Chapter 83: Shouting "Scoundrel!"

Violet, violet, violet lotus.

The blood I had only just managed to suppress in my chest surged up again in an instant, rushing straight to the crown of my head. My ears and face burned so hotly it felt as though I was about to be roasted.

“Little Fish.”

He called me softly, pressing down even harder with his hand.

“Uh…” I answered in a low voice, cheeks ablaze. In my heart, I wanted to shout “scoundrel!” and push him away, but my body seemed to be under some spell, unable to move at all.

He did not stop pressing against my chest. A trace of confusion and curiosity flickered in his violet eyes as he stared intently at my chest, muttering, “Little Fish, there’s truly quite a bit of flesh on your chest. Why doesn’t some of it go to your arms or legs?”

“Heh, heh, well, Little Fish would also like to know that,” I forced out through gritted teeth.

When he slipped the luminous pearl into his sleeve and reached out again, intending to press both hands to my chest, clarity suddenly returned to me. Leaning back slightly, I dodged his advancing hands as naturally as I could, and took the one still resting stubbornly on my chest and set it aside.

Seeing his face—confused, with just a hint of disappointment—I lowered my head and said in a mournful voice, “Master, what should I do? I couldn’t help you find that blood-red lingzhi tree, the one that walks and hops and looks like a little person.”

He stood naturally at my side, my arm tightly linked through his, his steps matching mine as we slowly walked away, putting more and more distance between us and that little boy.

“It’s getting late now. The Yin energy on Mount Muyan is heavy, and there are many ghosts here. If we can’t find the blood lingzhi, so be it,” he said softly, a faint trace of melancholy in his voice.

I was overwhelmed with guilt for lying to him, and even more so because of his trust in me. Head bowed, I whispered, “I’m sorry, Master. This is all my fault. I’m just useless.”

If only—I thought—if only I had been ruthless enough to tell him where the blood lingzhi was hiding, perhaps his injuries would have healed. My heart ached for his wounds, but no matter how much I cared or felt guilty, I simply couldn’t bring myself to tell Zilian that the blood lingzhi was hidden nearby—and that it was none other than his beloved disciple, myself, who had come up with the idea for it to hide.

When I saw the white crane trailing behind us, head raised in a long cry, strutting with arrogant pride, I couldn’t help but grab Zilian’s sleeve and ask, “Master, where did you get this white crane?”

“White crane?” He looked at me, puzzled. “What white crane?”

From the way he looked now, it seemed he’d completely forgotten about the white crane that had been following him for so long.

“That one!” I pointed at the large white crane directly behind him.

Zilian turned to look, pausing for a moment in surprise. He watched it for a while, then lowered his head in thought, and finally nodded slightly, as if he’d just remembered, his expression one of sudden realization. “Oh, that! It’s the mount of Lord Gu Mo.”

Lord Gu Mo’s mount? I was puzzled. Wasn’t Lord Gu Mo stripped of his divine rank and his body destroyed? How could he still have a mount?

I looked up at Zilian and asked, “What about your mount, Master? Why don’t you have one?”

“Me?” His expression stiffened, and he turned away. “I don’t want to keep a mount.”

“You don’t want to? But don’t all immortals have their own mounts? Do masters have to raise them themselves?” I pressed on.

Zilian frowned slightly. “Mounts are nothing but trouble. I have no time or patience to care for one. When I need one, I can just borrow from another immortal. Isn’t that even better?”

“Mmm!” I nodded. That actually sounded like a pretty good idea.

Night was falling, and the white crane still followed us wherever we went. With Master already being striking enough to turn heads, adding a somber, melancholy crane that raised its neck to cry made us the center of attention wherever we walked—passersby stopped, turned, and stared.

“Master, how much longer before we reach Celestial Abode?”

If we kept being stared at like this, I was certain I would lose my mind before long.