Thank you Chiyome for your support!!! ????. ?.???? Here's a chapter in advance!

  Yuan Xia didn’t know how he escaped. He only remembered running at full-speed, keeping quick on his toes, listening for the unsheathing of a sword that never came.

  His robes slid from his shoulders. Light hit him hard, and he panted as he looked left, then right. The path split into two branches before him. In his panicked state, he dashed for the right, down a hazelnut branch that grew thinner with every step.

  He closed his eyes as he approached the edge, turning on his heel to make a sharp turn….

  But stepped on air instead.

  He’d overestimated the distance. As Yuan Xia fell, the wind coursing around him, he wondered how the outcome would have changed if he had his citrine earring.

  Yuan Xia’s attention shifted, his heart racing. When one was at the brink of death, they usually were supposed to feel a strong sense of horror or peace… but Yuan Xia only felt a strong wave of annoyance.

  Who designed this peak? Which architect took one look at this enormous tree, decided it would do, then established a branch of the most famous Orthodox Sect on it? What happened to the poor cultivators who couldn’t fly yet?

  Who caught them when they fell?

  As if answering his silent question, a familiar bell chimed.

  Brocade sleeves obscured Yuan Xia’s vision, enveloping him in silky warmth. His descent slowed, and he confusedly looked up.

  The bring Sun hid his saviour’s face, but Yuan Xia could tell. Only one man throughout the cultivation world could wear such expensive fabrics while free-falling through the sky.

  A tingling feeling spread from his heart, which thumped with surprising abandon.

  The man with the blue brocade robe hugged Yuan Xia to his chest. Yuan Xia thought he heard the man whisper:

  “You’re safe now.”

  A warm droplet nded on Yuan Xia’s cheek.

  Yuan Xia’s vision blurred, his pent-up adrenaline exploding in rapid heartbeats. He forced his eyes open, desperate to see if his guess was correct. Whether the person carrying him was an illusion, or whether he was real.

  And if that warm droplet tracing down his face… was a tear.

  But no matter how hard he tried, his senses drowned out in the end, and everything faded to bck.

  —

  “Yuan Xia!” A familiar nasal voice woke the sleeping Yuan Xia up.

  He saw a blurry circle in his peripheral vision and reached up to it, grabbing a handful of Shuang’s face.

  “Ow.”

  Yuan Xia jumped up, now alert. He took one look at Shuang and winced in regret.

  “It’s ok, I’m not hurt.” Shuang waved Yuan Xia’s unspoken apology away. “Rather, are you alright? I was so scared when I found you ying in bed like a corpse.”

  Had Yuan Xia imagined falling off of the branch?

  No, the sensation of brocade against his cheek felt all too real.

  With a suspicious gnce in Shuang’s direction, Yuan Xia heaved himself off of the deep-blue bed and looked around. A dorm-like setting surrounded him, with two desks underneath two rge windows and two sets of cotton beds on opposite sides. Just like Hua ChunMing, the room had an indigo hue, and when Yuan Xia gnced down at himself, he found himself in dark blue robes as well.

  The colour somewhat soothed his weary eyes.

  Shuang ambled over to sit at the edge of Yuan Xia’s bed. He ughed when Yuan Xia stood and spun in pce, staggering a bit at the end, appreciating the arc of his new robes.

  “Isn’t this pce beautiful? It’s the inner disciple dorm.” Shuang paused, expining. “You know, the special one directly under Hua ChunMing’s care.”

  Yuan Xia nodded hesitantly. He walked up to the window, where the sunlight cast its brilliant rays over a row of empty houses. If this was the inner disciple dorm, where did all of the other inner disciples go?

  “It’s been 120 years.” Sensing Yuan Xia’s confusion, Shuang continued. “All of the other inner disciples have already left for the greater world, and the outer disciples are situated on another branch completely.”

  Then why are you here? Yuan Xia stared hard at Shuang’s green figure.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Shuang returned Yuan Xia’s complex gaze. “I’m here because I’m the only cultivator other than you with a pure Heavenly root.”

  What?

  “It’s not like I hid it from you.” With a huff, Shuang sat at the edge of his bed.

  Yuan Xia leaned his upper body out the window, pondering. Did Hua ChunMing pick disciples based on their spiritual roots? From what Yuan Xia remembered, the Righteous Leader wasn’t the type to do that.

  Then what happened this time? Had Hua ChunMing become stingy? Or… was this his way of weeding through applicants to find a specific Demon Lord…?

  Yuan Xia shivered. The entire JiangHu knew he had a pure Heavenly root. Coupled with his natural talent and demonic cultivation, Yuan Xia quickly became a prominent Demon Lord in his st life.

  But wouldn’t Hua ChunMing’s crude process of choosing Demon Lord -lookalikes make Yuan Xia a major target? Did he want Yuan Xia to die again???

  A knock on the door brushed Yuan Xia out of his jumbled thoughts. He’d confront Hua ChunMing ter…. Or maybe not, as the psychological shadow from their previous encounter made Yuan Xia hesitant to even approach the Righteous Leader again.

  “I’m going to go check it out.” Shuang shook out his robe and shuffled to the door, opening it just enough to peek through.

  Upon recognizing the person outside, he froze.

  Shuang? Yuan Xia tip-toed over, tapping his dorm-mate on the shoulder.

  The boy’s head creaked as he faced Yuan Xia. He began to shake, and Yuan Xia grew nervous.

  In that second of silence, the door swung open.

  In stumbled a man with shaggy indigo hair, tied up by a blue bell hairstick into a messy chignon. The man had piercing indigo eyes, but the heavy eye bags and thick tears on his face obscured them. His wide brocade robes trailed in a crescent behind him, a reminder of the man’s former glory crumbled into ruins.

  Hua ChunMing tried to shut the door, but a portion of his dress got pinched by the frame. He tripped, falling to the floor. A jar of osmanthus wine rolled out of his sleeve, and the fragrance filled the air.

  Shuang sneezed.

  All of a sudden, Yuan Xia’s heart began pounding in his chest; just like when Hua ChunMing caught him from his fall.

  Before he could register his own actions, Yuan Xia knelt by Hua ChunMing’s side, untangling the drunk man’s robes from the door as he lifted one arm across his shoulder. Yuan Xia gnced at Shuang with pleading eyes, and, as if through telepathy, Shuang bent down to help.