After Refusing Marriage to the Dao of Slaughter Patriarch (8)

The Yushui Sect at night was extremely quiet, with only the rustling of swaying grass and trees, and the faint sound of young disciples swinging wooden swords millions of times.

Ji Zhaixing draped a black long robe over his shoulders. The satin surface was intricate, embroidered with a river of stars in thread. This made the stretch of his wrist and the section of his neck that he revealed appear even more snow-white and delicate.

His black hair was still slightly scattered over his shoulders, incredibly casual. Unlike his neat appearance during the day, one could tell at a glance that Ji Zhaixing had been forcefully pulled out while resting, exuding a sense of indolence.

The path out of the sect was not easy to walk.

Those jagged and protruding strange rocks grew haphazardly, making Tan Lang feel irritated, and he had to look after Ji Zhaixing from time to time.

Who asked Ji Zhaixing to look like his cultivation had regressed and he could be pushed over with a single shove—Tan Lang was afraid he would fall off halfway and die.

In the night, Tan Lang frequently looked back, his eyes bright.

He couldn't help but ask, his tone cold, "Do you want me to hold your hand?"

In Ji Zhaixing's eyes, Tan Lang had never been considerate and kind. Thus, Ji Zhaixing pondered for a moment and asked back, "You don't know the way?"

Tan Lang: "..."

Along the way, Tan Lang didn't open his mouth again.

The two left the Yushui Sect in such a silent atmosphere.

Tan Lang led Ji Zhaixing with familiarity, found a hidden formation that looked like it was abandoned, and waved his hand to place two mid-grade spirit stones.

After standing firm, Ji Zhaixing's vision swayed slightly.

When he opened his eyes, it was no longer the remote wasteland, but a bustling street. Dark red lanterns hung by the roadside to guide the way, and a fragrant wind wafted from the end of the road, carrying a sweet scent.

"Follow me closely," Tan Lang said with deliberate coldness and a bit of malice. "There aren't just Dao cultivators in here."

Ji Zhaixing nodded slightly.

In fact, the journey only took a few steps in total. Tan Lang led Ji Zhaixing into a pavilion on one side. The fragrant breeze faded considerably, and immediately a beautiful maid with fair skin stepped forward, bowing to lead the way.

"The Zhenrens are all in the back courtyard."

The moon was full, and at a glance, one could clearly see the beauties dancing, their waists swaying softly. The entire pavilion had been booked out, with a banquet set up in the back courtyard. Those friends of Tan Lang were all waiting at their seats, anticipating the arrival of the two.

The playboys who mingled with Tan Lang were mostly daring and unrestrained second-generation cultivators.

Born into prestigious sect families, they were unrestrained in their actions. Knowing that the person they were going to toy with this time was Ji Zhaixing, who had fallen from the clouds, they only hesitated for a moment—wouldn't it be more interesting to tease such a genius, making him like a trapped beast in a cage?

But when they saw the black-haired cultivator walk in following Tan Lang, they were all slightly stunned.

Ji Zhaixing was simply like someone from a different world than them, completely out of place even appearing in such a place of sensual pleasures.

Having heard those matters of the Yushui Sect for so long, they all thought Ji Zhaixing was some sort of magpie occupying a dove's nest. Now seeing him, they found that he was actually born... this good-looking.

Snowy skin and black hair, beautiful features. Even those who hated him the most would find it hard to pick out any flaws.

Seeing the expressions of these people, some of their gazes almost unhidden in their infatuation, Tan Lang inexplicably felt a surge of anger in his heart.

He chose a seat expressionlessly and sat down, grabbing the wine on the table and drinking it down heavily. The rapid flow of the liquor instantly soaked his collar, displaying a dissolute demeanor.

"I brought someone," Tan Lang said. "What are we playing today?"

His hostility was almost overflowing.

Anyone with a discerning eye could tell he was in a bad mood, and thought to themselves that Tan Lang really seemed to be incompatible with such a beauty like fire and water. But whether harboring selfish motives, or still remembering their past debauchery together, they all laughingly answered according to their previously planned words: "Archery, of course."

Ji Zhaixing then sat to the side, listening to them explain the rules.

There were nine of them here, and each person would pick a jade slip from a drawing cylinder. The one with a vermilion base would shoot the arrows, while the one with a black base would be blindfolded and hold the archery target until the shooter had fired nine arrows.

They were all cultivators, so naturally they wouldn't use ordinary bows. Instead, they had to use spirit crossbows drawn by infusing true essence, and the arrowheads were cast from cold iron, making them quite dangerous.

Ji Zhaixing only listened quietly on the side, neither making a sound nor objecting, exceptionally obedient.

Those playboys thought in their hearts, it should be his first time playing like this, so he wasn't speaking much.

Having set the rules, the tender and beautiful maid waiting beside them went to fetch the drawing cylinder, letting each cultivator draw in turn.

When it was presented before Ji Zhaixing, he slightly lowered his eyes and didn't refuse, drawing a jade slip from within. The base of the slip had no color.

Seeing that he was good-looking, the maid intentionally tried to get close, leaning over like a docile cat.

Yet Ji Zhaixing was extremely unromantic, his movements slightly cautious, not touching the woman's fair, soft skin at all.

He even remembered to give thanks.

"Thank you."

Across a seat, Tan Lang lazily raised his eyes to look at him. Seeing Ji Zhaixing's actions, his mood somehow improved a bit.

He saw Ji Zhaixing looking down to examine the jade slip. His black hair cascaded down, and from the side, his dense black eyelashes looked like someone out of a painting.

Too easy to trick. Tan Lang thought.

It wasn't even interesting to bully him.

The ones who drew the "prize" happened to be the two people beside Tan Lang. They stepped out and stood a hundred meters apart to shoot. The blindfolded person held the target far away from his body, shouting, "With your terrible archery skills, don't shoot me."

"Nonsense."

That person channeled his spiritual energy, finding it somewhat strenuous to draw the bow fully. By the end, out of nine arrows, eight missed.

Naturally, he was laughed at and mocked. Perhaps it was a private rule of theirs, but he was also forced to hand over quite a few spirit stones.

The mocked shooter felt his face grow slightly hot. Unconsciously, his gaze drifted to Ji Zhaixing. Seeing that the person wasn't looking at him, he felt both relieved and disappointed, and said stubbornly, "If I had known, I should have shot you to death with one arrow!"

After playing two more rounds, Ji Zhaixing still hadn't drawn a colored slip. Just as the fourth round was about to begin, someone stopped it and said, "This isn't very interesting, why don't we add some stakes?"

"If you hit, the person holding the target drinks a cup of wine; if you miss, the shooter drinks," he said with a grin, and told the maid to bring wine over.

That wine was no ordinary wine, but a spiritual brew that had been fermented for a hundred years, named Seven Days Brew. It was extremely strong.

The others all agreed, so the fourth round of drawing lots began again.

The order of handing out the slips this time was slightly different. After a circle of people drew, they were all uncolored jade slips. In the end, only Ji Zhaixing and Tan Lang had yet to make a move.

This drawing cylinder had been tampered with long ago; Tan Lang knew this better than anyone.

And Ji Zhaixing was meant to be the "target," blindfolded, his spiritual senses sealed, only able to listen to the wind by his ear and feel the unknown terror—Tan Lang wouldn't use this opportunity to deliberately hurt him. Or rather, if he had that thought earlier, it had long been dispelled.

It wouldn't be easy to explain to his parents.

Tan Lang persuaded himself like this.

And the final stakes were the highlight. That Seven Days Brew was truly extremely strong and could make a Golden Core cultivator dead drunk. If Ji Zhaixing lost his composure after drinking, or even did something absurd, he would use a Recording Stone to record it, and that would be blackmail material.

Tan Lang also felt that he was despicable.

But for some reason, when he imagined Ji Zhaixing drunk, many strange thoughts popped into his head.

When Ji Zhaixing went to draw the jade slip, Tan Lang pretended to play with his jade pendant, casually glancing over there.

He saw Ji Zhaixing lower his head slightly, his lustrous index and middle fingers pinching the jade slip. The tail end of the jade slip was a section of dark red.

He tilted his head slightly, "So it's my turn to shoot."

"How is this possible?"

The others who were secretly paying attention almost subconsciously retorted aloud.

"Why is it not possible?" Ji Zhaixing still had that harmless and docile appearance. He smiled slightly, "I have always been lucky, what do you think, Daoist Tan Lang?"

"..."

"Indeed so." Tan Lang said.

No matter how slow he was, he could see that Ji Zhaixing had tampered with it in return. But it wasn't good to admit it at this time, as that would be a confession without being pressed.

Anyway, Ji Zhaixing probably wouldn't be able to hit many arrows either—people like Tan Lang who nearly hit the target every time were in the minority after all.

Tan Lang took the archery target and walked a hundred meters away. Fortunately, Ji Zhaixing had no intention of deliberately shaking his hand to plant an arrow in him.

Ji Zhaixing closed one eye, not looking like he was putting in much effort. His slender fingers hooked the bowstring. When drawing the bow, the bow body was slightly slanted. His back stretched out to form a rather beautiful curve, like a butterfly spreading its wings to fly, making everyone lock their gazes on him.

The arrow shot out swiftly.

Tan Lang only felt the target in his hands sink slightly, and an uproar of praise immediately erupted by his ears.

Bullseye, flawless.

Those playboys were genuinely full of admiration. One must know that it was difficult for them to even stabilize the bow with spiritual energy, let alone shoot such a precise and perfect arrow.

Tan Lang pressed his lips together tightly. He didn't even take off the blindfold as he had the maid bring over the Seven Days Brew, drinking it all in one gulp.

His alcohol tolerance was actually extremely good, but unexpectedly, the explosive power of the liquor dissipated so quickly.

By the sixth cup, Tan Lang's entire face, half-covered by the blindfold, was red. He only felt hot air coming out of his ears and throat, both painful and dizzying.

His consciousness began to blur somewhat.

Those friends of his were a bit scared. Originally, they planned to get Ji Zhaixing drunk with one cup, but now they were afraid Tan Lang would drink himself to death, and one after another came out to smooth things over: "This is about enough for here. No more drinking, let's watch Brother Ji shoot arrows—"

Tan Lang pushed them away. His tongue was somewhat sluggish, and he wasn't quite clear on what he was saying.

"Accept the loss when betting," Tan Lang said.

"Anyway, I can never win against you—" He raised his head. Although he was blindfolded, everyone knew he was looking at Ji Zhaixing. Then, mumbling, he swore.

At this time, Ji Zhaixing seemed to be a particularly calm person.

He said to Tan Lang, "You can barely stand."

Almost out of a conditioned reflex from opposing Ji Zhaixing for many years, Tan Lang immediately said, "No need for your fake kindness."

Ji Zhaixing just gave him a look, then shot three arrows in a row—only this time, none of the three arrows hit the mark.

"It's over," he said.

Ji Zhaixing then put down the crossbow and went to get the wine. Those playboys were slightly taken aback, and before they could stop him, they saw Ji Zhaixing pour three cups in a row. He drank extremely fast, a method of drinking that easily got one drunk.

After drinking it all, Ji Zhaixing closed his eyes and calmed down for a moment.

His mind was still clear, just that his cheeks had turned a little red—and then his snow-white skin was thoroughly dyed several times over, even the slightly exposed collarbone was filled with a light red. It made people unable to help but imagine if his limbs and bones were all stained with this bright color.

Ji Zhaixing furrowed his brows tightly and said slowly, "I am feeling somewhat unwell and uncomfortable, I will take my leave first."

None of the people there went to stop Ji Zhaixing. They were all inexplicably somewhat ashamed and mumbled their agreements.

Ji Zhaixing nodded slightly again. His mind sluggishly recalled the path back, but after only a few steps, he staggered and stopped—

His footing was unsteady, and naturally, a quick-eyed cultivator stepped forward to support him.

The cultivator originally thought Ji Zhaixing was drunk, and even felt his face flush and heart beat faster, too embarrassed to look at his face. But as he was very close, he smelled a faint scent of blood that had been masked by the heavy fragrance in the courtyard pavilion.

Due to the movement of shooting arrows just now, Ji Zhaixing's old injuries hadn't fully healed and were slightly torn open again. Drinking strong liquor further agitated the injury.

"You, you're injured?" The cultivator asked for help somewhat blankly and in a panic, "Ji Zhaixing is bleeding."

This voice was simply deafening, scaring Tan Lang into shock, and sobering up the majority of his drunkenness.