Two People Are Destined to Be Entangled for Ten Thousand Lifetimes

An unknown amount of time passed.

An enticing aroma of roasted meat awakened Ye Jiuzhou from the abyss of darkness.

The scent was warm and rich, carrying the charred aroma of fat and the sweet stickiness of honey. It was like a gentle hand reaching into the depths of his sunken consciousness, pulling him up bit by bit from the mire of death.

"Cough, cough..."

Ye Jiuzhou coughed violently and slowly opened his heavy eyelids.

The light stung his eyes. He instinctively squinted, and only after his vision gradually adapted did his surroundings slowly become clear.

The first thing that caught his eye was a warm campfire.

The flames danced, making crackling sounds and baking the surrounding air until it was comfortably warm. The orange-red glow cast flickering shadows on the four walls, dispelling the cold and dead silence of the rainy night.

This was a dilapidated mountain god temple. Wind leaked in from all sides, and a large chunk of the roof was missing, revealing the leaden-gray sky outside.

The murals on the walls were mottled and peeling, though half of the mountain god's glaring face could still be vaguely made out.

Sitting by the campfire was a young man who looked about seventeen or eighteen years old.

The youth wore a washed-out cyan cloth robe. The hem of the robe was stained with mud and grass clippings, and the cuffs were worn through with several small holes patched up crookedly.

He was squatting by the fire, entirely focused on turning a wild pheasant roasting on a makeshift wooden spit. His fingers were covered in grease, a foxtail grass hung from his mouth, and he occasionally brushed a layer of golden honey onto the bird.

His facial features were exceptionally handsome, especially those peach-blossom eyes—the outer corners slightly upturned, the pupils reflecting the dancing firelight, flowing with an innate agility and free-spiritedness.

Even in this ruined temple, wearing such shabby old clothes, he seemed to shine brightly, like an unpolished jade casually tossed into the mud.

But this youth's cultivation base...

Ye Jiuzhou subconsciously circulated his remaining divine sense to sweep over him. Just this faint probing made his temples throb, nearly causing him to pass out again.

Early Foundation Establishment stage.

And it was the kind of early Foundation Establishment stage with impure spiritual energy and an unstable foundation.

The five elemental spiritual energies were jumbled together in a mess, and the flow of spiritual energy in his dantian was simply acting up like a joke.

Placed in the Sword God Palace, such aptitude would not even measure up to a floor-sweeping handyman disciple.

It was such an outrageously weak little cultivator who had dragged a heavily injured and dying Soul Formation stage almighty expert like him out of a mud pit?

"Yo, brother, you're awake?"

"You sure are tough, managing to pull through after being poisoned by the Bone-Corroding Poison. I was already getting ready to dig a hole for you."

Hearing the movement, the youth turned his head, revealing a mouthful of neat, white teeth.

His smile was radiant, devoid of any calculation, so pure that it was hard to believe.

Ye Jiuzhou looked at his face, and for some unknown reason, his breath hitched.

He struggled to sit up, but the muscles all over his body felt as heavy as lead.

His bones let out teeth-aching creaks with every tiny movement, and cold sweat slid down his temples.

Right at this moment, he suddenly felt a chilly draft all over his body.

A gust of night wind poured in through the broken window lattice, brushing against his skin.

He looked down.

His entire body instantly stiffened.

His complexion instantly flushed from pale to the color of pig liver.

His clothes... were gone!

The original blood-stained brocade robe was gone, replaced by a set of coarse hemp garments—the fabric was as rough as sandpaper, and it was extremely loose, hanging empty on him. Even more fatally, underneath... he was completely bare!

Which meant that this person.

Had changed his clothes.

Completely and thoroughly!

Although the Yin-Yang Creation Pill had completely reshaped his body into a male physique, the deeply rooted cognition originating from the depths of his soul violently exploded at this moment.

She had been seen.

Her entire body had been seen by a strange man.

"Where are my clothes?"

Ye Jiuzhou suddenly hugged his chest, crossing his arms and tightly binding them against his front.

This action was so instinctive, so subconscious, completely unlike the reaction a towering, indomitable man should have.

His voice was so sharp that it pitched a little, his vocal cords trembling slightly in panic. Those eyes full of killing intent stared fixedly at the youth, his pupils shrinking to the size of pinpricks due to extreme tension.

"You... what did you do to me?"

This kind of reaction didn't seem like a grown man at all; instead, it was like a maiden whose body had just been seen.

Fear.

Shame and indignation.

And a panic that a secret hidden deep in his heart was almost exposed.

His fingers trembled unconsciously, his knuckles turning white from exerting too much force.

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, feeling as if a fishbone was stuck in his throat. Every breath carried an uncontrollable urgency.

Ye Xuan was brushing honey onto the roast chicken in his hands, and was startled by this reaction, nearly dropping his honey brush into the fire.

He looked bafflingly at this youth who was flushed red, entirely tense, and wishing he could shrink himself into a ball, with an expression as if he were looking at some rare and exotic beast.

"Brother, what are you yelling for?"

"Your clothes were covered in poisonous blood, all stuck to your flesh. If I hadn't stripped them off you, the poison would have attacked your heart long ago."

Ye Xuan looked him up and down, his gaze clear and magnanimous, without even a trace of impurity in it.

"Besides, we're both grown men. I have the same parts you have, and mine might even be a bit bigger than yours. Do you really need to be this shy?"

"Acting like a little wife who's been taken liberties with."

"You!"

Ye Jiuzhou trembled all over with anger.

A breath caught in his chest, unable to go up or down, suffocating him until his face turned purple.

He almost failed to catch his breath and passed out.

It wasn't because of his injuries, but purely out of anger at this bastard who had no filter on his mouth.

But he quickly calmed down.

Or rather, fear forced him to calm down. He closed his eyes, restrained all his focus inwardly, and carefully sent his remaining divine sense into his own body.

He looked inward with his divine sense.

Dantian: Although depleted, its structure was intact.

Meridians: Mostly broken, but their flow followed the path of extreme yang and firmness.

Body structure...

Thank goodness.

Everything was normal. It was still a perfect male body. Every detail, every inch of bone, every texture of muscle was the product of the Yin-Yang Creation Divine Pill's reconstruction.

The divine pill's effect was permanent. Unless he died and his dao vanished, no one would be able to tell that he was once a female.

"Phew..."

Ye Jiuzhou let out a long breath, and his extremely tense body finally relaxed a little, but his arms still subconsciously crossed over his chest, refusing to drop down for a long time.

He forcibly suppressed the sense of shame in his heart, using a great deal of effort to return his flushed face back to its usual icy expression.

He looked coldly at Ye Xuan, recovering his aloof arrogance.

"Why didn't you take the storage ring on my body?"

"There are supreme-grade spirit stones and magical treasures inside, all good things."

When he said this, his tone carried a sense of scrutiny.

That was the downward gaze of a Soul Formation stage almighty expert upon an ant-like existence, as well as a distrust of human nature forged through countless trials.

In the cultivation world, murder and looting were the norm.

The law of the jungle was an ironclad rule.

The human heart was the most untrustworthy thing of all.

Faced with a heavily injured and dying Soul Formation realm mighty figure, a lowly Foundation Establishment cultivator was actually not tempted?

Instead of taking his life and stealing his treasures, he saved him, cured his poison, and changed his clothes...

How could such a person exist in this world?

Ye Xuan shrugged, tore off a golden and crispy roasted chicken leg from over the fire, wiped the grease on his knee, and reached out to hand it over.

"That's yours, not mine."

"My mother taught me since I was young that a gentleman loves wealth, but acquires it through proper means."

"Besides, I see a righteous aura between your brows; you don't look like a bad person. If I took your things, what would I do if you slapped me to death when you woke up? I value my life very much."

Ye Xuan spoke with absolute justification, his expression completely candid.

As he gnawed on a chicken wing, grease dripping down his chin, he mumbled indistinctly:

"Also, I saved you purely because you look good."

"It would be too much of a pity for such a good-looking person to die in a mud pit."

"Look good..."

Ye Jiuzhou was stunned.

He had heard countless people evaluate him.

"A heaven-sent genius," "the pinnacle of the Sword Dao," "a limitless future," "highly promising," "a tiger father begets no dog son."

Every evaluation was related to his strength, his background, or his utility.

Yet no one had ever said they saved him simply because he was good-looking.

This reason was utterly absurd.

So absurd that Ye Jiuzhou didn't even know how to refute it.

He looked at the youth in front of him, whose mouth was covered in grease, completely unguarded, and feasting heartily. The hard defensive line in his heart inexplicably loosened a fraction.

It didn't collapse with a bang; it just loosened a corner.

Like a fortress sealed in ice for ten thousand years being blown into a tiny crack by a trivial wisp of warm wind.

He took the greasy chicken leg. The moment his fingers touched it, the sensation on his fingertips was warm and rough, carrying the heat of the campfire and the residual body temperature from the youth's palm.

He hesitated for a moment, then took a bite.

The skin was crispy, the meat tender, and the sweetness of the honey was just right. The outer skin had been roasted to a golden crisp, and a single bite yielded scalding hot juices, wrapping the unique umami of wild pheasant and the fresh fragrance of mountain vegetation, exploding on the tip of his tongue.

This...

Ye Jiuzhou had eaten countless delicacies, dragon livers, and phoenix marrows. The dining hall of the Sword God Palace used thousand-year spirit birds and ten-thousand-year immortal fruits; every dish contained pure spiritual energy.

But this mundane roasted wild pheasant was actually the most delicious thing he had ever eaten in his life.

Perhaps it wasn't the taste of the chicken.

But the warmth of the campfire.

The hands reaching out in the rainstorm.

The only bit of mortal worldly warmth in this ruined temple.

"Is it good?" Ye Xuan asked with a smile, his peach-blossom eyes curving into two crescent moons.

"...Acceptable," Ye Jiuzhou nodded reservedly, his voice returning to its usual indifference, but the fingers holding the chicken leg unconsciously tightened a fraction.

"Acceptable means delicious." Ye Xuan chuckled, pulling a jug of cheap, strong liquor from his robes.

The wine jug was a gourd-shaped rough clay pot, its body chipped with several notches, and the stopper was wrapped in a rag. He pulled out the stopper, and a pungent, spicy smell of alcohol immediately filled the air.

"Want a sip? It wards off the cold."

Ye Jiuzhou frowned, his nostrils flaring slightly, his face showing obvious disgust.

"Wine is a poison that pierces the intestines and muddles the mind. Sword cultivators should not drink."

"Oh, come on."

Ye Xuan rolled his eyes and shoved the wine jug directly into Ye Jiuzhou's hands. The residual warmth on the jug pressed against his cold palm, carrying an unreasonable enthusiasm.

"Living in this world, if there's no fine wine and beauties for company, what's the point of cultivating for immortality? To be a turtle?"

Ye Jiuzhou was angered into a laugh by his vulgar comparison.

He actually laughed.

Not a fake smile, but an unexpected, uncontrollable smile spilling from the corners of his mouth.

He surprised himself.

How long had it been since he laughed like this?

As if possessed, he raised the wine jug, tilted his head back, and took a gulp.

"Cough, cough, cough..."

The spicy liquor went down his throat like a red-hot iron chain rolling from his mouth all the way to the bottom of his stomach.

Tears were choked out of him, hanging on his eyelashes and shining in the light of the campfire. He coughed and frowned, his expression twisting as if he had swallowed a live toad.

But as a warm current rose in his stomach and flowed slowly along his broken meridians, his body, cold from severe injuries, actually began to warm up.

This warmth didn't just stay on the surface of his body; it penetrated deep into a place that had been frozen for far too long.

"Refreshing!"

Ye Xuan laughed heartily, took a gulp himself, grimaced at the burn, and then laughed again.

When he laughed, the entire ruined temple seemed to brighten a bit.

"I am Ye Xuan. The Xuan as in 'profound mystery'."

He held out a greasy hand.

Ye Jiuzhou looked at that hand, silent for two breaths of time.

"I am... Ye Jiuzhou."

He didn't reach out to shake it. But his gaze lingered on Ye Xuan's palm for a moment: it was covered with calluses and tiny scars, the marks left by years of wielding a sword and surviving in the wild.

"Jiuzhou? Ha! That's a domineering name, just like you, cold as ice."

Ye Xuan grinned broadly, not minding the other's coldness in the slightest.

He pulled his hand back, wiped the grease on his clothes, tore off another piece of chicken, and stuffed it into his mouth, his cheeks bulging like a squirrel's.

That night.

A campfire in the ruined temple, amidst the gloomy storm.

The heavy rain outside the temple still hadn't stopped, and thunder rolled among the distant mountains, like a god sighing softly.

The firelight flickered and danced between the two, casting their shadows on the ruined walls, overlapping and indistinguishable from one another.

Ye Xuan, wrapped in a straw raincoat, leaned against a collapsed idol and soon fell fast asleep.

His sleeping posture was terrible; his mouth was slightly open, drool running down his chin, and he occasionally let out satisfied grunts, as if he were still eating roast chicken in his dreams.

Ye Jiuzhou sat on the other side of the campfire, his back against the cold stone wall.

He did not sleep.

He looked at that completely unguarded face in the firelight, his brows slightly furrowed.

He was pondering a question.

Why wasn't this person afraid of him?

He was a mighty figure of the Soul Formation realm. Even though he was heavily injured and dying, the residual pressure on his body was enough to terrify any Foundation Establishment cultivator.

Yet this youth named Ye Xuan had acted from beginning to end like he was chatting with a neighborly older brother—no fear, no flattery, and no ulterior motives.

There was only a kindness so clean it was unsettling.

Two people whose names were destined to be entangled for ten thousand lifetimes forged their bond at this very moment.