C191 — Kill that Nine-Tailed Fox(27）

Shen Jue heard the voice, shifted slightly to the side, and then turned his head, looking at Jiang Yunji with doubt.

Jiang Yunji lowered his eyes a little and said softly, “I’m not feeling well, I want to go back first.”

Hearing this, Shen Jue couldn’t help glancing at Xie Chen on the stage. Though young, Xie Chen fought calmly, never rushing his attacks. He first studied the demonic cultivator’s techniques one by one before dismantling them with ease.

“Yuqing!” Jiang Yunji spoke again beside him, this time with a tone of urging.

Shen Jue had no choice but to stand. “Then let’s go. Can you walk?”

“I can barely walk. Could you support me?” Jiang Yunjì lifted his eyes, looking at Shen Jue uneasily. Shen Jue studied him carefully; though his face was ruddy and showed no signs of illness, Shen Jue still extended his hand.

Jiang Yunji immediately grasped Shen Jue’s hand and used it to stand. As they walked, he practically leaned his entire weight against Shen Jue.

Some fellow disciples familiar with Jiang Yunji came forward and asked, “Yunji, what’s wrong?”

“I’m not feeling well, I want to rest at the inn,” Jiang Yunji said

“I’ll escort you back then. Riding a sword will get us there quickly,” one of them offered, already reaching to help him.

But Jiang Yunji quickly stepped back several times. “No, no need. Senior Brother, stay and watch the match. I can go back myself.”

Shen Jue froze. Those backward steps didn’t look like someone unwell at all. He turned his gaze on Jiang Yunji, eyes cooling. “Since you can go back by yourself, then go.”

Jiang Yunji stiffened, disbelief flooding his eyes, but Shen Jue had already turned back, returning to his seat.

The well-meaning senior brother looked awkward, hesitated a long while before saying, “Yunji, how about I take you anyway?”

“No… no need. Thank you, Senior Brother.” Jiang Yunji withdrew his gaze from Shen Jue. “I… I can… I can go myself.”

He left the tournament grounds. On his way out, he couldn’t help but glance back toward Shen Jue, though he couldn’t clearly see Shen Jue’s expression. He could guess, however, that Shen Jue’s attention was fixed on the stage.

On the stage stood Senior Brother Xie Chen.

His Yuqing would always only look at Senior Brother Xie Chen.

As long as Xie Chen was there, his Yuqing would never notice him.

“Are you very angry?” A sudden voice rang beside Jiang Yunji’s ear. The unexpectedness of it didn’t make him turn—he only clenched his jaw and said, “I won’t cooperate with you.”

“Really not?” The voice was faint but piercingly clear, each word impossible to ignore. “You wouldn’t even need to do much—just lure Xie Chen over. That’s all.”

“You call him senior brother, but he doesn’t treat you like a junior brother. He already has a nine-tailed fox, yet he covets your Azure Dragon too. Isn’t that excessive?”

Jiang Yunji’s expression darkened further and further with the voice’s every word.

“As long as he’s gone, you won’t need to worry about your dragon running off with him. If you really can’t bear to make the move yourself, why not let me help?”

Jiang Yunjì fixed his gaze on Xie Chen in the arena for a long time before finally saying, “How?”

“Lend me your body.”

——

Shen Jue only returned to the inn after watching all the matches. On the way back, he stopped by a medicine shop. Next to it was a pastry store. Shen Jue paused to look, and after a moment, he still stepped inside and bought a few pieces of pastry.

 

Because disciples of the Tianshui Sect were required to practice fasting, Shen Jue stored the pastries in his storage ring, only taking them out once he entered the room.

“Jiang Yunji.” Shen Jue placed the items on the table. Seeing the bed curtains tightly drawn, he frowned.

Could Jiang Yunji really be sick, and not lying to him?

With that thought, Shen Jue walked to the bed, calling Jiang Yunji’s name as he reached out to lift the curtain. The person on the bed lay with his back to him, motionless.

“Are you alright?” Shen Jue leaned in, trying to see Jiang Yunji’s face. But just as he leaned closer, the person on the bed suddenly turned his head.

Shen Jue was startled, his heart skipping a beat.

Jiang Yunjì’s face was pale. Seeing it was Shen Jue, he struggled to rise. “Yuqing, you’re back, I—”

“Don’t get up.” Shen Jue stopped him. Jiang Yunji’s complexion didn’t look like he was faking illness. Shen Jue reached out to touch his forehead and found the skin burning hot. Relieved that he had bought some common remedies before returning, he said, “I bought medicine. Take it and then sleep.”

Jiang Yunji seemed to have caught a chill. Cultivators might live long lives, but they were still human in essence, and could still contract illnesses common to mortals.

Shen Jue pulled his hand back and called for the inn servant to decoct the medicine. After Jiang Yunji drank it, he soon fell asleep. Shen Jue checked on him occasionally, and when the fever on his forehead finally lessened, he transformed into his dragon form and slept in the water tank.

——

The next morning, when Shen Jue woke, Jiang Yunji was already up. Seeing Shen Jue awake, he smiled. “Yuqing, are you going to watch the matches today?”

“Are you well again?” Shen Jue asked.

Jiang Yunji nodded. “I’m fine now. If we’re going to watch, let’s go early—I’m afraid we won’t get good seats later. I heard many demonic cultivators are fighting today.”

Demonic cultivators? Was Xue Wenchun’s match today?

Shen Jue considered it, then decided to go with Jiang Yunji. This time, he wore yet another disguise, taking on the face of the physician from yesterday’s apothecary.

When they stepped out, they happened to run into Xie Chen and Fu Jiuyin.

For once, Fu Jiuyin wasn’t dressed in red. He wore a light blue robe, his long hair bound with a jade coronet of the same color. When he saw the two of them, his narrow fox-like eyes blinked, and after a glance at Shen Jue, he flicked the feather fan in his hand. “You’re going to watch the matches too?”

“Mm.” Jiang Yunji answered, then looked at Xie Chen. “Senior Brother Xie, you don’t have a match today, right?”

“No,” Xie Chen replied coolly.

Jiang Yunji made an “oh” sound. “My match is tomorrow. I’m a little nervous. Everyone seems so strong—I doubt I’ll even get past the preliminaries.”

Hearing this, Shen Jue’s brows furrowed ever so slightly. He didn’t like others admitting weakness so easily. Since Jiang Yunji had signed a contract with him, Jiang Yunjì’s weakness meant his weakness. Though it was true, hearing it spoken aloud by his own partner left a bitter taste. He glanced at Jiang Yunji. “Let’s go.”

“Hey, don’t rush. We’re all going to watch—why not go together?” Fu Jiuyin’s eyes flicked slyly, clearly scheming something, though Shen Jue doubted it was anything good.

But Jiang Yunjj agreed. When they sat down, Jiang Yunji said he wanted to consult Xie Chen and deliberately sat next to him. For some reason, Fu Jiuyin slid into the seat beside Shen Jue.

Xie Chen noticed, his gaze flicking subtly toward their side.

“Little stinky dragon,” Fu Jiuyin drawled lazily, looking straight ahead, “in a few days, it’ll be our turn to compete. I wonder if we’ll be matched against each other?”

Shen Jue also kept his eyes fixed forward, his expression calm. “Of course we will.”

Fu Jiuyin’s lips curved at that, then he turned his gaze on Shen Jue. “Why are you so sure?”

“Because I’ll call you out by name.” Shen Jue had already thought about it. Fu Jiuyin was indifferent to everyone except Xie Chen, but he remembered the strong—like how he remembered Xue Wenchun.

If Shen Jue kept avoiding him, Fu Jiuyin probably wouldn’t even notice him, much less remember him.

“Good backbone,” Fu Jiuyin chuckled softly, leaning closer. “So, how many dragon scales are you planning to let me tear off this time?”

Shen Jue turned his head, meeting Fu Jiuyin’s eyes without flinching. “Don’t know. But has your tail grown its fur back yet? I haven’t seen you take your true form. Don’t tell me it’s still bald?” He gave a sudden faint smile. “Old folks—slower hair growth is understandable.”

Fu Jiuyin: “…”

A vein jumped at his temple. For the first time, someone had genuinely gotten under his skin. Proud as he was of his beauty, he’d never once heard such words. Everyone who saw him praised him. Never before had someone dared insult him to his face—let alone call him old.

“Talking with Xie Chen must give you a generation gap. His age isn’t even a fraction of yours.” Shen Jue went on, “I happen to have a few pills that can help with—”

Before he could finish, Fu Jiuyin slapped a silencing charm on him.

Fu Jiuyin patted Shen Jue’s cheek, his smile cold. “Little stinky dragon, keep running your mouth, and I’ll rip out those pretty little teeth of yours.”

Shen Jue’s response was a disdainful roll of his eyes.

Fu Jiuyin’s grip on his fan tightened, anger flaring. He couldn’t start a fight here—otherwise Xie Chen would be at his throat. He’d endure for now. On the arena, he’d grind this insolent little dragon into the ground.

Their barbed exchange fell into silence. Fu Jiuyin lost interest in talking, turning back toward the stage. Shen Jue, meanwhile, searched the crowd until he spotted Xue Wenchun.

The Anhun Sect’s seats were directly opposite the Tianshui Sect’s. All their disciples wore black—except the person in front. Dressed in white and carrying a black umbrella, Xue Wenchun stood out starkly.

He hadn’t shown up yesterday.

Xue Wenchun’s gaze seemed directed toward the Tianshui Sect’s side. Shen Jue glanced at Fu Jiuyin, only to find him seemingly oblivious.
Of course—someone as arrogant as Fu Jiuyin wouldn’t be afraid of Xue Wenchun.

“Why are you staring at me?”

Fu Jiuyin suddenly turned, lifting Shen Jue’s chin with a hand. “By the way, little stinky dragon, there’s a big bad wolf here who just loves ancient beasts. You’d better keep your tail hidden.”

His words were vague, but his hand slid upward along Shen Jue’s jawline as he spoke.

Shen Jue’s brows furrowed sharply, and he immediately cast an ice spell at Fu Jiuyin. Fu Jiuyin only laughed, dodging with ease.

Many had already been sneaking glances at Fu Jiuyin. With this sudden commotion, even more eyes turned their way. And when those eyes followed Fu Jiuyin’s gaze and landed on Shen Jue—several people audibly gasped.

Seeing the amusement glinting in Fu Jiuyin’s eyes, Shen Jue finally understood.

Fu Jiuyin wanted to divert the trouble, to draw Xue Wenchun’s attention onto him. That was why he’d deliberately sat next to him, why he’d intentionally dispelled his disguise.

Shen Jue’s gaze flicked across the arena. Sure enough, Xue Wenchun’s face was tilted in their direction.

Shen Jue pressed his lips together and, after a long pause, finally looked back at Fu Jiuyin. Fu Jiuyin was standing less than a zhang away, the corners of his lips slightly curved, as if savoring his embarrassment.

At that moment, the sound of a gong struck on the arena stage—the current match had ended, and the next participants were to enter.

At the same time, a commotion rose among the crowd. Startled, Shen Jue looked over and saw that it was Xue Wenchun stepping onto the stage.

Xue Wenchun stood tall upon the arena, his ink-black hair cascading down to his ankles. His pale brows and eyes were forever shrouded with a haze of demonic qi, making his entire presence even more oppressive and somber.

He had never before taken part in the Celestial-Demon Duel—this was his first time. As a result, all cultivators present couldn’t help but look toward him, even Xie Chen couldn’t avoid doing so.

His opponent was also a demon cultivator. The man stepped onto the stage and, trembling, gave a respectful salute to Xue Wenchun. But before he could even speak, his body was torn cleanly into two halves.

An uproar swept through the audience; even the judges on the reviewing platform were stunned.

“Apologies, I slipped. So how should this be ruled?” Xue Wenchun lifted his gaze toward the judges. Though his words carried the shape of apology, his eyes held not a trace of it.

After a long, dead silence, the gong finally sounded.

“Xue Wenchun of the Anhun Sect wins, advancing to the next round.”

His victory was absolute, rendering further matches unnecessary. With no expression, Xue Wenchun left the stage, not forgetting to take his black parasol with him.

But as he descended, he cast a glance toward the Tianshui Sect’s seating. At that same instant, Shen Jue’s mind reverberated with a voice:

“You haven’t taken back your dragon blood.”

 

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