Luoyi wasn’t short. She remembered growing taller before her death, surpassing even the noblewomen of the mortal world. Yet, she still couldn’t match Bian Qingxuan’s height.

But that wasn’t the point.

She could feel Bian Lingyu’s gaze on her, his expression surprisingly calm—almost identical to how he had been while carving the bamboo earlier.

His eyes swept over her disheveled clothes and hair, as cold and deep as a still pond.

Under his scrutiny, Shi Luoyi felt somewhat embarrassed. It was her fault for not arriving on time; it was only natural for him to be upset.

Lowering her head, she carefully considered how to explain—not to argue—herself.

Bian Lingyu glanced at her, then lowered his gaze to Ding Bai and said indifferently: “Leave.”

Though his tone was perfectly calm, Ding Bai inexplicably shivered. Sensing the oppressive atmosphere, he bolted away in fright. If Bian Lingyu had merely seemed low-spirited at dusk, now he appeared truly terrifying.

The little boy had long forgotten his earlier bold promises to the senior sister. Once he fled, only Shi Luoyi remained to face Bian Lingyu alone.

To make matters worse, Bian Lingyu took another step forward.

He was so close that Shi Luoyi could almost feel the warmth radiating from his body. Instinctively, she took a step back, unable to believe that someone as pressuring as this could be Bian Lingyu.

Perhaps it was her imagination, but she thought she heard a faint sneer escape the youth before her.

In the next instant, her chin was seized and lifted.

Shi Luoyi met a pair of icy, emotionless eyes. The overwhelming pressure from Bian Lingyu reached its peak in that moment, sending a wave of fear coursing through her.

It was the kind of fear that high-level cultivators exuded toward lower-level ones—a suffocating presence that made movement nearly impossible and breathing slightly labored.

Even when she had humiliated Bian Lingyu, she had never seen such an expression in his eyes.

A flicker of fear arose in Shi Luoyi’s heart. Could being late really have made him this angry?

Bian Lingyu’s cool gaze swept over her disheveled clothing, messy hair, and the faint red marks on her neck. He calmly asked: “So, where did Miss Shi indulge herself today?”

Her cheeks stung under his grip, reminiscent of the night when Bian Lingyu had forced her to take those medicinal pills.

His tone was deceptively gentle, but his actions carried a cruel edge.

Unconsciously, Shi Luoyi furrowed her brows. If anyone else had treated her this way, she would likely have lost her temper. But facing Bian Lingyu, perhaps because of their shared history—or perhaps because of the storm hidden beneath his icy gaze, which spoke of suffering far greater than her own—she didn’t push his hand away.

Bian Lingyu silently locked eyes with her. For some strange reason, she felt as though her response held immense weight, capable of dragging him into hell in an instant.

Indulge? What a peculiar choice of words. Did he think she had gone gallivanting after school and arrived late because of it?

Shi Luoyi retrieved the carefully preserved ice lotus from her chest and earnestly corrected him: “I didn’t indulge in anything. Today, the sect required disciples to gather ice lotuses. I went to pick one. Look, didn’t you say you needed it for alchemy? I brought one for you.”

Bian Lingyu lowered his gaze to the ice lotus in her hand.

“Ice lotus?” His voice was soft, so soft that the tremor in it went unnoticed.

Feeling the sudden slackening of his grip, Shi Luoyi apologized awkwardly: “Sorry, I promised to come at dusk, but I couldn’t keep my word.”

Bian Lingyu’s expression remained unreadable as he silently stared at the red marks on her neck.

They looked too much like love bites, making it impossible for him to look away.

His gaze was hard to ignore, and Shi Luoyi felt a strange, tingling pain in the spot he was staring at. Raising her hand, she plucked a flower spirit from her collar.

Jiang Qi had already caught one for her, but another had remained hidden on her body. In her haste to return, she hadn’t even noticed it feeding on her blood.

The blade cultivator swiftly crushed the flower spirit: “I didn’t notice it was still on me—it must have been drinking my blood. You should stay back; don’t let them fly onto you. My immortal constitution can handle it, but if they feed on you, a mortal, it could be disastrous.”

With that in mind, she thoroughly checked herself again and sighed in relief upon finding no third flower spirit.

Bian Lingyu didn’t recognize these low-level spirits, but he could roughly guess what had happened. His expression remained calm as he murmured: “I thought you…” That your inner demons had resurfaced, and you sought comfort with someone… After all, the girl never seemed to care about such things. Those who cared would never be her.

Shi Luoyi blinked, failing to catch the latter half of Bian Lingyu’s sentence. But even in her daze, she could sense his oppressive aura gradually fading.

He was no longer angry about her tardiness. Seeing his pale complexion, Shi Luoyi asked: “Are you cold? Should we go inside, or do you want to put on more clothes?”

Bian Lingyu glanced at her and replied with a simple: “Mm.”

True to his word, he retreated into the room. After a while, he emerged wearing an additional layer of clothing.

Shi Luoyi had waited for quite some time, unaware of how much Bian Lingyu had needed to compose himself after the earlier misunderstanding. Having expended her spiritual energy throughout the day in the Extreme Cold Ice Ravine and rushed back for two hours, she was now exhausted. Her weariness overwhelmed her. Though her determination to keep her promise had kept her alert during the journey to Bian Lingyu’s courtyard, now that she saw he wasn’t holding her lateness against her, she finally relaxed—and with it, her entire body went limp, devoid of strength.

No wonder the ice ravine was considered the best place for cultivation training.

Indeed, returning from it left one utterly drained.

When Bian Lingyu reemerged, he had changed his clothes and resumed his usual aloof demeanor, carrying an air of distance.

Shi Luoyi stifled a yawn, rubbing her eyes. Her voice softened as she suggested: “It’s too late now. Can I come back tomorrow to refine pills?”

Bian Lingyu paused, looking at her, and replied: “Alright.”

Despite waiting all day for her arrival, only for her to show up now.

Shi Luoyi inwardly thanked him for his understanding, rubbing her eyes once more before preparing to leave and rest.

Hengwu Sect had a rule: after gathering ice lotuses, disciples were typically granted two or three days of rest. Exhausted, she could barely keep her eyes open as she staggered toward the gate. Just as she turned around, Bian Lingyu noticed the small white flower tucked in her hair.

Its placement was almost impossible for the girl to have done herself.

Bian Lingyu stared at her, his expression blank. He closed his eyes for a moment, suppressing something within himself. Seeing her nearly stumble out of the door in her daze, he finally spoke in a cold voice: “Shi Luoyi.”

The girl responded softly, turning back with a confused look.

“Come back and refine pills—right now.”

Shi Luoyi was certain she had misheard him. Exhausted as she was, she rarely felt inclined to indulge him and asked: “Didn’t you just say I could come tomorrow?”

Her tone carried an accusatory edge, pointing out his inconsistency. But seeing Bian Lingyu’s detached and unbothered gaze, she resigned herself and walked back. With a sigh, she muttered: “Alright, let’s refine them. Let’s go to the alchemy room.” After all, I owe you.

The two headed toward the alchemy room.

With her spiritual energy nearly depleted, Shi Luoyi saw how determined Bian Lingyu was about refining the pills. Since she disliked half-hearted efforts, she mustered her remaining strength to cooperate: “What do you want me to refine?”

He replied indifferently: “Duoqing Dan.”

“What?” Shi Luoyi thought she had misheard again and asked curiously: “Is there such a pill?”

Bian Lingyu questioned: “You’ve never taken it?”

The girl genuinely paused to think, then shook her head. Not only had she never taken it, but she had never even heard of it.

Bian Lingyu glanced at her, then after a moment handed her an old alchemy manual. Calmly, he instructed: “Turn to the second-to-last page and follow the instructions.”

Shi Luoyi assumed there was indeed a “Duoqing Dan,” but upon closer inspection, it was simply labeled as “Solidifying Pill.”

She chuckled—it seemed fairly simple. However, her gaze inadvertently drifted to the next page, and once it landed there, she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

Written in bold characters were the words: “Tianji Pill.”

Below it read: The Tianji Pill can completely eradicate inner demons and stabilize one’s Dao heart.

Shi Luoyi froze. Once inner demons took root, they were supposed to be impossible to remove. If such a pill truly existed, she would never have fallen into demonic cultivation in her past life. Wasn’t this exactly what she had been searching for all along? Overwhelmed with curiosity, she eagerly flipped through the rest of the book.

The text was written in a grand and meticulous style, detailing the effects of the Tianji Pill. At the bottom were the restrictions and methods for its creation:

Requires a top-tier alchemy master, supplemented by eight kinds of extremely yang spiritual herbs found in the mortal realm, and infused with the flesh and blood of a god to complete the pill.

Shi Luoyi: “….”

How convenient. Forget the yang herbs—even gathering eight of them sounded absurd. Though six of them happened to exist on Buye Mountain, which was under the sect leader’s control. As for “the flesh and blood of a god,” she suspected the book was mocking her. If gods truly existed in this world, they would have ascended long ago—who would wait around for her to carve them up?

If her father were still awake, he might qualify as a god—but if Master Shi Huan were to awaken, she wouldn’t need to fear inner demons in the first place.

She mentally scoffed and set aside this fantastical “Tianji Pill,” focusing instead on studying the Solidifying Pill that Bian Lingyu wanted.

She understood why he needed this kind of pill. His body looked far too frail—he hadn’t been able to walk recently, and earlier he had even coughed.

When reading, she was highly focused. Having almost no prior experience with alchemy, she memorized every detail, including the required ingredients and measurements.

The Solidifying Pill didn’t demand much from the alchemist, but its steps were incredibly intricate. Initially, Shi Luoyi managed to muster some energy, following the book closely. Gradually, however, her head began nodding off, her mind growing hazy. Finally, in a state of semi-consciousness, she leaned against the medicine cabinet beside the furnace and fell asleep.

Bian Lingyu set down the bamboo piece in his hand and turned to look at her.

The book Shi Luoyi had been reading had slipped to the floor, her skirt spread out around her. Her forehead rested against the cabinet, and she slept deeply, utterly at peace.

Bian Lingyu stopped his movements, his gaze lingering on her for a long while before settling on the small cut on her cheek caused by the ice flowers.

Her skin was pale, so the wound was barely noticeable. Yet on her face, it stood out starkly.

Bian Lingyu returned to his room and retrieved some medicine he often used. In the past, present, and likely future, he would only grow weaker, relying increasingly on these remedies.

He sat down in front of Shi Luoyi, his slender fingers lifting her face as he carefully applied the powdered medicine to her cheek.

Having exhausted her spiritual energy, Shi Luoyi’s innate immortal constitution allowed her to sense danger instinctively. Feeling none, she slept soundly, showing no signs of waking.

After applying the medicine, Bian Lingyu made no further moves, merely watching her silently.

More often than not, he harbored no impure thoughts toward her. His bloodline was unique—just as his mother had said, he was cold-hearted and aloof. The terrifying grip of obsession and emotion stirred him far more than any physical touch ever could.

For the past ten years, Shi Luoyi had been like the moon in his eyes—untouchable, admired by countless others. She truly was like that; if not for Bian Qingxuan’s interference, nine out of ten cultivators in the world would likely adore her.

Yet this moon had once belonged solely to Wei Changyuan.

The candlelight flickered as he noticed her sleeping deeply. He personally added charcoal to the brazier and fetched a blanket, draping it over her.

Perhaps sensing the warmth, Shi Luoyi curled up comfortably against the cabinet, her features serene.

Amidst all this commotion, the small flower in her hair had long since fallen to the ground. Bian Lingyu’s expression remained indifferent as he picked up the unfinished bamboo piece and sat beside her, continuing his work.

By midnight, the fire in the brazier had dimmed, and the warmth had faded.

The living conditions for outer disciples were far inferior to those of inner disciples. During the transition between winter and spring, the wind howled outside, and the cries of crows echoed from the rear mountains of Mingyou.

Perhaps due to the environment, she slept restlessly, shifting positions like a little insect, eventually kicking off the blanket.

Bian Lingyu set down the bamboo piece and went to cover her again. Sensing the warmth, Shi Luoyi tilted her head and collapsed into his arms.

Bian Lingyu lowered his gaze to look at her.

This was the second time Shi Luoyi had approached him willingly. The first time had been when Jiang Yan turned her into a puppet—though she understood nothing, she had awkwardly tried to comfort him.

This time, she wasn’t a puppet. She was alive, warm, and truly Shi Luoyi.

His eyes remained cold and clear, devoid of desire.

After a brief silence, he shifted back slightly. True to form, the girl unconsciously leaned closer, falling fully into his embrace.

Her strands of hair intertwined with his slender fingers. He lowered his gaze, gripping the lock of hair gently.

Finally, the moon had fallen into his grasp.