At dawn, Ji Chun lay in a deep sleep, his brows tightly furrowed as an unbearable heat consumed his body. It felt as if he had been thrown into a furnace, the scorching sensation searing through his skin. Yet, this heat did not come from within him—it was an external force, pressing against him, suffocating in its intensity.
Uncomfortable, he instinctively tried to push away the unknown source of warmth beside him, only to find his legs firmly entwined, locked in place by something—or someone. His breath came out in hot, ragged puffs, nearly smoking in the cold morning air. Just as his fevered mind teetered on the edge of wakefulness, a sudden force struck his lower back, sending him tumbling off the bed.
"Ugh…" The sharp pain jolted him fully awake. He pressed a hand against his aching forehead, his thick brows drawing together in a deep frown as he looked up at the bed.
Memories from the previous night gradually surfaced. So, he had shared a bed with this person.
Perhaps he had caught a chill the night before, for his head now felt clouded and heavy. The oppressive heat that had tormented him moments ago was now replaced by an unsettling chill. Still dazed, he rubbed his sore waist and looked at the person on the bed, wondering why he had been kicked off so suddenly. Was this man going to change his attitude again? His emotions were unpredictable, as fleeting as the wind.
Su Ran lay sprawled across the bed, his robes in disarray. His face was flushed red, a feverish hue that deepened to the color of blood, sweat beading across his skin and trickling down in shimmering trails. The pillow and sheets beneath him were already soaked.
His lips, cracked and dry, trembled as he mumbled incoherently. At times, he would part his lips slightly, drawing in fresh air as if struggling to breathe.
Seeing this, Ji Chun quickly reached for the blanket, attempting to cover Su Ran properly to prevent his condition from worsening. But just as he draped the fabric over him, Su Ran, consumed by unbearable heat, erupted in a violent frenzy, shredding the blanket to pieces.
Then, without warning, Su Ran's eyes snapped open.
His gaze, usually deep and enigmatic, now gleamed with a dangerous crimson hue, locking onto Ji Chun like a beast sighting its prey. His chest heaved with each ragged breath, his fingers gripping the torn bedding so tightly that the fabric began to tear apart at the seams.
"You…" Ji Chun hesitated, his heart pounding. Was this… qi deviation?
Something about the way Su Ran looked at him sent a chill down his spine. That gaze, filled with wild arrogance and untamed dominance, was eerily familiar—like the first time he had ever laid eyes on this man. In that moment, he was acutely aware of the vast gap between their strengths.
Concern flickered through him. Ji Chun instinctively leaned down to check Su Ran's condition, only to be yanked forward by a sudden, forceful grip on his arm. Before he could react, he lost his balance and fell onto Su Ran's chest.
The moment his cheek touched Su Ran's bare skin, it felt like he had pressed against a slab of burning iron. The scorching heat sent a numb tingle through his ears, and he immediately propped himself up to push away. But beneath him, Su Ran groaned in discomfort, his grip momentarily loosening. Ji Chun seized the chance to break free, but before he could escape entirely, Su Ran's fingers tightened again, this time with even greater force.
Pain shot through Ji Chun's arm. He frowned, his patience thinning, as he glared down at Su Ran, who lay half-conscious, trapped in fevered agony. He didn't understand what this man was trying to do. And what shocked him even more was that, despite his illness, Su Ran's strength was overwhelming—far greater than when he had been gravely injured days ago.
But what happened next truly left Ji Chun speechless.
Su Ran suddenly reached forward and grasped the front of Ji Chun's robes, yanking him down. Already off balance, Ji Chun fell further onto the bed. Then, in a swift movement, Su Ran's leg hooked around him, restraining his body completely. With one forceful turn, he flipped Ji Chun over, pinning him beneath him.
Ji Chun, a grown man, had never been subdued in such a humiliating manner before. His self-restraint wavered. Gritting his teeth, he pushed against Su Ran's chest with all his strength. As soon as there was a sliver of space between them, he gathered his internal energy, ready to strike. But just as his palm was about to land, Su Ran's hand shot up, blocking his attack with precision.
In the same breath, Su Ran's other hand found a key acupuncture point on Ji Chun's body and pressed down. A surge of energy locked his meridians in place—his attack instantly rendered powerless.
"What are you doing?!" Ji Chun growled, his breath heavy with frustration. His sharp gaze burned with unyielding anger, mixed with traces of humiliation and disbelief.
Su Ran ignored him. His fevered face, flushed a deep shade of red, was half-lidded, his breaths heavy and unsteady. Just as Ji Chun gathered his remaining strength to resist, Su Ran suddenly lowered his head.
Ji Chun barely had time to register what was happening before he felt a sharp pain—Su Ran had bitten down on his neck.
"Ugh—!" Ji Chun let out a muffled groan, his body tensing. He could feel the puncture in his skin, a dull sting spreading from the wound. Then, a strange sensation followed—a warm, wet tongue gliding over the bite, sending a jolt through his nerves.
Outside, the rain fell in a steady rhythm, washing away the dust of the world. Inside the dimly lit room, beneath the tangled sheets, two figures entwined—crossing the boundaries of tradition, morality, and restraint.
Time blurred. When Su Ran finally collapsed into unconsciousness, Ji Chun, too, lay exhausted, draped over his fevered body.
Slowly, the fog in Su Ran's mind began to clear. But as awareness returned, so did the unbearable soreness wracking his limbs. His entire body ached, his eyes swollen with exhaustion. He tried to lift his arm, only to find himself weighed down. His chest felt heavy, as if a boulder had been placed upon it, making it difficult to breathe.
Finally, he opened his eyes.
Rage ignited instantly.
Summoning every ounce of his remaining strength, he raised his palm, ready to strike down the man weighing on him. But before he could unleash his fury, Ji Chun's hand shot out, firmly seizing his wrist.
Su Ran's glare sharpened, his expression twisted with fury and bloodlust.
"Get out!" he rasped, his voice hoarse and raw. His body trembled with rage, his once-mighty presence reduced to a vulnerable, broken state.
The man who had once commanded fear and reverence, the Sect Leader of the Demonic Cult, the one destined to dominate the martial world—was now left in this wretched condition. The weight of disgrace crushed him.
He turned away, his face contorted with pain, and silent tears slipped down his cheeks.
Ji Chun rose from the bed, gathering his scattered robes without a word. He had nothing to say—nothing that could change what had happened.
Stepping outside, he was met with a misty curtain of rain. A cold wind brushed against his face, momentarily clearing his troubled mind. But inside, everything remained in turmoil.
He was a monk, having entered the temple as a child to observe a life of vegetarianism, prayer, martial arts, and scripture recitation. As he grew older, he occasionally heard his senior brothers discuss worldly matters, but he never felt any need for such things. Yet today, as he recalled all that had transpired, he found himself unfamiliar—almost unrecognizable. Had his nature always been this filthy, this despicable? His master's earnest teachings, the high hopes placed upon him—and what had he done in return? He had committed something that utterly shamed his sect.
Regret and guilt twisted together, making the world around him feel strangely different. He couldn't understand—why had he acted as if possessed, as if consumed by madness, tormenting that man so mercilessly? A monk was forbidden from even being close to a woman, let alone violating the natural order and forcing a man into such an unspeakable act. It was an unforgivable sin.
A monk. A man who had devoted his life to discipline and restraint. He had betrayed his own principles, defiling both himself and another.
He did not recognize himself anymore.
As the rain continued to fall, he made up his mind. He would find food—perhaps not for himself, but for the man inside, who had suffered just as much.
And perhaps, in some small way, he could atone.
The cold rain fell upon his head and shoulders, soaking his robes, but he paid it no mind. On the contrary, he felt an unprecedented sense of relief. He picked a few fruits, gathered them into a basket under the small shelter, and his gaze fell upon the rushing stream nearby.
Lowering his eyes to the fruit in his hands, he pondered for a moment before heading toward the stream. With swift precision, he caught two fish and returned to the shelter. Placing them in a basin, he pressed his palms together and silently recited a sutra to absolve them. But the conflict in his heart only deepened.
On the stove lay a dagger—likely left behind by the man last night. He hesitated for a moment, the image of Su Ran's frail back flashing in his mind. The guilt within him swelled. Clenching his teeth, he made a swift cut. Blood instantly coated his hand, startling him. He stared at it, dazed…
Shaking his head, he forced aside the chaotic emotions and quietly continued preparing the fish.
Inside the room, Su Ran had finished dressing. He yanked the disheveled bedding from the bed and threw it to the ground. These sheets bore witness to his humiliation.
Sitting in a chair for a long time, he contemplated everything. Since it had already happened, he had no choice but to face it. He was no ordinary man—he was Su Ran, the master of a great sect, the future leader of the martial world, the ruler of all under heaven!
Cowering in a corner, drowning in self-pity and resentment, was not his way. Su Ran had always repaid his grudges in full. That monk—he would make sure to torment him thoroughly, to the point where he would beg for death but find no escape!
With this resolve, Su Ran forced himself to cast aside the past and focus on circulating his inner energy. He had expected his strength to diminish significantly after this latest episode of poisoning, yet to his surprise, there was no change. Though his internal power hadn't recovered, the mere fact that it hadn't weakened was enough to fill him with cautious optimism.
He needed to leave this mountain as soon as possible, find that man Xue Yao, and force out the location of the Valley of the Medicine Sage. Only then could he cleanse himself of the poison, restore his strength, and unify the martial world! At this thought, his gaze sharpened. Di Mang… Ouyang Yixun…
It seemed he would have to "get along" with that monk for a little while longer.
Just as this thought crossed his mind, he heard footsteps approaching. Quickly composing himself, he turned to see the monk, Ji Chun, entering with a blank expression. Ji Chun carried a basin of hot water, a towel draped over his arm. He placed the basin on the table, hung the towel on the edge, and spoke in a low, steady voice. "Wash up. Come out to eat when you're done." With that, he turned and left, his steps slightly hurried.
Su Ran lifted his eyes and cast a cold glance at the monk before shifting his gaze to the steaming water. He did feel the need to cleanse his body of its filth.
After thoroughly washing himself, he felt significantly better, his gloom lifting slightly. The monk had mentioned food—surely it was just more fruit? Scoffing to himself, he silently vowed that once he left here, he would make sure to slaughter dozens of fish right in front of that man!
But the moment he stepped outside, a rich, savory aroma filled the air. Su Ran froze in place, suspicion rising within him. That monk wouldn't have…?
Stepping out, he found Ji Chun seated on a small stool under the shelter, staring pensively at the fish roasting over the fire. In his hand, he held a half-eaten fruit. The sight left Su Ran genuinely stunned.