Tu Qin then seemed to recognize him, slightly lifted the corner of his lips, and smiled. “Mu Jun.”
Mu Daoying gazed at him quietly, a tumult of mixed feelings surging in his heart, along with a faint trace of displeasure.
It was not aimed at this man’s personality, but simply at his status serving Liu Qiao’e.
He retreated two steps, putting distance between them. With his sleeves hanging low and his gaze lowered, he replied coolly and faintly, “A moment ago, I was careless and bumped into Brother Tu, startling the young attendant into shattering the flower vase. Please forgive me, Brother Tu.”
“You!” The young attendant glared furiously. “Insolent! You dare twist the facts?! It was clearly you who crashed into us and broke the flower vase. Our male lord saw it with his own eyes. And you dare frame us to his face?”
“Male lord, isn’t that right?”
“Exactly.” Tu Qin nodded casually. “This humble one saw it personally. Brother Mu, that was hardly honorable of you. The famed Jade Sword True Heart, yet when you make a mistake, you push the blame onto a child?”
Mu Daoying pressed his lips together.
Qingxu, as the sect leader of Jade Clarity Temple, had actually defected and abandoned the sect in plain view of everyone. It was the height of absurdity.
He had joined forces with Liu Qiao’e and the Demonic Sect to seize the Mountains and Rivers Sword. Even cut off from the outside world as he was now, Mu Daoying could imagine the dire straits Jade Clarity Temple had been left in.
Once the Demonic Sect obtained the Mountains and Rivers Sword, their next target would surely be the Trace World Mirror.
Liu Qiao’e had been coming and going at odd hours these days, likely for that very reason.
Joyous Union Palace was probably right in the crosshairs of the righteous sects’ crusade by now.
The outside world was in an uproar.
Unfortunately, he was trapped here, forced to vie for favor with her male pet.
He closed his eyes slightly, feeling an indescribable sense of absurdity and exhaustion.
Knowing full well that Tu Qin was deliberately making trouble, he had no interest in playing along. He cut straight to the point. “Brother Tu, how do you plan to make me compensate this time?”
His calm, weary demeanor only drew a cold laugh from Tu Qin. “Brother Mu is truly pure as ice and jade! You make it sound like our mistress and servant are ganging up to bully you.”
“The pure stay pure, the turbid stay turbid. Heaven will sort it out.” Mu Daoying said faintly.
Seeing his detached and aloof manner, laced with sarcasm, a flash of jealousy appeared in Tu Qin’s eyes!
Did Mu Daoying not know that he was already a thorn in the side of all the male lords in Myriad Fragrance Hall?!
Before, they had been unsure of the Old Mother’s attitude toward him, unable to gauge his depths, and thus dared not act rashly.
But now, news of Jade Clarity Temple’s sect leader defecting had spread across the world. A sect leader turning traitor—truly laughable!
The story of Mu Daoying being dragged back to Joyous Union Palace on the Old Mother’s orders had also spread far and wide.
With no cultivation, no backing, and no favor from his lord, what gave him the right to be so arrogant?
With a glance from Tu Qin, the young attendant was emboldened. He shouted harshly, “Lord Tu has more seniority than you and higher status. This is a grave offense of the lowly against the noble, and you show no remorse. Twisting facts and framing a fellow disciple! Kneel at once!”
Mu Daoying did not move.
Though he was good-tempered and always accommodating toward Liu Qiao’e, that did not mean anyone could insult him.
The young attendant flew into a rage and lunged forward to grab him.
But Mu Daoying sidestepped lightly, evading without even a brush of his robes.
The young attendant’s face flushed red with anger. Just as he was about to erupt, he suddenly looked ahead, his eyes lighting up. “Old Mother!”
Mu Daoying stiffened slightly and saw Liu Qiao’e approaching the three of them.
She seemed to have just returned from outside the palace, travel-worn, with blood staining her sleeves.
Liu Qiao’e glanced at the scene before her and asked coolly, “What happened?”
Seeing her, Tu Qin immediately changed his expression, revealing a brilliant smile. “Old Mother! You’re back!”
He was not old, with handsome features. His toothy grin made him look innocent, elegant, and endearing.
“It was nothing major.” Tu Qin’s gaze swept deliberately over Mu Daoying as he smiled. “Three days ago, didn’t the Old Mother give me a flower vase? Thinking the weather was fine today and the courtyard flowers in full bloom, I carried the vase to clip some and arrange them. But then I ran into Brother Mu…”
He showed a hesitant look. “The flower vase shattered…”
Liu Qiao’e raised a brow and turned to him. “Is that true?”
Mu Daoying said nothing, his expression distant.
Three days ago—he suddenly recalled that on the night of that day, Liu Qiao’e had come to find him.
He had jolted awake from a dream, only to find her already astride him. Seeing him wake, she hurriedly bent down to cover his mouth, pulled off her undergarment to bind his hands, giving him no chance to speak.
After satisfying her desires, she left without so much as a glance at him, still bound to the bed.
The memory hit him suddenly, a pang in his heart, a sour taste. So during the day that day, she had been entangled with Tu Qin, whispering sweet nothings…
How could she then come to him that night as if nothing had happened?
Snapping back to reality, he met Tu Qin’s flashy brows and provocative gaze.
He knew Tu Qin was glossing over the details, painting a picture of him jealous and smashing the vase on purpose. But facing Liu Qiao’e’s gaze, Mu Daoying felt disheartened, suddenly losing the will to argue.
Didn’t she know well enough whether he would do such a thing?
He cupped his hands, weary and listless, and said faintly, “Ying was lost in thought just now and carelessly bumped into this young attendant, shattering the flower vase by accident. The Old Mother is wise and divine; surely you can discern the truth and clear Ying’s name.”
Tu Qin grew anxious.
Liu Qiao’e found it amusing inwardly: This fool.
But he made up for it with his beauty—a perfect vase of a man.
She disliked overly clever men, having suffered enough from them, and clever men were often arrogant.
“The flower vase is precious, but Lord Tu is this venerable one’s most cherished beauty.”
Liu Qiao’e shifted tone, looking at Mu Daoying with a half-smile. “Now, this venerable one’s most cherished beauty is angry at you. Mu Jun, condescend a little, indulge him, and coax him?”
“Kneel.” She said coldly.
Mu Daoying met her gaze steadily. The aching in his heart slowly calmed, replaced by a chill that spread through his body.
It was as if his heart had been dipped bit by bit into ice water, the cold seeping into his teeth and bones.
Liu Qiao’e knew what he was thinking.
For someone as lofty as Daoist Mu, trapped in the rear palace squabbling with men, trading barbs—it must be worse than life or death.
Seeing their staring contest, Tu Qin panicked a little. With Liu Qiao’e not stopping him, he seized the chance and ordered Mu Daoying to kneel on the gravel path.
Mu Daoying indeed did not want to see the two of them anymore. He retreated to the gravel path but did not kneel.
He stood tall, even straighter and more upright than before.
Tu Qin flew into a rage and called over several palace servants to seize him.
The rain-soaked gravel path was slick and icy.
The palace servants came with staffs, the thwacks falling like raindrops on Mu Daoying’s back.
He stood straight.
One staff, then another.
He staggered a step.
After a hundred strokes, Mu Daoying finally bent at the waist. His still-healing legs buckled heavily into the gravel, rainwater soaking his pale Daoist robes to a cold cyan.
The one constant was that Mu Daoying’s gaze always pierced through the peony bushes before him, locking with Liu Qiao’e’s.
But Liu Qiao’e had already looked away, turning to say something to Tu Qin.
Tu Qin seemed to amuse her. She smiled radiantly, her almond eyes lively and charming, innocent and girlish—not like a palace lord, but a young maiden flirting with her lover.
He closed his eyes slightly. His wounds split open, blood soon trickling warmly down his skin like rain. What was there to be disappointed about? Did he really expect her to back him up?
No need to think.
He tried to empty his mind. Or think of other things—Qingxu, Jade Clarity Temple, the Trace World Mirror—anything else…
He did not know how much time passed. Until the blows on his body grew sparse and finally stopped.
Only then did Mu Daoying lift his eyes, as if from another world.
The setting sun’s glow bathed the peony bushes quietly. Red petals scattered in the east wind.
Before him was emptiness, only remnants of sunset and fallen petals. Everyone had long gone, and a chunk seemed gouged from his heart.
Then came boundless self-mockery, bitter.
Knowing it would be like this, what had he been hoping for?
Hoping she was just sulking with him temporarily? That he still mattered in her eyes?
Did he think she would wait for him to finish his punishment?
Did he think she would feel reluctant?
She already hated him, and now Cheng Xun was badly injured—she must hate him to the bone.
News of the Immaculate Old Mother ordering Mu Daoying flogged just to amuse Tu Qin quickly spread throughout Joyous Union Palace.
Unlike the revelry at Tu Qin’s side—amidst flowers and finery, oil on fire—
Mu Daoying’s place, which had occasionally seen visitors before, now had deserted gates. The serving attendants grew neglectful, serving cold attitudes and cold food.
Those below knew how to turn with the wind.
Though Mu Daoying rarely went out, his few young attendants always faced trouble when going out to decoct medicine for him.
He knew well that without subtle hints from above, even if he had fallen from grace, those below would never dare be so bold as to harass the sect leader’s male pet.
Helplessly, he could only drag his sick body to seek justice for them.
In the cultivation world, the strong ruled.
He forcibly circulated his inner energy for a few moves, making them rein in for the time being, no longer daring to openly bully his people.
But behind his back, they spewed all sorts of filthy gossip.
Mu Daoying had no mind—or no time—to deal with it.
That day, using those moves aggravated his internal injuries, and he fell into a dazed coma for several days.
Until, in the dead of night, he was startled awake by the tinkling of a zither.
The playing was not very skilled, but it was sincere.
The tune was profoundly melancholic and mournful, as if harboring endless woes suppressed in the strings.
At the climax, the pent-up resentment reached a shocking frenzy, and faintly came the snap of a broken string!
The piece stirred Mu Daoying somewhat.
In this Joyous Union Palace, there was such an isolated, indignant zither melody?
He could not help but follow the sound out of his side hall. In the distance, under moonlight like water wetting the daytime’s green tiles and eaves.
One corner of the eave thrust into the inky blue night sky. A figure hugging a zither dangled one leg, perched on the eave corner.
But upon recognizing the figure, Mu Daoying pressed his lips and cooled his heart, turning to leave.
“Don’t go!” That voice called.
Though thoroughly disappointed in her, Mu Daoying still halted his steps.
Liu Qiao’e hugged the zither and jumped down.
He did not know what had gotten into her today. Or perhaps, under tonight’s bright moon and watery night, it stirred some melancholy in her. She pressed her lips slightly, her tone uncharacteristically tentative.
“That day… how are you?”
She did not ask, but once she did—Mu Daoying said nothing, turned, and walked away, his steps stumbling slightly.
She saw it and understood.
“These days, it was my fault. I’ll have someone send some medicinal herbs for you…”
He did not know what medicine she had taken, suddenly chasing after him, fussing caringly.
Mu Daoying had to stop with his back to her, close his eyes, and sigh. “Old Mother, Ying is lowly and clumsy by nature, a speck of dust under your carriage wheels, dirt beneath your feet.
“Moreover, now with a crippled body and illness, this one knows his place and dares not harbor any delusions toward the Old Mother.
“I truly cannot bear the Old Mother’s hot-and-cold, distant-and-close attitude.”
He had to restrain himself hard to keep any resentment from his words.
“Why does the Old Mother refuse to let me off, tormenting me like this?”
“You!” Liu Qiao’e’s heart skipped a beat, feeling guilty as charged.
…He knew of her recent orders.
She raised her brows and glared, blustering inwardly. “I’m kindly concerned for you, and in your eyes, that’s torment?”
Mu Daoying remained unmoved, still showing only his back to her, his voice light yet faintly cold. “If you hate me so much, why not simply kill me for a clean and quick end—”
“You?” He frowned and turned around, exclaiming in surprise as she suddenly rushed forward and grabbed his hand.
“What are you doing now?”
Liu Qiao’e gripped his scarred and emaciated large hand and pulled it straight toward her bosom.
“It was my fault before. I—I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you!”
Even though he had resolved to draw a clear line with her—bridges to bridges, roads to roads—her tight hold on his fingertips still made him falter.
Mu Daoying’s fingers twitched, and a dizzying sense of weightlessness struck straight at his heart.
His throat moved, but he said nothing.
That slight turn in his earlier annoyance had clearly been a mistake. Once his gaze landed on her face, he could no longer look away.
She was strong-willed by nature and had never begged anyone so humbly. As soon as she opened her mouth, her face flushed red, the heat spreading to her neck. She stammered, utterly embarrassed and annoyed, her almond eyes welling up with shimmering tears, making her look pitiful and adorable beyond words.
He watched her for a moment, then closed his eyes.
She took the chance to hug his arm. “You… does it hurt?”
Mu Daoying’s heart pounded: a woman who had never acted coquettish in her life, now softening her voice to flirt—it was downright soul-stirring, like some demonic charm. Even if the Holy Lord were revived with the full might of heaven and earth in his martial arts, it probably wouldn’t match half of hers.
“You know too, Second Brother and I…” Liu Qiao’e started, but as soon as she mentioned “Second Brother,” she felt Mu Daoying trying to pull his hand away. She hurriedly hugged him tighter, pressing it to her chest.
“Listen to me. I have a bad temper. If you went to Little Thatch Ridge, you’d know my family all died long ago.”
Mu Daoying’s hand, which had been pulling away, paused.
“By a stroke of luck, I met Second Master and Yu Rou. Over these years, I’ve come to see them as my own brother and sister, my own family.”
“You hurt him so badly, I lost my head in anger for a moment…”
“And then… you got so cold toward me after. You know my personality— the stronger you are, the stronger I get…”
Sweet talk and flattery. Mu Daoying listened and couldn’t help but silently criticize her in his heart, yet like a fool possessed, he quietly kept listening.
“If not for that, why would I come find you night after night?” Liu Qiao’e’s face heated up, her voice dropping lower. “There are so many male consorts in the palace. If I were really that desperate, why force you? You were so unwilling, it was all this old lady me…”
“I…” She held back for a long time before mumbling awkwardly, “I made the moves.”
Heaven help her—she couldn’t even speak her mind frankly or chat sincerely with someone, let alone flirt with a soft tone?
Her words were vague and halting, as if she’d swallowed them several times over, making them sound even more ambiguous.
He didn’t know if it was her low, breathy tone that infected him.
His heart skipped a beat, and a faint blush crept up his ears. He suddenly felt he had gone too far.
“Go ask around. Do I even go to Myriad Fragrance Hall that often? I…”
Liu Qiao’e’s tone suddenly turned cold. “I’ve stripped enough back then…”
Hearing this, he thought of her past and felt even more pity, nearly turning around.
He had steeled his heart before, firm as iron, but now it gradually began to thaw.
“In any case.” Liu Qiao’e wasn’t used to moping or recounting her own miseries. She paused, then brushed it off casually. “I have feelings for you, that’s why I have desires.”
“That day, backing up Tu Qin—it was just because I couldn’t stand how cold you were to me. I wanted to test your reaction.”
Backing up Tu Qin just to test his reaction? Utterly absurd. Even though Mu Daoying had already been mostly coaxed over, he couldn’t help criticizing her hypocrisy in his heart.
But even knowing her hypocrisy full well, after her whole song-and-dance routine, he still couldn’t help softening.
Though Mu Daoying still didn’t turn around, he reached back and gently stroked her raven hair. She rested her head on his shoulder.
His voice was soft, like a breath forced from his throat. “What exactly do you want? Is there anything more I can give you?”
As soon as he spoke, he clearly felt her body stiffen.
Just as he expected. Mu Daoying sighed softly in his heart. With her preamble, he wasn’t too disappointed or angry.
She struggled for a moment before gritting her teeth and speaking lowly. “Cheng Xun… his condition isn’t good.”
“He woke up, but that blow he took for me still shattered his tendons and bones. These days, I’ve found many physicians for him, but none can help.”
“They say he’s hurt too badly. He’ll spend the rest of his life bedridden. I see him as a brother—how can I bear to watch him paralyzed forever?”
No wonder lately she always went out during the day and returned late at night covered in dust, then pestered him wordlessly and vigorously, full of vented anger and lust.
He paused, stroking the soft top of her head, his heart sinking.
A vague thought blew through his mind like the wind, and he had a faint premonition.
What did she really want?
He kept his expression calm on the surface and asked gently, “Is there a way?”
Liu Qiao’e didn’t answer right away. She paused for a long while—so long that his fingertips were damp with night dew and his body felt slightly cold.
Only then did she straighten up, her voice losing some of its earlier feigned softness and gaining a light, detached chill.
“I want to borrow your Sword Bone.”