The rain passed at just the right time, but that didn’t mean the path to Winding Python Ridge was any safer yet. Still, they couldn’t be bothered to delay their travels any longer. Although Langxia still looked a little queasy after taking his medicine, the two men set off again. Their pace was much slower as they traversed the slippery terrain.
Soon, the two of them reached the Western Banks.
Gui Yin got off the demonic beast and walked towards the river that gushed with slush and debris. He glanced to the head of the river and back down. His gaze caught onto faint traces of red, as well as a few pieces of cloth and what he assumed to be limbs. Langxia joined his side as he let out a low whistle.
“A rainy day is the perfect time to get rid of a corpse,” Gui Yin said.
Langxia glanced at him quizzically.
“The water’s waves are so sharp, they could chop up a body,” Gui Yin said.
“I’m sure many people discard corpses here,” Langxia agreed. “I hear that’s why it’s haunted.”
“It’s haunted?”
“Are you scared?”
“I’m not Ye Liuxing,” Gui Yin snipped. He glanced back at the river and frowned. “But how are we supposed to get over it like this?”
According to Langxia, the river’s water would continue rushing as the sludge and snow from the top of the mountains moved downwards for about one to two weeks. As cultivators, the obvious solution would be to fly over, but they couldn’t fly. They could try to swim, but their demonic beasts certainly wouldn’t be able to make it to the other side. It was easy for the two of them to brave the river, but they couldn’t abandon the demonic beats. If they did, they would have to continue the rest of their way on foot. So, if they couldn’t fly and they couldn’t swim, then what was left?
Langxia’s gaze flickered up the river. “Do you have anything that could block the water?”
“Anything that could block the water?” Gui Yin asked incredulously. “Are you crazy? Why would I have something like this?”
As Gui Yin asked this question, he was already shuffling through his bag. Langxia waited patiently as Gui Yin pulled out random trinkets and half-built prototypes. Soon, his arms were full of nonsensical objects, but none of them served the purpose he asked for.
“Your pockets are quite deep,” Langxia said.
Gui Yin glanced up. He tilted the bottom of his Qiankun Pouch towards Langxia. “I modified the talisman myself. The most expensive bag with an even more expensive price tag now.”
Langxia chuckled in amusement. He glanced down at Gui Yin’s mess in his arms and raised his brow at few of the more questionable projects.
“Ah,” Gui Yin finally tugged out a small cylindrical object. He turned it in his fingers. “Maybe this one?”
“That…what is it?” Langxia asked.
“It’s a boat,” Gui Yin said. He thought about it for a moment before tossing it into the pile in Langxia’s arms. “Or maybe not.”
Langxia’s brows furrowed, but he withheld his comments and watched as Gui Yin continued to rummage through his bag. “Have you ever thought about cleaning that out?”
“No,” Gui Yin said. “Why should I? What if I ever get bored on a trip and needed something to mess with? That’s where the best ideas come from.”
Langxia began to realize how Gui Yin’s room could look so clean.
Gui Yin’s brows furrowed. His finger caught onto something and he pulled it out. “This…could work.”
“What’s that one?”
“A portal dam,” Gui Yin said. He let out a soft sigh. “Maybe I should have just given this to Yu’er and Siyi.”
“Why do you have a portable dam?”
“There was a year when I had to get rid of a flood dragon that was making a ruckus in the lower realms,” Gui Yin explained as he turned the small device in his fingers. “I led the dragon away from the towns, but even if I did that, water would inevitably flow downstream. And you know how large dragons are.”
Langxia nodded. He did know how large they were.
“So, I made this to block the water flow before I went to fight the dragon,” Gui Yin said. He thought for a moment and glanced at the river. “Would this be too big?”
“It’s just temporary. It doesn’t matter if it’s too big.”
“It might not fit,” Gui Yin said.
He handed the reins of his steed to Langxia and walked over to the rushing river. He held out the small square and turned it one way and then the other.
“No, it should…” Gui Yin frowned slightly.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
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Gui Yin walked back over to Langxia with a delighted smile. “It still works! I haven’t used that thing in years!”
Gui Yin held open his pouch with an expectant expression. Langxia carefully began to put his babies back into the bag. Gui Yin glanced at the other man and smiled in amusement.
“What do you want to say?”
“I was just wondering,” Langxia said, “You said you remembered defeating a flood dragon.”
“I did.”
“If I remember correctly, you did that just a few hundred years ago,” Langxia said. “Was that before you created that device?”
Gui Yin’s smile grew. “You watched me for that long?”
“I had my curiosities.”
“Well, then, I’ll have to explain the device I attached to my soul.”
“We have time,” Langxia said.
“Alright,” Gui Yin chuckled. “My primordial spirit was separated, but I still had a sliver of consciousness left in this body. That’s how this body continued to operate despite my absence. Once I return, the memories sync back together,” Gui Yin thought about it for a moment before adding, “It’s a bit more complicated than that though. Originally, if my original body was in danger, then my primordial spirit would reunite itself. However, when I came back the first time around, there had been an accident.”
“An accident?”
“I designed it so that my primordial spirit would flow back into my original body bit by bit, but since it suddenly dragged a larger chunk of my consciousness back at once, there was a malfunction and the device took my return as another cycle of reincarnation,” Gui Yin explained. “So, when my original body was in danger, it sent me back to the twenty-first century. I guess if I had died, it would have actually saved me. But that wasn’t meant to happen.”
Langxia put the last of Gui Yin’s trinkets in the bag. He watched Gui Yin pull the pouch shut and tie it back to his waist. The man turned to him with a small smile.
“What would have happened if your original body had died?” Langxia asked.
Gui Yin stilled. “Well, I would have lived out the rest of my life as a normal human in the twenty-first century. I most likely would have edited a novel with a similar premise to this world, gotten into a few more crappy relationships, and then moved on to my next life without ever having memories of this one.”
His gaze flickered over to Langxia. There was an absentminded look that didn’t suit his normally starlike eyes. Gui Yin pursed his lips and gently tugged the rein of his steed from Langxia’s hand.
“But I’m not dead, so it’s fine,” Gui Yin said.
Langxia hummed. He followed Gui Yin back to the edge of the river.
“If you had died, I still would have followed you.”
Gui Yin glanced back. “It would have been wrong of you to pull me back into a world where I no longer exist.”
“I wouldn’t have done that,” Langxia said. “I’m saying I would have just followed you. I would have grown up in that world again and I would have gotten a job at that same coffee shop and I would have run into you.”
Gui Yin smiled. “That’s right. I never asked how long you were there for.”
“Twenty-two years? Was that how old I was?” Langxia tilted his head.
Gui Yin’s eyes widened. “Twenty-two years?”
“I went back a little too far, I guess,” Langxia said with a careless shrug. “I’m just glad I could still see flashes of the future in that dimension.”
Gui Yin laughed. “You were really there for twenty-two years? How could you stand it?”
“Well, my childhood was much easier the second time around, I’ll say that,” Langxia said.
They two of them stopped at the edge of the river. Gui Yin led his steed over the gurgling water first before Langxia followed. Once they were safely on the other side, Gui Yin pulled the dam out and tucked it away. Water rushed forward, sloshing and flooding the sides for a moment. Langxia’s brows furrowed as the water soaked into his shoes. The look of distaste made Gui Yin smirk, but he was generous enough to dry Langxia up with a quick flick of his fingers.
“And you shouldn’t forget,” Langxia said as the two men got back on their steeds.
Gui Yin glanced over confusedly.
“I’m Huigu Palace’s Palace Lord, the Ruby-Eyed Serpent’s descendant, and Quanjing Continent’s hidden hand, omnipresent and wily. When has there ever been an environment that I couldn’t mold into?” Langxia said. He met Gui Yin’s gaze with a cocky smirk. “So, you don’t need to worry about me suffering.”
Gui Yin bit back a laugh as they began their journey again. He pulled his steed closer. “When did you ever get this arrogant?”
“I’ve always been arrogant.”
“Have you?” Gui Yin asked, raising a brow doubtfully. “In my memory, you’ve always been quite polite.”
“In your memory, it should be that way,” Langxia said.
“You act differently around me?”
“I don’t act differently,” Langxia said. “Let’s just say there are people I respect and there are people who don’t deserve my respect.”
Gui Yin smiled. “Well, you’re making me feel special.”
“As the only person in this continent that can stand toe to toe with me in a fight, it should naturally be that way,” Langxia said.
Gui Yin sucked in a cold breath. He leaned over, his body pressing against the neck of the steed as he looked up at Langxia.
“Er’lang, is it because of your identity here? I’m starting to see the arrogance,” Gui Yin said.
Langxia glanced at Gui Yin. The dullness in his eyes had passed and the pain that seemed to be so deeply etched in his smile had vanished. Those peach blossom eyes looked up at him, gently folded as if tempting someone to lean forward and give him a kiss. The stuffy feeling in his chest faded, allowing Langxia’s smile to only grow further.
He leaned over as well and pressed a small kiss to Gui Yin’s forehead. He leaned back and watched those lovely eyes widen in surprise.
“It’s your own imagination,” Langxia confidently said.
Gui Yin straightened and watched as Langxia pulled forward. He scoffed in disbelief and urged his own steed up. “Can you believe this guy? How could he steal a kiss so suddenly?”
The path ahead was slippery and muddy. It was a good thing the demonic beasts Hongyan Tower owned were intelligent enough to be careful and not recklessly run through. As night came upon them, the two men made a decision to stay at an abandoned temple. The demonic beasts were tied outside as the moon rose to its peak.
Langxia returned with a few sticks. He crouched down to feed the fire and glanced over at Gui Yin, who was staring up at the towering stone statue.
As if to show the extent of which this god had fallen, the sign had been snapped in two and time had eroded its words. Although the main structure of the building was still intact, the furniture had long been eaten away by pests. Spiders made their homes here. And the statue of the god who owned this temple had toppled over, leaving only a broken torso, an unidentifiable head, and several limbs.
Still, at some point, someone must have stopped by. The statue, which should have been scattered about, was carefully placed back together, save for its head, and, now, it sat on the dusty altar, looming over them with a lifelessness that was far from what a god should be like.
“This temple is old, but it isn’t broken,” Gui Yin noted. “Someone must have been taking care of it.”
Langxia sat back. He glanced around the dirty temple with a hint of disgust. He had been so distracted while he was cleaning up feces just so he could have a place to sleep tonight that he didn’t care what god once held power over this place.
“I guess it’s clean.”
Gui Yin glanced at him with a chuckle. He walked towards the statue. “I meant that this temple was probably built a long time ago. It’s been abandoned for at least a hundred years. This statue is way older though, so the person who had taken care of it before then must have still worshipped this god.”
“Some worshipper. How could they have let the temple fall to this state?” Langxia said.
“The sign is also weird,” Gui Yin said. “I don’t think it’s written in the language of the Central Plains.”
Langxia glanced over. He brushed his hands together and made his way to Gui Yin’s side.
Gui Yin flicked his fan, blowing away the thick dust and revealing a set of barely discernable words. He squinted his eyes. He had learned a few words of the desert’s tongue, but these only looked similar. And the longer he looked at it, the more he noticed an odd energy surrounding those words.
“Fire,” Langxia said.
“You can read this?” Gui Yin asked, looking at Langxia in surprise.
“It’s not a language of this time period, but it’s a language I learned in my inheritance,” Langxia said.
Gui Yin’s eyes widened. “Wait, doesn’t that mean this temple is…”
“Far older than we first assumed,” Langxia said. He frowned slightly and crouched down.
Gui Yin followed him. He took his sleeve and rubbed it against the broken sign, driving away more of the dust so Langxia could get a clearer view.
“…Gilded?” Langxia muttered. “Gilded black?”
“Gilded black…?” Gui Yin looked at Langxia.
Langxia met his gaze and glanced back. “We should try and find the other half of the sign.”
Gui Yin and Langxia both stood. Gui Yin took one side of the temple and Langxia walked to the other end. The two men began to shuffle through the broken furniture and dilapidated temple. Gui Yin’s brows were furrowed tightly. He left the temple and walked around outside. His eyes lit up when he saw another wooden object that looked similar to the sign. He lifted it and brought it back inside.
“Er’lang!”
Langxia walked over. Gui Yin blew off the excess dust and watched as Langxia crouched down. He looked at Langxia curiously and then back at the sign.
“So? Who does this temple belong to?”
“The Gilded Black Scorpion,” Langxia said.
Gui Yin’s gaze darkened several degrees. “Qiao Ceng’s clan.”
“Should be. This is most likely his ancestor’s temple,” Langxia said. He glanced at the beheaded statue and then dropped the signs. He brushed his hands together and glanced at Gui Yin. “Should we head somewhere else?”
Gui Yin took a deep breath to compose himself. “This is the only shelter for miles. If we try to brave the storm, I’m afraid something unfavorable might happen.”
“Honestly, what’s the worst that could happen?” Langxia asked with a small chuckle. However, after seeing Gui Yin’s expression, he nodded in agreement. “Then, alright. We won’t go.”
After making up their mind, the two men started setting up camp.
As Gui Yin tended to the fire, he started to get a prickly feeling at the back of his neck. It reminded him vaguely of his first few meetings with Langxia. There was always a second, lingering presence in the back, staring down at him in ways that made his hair stand on end. He shifted from one foot to the other and straightened. He looked around cautiously.
“What’s wrong?”
Gui Yin softly shook his head. “I just…I feel like something’s watching us.”
“Something’s watching us?” Langxia echoed. He frowned and observed their surroundings. His eyes landed on the beheaded statue. “The only thing I feel is coming from there.”
Gui Yin glanced at the statue and shook his head again. “No, that’s not what I’m talking about.”
Langxia felt the anxiety rolling about in his chest. He shifted closer to Gui Yin and took his hand. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay in another place?”
Gui Yin glanced out at the raging storm. “Yeah…yeah, it’s fine. It must just be my imagination.”
He was probably just paranoid because of Qiao Ceng. There was no way that man would be able to know where they were at this moment. It was preposterous.
“Alright,” Langxia murmured.
He watched Gui Yin steadily as the man continued his chores.
Once they had finished their meal, they settled down for bed.
The moment Gui Yin closed his eyes, he fell into a deep sleep. But it wasn’t a restful one.
He tossed and turned, his forehead started to break out in a cold sweat, as visions of the past flashed before his eyes. One moment, he was on the arms of another man; another moment, he was sitting on the ground of a cold dungeon. His heart ached tremendously and his breathing grew ragged at some point.
He woke up once, then twice. And on the third time he woke up, he found Langxia already sitting up.
The two men stared at each other through the darkness as Gui Yin gasped for breath.
Langxia pressed his lips together and pulled Gui Yin close to his side.
“I-I don’t know—”
“It’s okay,” Langxia mumbled. He held Gui Yin against the crook of his neck. “You have me.”
Gui Yin listened to Langxia’s soft statement and hummed. His trembling hands calmed significantly and another wave of fatigue washed over him.
“Sleep,” Langxia said, his warm hand covering the back of Gui Yin’s head. “I’ll make sure you won’t have any more dreams.”
Gui Yin nodded drowsily. He closed his eyes and fell asleep again before he could even question why he was able to fall asleep right away.
Langxia glanced up at the headless statue. His eyes chilled.
What dirty, underhanded tricks these were.
yay! tech and talk of the dimensions!! power couple, truly
hhhhh statue, dont mess with Gui Yin’s dreams (⇀‸↼‶) he’s been through so much