ATAVID CH91

Compared to Jiang Qunyu’s stiff limbs, Wei Xun was clearly adjusting well. From time to time, his fingertips would pinch Jiang Qunyu’s hand, and he would even lean over to compare the sizes of their palms, looking as though he found everything about Jiang Qunyu endlessly fascinating and fresh.

Yet, if any ghost cultivator dared to steal a few extra glances in their direction, Wei Xun would immediately sweep a dark, brooding glare over, scaring several of them so badly that they fainted dead away on the spot.

On one hand, Jiang Qunyu felt these ghost cultivators were utterly pathetic—they were already ghosts, yet they possessed such microscopic courage—but on the other hand, he felt Wei Xun’s streak of madness was acting up again. He snapped irritably, “They’re just looking at you. Is there any need for such a massive reaction?”

Wei Xun curled his lips into a cold, sinister sneer, correcting him darkly, “They aren’t looking at me. They are looking at you.”

Jiang Qunyu didn’t care in the slightest. “Let them look. It’s not like I’ll lose a piece of meat over it.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Wei Xun’s eyelids instantly drooped. His brow pressed down incredibly low, and his pitch-black eyes darted around, calculating who-knows-what.

Seeing him fall silent, Jiang Qunyu mistakenly assumed he had finally reasoned with the man. Before he could even let out a proper sigh of relief, he heard Wei Xun speak in an eerie, ghostly murmur, “The ghost cultivator who just walked past… harbors affection for me.”

Jiang Qunyu instinctively furrowed his brows, following the direction of Wei Xun’s finger. His cheeks tightened; without even realizing it himself, a wave of sour jealousy had already colored his demeanor.

But when he looked closer, there was nothing in that direction except for a gnarled, crooked old tree—completely empty, without even a shadow of a ghost.

“…” Jiang Qunyu truly couldn’t hold it in. “Wei Xun, you seriously need to get your brain checked.”

Yet Wei Xun looked as though he had obtained exactly the satisfying answer he wanted. He exposed him without a shred of courtesy: “Jiang Qunyu, you were jealous just now.”

The veins on Jiang Qunyu’s temples throbbed violently. He began to harbor deep doubts regarding their current relationship, asking expressionlessly, “Are the two of us genuinely dating?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Wei Xun adopted a look of complete bewilderment.

Jiang Qunyu twisted his lips. “Because for some unknown reason, I have an overwhelming urge to have a physical fight with you right now.”

He had never been in a relationship before, so he truly couldn’t comprehend—is it actually normal for dating to look like this?

Looking down at his puffed-up, angry face, Wei Xun didn’t understand his fury at all. He spoke with blunt, naked honesty: “But right now, I have an overwhelming urge to kiss you.”

“As expected, your gentlemanly facade never lasts for long.” Hearing this, Jiang Qunyu laughed out of sheer exasperation. Deliberately mimicking Wei Xun’s restrained, pure-hearted tone from the previous night, he fired back word for word, “‘Just like this, this is already enough.’ When you said that last night, weren’t you acting quite pure-hearted?”

This time, Wei Xun didn’t deny it. “Last night was last night.”

Jiang Qunyu was utterly astounded by the sheer scale of this man’s audacity. Gritting his teeth, he demanded, “Wei Xun, are you absolutely certain you didn’t do anything last night?”

The moment the question landed, the aura around Wei Xun froze for a barely perceptible second. A flash of panicked exposure flitted through his eyes, but it vanished in an instant, replaced once more by his usual casual, nonchalant front. He spoke lightheartedly, “I merely bit you a few times.”

Jiang Qunyu fell silent for a beat, completely pushed past his limit. “Fuck! You call that a few times?!”

Heaven knew how shocked and dumbfounded he had been when he woke up that morning, walked into the inner chamber to bathe, and unfastened his inner robes—only to see his shoulders, neck, and waist covered in a dense network of dark and shallow, highly ambiguous bite marks.

He had initially suppressed his anger, wanting to see exactly when Wei Xun would actively confess. In the end, this miserable man truly knew how to play pretend; as long as Jiang Qunyu didn’t expose it, the man would never utter a single syllable about it.

Seeing him all riled up like a feral cat, Wei Xun let out a low laugh. He leaned down slightly, leaning right against Jiang Qunyu’s ear to offer a suggestion, “Are you very angry? If it doesn’t appease your wrath, you can bite me back tonight.”

The warm breath fanned across his earlobe, bringing a subtle, tickling itch. Jiang Qunyu tilted his head, meeting Wei Xun’s smiling eyes, before turning his head back expressionlessly. “What kind of bizarre fetish do you even have?”

It wasn’t as if he wouldn’t let him kiss him last night, so what was he putting on an act for? He just had to wait until he fell asleep to kiss him.

Wei Xun understood his underlying meaning. Lowering his long lashes slightly, he released his grip to check Jiang Qunyu’s pulse. “Your primordial soul is still unstable. It will be fine once you reach the Mahayana Realm.”

Jiang Qunyu was well aware that his soul wasn’t entirely stable yet, but what on earth did that have to do with Wei Xun kissing him?

Sensing his confusion, Wei Xun explained, “If you were awake, I would only want more. Jiang Qunyu,” He paused before continuing, “if you are in such a hurry, we can engage in soul-blending first.”

Jiang Qunyu was absolutely driven to fury; he wanted nothing more than to strangle Wei Xun. “Soul-blend your ass!”

Yet Wei Xun’s expression remained perfectly calm, as if he hadn’t just uttered something entirely scandalous, but was simply stating a mundane, everyday fact. He casually tossed out a line that left Jiang Qunyu’s mind completely blank: “It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

That single sentence instantly unlocked Jiang Qunyu’s sealed memories, and past scenes flooded his mind uncontrollably.

He even remembered that it was by the banks of the River of Forgetfulness. The ghostly winds had been swirling with skies full of Equinox flowers, and the Crimson Scythe had forcibly plunged into his consciousness. Filled with panic and helplessness at the time, completely unaware that it was simply the Crimson Scythe recognizing its master, he could only tightly clutch the hem of Wei Xun’s robes, his voice trembling.

With a tightly set face, Wei Xun had told him to open his consciousness.

The original intention of the two had been incredibly pure, devoid of a single stray thought from start to finish. They had merely wanted to investigate the invading entity within Jiang Qunyu’s consciousness to protect his soul.

But neither of them had anticipated that it was another form of dual cultivation.

Wei Xun had realized it belatedly, while Jiang Qunyu had accidentally stumbled upon a romance novel from the cultivation world during a certain year of the Xiping era. The novel had explicitly detailed that a cultivator’s consciousness is their foundational root—the most private, inviolable existence.

The higher a cultivator’s cultivation, the more impregnable their consciousness; outsiders had absolutely no way of forcing entry. Even when it came to cultivation partners, unless absolute trust was given, it was completely impossible for their consciousnesses to blend. Some would even choose to destroy their own consciousness rather than let another soul step half a foot inside. Once a consciousness was breached, one’s life and death were entirely held in the hands of another—at best, the soul would be severely damaged; at worst, it was a fate worse than death.

Even among deeply loving cultivation partners, very few in the world ever dared to attempt soul-blending. However, once achieved, not only could they share their cultivation and progress rapidly, but it was also the ultimate union at the soul level—an incomparably deep, exquisite tenderness that far surpassed physical dual cultivation.

After Jiang Qunyu finished reading it, he felt as though he had been struck by a bolt from the blue. He deliberately laid the book open on the table, pretending nothing was amiss as he paced back and forth outside the window, while secretly stealing glances at Wei Xun inside the hall to see if the man knew that their situation back then actually counted as dual cultivation.

As he peeked in from time to time, Wei Xun finally did as he hoped and flipped through the novel.

Consequently, as Wei Xun read on, he suddenly stopped flipping the pages. He seemed to recall something as well, staring blankly at the novel with lowered eyes.

Jiang Qunyu felt an inexplicable wave of mortification in his heart, yet he forced himself to maintain a calm facade, racking his brains for an excuse to rush inside, snatch the book back, and pretend absolutely nothing had happened.

But before he could formulate an excuse, Wei Xun suddenly lifted his eyes, his pitch-black gaze locking straight onto him.

Jiang Qunyu’s heart thumped wildly. Things had already reached this point; there was no escaping it.

He simply threw caution to the wind, braced himself, and strode into the hall. Reaching out, he snatched the novel out of Wei Xun’s hands, gripping it behind his back. With flushing ears but a forced display of composure, he stiffened his neck and spoke up, “That time was just an accident!”

“Oh,” Wei Xun asked him, “do you want to try it?”

Jiang Qunyu failed to react, instinctively asking, “Try what?”

“Soul-blending.” Wei Xun’s expression didn’t change a fraction.

Jiang Qunyu: “…Don’t you find it unlucky?”

Wei Xun stared at his fully flushed ear tips. “Do you?”

Without a second thought, Jiang Qunyu nodded, deliberately turning his face away, not daring to look into his eyes for fear that the panic in his heart would be exposed. “Yes!”

Wei Xun laughed. “Then your definition of unlucky is quite unique.”

When they went to sleep that night, Wei Xun lightly pressed his forehead against Jiang Qunyu’s, and the latter didn’t refuse, allowing Wei Xun’s consciousness to enter.

So, by all accounts, they had indeed inexplicably soul-blended a few times. But Jiang Qunyu refused to admit it right now, simply because he was still thoroughly annoyed by Wei Xun. “Anyway, we didn’t.”

Wei Xun let out a cold laugh. “Your lips are truly stubborn.”

Without thinking, Jiang Qunyu fired back, “Whether my lips are stubborn or not, don’t you already know?”

The moment the words left his mouth, Jiang Qunyu’s face instantly fell, and he fiercely cursed himself in his mind.

Fuck! Why on earth can’t I break this terrible habit of instinctively talking back to Wei Xun?! Can I please stop blindly running my mouth?!

Hearing this, Wei Xun let out an inscrutable laugh. “I do know. Last night…”

Before he could finish his sentence, Jiang Qunyu released their joined hands, lifting his palm to cover Wei Xun’s mouth. “Shut up.”

Wei Xun paused for a split second, then opened his mouth and gave his palm a light bite.

Jiang Qunyu was instantly dumbfounded. Fortunately, the force wasn’t heavy—it felt more like a light peck—but this still didn’t stop him from thinking this man was completely out of his mind.

He thought it in his mind, and he voiced it out with blunt directness: “…Wei Xun, have you lost your mind?”

Wei Xun produced a clean square cloth from out of nowhere, unhurriedly grabbing Jiang Qunyu’s hand to wipe it down before speaking with a hint of satisfaction, “I was the one who bit you.”

He remembered the version of himself within the illusion—that idiot had wanted to bite Jiang Qunyu back then, but ultimately failed to pull it off.

Even though he shared those memories, deep down, he didn’t view that idiot as himself at all. Furthermore, that idiot had said so many bad things about him right in front of Jiang Qunyu.

Heh, fortunately, only I am left now anyway. Besides, Jiang Qunyu has already forgotten everything that happened inside the illusion; he only remembers the memories shared between the two of us now.

Thus, when Jiang Qunyu spoke the previous night, Wei Xun had even felt a secret, hidden sense of delight. He had been worried that Jiang Qunyu preferred the seventeen-year-old version of Wei Xun, so it was for the best that he forgot.

Jiang Qunyu felt Wei Xun was completely inexplicable. What on earth was there to be happy about?

He gritted his teeth. “I’m not blind.”

Fortunately, before Jiang Qunyu truly lost his mind and strangled Wei Xun, the two of them finally located Xie Chuan perched up in a tree.

Seeing the two of them arrive, Xie Chuan leaped down from the branch. “Master.”

Wei Xun asked him, “Where is Wen Xingyao?”

“In the West Palace.” Bearing a long sword across his back, Xie Chuan immediately shifted his posture to walk ahead, leading the way for the two of them.

After walking out front for a bit, he truly couldn’t contain himself and drifted back, ambling along behind them.

“So, are you Master’s cultivation partner?” Xie Chuan’s curious gaze landed on Jiang Qunyu, finally voicing the long-standing doubt in his heart. “Did we know each other before?”

Otherwise, why did he always feel that the aura radiating from Jiang Qunyu was exceptionally familiar—like an indelible sense of closeness carved right into his bones that he couldn’t shake off?

Hearing this, Jiang Qunyu curved his peach-blossom eyes, his lips arching into a playful, teasing smile as he deliberately turned around to mess with him. “Actually, I am your master.”

Xie Chuan froze for a moment, blinking. He didn’t rush to speak, merely sizing him up with an incredibly earnest, serious expression.

Jiang Qunyu didn’t care whether he believed it or not, turning back around to continue walking forward. Barely a moment later, a shrill, miserable howl echoed from the distance. The voice was raspy, laced with a good amount of exasperated fury: “You dead ice-cube face! Let this young master out! Do you believe for a second that I won’t have Jiang Qunyu beat you up?!”