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Ch94 - Bloodstained




In his past life, Chongjue had a strange, perverse fondness for half-revealed figures on the bed. Su Hansheng had only removed his outer robe, leaving him in a thin garment, his disheveled black hair spreading across the floor.
The moment the words “cultivate together” left his lips, Chongjue’s pupils dilated, and he instinctively turned his head away from Su Hansheng’s kiss.
Su Hansheng tightened his grip on the bone chain, forcing Chongjue to turn around.
“Didn’t you say I can do whatever I want?”
Chongjue’s eyes were cold and devoid of desire, staring only at Su Hansheng’s amber eyes, which were filled with lust. He suddenly asked, “Why do you want to cultivate with me?”
Su Hansheng answered without hesitation, “Because you are mine.”
Just as Chongjue had done to him in his past life, imprisoning him in the forbidden palace for their nights of passion, Su Hansheng had been unable to resist and had submitted, taking it for granted that it was a rule sanctioned by the Heavenly Dao.
Now, possessing the Sumeru Mustard Seed and holding Chongjue’s bone chain at his throat, he could naturally use the same method from his past life to forcibly keep Chongjue.
Chongjue asked again, “Anything else?”
Su Hansheng’s slender fingers caressed Chongjue’s face, his gaze moving from his dark blue eyes down, tracing his jade-like face, his thin lips, and even the flawless neck pierced by the bone chain. His Adam’s apple bobbed, revealing a contradictory allure, both ascetic and seductive.
Su Hansheng tilted his head, staring intently at him.
The two were very close. Chongjue seemed to sense something, his hand hanging limply at his side.
Su Hansheng was frank and undisguised in his desire: “Because I want you.”
Chongjue: “…”
Su Hansheng’s long legs wrapped around Chongjue’s waist, like a snake coiled around him along with the bone chain, trying to drag the serene god into the sea of desire.
But from beginning to end, Chongjue remained unmoved.
“Dual cultivation among cultivators requires mutual affection, spiritual connection, and a communion of minds. Su Hansheng, do you think that’s what we are like?”
Su Hansheng’s two reasons were both about satisfying desires of the heart and body.
There was no “love.”
Su Hansheng’s lips were crimson, his eyes glazed: “What?”
Chongjue didn’t care about the bone chain binding his vital points. He pressed two fingers together on Su Hansheng’s brow, suddenly infusing him with a calming chant.
Boom.
Su Hansheng staggered, almost falling backward, when an arm wrapped around his back, gently embracing him.
—It was the way an elder embraces a junior, devoid of any romance.
Chongjue gently patted Su Hansheng’s back and whispered, “You don’t love me. You’re just young, mistaking reverence for an elder for youthful infatuation.”
Su Hansheng felt as if he’d been doused with cold water. All his desires and longings had been shattered by the chanting. He trembled slightly, curled up in Chongjue’s arms, and looked up in confusion.
“Why?”
Chongjue thought he didn’t understand and was about to explain.
Su Hansheng murmured, “…Why didn’t you listen to me?”
Chongjue was stunned.
After his desires subsided, Su Hansheng didn’t return to normal; instead, he became even more erratic than before.
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Chongjue noticed his odd behavior and knew he couldn’t provoke him any further, so he simply went along with him for now.
He frowned, grasping Su Hansheng’s bleeding hand, healing it with his spiritual power while gently coaxing, “Xiaoxiao, I won’t go back to Mount Sumeru for now—you’re tired, go rest, we can talk about it tomorrow.”
But Chongjue’s temporary compromise did nothing to appease Su Hansheng; instead, it planted a seed in his heart that “no matter what he does, Chongjue can leave him at any time.”
Su Hansheng, his face streaked with tears, looked at this person he clearly controlled, yet who seemed like a wisp of sand he couldn’t hold onto, and forcibly pulled his hand away from Chongjue’s.
“You…”
Chongjue, as if afraid of frightening him, said gently, “What?”
Su Hansheng murmured, “Even you aren’t mine.”
Nothing belonged to him; even this body was stolen.
Only the life of his past life, rotting in the mud, truly belonged to him.
Su Hansheng’s amber eyes, bright as lamplight, became unfocused, as if bewitched. He slowly reached for the bone chain around Chongjue’s neck.
Chongjue remained motionless, letting him do as he pleased.
Su Hansheng thought dazedly.
“What beautiful eyes.”
“If I completely control him, will he truly obey me?”
A shimmering light seemed to appear before his eyes. Su Hansheng felt as if he were drowning, his chaotic consciousness slowly sinking, gradually swallowed by the cold water.
Suddenly, a drop of blood seemed to fall from mid-air onto the surface of the water, creating a pale red mist in the clear, dark pool.
Su Hansheng seemed to break free of the water, finally regaining his breath, gasping for air, his vision blurring.
Until his gaze focused, what he saw was a large patch of scarlet blood.
Su Hansheng’s pupils trembled, staring blankly at what lay before him.
He seemed to lose his composure for only a moment, yet the vast Buddhist hall was as if a hurricane had swept through, the carved wooden windows and doors shattered into splinters, and the wind, carrying torrential rain, howled and swept in.
The bone chain spanning the Buddhist hall suddenly lashed out of control, dancing wildly through the air. Where Chongjue had stood before Su Hansheng, he now knelt unsteadily on the ground, a hand pressed to his chest. Blood, bright and startling, trickled from the corner of his mouth, dripping down his chin.
Su Hansheng stared blankly, his knees giving way as he slumped to the floor. The frenzied emotion that had consumed him shattered, vanishing instantly at the sight of that crimson stain.
“U-Uncle?”
Driven by the chain, Chongjue’s face was pale. Whether his spirit or meridians had been injured was unclear.
As Su Hansheng’s consciousness cleared, the wild bone chain finally calmed, dissolving silently back into the void.
Chongjue coughed up another mouthful of blood. Looking at the utterly devastated youth before him, he saw the shock and fear in Su Hansheng’s eyes. Helpless, Chongjue gently embraced him.
Su Hansheng, tear-streaked, trembling, finally snapped back to reality—dazed, he reached out tentatively, cradling Chongjue’s chin, staring at the blood. His eyes reddened, his entire body shaking.
“Uncle, Uncle… you’re bleeding!”
Chongjue held him gently, patting his back: “It’s nothing. You’ve only just formed your Golden Core and can’t fully control the Ninety-Nine Bone Chains. Don’t blame yourself.”
Su Hansheng didn’t even remember what had happened, but he knew this had nothing to do with the bone chains—it was his own twisted mind controlling them.
He had wanted so desperately to keep Chongjue, to make him obey as he himself had once obeyed.
Now, with his wits restored, even the simplest fool could see such a desire was twisted and perverse.
Su Hansheng pressed his forehead to Chongjue’s chest, tears slipping down his lashes, swallowing back sobs.
Chongjue didn’t blame him at all, his voice as gentle as ever.
“I was wrong too. I promised long ago to attend your coming-of-age ceremony, but broke my word. My earlier promise stands: I won’t return to Mount Sumeru just yet. Wait until you’ve reached adulthood, or until you’ve become strong enough to stand on your own.”
Su Hansheng was still young, attached and needy. It was best to wait until he’d grown and understood what it meant to part.
Twelve years, surely, would be enough.
Just as Chongjue was about to settle on this, the youth in his arms softly said, “No need.”
“Hm?”
Su Hansheng had fully regained his bearings. He took a deep breath, pulling away from Chongjue’s embrace, wiping away tears.
Still unable to meet his eyes, as if running away, he murmured, “I’m not a child. At Wendao Academy, I have my senior brothers and sisters, and my classmates. I won’t be alone. I’ll be fine.”
Unlike his earlier resistance, these words were spoken with complete sincerity.
Su Hansheng had long known he was unhinged—that if things he cared about didn’t go his way, he would inevitably spiral out of control.
But earlier, he had only wept and protested, nothing he truly took to heart. This time, in his chaos, he had hurt Chongjue.
Su Hansheng was so ashamed he wanted to vanish.
Chongjue frowned, “Xiaoxiao…”
Su Hansheng interrupted: “It’s late. I won’t bother you anymore. I’ll return to Falling Parasol Lodge.”
Chongjue was about to stop him, but Su Hansheng was already scrambling to leave—so desperate to escape he stumbled and nearly fell.
Chongjue quickly caught him. “Are you hurt?”
Su Hansheng murmured, “No, my legs… I can’t stand.”
He had been so terrified, he simply couldn’t muster the strength.
Chongjue sighed and lifted the slender youth into his arms, carrying him steadily toward the guest quarters behind the Buddhist hall.
Su Hansheng protested, “No, I want to go back to Falling Parasol Lodge.”
“It’s raining hard,” Chongjue ignored his protest, walking quickly despite his own injuries. “You’ve just formed your Golden Core. You need to rest—don’t go back and forth in this state.”
In moments, they reached the guest quarters.
Chongjue carefully set Su Hansheng onto the bed, then immediately averted his eyes—something in the posture recalling the memory the evil one had forced upon him.
Silence filled the space between them.
Summoning his courage, Su Hansheng ventured hesitantly, “Uncle… are your injuries serious?”
Chongjue smiled: “It’s nothing. I’ll recover with a night’s meditation.”
Su Hansheng only nodded, not speaking again.
Seeing his embarrassment and discomfort, Chongjue didn’t linger. “Rest. I’ll ask Vice Dean Zou to excuse you from class a few more days. Focus on recovering.”
Su Hansheng, biting his lip, just nodded once more.
Chongjue tucked him in, offered a few more gentle words, and then departed.
But the moment Chongjue returned to the Buddhist hall, his divine sense picked up on Su Hansheng bolting up from bed, opening the guest quarters’ window, and dashing outside like a thief fleeing the scene.
Chongjue instinctively wanted to chase him, but hesitated.
Why chase him? If he brought him back, Su Hansheng would remain anxious and guilty all night, unable to sleep.
Perhaps it was better for him to return to Falling Parasol Lodge.
Barefoot and in thin clothing, Su Hansheng vaulted from the window, plunging into the violent downpour. In moments, he was soaked to the bone.
He didn’t care. He stumbled along the mountain path, running desperately toward Falling Parasol Lodge.
Rain streaked his face, rolling down his chin.
But after only a few steps, a deafening crash came from the sky—the storm clouds shattered, the rain stopped abruptly. Within moments, the moon emerged from behind the clouds, its light illuminating the dark trail.
Su Hansheng looked up. The moonlight was so bright it stung his eyes, forcing tears to fall.
A bright moon, a cool breeze—all was peaceful.
After a long while, Su Hansheng exhaled deeply, then staggered steadily down the mountain steps.
Falling Parasol Lodge was already silent, everyone asleep.
When Su Hansheng returned to his quarters, the brief respite from the storm had been replaced by a renewed raging torrent of wind and rain, accompanied by lightning and thunder.
Su Hansheng, dazed and disoriented, was bathed and dressed by his companion tree. Just as he was about to lift the bed curtains and get into bed, the candlelight beside him flickered slightly as if carried by a gust of wind.
Before Su Hansheng could react, he felt someone suddenly press against his back, forcefully covering his mouth from behind and holding him tightly in an embrace.
“Mmm…”
Su Hansheng was startled. He was about to summon his companion tree when he caught a familiar scent.
The scent of Bodhi flowers.
Su Hansheng’s tense body instantly relaxed.
“Xiaoxiao, don’t make a sound.” Chongjue’s voice came from behind, but his tone was more nonchalant than ever before, lazily chuckling, “While he’s in a meditative state for a moment, I’ll ‘steal’ some time with you.”
Su Hansheng: “…”
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