Li Luoning asked evenly, without haste or heat, "When did you come to know Miss Ruoying?"
"Hua Ruoying? She and Qingping were the two who rescued me last time," Mi Xingzhe replied.
"Oh?" Li Luoning's brows barely moved, but there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes.
"Funny coincidence, too. Both times I fainted outside, she was the one who picked me up." Mi Xingzhe thought back on it and found the whole thing absurdly comical—he actually laughed.
Then he glanced at Li Luoning's face, cold as carved ice, and coughed twice to cover his embarrassment.
"Understood.Now you can leave. " Li Luoning said, not looking up.
Mi Xingzhe answered out of habit. He turned to leave, then seemed to remember something and stopped, turning back.
That's it? Master's just… letting me off?
"Master… aren't you mad?"
"Yes." Li Luoning didn't pause his writing; he only answered coldly, head still lowered.
"Then… you won't punish me?" Mi Xingzhe dropped his gaze, fingers worrying at his sleeve.
"Would it be of any use?" Li Luoning finally glanced at him.
"I…" Mi Xingzhe choked on the words, lips pressing tight.
Damn. He's really angry this time. If I just walk out now… he might never speak to me again.
Grinding his teeth, Mi Xingzhe stepped forward, took the discipline ruler from the desk, and went to Li Luoning's side. He dropped to his knees and lifted the ruler over his head with both hands.
Li Luoning set down what he was doing and looked at him. His expression revealed nothing at all.
"Your disciple left without permission, brought trouble upon you, and even caused you injury. I accept punishment."
He raised the ruler a little higher.
Li Luoning took it, resting one end lightly in his palm. He looked down at Mi Xingzhe—still silent.
Feeling the ruler leave his hands, Mi Xingzhe spread his palms, tense, waiting for the blow.
Time passed.
Nothing fell.
Uneasy, he lifted his head.
Li Luoning only sat there, watching him in silence.
"I'm sorry," Mi Xingzhe said at last.
Li Luoning sighed. "Nian—do you understand that if there is a next time, we may not be able to get out so cleanly?"
"I… I know I was wrong." Mi Xingzhe remembered the fight on Wuming Demon Mountain. Without Hua Ruoying stepping in at the crucial moment, his master alone might not have been able to protect him.
"It's late," Li Luoning said softly. "After dinner, go rest early."
"Master… I won't be this reckless again." Mi Xingzhe looked up at him, gaze earnest and steady.
Li Luoning nodded, the hardness in his eyes easing. He reached out and helped him to his feet.
That night, a sound drifted in from outside.
Mi Xingzhe, who had been asleep, suddenly sat up. His eyes opened—pupils faintly red—as he rose like a marionette, expression empty, and walked toward the door.
The night wind was cold. Wearing only a thin robe, Mi Xingzhe wandered the courtyard in circles without emotion, pacing around and around.
He happened to run into Yun Qingyi returning from outside.
"Nian'nian? Nian'nian—why aren't you sleeping? What are you doing out here so late?" Yun Qingyi called from the corridor.
Mi Xingzhe didn't answer.
Yun Qingyi walked over, frowning. "Nian'nian? Nian'nian?" He patted Mi Xingzhe's shoulder—still no response. Mi Xingzhe continued the same looping steps, as if he couldn't stop.
"…Sleepwalking?" Yun Qingyi muttered, waving a hand in front of Mi Xingzhe's face. "He never had this before."
He sighed. "Fine. I'll bring you back first. If you catch a chill in the middle of the night, Master will peel my skin off."
He lifted a hand and chopped down toward Mi Xingzhe's neck, trying to knock him out and carry him inside.
But Mi Xingzhe didn't collapse. He kept walking, repeating the same motion, numb and unfeeling.
"What? No reaction?" Yun Qingyi tried again. And again.
Still nothing.
Just as Yun Qingyi started doubting his own strength, Mi Xingzhe stopped abruptly, closed his eyes—and his body tipped backward.
Yun Qingyi caught him in time and hauled him back to his room.
"Seriously…" Yun Qingyi grumbled as he settled him down. "You go out once and come back with sleepwalking. You're never easy."
Still uneasy, he threw a blanket over his shoulders and stayed in Mi Xingzhe's room to keep watch.
At dawn, Mi Xingzhe opened his eyes and saw Yun Qingyi asleep, face-down on the desk.
"Why is Senior Brother sleeping in my room…?" he murmured as he sat up.
Why is my head already dizzy the moment I wake up…?
"Achoo!"
The sneeze startled Yun Qingyi awake. He jolted upright, eyes half-lidded with sleep.
"Nian'nian, you're awake."
"Brother… why did you sleep in my room?" Mi Xingzhe rubbed his nose.
"Because of you," Yun Qingyi snapped, then shoved a handkerchief at him.
"For me? I've been sleeping fine lately." Mi Xingzhe wiped his nose and flicked his eyes toward the incense burner, wordlessly pointing it out.
Yun Qingyi stared. "Do you remember what happened last night?"
"Last night? After dinner I came back and slept. What happened?"
"Sleepwalking," Yun Qingyi said, weary. "You were circling the peach tree in the courtyard all by yourself."
"Sleepwalking? I don't have that!"
"Who knows—maybe you went to Wuming Demon Mountain and caught some turbid qi." Yun Qingyi shot him a look. "Let's see if you dare run around again. Tonight I'll brew you a cup of arborvitae calming tea. Drink it before bed."
Meanwhile, on Wuming Demon Mountain—
"Ninety thousand demon soldiers, and three thousand elite puppet troops, are ready," Hua Qiuyuan reported.
"Understood. Withdraw," Li Minghan said, waving him away.
In the hidden chamber, in only a few short days, Shentu Zhajia looked as if he had aged ten years. Even his hair had turned noticeably white.
He sat in meditation, forcing his qi to circulate. At first his face seemed calm—then his brow tightened, sweat beaded on his forehead, and with a ghastly expression he spat out a mouthful of blood.
"Brother, don't waste your effort," Li Minghan said as he entered, having caught the scene at exactly the right moment. He spoke lightly, drawing a handkerchief from his sleeve and offering it. "That gu… you can't force it out."
"What did you do to me?" Shentu Zhajia's eyes were murderous. He slapped the handkerchief away and demanded, voice thick with disgust.
"I just…" Li Minghan paused, then smiled. "Never mind. You only need to know this: stay obediently here, and nothing will happen."
He rested his chin in one hand, playing innocent, smiling sweetly at Shentu Zhajia as if they were sharing tea.
Shentu Zhajia recoiled, repulsed—and only then noticed the other hand, idly tapping a small medicine bottle.
"Qi Kuo?"
"Oh—Brother caught that?" Li Minghan widened his eyes in feigned surprise, then laughed, bright and delighted. He set the bottle between them like a toy.
Time rewound—years earlier.
After carving out his rib and "returning his bones," Li Minghan only remembered collapsing in the corridor outside Lakeside Pavilion. When he woke, he was already in a bed, wrapped in bandages.
He tried to move.
Pain ripped through him.
"Hss—!" He sucked in a sharp breath and forced himself upright. This was the Lakeside Pavilion bedroom—where he and Shentu Zhajia sometimes slept when they drank too much.
As his gaze swept the room, he saw Shentu Zhajia asleep at the desk.
"Brother…" Li Minghan whispered.
The sound woke Shentu Zhajia. He sprang up, saw Li Minghan's bloodless face, and hurried over.
"Minghan—lie down. Your wounds haven't healed."
He supported him and eased him back onto the bed.
"Thank you… for saving my life," Li Minghan said weakly. His lips were pale and cracked; the words came out like breath.
"Between us, don't talk about thanks." Shentu Zhajia's voice softened. "I've learned most of what happened these past days. You really…"
He'd rushed back the moment he heard. Sure enough, he found Li Minghan unconscious in the corridor the moment he reached Lakeside Pavilion.
He wanted to scold him—too absolute, too reckless—but looking at that fragile face, he couldn't bring himself to say more. The rebuke died on his tongue.
Li Minghan's lashes lowered. "I know what you want to say. But… you are not me—how could you know the bitterness of what I've lived?"
Shentu Zhajia's brows knotted. He sighed, then stood and left the room.
When the door closed, a tear slipped from the corner of Li Minghan's eye—silent, clean, carrying only grief he could understand.
I, Li Minghan, will never live as anyone's shadow, he swore to himself.
Months later, his injuries finally healed.
As Shentu Zhajia played him at a board game, he asked casually, "Minghan. What do you plan to do next?"
"Brother… I want to go to the human realm."
"That's good," Shentu Zhajia agreed. "The human realm's spiritual energy is messy, and there are countless things you've never seen. Traveling will do you good."
"If I go… I may not see you for a long time." Li Minghan's voice held both care and a faint, reluctant sadness. He didn't want to part—but if he stayed, Yingtian Dragon King would eventually find him.
"You still have the Drunken Demon Shield I gave you," Shentu Zhajia reminded him. "If you need me, use it to summon me."
Li Minghan touched the pendant at his throat and smiled despite himself.
"Be careful," Shentu Zhajia said, tone turning serious. "Don't trust people too easily. You're soft-hearted—don't let words fool you. And do not let anyone see you circulate qi or use spells."
"Minghan remembers."
The human realm.
Carriages rattled, crowds surged, hawkers shouted. The smoky warmth of mortal life was nothing like the sea-floor silence.
Li Minghan's lips lifted slightly.
Standing in the street, he slowly untied and removed the veil from his face. He closed his eyes and let the breeze take it from his fingers.
For a single moment, it was as if he'd been reborn under bright, warm sunlight—breathing air with no cages, no barriers, no hands pressing him down.
Then hoofbeats thundered closer.
Li Minghan opened his eyes and turned. A fine horse was charging straight toward him—galloping through the crowd without slowing.
"Good horse," he murmured.
"Move!" the rider barked, whip snapping, voice arrogant. "Stop blocking my road!"
Li Minghan's gaze sharpened. Black-gray demonic qi clung to the rider—something nonhuman wearing a man's skin.
The horse was already upon him.
Li Minghan shifted aside—just enough to let it brush past—then shot out a hand, seized the reins, and with one swift motion launched himself up. His boot slammed the rider off the saddle.
He landed cleanly on the horse's back. In the same fluid breath, he leaned over, snatched two jars of wine from a nearby stall, and rode off in a blur.
He kept going until the sky darkened. Only then did he stop beneath a tree outside the city.
He gathered branches, made a fire, and leaned back against the trunk, thoughts circling the past weeks—his hand unconsciously drifting to the empty place beneath his ribs.
"Brother—what do you think of my Tayian?"
A cool, clear voice drifted down from the tree opposite.
Li Minghan looked up. A man in white, with a faint purple haze to his robes, lounged leisurely on the branch. In his hand was a black-gold folding fan.
"Tayian?" Li Minghan echoed, puzzled. He glanced at the horse. Dark, powerful, with white hair at the fetlocks.
So the horse's name was Tayian. That meant the man before him was its true owner.
And yet—Li Minghan hadn't sensed him at all.
His cultivation is no weaker than mine.
"This is your horse?"
"My servant told me the horse I ordered was robbed on the way back." The man's fan tipped, pointing lazily at Li Minghan. "I suppose that was you."
"Your servant galloped through the city like a madman," Li Minghan said, taking a swig of wine. "Nearly ran me down. Teaching him a lesson by 'borrowing' one horse isn't excessive."
The man didn't look angry at all. If anything, he looked interested. His long, narrow eyes focused, studying Li Minghan from head to toe.
"If you like it, I can give Tayian to you," he said, unhurried. "Consider it a gift to make a friend."
"Oh?" Li Minghan raised a brow. "A fine steed like this—and you're willing to part with it?"
"If you and I set our eyes on the same horse, we must be kindred spirits," the man replied softly, the fan stirring slow air before his chest. "True understanding is rare. Trading a horse for a friend… however you count it, I profit."
Li Minghan's tone softened a notch. "May I ask your name?"
"My surname is Ou," the man said. "Courtesy name: Xianzhang."