PID Chapter 74

(4/5)

(ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

 

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When it came to finding butterfly scale stones, the others were merely helpers; Xi Tie was the key figure. His equipment and intelligence were the most comprehensive.

 

Following the general information provided by his master and using a specialized compass for detecting spiritual butterflies’ aura, Xi Tie led them on a stop-and-go journey until they finally located a butterfly habitat.

 

The mountains layered and rivers intertwined, the scenery shifted from shadowy willows to vibrant blossoms. The habitat was hidden at the mouth of a valley, where tall, lush flowering trees thrived. It was the blooming season, and the valley was filled with a rich, fragrant aroma. Butterflies fluttered leisurely, sipping the sweetest nectar. Their colorful wings paired with the vivid hues of the flowers created a dazzling competition of beauty, making the scene radiant and breathtaking.

 

It was, indeed, a uniquely stunning sight.

 

Xi Tie’s spirits lifted as he switched to another magical tool—this time, one specifically designed to detect fluctuations from butterfly scale stones. Artifact refiners always had an abundance of intricate gadgets, and his storage device was practically a treasure trove.

 

The butterflies here were surprisingly unafraid of humans. They perched calmly on trees or flowers without flitting away even as people approached. Only when someone got too close would a few flap their wings and take flight gracefully.

 

This place and its butterflies exuded an air of tranquility—utterly serene and almost Zen-like.

 

In the past, Xiao Mo would have been captivated by such a fresh and beautiful scene, his gaze unable to look away. But today, his eyes barely moved; it was clear his mind was elsewhere, lost in thought.

 

As he and Chu Jinglan walked side by side, their hands remained clasped beneath Xiao Mo’s wide sleeves—they hadn’t let go.

 

While Chu Jinglan was more than happy to hold Xiao Mo’s hand, he couldn’t help but worry about his current state.

 

After some thought, Chu Jinglan released Qiuqiu from his spirit pet pouch.

 

Qiuqiu had grown a bit recently. Its once-round body had started to stretch out, finally resembling the fledgling form of a beautiful bird rather than just a fluffy ball. Its feathers had lightened in color as well. The only thing that hadn’t changed was its lively nature.

 

Once released, Qiuqiu circled around Chu Jinglan before habitually perching on Xiao Mo’s shoulder and rubbing its little head against Xiao Mo’s cheek.

 

The soft, fluffy sensation brought Xiao Mo back to reality slightly. He raised his hand and stroked Qiuqiu with his fingers. After greeting both its owners, Qiuqiu began curiously looking around and admiring their destination.

 

With no immediate danger present, this became Xi Tie’s stage. Yue Ming and Xi Tie walked about five steps ahead, thoughtfully giving the “little Dao companions” some private space.

 

Chu Jinglan held Xiao Mo’s hand and asked gently, “Is your cultivation not going well again?”

 

The notion of someone worrying about their inner demon’s cultivation struggles was so absurd that no one would believe it if they heard it.

 

Xiao Mo’s mind kept replaying the earlier vision—it was too vivid and too shocking for him to fully calm down. Even with Chu Jinglan’s warm presence beside him and the picturesque surroundings easing his overloaded emotions slightly, he still couldn’t shake off the lingering impact.

 

That small bit of relief allowed him to regain some clarity of thought. Beyond fear, he could finally start processing what had happened.

 

Xiao Mo didn’t know where to begin explaining; after all, he hadn’t figured it out himself yet. He shook his head, then nodded slightly before forcing a faint smile. “It’s nothing.”

 

Feeling that two words weren’t convincing enough, Xiao Mo brought up something else in a casual tone: “Not as beautiful as your sea of consciousness.”

 

Chu Jinglan blinked in surprise before his gaze softened. At least Xiao Mo had managed to divert his attention for now.

 

While pretending to admire the surrounding scenery, Xiao Mo’s mind spoke in an entirely different tone—cold and detached—as he asked the system: “System, what exactly was that vision I saw earlier?”

 

The earlier nightmare could still be dismissed as wild imaginings—things in dreams aren’t necessarily real. But this time, Xiao Mo had been fully conscious, and there was no room for excuses.

 

The system, usually quick to respond, hesitated for several seconds before cautiously speaking in a soft voice: “Host, if I told you this was your memory, would you believe me?”

 

Xiao Mo froze. “What?”

 

“When you first arrived here, you were actually very wary and suspicious of your circumstances. However, because you lacked the means to confront them, you chose to suppress those feelings,” the system explained, seemingly well-acquainted with Xiao Mo’s personality. “At that time, even if I had said more, you wouldn’t have believed me. But now, your memories are beginning to awaken.”

 

The system added: “Once your cultivation reaches the Divided Spirit stage, you’ll recall everything.”

 

Xiao Mo fell silent for a moment before asking something entirely different: “So the points really were given to me by you?”

 

After all, an infinite number of points would allow him to directly exchange for Divided Spirit stage cultivation.

 

“No, they were truly earned by you.”

 

As the system had anticipated, Xiao Mo’s first reaction upon hearing this wasn’t immediate acceptance. Instead, he searched for flaws in its explanation, maintaining a heavy sense of skepticism and vigilance.

 

Yet beneath Xiao Mo’s cold and doubtful tone, only he knew how turbulent his inner thoughts truly were.

 

Memories—only experiences lived firsthand could be called memories. How could this be his memory? Had he known Chu Jinglan all along?

 

But in his previous life, he had been an ordinary modern person—unless… unless he had another life before that? Could he originally have been someone from this world?!

 

Xiao Mo’s mind swirled with uncertainty. The system’s earlier words weren’t wrong: if it had bombarded him with such revelations back when he first transmigrated—when he was still resistant to everything about the original story—it would only have deepened his doubts and rebellious attitude.

 

After all, he still remembered his strange transmigration. No matter how he looked at it, it seemed premeditated. He’d been pulled into this world while in water that should have posed no problem.

 

At the time, he hadn’t dwelled on it because he understood the situation couldn’t be changed. All he had was a world where he felt no sense of belonging and a Chu Jinglan whose character he rejected outright.

 

But now, his relationship with Chu Jinglan wasn’t what it used to be.

 

They’d argued and clashed—but Chu Jinglan was a living person now, no longer just a few lines in a book.

 

Because of one person, the entire world had become vivid and real. Xiao Mo had truly integrated into the cultivation realm.

 

Upon learning such news now, Xiao Mo felt not only suspicion but also an intense desire to uncover the truth.

 

His fingers tightened slightly.

 

At that moment, his hand was still intertwined with Chu Jinglan’s. As soon as Xiao Mo moved, Chu Jinglan noticed—but misinterpreted it as a response. His heartbeat skipped a beat.

 

Stories often describe the budding of love as heart palpitations like thunder. Chu Jinglan had once thought such descriptions were exaggerated. But now that he had someone dear to him, he realized no metaphor could ever be too much.

 

Chu Jinglan quietly tightened his grip on Xiao Mo’s hand—careful yet firm—as they continued walking together.

 

After some distance, they encountered Jun Bushu alone. Yue Ming casually asked about it, and Jun Bushu replied: “Junior Brother Su might be forming his Golden Core soon. To avoid any accidents, I left them back in town while I came here alone.”

 

Su Baimo was already over eighteen years old. Forming a Golden Core at this age was earlier than Dai Zisheng had done back then. However, it was worth noting that Dai Zisheng had cultivated in the Middle Realm for twenty years, whereas Su Baimo was now in the Upper Realm with abundant spiritual energy and rich resources. Forming a Golden Core at eighteen was merely an average achievement in the Upper Realm.

 

It’s well known that every step beyond the Golden Core stage becomes increasingly arduous, marking the beginning of true trials. Yue Ming himself had formed his Golden Core at sixteen or seventeen, but it wasn’t until he was sixty that he broke through to the Nascent Soul stage. In contrast, Chu Jinglan, who had reached the peak of the Golden Core stage at just seventeen while still in the Lower Realm, was truly one of a kind in terms of talent.

 

When Xiao Mo heard Su Baimo’s name, he thought of the image in his mind—the Su Baimo standing before him and Chu Jinglan with a sword in hand. He lowered his gaze and remained silent.

 

At present, no one knew that Su Baimo had already consumed a Crossing Core Herb. After forming his Golden Core this time, his talent would undergo a qualitative leap, elevating him from mediocrity to the ranks of the gifted. However, how far he could go would still depend on his temperament and how much effort he was willing to put in.

 

Meanwhile, Yue Ming continued speaking: “Why don’t you calculate whether there are any butterfly scale stones here that are over 300 years old? It’d save us some trouble.”

 

Jun Bushu kept his hands tucked inside his sleeves and replied, “If I have to calculate everything for you, how many times do you think my life can endure that? Find them yourself.”

 

He wasn’t someone who calculated everything all the time—he valued his life too much for that.

 

Yue Ming placed both hands behind his head and chewed on the root of a spiritual herb he had just plucked. Nodding, he said, “True enough. Even though you’re a fortune-teller, fate is one of those things no one can fully explain.”

 

Thinking of his own tribulation of love, Jun Bushu sighed. “Who wouldn’t agree with that?”

 

Xiao Mo trailed behind them, feeling even more dispirited as he thought to himself: Do you think your fates are unpredictable? Try being me.

 

He had already thought transmigrating into a book was absurd and difficult enough to deal with. But now they were telling him he might have been a native of this world all along?

 

But… why?

 

The original story might have been melodramatic, but its characters were already interconnected. With someone like Chu Jinglan—a prodigy among prodigies—present, the ceiling for talent was already set. If Xiao Mo were some figure whose talent could rival Chu Jinglan’s, it would honestly feel excessive—too much of an overpowered cheat.

 

And when it came to interpersonal relationships, Su Baimo’s dramatic entanglements already involved half of the important cultivation world. Xiao Mo highly doubted he was part of that mess.

 

If he were an important character, where would his place be? And if he weren’t important, why did they have to bring him back?

 

Xiao Mo felt an overwhelming urge to press a button and ascend directly to the Divided Spirit stage to uncover all these mysteries.

 

However, recalling how the earlier vision had destabilized his spiritual sense, he restrained himself.

 

If an enormous influx of memories were suddenly forced into him and caused severe damage to his spiritual sense, Chu Jinglan would likely notice. And if that happened, Chu Jinglan would almost certainly transfer spiritual energy to repair his spiritual sense. If that led to another incident like what happened in the inner sea with their two “balls” clashing… That was absolutely out of the question.

 

Too intense—he couldn’t handle it.

 

Xiao Mo didn’t doubt for a second that Chu Jinglan wouldn’t leave him alone if something went wrong. He understood Chu Jinglan’s character well: unless Xiao Mo did something unforgivable first, Chu Jinglan would always help him—just as Xiao Mo had helped Chu Jinglan before. Fair and clear-cut in matters of gratitude and grudges—that was who Chu Jinglan was.

 

Should he let the memories awaken slowly?

 

But the image of Chu Jinglan dying before his eyes was too unbearable.

 

It made him anxious.

 

He had thought that as long as Chu Jinglan didn’t act like he did in the original story—sacrificing himself for Su Baimo—and avoided dangerous places, everything would be fine. Yet now it seemed that Su Baimo’s growth might lead to him killing Chu Jinglan?

 

And, somehow, it appeared to be connected to Xiao Mo as well.

 

In that vision, his own apology and Su Baimo’s words made it seem as though Chu Jinglan’s death was tied to meeting him.

 

And then there was the most glaring inconsistency: if this were about a past life, it wouldn’t make sense for his, Chu Jinglan’s, and Su Baimo’s names and faces to remain completely unchanged. This clearly wasn’t reincarnation—who reincarnates with everything intact like that? It didn’t add up.

 

It felt more like they carried the same identities but were experiencing different fates.

 

Xiao Mo kept his expression neutral so that Chu Jinglan wouldn’t notice anything, but internally, his thoughts were a chaotic mess.

 

Meanwhile, Xi Tie continued searching and found some butterfly scale stones that weren’t quite old enough but were approaching a hundred years. This discovery reinvigorated him, and he pressed on with the compass deeper into the area. Eventually, they came upon several ancient, dilapidated stone towers.

 

The towers were covered in moss, their surfaces green and lush in some places, with small flowers blooming here and there. They exuded a sense of renewal amidst decay, yet an ancient stillness seeped from the dark doorways and windows, standing silently in eerie contrast.

 

The compass in Xi Tie’s hand pointed toward the stone towers.

 

“There might be butterfly scale stones inside.”

 

Yue Ming glanced at Jun Bushu, who was still following them. “Didn’t you say you weren’t looking for butterfly scale stones? Then why are you still tagging along with us?”

 

Jun Bushu replied calmly, “I’ve finished my business and decided to travel with you all to gain some experience. Don’t worry—I won’t take anything.”

 

His gaze briefly swept over Xiao Mo and Chu Jinglan. Staying near these two made the pull of karmic threads feel much lighter, leaving him significantly more at ease.

 

Yue Ming grinned, baring his teeth slightly: “Not that you could take anything anyway.”

 

Xi Tie moved closer to one of the stone towers with his puppet in tow. Examining the stone bricks with an artifact refiner’s eye, he estimated aloud: “The wear on these stones is at least over a hundred years old.”

 

If there were butterfly scale stones inside, they might really find some over 300 years old!

 

Excited by this thought, Xi Tie eagerly lifted his foot to step inside—but Yue Ming yanked him back by the collar. “What are you thinking? The aura here is chaotic; safety is uncertain. Stay back where a Golden Core cultivator belongs.”

 

Yue Ming stepped forward to take the lead while Xi Tie scratched his head sheepishly, his face flushing red in embarrassment. In his excitement, he’d forgotten himself for a moment.

 

“I’ll bring up the rear,” Chu Jinglan said decisively.

 

Naturally, Xiao Mo—the supposed “Foundation Establishment” cultivator—would follow behind him at the very back.

 

Though there were window openings in the stone tower, as soon as they stepped inside, it became pitch black—so dark they couldn’t see their hands in front of them. Xiao Mo snapped out of his internal chaos and instinctively let go of Chu Jinglan’s hand as he grew more alert.

 

He disliked cold and dark places like this but never sought help from others when faced with such situations. His first reaction was always to wrap himself defensively in a shell of vigilance.

 

Chu Jinglan felt the emptiness in his palm as Xiao Mo released his hand, leaving only a faint trace of lingering coolness on his skin. He raised his hand and formed a ball of light using spiritual energy.

 

Jun Bushu also took out an illumination talisman, while the others used their own methods for lighting up the area. The combined effort provided sufficient lighting—but Chu Jinglan wasn’t satisfied until he conjured five or six more light spheres and arranged them all around Xiao Mo before finally stopping.

 

The previously pitch-black space instantly lit up with Xiao Mo at its center, thanks to Chu Jinglan’s light spheres, which emitted a particularly intense glow. The brightness was so overwhelming that the others immediately felt their own lighting methods were redundant.

 

They glanced around, exchanged looks, and promptly withdrew their light sources, content to bask in Chu Jinglan’s illumination.

 

With the surroundings now visible, Xiao Mo finally relaxed.

 

Jun Bushu, walking ahead of Chu Jinglan and Xiao Mo, turned back to observe the light spheres and noticed the subtle changes in Xiao Mo’s expression. It wasn’t a simple fear of darkness, but his reaction was more tense than what most people would exhibit when encountering a dark place.

 

After some thought, Jun Bushu offered a gesture of goodwill: “Do you feel uneasy in overly dark places?”

 

After all, Xiao Mo was someone who could help him overcome his tribulation—it was only right to treat him kindly.

 

Xiao Mo glanced at him lightly and nodded.

 

Chu Jinglan’s gaze shifted toward Xiao Mo as well.

 

“I’ve studied talismans and divination techniques,” Jun Bushu said. “I’ve gained some insights into matters of the heart. Some feelings can be altered—for instance, fear of thunder. Your case seems similar: excessive tension in dark places. If you need help, feel free to talk to me—I might be able to assist.”

 

It sounded somewhat like a psychologist offering therapy. Xiao Mo politely declined: “No need; it’s not a big deal.”

 

He simply didn’t like cold, dark places. Even if his nerves instinctively tightened for a moment, it wasn’t anything serious. As long as there was light, he could return to normal.

 

…Come to think of it, he had disliked overly dark places since childhood.

 

The first time he noticed this was during a power outage. Even though he knew the room was safe, he still tensed up instinctively. When the lights came back on, the welfare center teacher had remarked to him: Your fists were clenched tight.

 

Back then, he hadn’t thought much of it. But after hearing what the system had said earlier, Xiao Mo couldn’t help but wonder: could this have something to do with his forgotten past life?

 

If such a mindset lingered from his previous life, then that life must not have been very pleasant either.

 

While Xiao Mo dismissed Jun Bushu’s offer, Chu Jinglan secretly sent him a voice transmission: “If he doesn’t want to talk about it with others, is there another way to help him?”

 

Jun Bushu received Chu Jinglan’s transmission and replied discreetly: “Matters of the heart can only be eased by avoiding situations that strain his spirit too much.”

 

Xiao Mo didn’t fear nighttime—he enjoyed gazing at the stars—but he disliked cold, dark, and desolate places like this one. As long as there were lights or flames present, everything would feel normal to him again. Compared to leaving him outside alone to wait, Xiao Mo would undoubtedly prefer staying with others.

 

Chu Jinglan raised his hand and conjured another light sphere—

 

If that was the case, he would simply create more lights for Xiao Mo. With enough illumination, darkness wouldn’t dare approach him.

 

Yue Ming turned around in confusion: “It’s bright enough already—why add more?”

 

Jun Bushu glanced at Chu Jinglan and Xiao Mo before clearing his throat softly: “It’s fine—the brighter it is, the farther we can see.”

 

A light sphere landed gently in Xiao Mo’s hands, and as he held the glowing lamp, his gaze met Chu Jinglan’s.

 

…Even though everything was already clearly visible, Chu Jinglan silently insisted on driving away all the darkness surrounding him. When the lamp fell into Xiao Mo’s hands, he understood Chu Jinglan’s quiet actions.

 

Xiao Mo’s pale hands cradled the lamp, feeling its warmth seep into his palms until they almost burned. In the glow of the spiritual lamp, what he saw in Chu Jinglan’s eyes wasn’t cold frost but the soft light of sunny snow—like white snow melting under a clear sky, flowing little by little.

 

Xiao Mo held the lamp lightly in front of him, and amidst its radiance, his restless heart finally calmed down.

 

“System.”

 

Xiao Mo spoke: “Chu Jinglan’s inner demon tribulation hasn’t passed yet. No matter what, Su Baimo can’t possibly harm him now, right?”

 

Moreover, in that vision, Su Baimo’s appearance differed slightly from his current self. His features hadn’t changed, but his contours had matured entirely—this included Chu Jinglan as well. It couldn’t possibly be something from their teenage years.

 

The system gave a definitive answer: “Correct.”

 

So there was still time.

 

Xiao Mo lowered his gaze to the lamp in his hands. “If I don’t want to suddenly flood myself with memories and risk affecting my spiritual sense, is there a way to unlock them gradually?”

 

The system provided guidance: “Once you’ve realized the issue with your memories, you can immerse yourself in the deepest part of your spiritual sense to investigate. There is a door there.”

 

Following the system’s instructions, Xiao Mo split part of his consciousness and dove inward to check. Sure enough, he saw a door—but it was tightly sealed by countless chains, heavy and oppressive.

 

“You can use methods to cultivate your spiritual sense to shake those chains,” the system explained. “Each chain you break will restore some memories. Once all the chains are cleared, you’ll need to reach Divided Spirit stage cultivation to fully push open that door and retrieve all your memories.”

 

Half of Xiao Mo’s consciousness hovered before the door as he exhaled deeply. “Alright.”

 

The system hesitated before speaking again: “Host, I thought you wouldn’t believe me.”

 

Xiao Mo lowered his gaze. “I’m simply making… what I currently think is the most appropriate choice.”

 

He had even compromised with his own rationality and skepticism.

 

Xiao Mo didn’t want to see the light in Chu Jinglan’s eyes extinguished like that. The images from his memories were too vivid and shocking—the past couldn’t be changed, but the future was still uncertain.

 

Although he still didn’t understand why he was entangled with this world, since he was here now, he might as well do what he wanted to do.

 

He wanted Chu Jinglan to stand at the pinnacle, witnessing winds and clouds rise—to live well.

 

Xiao Mo withdrew his consciousness and walked alongside Chu Jinglan while holding the lamp. He had made up his mind; no longer burdened by worry, this newfound tranquility was no longer an act. The air around him felt noticeably lighter.

 

As Xiao Mo fiddled with the spiritual lamp in his hands, he glanced at Qiuqiu perched on his shoulder. After some thought, he reshaped Chu Jinglan’s lamp into a small bird-like figure. When he released it, this luminous bird-shaped lamp began flying around them.

 

Xiao Mo blinked playfully at Chu Jinglan and said: “Look.”

 

Chu Jinglan’s voice was as warm as the lamplight: “Mm, I see it.”

 

Qiuqiu stared at the glowing bird lamp excitedly and stomped its tiny feet on Xiao Mo’s shoulder: “Chirp chirp!”

 

Yue Ming: “…”

 

Suddenly, Yue Ming understood why Chu Jinglan had lit so many lamps—it had nothing to do with Jun Bushu’s earlier excuse about seeing farther. Clearly, that fortune-teller had already figured everything out long ago.

 

Yue Ming curled his lips into a grin: “I feel like my teeth are aching. What about you guys?”

 

Jun Bushu replied calmly: “Not bad.”

 

Xi Tie’s rugged face flushed bright red: “It looks nice.”

 

Enough was enough—better to look away and spare himself. Yue Ming turned around and resumed his role as the diligent pathfinder up front.

 

The light sources illuminated the interior of the stone tower. When they looked up at the window openings, they noticed that, despite having windows, no light came through. It wasn’t due to formations or magical tools blocking the light; the only plausible explanation was that the murky aura inside the tower was somehow directly preventing light from entering.

 

Everyone instinctively gripped their weapons tightly.

 

“This doesn’t look good,” Yue Ming muttered under his breath. “If the aura alone can block out light, could there be a beast above the seventh rank here?”

 

They had entered a room where both the ceiling and walls were covered in butterfly cocoons. Judging by the external features of the cocoons, it was impossible to determine what kind of butterflies they belonged to.

 

Including Jun Bushu, there were three Nascent Soul cultivators in their group. If they encountered a seventh-ranked beast, they could fight it; but if it turned out to be an eighth-ranked beast, they’d need to start planning their escape.

 

Xiao Mo, being a hidden Nascent Soul cultivator who couldn’t kill, didn’t count in this calculation.

 

Xi Tie examined the pristine white cocoons scattered around and remarked: “These are butterfly cocoons. Even if there’s a beast here, it should be butterfly-related. Most butterfly-type beasts are friendly and harmless to humans. The harmful ones have flashy and colorful cocoons, so we should be fine.”

 

Butterfly-type beasts of the seventh rank could speak and communicate with humans. Historically, such creatures had always coexisted peacefully with people. Yue Ming turned to Jun Bushu and asked: “Can you calculate anything this time?”

 

Jun Bushu kept his hands tucked inside his sleeves as he replied: “I’m quite sensitive to danger. I lean toward Xi Tie’s assessment—there shouldn’t be any major threats here.”

 

Yue Ming held his sword horizontally and said: “Alright, I’ll trust you guys this time.”

 

Despite his words, neither he nor Chu Jinglan lowered their guard. They carefully avoided stepping on any of the cocoons on the ground as they moved deeper into the tower. Xi Tie glanced at his compass and said: “Below.”

 

Underground?

 

But there was no visible passage on the floor—only stairs leading upward.

 

Yue Ming tested with his sword by lightly poking around to see if there was a hidden path. His strength wasn’t heavy, but when he struck a particular stone slab, it sank slightly under his touch. As soon as the mechanism clicked, the stone bricks beneath their feet collapsed instantly, sending everyone plummeting downward!

 

Nascent Soul cultivators could fly, while Golden Core and Foundation Establishment cultivators could use magical tools for flight. For Xiao Mo, however, avoiding exposure of his ability to fly meant he had two choices: either step onto his flute as a flying tool or pull out another flying artifact from his storage.

 

The flute option was immediately discarded. Xiao Mo had already reached into his storage device and was deliberating which artifact to use when Chu Jinglan made the decision for him.

 

Due to their falling positions, Xiao Mo happened to be directly in front of Chu Jinglan. As Xiao Mo’s legs left solid ground, Chu Jinglan instinctively reached out—wrapping an arm around Xiao Mo’s knees while shielding his shoulders—and pulled his inner demon entirely into his embrace.

 

Holding him horizontally—in modern terms, it was essentially… a princess carry.

 

The timing of Chu Jinglan’s action coincided perfectly with Xiao Mo’s attempt to retrieve a flying artifact from his storage device. In that fraction of a second, Xiao Mo was so startled that he immediately withdrew his consciousness from the storage space and stared blankly at Chu Jinglan.

 

Chu Jinglan had acted naturally and without hesitation, his expression remaining calm and composed.

 

Xiao Mo: “…”

 

This posture felt unfamiliar to him, but it did save him the trouble of finding an artifact. Since it was only for a short distance, if Chu Jinglan was willing to carry him, then so be it.

 

Still, if Chu Jinglan had merely supported him—maybe by holding his waist—Xiao Mo wouldn’t have minded. But being entirely carried like this felt undeniably strange.

 

Yet asking to change positions now would seem overly deliberate.

 

Chu Jinglan flew steadily, and as Xiao Mo nestled into his arms, he gradually adjusted to the situation. After all, it was just an emergency response—being carried wasn’t such a big deal. He didn’t even have to expend any effort himself.

 

The spiritual light lamps floated around them as Xiao Mo tilted his head to look downward. It seems pretty deep?

 

 

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1 Kofi = 1 Extra Chapter