Chapter Sixty-Eight: Devouring You

Upon hearing Lu Chenyuan’s earnest “I’m sorry,” Shangguan Chuci felt her heart inexplicably pounding, her bright eyes widening slightly, and two captivating blushes blooming on her otherwise pale and delicate face.

Since she had walked the jianghu, her sharp tongue had bested countless gifted scholars and masters; never before had a simple, unadorned sentence from a young man left her so utterly at a loss.

Though she prided herself on her quick wits, in this moment she found her mouth dry and could not think of a suitable response.

At last, she coughed lightly, forcing herself to calm down. She tapped her white jade folding fan gently in her palm, her gaze drifting elsewhere as she spoke:

“Brother Lu, you overstate it. Since we are allies, it is only right we watch out for each other. I have placed my bet on you, so naturally I must accept some risk. That risk includes misunderstandings born of your lack of trust.”

She paused, seeming to recover some of her usual composure, and the hint of a smile flickered at the corner of her lips.

“Of course, now that you have come to your senses, I am truly relieved.”

Seeing her like this, Lu Chenyuan felt the heavy weight of their misunderstanding lift from his heart, and found her all the more intriguing. Watching her evasive gaze and the faint blush creeping over her ears, he could not help but smile with innocent warmth.

As if recalling something, Lu Chenyuan said, “Master Chu, just now as my spirit drifted through the sea of the heart, I noticed that your star seemed brighter than before—its radiance flowing, as if it had drawn much closer.”

Shangguan Chuci was startled. “Really?” she blurted out.

The words had barely left her lips when she saw the mischievous glint in the young man’s eyes. Realizing she had been played, her lovely face flushed even deeper, nearly crimson with embarrassment and annoyance, yet she found herself unable to vent her feelings.

Lu Chenyuan found her reaction even more amusing, but feared she might truly be angered. He quickly stifled his laughter, scratched his head, and said with a rueful smile, “I was only speaking nonsense. Entering the sea of the heart is a matter of fate—right now, I still don’t fully understand it myself.”

“Honestly! You fool, you’re getting more unruly by the day!” Shangguan Chuci, both shy and exasperated, reached out a slender finger, intending to give his forehead a light knock. But halfway there, she realized the gesture was too intimate and hastily withdrew her hand, shooting him a glare instead.

Lu Chenyuan took no offense, chuckling and imitating her usual tone: “Have you forgotten, Master Chu? To treat someone with courtesy is to regard them as a guest; but to speak without a shred of restraint is to regard them as a true friend. We’ve stood side by side, taken lives together, you’ve shielded me from a blade, I’ve bled for you—if that doesn’t make us confidants, then I doubt there are many true friends in this world.”

Hearing her own words echoed back at her so perfectly, Shangguan Chuci was rendered speechless, unable to retort. All she could do was huff and snap, “Brother Lu, I imagine in your last life you were a parrot reincarnated!”

“How so?” he asked.

“All you do is imitate me—so terribly annoying!” Though her words were sharp, her eyes sparkled with laughter, with not a trace of real anger left.

Lu Chenyuan, seeing this, felt the last of his burdens melt away—even the pain from the wound on his chest seemed to lessen.

They exchanged a smile, and the earlier awkwardness and tension dissolved in the easy banter between them.

Seeing the light return to his face, Shangguan Chuci finally relaxed. Her gaze shifted to the wooden puppet by the bedside, and her expression grew grave. She asked, “By the way, you used that puppet just now to perform a Daoist art. Has it changed in any way?”

Lu Chenyuan picked up the puppet and examined it carefully. “It doesn’t seem to have changed at all,” he replied.

Shangguan Chuci frowned. “Although you’ve formed some sort of bond with it, this thing was forged through sinister and poisonous sorcery. Such a connection—who’s to say whether it’s a blessing or a curse?”

“It gives me an uneasy feeling. Maybe after you’ve finally earned its full favor, it’ll end up devouring you instead.”

She paused, then cautioned him earnestly, “Brother Lu, please be careful. If you notice anything strange, be sure to consult with me immediately.”

“Master Chu, your advice is sound.” Lu Chenyuan nodded thoughtfully. Staring at the puppet’s innocent yet unsettling face, he suddenly thought of the moon and the star within his own sea of the heart, and murmured to himself, “I wonder—if the star in the sea of the heart shone at its brightest, what would it be like?”

He spoke without thinking, but Shangguan Chuci’s heart skipped a beat at his words. Looking into his clear eyes, her cheeks grew hot again and she instinctively averted her gaze. Her voice, barely above a whisper, trembled as she said, “If… if you really have the ability to max out my ‘favorability’ as well, then perhaps… perhaps I might end up devouring you too.”

Lu Chenyuan, lost in thought, hadn’t heard her clearly. He looked up and asked, “What did you just say, Master Chu?”

Shangguan Chuci’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. She snapped her white jade fan open with a swift motion to cover half her face, leaving only her flustered, angry eyes visible, and stammered, “Nothing! I was just talking nonsense. It’s for the best if you didn’t hear clearly!”

Lu Chenyuan found her reaction odd, but thought little of it.

Suddenly recalling Daoist Li’s words, he asked, “By the way, Master Chu, do you know what that ‘Taiyi’ Li spoke of actually is?”

At this, Shangguan Chuci composed herself and pondered. “The ancient texts say that Taiyi is the origin of the Dao, the gateway to all mysteries, the primordial god. But Li is a heretic—a demonic sorcerer. The ‘Taiyi’ he speaks of may not be exactly the same as in the orthodox teachings; I cannot say.”

Though she said this aloud, inwardly she thought, “I had hoped to ask your master about this, but in the end, I was too late.”

Lu Chenyuan looked disappointed.

Seeing this, Shangguan Chuci remembered his wounds were only just healing, and he should not dwell too deeply on troubling matters. She offered a few more words of encouragement about his recovery and then took her leave.

After she departed, the woodshed fell silent once more.

Lu Chenyuan’s gaze returned to the puppet in his hands, his mind churning with thoughts. “Manager Qian entrusted me with his last wish, and by a twist of fate, I owe my life to this puppet. Such karma—truly impossible to unravel. But he died in haste, never telling me where his granddaughter is. For now, I can only take things one step at a time.”

He carefully put the puppet away. Feeling a wave of exhaustion, he soon fell into a deep, restful sleep—the most peaceful slumber he’d known in a long time.

When he awoke again, it was already afternoon of the next day. He felt refreshed, the pain in his chest greatly lessened; when he tried to stand, he found he could walk, albeit slowly.

Just then, a commotion erupted in the inn’s front hall, mingled with the clatter of armor and the thud of official boots—a clear sign that government officers had arrived.

Lu Chenyuan’s heart stirred. Listening carefully, he realized it was the Demon Suppression Division—after two days’ delay, they had finally come to investigate.