Chapter 10: You Feed Me

Next day, noon.

Gu Chi and Pei Ningxue rode a sword toward Skylark Immortal Palace.

Clouds rolled beside them.

To pass time, they played chess or drank tea.

Two cups of tea down, six or seven chess games later, Pei Ningxue grew bored.

She lay on the sword, head resting on Gu Chi’s lap.

He gently massaged her head.

Their chat turned to days ago—Fang Ziyue shattering everyone’s storage rings, finding none of Fang Xiyu’s belongings.

Curiosity sparked in Pei Ningxue.

“Where’d you hide her stuff?”

“Inside the Demon Dragon Gu—it has its own space.”

“I’m also curious—where’d you learn your medicine?”

“You seem to know every illness, every herb.”

“Last time in that ancient realm, you recognized all those herbs—who studies that for fun?”

“I read old texts when idle.”

“I think you’re lying.”

Pei Ningxue pouted, voice tinged with slight displeasure.

“I am lying.”

Surprisingly, Gu Chi admitted it frankly.

“But I can’t tell you the real answer.”

“Not that I don’t want to—I can’t.”

“I can’t explain why, so just take it as true.”

His words twisted, but clever Pei Ningxue dropped it.

“Fine.”

Gu Chi felt helpless.

He couldn’t tell her about the strange system in his head—unactivated, with only storage space and a daily draw.

Not unwillingness—whenever he tried, his heart raced, stopping him.

The system remained dormant.

Despite years of trying as a youth, no response.

He gave up, treating it as storage and a lottery.

Its only functions: storage and daily draws.

Most draws were junk.

From infancy, he drew daily.

The only worthwhile prize: Heavenly Dao Medical Canon.

Its brilliance: no need to study.

Upon choosing to use it, his mind filled with near-all medical knowledge and this world’s herb catalog.

Today’s draw, done mentally—a chocolate-flavored third-grade qi-refining pill.

He fed it to Pei Ningxue like candy.

Skylark Immortal Palace

Skylark Immortal Palace, a Lingyun Pavilion property.

Lingyun Pavilion spanned all five domains of Cangxue Continent.

Dozens of branches per domain.

Skylark, a smaller branch, still a heaven-tier treasure.

It floated in the sky, grand as a city.

The closest branch to them.

Lingyun Pavilion guarded client secrets, bowing to no one.

Their two kidnappings used Lingyun’s anonymous spirit stone notes, redeemable for high-grade stones.

Their stones sufficed—no need to cash in.

Upon arrival, Pei Ningxue grabbed Gu Chi’s hand.

She dragged him to a shop selling women’s clothing.

She browsed display cases.

Gu Chi watched beautiful fairies in ornate dresses pass by.

Cultivators benefited in form and skin—plus youth-retaining pills.

No ugly women here.

But Pei Ningxue’s beauty was one-in-a-million.

Still, legs were nice to watch.

His gaze wandered, maintaining a gentle, pure air.

Pei Ningxue waved a hand before him, holding a moon-white ruqun skirt.

“Which jacket pairs well?”

He snapped back to focus.

Today, she was frugal.

Only two outfits bought, then to a shop for undergarments and silk stockings.

At checkout, she hugged his arm, voice soft.

“Brother… I bought these for you.”

Gu Chi paid expressionlessly.

Leaving, she smirked with glee.

He glanced at her, pinched her waist when she wasn’t looking.

At home, she’d have pounced, fighting three hundred rounds.

Here, her persona was delicate white flower.

Today’s pale cyan robe made her seem gentle, refined.

Pouncing to bite would break character.

The Apothecary Visit

Clothes done, they went to the apothecary for herbs.

They needed materials for cultivation pills.

Buying pills directly cost over double the herbs’ price.

Alchemists were coveted.

Gu Chi’s Heavenly Dao Medical Canon granted peerless alchemy skills.

He was their alchemist.

When Pei Ningxue needed pills, he wrote formulas.

They bought herbs; he refined.

Her payment: sometimes a kiss, sometimes a hug.

Gu Chi felt it fair.

In the apothecary, he eyed a snow-white herb sealed in an array.

His gaze held longing.

That herb’s pill could lull his Demon Dragon Gu long-term.

But he couldn’t afford it.

His gu flared in anger or sorrow, causing chest-piercing pain.

Pei Ningxue noticed his yearning, gripped his hand silently.

He’d told her before: that heaven-tier herb, Snow Velvet Lampwick Flower, cost ten thousand stones.

It could ease his pain during emotional spikes.

He scrimped daily to save for it.

Yet when she coaxed to spend his stones, he grumbled but paid.

In Southern Domain’s palace, whatever she wanted, maids delivered in jade boxes next day.

Her late Core Formation came from childhood treasures and royal blood.

To the Spirit Essence Spring

Herbs bought, Pei Ningxue pulled his hand.

“Let’s soak in the Spirit Essence Spring.”

Gu Chi, tugged through Skylark’s streets, was puzzled.

“Usually, you’d gamble now.”

“Saving stones.”

“Gambling risks losses, so I’m quitting for a bit.”

“Saving for what?”

“Sword-tempering spirit crystal.”

“My sword needs heaven-tier crystals—insanely expensive.”

“Just three thousand high-grade stones, no?”

“Saving more to buy a few, temper together.”

Gu Chi was baffled.

These days, Pei Ningxue seemed off, but he couldn’t pinpoint why.

Her usual lavish spending—buying what she liked instantly.

Why wait?

Buying one crystal now or several later—same effect.

“Let’s hit the spring.”

“I’m saving, so you treat.”

“What? I paid last time!”

“Didn’t you see me in my bathrobe?”

“Hmph, you don’t lose out.”

“Ten stones a bathrobe glimpse—luxurious.”

Gu Chi shook his head helplessly.

Soaking in the Spring

Spirit Essence Spring, a Lingyun Pavilion specialty.

Beneath lay their exclusive spirit essence crystal mines.

The crystals’ aura healed, calmed minds, nourished souls.

Abundant energy rivaled sect inner disciple cultivation grounds.

Springs varied by crystal content.

Gu Chi spent twenty stones for a night’s private pool.

Water came from Central Continent’s snowmelt.

A room with a pool behind.

Pei Ningxue eagerly awaited.

She pulled out her bathrobe.

Gu Chi sat, eyeing the room’s wine list.

Lingyun was thoughtful: seasonal fruit wines, pricey snacks.

Even as wealthy rogues, this night was extravagant.

Like last trip, he ordered chilled plum wine, some savory dishes.

A maid delivered; he shut the door, activated the room’s ward.

No disturbances now.

Behind the door, the pool steamed.

Opening it with snacks, he saw Pei Ningxue soaking.

She playfully splashed water at him.

His reflexes dodged.

“Happy splashing snacks?”

“Tsk, you bought snacks today?”

“You treated last; my turn.”

He stripped to shorts, eased into the warm pool.

Mist swirled above.

Pei Ningxue’s white bathrobe—more like tight lingerie—barely covered chest, waist, hips.

Her long, fair legs swayed in water.

She sat on pool steps, shoulder-to-shoulder with him.

Gu Chi set a snack tray afloat, poured wine.

Cups full, Pei Ningxue had an idea.

She lifted hers to his lips, smiling.

“We’ve never shared a lover’s cup.”

“Not marrying—why lover’s cup?”

“Then I’ll feed you.”

“I can drink myself.”

“Brother… you feed me.”

Her coquettish tone disarmed him.

He raised a cup to her lips.

Arms crossed, they drank half each.

He fed carefully, but she drank fast, choked, coughed.

Eyes misted.

“Clumsy.”

She pouted, kicking his leg with her tender foot underwater.

He grabbed her smooth shoulder, pulled her close, looked down.

“You’re the clumsy one.”

Caught in his arms, she panicked slightly.

Her misty eyes met his.

In this cozy moment, he saw sadness in her lowered lashes.