Chu Wanning shoved Mo Ran’s head away from where it had nosed over, even though his own face was still turned to peer at the scene downstairs. “Don’t make up nicknames for your fellow disciples.”
“Heh heh.” Mo Ran laughed and was about to say something else when he paused, suddenly realizing something. Chu Wanning’s finger was pressed against his forehead, pushing him away. In the process, his sleeve draped softly over Mo Ran’s face like a wisp of mist. The sleeve was made of extremely light material, like silk or satin but not quite, and it felt both warm and cool, almost like water.
Back in their room, when he had been reeling with desire and unable to tug off Chu Wanning’s robes, he’d thought the robes had just been too tightly bound. When he examined them now, Mo Ran realized that they were made of frozen mist silk from Kunlun Taxue Palace.
Kunlun Taxue Palace was the most aloof and detached sect in the upper cultivation realm. Its disciples were inducted at age five, and one year later, they were sent into secluded cultivation in the sacred land of Kunlun. There they were compelled to stay until they managed to cultivate their spiritual cores. Although spiritual cores were innate and cultivation merely awakened them, it was still a long process that often took ten to fifteen years. As others were barred from entering the sacred land during this time, the disciples’ needs were a basic problem. Food was one thing, as the sacred land was adjacent to Wangmu Lake, so the Taxue Palace disciples
could always go fishing for sustenance. However, it wasn’t like they could weave their own clothes.
And so their sect had invented frozen mist silk. Clothes made from this silk were not only light as mist, they were also enchanted to be naturally impervious to common dust and grime. They thus didn’t need washing unless they were splashed by substances like blood.
The most amazing property of this silk was its ability to morph in accordance with the wearer’s body. This was absolutely necessary for the disciples of Taxue Palace, who entered the sacred land as small children at five years old, and who couldn’t leave until they were young adults of fifteen or twenty. Clothes made of frozen mist silk would grow with them, so during those long years, they always had clothes that fit.
What was Chu Wanning doing, wearing robes made of this special material?
Mo Ran squinted, a spark flashing through his mind. He suddenly felt like something was off—like he had been mistaken about something from the very start. What was it?
“Excuse me, may I ask where I might find the innkeeper?”
Mo Ran’s thoughts were interrupted by a confident, yet friendly and courteous voice. He looked down to see the group of Rufeng Sect disciples who had been at Xuanyuan Pavilion earlier. The one at the lead was leaning halfway inside, his crane-patterned mantle fluttering as he held the door curtain open with his sword.
Mo Ran perked up. “Aren’t those Ye Wangxi’s people?”
Rufeng Sect had seventy-two cities, so its disciples often didn’t know one another, and Nangong Si was sitting by himself in a private booth with his back to the door. Thus the group of newcomers glanced over their fellow sect disciples inside the inn, who were dressed in plain clothes, and didn’t recognize any of them.
Ye Wangxi vs. Nangong Si. This was sure to be entertaining.
“My apologies, but we’ve already been reserved for tonight.” The innkeeper hurried over while silently cursing herself for forgetting to close up shop. “Please turn your attentions elsewhere—we’re truly so sorry.”
The young man at the lead looked troubled as he sighed. “What to do… We’ve already checked the other inns, and they’re all full. There’s a frail young lady with us who’s in dire need of rest, so we were hoping to find somewhere for her to get a good night’s sleep. Might I trouble you to ask if the one who reserved this inn would consider letting us have a few rooms?”
“That… He probably won’t be willing.”
The young man bowed. “Please ask anyway,” he implored politely. “It’s all right if he turns us down.”
The innkeeper didn’t get a chance to respond when one of Nangong Si’s attendants at a nearby table slapped the surface and stood, outraged. “What’s there to ask?! Get out—out! Don’t disturb our young master while he’s eating!”
“That’s right! Aren’t you embarrassed, taking a woman to bed while wearing Rufeng Sect’s uniform, dragging your sect’s name through the mud?!”
The young man hadn’t expected such a misunderstanding. “Why do you slander us so?” he asked indignantly as he turned bright red. “We of Rufeng Sect have always been principled and virtuous.
Of course we wouldn’t conduct ourselves with such impropriety. This young lady was kindly saved by our young master—how dare you speak such nonsense!”
“Your young master?” Nangong Si’s attendant glanced toward the private booth. His own young master was still drinking wine, taking no notice of them, which he took as silent permission to chase out the interlopers. He relaxed and snickered loudly. “Everyone knows there’s only one young master of Rufeng Sect. I wonder who this young master of yours is?”
A gentle, graceful voice came from outside the door. “That would be me, Ye Wangxi of Rufeng Sect.”
Every head in the room turned toward the door. “Ye-gongzi—”
Ye Wangxi was dressed all in black, his handsome face taking on a delicate cast in the candlelight. He stepped inside, followed by a veiled woman with nervous eyes—Song Qiutong.
Mo Ran eyed the girl, the vein at his temple throbbing viciously at the mere sight of her. Her again. Just his luck…
Nangong Si’s attendants were momentarily taken aback by
Ye Wangxi’s appearance. Then contempt surfaced on the faces of some of the less-composed members of their group.
Ye Wangxi was the adopted son of Rufeng Sect’s chief elder, and he had once been attached to the sect’s “shadow city.” As implied by the name, the shadow city specialized in training the shadow guard.24 The leader of Rufeng Sect had originally wanted Ye Wangxi to be trained as the next leader of the shadow guard. However, the nature of Ye Wangxi’s cultivation had turned out to be unsuitable for the cultivation method of the shadow guard, so he had been reassigned to the main city and now acted as the sect leader’s right-hand man.
Due to his upbringing as a shadow guard, Ye Wangxi habitually kept a low profile, and very few people knew of him. However, the sect leader held him in extremely high esteem—so much so that, in recent years, there had been rumors within the sect that Ye Wangxi was actually the sect leader’s bastard. Perhaps because of this, Nangong Si, the legitimate heir, was on bad terms with the other young man.
Since their young master disliked Ye Wangxi, it was only natural that his attendants shared his low opinions of him. While they were obligated to avoid offending Ye-gongzi as his juniors, they were also Nangong Si’s personal attendants who directly reported to him.
So, after a long moment of awkward, frozen silence, one of the less-reserved attendants laughed coldly. “Well, Ye-gongzi, please take your leave. I’m afraid there’s no place for you here.”
“Gongzi, they say there’s no room, so l-let’s go look elsewhere.” Song Qiutong tugged the hem of Ye Wangxi’s clothes with slender fingers, a note of fear in her voice. “Besides, this place is so expensive. I dare not waste any more of Gongzi’s money…”
Upstairs, Mo Ran rolled his eyes. It was always that weak, pitiful tone with her. She had tricked him with it in the past, and now she was manipulating Ye Wangxi the same way.
Ye Wangxi was about to speak when an enormous white shadow darted out from the inner room, headed straight for his back.
“Gongzi, watch out!” Song Qiutong cried out in alarm.
“Awoooooh! Woooooh!” Howling loudly, a snow-white faewolf lunged toward Ye Wangxi—and started excitedly running in circles around him.
No one said a word.
Ye Wangxi looked down in shock at the three-man-tall faewolf that was rolling adorably around on the floor. “Naobaijin?”
It was Nangong Si’s faewolf mount, named “nao” for its eyes, the scarlet hue of carnelians; “bai” for its coat white as snow; and “jin” for the gold of its claws.
If Naobaijin was here, then so was Nangong Si. Ye Wangxi obliged the big furry head that was nudging toward him for pets while looking around.
Shff. The bamboo curtain was lifted by a hand that extended from a scarlet, gold-embroidered sleeve.
Leaning idly against the wall of the private room with his arms crossed, irritated expression half-covered by the curtain and holding a bottle of wine in hand, Nangong Si shot Ye Wangxi a glance and sneered. “Interesting. Why do you always show up wherever I go? With the way you’re always trailing after me, where am I to put my face if people start gossiping about us?”