Chapter 10

Chen Hang slightly raised his brow.

Unlike the elegantly dressed and crowned Yuan Xing.

Chen Ying’s attire was plain and simple—a stark white cloth robe, his hair bound with a blue hairpin, yet half his left face was obscured by a black jade mask, leaving only his eyes visible.

“My former self had no biological brothers. Could this Chen Ying be from the Chen clan? No—even if he were, my blood would not stir so violently. What is Chen Ying’s true origin?”

“Young master, please.”

Chen Ying stepped aside to gesture.

The half of his face exposed beyond the black jade mask was indeed refined, but to claim any resemblance to Chen Hang’s features would be sheer fantasy.

“It seems I have no choice but to comply.”

Seeing he could no longer evade it, Chen Hang fell silent. Chen Ying smiled apologetically, wrapped Chen Hang in his true qi, and shot straight upward into the sky.

“Flying off so fast—going to flatter the Master again? Whore!”

Yuan Xing snorted coldly and swiftly summoned a cloud to chase after them.

When a verdant heavenly palace appeared in the clouds, the true qi’s flight slowed and descended into one of its halls.

The grand hall had already arranged seating for guests and hosts; as Chen Hang entered, each person’s expression varied.

Ai Jian on the black crane jade dais wore an indifferent, detached face, yet his fingers, clenched beneath his sleeves, betrayed a tension far from his calm exterior.

“The Sect Master, Yan Feichen, Gu Jun, Yuan Ji Shangren, and this woman… All the high-ranking cultivators of the Xuanzhen Sect are here. What are they discussing with her?”

Chen Hang scanned the room without expression and bowed to each in turn.

Yan Feichen still wore his usual loathing and cruelty, showing not the slightest effort to conceal it here.

Gu Jun merely nodded slightly.

But Yuan Ji Shangren seemed to have lost his wits—he warmly greeted Chen Hang, then hurried over to his side and bowed with a fawning smile to the beautiful woman.

“Lianshi, what do you think? Is this disciple of ours the destined son of the Yin Emperor?”

Pearls hung from her ornaments; her colorful sleeves exuded a faint, sweet fragrance.

The beautiful woman carried a subtle, orchid-and-musk scent; she propped her elbows on the jade table, cradling her delicate face in her hands, ignoring Yuan Ji Shangren entirely, her gaze fixed raptly on Chen Hang, her eyes brimming with tender longing.

“… ”

Chen Hang barely bowed to her, and then his heart plummeted.

He knew this gaze all too well.

When Yan Zhen was alive, she had looked at his former self with exactly this expression—almost obsessed.

But this woman’s gaze was even more feverish, more greedy—as if he were a delicacy, a dish she longed to devour whole, savor every morsel, then relish the taste again.

“After barely reborn into this life, must I now relive my former self’s fate?”

Chen Hang clenched his fists silently:

“I fought with all my strength just to attain fetal breathing—yet before these great cultivators, I am still nothing but a jewel, a plaything to be fondled and judged at will…

If this face brings no advantage to my cultivation, but only endless trouble, it would be better to destroy it outright!”

At this moment,

Yuan Xing and Chen Ying had already retreated quietly behind the woman.

Sensing Chen Hang’s desperate resolve, Chen Ying lifted his head with interest, his eyes flickering faintly.

“Fascinating. Chen Hang? No wonder—no wonder my blood stirred just now.”

Slowly, beneath his black jade mask, his half-face curled into a sinister smile utterly unlike his earlier demeanor:

“Such ruthless, resolute nature—if you too are the son of Yu Shu, then everything makes sense. After all, our family is famously united across the Nine Provinces and Four Seas…”

In the grand hall, where only Yuan Ji Shangren’s babbling broke the silence,

Chen Hang’s face was grim, his expression frozen and cold.

Long moments passed before the woman reluctantly tore her gaze away, reluctant and lingering.

“Pity. Though the young master shines as bright as sun and moon, his destiny is not that of the Yin Emperor…”

The woman shook her head.

She seemed both pleased and disappointed, though the pleasure clearly outweighed the regret.

“What?!”

The first to speak was not Yuan Ji Shangren, but the ever-calm Ai Jian.

“What nonsense are you spouting! Didn’t you yourself say the Yin Emperor must be of exquisite beauty? A paragon of celestial grace!”

Ai Jian rose abruptly from the black crane jade dais, knocking over a maid’s silver tray—wine and spiritual delicacies spilled across the floor:

“If a man like him, a once-in-five-hundred-years prodigy from the Southern Region, isn’t the Yin Emperor, then who is? Jun Yao? Yu Shu Zhenjun? Could they surpass this boy? Absurd! Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!”

“Little Jian, calm down.”

The woman pulled out a cone-shaped magic treasure and sighed:

“This is the artifact entrusted to me before I came to the Southern Region. If the Yin Emperor were within half a li, this jade cone would glow—but now…”

Ai Jian coldly scanned the inert jade cone.

With a sharp sweep of his sleeve, he sat down, eyes closed, indifferent.

“This… this…”

Yuan Ji Shangren was flustered, sweat pouring down: “Lianshi, did you make a mistake? Test again? Try once more?”

“Alas, young master, though you’ve missed a great heavenly fortune, it may yet be a blessing. My niece has cultivated since childhood, ignorant of human joy and pleasure—how could she compare to me, who understands warmth and cold?”

The woman still ignored him, her gaze fixed tenderly on Chen Hang, radiating a hundred charms:

“Would you like to become one of my favored guests, like these brothers of yours? Don’t worry—once you wear this ‘Deheng Ring,’ Sister will cherish you deeply. Whatever you desire, I can find for you.”

She held up a small bracelet, her voice sweet and syrupy:

“You wish to cultivate? To join the Ai family of Shangyu? Or the Huzhao Sect? Say the word, and I’ll give you the finest qi-condensation methods, or even the foundational scriptures that lead straight to the Primordial Spirit and return to emptiness—all yours.”

Before Chen Hang could speak,

a voice suddenly entered his mind.

“Don’t accept. Once you wear the Deheng Ring, your life and death will no longer be your own—you’ll have no secrets from her!

Come, don’t let your expression betray you. Follow me—repeat after me. I’ll teach you how to refuse without angering her…”

The voice in his mind was Chen Ying’s.

Chen Hang dared not hesitate. Ignoring how Chen Ying could freely transmit thoughts before so many Cave-Enlightenment Lianshi, he immediately repeated the words Chen Ying taught him, word for word.

After speaking, he followed Chen Ying’s instruction and feigned terror, bowing deeply to the ground. The woman, though displeased, strangely said nothing further.

Her strange demeanor made even Ai Jian glance over curiously.

“Thank heaven. Thank heaven.”

Chen Hang exhaled in relief.

He saw Yan Feichen beside him, visibly relieved, and his gaze shifted—suddenly an idea struck him.

“Sect Master, I have a request!”

Ai Jian frowned, about to dismiss him, but noticed Chen Hang, though bowing to him, was gazing toward Yan Feichen.

He thought for a moment and guessed what Chen Hang sought.

“Speak.”

Ai Jian suddenly grew interested: “What is your request?”

“Since ascending the mountain, I’ve devoted myself entirely to the Dao and haven’t returned home for three years. Recently, my clan brother was brutally murdered by the hermit Xu Xie, leaving me weeping day and night, filled with dread—I feel I cannot face his parents. Therefore, I humbly beg the Sect Master’s permission…”

Chen Hang bowed his head:

“Please allow me to descend the mountain and bury my clan brother’s body in our ancestral tomb.”