Chapter 1634: Heaven's Mandate Seven Children Monster Hunting Chronicles 25

Chang Wuming pushed the door and entered, first being dazzled by the candlelight inside the room, he glanced; the candles were fine.

Bai Shiyun lay sideways on the bed, cold sweat pouring as he tended to his arm wound.

Bai Shiyun heard the sound, lifted his head, gave him a smile that didn't reach his eyes; his expression remained sorrowful.

"How are you?" Chang Wuming asked, stepping closer a few paces and handing him the porcelain bottle he carried, "This city is strange; don't use the medicine here."

Bai Shiyun wore only a thin single garment; hearing this, he slowly opened the porcelain bottle, still staring at Chang Wuming, as if trying to see through him.

"I was stopped by a beggar on the road; I had no silver." He gave a brief explanation; that wasn't the important part.

"I thought… we had already understood each other." Bai Shiyun said, his expression hurt, "Why are you avoiding me today?"

As he spoke, he stroked the jade pendant at his waist, as if thereby gaining a sense of security.

Chang Wuming's gaze also followed, his brow growing more resolute, he asked in a low voice: "Who exactly are you."

"A wandering doctor of the martial world, or some other identity."

Bai Shiyun froze for a moment, silently gripping the jade pendant tighter, wondering when he had been exposed; no wonder Chang Wuming suddenly changed his attitude.

Having survived in the deceitful court, even a close nephew could not resist the emperor's majesty; Bai Shiyun had long mastered flawless composure, and now it was merely a brief moment of astonishment.

"So, you doubt my identity."

Bai Shiyun gave a bitter smile, returning the porcelain bottle, "Alright, I'll tell you."

A flicker of tears shone in his eyes as he lifted his head to look at Chang Wuming's feigned cold stare, "I am an abandoned pawn of the imperial family, the son of Prince Yong'an, and also a wandering doctor of the martial world."

Chang Wuming frowned in bewilderment, "What?"

He hadn't expected Bai Shiyun to admit his identity so readily, and instead found himself at a loss.

"... Come sit over here," Bai Shiyun patted the bedside, his gaze downcast and his expression broken, "I will tell you slowly."

Bai Shiyun lowered the jade pendant at his waist; next to the quilt-covered, delicate gold-inlaid jade trinket, a faint dark blue gleam flashed and vanished, obscured by the trinket's faint yin energy.

A few walls away, Jin Chen lay in bed when he suddenly heard Ling Gun Gun let out a startled yelp.

【Soul Search plugin triggered, detected that the Host had lost a fragment of primal power, scanning……within a five-li radius.】

Ling Gun Gun was somewhat excited, having no time to stuff the candied hawthorn stick he was holding into his mouth.

【Host! I just sensed that it was your former power! But… it seems to be covered by something, working intermittently.】

Jin Chen turned over, yawning as he looked at Rong Zixu still gazing at Min Dong City street from the window, pinching and calculating, but sensed nothing.

However, within a five-li radius, as long as one remained inside Min Dong City, there was no escaping.

"Don't worry, elder brother, hurry up and sleep." Jin Chen half‑rose to urge Rong Zixu, "Even ghostly intent cannot be found overnight."

Little did he know that Rong Zixu wasn't thinking about vengeful spirits at all.

He stood before the night‑dark window, ink‑black hair flowing like a waterfall, his white Daoist robe neatly outlining a strong waist, clearly the bearing of a spirited swordsman, yet his gaze fixed on a nearby eave held hesitation.

What Rong Zixu was thinking about were the various ineffable burdens weighing on his heart these days.

No matter how he tried to straighten his thoughts, his mind remained in utter chaos; regarding Xiao Chen, he could ultimately no longer regard him merely as a junior brother to protect as before.

After a long while, the truly sleepy Jin Chen forcibly dragged Rong Zixu back to bed to sleep; when threatened—if the elder brother didn't remove his outer robe, he would help him do it—Rong Zixu swiftly took off his clothes.

They slept entwined, the candlelight extinguished.

In the darkness, the agarwood scent grew richer, the breath at the ear tranquil, full of warmth.

Rong Zixu was held around the waist, the arm resting at his waist also warm, gradually succumbing to drowsiness.

After midnight, the black qi within Min Dong City lay heavy and dense.

It obscured sky and sun, the clouds and mist drifting.

The ancient trees' branches, leaves, and veins fell and sprouted anew.

A red shadow flashed through the corridor of the inn; in the dimness, it was a pair of embroidered shoes, rich as blood, gliding lightly across the walkway, pausing before the door.

The mist spread, yet it entered only the dreams of two people.

In Rong Zixu's dream, everything he feared in his heart came true.

As Jin Chen had expected, his concern for Lao Si Chang Wuming was merely affection hidden beneath the brother‑hood bond; in the dream, Jin Chen no longer called him "the best in the world," but grew increasingly distant.

Rong Zixu wanted to draw near, but each time he could only see Jin Chen and Chang Wuming together; the warm, carefree youthful spirit remained, yet the object of reliance and possession had become Chang Wuming.

Nothing could be more tormenting than this entanglement of bitter fate.

Rong Zixu never realized he possessed such obsession and possessiveness.

He began unable to distinguish dream from reality, knowing only that repeated failed invitations, Jin Chen's gradually cold stare, and Chang Wuming's drawing his sword after noticing, were all that remained.

Rong Zixu felt all of this utterly absurd.

Unable to love, unable to hate.

Fellow disciples slaughtering each other, fear born of love.

"Elder brother… elder brother?"

Whose voice……

The carnage before Rong Zixu's eyes gradually faded, his gaze dazed as he looked at the mountain scenery.

Wrong—he should not be at Tianming Mountain now.

"Rong Zixu!"

Dream…

The faded image was wholly taken back by his pupils; Rong Zixu abruptly opened his eyes to meet Jin Chen's gaze full of concern.

This is the greatest difference from the dream.

Rong Zixu suddenly came to, feeling a chill all over, the loss of all pain as if lingering in his heart.

Jin Chen brushed the sweat‑dampened temples, his voice gentle and low: "Elder brother, what's wrong?"

"I……"

Rong Zixu opened his mouth, but his throat was hoarse to the point of no sound; seeing this, Jin Chen had wanted to get out of bed to pour water, yet Rong Zixu, sensing he was about to leave, instinctively clutched his wrist tightly.

"Where are you going?"

The hastily uttered voice was also extremely hoarse.

Jin Chen turned to look at him, explaining, "I'll pour you some water."

Noticing Rong Zixu's unease, Jin Chen leaned over and hugged him, coaxing, "Just outside the screen, I'll be back soon."

It looks like he had a nightmare, but Jin Chen didn't realize there were still nightmares in this world capable of scaring his unflappable senior brother—who would remain expressionless even if Mount Tai collapsed before him—into such a state.

After pouring the water and returning, Jin Chen naturally lit a candle, half-embraced Rong Zixu on the bed, holding the tea cup to his lips and slowly feeding him the drink, then asked, "Senior brother, what nightmare did you have?"