Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Gourd

Inside the room, Yu Fei let out a heart-wrenching scream as she clung to Dong Zixuan’s corpse, wailing in grief. Master Yun Punishment, face as cold as iron, slowly stood up and walked out. There was no reason to stay any longer—he could only hope Yun Ling or Jiuxi might catch the murderer and send a signal so the villain could be apprehended. Unfortunately, after a long wait, what greeted him was Yun Ling and Jiuxi’s return, both empty-handed and disappointed.

Yun Ling’s beautiful eyes widened in fury as she roared, “What a shameless villain, daring to kill right under our noses! If I catch him, I’ll make sure he pays a thousandfold!” Her chest heaved with indignation, the agitation making her ample bosom tremble.

Master Yun Punishment said nothing, his expression dark and severe. He turned to Jiuxi, who nodded with resolve, “I will handle everything here properly.” Yun Punishment gave a nod, beckoning to Yun Ling, and together they made their way back toward the Temple of Heavenly Veins.

“Move! Move! Why won’t you let me in? Have you grown a lion’s courage or a leopard’s gall, daring to block my way? Do you need your young mistress to teach you a lesson?” Outside Yun Junfeng’s private courtyard, a wild, spirited girl raised her voice. Her long hair streamed behind her, and her violet eyes nearly sparked with fire—no one had ever dared defy her wishes before.

The two disciples on guard exchanged helpless glances, then looked to Nalan Xin’er. With a sigh of resignation, they chose the path of least suffering: let Nalan Xin’er in and prepare to face Senior Brother Jiuxi’s wrath themselves.

Nalan Xin’er tossed her head with pride, snorted, and strode into the courtyard. At this moment, only this little demoness would have both the nerve and the inclination to intrude. The moment she entered, she saw two people lying fast asleep. A fine sheen of sweat beaded her brow, her cheeks flushing bright red. She shouted, “What are you two doing? Get up!”

Wu Luohua was startled awake by her piercing yell, rubbing his eyes in confusion. He looked up to see Nalan Xin’er, whose tight clothing seemed about to burst at her chest. He drawled, “My lady, what now? You wouldn’t let us out, and now we can’t even take a nap?”

“You—you—” Nalan Xin’er pouted, retorting, “Why are you two sleeping together?”

Wu Luohua was momentarily at a loss. Mo Bai sat up slowly and grinned at Nalan Xin’er, “Come, Xin’er, come sit by your uncle. Don’t worry, I’m not interested in men.”

Muttering something about a lecher under her breath, Nalan Xin’er nevertheless strode over and plopped herself down between the two. Though young, her figure was shapely and firm. With a flourish, she produced her jade treasure pouch and, with a rustle, conjured a golden, mouthwatering chicken leg before them.

Mo Bai chuckled, surprised by the girl’s resourcefulness. Wu Luohua straightened up, “Xin’er, I’ve told you before, that chicken leg isn’t good for you—too greasy, bad for the skin.”

“Hmph! Don’t call me Xin’er—call me Sister Nalan!” she snapped, but then, with a regal wave, handed the chicken leg to Mo Bai. Her tone softened, “This is for uncle to have with his wine, to keep from getting bored.” Clearly, Nalan Xin’er already knew Mo Bai was being detained here.

Looking at this girl he’d only recently met in the Cloudsky Sect, Mo Bai felt a sudden warmth. Despite her mischievous reputation, her true nature was one of kindness and innocence. Perhaps she had not yet experienced enough of the world to understand the hardships and sorrows of a cultivator’s life.

“Thank you, Nalan—Sister Nalan,” Mo Bai replied with a smile.

“Uncle, you don’t need to call me that—make him say it!” Nalan Xin’er crooked a delicate finger at Wu Luohua.

“I won’t say it. If anyone says it, you should—I like hearing you say it.” Wu Luohua spread his elegant folding fan, speaking with a flourish.

“Fine, you refuse? Let’s see about that.” Nalan Xin’er’s playful spirit was roused, and a spark flashed in her violet eyes.

Standing nearby, Mo Bai felt that light pierce like a blade. He thought to himself, Nalan’s violet eyes are truly a legacy of spiritual blood—formidable, even without murderous intent!

Bloodlines of spiritual cultivation were coveted by all cultivators, but such gifts were always inherited, never acquired through study. Those with such unique inheritances possessed abilities beyond the norm, excelling in the spiritual arts. Among them, Nalan’s violet eyes were especially powerful.

Nalan Xin’er flicked a finger lightly at Wu Luohua. He immediately felt a numbness in his shoulder and, losing control, began flailing his limbs in an involuntary dance. As soon as her technique landed, she burst out laughing, “Uncle, let’s drink and eat while we enjoy the show!” With another wave, she produced a fragrant wine flask.

Mo Bai reached for the flask with a smile. “Xin’er, how much can you drink?”

Nalan Xin’er blushed at his intimate tone, her innocent face turning even shyer. “I…I don’t actually know how to drink.”

Mo Bai was surprised. What was she doing with such an ornate wine gourd if she couldn’t drink? “Then this gourd…”

Nalan Xin’er steadied herself, gazing at this mature man. The way he held the wine flask intrigued her. As the beloved granddaughter of the current Cloudsky Sect leader, she was a precious treasure, never once harmed or even allowed beyond the sect’s mountain. So she was incredibly curious about outsiders. At sixteen or seventeen, her heart was just beginning to stir. Faced with a man like Mo Bai—so different from the dashing Wu Luohua—her affections quietly shifted.

“This wine gourd belonged to my grandfather—his most treasured possession. A few years ago, when he went to cultivate in the Celestial Palace, he left it to me, and he told me that if I ever met…if I ever met…” At this, her cheeks turned crimson, and she faltered, unable to finish.

Wu Luohua, still dancing, couldn’t take it any longer. He cried out, “Brother Mo, please, help me!”

Mo Bai smiled faintly. Without moving, a sharp gust of wind seemed to whistle past, and Wu Luohua, as if released from a great burden, collapsed to the ground. Suddenly, a glint flashed in Mo Bai’s eyes as he fixed his gaze on Wu Luohua, startling the young man.

Mo Bai nodded thoughtfully. He had noticed something: though Wu Luohua had collapsed, he wasn’t even out of breath—a feat impossible for anyone without spiritual cultivation. This made Mo Bai reevaluate him.

At that moment, Nalan Xin’er, as if awakened by Mo Bai’s subtle display, gathered her courage, her voice soft and shy: “Grandfather said, if I ever met someone destined, I should give him the wine gourd. If that person can drink it all in one go, he’s a true hero—and then Grandfather would entrust me to him…” Unable to continue, she fled, vanishing in a flash, leaving no trace of the fierce little demoness behind.

Mo Bai was momentarily stunned, his attention drawn from Wu Luohua. Before he could react, Nalan Xin’er was gone. He picked up the mysterious wine gourd, examined it closely, and recalled her words. Lifting the gourd, he unscrewed the lid and drank deeply. After the first gulp, an odd expression flickered in his eyes, but he didn’t hesitate—he finished every last drop of the fine wine within.