Song Qingshi tried hard to calm himself down. He couldnât be sure what kind of relationship there was between this boy in the dungeon who called himself Wuhuan and Feng Jun. But in any case, he had to rescue him. As for Qu Yurong who was the target of the mission⌠he thought about the urgency and priority of both matters, and decided to save Wuhuan first. Heâll go back to save Qu Yurong later.
Wuhuan heard the breathing of the person outside the window calm down. There was no answer nor any movement. Actually, he hadnât held out much hope. After all, he was notorious for his misdeeds in Tian Xiang Pavilion. The times he used sweet words, pretended to be pitiful, or enticed guests to escape was more than just once or twice. He refused to change despite repeated admonition. The laobao already hated him to the extreme. She had originally planned to wait for his body and beauty to grow before selling him at a high price. Now that his face was broken, the laobao was unwilling to even raise him. She had spread the word that when his punishment this time was over, he would be sold to a guest who had a taste for abuse. He would serve as an example for all new children, so that they would know what would befall them for being disobedient.
It was noontime now, and the dungeon was located in a place where buyers or normal servants werenât allowed.
The person outside the window was probably a guest who has just awakened from a hangover. Judging from the changes in his breathing, he was very interested in his body. Maybe he liked to toy with injured beauties? In short, he couldnât just sit here and wait for death, waiting for bad fortune to descend. He had to try even if it was an uncertain hope. He could only do other things once he has escaped this dungeon.
Wuhuan licked his red lips with the tip of his tongue. He twisted his body, and tried saying something more seductive:
âThey all say that I was born to charm. They say that Iâm beautiful. Guest, would you like to see my waist?â
âI like pain, the more painful it is the better I like it.â
âIf you take me back, you can play with me to your heartâs contentâŚâ
ââŚâ
Hearing these words, Song Qingshi only felt distressed. From the condition of the dungeon, he could tell that Wuhuan had been locked up here for a long time. He was seriously injured and in a very bad situation. He also determined that the other party was lying to get rescued. But he couldnât speak, and he couldnât communicate with the other party. He had no choice but to stand up, leave the dungeon, and think of a way to rescue him before he could treat him.
He pondered for a long time. Using the memory of a scholar-tyrant and the eyes of the insects, he drew a map of Tian Xiang Pavilion on the ground. According to the structure and orientation of the buildings, he determined the purpose of each one. He then accurately pinpointed the treasure house. He evaded all the formations and guards. He then controlled a few butterflies and moths to carry in sparks of his fire. They flew into the treasure house through the vents and landed on wooden frames or cloth items.
The flame of the Ghost Fire was stronger than ordinary fire, and it would set on fire anything it came across.
Billowing black smoke came out of the treasure house, and the alarm formation was activated, startling the people of Tian Xiang Pavilion. The laobao, with her hair all disheveled, was crying and shouting, yelling and cursing, urging everyone to put out the fire and save the things inside. The treasure house was her life savings. It was the most important existence in Tian Xiang Pavilion. At a time like this, who would care about the disfigured money-losing commodity in the dungeon?
Song Qingshi slipped back to the dungeon without being noticed.
The Ghost Fire was an extremely high-temperature flame. It was also highly corrosive and poisonous. No matter how small the flame, it could be used as a welding torch. He carefully burned the railings on the window, crawled in, then burned off the iron chains on Wuhuanâs feet. He untied the rope binding his hands, and dragged him out through the window.
After much difficulty, Wuhuan finally crawled out of the dungeon. He fell down as soon as he stood up. He tried to support himself against the wall to get up. His legs trembled every time he took a step.
Weâre sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so weâre going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
Song Qingshi immediately squatted down and opened the hem of Wuhuanâs robe, carefully checking the problem with his leg muscles. He confirmed that it was due to his being imprisoned for too long. He was severely lacking in exercise. His leg had also been broken before and without proper treatment, it wasnât set properly which made walking difficult. This situation was a common injury in the immortal realm. It needed to be re-set. Then it will need massages and rehabilitation. Supplemented with immortal medicines, it could be completely cured.
âOkay.â Song Qingshi knew too that examining his condition in this place wasnât very good, so he held back the urge and helped him to walk a few steps. Perceiving that it wasnât easy for him to move about, Song Qingshi took advantage of the houses being deserted to nab an old navy blue robe. He used it to wrap around Wuhuan, covering his appearance and the bloodstains on his body. He then carried him on his back, and quietly jumped over the wall at the spot where he had left a hole in the barrier formation.
He stayed in the mountains all the year round to collect herbs for medicine. Although he looked thin, he was pretty strong. He was able to move about freely with an equally thin Wuhuan on his back. He once again controlled the monitoring butterflies and took a path other people hadnât seen. He avoided being seen and smoothly moved away from Tian Xiang Pavilion.
âMy benefactor is not a local?â Wuhuan lay against his back. It was uncomfortable the way the jostling made his bones chafe against his back. He finally discovered that Song Qingshi was just a Qi-refining cultivator, short and thin, and mute on top of that. There was a very clean medicinal smell on his body. It was faint and smelling it brought him comfort. It had an indescribable gentle scent, not disgusting at all.
He was momentarily dazzled by the medicinal fragrance and then, he again remembered the way this person had been touching his thighs. His heart hardened and pretending to know nothing, asked sweetly, âWhere are you taking me?â
Song Qingshi placed Wuhuanâs hand on his throat and hummed twice, indicating that he could not speak.
Wuhuan took advantage of this reckless move and confirmed the vital spot on his throat. He then retracted his hand.
Now was not the time yet. He also didnât have any suitable tool.
Two years ago, he used this method to trick a lecherous servant into taking him away. Then, when the servant wanted to do something inappropriate to him, he used a stone to kill him and threw him into the river. It was a pityâŚhe didnât have enough experience at the time, and coupled with the obstruction of his eyes, he couldnât accurately judge the direction. After running a short distance, he was caught and brought back.
This time, he couldnât make the same mistake again.
Wuhuan lowered his head. With his sense of hearing and smell, he carefully felt the sensations around him â pine trees, scholar trees, laurel flowers, Lingxin grass, a stream, wild ducks⌠He remembered the composition of each complex smell, the source of each small sound. He then made an outline of their surroundings in his mind, remembering the route that they were taking and judging his position to facilitate his escape.
Song Qingshi took him up the mountain.
There was a simple thatched cottage in the weathered crack of the cliff face. It was piled with all sorts of medicinal herbs. There was also a small pill furnace. This was where he lived. Although it was worn-out, everything was clean, just barely meeting the mysophobic requirements of a medical student.
Song Qingshi grumbled inwardly about Sword Master Mo Yuanâs stinginess in arranging his mission identity as he placed Wuhuan on a bed of dry thatch. He then he checked the condition of his injuries. He took his hand and tried writing on his palm. He wanted to tell him about his treatment program and that he hoped to get his cooperation.
Ancient writing was a bit difficult, so he racked his brains and forewent the complicated and choose the simple. He wrote for a long time.
âBenefactor, are you asking me something?â Wuhuan felt that he had been drawing on his palm for a long time, and he hesitantly apologized, âIâm sorry, I donât recognize words.â
Song Qingshi looked up in amazement. He was struck with a heavy blow.
Wuhuan took his hand back and explained patiently, âI am a mortal with eyes that are unable to see since birth. I was sold to Tian Xiang Pavilion when I was a child. I learned some musical skills and how to serve guests. No one has ever taught me how to read. After allâŚwhatâs the use of teaching a blind man how to recognize words? I also canât read.â
One canât see and the other canât speak.
The communication between the two was completely bottlenecked.
However, Wuhuanâs injuries and illness needed treatment.
Song Qingshi had to do it directly. He stretched out his hand and checked the scars on Wuhuanâs face. He then opened his eyes to the sun to ascertain the problem inside. He found that Wuhuanâs eyes werenât completely damaged, but they had been infected with magnolia delavayi poison. It was like his eyes were covered with a thick layer of fog. He could distinguish shades of light and dark, as well as the blurry outline of things very close to his eyes.
It was not easy to dispel magnolia delavayi poison. He would need to refine the Xuantian Taiming Pill.
Xuantian Taiming Pill was a superb pill that was difficult to refine. The main materials needed were the Purple Spirit Grass, the Enlightenment stone, and the core of a Ten Thousand Year Tortoise. When refining, he would also need to use a good pill furnace to withstand the fire⌠âŚ
Song Qingshi looked at the simple and crude cottage and the broken pieces of silver he had on hand. He became even more depressed.
He temporarily threw aside this unanswerable question. He then motioned to Wuhuan to take off his clothes and lay on the bed to let him treat the whiplashes on his back. These injuries had not been handled properly, having simply been some given some metal-inflicted wound medicine. Although it was fine for the time being, leaving it as is could very likely lead to fever and even life-threatening conditions. They must be dealt with as soon as possible.
Song Qingshi pulled Wuhuanâs clothes, wanting to take them off.
âCan we do it later? Iâm not ready yet,â Wuhuan was terrified, clutching his clothes tightly. He didnât expect the other party to be in such a hurry for s*x that he didnât even leave him a little bit of time to prepare. He also hasnât found any tool he could use to kill him yet. He could only plead, âMy injuries still hasnât healed. I wouldnât be able to bear it. It might spoil my benefactorâs moodâŚâ
Song Qingshi kept using gestures and movements to express his intentions: Itâs just that the injuries on your back is not good, so you need to take off your clothes and lie down for treatment.
Wuhuan had been trained for many years to take on a lead role in Tian Xiang Pavilion. Although the laobao had kept his body pure in order to be able to sell it at a high price, he was taught a lot of wind and moon matters. He understood everything that he needed to understand. When he sensed Song Qingshi not only pulling his clothes, stretching out his hand to touch the wounds on his back, but also motioning for him to lie on the bed, relax his body and assume a position to be played withâŚ
This personâs smell was very clean and comfortable, but his behavior was even more obscene than that of the servant he had killed in the past. It was too deceptive!
Wuhuan was anxious and angry, backing away repeatedly. No matter what, he refused to undress. He kept begging, âThe wounds on my body are very painful. Benefactor, please be merciful for a few more days.â
Song Qingshi heard him say that his wounds were painful. He didnât know how to explain that the treatment wouldnât hurt. His heart became more anxious. Seeing that the sun was going down quickly and that soon they werenât going to have enough light for the treatment, he hardened his heart. He took out the means to deal with a big bear child, and directly pushed him down on the bed. He tore off his clothes to expose his scarred back, held down his hands and forced treatment.
New wounds overlapped old ones. He had no idea how many times he must have been brutally beaten up.
Song Qingshi gently inspected the wounds to determine their condition.
âNo, donât touch me.â Wuhuan felt that his back was being touched by cold fingertips. The thing he feared the most was about to happen. He finally lost all rationality and he struggled frantically, cursing incessantly, âYou beast! Let me go! Shameless! Trash! Beast! Just kill me!â
He had the body of a mortal and heâd been imprisoned for a long time. He hadnât had anything to eat or drink and he was exhausted. He didnât have the strength to oppose a cultivator.
Wounds that had already healed over tore open in his fierce struggle, and fresh blood came out once again.
He fiercely bit Song Qingshiâs hand. Taking advantage of the otherâs shock, he broke free from his hold, rolled to the ground and started to crawl towards the outside.
Song Qingshi finally realized that there was a serious misunderstanding in their communication. He didnât know how to deal with such a complicated situation. After thinking for a moment, he decided to use actions to solve it.
He drew out a golden needle and pierced his sleep accu-point.
Wuhuan grew dizzy, the sky was spinning. The scene before his eyes was growing dark. He got up on his feet, swaying. He wanted to go outside, but in the end, he fell against the bosom with that gentle medicinal scent. Before falling into a stupor, he pulled at the lapels of Song Qingshiâs robe and begged, despairing,
âDonât hurt meâŚâŚâ
Song Qingshi carried him back to the bed and placed him down carefully. Soundlessly, he mouthed beside his ear,
âDonât be afraid, I will never hurt you.â
âŚ
He didnât know if his words were conveyed to Wuhuanâs heart.
However, the scarred teenager finally relaxed and entered into a deep sleep.