The Beautiful Pariah Thought He Could Be Loved - Chapter 12

Chapter 12: He Lüqing Stared Blankly Downward…

Lüqing returned to the room to find Xin Qishu fiddling with the tassels of the bedspread.

“Did you convince him to leave?” Hearing the sound, Xin Qishu turned around.

Though he felt that way in his heart, he couldn’t bring himself to tell Fei Jia to his face that they would never meet again. He had asked He Lüqing to deliver the message for him.

He Lüqing walked to the table. “Mhm.” He lifted the teapot, poured a cup of tea, and downed it.

His hair was blown back by the wind, revealing a smooth forehead. His pale green eyes held little emotion, and combined with the light pink scar on his right cheek, there was an eerie quality to his presence.

Xin Qishu breathed a sigh of relief and asked curiously, “How do we obtain the spiritual energy of a tree from the Underworld?”

“To be precise, we only need the energy of a single leaf.”

“We need to find a ghost who had deep emotional entanglements in life, refuses to reincarnate, and wanders the mortal realm. Such ghosts possess a tree unique to them. It grows between the realms of the living and the dead, but it only appears when the ghost decides to reincarnate.”

“We must find the reason why this ghost refuses to let go.”

Suddenly, He Lüqing’s expression turned solemn. He pulled Xin Qishu up. “We need to leave, now.”

A knock sounded at the door.

“Elder He, I am Lu Bai, a disciple under Elder Li. I request an audience.” A humble voice sounded from outside.

He Lüqing pushed open the window, his eyes darkening. Xin Qishu leaned in to look.

Without them noticing, the inn had been surrounded by cultivators. They wore the disciple uniforms of the Fayu Pavilion, armed with spears and swords.

Since they were on the second floor, Xin Qishu could see his own reflection in the long swords pointing upward.

The door was pushed open. A group of six entered, led by a righteous-looking young man. “We ask that you two return with us to discuss the matter of the Glazed Lamp further.”

“There is no need for that. I made everything clear that day,” Xin Qishu said.

The young man nodded understandingly, his gaze shifting to the person beside him, lingering for a subtle moment.

Xin Qishu tensed instantly, drawing his long blade and looking at him with dark eyes.

The young man wasn’t nervous at all. He smiled slightly and sighed, “Truly beautiful, as they say.”

“So you are Xin Qishu? I heard…” The young man stared at him, tilting his head with ill intent.

Lüqing’s face was grim. He drew his sword and unleashed a wave of spiritual energy. Amidst Lu Bai’s grunt of pain, He Lüqing grabbed Xin Qishu and leaped out the window.

The sensation of weightlessness took over. Below, the faces of dozens of disciples rushed up at them. Lüqing threw out several spells; the moment they landed, the crowd fell as if struck by lightning.

Xin Qishu was pulled onto a flying sword. In a moment of instinct, he looked back.

The young man was standing at their previous window, smiling and waving.

The sixty fallen disciples stood back up simultaneously. Their expressions hadn’t changed at all. Their strategic positioning caused He Lüqing’s face to sink.

Several sharp bursts of spiritual energy flew toward them, forcing them back to the ground. Xin Qishu stood a few paces away from He Lüqing.

“Puppet techniques and formations,” Xin Qishu noted, recognizing the trick.

A violent wind rose, and the sky turned pitch-black. The young man’s face was obscured by shadows, his voice echoing like a phantom: “You are simply too soft-hearted.”

“Elder He is one thing, but why is it that even the little demon refuses to hurt people?”

The lively people suddenly seemed to have their souls sucked out. Orbs of white light escaped their chests, and their bodies turned into wood.

The orbs floated above their heads, connecting with long threads of silk to form a web. Sensing something, Xin Qishu looked up, his blood-red eyes widening as they reflected the approaching white light.

CLATTER.

Xin Qishu’s blade slipped from his palm.

He felt a violent shove against his back!

Xin Qishu tumbled onto the dirt, the small stones digging into his palms. He let out a muffled groan as something whistled past. A roar sounded in Xin Qishu’s head; he kept his head down, his hands clawing at the earth and trembling uncontrollably.

After a moment, clinging to a sliver of hope, he turned his head with a shaking body.

The man’s face was pale, his features sharp as if carved by a knife, his brow deep and his nose straight. The cloud patterns on his collar shimmered.

In the vast grey sky, a swarm of insects flew in a frantic, buzzing mass. A group of them landed on his face. Lüqing’s face twitched slightly; he tried to raise his hand to brush them away, but failed. He stared blankly downward. Where his right arm should have been, there was only empty space. The torn fabric at the edge of his shoulder fluttered in the wind.

A stabbing pain hit Xin Qishu’s temples, and his vision went black as he fainted.

Before his eyes closed, he saw a flesh-colored arm and a trail of blood on the ground.

…

The thick scent of herbs mixed with the metallic tang of blood forced its way into his nose. Overwhelmed by the smell, Xin Qishu coughed and slowly woke up.

The curtains were all drawn, leaving the unfamiliar room in dim light. Occasionally, the sound of raindrops sliding off the eaves broke the silence. He sat up, his face pale.

“Ugh…”

“Is your head still spinning?”

Xin Qishu looked toward the source of the voice, startled—he hadn’t realized anyone else was in the room. Lüqing was sitting with his back to him in the gap between the bookshelf and the corner. The hilt of a sword peeked over his shoulder.

He turned around.

A sliver of light that escaped the curtain hit his cheekbone. In that weak glow, Xin Qishu saw the lifelessness in those narrow eyes.

The memories of what happened rushed back like a tide. Xin Qishu’s voice shook with grief: “Lüqing, you… your arm…”

Lüqing paused. “There was something strange about that formation. The right arm won’t regrow for now.”

His voice was slightly raspy. “But don’t worry. While you were unconscious, I practiced swinging the sword with my left hand. I can still protect you.”

Xin Qishu opened his mouth but found no strength. He wanted to say I’ll protect you, but he could barely protect himself. If He Lüqing hadn’t pushed him away at the last second, that white light would have taken his head instead.

His dark lashes flickered, and two lines of tears flowed from his dull eyes. He wiped them away. “Mhm. I believe you.”

His voice was thick with sobs. “Come here. I want to hold you.”

Lüqing stood up and placed the sword on the table. With his remaining left hand, he gently pulled back the bed curtains and sat on the edge of the bed with hollow eyes.

Xin Qishu noticed he was still wearing the same clothes from that day. His vision blurred, and he tried to blink back the tears.

“What’s wrong?” Seeing no movement after calling him over, He Lüqing followed the boy’s gaze to his clothes. He realized and explained, “No other clothes fit, so I didn’t change.”

“Do you find me repulsive? I can change,” He Lüqing said flatly. The pink scar on his right face remained. He looked like he had lost his soul, completely stripped of his former spirit.

“Of course not,” Xin Qishu hugged him. “How could I ever find you repulsive?”

Thinking of the powerful arm that had held him not long ago, now replaced by a flat wound, Xin Qishu felt a sharp pang of agony in his heart. He buried his face in He Lüqing’s shoulder, his tears soaking the fabric.

“If I had known, I would have… picked it up. Maybe a medical cultivator could have sewn it back on.”

Lüqing hugged him back in silence.

After a while, he said, “Even if sewn back, it would be a dead thing.”

“The world is so big; maybe there’s a way to bring it back to life.”

Lüqing sighed. “Don’t think about it.”

Xin Qishu cried even harder.

“I need to go out a bit later. What do you want to eat? I’ll bring something back,” He Lüqing said suddenly.

“I’m not hungry. Is there something you need to do out there?” Xin Qishu let go and looked up at him with pity.

Pity? Lüqing’s expression stiffened. He looked down and tucked in the corners of the blanket. “I’ve gathered some information while you were unconscious.”

“In Xiaochi Town, there is a family whose sons all committed suicide by hanging in a single night. The master believes it’s a ghost seeking a life and is looking for cultivators to help, fearing retaliation.”

“I’ll go undercover to find clues.”

Xin Qishu hesitated. “Now?”

“Is there a problem?” Lüqing stood up and grabbed his sword. The white light of the blade turned his face snowy white.

He had looked at He Lüqing from this angle before, but the feeling was completely different. Xin Qishu instinctively felt protective. “Why don’t you rest first? There are plenty of ghosts that meet the criteria. Let’s wait until your arm grows back.”

He Lüqing whirled around, sword in hand, emotion finally flooding his eyes. He shouted angrily, “Why wait? Didn’t I tell you I can protect you?!”

“Do you not believe me?”

“Of course I believe you,” Xin Qishu tried to continue, “but your condition…”

Lüqing glared at him.

“The fact that you’re missing an arm is too obvious. Why don’t I go too!” Xin Qishu immediately changed his tune, getting out of bed to put on his shoes. “Both of us should participate in every step of the refinement, right?”

Xin Qishu gave him a sweet smile.

Lüqing’s anger subsided for a moment, returning to that calm state that made Xin Qishu’s heart skip a beat with worry.

He Lüqing slung the sword behind his back and walked over to take Xin Qishu’s hand.

Xin Qishu’s pace faltered. “Where is your scabbard?”

Lüqing had a wood spiritual root, and his spirit sword was self-refined, its power approaching that of an immortal tool.

“I put it in my storage space. A sword in a scabbard cannot be drawn with spiritual energy alone,” He Lüqing explained. “Now that I only have one hand, drawing it is inconvenient. I don’t want to risk any delays.”

“But leaving the blade exposed like that… won’t it hurt innocent people?”

Lüqing looked at him in silence. “Then what should I do?”

“Why don’t you wrap the blade in spiritual energy?” Xin Qishu suggested tentatively under his gaze.

After a long pause, He Lüqing gave a slight nod.

A layer of white light, thin as a cicada’s wing, appeared over the edge of the sword, dulling its sharpness. Lüqing asked, “Is this acceptable?”

Xin Qishu nodded.

He Lüqing then told Xin Qishu what happened after he fainted. He had severely wounded the young man and escaped here. Xiaochi Town was tiny, and the only inn had long since closed. When Xin Qishu developed a fever, He Lüqing met the owner of this house while trying to take him elsewhere. Seeing their plight, the owner let them stay in a side courtyard. Though no one had caught up yet, they had used a simple disguise just in case.

As they stepped out of the room, they met a middle-aged woman carrying laundry. She smiled and greeted Xin Qishu, “Little brother, you’re finally awake! Your elder brother took such meticulous care of you while you were out!”

“Five doses of medicine a day, never missed once.”

Elder brother? Xin Qishu was momentarily dazed. He looked blankly at He Lüqing. “Did Fei Jia follow us after all?”

Lüqing looked at him with a heavy gaze.

“So your name is Fei Jia? That’s a fine name.” The woman, having sharp ears, caught the name and turned to praise He Lüqing.

Realizing the mistake, Xin Qishu explained with a sheepish smile, “You’ve misunderstood. This is my… his name isn’t Fei Jia.” He gave He Lüqing’s hand a tug.

“Oh, oh…” The woman’s gaze bounced between the two. Realizing the implication, she felt awkward. She watched them walk away, murmuring, “How can two men…?”

As soon as they were out of sight, He Lüqing yanked his hand away. With a storm brewing in his eyes, he asked: “Why didn’t you tell her we are Daoist partners?”