Chapter 74 Regret, Take Her to the Side Hall
The woman on the ground had only delicate features, her lips drooping in grievance, and her body was covered in dust and dirt, making her look quite disheveled. However, her eyes were exceptionally beautiful, with a gentle shimmer in them, like the most vibrant flower among a riot of colors, making one unconsciously want to offer everything to her.
Meng Youhui stared at him, a slight blush creeping up his ears, and his grip loosened a little. "Who are you? How did you manage to break through the barrier of Buzhou Mountain?"
As soon as he finished speaking, Meng Ji's brows furrowed suddenly.
Meng Youhui didn't notice this scene, but was still thinking about the woman's identity. You should know that the barrier of Buzhou Mountain was reinforced three hundred years ago, and unless you are a person of this kind, you will definitely hear a warning when you touch the barrier.
The second barrier further narrowed the area. It was set up by Meng Ji himself after returning to the mountain. Apart from himself and Xu Zhao, whose information and identities had been verified in advance, anyone who touched it would be in danger of being attacked by ten thousand swords.
Could she be a member of the immortal sect?
Or is it a powerful being?
Thinking of the recent injustices at the foot of the mountain, Meng Youhui flicked his wrist, and with a hiss, the sword blade left a deep scratch on the ground. Then, the tip of the sword pressed against Yao Jin, "Who sent you? What is your purpose?"
In the pitch-black night, the young swordsman stood tall and graceful, lacking the impetuousness of his peers who would draw their swords at the slightest provocation. Even when questioning her, the tip of his sword was not aimed at her vitals.
He truly possessed the demeanor of a refined gentleman.
The figure gradually overlapped with Yao Jin's memories, finally forming a face etched in her heart...
She gritted her teeth without saying a word, a drop of water tracing a path down her delicate cheek.
Faced with the girl's stubborn resistance, Meng Youhui was unusually at a loss. He could kill a ferocious beast with a single sword strike, and he could be ruthless and decisive in dealing with enemies, but his studies had never included how to deal with a delicate young woman.
Meng Youhui's gaze unconsciously shifted to the person who was both a father and a mentor in his life, but he was shocked when he looked up.
A considerable amount of time had passed when a sliver of light suddenly appeared on the horizon. Meng Ji's profile, hidden in the dim light, appeared as exquisite as a porcelain statue.
But the white veil covering his eyes was completely soaked, and his light blue eyelashes blinked repeatedly, their long, thin tips almost piercing the veil.
Meng Youhui had never seen Meng Ji like this before, and couldn't help but recall the scene he had just witnessed: his father angrily pinned him to the door, his whole being radiating a strong killing intent.
At this point, Meng Youhui's wavering turned to ashes. He casually pointed, his sword blade approaching Yao Jin, "If you don't speak now, you won't have to."
Meng Youhui's usual moves were all wide and sweeping. Now, his sword strike was unleashed, the tip of the blade radiating a vibrant sword intent. A golden light, combined with the cold sharpness of the sword's edge, emitted a breathtaking brilliance, and then blood dripped from Yao Jin's delicate face.
The way of the sword is to draw blood and return with it, even as life is about to end. In a flash, Meng Ji raised two fingers together and with a flick of his sleeve, knocked Meng Youhui's sword to the ground.
A clang! It rang out simultaneously with a bang.
It was the sound of a cold sword and knees hitting the ground.
Meng Youhui was shocked and immediately fell to the ground, "Father, it's my fault, I didn't hurt you, did I?"
Being interrupted in a cultivator's attack is tantamount to a provocation, or a signal to declare war. Anyone with guts would immediately engage in hundreds of rounds of combat. Meng Youhui, naturally, wouldn't attack his father, Meng Ji. However, in that instant, triggered by the counterattack, he instinctively unleashed a retaliatory sword light.
Caught off guard, the sword light severed the white veil covering Meng Ji's eyes. His eyes, which had not seen the light of day for hundreds of years, remained closed as always, but deep red marks were now stained on his thin eyelids.
"You..." Meng Ji's voice was hoarse when he spoke, and his toes froze on the spot, unable to take another step forward for a long time.
"I regret it." After a long while, Meng Ji finally suppressed the complicated emotions in his heart. "Take her to the side hall."
Upon hearing this, Meng Youhui looked up in astonishment.
*
Side hall of Wugou Pavilion
This is a side hall, which is also Meng Ji's bedroom. It is so private that Meng Youhui only entered it when he was a child, and that was when he first arrived at Buzhou Mountain and was filled with fear.
Later, when he tried to come in, he heard his father say: "I don't like to be too close to people, not even my own sons."
Yes, he was just a child his father had taken in; he couldn't rely on his father like a fledgling forever.
But now...
Having been taught proper etiquette since childhood, Meng Youhui lost her usual eloquence at this moment. In the dead of night, alone with a woman, Meng Youhui, unable to offer an explanation, fell silent.
Yao Jin looked at him and said, "He..."
Meng Youhui: "My father is not that kind of person."
Unaware that Meng Youhui's wild imagination had led him to inexplicably conjure up the image of a gold digger, he stammered, "You..."
"I'm not the kind of person who would aid and abet evil!" Meng Youhui, whose voice had been a bit loud, realized what he meant and clenched his fists. The boy's face turned bright red, whether from excitement or guilt, it was hard to tell. "Father must have had his reasons for doing this!"
Meng Youhui, who was so confident that he was practically swearing an oath to the heavens, suddenly took a breath as soon as he finished speaking.
There was no other reason than that Meng Youhui saw Meng Ji strolling towards him.
I saw his father, whom he respected to the point of worship, deliberately change into a white robe in the dead of night when he was about to fall asleep. This made his appearance look exceptionally elegant. Because he had just taken a bath, there was a faint moisture on his body, and even his white hair had turned into black strands.
...He looks exceptionally young and handsome.
Meng Youhui's anger dissipated instantly. He stammered, unable to even call him "father," and just watched helplessly as Meng Ji brushed past him, speaking with utmost attentiveness and concern:
"You must be tired after coming all the way from Qingshui Town."
Meng Ji knelt down beside Yao Jin, his voice unusually gentle, "I have a thin blanket and some coarse tea at my place; you may rest here for a while, young lady."
"Are you alright?" Yao Jin was filled with inexplicable confusion. She looked down at Meng Ji, raised an eyebrow, and asked in surprise, "You wanted me dead before, but now you've changed your tune even faster than a heartless person?"
No one knows which word touched Meng Ji, but as soon as the words fell, the grievance on the other's face was not faked, but revealed naturally in an instant. He pursed his lips tightly, and large tears fell silently, soaking his entire clothes.
Yao Jin was taken aback, a strange feeling rising in her heart. She wanted to say: She was just telling the truth, she didn't scold him, right? Why is she crying like a woman? But she was also afraid that if she said that, he would cry himself to death.
Yao Jin had no choice but to say helplessly, "Alright, I'll rest here."
"Okay." Meng Ji spoke very quickly, almost immediately after Yao Jin finished speaking, leaving no room for regret. He hurriedly got up to prepare clothes, and when he returned with a stack of colorful clothes in his hands, he finally paused in the aisle and slightly raised his chin.
The deathly aura surrounding the young man had vanished, and his taut lines revealed his displeasure and deep confusion.
Meng Ji: Why haven't you left yet?
Meng Youhui: ...
"Yes, Father." The raging storm in Meng Youhui's heart had long since swept away his mind, reason, and clarity, leaving only his father's self-reproachful weeping in his head.
Even as the sky began to lighten and Xu Zhao came to ask him if he had figured things out, he was still in a daze.
Xu Zhao couldn't help but repeat loudly, "Young master, do you know who that woman is?"
Meng Youhui let out a soft "Ah," seemingly waking from a dream, but his question made one wonder if he was still dreaming: "Have you ever seen your father cry?"
Meng Youhui only came to Buzhou Mountain after Yaojin's incident. The thrilling event three hundred years ago was just a story to him, and he couldn't even know the details of the story.
Everyone remained silent, but Xu Zhao knew the answer. However, when suddenly asked, he couldn't recall it at all, or rather, Xu Zhao couldn't associate the word "crying," which represents weakness, with Meng Ji. "Hey, what nonsense are you spouting, young master?"
"We sword cultivators shed blood but not tears. We're not little girls who would lose our dignity by crying and wailing."
These words were very convincing, whether from the perspective of a man or a woman, or from the perspective of a cultivator, so much so that Meng Youhui could not refute them. However, he had indeed seen it, and the words he had been hiding in his heart could no longer be concealed and were finally revealed.
Meng Youhui murmured, "Father may have a woman he likes..."
"Yes, that's right... What did you say?!" Xu Zhao almost jumped up. He didn't expect to get any useful information about the woman's identity, but he knew the importance of encouragement, so he planned to patiently agree with whatever Meng Youhui said.
But to his utter surprise, Meng Youhui's words shocked him so much. After a long while, Xu Zhao used his hands to thaw his jaw and find his voice, "What did you just say, young master?"
...
It's no wonder Meng Youhui could say such things. In fact, when Xu Zhao arrived at Wugou Pavilion with a sense of disbelief, he felt that Meng Youhui was still too reserved.
The plain congee and side dishes that had remained unchanged for years were nowhere to be seen. Instead, the table was now laden with osmanthus pastries, osmanthus cakes, candied osmanthus, and a dozen or so dishes of dazzling delicacies. For a moment, Xu Zhao felt as if he were dreaming.
He took a step back and stood next to Meng Youhui, muttering, "Young master, you may be getting a stepmother."
Meng Youhui: "...What nonsense are you spouting?"
"They've arrived," Meng Ji said calmly to the two of them, but his hand precisely pushed the plate of osmanthus pastries in front of Yao Jin. "Husband, Miss, these osmanthus pastries are delicious, would you like to try some?"
Upon hearing the name "Osmanthus Pastry," Yao Jin's eyes lit up, but after glancing at the plate in front of her, she thought, "...I'd better pass."
The voice sounded so strained that Xu Zhao looked in the direction of the sound and his lips twitched.
The method of making osmanthus cake is complicated, but the sect leader always prepares it because he loves to eat it. Over the years, even the chefs who only prepare dishes can make this dessert.
Putting aside the taste, the appearance alone wouldn't be like this.
Judging from its appearance, Xu Zhao made a quick judgment. His master had finally regained some popularity, and he had to support him no matter what. So he carefully crafted his words, "Master, you didn't cook this yourself at dawn, did you?"
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
