TDSDE 12

12. Something had happened.

The first building the Demonic Sect put up after moving to Yunhua Mountain was the Azure Dragon Hall. It used to be located in the Medicine Valley, surrounded by swirling medicinal steam. Now, suddenly brought to the mountaintop, Hall Master Ye Nanxun was still a bit unaccustomed.

Under the moonlight, he entered the wooden hut used for alchemy. As soon as he lit the candle on the table, a white figure suddenly appeared in front of him, making him nearly let out a sharp screech.

Ye Nanxun clutched his chest, nearly in tears. “Left Protector, could you not scare people like that?”

Xiao Qing was different from Bai Yuanxiu. Except for when he was alone with the Vermilion Bird Hall Master, he was always wearing that mask—awake or asleep.

Now, standing before Ye Nanxun, the voice that came through that mask was hoarse and slightly distorted. “Hall Master Ye, I’m here for medicine.”

Ye Nanxun knew Xiao Qing was the boy who had once been injured on his face. Truth be told, he was curious what the wound looked like now, whether it had healed. But since the Left Protector never brought it up, he wouldn’t either.

Still pretending not to be familiar with Xiao Qing, Ye Nanxun asked the way he did with any other cult member, “Where does it hurt?”

Xiao Qing was silent for a few seconds before replying, “It’s not for me. I need medicine for a sword wound—the best kind.”

Ye Nanxun thought for a moment, then went to the medicine cabinet and rummaged around with a troubled expression. “The best would be Yuanqing Powder, but one of the herbs can only be found in the Medicine Valley—we haven’t had time to transplant it yet. Want to take some wound salve first?”

The wound salve made personally by the Azure Dragon Hall Master was leagues above anything found on the market—it was priceless in the outside world. But the Left Protector in white hesitated for a moment before giving a slight nod.

Before leaving, he asked Ye Nanxun for the full list of ingredients and quantities needed to make Yuanqing Powder, thanked him, then pushed open the door and hurried out.

In the Demonic Sect, the Black Tortoise Hall Master was the top in lightness skill, but second was the Left Protector. So by the time Ye Nanxun reached the doorway, the Left Protector had long since vanished.

By flickering candlelight, Ye Nanxun noticed a few drops of water where Xiao Qing had been standing. Remembering the dampness that had radiated off that mask, he could only shake his head and sigh.

He grabbed a stone mortar and began pounding the herbs. As expected, it wasn’t long before he heard the door open again.

Without even looking up, Ye Nanxun said, “Pass me the medicine from the third row, fifteenth slot.”

The wooden door shut with a soft thud. A woman in red lightly tapped the floor with her toes, floating down like a butterfly. She dropped two blackish herbs into the mortar and sat beside Ye Nanxun.

Su Wusi stared at the mortar for a while before asking, “You knew all along?”

“Not all along,” Ye Nanxun said, scraping off some clumps of powder stuck to the mortar wall. “You know what our Right Protector’s personality is like. That day he heard what happened six years ago and ran into the bamboo grove without even putting on clothes.”

He shrugged. “With a reaction like that, how could I not know?”

Su Wusi couldn’t help but curl her lips into a faint smile. “That really is rare.”

Ye Nanxun inhaled deeply, then exhaled hard. “Rare, yeah. But still a pain in the neck.”

Su Wusi didn’t reply this time, only stared silently at the mortar in Ye Nanxun’s hands, lost in thought.

The rhythmic sound of pestle grinding against stone echoed for a while before Ye Nanxun asked curiously, “You’re not going to help?”

Given how much Su Wusi usually cared about the Left Protector, it didn’t seem like her to just sit by while he was clearly miserable. But her behavior today… seemed like she had decided to stay out of it.

Su Wusi shot Ye Nanxun a side glance. “What do you know? If you’ve got time to talk, make me a few more bottles of peach blossom powder.”

Ye Nanxun raised both hands in surrender. “Fine, I’ll shut up. But peach blossom powder? It’s the middle of winter—where am I supposed to get peach blossoms?”

Su Wusi snorted twice but, surprisingly, didn’t argue any further.

Ye Nanxun found that strange—until his nose twitched. He turned his head to see Su Wusi munching noisily on a piece of spiced tofu.

Ye Nanxun: ……

Unbelievable.

That tofu was the pride of the White Tiger Hall—something you could only eat in the Demonic Sect, nowhere else in the whole Dajing Empire. Deep-fried tofu soaked in rich meat broth, fragrant and savory without being greasy.

The only downside? There wasn’t much of it. The braising sauce was easy to make, but the tofu was difficult. They could barely manage a hundred pieces a year.

Ye Nanxun had already eaten his share. Watching Su Wusi now, he could practically imagine the burst of flavor from the tofu as she bit down.

He looked at her with pleading eyes. “Let me have a piece?”

Su Wusi glanced at him, then at the last piece in her bowl. She popped it into her mouth in two bites and swallowed. “Oops, gone.”

Ye Nanxun: !??

He gave a huff and turned around, pounding the herbs even harder.

Just wait. In a few days, he’d go dig into the White Tiger Hall Master’s secret stash himself!

Amid the White Tiger Hall Master’s furious roar, Bai Yuanxiu dodged a kitchen knife that flew out of the house and looked completely baffled. “Brother Wei, what are you—?”

Wei Heng saw it was Bai Yuanxiu and his anger eased slightly. He sighed at the empty ceramic jar in front of him. “I was gonna give that to the sect leader today. Look—just look! A whole jar, all gone.”

He said that just after dawn this morning, he’d seen someone in the kitchen. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time—until he caught a whiff of intense braised aroma a few steps away.

Sensing something was wrong, Wei Heng rushed in and grabbed a kitchen knife, but he was a step too slow—the thief had already escaped.

Bai Yuanxiu stared at the giant ceramic jar—big enough to hold five or six heads—and was utterly speechless.

The Demonic Sect really was full of hidden talents. Turns out someone besides the leader could eat that much.

Wei Heng set the jar aside and asked, “What brings you here this early?”

It was still morning. The Martial Gathering had ended several days ago, and as a Protector, Bai Yuanxiu no longer had any duties. After getting injured, he was supposed to be resting.

After all, the wound had come from the Left Protector’s Frost Palm. Though it looked like he’d merely been stabbed in the back with a sword, in truth, that chill had already seeped deep into him through the wound.

That cold energy was fast and penetrated deeply. Luckily, Bai Yuanxiu’s inner cultivation directly countered it—otherwise, he’d have had a miserable time this winter.

Bai Yuanxiu instinctively touched his chest, then smiled. “It’s not that serious, and the medicine at Yunhua is incredible. Just two doses took care of the pain—I’m nearly healed now.”

He glanced around the kitchen, which was big enough to rival some people’s mansions, feeling even more puzzled. “Brother Wei, didn’t you cook pheasant yesterday?”

Wei Heng shook his head. “Nope. Haven’t used chicken or duck in the dishes these past few days. The Sect Leader mentioned he wanted more braised beef, so I made another batch. He just finished that whole cow last night.”

Bai Yuanxiu: …

The Sect Leader and his tiger cub sure had their usual healthy appetites.

He chatted a little more with Wei Heng, and when he left the kitchen, his arms were full of warm pastries.

The faint scent of osmanthus floated to his nose. Bai Yuanxiu thought that Wei Heng’s osmanthus syrup was getting more and more tempting. If only he’d learned how to make it a few years ago—back when the golden osmanthus in the courtyard had bloomed all over the tree—he could’ve picked them and made something sweet for Ah Qing.

Xiao Qing liked pastries—sweet, sour, savory, didn’t matter. Whenever he bit into something he really liked, his eyes would narrow contentedly, just like a satisfied cat.

Every time Bai Yuanxiu saw that expression, he couldn’t look away. He’d always want to wrap Xiao Qing in something soft and warm and just… keep looking at him like that.

Realizing where his thoughts had wandered, Bai Yuanxiu suddenly paused mid-step. He looked up at the gloomy sky, rubbed his eyes, and walked off toward the farthest corner of Yunhua Mountain—like nothing had happened.

That direction… was the farthest point from the mountain’s bamboo forest.

Unlike Xiao Qing, the Left Protector, Bai Yuanxiu had always liked being around people. But this time, when the disciples of Vermilion Bird Hall asked where he wanted to stay, he’d, for some reason, picked this remote little corner.

Which worked out just fine—no more accidentally running into Xiao Qing.

With a somewhat downcast expression, Bai Yuanxiu pushed the door open and went inside.

Since he was injured and couldn’t train with his sword, he suddenly had nothing to do.

He hadn’t stayed in the cult this quietly in a long time. That sword had struck at the perfect angle—just grazing his lung. It hadn’t healed completely yet; even a little too much movement would set him coughing. But it wasn’t serious. Once spring came, he’d be fine.

It was almost noon. Normally, even this place should be full of sunlight, but the light outside only grew dimmer—looked like it was going to rain.

Bai Yuanxiu hated rain the most. He’d originally planned to find someone to drink with at lunch, but now he didn’t feel like going out at all.

With nothing to do, he picked up a travelogue and began flipping through it. The four books had been left outside his door along with yesterday’s herbal soup—he’d picked them up without much thought.

He didn’t usually like reading. When he was young, he’d been forced to study so much that now just seeing a page full of text gave him a headache.

But to his surprise, this travelogue was vivid and entertaining. He snacked on pastries while reading, and before he knew it, he was already halfway through the book.

Boom!—a muffled thunderclap sounded, and amid that low rumble, Bai Yuanxiu suddenly heard hurried footsteps approaching.

This was the shadowed side of the mountain. Farther in was a cold spring—perfect for cooling off in summer, but too chilly in winter. Since he’d moved in, no one had ever come to find him here.

Hearing footsteps, Bai Yuanxiu figured it was one of the sect members who’d delivered him something earlier. He set down his book and osmanthus pastry, got up, and went to open the door.

But to his surprise, it wasn’t a regular sect member.

It was Azure Dragon Hall Master, Ye Nanxun.

Ye Nanxun came rushing over, face dark. “Something’s happened.”