Chapter 424: Right Before the Sparrow's Eyes

Chapter 424: Before the Sparrow’s Eyes

Zhao Changhe meant every word. In truth, ever since the *Map of Mountains and Rivers* left by Xuanwu had mentioned that the “Juntian Blood Jade” needed for his body forging lay with the Ancient Spirit Clan, he had known he would have to go there sooner or later.

Now, every clue pointed in that direction—the third page of the Heavenly Book, Yunyang Ye… and the bridge between the present and the ancient past.

He had seen many secret realms, but all were small. A place where a large tribe dwelled would be entirely different—a world unto itself. To trace the last era, such a place was a necessary passage.

Precisely because of this, Zhao Changhe had long hesitated. It had nothing to do with Sisi; it was simply that he knew this journey would take a long time—far longer than going to Kunlun or the like.

In gaming terms, this was a large-scale dungeon, one that would drag a team through a month of grueling raids, dying over and over. If someone’s wife gave birth or needed to nurse a child, the group would fall apart—completely different from the solo runs of before. Who even ran large dungeons these days? Just thinking about it made him not want to go.

And with the world in upheaval, was it the right time to leave for so long?

Besides, it was genuinely dangerous. In the past, his strength wasn’t enough to dare such a venture. Now… it still might not be enough. In Tang Wanzhuang’s mind, this required someone on the level of Marquis Wu Ping, Qin Dingji… though that was just speculation. No one truly knew what lay inside—it was all blind guessing in the dark. Only by seeing it firsthand could one know the truth.

Regardless, now was indeed the time to go and take a look.

Tang Wanzhuang’s gaze grew distant. In her eyes, it was obvious that Zhao Changhe was only going for Yunyang Ye to save her life; everything else was just an excuse or a side note.

Nestled in Zhao Changhe’s arms, she was silent for a long, long time before finally whispering, “Why not let Marquis Wu Ping go instead? You come back to the capital with me and help manage affairs…”

Zhao Changhe looked at her with exasperation. “Marquis Wu Ping can train the Blood Rakshasa Body in my place, huh…”

Tang Wanzhuang pressed her lips together and looked down, avoiding his gaze.

She always felt he was making excuses.

“Alright, I’m not some spoiled brat clinging to his mother. I really do need to go myself.” Zhao Changhe reached out and tickled her chin, feeling like he was petting a cat. “Besides, I’m not leaving right now. My injuries haven’t healed yet—I need to recuperate for a while. If you’re worried, why not use this time to help me prepare?”

Tang Wanzhuang, tickled and annoyed, grabbed his hand indignantly. “Preparation goes without saying… and now you’re getting handsy! Want me to throw you into the pond?”

“Do you know what I’m most worried about if I leave?”

She hadn’t thought about it before, but his question made it clear.

What he worried about most was her illness. If he was gone too long, he didn’t know if something might go wrong—and then there would be no one to treat her.

Back in Xiangyang, he had only suppressed the aftereffects of that faint opening of her Third Secret Treasury. Her original condition remained unchanged, with little improvement. He hadn’t continued treatment afterward—partly because there were no medicines, and partly because his own Return Spring Art still needed improvement. He hadn’t deliberately prolonged the “treatment” just to steal kisses.

According to his earlier judgment, she had only two or three years left. Another year had passed, and barring any major accidents, she had little more than a year to live…

And if something went wrong during that time—like a fierce battle or an injury—that span could shrink indefinitely, even leading to sudden death at any moment.

He couldn’t rest easy.

“There’s… medicine now…” Tang Wanzhuang lowered her head and murmured, “The Transformation Lotus and Bodhi Fruit—I’ve already prepared them. If I take them myself, they should repair my damaged meridians, and I won’t cough so easily… And… this medicine would also help you recover from your current injuries…”

“But there’s only one dose? So you’ve been saving it, not taking it?”

“Mm…” The more she spoke, the more flustered she became. She knew where this was heading.

In truth, when she had prepared the medicine, she had already vaguely realized what she would have to do. That was why she had saved it, not taken it herself… She had simply avoided thinking about it.

Dual cultivation. Sharing the medicine’s power between them—the most efficient use.

And for such dual cultivation, the earlier kiss-like breath transfer, as light as a tickle, would hardly suffice. The medicine’s energy had to spread through the limbs and bones, soak into the meridians—could a kiss do that?

Clearly, it would have to be real…

But to do it for this reason… Tang Wanzhuang’s heart was tangled. She couldn’t say she was unwilling, but neither could she say she was willing. It felt too hasty, not something that should happen like this.

So she didn’t want to bring it up herself. But now that Zhao Changhe had, she had to face it.

He would want it, wouldn’t he? That was all he ever cared about—making the First Seat of the Tang Clan wash up and wait.

Of course, Zhao Changhe didn’t absolutely need this medicine for his injuries. But with the atmosphere already set, who would give up such a perfect excuse—healing wounds and fulfilling a long-cherished wish in one go?

Zhao Changhe was saying, “Let me see the medicine. I’m your attending physician—don’t you go acting on your own.”

Tang Wanzhuang curled her lip. Keep pretending, why don’t you.

But her hands obediently produced the medicine. The two ingredients had been blended into a pill, no larger than a fingertip, crystalline as jade, like a pearl.

The vast life force of Buddhism radiated from it; just a sniff made one’s whole body feel refreshed. It was clearly a supreme healing treasure.

Zhao Changhe smiled as he placed the pill between Tang Wanzhuang’s lips. She held it there, staring straight at him.

Sure enough, the next moment, Zhao Changhe kissed her.

Tang Wanzhuang sighed inwardly and closed her eyes.

She knew it… there was no escape, was there?

But in her heart, she still felt it was too rash. The first time shouldn’t be like this.

Just as she thought that, she felt Zhao Changhe’s tongue push the pill into her mouth, while his hand roamed, seemingly about to untie her belt.

Instinctively, she tried to push him away, to stop.

But then her chest went numb—he had sealed her acupoint.

Tang Wanzhuang’s eyes flew open in shock. Afraid I’d resist, so you did this?

Zhao Changhe leaned close to her ear and whispered, “You were saving that medicine for me, weren’t you… You never care about your own life… Were you planning to push the pill into my stomach with a kiss? Dream on.”

Tang Wanzhuang: “?”

His lips pressed down again, fiercely prying open her teeth and forcing the pill deep into her throat.

“Gulp.” The pill slid down into her stomach.

Zhao Changhe gave a smug hum. “Can’t spit it out now, can you?”

His finger pressed on her mid-abdomen, and the Return Spring Art activated at full force. In an instant, the pill dissolved into her body, soaking into her shattered meridians.

Tang Wanzhuang just stared at him blankly. The stiffness from the sealed acupoint began to soften, and she let his hand trace along the lung meridian, point by point, until it stopped outside her lungs.

Where was that…

Zhao Changhe’s expression also grew strange. So soft…

Tang Wanzhuang’s cheeks flushed crimson, and she turned her head slightly.

Oh? She could turn her head? The acupoint had been broken?

If it was broken, why wasn’t she struggling? Just turning away?

Without a second thought, Zhao Changhe slipped his hand inside. “I need to use my palm to stabilize the lungs—can’t do it through clothes. Everyone knows that would cause a qi deviation…”

Tang Wanzhuang was caught between exasperation and amusement. She wanted to say something, but the words stuck in her throat.

Compared to how he was wholeheartedly thinking of her, these little lecherous thoughts… she would indulge him.

Her clothes slipped half open, her snow-white shoulder bared under the moonlight. The moon was like frost and snow; her skin like congealed fat.

Soft gasps drifted through the moonlight, and even the moon couldn’t help but hide behind the clouds—whether out of shyness or shame at its own inadequacy.

On the horizon, the first glimmer of dawn appeared. Over the wall, two faces poked out—one bird-like, one turtle-like.

The bird face was already that of a firebird, but now it blazed with such fury that it seemed to dye the morning clouds red.

The turtle face blinked its eyes, utterly delighted.

“Listen to that voice, so wanton…” The voice of Zhuque came through gritted teeth. “Who does she think she’s fooling with that cold, aloof act?”

San Niang thought to herself, *You usually act so proud and violent, but in this form, you’re even more interesting. Don’t go pointing fingers.*

Their appearance and words were impossible for Tang Wanzhuang to miss. Flushed with shame and anger, she tried to push Zhao Changhe away, but her body was too weak and limp to do so.

He couldn't help but fume: "Still nibbling? Where's your martial vigilance! Someone's coming!"

Zhao Changhe was startled, but before he could react, a fragrant breeze swept by, and Vermilion Bird's voice came: "Go on, as agreed, do it right in front of Vermilion Bird Venerable—I am indeed enjoying the show."

Tang Wanzhuang was mortified and furious inside, but on the surface she refused to concede defeat before this old rival. Her eyes darted around, and ignoring her own disheveled state, she reached out her jade-like arm to wrap around Zhao Changhe's neck, murmuring seductively: "We're just being intimate—what does that have to do with you, Venerable? You forbid your own saintess from being with him, but do you think you can forbid me as well? How meddlesome."

Vermilion Bird was fuming with rage.

For the first time in her life, Tang Wanzhuang took the initiative to press her lips to Zhao Changhe's, kissing with smacking sounds.

Wearing that mask, watching helplessly with no excuse to stop—are you especially pleased, Venerable?

Vermilion Bird Venerable was not pleased at all; Black Tortoise Venerable was so delighted he nearly rolled on the ground.

But the gentleman in question himself couldn't hold it together, awkwardly pulling back a little: "Stop it, aren't you two Venerables embarrassed watching? ... So, what brings you here?"

"Nothing much..." Vermilion Bird folded her arms: "Just want to see you do it—for real. What's the point of half-unbuttoning? Go all the way."

Tang Wanzhuang rose gracefully, lazily adjusting her collar, and returned to her seat to boil water and brew tea as if nothing had happened: "If you want to watch, Venerable, go watch your own subordinate Yihuo Snake. I won't keep you company... Have you seen enough now? If there's nothing else, please leave. No need to see you out."

Vermilion Bird hardly knew what she was feeling.

This feeling of being taunted to her face but unable to tear into her—so infuriating... This Vermilion Bird account is truly ruined.

But then again, at this moment, Tang Wanzhuang's innate femininity was radiating unrestrainedly, making her seem almost unrecognizable. In over a decade of rivalry, never had they imagined such a demeanor could appear on Tang Wanzhuang—like a quiet orchid in a secluded valley suddenly bursting into bloom, transforming into a peony.