CHAPTER 10: Mu LingFeng!?

"…Then he's not human," Mammy Lu muttered, her voice low and full of venom.

The two women stopped at the corner where the servant quarters split off. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and moldy herbs.

Mammy Fang glanced behind them nervously. "You think the poison from the secret garden will really work?"

"If it doesn't," Mammy Lu said coldly, "I'll make sure something else does."

—

Meanwhile, night had fallen.

Lui Ming waited until it was properly dark before making his move. But this time, instead of sneaking through the crumbling wall at the back of the estate like a fugitive, he walked right out through the front gate.

He knew Mammy Lu and Mammy Fang were watching. He made sure they saw.

He didn't look back.

The night breeze was sharp but clean, much different from the suffocating air of the Su family residence. As he walked down the dimly lit road, his steps steady, his eyes scanned ahead—not for trouble, but for a familiar silhouette.

The streets were quieter now, lined with shuttered shops and flickering lanterns. Most vendors were packing up, carts wheeling off into alleys.

Lui Ming turned a corner and entered the narrow stretch of road where he and Ping An had first crossed paths.

But before he could step fully into the alley, his shoulder bumped into someone coming the other way.

"Ah—sorry," Lui Ming said reflexively, stepping back.

He looked up—

And paused.

The man before him was tall—half a head taller than him. His black robes shifted softly with the wind, sleek and unwrinkled. Long black hair fell over broad shoulders, gathered loosely at the nape. His face… was breathtaking. Sharp nose, high cheekbones, pale skin.

But cold. Unreadable. Like a statue carved from midnight jade.

His eyes—also black—locked onto Lui Ming's.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The street around them seemed to vanish, people passing by like shadows, their sounds muffled.

Then the man's lips curled upward, just a little. A faint smirk.

White teeth.

His smile was slow, not warm—but striking. Arresting.

Lui Ming felt his heart skip.

Huh?

He instinctively brought a hand to his chest.

My heart… is beating fast? Why?

He stared up, caught in that gaze, lost in it.

"…Are you familiar with this place?" Lui Ming asked suddenly, the words tumbling out as if trying to distract himself.

The man gave a low hum in response—deep and unhurried. His smirk deepened slightly, but he didn't speak.

And that somehow made it worse.

Lui Ming took a careful step back, flustered by the silence and the strange heat building in his chest. He'd never reacted like this before. Not to anyone. Not even his past self, who had practiced wearing fake smiles and mimicking normal emotions like clothes—he had never felt this weird flutter.

Not once.

"…Can't speak?," Lui Ming muttered under his breath.

But the stranger tilted his head slightly and said, in a voice smooth like still water, "No. Just quiet."

Lui Ming blinked.

The man leaned in, eyes narrowing. "You're lost?."

"…What makes you say that?" Lui Ming asked cautiously.

"You stopped me so i assume you're lost," the man replied.

Lui Ming's eyes widened slightly. He hadn't expected that. He felt like he might as well put a hat on his head that says dounce.

The man's smile faded into something unreadable again. "Sorry i'm not from around here, so i won't any help."

Then, just as suddenly, he turned and walked past.

Lui Ming turned to follow with his eyes, but the man had already melted into the night crowd.

"…Who the hell was that?"

He clutched his chest again.

His heart was still beating faster than normal.

He was confused.

Still gripping the fabric of his robe near his chest, Lui Ming sat down on a barrel at the edge of the street, the dull thud of his weight against the wood going unnoticed. His heart was still unsettled. That stranger's face—handsome beyond belief—still lingered in his mind like smoke he couldn't wave away. His chest rose and fell softly. Cheeks faintly flushed. He stared blankly ahead, as if the air itself had bewitched him.

So dazed he didn't notice when Ping An appeared.

"Brother Feiyu? What are you doing here?" Ping An's voice rang out with a tinge of curiosity.

Lui Ming hadn't fully come back to himself. Still stunned. He turned his head slightly, and before Ping An could react, Lui Ming reached out and cupped his face with both hands, drawing it close—much too close.

"Wha—?" Ping An froze, his entire body locking up.

Lui Ming leaned in, their foreheads nearly touching. He stared deep into Ping An's eyes, unblinking, examining, searching. But the strange flutter in his chest from earlier... wasn't there. No racing pulse. No heat under his skin. Nothing.

Meanwhile, Ping An's entire body was practically steaming. He was blushing like mad. His eyes flickered to Lui Ming's lips, trembling just slightly. Too close… way too close… And yet… he didn't pull away. In fact, he leaned a little forward, slowly, testing, as if asking without words.

Lui Ming didn't move.

Ping An took that as a yes.

His eyes fluttered closed and he tilted his head, inching closer for a kiss—

And then—

Lui Ming calmly pushed Ping An's face away by the forehead and sighed.

"...Ah."

Sighed.

Ping An blinked. His face drained of color.

"…Eh?"

Did… did he just get rejected?

No, no! That wasn't right! That couldn't be right!

Ping An stood still, fighting inner demons. His thoughts screamed:

"I was sure! He touched my face! He pulled me close! He stared so intently! So—so how—why—was that not a yes!?"

Lui Ming, on the other hand, didn't even glance his way. He turned his head back in the direction of where he had seen the mysterious stranger earlier, an unfamiliar twinge of… regret? Something he couldn't quite name, coiling quietly in his chest.

Ping An was still frozen, his mind caught in a storm of misunderstanding and shame. His ears were red. His heart wounded.

Lui Ming, finally aware of the silence beside him, glanced sideways.

"…What's with that face?" he asked flatly.

Ping An looked like a kicked puppy.

"N-nothing," Ping An muttered, turning his face away with stiff dignity, though he was clearly pouting.

Lui Ming stood up and dusted off his sleeves. "Don't make weird faces in public. It's embarrassing."

"I'm embarrassing!?" Ping An squeaked.

But Lui Ming was already walking ahead.

Still preoccupied with the encounter from earlier, he muttered more to himself than to Ping An, "Who was that man…?"

"W-what man!?" Ping An called, jogging to catch up.

Lui Ming didn't answer. He wasn't sure himself. But something told him that the man he bumped into wasn't ordinary—no...he felt like he had seen him before

Ping An trailed behind, throwing Lui Ming suspicious glances every few steps.

He kept poking his fingers together, cheeks still red.

He had definitely misunderstood.

Probably.

Maybe.

…Right?

Lui Ming shook off the lingering daze, trying to forget the stranger he'd bumped into. That moment—however strange—wasn't important. He had come out here for a reason.

He turned to Ping An, who was watching him closely.

"Do you know where Mu Lingfeng is?" Lui Ming asked quietly.

Ping An blinked, caught off guard. "Mu Lingfeng? Why are you asking about him?"

Lui Ming didn't answer. He simply stared, waiting.

Ping An sighed, lowering his voice. "Alright, fine. I wasn't going to say anything, but… I heard something from one of my sources in the Tianlan Sect."

That got Lui Ming's attention. "What did they say?"

"He's here," Ping An whispered. "Right in QingShui city."

Lui Ming's eyes narrowed slightly. "Here?"

"Yeah. After being banished to the Demonic Forest a month ago," Ping An explained, his voice barely above a whisper. "They thought he'd died in there. That was the punishment—banishment, no return. But somehow… he survived."

Lui Ming's heart skipped.

Ping An leaned in. "Not only did he make it out, but on his way back, he got ambushed by some righteous sect cultivators. Heavenly-ranked. They saw him and tried to kill him on sight."

"And?" Lui Ming asked, though he already suspected the answer.

"He beat them," Ping An said with a grin. "Crushed them, actually. But you know how this works—the moment news like that spreads, more people come sniffing around. Now the city's crawling with people trying to 'capture' him in the name of justice."

Lui Ming's fingers twitched slightly.

Ping An's voice lowered even further, glancing over his shoulder like he half-expected someone to be eavesdropping. But just as Lui Ming leaned in to ask another question, Ping An suddenly clapped his hands together and grinned.

"But hey! Speaking of troublemakers," he said brightly, "that rat poison you gave me? Heaven's Wrath Rat Powder? It's a hit!"

Lui Ming blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift. "…What?"

"I'm serious," Ping An said, puffing out his chest a little. "The mortal folks have been swarming for it. Apparently, it's been hard for them to deal with rats for years now. They're small, fast, and clever. Most traps don't work, and normal poisons take too long. But your powder? Pfft. One sprinkle, and they're dropping like flies."

He mimicked a dying rat with dramatic flair, then leaned closer again, a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes.

"Immortals though, not so much. Most of them just blast the rats with spirit force if they ever see one. They're not going to waste their cultivation on something so… trivial. Still, a few lazy ones have bought a jar or two. Especially those in seclusion or on strict energy diets."

Ping An wiggled his eyebrows proudly, clearly pleased with the praise he was giving himself. "Honestly, if we keep this up, we might need to start branding it. Get a logo. A rat skeleton doing a kung fu pose, maybe?"

Lui Ming pinched the bridge of his nose again.

Ping An paused mid-rant and tilted his head. His grin faded just a little as he leaned forward, squinting at Lui Ming's expression.

"…Hey," he said, more softly now. "Is that the only reason you came looking for me?"

Lui Ming stilled.

Ping An waited. His voice lacked its usual playful lilt now, and there was something searching in his gaze, like he wasn't sure whether he wanted the answer to be yes or no.

Lui Ming didn't answer at first. He just stared at Ping An with that same unreadable expression, calm and unshaken.

Under his gaze, Ping An's face slowly reddened.

"…Yes," Lui Ming said at last.

Ping An's heart felt like it had slammed into a wall full of thorns.

"You only came to ask me for information?" he asked, his voice small.

"Yes," Lui Ming answered flatly.

"I see—"

"But—"

Before Lui Ming could finish his sentence, a hand suddenly grabbed Ping An's shoulder from behind.

Ping An didn't flinch. He didn't even look back.

Instead, he stubbornly kept his eyes on Lui Ming. "But what?" he asked, as if hoping that just one more word—just one—might give him something to hold onto.

Lui Ming's eyes lifted past him, focusing on the man who had appeared.

"You…" he said slowly, tone laced with tension.

Realizing that Lui Ming was no longer interested in finishing their conversation, Ping An finally turned his head.

The moment he saw who it was, his entire expression changed—his face twisted with fury.

"Mu Lingfeng," Ping An spat. "If you don't get out of my sight right now, don't blame me for killing you!"

Lui Ming's eyes widened slightly. Mu Lingfeng…?