Chapter (2): The Mission

Having dreams is always a good thing, isn’t it? Obsidian’s mouth twitched slightly. After speaking, Yan Nianqing realized his words were inappropriate and quickly added, “Daddy, with your current physical condition, cultivating is not suitable for you.” In fact, it was better for him to just stay put and rest.

With a sly grin, Obsidian tousled the little chick’s hair into a bird’s nest, finally feeling a bit of relief. So, in a world teeming with monsters and demons, he’d crossed over only to end up with a useless constitution? This was far different from what he had imagined!

Yan Nianqing pulled out a scroll and handed it to Obsidian. Obsidian asked, puzzled, “What’s this?” Yan Nianqing unrolled the scroll and replied, “A map of the Underworld. Daddy, there are a few places here you must never go.”

“Why not?”

Yan Nianqing turned to him with sincere eyes, his small hand gripping Obsidian’s. “Daddy, I really hope you’ll live a long life!” Yes, Obsidian thought, he wanted to live long, too. He listened quietly as Yan Nianqing continued, “Daddy, places like the Elder Hall, the Bridge of Helplessness, the Hall of Asura, Hell, and the Pool of Reincarnation are all strictly forbidden.”

Obsidian nodded. He could understand why the Elder Hall, the Bridge of Helplessness, Hell, and the Pool of Reincarnation were off-limits, but what was this Hall of Asura? Unconsciously, he voiced his doubts.

Yan Nianqing’s gaze dimmed for a moment before he looked up, his face once again that of an adorable and pitiable child. “The Hall of Asura isn’t impossible to enter, but few ever make it inside. Usually, one is crushed by the barrier outside the hall before even stepping through the doors.”

After speaking, Yan Nianqing nuzzled into Obsidian’s embrace. “Daddy, since you’re unfamiliar with the Underworld, you must always take Little Nian’er with you, okay? Little Nian’er is strong now and can protect you.”

Obsidian was helpless but deeply moved. He hugged Yan Nianqing back, squeezing his hand gently. “Alright, Little Nian’er.”

A laugh sounded. “Are we interrupting this touching father-son moment?” Ghost Lantern, having finished his tasks, had inquired about Obsidian’s whereabouts and only after some time found them here. Behind him was Yanluo, who had just completed his official duties.

Yanluo wore dark robes, the swirling cloud patterns at the collar and lapels subtle and refined. His ink-black hair shone faintly, gathered in a black jade crown and secured by a dark hairpin. Even dressed all in black, his strikingly handsome features could not be hidden—if anything, the austere color only added to his air of restrained allure, like a lotus inked upon water, to be admired from afar but never touched.

With hands clasped behind his back and lips pressed in a straight line, Yanluo betrayed no emotion, his demeanor severe. Yet when his gaze accidentally fell upon Obsidian, his hidden hands clenched unconsciously.

In contrast, Ghost Lantern favored lighter tones—a pale blue robe, hair bound with a white jade hairpin, and at his waist a scented sachet exuding a refreshing fragrance. The scent came from his own blend of herbs, for all in the Underworld knew that as its second-in-command, Ghost Lantern was a master of pharmacology. Though his cultivation was not weak, it was those chilling concoctions that truly inspired fear.

The two men together were a study in contrasts, but Obsidian spared them little attention. He’d long since become immune to mere appearances—after all, he saw a face of peerless beauty in the mirror every day.

Feigning nonchalance, he let his gaze sweep the room, lingering briefly on the man dressed entirely in black. Yes, he was probably, most likely, immune by now.

After brushing off the dust from himself and Yan Nianqing, Obsidian stood and asked, “Is there something you need?”

Ghost Lantern nodded. “Yes and no. The Elders have filed a complaint about you, but it’s nothing serious.”

A complaint? Obsidian was baffled. He hadn’t even started his duties yet; what could there be to complain about?

“The Elders say that the position of Wuchang requires contact with a vast array of people across the Five Realms. A mere mortal could never handle such a task.”

Hearing this, Obsidian thought the Elders were being quite reasonable, until Ghost Lantern continued, “They also suggested that instead of wasting food in the Underworld, perhaps you should work in Hell, punishing those sent there.”

Savages! Every last one of them! Obsidian grumbled silently.

“So, after some discussion, we decided that if you can capture that evil spirit, you may continue as Wuchang. If not—well, there is no ‘if not.’ You must succeed. Besides, you and that evil spirit have quite the history. I expect it won’t be long before he seeks you out,” Ghost Lantern added.

Seek him out? A chill ran down Obsidian’s spine as he instinctively hugged Yan Nianqing tighter.

Ghost Lantern exchanged a knowing look with Yanluo and thought, The son is far more proactive than the father, at least he knows to strike first and curry favor.

“So, after further discussion, for your safety, you may have someone accompany you, just in case,” Ghost Lantern said.

Without hesitation, Obsidian declared, “I want Little Nian’er with me.”

At those words, the room’s temperature dropped several degrees.

Obsidian, unsure why, glanced guiltily at the dark-faced Yanluo, then quickly excused himself, mentally chanting, Stay away from the iceberg, stay away from danger.

Late at night, after everyone had gone to bed, the door to Obsidian’s room opened soundlessly. Inside, Obsidian slept soundly with Yan Nianqing in his arms.

Suddenly, the intruder reached over and plucked the small child from Obsidian’s embrace, grabbing him by the back of his collar and heading toward the door.

Half-awake, Yan Nianqing rubbed his eyes, realized he was dangling in midair, and instantly became alert. He turned to glare at Yanluo, shouting, “Old man! Rotten old man! Put me down!”

Seeing Yanluo unmoved, he called out toward the bed, “Mama! Mama, help—”

With a thud, Yan Nianqing was tossed in a graceful arc out the door, which promptly slammed shut. Landing with a jolt, he reverted to his adolescent form, tried vainly to open the door, then stalked off, grinding his teeth in frustration.

In the haze of sleep, Obsidian thought he heard Little Nian’er calling him and sat up halfway, mind still foggy. He stared blankly at Yanluo. “Where’s Little Nian’er?”

At that moment, Yanluo saw Obsidian in an entirely new light. The attire he’d subconsciously chosen for Obsidian often matched his own: an ink-black undergarment, half undone, eyes innocent and bewildered, staring at Yanluo in confusion.

From Yanluo’s vantage, he could see the pale, smooth chest half-exposed within the garment, the cherry-red tips, and a sliver of skin revealed at the waist.

Yanluo’s gaze darkened, his eyes growing deeper and more dangerous, as though a storm was about to break. He slowly returned to the bedside but did nothing further. No one knew better than he that this was merely a fragment of the man he truly desired—the whole, unbroken soul that was Obsidian. With that thought, he lay down beside Obsidian, gently eased him back down, and said, “Go to sleep.”

Until that man returned, he would protect this incomplete soul, even if, once the true one returned, he was no longer wanted. Yanluo’s lashes trembled, and his already pale face grew even paler.

In a daze, Obsidian heard someone whispering, murmured a response, then rolled over and wrapped himself around Yanluo like an octopus, sinking into a deep sleep.

The next morning.

Obsidian awoke to the sensation of something pressing him down. Opening his eyes, he discovered he was clinging tightly to the ice-faced man, who seemed to be restraining him to prevent any tossing and turning.

Obsidian withdrew his hand and rubbed his neck. There was nothing he could do about his unruly sleeping habits. Oddly, he distinctly remembered hugging something cold and comfortable through the night, thinking it a dream, yet upon waking, it had turned into a person. Where had Little Nian’er gone?

As his mind cleared, Obsidian became aware of how intimate their positions were—Yanluo’s legs entangled with his, an arm draped over his waist, and something pressing rather noticeably…

Obsidian’s face flushed scarlet. What was this situation? Calm, stay calm.

He looked helplessly at the still-sleeping Yanluo and, in a sudden realization, noticed the man’s sleeping posture was quite impressive—and his looks, well, they were truly something.

Obsidian’s gaze drifted downward. Yanluo’s fitted robes had come slightly undone in the night, revealing a remarkable physique. Obsidian eyed the firm abdominal muscles, then touched his own less impressive belly.

Comparisons really were infuriating!

Speaking of abs and that alluring line of muscle—were they real? Obsidian slowly reached out a tentative paw, glancing nervously at Yanluo, and when he saw no response, proceeded boldly.

He touched them—yes, they were real! But how could this man’s skin be so smooth? He was a man, wasn’t he? Obsidian, lost in his explorations, became completely absorbed in his own world.

A voice, cool as a mountain spring and tinged with amusement, sounded in his ear. “Had enough?”

Without looking up, Obsidian muttered, “Don’t interrupt, let me touch a bit more.”

Yanluo made no further comment.

After a while, Obsidian suddenly froze, stiffly raised his head, and forced an awkward smile. “Good morning!”

Yanluo chuckled softly. “Good morning.”

Obsidian was left utterly dumbfounded, and without thinking, lashed out with a kick. Heaven help him—what on earth was he doing?