Chapter 139 – Dust Settles (Final Chapter)

If it had been any other talisman technique, Zhang Xiuqi wouldn’t have been so utterly defenseless. However, the person had used a Soul Binding Talisman, which happened to be one of Sun Yunhe’s most formidable skills. Moreover, Zhang Xiuqi himself had lost his Heavenly Soul for twenty years because of this very technique. Now that his Heavenly Soul had just returned, and after a night of life-and-death battles, the fact that he could even tear the talisman paper and maintain a sliver of consciousness was already the limit of what he could do. Yet, in just that short moment, the situation on the battlefield had drastically changed. When Zhang Xiuqi struggled to lift his head, he saw a red light completely envelop the white-robed figure. In the blink of an eye, the person fell backward to the ground, lifeless.

That was his father’s body. Zhang Xiuqi clenched his teeth tightly. The image of his father’s retreating figure still lingered in his mind. His father had risked his life to protect him, and in the end, this was the result? His body was dead, his soul extinguished, and his flesh taken by the enemy! But before anger could fully consume him, his gaze shifted to Wei Yang, who was still standing in place. The red light dissipated, and the figure staggered slightly before collapsing to the ground.

“Ah Yang!” Everything else flew out of Zhang Xiuqi’s mind. His father was dead, had been dead for twenty years. But he couldn’t bear to see the life of the person before him extinguished as well.

He rushed forward and caught Wei Yang’s unconscious body. Almost instinctively, he pulled out a Clear Mind Talisman and tried to stick it on Wei Yang’s forehead. However, a white light emanated from the Bone Formation, rendering the talisman useless. What was going on? Had Wei Yang’s soul already been driven out, taken over by that old monster? But when he checked Wei Yang’s pulse, it was surprisingly steady, showing no signs of injury.

If the Clear Mind Talisman didn’t work, he’d try a Soul Stabilizing Talisman! Zhang Xiuqi frantically switched talismans, not caring that his own soul was on the verge of collapse. But it was like throwing mud into the sea—there was no response at all. Just as he was about to bite his tongue and use his true essence to activate the formation, a weak voice stopped him: “Xiao Qi, use the Soul Locking Needles…”

Zhang Xiuqi looked up abruptly and saw that his uncle had managed to struggle to his feet, holding two golden needles in his hand. He immediately picked up Wei Yang and rushed over. In just a few dozen meters, sweat poured down his body like rain. With trembling hands, he took the needles and inserted them into the back of Wei Yang’s head.

The Yuzhen and Naohu acupoints were crucial for the movement of the soul. Inserting needles into these points could prevent the soul from scattering and lock in the person’s vital energy, which was why this method was called the Soul Locking Needles. As soon as the needles were in place, Wei Yang’s slightly cold body temperature began to rise, and he stopped trembling, lying quietly in Zhang Xiuqi’s arms as if in a deep sleep.

Seeing this, Zhang Xiuqi’s hands finally stopped shaking. He looked at his uncle with a pleading expression: “What’s wrong with him? The talismans didn’t work. Has he been taken over?”

“Maybe his soul is attached to the Bone Formation… I’m not sure, but that thing didn’t take his body…” Zeng Jingxuan replied with great difficulty. He didn’t look at the lifeless body lying in the distance but instead turned his head with effort: “Go check on Yao Wei…”

Only then did Zhang Xiuqi remember Yao Wei, who had fallen to the side. He quickly walked over and, after a thorough examination, let out a sigh of relief: “Two ribs are broken, but he’s alive. No life-threatening injuries.”

Hearing this, Zeng Jingxuan finally relaxed and lay back on the ground, exhausted. After a long while, he whispered: “Back then, we found a mutilated body, torn to pieces by mountain beasts. The soul lamp at Longhu Mountain had gone out. I saw a ring on that hand…”

His words were somewhat disjointed, but Zhang Xiuqi understood. Every blood descendant of Longhu Mountain with spiritual power had a soul lamp lit in the ancestral hall. As long as the lamp remained lit, the person wouldn’t die. Conversely, if the lamp went out, not even a great immortal could bring them back. His father’s soul lamp had gone out first, and only later had his uncle gone to the forbidden land to search for him.

But no one had expected that the mutilated body wasn’t actually his father’s. His father’s body had been taken long ago, becoming a vessel for that evil soul. It was likely because the person had used the bloodline of the Zhang family of Longhu Mountain that he was able to open this yin spiritual aperture and attempt to set up such a grand Soul Stealing Formation. Fortunately, he hadn’t succeeded…

Carefully dragging Yao Wei over and retrieving the now motionless Lao Ye from beside the tree, Zhang Xiuqi didn’t hesitate to make a phone call. Such a commotion in the mountains would surely attract attention sooner or later, but none of them could wait that long.

After hanging up, Zhang Xiuqi glanced once more at the lifeless body lying quietly on the ground. Silently, he turned around, picked up the unconscious Wei Yang, leaned against the tree trunk behind him, and gently closed his eyes.

&&&

Wei Yang felt as if his entire body was on fire, as though he had rushed into a burning room. A maddening restlessness churned in his chest, and at some point, he suddenly found himself stepping into another room.

It was a dilapidated Taoist temple. To be precise, he was lying on a simple wooden bed. Kneeling beside the bed was a middle-aged man dressed in traditional ancient attire, with a long beard and hair neatly tied into a topknot. He had the demeanor of a distinguished gentleman, but at that moment, tears streamed down his face, and he looked utterly heartbroken.

What was going on? Just as this thought crossed his mind, a voice reached his ears: “Xi Zhi, after I die, lock my soul within the Bone Formation. Bury them separately.”

The man called “Xi Zhi” immediately choked back a sob and said, “Master, this soul-locking technique will prevent you from ever reincarnating. Why must you…”

“Reincarnation isn’t that important anymore. Take these and swear that you will never tamper with these two Witch Bones.” As he spoke, Wei Yang saw a withered hand extend from the bed. It was unclear how old the person was, but his skin clung tightly to his skeleton, looking as dry as a piece of kindling. Yet his fingers were steady, not like those of a frail old man, but rather carrying a stubborn determination.

The middle-aged man hesitated for a moment before finally biting his lip and bowing to take the two Witch Bones. He said, “I, Wei Xi Zhi, swear to fulfill my master’s final wish, to house his soul within the Witch Bones and bury them separately. If I break this oath, may I suffer heavenly retribution, my descendants perish, and my soul never ascend.”

Seemingly satisfied with the oath, the hand gently lifted and slowly said, “In my life, I’ve only taken two disciples. Unfortunately, your senior brother was too much like me and likely won’t live to a natural end. After he passes, pass my manuscripts to his descendants. How much they learn will depend on their own abilities. As for you, studying feng shui will be enough.”

Realizing that this was the final will, the middle-aged man clenched his teeth and remained silent. The person lying on the bed clearly didn’t need any further response.

“In my life, I’ve gone against heaven, and in the end, I’ve been left disgraced and alone. I’ve lived enough. I have no attachments, and I wish not to enter reincarnation…”

Not to enter reincarnation.

After softly repeating these words, the withered hand stiffened slightly and then went still. Immediately after, the scene before Wei Yang vanished. The dilapidated Taoist temple disappeared, and he was left in complete darkness, as if plunged into pure nothingness. Yet, somehow, Wei Yang knew this wasn’t true darkness. This was somewhere…

Somewhere he felt somewhat familiar…

“You shouldn’t be here.” A voice came from within the darkness.

Wei Yang was startled but quickly realized it was the voice of the old man who had just left his will. However, it sounded much younger than before and more familiar—it was Sun Yunhe’s voice.

In a flash, Wei Yang remembered everything he had just seen and the scenes he had witnessed in his dreams several times. Like the fox spirit that had once invaded him, he seemed to have unintentionally intruded into the memories of another person’s soul. And that person was Sun Yunhe.

So, had he been seeing fragments of Sun Yunhe’s memories all along? Wei Yang was momentarily stunned but suddenly thought of something and called out, “Master Sun, please activate the Bone Formation!”

This was Sun Yunhe’s residual soul! If he could activate the Bone Formation, wouldn’t the old monster trying to possess him be completely defeated? He hadn’t expected the soul attachment to lead to such a situation, but he had to seize this opportunity!

“Is someone trying to harm you?” Sun Yunhe’s voice was flat, as if asking about something unrelated to him.

“He’s trying to harm Brother Qi! He…” Wei Yang’s usually silver tongue faltered. He didn’t know how to describe the situation he was in or how to persuade this historically notorious enemy of the Taoist world.

However, a voice interrupted him: “To save that person, you’re willing to attach your soul to the Witch Bones? Even if it means your death and the destruction of your soul?”

Wei Yang’s mouth went dry. He suddenly realized his mistake. He had come here with the determination to die, to defeat the old monster and save Brother Qi. Even if he couldn’t rely on others, he was willing to fight to the death. Gritting his teeth, he shouted, “Even if my soul is destroyed! Master Sun, please teach me what to do!”

From the darkness came a barely audible sigh: “Fool. Go. This is not a place for you to linger.”

A gust of wind swept through, and Wei Yang felt himself being lifted. The burning pain in his soul disappeared, replaced by two cool breezes that entered from the back of his head. He seemed to be floating in the clouds, neither touching the sky nor the ground, but feeling an unusual sense of safety, like an unborn child. He floated like this for a long, long time until a sharp pain in the tiger’s mouth¹The fleshy part between thumb and index of his left hand made him open his eyes.

What greeted him was no longer the deep forest but a bright room painted in light blue. The faint smell of disinfectant drifted into his nose. Wei Yang sniffed and suddenly realized where he was—this was clearly a hospital room. Had they left the mountains? How was Brother Qi now?

His body trembled, and he struggled to sit up. A voice came from beside him: “Hey, you’re awake? Xiao Qi just went out. He should be back soon.”

The voice was familiar. Wei Yang looked over and was stunned. Lying on the next bed was a man in his thirties, also wearing a hospital gown. He was half-leaning on the bed, idly playing with a TV remote. But Wei Yang had no memory of this face, especially since the man was quite handsome, with a faint smile and a shallow dimple on his cheek. His expression was flirtatious, like a playboy who wandered through the flower fields.

Seeing Wei Yang’s lack of response, the man turned his head and immediately understood the reason for his confusion. He coughed lightly: “I haven’t shaved my beard in a while. Don’t recognize me?”

“You’re Yao Wei?” Only then did Wei Yang truly react. This guy was that Yao with the unkempt beard who looked like a stalker? The difference in appearance was too drastic!

Yao Wei, however, didn’t mind. He chuckled: “No choice. My looks really don’t match the job. To put clients at ease, I had to sacrifice a bit of myself.”

Right, this wasn’t the face of a private investigator. Anyone who saw him would probably mistake him for a homewrecker rather than someone to entrust with investigating marital secrets.

After a few seconds of silence, Wei Yang let out a snort of laughter: “Seems like you really love being a private investigator.”

With such looks and the skills of a Laoshan Taoist, yet choosing to make a living by snooping into people’s private lives—this guy’s taste was truly something else. Yao Wei, however, just smiled and said nonchalantly, “Love what you do, do what you love. Anyway, you’ve been out for almost two days. How are you feeling?”

Has it been two days already? Wei Yang moved his stiff neck and assessed the condition of his limbs: “Seems like there’s no problem. How are Brother Qi and Master Zeng?”

“Those two are recovering well. They’ve been visiting the morgue a lot these past couple of days. I’d say they’re doing just fine.” Yao Wei’s voice carried a hint of inexplicable bitterness.

Wei Yang blinked, then realized what “visiting the morgue” meant. It must be referring to Brother Qi’s father. Thinking of this, he felt a pang of anxiety: “Was Celestial Master Zhang’s body recovered? Did that possessing spirit disappear?”

“Yeah, apparently you took care of it. I was still unconscious at the time, so I didn’t see it myself. Oh, by the way, we’ve found out the background of that soul-stealing guy. He seems to be from the Pu family of Yangzhou in the late Qing dynasty. He was a pretty well-known rogue cultivator and even helped Sun Dianying loot the Eastern Mausoleum—you know, Empress Dowager Cixi’s tomb. Later, his family fell into ruin because of his notoriety. Who would’ve thought this guy’s ancestors had some connection to Sun Yunhe and that he managed to survive from that chaotic era until now? Tsk tsk, truly an old fox…”

As if he had been holding back a flood of words, Yao Wei rambled on without holding back. Wei Yang, however, listened half-heartedly. So, that guy had really been dealt with. It must have been the Bone Formation that played a crucial role at the last moment. But he had been driven out by Master Sun, hadn’t he? Had Sun Yunhe taken over himself?

As he thought this, the spot on his left tiger’s mouth began to ache again. Looking down, Wei Yang realized that the small red mole that had grown there had disappeared. The mark that had appeared when he first obtained the Witch Bone was now gone, and the three Witch Bones hung quietly around his neck, looking like ordinary ornaments.

Had they fulfilled their purpose? Was Sun Yunhe’s soul still there? Just as he was pondering this, the door was pushed open with a bang, as if a gust of wind had swept in. Zhang Xiuqi rushed in and went straight to Wei Yang’s hospital bed. Even his usually icy face showed a hint of barely contained excitement.

“Brother Qi, I just woke up.” Wei Yang smiled gently and took hold of Zhang Xiuqi’s slightly trembling arm, feeling as if he had come back to life.

Zhang Xiuqi gripped his wrist in return: “Are you okay? Is there anything wrong?”

“I’m fine. Just a bit stiff from lying down. I’ll probably be fine after some ‘exercise.'” Wei Yang blinked, infusing the word “exercise” with a shamelessly suggestive tone.

A sound of someone sucking in air through their teeth came from the next bed. Yao Wei struggled to sit up: “You two carry on. Don’t mind me. I’ll go take a walk downstairs, get some ‘exercise.'”

Though he said not to mind him, Yao Wei made quite a racket as he got up, groaning as if in pain—whether it was real or just for show was unclear. However, the two young men paid him no attention, leaving Yao Wei feeling somewhat defeated as he shuffled out of the room. Stroking his now clean-shaven chin, he glanced toward the elevator. The morgue should be empty by now, right? He refused to believe that he, a living person, couldn’t compete with a dead one. With a heavy snort, the now beardless Yao strode toward the elevator.

Inside the room, the sweet and rosy atmosphere didn’t last long. Wei Yang quickly got to the main topic: “What exactly happened with that soul-stealing guy? And what about your father…”

“Twenty years ago, he set up a small Soul Stealing Formation in Wang Village, trying to steal the life force of the villagers. But you unintentionally disrupted it, causing the formation to backfire and severely injuring him. That’s why he targeted the forbidden land of Longhu Mountain. During our trial, we were ambushed, and my father sacrificed himself to protect me, going alone to fight him. But after possessing my father’s body, that guy cut off one of his arms and mixed it with the remains on the ground, pretending it was my father’s corpse…”

At this point, Zhang Xiuqi’s expression had turned grim. Wei Yang comfortingly patted the back of his hand and asked softly, “Now that you’ve dealt with that guy and recovered your father’s body, it’s still a good thing. What are you planning to do next?”

The uncle and nephew had been spending so much time in the morgue—surely it wasn’t just for mourning? Zhang Xiuqi hesitated for a moment before answering, “We’re planning to take my father’s body back home and rebury him, next to my mother.”

“When are you leaving? I’ll probably be ready to move soon…” Wei Yang trailed off, pursing his lips, “You don’t want to take me with you?”

He knew Zhang Xiuqi too well; he could tell at a glance what the other was hesitating about. Sure enough, Zhang Xiuqi remained silent for a moment before nodding: “Longhu Mountain already knows about this. We have to go back. I can’t take you with me.”

Was this “can’t” due to circumstances, or was it a choice? Wei Yang stared intently at the upright figure before him and after a while asked, “Are you afraid my witch blood will be discovered?”

Zhang Xiuqi pursed his lips and didn’t answer. He had grown up at Longhu Mountain. The ancestral temple wasn’t as peaceful and serene as outsiders imagined; it was far more complicated than one might think. He truly didn’t want to take Wei Yang back there, nor did he want Wei Yang’s background to be discovered by others.

Wei Yang looked at the silent Little Celestial Master and finally sighed softly: “I understand. Will you come back after handling things?”

“Yes.” Zhang Xiuqi’s answer was resolute.

Wei Yang smiled: “Then that’s fine. I’ll wait for you at home—our home…”

A kiss sealed his lips, carrying a mix of tenderness, apology, and an overwhelming sense of protection and longing, silencing any further words.

Zeng Jingxuan looked at the cold body before him and gently closed his eyes. Over the past few days, he had visited his brother-in-law many, many times. But now, it was time to leave.

His fingers trembled slightly as he slowly removed a ring from his left ring finger. After a moment of hesitation, he gently placed it on the body’s remaining right hand. It was this ring that had caused him to misunderstand for twenty years, and it was this ring that had kept him trapped in grief for just as long. Now, it was time to return it to its rightful owner.

As the slightly warm ring touched the cold finger, it immediately turned icy. But Zeng Jingxuan didn’t stop. He put the ring back in place and lightly touched the ring’s surface. In a soft voice, he said, “Brother-in-law, this is the ring my sister gave you. I’ll take you back and bury you with her.”

This was guilt, an apology, and the remnants of emotions that had lingered through the passage of time. Looking at the cold face before him, Zeng Jingxuan closed his eyes, holding back the tear that threatened to fall. As he reached out to cover the body with the shroud, a voice came from outside the morgue: “Ahem, Brother Xuan, I saw Xiao Qi go upstairs. Came down to keep you company…”

The voice sounded strange, as if tinged with bitterness or sourness, but beneath that, there was also a hint of stubborn determination. Zeng Jingxuan paused, covered the body with the shroud, and pushed it back into the cold storage unit without hesitation. He strode out the door.

The person outside was clearly surprised: “Brother Xuan, you’re leaving?”

“Who told you to get out of bed?” Zeng Jingxuan ignored the nonsense and asked directly.

“Cough, I’m pretty much healed… Hey, Brother Xuan, wait up! I can’t walk that fast!”

&&&

Two days later, Wei Yang returned to his old nest in Shanxi Province, alone and with a turtle.

After leaving the mountains, Lao Ye had seemed a bit listless, with large sections of his shell warped and twisted, which had frightened Wei Yang. Later, an expert told him that this was a sign that the turtle was shedding its shell. Who would’ve thought that a turtle of such an age would still shed its shell? But after confirming that the turtle wasn’t in any real danger, Wei Yang relaxed. For the past two days, he hadn’t gone to the company but had stayed at home, pampering Lao Ye with good food and water, finally soothing the old turtle’s temper so that it no longer chased people around to bite them.

According to Sun the Otaku, that old fellow Sun Chengfeng had returned from South Korea after a successful plastic surgery. He’d even had his eyes done to give them a phoenix-like shape. It was unclear what he was so proud of, but he kept urging Wei Yang to get back to work. Wei Yang ignored him entirely, staying at home and learning several new dishes, cooking them over and over again, almost like a housewife. It seemed that only by busying himself with these trivial tasks could he calm down and stop worrying about the things that troubled him.

Thus, five days passed in the blink of an eye. On this day, as usual, he tidied up the room and used a cotton swab to apply medicine to Lao Ye’s shell when the doorbell suddenly rang. Wei Yang jumped up from his chair and rushed to open the door. This time, it wasn’t the security guard or a delivery person. Standing at the door was the person he had been dreaming about, looking travel-worn with a large backpack slung over his shoulder, as if he had just stepped off a train.

Wei Yang grinned from ear to ear: “Brother Qi, you’re back!”

Looking at the young man’s beaming face, Zhang Xiuqi’s lips curved into a faint smile: “I’m back.”

“Not leaving again?”

“Not leaving.”

The simple exchange felt like the settling of dust.

A hand slowly reached out, pulling the person inside. The sound of the bag hitting the floor, the door closing, and the faint, moist sound of their lips meeting filled the air.

Lao Ye, who had been left halfway through his pampering, gave a disgruntled look at the two humans now entangled by the door. With a proud lift of its head, it slowly shuffled toward the balcony, where some leftover shrimp meat awaited its dinner.

The commotion of Lao Ye’s departure was hardly subtle, but the two locked in an embrace paid no attention. Wei Yang pressed Zhang Xiuqi firmly against the wall, almost as if he wanted to merge their bodies into one. His hands tangled in Zhang Xiuqi’s thick black hair, his tongue slipping past the other’s teeth, sweeping over the roof of his mouth, and tangling with Zhang Xiuqi’s own. The desire was overwhelming, leaving no room for hesitation.

Behind him, a pair of hands gripped his waist tightly, pulling him even closer, their bodies pressed together so tightly that even through the layers of clothing, Wei Yang could feel the growing hardness against him. The sensation only fueled his fervor, and his kiss grew more intense. But before things could escalate further, those hands suddenly lifted him by the hips, carrying him effortlessly. Wei Yang gasped in surprise, but before he could say anything, Zhang Xiuqi’s lips chased after his, silencing him as he strode toward the familiar bedroom.

Kicking the door open, Zhang Xiuqi placed Wei Yang on the bed and immediately covered him with his body. The entire process took mere moments. Wei Yang felt a wave of dizziness as he sank into the soft mattress, the weight and heat of the body above him making his blood boil. The kiss didn’t stop, but the wet, hot tongue slid from his mouth, trailing down his throat to his collarbone, where it sucked hard. The friction between their hips grew rougher, more urgent.

Wei Yang’s breathing quickened. He leaned down to whisper in Zhang Xiuqi’s ear, his tone teasing: “Getting frisky in broad daylight, huh?”

Zhang Xiuqi lifted his head, his dark eyes locking onto Wei Yang’s. The usual icy gaze was now ablaze with desire and longing, the frozen mountain thawing under the heat of their passion. Under such an intense stare, Wei Yang couldn’t hold back any longer. He bit down on Zhang Xiuqi’s lip, their teeth clashing as their tongues wrestled. Their movements became increasingly chaotic. Though their clothes weren’t many, removing them felt like a battle. When their bare chests finally pressed together, Wei Yang let out a satisfied sigh, his hand slipping down to grasp their equally hard members.

But a hand stopped him, gripping his wrist firmly. Zhang Xiuqi raised himself slightly, continuing his earlier exploration. His tongue moved down Wei Yang’s chest, licking and sucking at his nipples, leaving red marks on the smooth skin. It wasn’t just a frantic release of passion but a deliberate exploration, focused and intense, seeking out the most sensitive spots.

The sensation was strange, as if he were being offered up on an altar for someone’s pleasure. But at the same time, the teasing was more arousing than anything he’d felt before. When Zhang Xiuqi’s tongue dipped into his navel and a hand began to knead the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, Wei Yang gasped, his fingers brushing against Zhang Xiuqi’s reddened earlobe as he whispered, “Brother Qi, did you watch some videos to practice? Your skills have improved…”

Before he could finish his teasing, the fingers rubbing his thigh moved further inward, not to grip his throbbing erection, but to press firmly against his perineum. Stars exploded behind Wei Yang’s eyes as his thighs tensed, his hips bucking upward, only to be pushed back down by a stronger force. Zhang Xiuqi’s face was now close to Wei Yang’s hard cock, his wet lips just a hair’s breadth away, but he didn’t touch it. Instead, he licked the thin layer of sweat that had gathered in Wei Yang’s groin.

“Not videos. Taoist texts.” Ignoring the twitching member, Zhang Xiuqi sat up slightly, positioning himself between Wei Yang’s legs. One hand continued to massage the sensitive perineum, while the other lifted Wei Yang’s knee, his teeth gently biting the soft skin behind it.

The rough fingers, the hard teeth, the soft lips, and the hot length rubbing against his cleft—Wei Yang felt like his eyes were on fire. If not for the two previous occasions where he had personally confirmed Zhang Xiuqi’s inexperience, he would’ve thought the man was a seasoned lover. But Zhang Xiuqi wasn’t. A genuine virgin who had learned such skills from Taoist texts? This guy was truly a prodigy…

But no matter how much his mind wandered, the sight before him and the heat building inside him were enough to melt any remaining rationality. Wei Yang reached out again, trying to grab his own cock for some more direct stimulation, but his hand was once again pushed aside.

Zhang Xiuqi’s hand brushed against the tip of Wei Yang’s cock, gathering the slick precum before finally wrapping around it firmly: “Let me do it.”

His tone wasn’t a request or a question.

Wei Yang’s heart pounded wildly. His lips felt parched, and he desperately wanted to kiss something, to suck on something. Without hesitation, he propped himself up, wrapped his arms around Zhang Xiuqi’s shoulders, and kissed him again. The kiss was urgent, as if they were fighting for each other’s breath. But the fingers pressing against his perineum shifted slightly, pressing against the tight ring of muscle there. Wei Yang groaned. He hadn’t been expecting this, but he didn’t resist, because the person kissing him was just as desperate. The hard length rubbing against his thigh was scorching hot.

He was Zhang Xiuqi’s first, his only, the sole person who had driven him to study Taoist texts and learn the art of lovemaking. This sense of exclusivity surpassed even Wei Yang’s deeply ingrained male pride and the fear of being taken, of being invaded. Instead, it evoked a intoxicating hunger. Zhang Xiuqi’s fingers pushed past the tight ring of muscle, pressing firmly against the prostate. Wei Yang’s arms gave out, and he nearly fell back onto the bed.

“Does the Taoist text… also teach… this?” Wei Yang gasped, struggling to form a coherent sentence.

“I read a lot. But it’s… still too tight.” Zhang Xiuqi’s voice was also beginning to falter. “Supplies… in the bag.”

His hand left Wei Yang’s cock, propping himself up on the bed. He seemed to hesitate, unsure whether to get up and retrieve the items.

But Wei Yang, finally catching his breath, chuckled softly: “You didn’t bring some traditional recipe, did you? There’s also some under the pillow…”

He wouldn’t admit that he had prepared everything so thoroughly, but Zhang Xiuqi didn’t waste any time. He pulled his fingers out, lifting Wei Yang slightly to reach under the pillow, where he pulled out a bottle of lubricant. With a flick of his thumb, the cap popped off, and a generous amount of golden liquid poured down Wei Yang’s cleft.

“Fuck.” Wei Yang’s body jerked upward, nearly crashing into Zhang Xiuqi’s chest. “You could’ve waited for me to lie down properly… Shit…”

There was no time to lie down properly. Two fingers were already thrusting back in, forcing their way past the tight entrance. Zhang Xiuqi’s fingers weren’t smooth; the calluses on his fingertips added a rough texture, making the sensation both strange and overwhelming. The fingers pressed firmly against the sensitive spot inside, sending jolts of pleasure through Wei Yang’s body. He clenched his teeth, feeling as if his entire jaw was tingling, wanting to bite down on something.

Before he could adjust, the fingers began to move in and out. The thumb that had been pressing against his perineum shifted, adding to the stimulation. The pleasure was overwhelming, and Wei Yang couldn’t help but writhe, unsure whether he was trying to escape or push into the sensation. His arms tightened around Zhang Xiuqi’s shoulders, almost cutting off the other’s breath.

But after just a few thrusts, Zhang Xiuqi pulled his fingers out and gently pressed Wei Yang back onto the bed. He pushed Wei Yang’s knees apart, breathing heavily: “The texts say that taking it from behind is better… but I want to see you, Ah Yang…”

The husky voice was enough to make Wei Yang melt into a puddle, and the use of his nickname was downright cheating. His cock was so hard it felt like it might burst, and the empty, itching sensation inside him only grew stronger. Wei Yang cursed under his breath: “Then just take me from the front… Ah!”

There was no warning. Zhang Xiuqi’s hard length pushed into him, stretching him open. The thickness and length were overwhelming, as if it were piercing through his intestines. Wei Yang’s voice immediately broke, a mix of pain and desperation in his moan.

Above him, Zhang Xiuqi closed his eyes, sweat already beading on his forehead. He leaned down, gently kissing Wei Yang’s shoulder: “Ah Yang, relax…”

“You’re too… Fuck… Wait a moment…” Wei Yang managed to squeeze out the words, but the thing inside him seemed to grow even harder, stretching him to the point where his lower half felt numb.

“I can’t hold back. It’s too tight.” With that, Zhang Xiuqi began to move, his thrusts slow but not tentative, as if he were testing the waters.

Looking at Zhang Xiuqi’s closed eyes and hearing his heavy breathing, Wei Yang suddenly relaxed, no longer resisting the overwhelming sensation. His Brother Qi was truly a virgin, and he knew all too well how inexperienced men could be. But Zhang Xiuqi wasn’t letting himself go wild; instead, he was struggling to follow what he had learned from the Taoist texts, with a seriousness that was almost endearing.

He loved this Little Celestial Master, more deeply than he had ever realized.

As his body relaxed, Zhang Xiuqi’s thrusts became smoother. It seemed he had found a rhythm, and he remembered where the sensitive spot was. With just a slight adjustment, he hit it dead-on. The head of his cock brushed against Wei Yang’s prostate, sending sparks of pleasure through him. Wei Yang cried out.

“Is it here?” Zhang Xiuqi lifted himself slightly, thrusting a few more times.

“Gently… gently…” Wei Yang felt as if his toes were curling, the pleasure so intense that his half-hard cock was once again fully erect, trapped between their stomachs.

This time, Zhang Xiuqi didn’t listen. He paused for a moment before thrusting harder. The pleasure that had been deliberately held back now overwhelmed Wei Yang. He wrapped his legs tightly around Zhang Xiuqi’s waist, his shoulder blades lifting off the bed as his back arched. Where they were joined, the burning stretch and the overwhelming pleasure alternated, each thrust hitting just the right spot.

Because of their position, Wei Yang’s cock wasn’t getting much friction, only rubbing against his own slick stomach. The head was already shiny with precum, the slit open and leaking, and the urge to come was unbearable. But something was missing, something more…

Amidst his short, desperate moans, Wei Yang reached down to grip his cock, but just like before, Zhang Xiuqi stopped him, pinning his hands to the bed. Zhang Xiuqi’s hips lifted, driving into him hard. The force of the thrust made Wei Yang cry out, and then came the second, the third. His cries turned into gasps, and within a dozen thrusts, Wei Yang felt his cock twitch, a sensation like losing control shooting up his spine. Without any direct stimulation, he came.

The intensity was overwhelming. His heart was beating so fast that his ears were ringing. The wet, sticky sensation spread between his legs, and he realized that Zhang Xiuqi had also come, his head bowed, eyes closed, sweat dripping from his forehead. He looked breathtakingly handsome.

“You’ve… really learned too much…” Wei Yang finally found his voice after a while, panting as he spoke, his throat dry.

Zhang Xiuqi, however, gently rested his forehead against Wei Yang’s neck: “It was too fast. I couldn’t hold back.”

The voice, aside from being slightly breathless, sounded no different from usual, but Wei Yang detected a hint of bashfulness in it. His heart skipped a beat, and he turned his head slightly to bite Zhang Xiuqi’s reddened earlobe, chuckling softly: “Well, you’re still a beginner. We’ll work on your technique slowly…”

“Mm.” This time, Zhang Xiuqi’s response was firm, and he gave a slight thrust of his hips.

Wei Yang’s expression immediately changed, and he gritted his teeth: “Is this what you call ‘slow’?”

Zhang Xiuqi propped himself up on one arm and pulled out his now semi-hard cock. He pressed against Wei Yang’s wet, soft entrance, confirming that there was no injury before nodding: “It’s fine. This time, we’ll go slow.”

“Damn it, wait, Brother Qi…”

The messy conversation was cut off as the bedroom door closed. Lao Ye, having already eaten its fill, had crawled to the living room’s floor-to-ceiling window to bask in the sun. Its head hung low against the floor, letting out a soft, almost pitiful “ah” as if it couldn’t bear the disturbance.

Outside, the sunlight was just right.

– The End –

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  The fleshy part between thumb and index