PID Chapter 93

(5/5)

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As they passed through the door, they immediately realized they had arrived at the ninth floor.

 

Few people had ever reached the ninth floor. According to those who had returned from it, each person seemed to see entirely different landscapes there—making maps impossible for this level.

 

Every time the Nine Secret Treasure Tower opened, having even one or two people enter the ninth floor simultaneously was considered rare. Encounters between individuals on this floor were uncommon but not unheard of. Occasionally, multiple people would meet on the ninth floor—but strangely enough, even when they met face-to-face, their perceptions of the scenery differed completely.

 

One person might see towering mountains while another saw vast oceans—all at the same time and place yet standing on seemingly different terrains.

 

No one knew what kind of scenery awaited those destined to obtain the Golden Thread Diagram.

 

Xiao Mo and Chu Jinglan landed in an elegant courtyard.

 

The moment they touched down, Xiao Mo spread his spiritual sense wide and activated a system scan to confirm that Fenxiu wasn’t nearby. Only then did he breathe a small sigh of relief.

 

The courtyard was filled with winding corridors, pavilions, and towers—everything one might expect in a refined estate. It wasn’t overly large, but it had all the essentials, including a main hall and a back garden. The details were exquisite and beautiful, yet not so expansive as to feel empty or desolate. It was the perfect size for a leisurely stroll.

 

The flowers in the back garden were in full bloom, but Xiao Mo had no time to appreciate the scenery. After confirming that Fenxiu wasn’t nearby, Chu Jinglan suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood, staining his robes crimson.

 

Xiao Mo quickly supported him and led him to the nearest room, immediately taking out a pill and pressing it into his mouth.

 

Chu Jinglan didn’t know that Xiao Mo had recently ascended to Divided Spirit stage. As Chu Jinglan swallowed the pill and closed his eyes to meditate, Xiao Mo decided to suppress his aura back to Nascent Soul stage.

 

Breaking through from peak Nascent Soul to peak Divided Spirit stage in one go—even for someone as unique as an inner demon—wasn’t something easy to explain. Xiao Mo could only pretend that he had used some secret technique to temporarily boost his cultivation and that it would revert after a short period.

 

Meanwhile, Chu Jinglan’s cultivation—which had been elevated to Divided Spirit stage by the pills he took during the battle—was gradually receding as time passed. While Chu Jinglan meditated, Xiao Mo stepped outside and set up several sensing formations around the area. These formations would immediately alert him if any foreign aura entered within a hundred-mile radius.

 

Chu Jinglan’s meditation lasted for several hours before he finally opened his eyes.

 

Xiao Mo was leaning against the window frame—the first thing Chu Jinglan saw when he opened his eyes. His aura sank slightly, prompting Xiao Mo to turn toward him immediately: “How are you?”

 

Though his injuries hadn’t fully healed, Chu Jinglan couldn’t afford to completely ignore everything and focus solely on recovery—not while sharing the ninth floor with Fenxiu. His concern for Xiao Mo’s safety kept him on edge.

 

The lingering pain from the battle and the oppressive killing intent still occasionally surged through him, keeping his nerves taut despite himself.

 

“Much better,” Chu Jinglan replied.

 

Xiao Mo understood instantly—he wasn’t fully recovered yet.

 

The protective seals could block fatal injuries at critical moments but couldn’t prevent all damage entirely. Xiao Mo placed his hand on Chu Jinglan’s wrist to check his pulse. There were signs of internal injuries as well as severe spiritual energy depletion caused by overusing cultivation-enhancing pills. He estimated it would take two or three days for Chu Jinglan to recover properly.

 

Chu Jinglan’s hand rested quietly on his knee without moving as Xiao Mo’s cool fingers pressed against his wrist. He asked: “Your Divided Spirit aura earlier—was it from using some secret technique? Will it cause you harm?”

 

Xiao Mo nodded lightly and admitted: “Yes, it was a secret technique. It won’t cause any harm, but it also doesn’t last long.”

 

After confirming Chu Jinglan’s condition, Xiao Mo released his wrist and said: “So I can’t directly possess you to defeat him either. Luckily, we’re separated from him for now—perhaps we won’t encounter him again.”

 

Chu Jinglan countered calmly: “But perhaps we will.”

 

“Then focus on healing and cultivating,” Xiao Mo said firmly. “You managed to fight him for several moves at peak Nascent Soul stage with just pills. If you truly break through to Divided Spirit stage, you’ll be able to kill him.”

 

It was just like before—when Xiao Mo had unwavering faith that Chu Jinglan’s dantian could be repaired. Now he wholeheartedly believed that Chu Jinglan could truly stand against a peak Divided Spirit cultivator in battle.

 

Only Xiao Mo could believe in him so unconditionally—as though in Xiao Mo’s eyes, there was nothing Chu Jinglan couldn’t achieve.

 

And when Chu Jinglan failed or got injured, Xiao Mo didn’t show even a shred of disappointment or despair. All he felt was urgency and worry—he would watch over Chu Jinglan during recovery and stay by his side without leaving even for a moment.

 

How could someone like this not be likable?

 

The tension in Chu Jinglan’s body gradually eased under Xiao Mo’s fearless words. Xiao Mo noticed his shoulders relaxing and tapped him lightly with his flute. “Get some sleep. You don’t need to worry about anything for now,” he said half-jokingly. “If Fenxiu really comes charging in, I’ll wake you up immediately—I won’t let you have the chance to slack off. So just rest easy, hmm?”

 

Chu Jinglan swallowed the bitter taste of medicine and blood lingering in his mouth and exhaled slowly. “…Alright.”

 

He lay down as suggested but didn’t close his eyes right away. Xiao Mo waved his flute slightly and teased, “What are you still looking at me for?”

 

Chu Jinglan’s gaze lingered on Xiao Mo’s face, as if gently sweeping over it with a tender force. Under such scrutiny, Xiao Mo’s fingers curled slightly, and he began to feel a bit uneasy. “Hm?”

 

Amidst Xiao Mo’s questioning tone and subtle urging, Chu Jinglan finally spoke softly: “Don’t risk using your inner demon spirit body for attacks anymore.”

 

Chu Jinglan’s gaze was so intense it felt almost tangible. Xiao Mo initially wanted to brush off the concern with a casual remark, but under the weight of Chu Jinglan’s focused and calm eyes, he found himself unable to speak. At this moment, Chu Jinglan seemed to encircle him entirely with his gaze—carefully and solemnly, as though guarding his most precious treasure.

 

That look made the East Clear Pearl in Xiao Mo’s chest inexplicably churn once more.

 

Unable to resist, Xiao Mo reached out and covered Chu Jinglan’s eyes with his hand.

 

“…I told you not to worry—just sleep.”

 

Chu Jinglan’s lips moved slightly, but Xiao Mo kept his hand over his eyes and tapped his shoulder again with the flute. In the end, Chu Jinglan didn’t say anything more.

 

A moment later, Xiao Mo quietly removed his hand—Chu Jinglan had already fallen asleep.

 

Xiao Mo looked at Chu Jinglan’s sleeping face and raised a hand to touch his own chest.

 

Without a physical heart, emotional reactions differed from those of a human body. When Chu Jinglan had gazed at him like that earlier, Xiao Mo had thought it was the East Clear Pearl stirring within him—but was it really just the East Clear Pearl?

 

If he did have a heart… would that fluttering feeling have been coming from it?

 

Xiao Mo grew even more restless at the thought. He glanced at Chu Jinglan again—peacefully asleep—but the more he looked, the less calm he felt. Finally, he shot up from his seat and walked outside to sit on the steps by the door, hugging his knees as he stared at the flowers and plants in an attempt to collect himself.

 

Xiao Mo thought: We’ve finally reached the ninth floor—it’s a great opportunity for Chu Jinglan to cultivate. Fenxiu better not show up again to interrupt things. His thoughts shifted back: Chu Jinglan’s gaze earlier—stop! Focus on important matters!

 

The Nine Secret Treasure Tower would remain open for another month—which translated to a year within the ninth floor. A year… Ah, Chu Jinglan has looked at me like that before—stop again! Why am I thinking about this?

 

Unable to sit still any longer, Xiao Mo began pacing around the courtyard. His mind kept flipping between serious matters and thoughts of “Chu Jinglan,” with the latter clearly dominating his focus. After wandering aimlessly for a while, the system spoke up: “Host, I’ve detected chaotic emotional fluctuations. Would you like to chat with me?”

 

Even its tone had shifted—the system had started addressing him as “you” instead of “you (formal)”—a sign of greater closeness.

 

Since breaking through to Divided Spirit stage, Xiao Mo had unlocked all aspects of the system’s emotional module. Compared to before when it would only respond briefly when poked, it now displayed richer emotions and conversational depth—and even initiated casual chats.

 

Maybe talking would help, Xiao Mo thought briefly before dismissing it: But even if I talk to the system or anyone else… I don’t even know where to begin.

 

“Forget it,” Xiao Mo muttered aloud. “I haven’t sorted out my own thoughts yet.”

 

“What are you troubled about?” the system asked. If it was about the recent events, it added, “Fenxiu’s appearance isn’t a big deal. The inner demon tribulation hasn’t been passed yet—he can’t kill Chu Jinglan.”

 

“He obviously can’t kill Chu Jinglan,” Xiao Mo replied without hesitation, “but seeing Chu Jinglan injured makes me feel bad too.”

 

“No, that’s not what’s bothering me.”

 

The system responded curiously: “Oh?”

 

Xiao Mo’s pacing slowed until he came to a stop. His robes swayed lightly with his movements before settling as he stood still. After a moment of silence, Xiao Mo finally managed to squeeze out a few words: “His gaze earlier… when I think about it carefully, I feel…”

 

“No, it’s me… It’s because of his gaze that my mind is now completely filled with him. It feels so strange—I can’t calm down at all.”

 

The system replied matter-of-factly: “That just means you care deeply about him.”

 

“I’ve already come to see being by his side as the place I should return to—of course I care,” Xiao Mo murmured. “But it still feels off.”

 

Something is missing.

 

What is it?

 

Xiao Mo stood in place and began analyzing the situation step by step: Is it the extent to which I care about Chu Jinglan? No, that’s not it. Then is it my understanding of our relationship? Yes—that must be it. Because of one look from Chu Jinglan, my mind has started replaying every little detail from the past. The problem wasn’t with Chu Jinglan—it was with himself.

 

Xiao Mo explained his thoughts to the system again. After sorting through various options, the system offered a suggestion: “I’ve found a method based on human emotions from a major world’s online relationship column. This method suggests that if you’re unsure about your feelings, try imagining scenarios where jealousy—or ‘getting jealous’—might arise.”

 

Jealousy applies to many types of relationships—not just romantic ones but also familial and friendships. Xiao Mo hadn’t figured things out yet and decided to give it a try: “Alright, let’s test it.”

 

The system began: “First scenario—if he had other friends, how would you feel?”

 

Xiao Mo answered immediately: “That would be great! I hope he makes more friends so he won’t feel so lonely.”

 

“Next—if he had other brothers?”

 

“Same answer.” Xiao Mo didn’t hesitate. “If they’re loyal and trustworthy, it would make me feel more assured.”

 

“Third scenario—if he had other family members?”

 

Xiao Mo replied calmly: “As long as he accepts them and feels they’re genuine, having more people around during holidays would make things lively—it’d be wonderful.”

 

“Now for the final scenario,” the system said. “What if he had a romantic partner?”

 

Xiao Mo instinctively blurted out: “It can’t be Su Baimo!”

 

The system reassured him: “No, no—it’s not Su Baimo. It’s someone else.”

 

Xiao Mo had thought about this before—if someday Chu Jinglan developed feelings for someone and that person was truly worthy of his affection, someone who genuinely cared for him—it wouldn’t be a bad thing at all. Xiao Mo would wholeheartedly support it without hesitation.

 

However, this time, when the system posed its question, Xiao Mo froze.

 

Previously, he had answered quickly and decisively. But now, seeing Xiao Mo hesitate, the system tried to elaborate further: “Imagine there’s someone else who accompanies him everywhere, shares meals and sleeps beside him. You wouldn’t be able to occupy Chu Jinglan’s side all the time anymore. You wouldn’t have as much of his attention or his time.”

 

“If that were the case, would you feel hurt?”

 

A flicker of confusion passed through Xiao Mo’s eyes. He opened his mouth several times to respond but slowly closed it each time.

 

He couldn’t answer. He found himself unable to respond.

 

The system chimed in: “Wow, so you—”

 

“Wait!” Xiao Mo interrupted sharply. “No, we can’t jump to conclusions so quickly.”

 

“Oh, so you already know what conclusion I’ve reached? Fine, I won’t say it,” the system replied obediently, leaving Xiao Mo standing there in emotional turmoil.

 

No—there must be another explanation. How could it be? How could it possibly be that conclusion?

 

Xiao Mo turned around and stared at the closed door of the room. His eyes churned with emotions even he couldn’t fully see or understand.

 

—

 

Chu Jinglan slept for an entire day. When he woke up, Xiao Mo was crouched in a corner of the room, lost in thought. Noticing Chu Jinglan stirring, Xiao Mo’s gaze drifted toward him slowly. Chu Jinglan met his eyes and paused for a moment before quickly and carefully walking over to him.

 

“What’s wrong?” Chu Jinglan asked softly.

 

Xiao Mo quietly looked at his face before shaking his head. Knowing full well that this wasn’t a proper answer, he hesitated briefly before offering a plausible excuse for his current state: “I guess I’m just a little tired too—meditating doesn’t seem to be enough.”

 

Without hesitation, Chu Jinglan responded: “Then you should sleep instead—I’ll keep watch.”

 

Xiao Mo felt certain he wouldn’t be able to sleep but decided to go along with it anyway since the conversation had reached this point. He got up and lay down on the bed that still retained some of Chu Jinglan’s warmth.

 

The bed was quite large, yet Xiao Mo couldn’t resist inching toward the spot where Chu Jinglan had been lying earlier.

 

Bit by bit—until he overlapped with it completely.

 

Not for any other reason but because that part of the bedding felt so wonderfully warm—it seemed to seep into his very bones.

 

Lying in such comforting warmth, Xiao Mo closed his eyes—and surprisingly fell asleep.

 

In his hazy dreams, it felt as though someone lightly touched his hair. He couldn’t tell if it was real or just an illusion.

 

Xiao Mo only slept for an hour or two before waking up and burying his thoughts deep within himself. Since Chu Jinglan didn’t know about his inner turmoil, Xiao Mo pretended as if nothing had happened—interacting with him as usual and going about their daily tasks like normal.

 

Chu Jinglan spent three days recovering from his injuries before diving into cultivation again.

 

When cultivators immerse themselves in training, time seems to flow differently—even without formal seclusion. A single session of meditation or comprehension can make days slip by unnoticed. To Xiao Mo, it felt like time had returned to when they were in the Middle Realm—back when Chu Jinglan’s dantian hadn’t yet healed and they were training together in the spiritual veins of Jinxiu Pavilion.

 

But compared to those days, Chu Jinglan’s cultivation now was smooth and effortless—free from any pain or struggle. The air wasn’t heavy or stagnant; instead, it flowed gently through their surroundings. There was no hardship—only a beautiful courtyard filled with blooming flowers.

 

Likewise, in this small world visible to them both—they only had each other.

 

Xiao Mo stood in the courtyard watching bees and butterflies delicately touch the flowers while warm sunlight bathed everything around him.

 

Even the air seemed lazy and relaxed.

 

This is what they mean by peaceful times, Xiao Mo thought wistfully.

 

As Xiao Mo was lost in thought, Chu Jinglan, who had been cultivating for three days inside, pushed the door open and walked out toward him.

 

Xiao Mo blinked in surprise. Based on his earlier assessment of Chu Jinglan’s aura, he had assumed it would take him at least ten days to finish his cultivation and regain his focus—why was he done so quickly?

 

But then he saw Chu Jinglan take out several oil-paper packages and a large food box from his storage device.

 

Even Xiao Mo was stunned: There’s more?

 

How much of these miscellaneous snacks and items had Chu Jinglan stored in his storage device?

 

Chu Jinglan clearly wasn’t interested in snacks himself—it was obvious that all of them were prepared for Xiao Mo.

 

After placing the food down, Chu Jinglan also took out several storybooks.

 

Food and storybooks—both things Xiao Mo loved.

 

Xiao Mo still didn’t dare admit to himself the conclusion he had interrupted earlier. He watched as Chu Jinglan carefully placed everything on the table and said to him: “I finish my cultivation sessions in no more than five days. After that, I’ll meditate for another full five days. Take these for now—and if they’re not enough, just take more directly from my storage device.”

 

“The items are in the eastern section of the storage device—you’ll see them immediately.”

 

Chu Jinglan’s storage device had no restrictions for Xiao Mo. As Xiao Mo looked at the items on the table and listened to his words, he quickly lowered his gaze, not daring to meet Chu Jinglan’s eyes. His voice was hoarse as he forced himself to maintain composure: “Alright.”

 

He was afraid that saying even one more word would reveal his emotions, so he kept his responses brief and tightly shut his mouth afterward.

 

Chu Jinglan raised his hand slightly but then lowered it again as he reminded him: “If you plan to cultivate, be mindful. Use the spiritual energy from the East Clear Pearl freely—and if it runs out, you can always buy more later. Your spiritual consciousness is what matters most.”

 

Xiao Mo replied softly: “…Mm.”

 

His response felt too short—almost dismissive. Gripping his palm tightly, he tried to muster up more words: “You too—don’t rush. Take it step by step.”

 

In front of Xiao Mo, Chu Jinglan carried no frost—only warm snow melting under the sunlight. “Alright,” he said gently. “I’ll continue now—see you in five days.”

 

Turning away, Chu Jinglan left the courtyard. Only then did Xiao Mo dare to lift his eyes and watch his retreating figure.

 

The courtyard was quiet once more with only Xiao Mo remaining. He opened the food box and slowly unwrapped each oil-paper package inside. The packages contained precious spiritual food—each small piece of food likely cost an exorbitant amount of spirit stones. Yet now that they were wealthy, Chu Jinglan spared no expense, always giving Xiao Mo the best of everything.

 

In truth, no matter what stage of life Chu Jinglan was in, he always offered Xiao Mo whatever good things he could get his hands on—never once treating him poorly.

 

The last oil-paper package contained licorice flowers—a simple treat that seemed insignificant compared to the luxurious spiritual food surrounding it. But Xiao Mo had once mentioned liking them, so Chu Jinglan had carefully chosen things he knew Xiao Mo enjoyed.

 

Xiao Mo picked up a licorice flower with his fingers and placed it in his mouth, chewing slowly.

 

It was still that faint sweetness, yet it flowed straight to his heart.

 

His chest felt sweet, but also achingly sour—so full it seemed ready to overflow. If he had a heart, how could it possibly bear such emotions? If it couldn’t, they would surely spill out from somewhere else.

 

Perhaps from his eyes, transformed into tears streaming down his face.

 

Inner demons have neither hearts nor tears, but Xiao Mo once had both.

 

He swallowed the licorice flower and covered his eyes with his hand.

 

The conclusion the system had reached, the words he had interrupted—the truth about his relationship with Chu Jinglan…

 

So this was how he saw it.

 

He considered Chu Jinglan his closest friend, his family, his safe haven—and more than that.

 

He liked Chu Jinglan.

 

He liked Chu Jinglan deeply.

 

Through the gaps between his fingers, there was only light—no tears—but Xiao Mo’s low voice trembled uncontrollably. It was a silent cry without tears.

 

Why am I realizing this now? he thought bitterly. When we’re about to part ways—why now?

 

Isn’t this just adding to the pain?

 

Xiao Mo’s emotions broke free like a flood, unstoppable. He curled up beside the table, hugging his arms tightly and burying his head in them. He couldn’t cry, but his body shook as he let out faint gasps of breath.

 

He wasn’t in agony—no. The moment he finally admitted it to himself, what surged through him was something entirely new. It was like a fallen leaf finally finding its resting place or a flower blooming brilliantly on its branch—so beautiful, so radiant. Yet he still wanted to cry and couldn’t stop himself.

 

Chu Jinglan… Chu Jinglan.

 

You want to leave an imprint on my forehead—and plant flowers in my heart.

 

How can there be… someone as good as you?

 

But we’re about to part ways. These words—these feelings—they aren’t meant for you to know right now.

 

Xiao Mo’s shoulders trembled violently for a long time before he slowly lifted his red-rimmed eyes and looked at the items on the table beside him.

 

He had to hide his feelings. He couldn’t let Chu Jinglan sense them—not when their farewell was imminent. He would treat Chu Jinglan as he always did, as if nothing had changed. It was fine—he could endure it.

 

At least… at least Chu Jinglan wasn’t like him. At least Chu Jinglan didn’t feel the same way about him. That way, their parting wouldn’t hurt him too much.

 

Thankfully, Xiao Mo hadn’t caused him too much trouble.

 

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1 Kofi = 1 Extra Chapter