This time, Nangong Si wasn’t the only one to choke. Ye Wangxi had the holy weapon with him; there was no way Mo Ran and Chu Wanning could let him go.
“Go stop him,” Chu Wanning said immediately.
“Okey dokey.” Mo Ran had been thinking the same thing anyway, but he paused. “Shizun, where will he sleep, though?”
“He can have half of our room.”
“Uh.” Mo Ran looked uneasy for some reason. “That’s probably not a good idea.”
Chu Wanning gaze flicked slightly upward. “Why not?”
“There are some things Shizun doesn’t know. It’s best if we don’t stay in the same room as him. Besides, he wouldn’t agree to it anyway, since he’s actually…”
Mo Ran was just getting to the important bit when he was interrupted by the sound of Nangong Si kicking over a table downstairs. Cups and dishes clattered to the floor, followed by a screech as he dragged over a bench and put his foot on it to bellow, “Who said you could leave?! What are you, rebelling or some shit? Get back here!”
Even Nangong Si’s attendants looked on in flustered silence now.
Young master…weren’t you the one who told them to get out?
However, Ye Wangxi seemed more than accustomed to Nangong Si’s unreasonable temper tantrums. He pretended not to have heard anything as he tapped Song Qiutong on the shoulder and gestured at her to ignore the crazy person behind them.
“Ye Wangxi!”
Ye Wangxi did not respond.
“Ye Wangxi!”
Still no response.
“Ye! Wang! Xi!”
The vein at Ye Wangxi’s temple twitched, and he looked back despite himself—only to be unexpectedly met with an oncoming wine jar hurtling directly toward him. Pupils contracting, he was about to dodge when a blur of white flashed in front of him.
“Ah!”
A delicate voice cried out in pain, startling everyone in the room, especially Ye Wangxi and Nangong Si.
Song Qiutong had blocked the hit for Ye Wangxi in the nick of time. She was bleeding profusely from where the heavy jar of red clay had struck her forehead. She touched the blood with a trembling hand as fair as jade, and tears of pain sprang from her eyes.
“Don’t touch it. Let me see.”
“I’m okay. As long as Gongzi didn’t get injured…”
“Can’t you talk without throwing things?” Ye Wangxi said in a sullen tone, shooting Nangong Si a blame-laden glare before turning to one of his attendants. “Get the jinchuang medicine.”25
“Gongzi, we ran out,” the attendant said quietly. “Should I go buy some?”
Nangong Si hadn’t seen this coming either. He forced himself to remain calm, but there was a hint of guilt in his eyes. “I, I have some…” he mumbled with a stiff expression. “A-Lan, fetch my medicine bag.”
Ye Wangxi, still angry, pressed his lips into a thin line and ignored Nangong Si.
For a good while, Nangong Si stood there stiffly, holding the little bottle of medicine, but Ye Wangxi didn’t so much as glance at him the entire time. However, Nangong Si couldn’t sacrifice his pride, so he roughly shoved the bottle at Song Qiutong instead. “Here. Use it if you want, I don’t care.”
Song Qiutong was like a frightened little deer. She first looked shakily toward Ye Wangxi and only accepted the medicine when she saw that while he was silent, he wouldn’t stop her. She then lowered her head in a bow to the person who had injured her as she said quietly, “Thank you, Nangong-gongzi.”
Nangong Si hadn’t expected thanks from the girl whose skull he had nearly cracked open. He was taken aback for a second before snapping out of it and waving a hand with an embarrassed cough. “No problem.”
That night, Ye Wangxi’s group ended up staying at the inn after all.
A multitude of candles flickered throughout the establishment like a scattering of stars in the sky.
Mo Ran sat by a window with his cheek in his hand and his thoughts wandering. It had been nearly two years since his rebirth, and numerous events had differed quite significantly from what he had seen in his last lifetime. It was strange, watching the same people do different things.
Song Qiutong, Ye Wangxi, Bugui… With the passing of time, these familiar people and objects from his past life had once again reappeared in this one. Only this time, he absolutely would not take Song Qiutong to be his wife. As for Ye Wangxi, his name would soon resound throughout the cultivation world, second to none but Chu Wanning.
And then there was Bugui. Agitation flooded Mo Ran’s chest when he thought about the long blade that had accompanied him through his previous life.
“Shizun.”
“Yes?”
“You’ve been working on that talisman for an hour already. Isn’t it done yet?”
“Almost.” By the dim light of the candle, Chu Wanning carefully drew the finishing strokes with a brush dipped in cinnabar to reveal a vivid, elaborate illustration of a soaring dragon.
Mo Ran shuffled over to look. “What’s that?”
“Rising Dragon Array.”
“What does it do?”
“It can detect all spells in an area, big or small. If our mysterious culprit intends to use the holy weapon to test for the essence of others’ spiritual roots, there’s sure to be some kind of trace left on the blade. This way, we’ll know if the weapon’s appearance was mere coincidence or part of his plan.”
“Wow, neat. But then why didn’t Shizun use this back at Xuanyuan Pavilion?”
“You’ll understand once I awaken it.”
Chu Wanning pricked his finger and brushed the blood across one of the dragon’s scales. The little dragon on the paper instantly glowed golden, its eyes and tail moving nimbly.
“Are you a real dragon?” asked Chu Wanning.
A squeaky voice came from the paper. “Yep-yep, this venerable one is a real dragon.”
“Prove it.”
“Stupid mortal! What’s there to doubt?!”
“I’ll know you to be a real dragon if you can jump off this page.”
“What’s so hard about that?! Just give this venerable one a sec! Hah!”
There was a flash of golden light, and a mighty little dragon the size of a palm leapt out of the paper, wiggling its body and baring its fangs. It flew a circle around Chu Wanning, quite pleased with itself and making a fuss. “Ha ha ha, ha ha ha, I’m a dragon big and real, big and real,” it boasted. “I know lots of secrets, lots of secrets. But I’m not gonna tell you, not gonna tell you—not, gonna, tell, you!”
Chu Wanning’s eyes, clear as an icy lake, swept coldly over the little eel before he covered it under a cupped hand and turned to Mo Ran with a deadpan expression. “You see?”
“I see…”
“Let me go! You stupid mortal! You’re messing up this venerable one’s whiskies!”
Chu Wanning lifted his hand and curtly poked the blood-colored inverted scale at the dragon’s throat. “Shut up and get to work.”