Meng Ruji scanned the bruised sky and the dense undergrowth, calculating the nearest source of sustenance. Finding a suitable grove, she scaled the first tree with the effortless grace of a true martial artist and began to pick the fruit.
Mu Sui, meanwhile, walked to the tree's base with a stiff, self-conscious air, pulling up the hem of his shirt to form a deep, improvised pouch. He meticulously gathered every piece of fruit Meng Ruji dropped, tossing aside anything rotten or ravaged by insects. He was a picture of dutiful, if intensely private, industry.
They worked in efficient silence. Mo Li stood apart, blinking slowly, clearly unsure where his own distinguished personage fit into this sudden, peasant-like routine.
From her perch, Meng Ruji glanced down, her eyes narrowing as they settled on Mo Li. She met Mu Sui's gaze and gave him a distinct, pointed look.
Mu Sui immediately understood. He shifted his glare to Mo Li, not bothering with words. He merely tugged impatiently at his own fruit-filled pouch, a silent command: "Get to work."
Mo Li uttered a theatrical "Oh," then grudgingly created his own makeshift pocket, stooping to gather the fallen fruit.
The trio, seemingly stripped of all their former glory and terrifying identities, worked diligently beneath the trees.
It wasn't long before Mo Li felt the first pangs of exertion. The constant stooping made his lower back ache. He straightened, casting a quick glance at Mu Sui, who was already surrounded by a pile of "high-quality" fruit stacked almost as high as his calf.
Mo Li's pocket, in contrast, was barely half full.
He curled his lip, then looked up at Meng Ruji, who was leaping with confident determination from one tree to the next. She shook a deluge of ripe fruit onto the ground, then swiftly plucked more by hand. The only sound in the forest was the rhythmic thudding of falling fruit.
Mo Li clapped slowly, genuinely impressed. “Little Meng is a true marvel, a monkey with such skillful grace it almost brings a tear to my eye.” He paused, then nudged Mu Sui. “Mr. Qianshan, you are quite the talented gatherer yourself.”
Mu Sui merely raised an eyebrow, his gaze flat and unamused. “Whatever is mine, you will not have a single piece of.”
Mo Li instantly snapped back to attention and applied himself with diligence to his task.
Soon, Mo Li's pocket was full, and Mu Sui's pile of fruit was considerable. Meng Ruji finally jumped down and sat beside the hoard, immediately peeling a perfect specimen.
But just as she was about to take the first bite, a pale hand shot out: “Little Meng, I’m famished. And I don’t know how to peel it.”
Mo Li sat cross-legged next to her, pouting with a pitiful intensity that was clearly false, yet somehow convincing.
Meng Ruji rolled her eyes in profound exasperation. Since she didn't outright refuse, Mo Li beamed, snatched the peeled fruit, and prepared to bite down.
A split-second crunching sound cut through the air, but the fruit remained whole.
Mo Li looked down. It was Mu Sui, who had just finished gathering the last fruit. Mu Sui had walked past and, in one fluid motion, snatched the peeled fruit from Mo Li's hand.
Mu Sui sat down, clutching his own pocket, and returned the liberated fruit to Meng Ruji, even as his stomach rumbled like distant thunder.
Meng Ruji stared at the returned fruit, bewildered. Before she could react, Mo Li's exaggerated, fake sobs began.
“Little Brother Sui, how could you treat me this way? Truly, we are not related. Your promise is nothing! You won’t even give me one small fruit…”
Before he could finish his lament, Meng Ruji snapped. “Give it to him! Give it to him, I said! It’s unbearable! Leave me alone!”
The next moment, an unpeeled fruit slammed into Mo Li's face.
The force of the throw snapped Mo Li’s head back.
“You want it? You take it,” Mu Sui said, his voice laced with cold satisfaction.
Meng Ruji glanced at him but didn't intervene, choosing instead to rapidly peel her own fruit.
When Mo Li rubbed his face and cautiously sat back, he found Mu Sui's glacial stare fixed on him and Meng Ruji watching the exchange with detached amusement.
Mo Li weighed the fruit in his hand. “Mr. Qianshan, didn’t you just say you wouldn't give me any of your picked fruit?”
“Using the tactics you just employed, I would be pleased to give you several more.”
Mo Li smiled brightly. “It wouldn't be proper for me to simply accept gifts. Reciprocity is the norm…”
With that, Mo Li threw a fruit directly at Mu Sui’s face.
Mu Sui was ready. He tilted his head slightly, dodging the projectile without a wasted movement. He then replied with utter contempt: “I don't require food given out of pity.”
Mo Li raised an eyebrow and reached for two more fruits.
“No wasting food,” Meng Ruji cut in, halting the impending food fight between two grown men acting like toddlers. “Fight with words only.”
The tension between Mo Li and Mu Sui subsided, replaced by a sullen truce.
Mo Li nodded softly. “As you wish, Qianshan Jun.”
Meng Ruji ate seven or eight fruits. Satiated, she began peeling one for Mu Sui, urging him to eat faster. This action immediately spurred Mo Li to tug her sleeve. “I want some, too, Little Meng.”
Mu Sui, mid-bite, fixed his eyes on Mo Li, chewing the fruit with a violence that suggested he wanted to rip Mo Li’s head off instead.
Meng Ruji rolled her eyes, tore the fruit in half, and handed each man an equal share. The conflict immediately dissolved into quiet chewing.
On the very first day of Mo Li’s retirement, Meng Ruji was already weary.
To distract the Nightmare Demon from further chaos, she raised a professional topic. “Where are we going to find those people from Linlan Mountain later?”
Mo Li, now full, gnawed at his half-fruit haphazardly. “Little Meng, you speak as if I should know their itinerary.”
“Of course you know,” Meng Ruji countered coldly. “Where were Mu Sui and I before? You brought the Linlan Mountain Master here specifically to find us.”
“My Nightmare Elixir lingered in my body for so long, I can sense it. Is that so unbelievable?”
Meng Ruji's eyes flicked to Mu Sui, who continued to eat, appearing oblivious.
She returned her gaze to Mo Li. “Stop the pretense. Find Luo Yingfeng quickly, secure the money, and we’ll go to Zhuliu City. A stable place for your retirement would be better than wandering the road. Who wants to support an elder on the move?”
Mo Li considered this, then nodded. “That makes sense.” He stood up, opening his arms to Meng Ruji. “Then, a hug first…”
Before he finished, another fruit struck Mo Li’s face with crushing force.
Mu Sui, who was still sitting, had a face like storm clouds. He glared at Mo Li with undisguised murderous intent, while pressing the offending hand to his chest, seemingly restraining himself from killing the man outright.
The contradiction left both Meng Ruji and the battered Mo Li speechless.
Mu Sui swallowed hard, rising stiffly to his feet, his voice raspy. “If you want a hug, I will provide it.”
Meng Ruji: “…”
Mu Sui immediately clamped his hand over his mouth. His movements betrayed a powerful self-loathing, as if the words had been dragged out against his will.
Mo Li, however, remained perfectly composed. “Not a bad offer. Come on, then.”
Meng Ruji: “Huh!”
She watched, stunned, as Mo Li lunged and embraced Mu Sui like a long-lost brother, the contact accompanied by a faint, metallic clanging. Before Meng Ruji could fully process the absurdity, she saw a gray aura leak from Mo Li, a shadow similar to the dark haze that often clouded her vision in nightmares.
The instant this aura touched Mu Sui, the light in the Lord's eyes dimmed. Like Luo Yingfeng, he became a puppet, momentarily controlled by Mo Li.
“Mr. Qianshan, Mu Sui,” Mo Li’s voice was suddenly hypnotic, carrying the irresistible power of the Nightmare Demon. “Tell me, do you remember who you are?”
Mu Sui’s eyes were vacant, his lips slightly parted. Just as both Mo Li and Meng Ruji braced for an answer, Mu Sui’s mouth clamped shut.
He bit down hard, his teeth sinking into his own lip. He resisted the compulsion with such intensity that his entire body trembled, until his lip broke and thick blood began to flow.
“Enough,” Meng Ruji finally ordered, interrupting Mo Li. “Do not ask that again.”
Mo Li complied, his aura vanishing as he released Mu Sui.
Stripped of the Nightmare Demon’s influence, Mu Sui collapsed onto the ground, utterly spent.
Mo Li’s face was noticeably paler, cold sweat beading on his forehead. The display of power had clearly exhausted him.
“You are quite resilient,” Mo Li murmured, staring at the unconscious Mu Sui. “The first person I’ve ever met like that.”
Meng Ruji knelt by Mu Sui, frowning. He looked consumed by an agonizing private battle.
“You shouldn’t ask such questions. I am already reluctant to use that ability.”
Mo Li curled his lips. “Xiao Meng, I do this for you. Your husband is quite cunning; I have to know his background.”
“What background is there to know?” Meng Ruji gently wiped the sweat from Mu Sui’s brow. “He’s already remembered it.”
Mo Li raised an eyebrow. “How do you know?”
“The water of the Naihe River allows me to see the past, even yours. Why shouldn’t he see his? The last time he emerged, his words and actions shifted. I bathed in the Naihe River; if I don’t know that much, my former title as Demon King would truly be a joke.”
“You didn't really ascend to the Demon King’s throne, did you?” Mo Li interjected smoothly.
Meng Ruji snapped: “Shut up!”
Mo Li smiled. “However, since you know he’s recovered his memory, why are you still playing this charade with him?”
“You should ask why he’s recovered his memory and is still staying with me,” Meng Ruji countered. “He is risking his mind to resist your command. Don’t you think it’s strange?”
Mo Li seemed to be genuinely considering the puzzle. “Indeed.”
Meng Ruji mused softly: “Is the mere identity of the Lord of Zhuliu City worth such deep concealment?”
“Let’s table that for now.” Mo Li stretched out his hand again. “Aren’t you going to take revenge on Luo Yingfeng? Come, hug me.”
Meng Ruji glanced at the unconscious Mu Sui. “He is asleep. There’s no need to use this childish tactic to deliberately anger him.”
“It’s not to anger him; I simply require your embrace,” Mo Li insisted. “In a place that prevents physical contact, I can utilize my Nightmare Demon power.”
Meng Ruji looked at him coldly. “What are you trying to trick me into saying now?”
“Xiao Meng’s words are so cruel! I merely want to transfer some of my power to you,” Mo Li wailed, pretending to cry. “I recently haunted Luo Yingfeng, and his aura is still faintly marked with my nightmare. I will place the direction I sense into your mind. Then, you use me as the cornerstone of a formation to control me. I can then shoot him through the heart with an arrow—or, rather, a stone. How convenient! You won’t even have to go there yourself.”
Meng Ruji listened, a flicker of disbelief in her eyes. “Seriously?”
“You are the one responsible for my upkeep. I would never lie to you, no matter who else I deceive.”
Meng Ruji paused, then cautiously extended her arm. Mo Li instantly closed the distance and embraced her. The moment their bodies touched, Meng Ruji felt a foreign sensation enter her mind.
It was a faint gray thread carrying her consciousness through the forests, brushing past birds, and glimpsing through the earth. Finally, as the thread passed a company of horses, Meng Ruji clearly saw Luo Yingfeng’s face, carried in a sedan chair.
Meng Ruji's eyes flew open. “There really is a connection.”
“That’s the path,” Mo Li urged, his voice returning to a whisper in her mind. “Follow it. Raise a fierce wind and carry me there. Take his life and his money.”
Mo Li finished speaking and immediately transformed back into the cold stone in Meng Ruji’s palm.
Meng Ruji grasped the stone firmly. “Raise a wind and carry you there, I can do. I will take his money, but according to my usual sentencing, Luo Yingfeng deserves serious injury, not death.”
The stone vibrated in her palm. “Little Meng, if he lives, how can I be assured you’ll care for me in my old age?”
Meng Ruji used the stone to control the circulating spiritual power. The aura of the surrounding mountains and forests surged and gathered around her. The rocks and trees vibrated and hummed, as if everything in the world was responding to her will.
It was once said that Meng Ruji could understand all things, change the wind and clouds, and transform the world—not because of innate divinity, but because her formations were the most exquisite in existence. She could manipulate the spiritual energy of all creation with the least effort, treating it like silk thread in an embroiderer’s hand.
The formation was complete. The wind howled, and the gray stone shot out in an instant like an arrow from a bow, vanishing into the deep forest.
Meng Ruji exhaled and looked in the direction the technique disappeared, hearing Mo Li’s faint, lingering words on the wind.
“Your fundamental flaw is gentleness and compassion.”
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