Released from Prison

“Really can’t contact Mr. Villain at all?” Liu Xiaodai lay on the table, listless. “If something goes wrong with that halo, I guess I’ll really have to pack up and leave…”

Wang Wei crawled out from the half-assembled time-travel machine and wiped his face. “Still can’t detect any fluctuations… What’s the point of the wrong halo again? Automatic whitewashing? That’s not so bad…”

“That halo is still being debugged, we don’t know what side effects it might have!”

“Hahaha, what negative effects could a whitening aura possibly have? Could it be albinism?!”

Liu Xiaodai glared at him fiercely; Wang Wei awkwardly hung his head.

“It could really be albinism…”

I am the paper family’s simple divider******

“This halo assistant trial has ended. Dear customer, you still have two uses remaining.”

Luo Mingchuan had already left; Yin Bi was brought back to his senses by the electronic prompt ringing in his head.

During his recent interaction with Luo Mingchuan, the memories related to the academy had been mostly restored. It seemed he had to contact the relevant person to “activate” those memory fragments.

He was busy watching the memories, not paying any attention to what expression he had made or what he had said under the halo’s influence.

But Yin Biyue still didn’t understand, because in the memory that night of the academy graduation, he had had a few drinks and gone back to his room to sleep early.

Seeing the tangled, pained, regretful expression on Luo Mingchuan’s face just now—could it be that he had borrowed the original person’s money and not paid it back?

No, no, no, too low. Was it that he slept with the girl the original person had a crush on? Ugh, Cangyao’s Dao of cultivation values restraint; if he had leaked his Yuan Yang that early, he would hardly have even entered the path.

Could “Qiongzhou” be a lever against the protagonist? Did he get spooked and run because he was hit where it hurt?

He really couldn’t figure it out; his head was still a little dizzy.

But this should count as having successfully fooled the protagonist, right?

For now, he decided to trust that halo assistant once.

With that thought, he sat back against the corner of the wall, shifted into a more comfortable position, and continued trying to dig through the scattered memories in his mind.

The world was dark and lightless, which greatly improved the quality of his sleep.

Seven days passed in the blink of an eye.

That day the sky was clear and bright, and a gentle breeze blew.

Before Yin Biyue was released from the cell, a guard handed him a loose black cloak. With the hood shielding his face, the glaring daylight didn’t blind him.

Breathing in and out, the air was fresh and moist, lush with green; looking up and down, his gaze swept across a stretch of verdant, rolling mountains.

Four disciples in Cangya Daoist robes, bearing the marks of law, handed him over with the dungeon guard; two before and two behind escorted him up the mountain. He was being taken to the main peak’s Qinghe Hall to face a public trial.

Yin Biyue’s poor reputation in the past was due to arrogance and gloom.

Now, after the incident of harming fellow disciples, he was even more despised for his corrupt heart and cruel deeds. Each of the escorting disciples showed contempt on their faces, and one even snorted coldly.

Yin Biyue sighed inwardly: large orthodox sects really are different!

Such good manners—she didn’t even open her mouth to insult him!!

This body hadn’t moved for too long, its cultivation sealed, and perhaps also weighed down by the oppressive terrain of the dungeon-like Cangya Mountains; after taking a few steps his waist ached and his legs went weak, he couldn’t muster any strength.

Taken off guard by a shove, the escorting disciple behind him snapped impatiently, “Hurry up!”

A shout rang out like thunder, “Stop!”

Yin Bi, who had been fully engrossed in pondering the public trial, was abruptly interrupted and didn’t immediately react; he said without thinking, “It’s not their fault, I was the one walking too slowly.”

Her heart tightened suddenly—this voice… Luo Mingchuan!

Not far off he saw a flash of white clothing, a light and agile figure—like a lone point tracing the ancient trees and verdant woods, the tips of their toes barely touching the ground—and in a few bounds they landed before him.

Yin Biyue sighed, tsk tsk tsk, that handsome protagonist face looks even better under the clear daylight.

But the person before him only stared blankly, eyes deep and searching, as if a thousand words were stuck in his throat.

He didn’t even react when the escorted disciple bowed and cupped his hands, calling out “Uncle Luo.”

This left Yin Biyue completely bewildered.

Protagonist, are you nearsighted? How could you be staring like that for so long?

Since Lu Mingchuan left that day, I haven’t slept through a single full night for seven days.

When I close my eyes, all I can see over and over is the boy from the dungeon: innocent with a faint smile, obsessively consumed, distant and indifferent…

He sat in meditation through the night, intent on concentrating his thoughts and calming his spirit.

The bits and pieces of the three years at the academy flashed before his eyes in a series of vivid scenes.

Finally, on a night when the lotus throne’s ripples shattered the moonlight, he overturned a wine cup, staining that swath of moon-white wide sleeve.

A drunken remark he once made years ago had actually been taken seriously by his junior disciple, and now he had become so stubborn…

That’s right — although my junior brother was naturally gifted, he was still very young at the time, ignorant of worldly ways, with the innocent heart of a child, simple and pure.

He was the one who made the promise, and later broke his word.

My junior apprentice, because he broke the promise and offered no explanation, and because his innate pride forbid him from demanding one, could only suppress himself.

After repressing it for so long, his temperament changed; an obsession grew.

And that’s how things came to this point…

All of these years’ events have explanations.

It was him who ruined my junior brother.

Before coming this time, he thought he had it all figured out. After all, the matter of the secret realm ultimately stemmed from him, and he was willing to shoulder the responsibility alone.

As for his junior brother’s stubborn, deep devotion, though he could not return it, he could patiently guide him, lead him out of the delusion, and help him let go of his attachments and anger.

But when he actually saw the frail boy stumble from a shove and yet straighten his spine to stand up, his heart involuntarily surged with pride. He hadn’t even noticed—he had never been so harsh in rebuking others before.

In just seven days, the boy seemed to have lost even more weight… reduced to little more than bones, as if a gust of wind could blow him away.

The cool, aloof brows and eyes were hidden beneath the wide cloak’s shadow, revealing only a gaunt chin and bloodless, thin lips.

He couldn’t help but wonder whether the youth had been injured during the Purple Mansion’s secret realm—if he bore wounds, had his cultivation been sealed, and then been thrown into prison. How hard these days must have been.

The four law-enforcing disciples escorting Yin Biyue saluted; seeing Luo Mingchuan remain silent, they did not dare to rise.

Recalling the earlier scene, they pondered to themselves that Uncle Luo was always gentle and kind—so how could he have shown such sternness and severity just now.

But unexpectedly he heard a cold, clear voice, calmly and flatly explaining.

It wasn’t their fault; I was the one who walked too slowly.

He was actually excusing them? This person… how was he different from the rumors?

Luomingchuan’s heart churned with mixed feelings. After a long moment he asked in a husky voice, “Are you… all right?” Then remembering the others nearby, he cleared his throat, “Stand up.”

The four disciples all stepped back to one side without being told.

The young man remained silent.

A pang hit Luo Mingchuan’s heart. Could his junior brother have mistaken him for someone who came to gloat?

He took two hurried steps forward and quickly explained, “Don’t worry, I have a way!”

Yin Biyue kept feeling that Luo Mingchuan’s reaction was a bit strange, as if… a little too enthusiastic?

Then she quickly let it go—long live the saintess method!

I’m creating this! I’m counting on you, protagonist!!

Being expelled from the sect doesn’t matter! Just keep your cultivation level!!

Just as the east wind blew through, waves of sound rolled across the deep mountains and forest, echoing without end.

It lifted the hem of Luo Mingchuan’s flowing robe and tossed back the hood of Yin Biyue’s black cloak.

Luo Mingchuan cried out, “Junior brother, your hair!”

The young man stood against the wind, three thousand silver strands scattering like snow in the sunlight, wildly billowing!

Yin Bi swept her eyes across him and silently thought, “This is bad.”

The dungeon was dark, and he hadn’t been paying attention to his own appearance, so he had no idea when he had ended up like this.

Was it a side effect from the original owner’s attempt to forcibly break the seal on his cultivation? Or did something go wrong with his spirit when he crossed over? How else to explain this rare sign of falling into demonic frenzy?

Who cares—Lu Mingchuan didn’t have any ocular techniques to use anyway; maintaining the persona would suffice.

The young man only glanced at him indifferently and said coldly, “Nothing.”

The implication was: it’s none of your business.

Luomingchuan felt the youth’s indifference like a tiny thorn, gently piercing the most tender part of his heart, making every breath ache faintly.

He would rather his junior brother hate him and scold him.

Alive and emotional, as if in prison. He didn’t want to endure such indifference.

To him she was like an insignificant stranger.

The four disciples escorting them were also shocked—how did this person’s black hair turn white… could it be that he’d been driven mad by his cultivation?

Looking again at Luo Mingchuan’s reaction, this situation… why was it different from the rumors?!

Could there be some hidden secret?!

As it turned out, no matter how upright a sect was, they were all gossipers at heart. The escorts lowered their heads to avoid looking, but their eyes lit up and their ears perked forward.

Firsthand news! Live broadcast! The primary disciple of Cangya and the genius of Xihua Peak — the unsaid bits about the two of them!

Unfortunately, the two protagonists were destined to disappoint them.

The young man looked toward one of the escorting disciples, his cool voice sounding again, “Let’s go, don’t waste time.”

“Ding—Villain expression ‘eyes like knives’ detected, condition met, halo activated!”

Yin Bi grew more frantic. What the hell! He just glanced at someone casually!!

Where are these knives coming from!! Where!!!

Not even the hatred of a passing extra is being spared! Your halo is really something!!

Cheng Xi was looked at, and it felt like meeting a clear, pure spring that made his heart suddenly tighten.

He was a disciple of the Hall of Law and had received the task of “escorting Yin Biyue” the day before. He had long heard the name of this uncle—top scorer of the academy’s final exams, a once-in-a-generation genius on Xihua Peak. To a junior disciple of the Hall of Law like him, he was naturally someone to admire but never reach.

But no matter who it was, if their heart was corrupt and they harmed fellow disciples, the crime was unforgivable.

He had assumed that Uncle Yin would be the narrow-minded, sullen type the rumors described, but now he didn’t dare make such a rash judgment.

The lean young man simply stood there, like the pine and cypress on Tianxin Cliff, like the perennial snow on Chenyun Ridge.

A chill and aloof grandeur, beyond reach.

Jealous enough to want to kill Master Luo? Does this man even have Master Luo in his sights? Not at all!

Uncle Luo’s reaction was also very odd… he was daydreaming, lost in thought, when the youth suddenly glanced at him and urged him to hurry.

The youth was actually thinking about them, the disciples being escorted?

Worried they might be punished for missing the appointed time…

Could someone like this really harm fellow disciples? For the first time, doubt welled up in Cheng Xi’s heart.

He gave a disguised, clear cough, saluted Luo Mingchuan, and said, “The public trial will be in an hour; Master Luo, please don’t make things difficult for us.”

The other three disciples also saluted in turn.

Luo Mingchuan wanted to say more, but the young man had already turned away. The four escorting disciples hurried to follow.

Only the resilient, upright back remained, three thousand silver threads shining and rippling, falling over the ink-black robe like drifting mountain snow.

Clearly he was walking toward an unknown punishment, yet it felt like he was striding along a grand avenue. There was no fear.

Luo Mingchuan was momentarily stunned.

He watched the youth step onto the stone steps, his pace even, climbing stair by stair until he vanished in the verdant veil at the end.

In the distant sky, beneath the vast blue, with mountains upon mountains, nothing could contain him.