◎ Ji Qinghong x Yun Sulü ◎
The master of Chain Peaks had been something of a mentor to Ji Qinghong. Now that the master had passed away, it was only proper for him to escort the departed on their final journey.
As for sentiment...
Ji Qinghong’s gaze flickered imperceptibly toward Yun Sulü.
That was his private matter.
What followed—whether it was seeing the master of Chain Peaks laid to rest or Yun Sulü inheriting all the treasures left behind—proceeded without a hitch.
According to the rules of the Guiyuan Sect, with no Golden Core cultivator currently presiding over Chain Peaks, if no one in the peak reached that level within twenty years, Yun Sulü would have to return the peak to the sect.
Seeing that Yun Sulü was still young, a few of the late master’s old acquaintances offered to vouch for her, extending the deadline to fifty years out of goodwill.
The proposal was considerate in every way, brimming with the kindness and warmth of elders.
Yet Yun Sulü declined.
The favors left by her master were finite—each one had to be spent where it mattered most. And at this moment, Yun Sulü had another request in mind.
—Before making her new demand, she had asked Ji Qinghong a question.
“Once my master’s affairs are settled, will you leave?” she said. “Qinghong, can’t you stay in the Guiyuan Sect?”
Ji Qinghong regarded her quietly.
“I cannot stay in the Guiyuan Sect.”
Though both answers contained the word “cannot,” their meanings were entirely different.
Yun Sulü’s “can’t” was a question of willingness.
Ji Qinghong’s “cannot” meant “It’s not that I don’t want to—it’s that I simply can’t.”
Yun Sulü frowned with worry. “Then where will you go?”
Back to the humble gate of the Golden-Silver Flower Alley, enduring the scornful glances and gossip of neighbors?
The children in the slums had shunned Ji Qinghong for his demon heritage, and ordinary folk on the streets were no different. Even the master of Chain Peaks had hesitated over his background—let alone smaller sects, which would hardly rise above worldly prejudices.
Compared to Yun Sulü’s tangled concerns, Ji Qinghong merely smiled.
“The world is vast. I’ll go wherever I can.”
“...”
After a moment of thought, Yun Sulü’s expression firmed with resolve.
The next day, she firmly rejected the fifty-year extension and instead made another request.
—She would take Ji Qinghong as her disciple.
The steward in charge looked uneasy. “But... this...”
Yun Sulü stood with her hands behind her back, her usual gentle demeanor now sharp and unyielding, like a quiet stream frozen overnight into unbreakable ice.
“As the acting master of Chain Peaks,” she said coolly, “I should have the right to choose my own disciples, as all previous masters have.”
The steward glanced subtly at Ji Qinghong.
“Procedurally, there’s no issue. But accepting a disciple is like placing a chess piece—once set, it cannot be taken back. You should think carefully—”
“Teaching knows no bounds,” Yun Sulü replied, her words crisp as pearls striking jade. “I’ve already made up my mind.”
“Very well,” the steward conceded reluctantly. “But the age...”
The two were nearly the same age—Ji Qinghong was even slightly older.
While age wasn’t a strict barrier in master-disciple relationships, few would willingly invert the norm.
“Age is irrelevant,” Yun Sulü said, soft yet unyielding. “What matters is whether one is too rigid to accept new knowledge or changing circumstances.”
“...” The steward had no rebuttal.
And so, on that day, Ji Qinghong officially became a disciple of Yun Sulü of Chain Peaks in the Guiyuan Sect.
There was no grand ceremony, no invitations sent far and wide.
Only the mountains, clouds, and pines of Chain Peaks as witnesses.
Yun Sulü moved swiftly, cutting through all formalities.
Anticipating the uproar this unconventional decision would stir, once Ji Qinghong’s name was entered into the disciple registry, she made her second decree as acting peak master: Chain Peaks would seclude itself for ten years.
This was both a declaration of her resolve and a retreat from the storm of gossip.
As Yun Sulü activated the seclusion barrier, Ji Qinghong neither stopped her nor commented—only raised a brow and smiled at her.
Under his knowing gaze, Yun Sulü felt a flicker of self-consciousness. “What?”
“At first, you startled me,” Ji Qinghong admitted.
His gentle, kind-hearted childhood friend had revealed an unexpectedly resolute core—all to keep him by her side.
Like a maiden who once spent her days painting and composing poetry, now willing to don golden armor, wield a blade, and mount a warhorse for his sake.
Yun Sulü pressed, “And now?”
“Now...”
Ji Qinghong’s lips quirked as he reached out.
Before Yun Sulü’s widened eyes, his slender fingers brushed lightly against her temple, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
His voice was a warm murmur by her ear: “Now, you’ve only startled me a little.”
—This bold move, followed immediately by seclusion, was so reminiscent of the girl who once squeezed her eyes shut and unleashed a torrent of words.
With deliberate amusement, Ji Qinghong drew out the last syllable: “Isn’t that right... Master?”
Yun Sulü: “!!!”
The title, laden with his teasing tone, sent heat creeping up her ears. Though it was merely an honorific, something about the way he said it made her turn away, flustered.
...
During their seclusion, Chain Peaks held only the two of them.
The hall where they studied formations and artifact-forging was named Sulu Hall, its plaque inscribed by Ji Qinghong himself. In turn, he claimed a pavilion opposite and renamed it “Qinghong Pavilion.”
When night fell, the starry sky scattered diamond-like light over the peaks. From above, the twin lights of Sulu Hall and Qinghong Pavilion shone in harmony—the only beacons in the dark.
One morning, as Yun Sulü crossed the courtyard to enter Sulu Hall, she found Ji Qinghong dozing at the desk.
In the quiet of sleep, his lean frame resembled bamboo—temporarily bent but taut with latent energy, as if he might rise at any moment.
He had removed his white jade hair crown, letting ink-black strands cascade like silk down his back. Yet more striking than his hair were...
Two snow-white rabbit ears, now peeking through his dark locks, soft and relaxed.
How rare—he’d even let his ears show in sleep?
Last night’s research must have been grueling, to leave him so unguarded.
Watching the scene before her, Yun Sulü’s fingers, hidden in her sleeves, twitched involuntarily.
Upon closer inspection, beneath the snow-white fur of the rabbit ears, delicate veins intertwined to form a faint pink hue—clearly indicating an irresistibly soft texture.
"……"
She had to resist.
She absolutely had to maintain her composure.
She couldn’t abandon the dignity befitting a teacher!
Just then, a gentle breeze swept through the hall. Feeling a slight chill, Ji Qinghong’s long ears perked up playfully, making an adorable pat-pat sound.
"……"
No way—how could anyone resist this?!
Clutching her chest, Yun Sulü felt as if she had taken a critical hit of ten thousand points.
Faced with the greatest temptation since becoming the acting peak master, Yun Sulü cleared her throat and feigned calmness as she reached out toward those long, twitching ears.
It was fine—she’d just give them a little pinch. If Ji Qinghong noticed, she could say she was trying to wake him up.
But those perky ears seemed to possess some kind of magic. The moment they nestled into her palm, she couldn’t bring herself to let go.
Plump and velvety, the rabbit ears were warm to the touch—slightly hotter than human skin—like two tiny, bouncy bunnies playfully hopping in her hand.
No way, were they really this soft?
No wonder Ji Qinghong usually kept his rabbit ears hidden… Thank goodness he did. If not, such wonderfully squeezable ears would’ve been rubbed bald by now!
Ahem. She really couldn’t bring herself to stop.
Just one more touch… one last touch… one final touch…
One touch led to another, and "one last touch" turned into countless more. The consequence of her lingering indulgence was getting caught red-handed by Ji Qinghong.
Sensing something, Yun Sulü looked down to find Ji Qinghong’s eyes open, watching as his ears were kneaded mercilessly in her grasp.
Tilting his head slightly, he called out with an amused smirk, "Shizun."
Yun Sulü’s heart skipped a beat.
Ji Qinghong gave a light shake of his head, his soft hair brushing against her wrist.
The pair of fluffy white ears seemed about to perk up alertly—but in the next moment, as if with a will of their own, they nestled deeper into her palm.
His voice was lazy, carrying a hint of concealed laughter. "What are you doing, Shizun?"
"……"
Caught in the act, Yun Sulü was speechless.
Her gaze darted around, avoiding Ji Qinghong’s eyes. Clearing her throat, she scrambled for an excuse. "There was a willow catkin stuck in your hair. I was brushing it off." seaʀᴄh thё NovelZone.fun website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.
"...Ahem, no—I meant there was an ear stuck in your hair. I was removing it."
Ji Qinghong’s eyes widened slowly.
"Ah, Shizun is so cruel to me."
"That’s not what I meant! Don’t misunderstand—I meant the willow catkin! Yes, removing the willow catkin!"
Flustered, Yun Sulü’s cheeks flushed red. She waved her hands hastily, her gaze meeting Ji Qinghong’s midair.
The next second, she spun around as if fleeing from some monstrous rabbit specter, hastily tossing out, "I forgot something!" before dashing out of Sulu Hall.
Ji Qinghong rested his chin on his hand, watching her retreating figure with amusement. He made no move to retract his ears, letting them remain upright atop his head.
Pinching one ear, he leisurely stroked it from base to tip, murmuring as if to himself—or perhaps echoing a teasing remark from years past:
"Who’s the real rabbit here, with such a timid heart?"
—So what if she’d pinched his rabbit ears? If she’d just asked, he might’ve even transformed into his rabbit form and put on a show of nibbling grass with his three-lip mouth.
……
Although Yun Sulü had sealed Chain Peaks for a decade, the isolation didn’t last the full ten years.
Because the demon realm declared war on both the human and demon realms.
An endless tide of demonic creatures invaded both realms, pressuring humans and demons alike—but also fostering renewed cooperation between them.
By the time Yun Sulü and Ji Qinghong descended Chain Peaks together, the world had changed.
Even if a boar demon with gleaming tusks stood at a market stall, the vendor wouldn’t bat an eye, politely adding, "Here you go, honored guest."
Witnessing this, Yun Sulü couldn’t help but sigh.
"Qinghong, you were born a few years too late."
Had he been born in this era, the young, sensitive, and proud Ji Qinghong wouldn’t have had to grow up under the judgmental gazes of his neighbors.
Ji Qinghong shrugged. "Really? I think my timing was just right."
As they exchanged a smile, the unspoken reason for that perfect timing was clear.
There’s a saying that if you want to bond with someone, gossip about a third person together. While oversimplified, it holds some truth.
Under the looming threat of demons, hostility between races dwindled to near nothing.
Humans and demons exchanged talents, with each realm sending their promising youths to the other.
Yun Sulü mused, "In all the years before, our sect never had a precedent of demons teaching cultivation techniques. Now, it’s possible."
Chatting idly, the two worked side by side without pause.
They were crafting a portable miniature array, gold powder and carving tools in hand, weaving visible and hidden lines together.
Their four hands moved as if guided by a single mind—one’s fingers lifting just as the other’s dipped to fill the gaps. The process flowed like a perfectly choreographed dance.
Ji Qinghong grinned. "In that case, I’ll strive to set a few more precedents."
Yun Sulü teased, "Why stop at one? Break all the records."
"Oh?" Ji Qinghong tilted his head. "Do tell."
"Before this, there’s never been a demon teaching cultivation, never a peak with two schools, never both schools led by one person… So, why not—"
Though she said it half-jokingly, Ji Qinghong seemed genuinely pleased.
"Does Shizun see me as omnipotent?"
Sitting shoulder to shoulder, a mere turn of the head would bring their noses close enough to brush against the fine hairs on each other’s cheeks.
Under the table, Yun Sulü lightly kicked Ji Qinghong, grinning. "Not quite omnipotent—there’s one thing you can’t do."
"What’s that?"
"You can’t say your teacher’s ambitions are wrong."
Ji Qinghong threw his head back and laughed.
"Very well. Since Shizun places such high hopes on me, I’ll shoulder this responsibility with pride."
Ji Qinghong raised an eyebrow with a playful smirk. "It seems I should start searching for a suitable mystical flame from now on."
To truly excel in the art of weapon-forging, lacking an extraordinary flame would be like pairing a fine saddle with an ordinary horse—unworthy of greatness.
"Of course," Yun Sulü replied with unwavering confidence, her eyes sparkling as she nodded. "You will undoubtedly obtain the finest mystical flame there is."
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