IC 03

Chapter 03

Cang Xing lifted his chin slightly as if he had thought of something. A faint glimmer flashed in his eyes, making his sharp, knife-carved face look even more striking.

At that moment, a figure suddenly swept in from the horizon.

Compared to the sky-covering Kunpeng and the blazing fire phoenix, this person looked as insignificant as a speck of dust, so small that Cang Xing, Mu Chen, and Li Che did not even notice him at first.

Then, a distant exclamation rang out.

“The junior uncle from the Heavenly Realm is here too!”

The newcomer moved as lightly as a swallow, landing alone inside the fog forest. Quiet, unassuming.

Mu Chen recognized Jing Qiu’s identity and raised an eyebrow, glancing at Li Che with an expression of watching a show.

Cang Xing’s face remained cold, killing intent obvious. Even the demon elders beside him felt a chill in their hearts—if their young master truly went on a massacre, and these factions joined forces, even they might not escape unscathed. Not to mention Jing Qiu and Li Che were from related factions; even if they fought internally, they would likely unite against outsiders.

Li Che showed clear disgust and stepped forward instantly, blocking Jing Qiu’s path.

At that moment, a disturbing buzzing sound spread through the fog forest.

Black insects—like bees but entirely pitch-black, emitting an unsettling sheen—swarmed toward all living beings in every direction.

At the same time, a rustling hiss echoed from the ground.

Dense flower-ring snakes slithered forward.

Li Che frowned. His guards immediately struck out with spells, cutting the snakes apart. But the splashing venom corroded clothes and flesh on contact, leaving horrifying wounds that could even rot bone.

Screams echoed everywhere.

Jing Qiu moved through the sea of poisonous insects with his sword in hand. Sword light flashed sharply, slicing insects apart, yet not a single drop of blood or corpse touched his robes.

“As expected of the disciple of the Heavenly Realm ancestor. His cultivation is indeed remarkable,” Mu Chen said lightly, twirling a sachet string between his fingers.

He did not take Jing Qiu seriously; he only praised him in a way that would provoke Li Che.

“Just two minor realms below His Highness,” Shao An sneered.

“But he’s ten years younger,” Mu Chen replied. “Given another ten years, who knows who would be stronger.”

At that, Li Che raised his hand.

A surge of spiritual power erupted, crushing the incoming insects. The snakes were also forced back into the fog.

Jing Qiu remained calm under Li Che’s cold gaze.

Just as he was about to return to the Kunpeng, he suddenly paused.

Ahead, within swirling mist, a tall figure slowly walked out.

Step by step, stepping on gravel, clothing rustling softly as he approached.

A man in white.

White robes like snow, untouched by dust. A face so flawless it seemed beyond mortal comprehension, as if nature itself had shaped it.

Just like back then.

Jing Qiu’s vision blurred for a moment. Even breathing around him seemed to quiet down.

Li Che froze as well.

The powerful cultivators who had been searching from above all descended at once, crowding in front of the figure, trying to catch his attention. Jing Qiu was pushed toward the edge and had to stand beside the guards.

From that angle, he could only see Qiran’s profile—his straight nose bridge, gentle yet perfect facial lines.

Three years had passed, yet the almost divine figure had not changed at all.

Qiran’s gaze swept across the crowd.

Then he stopped at the edge, where Jing Qiu stood among armored guards.

From this angle, Jing Qiu stood out strangely—too handsome, too striking among the plain attendants.

Qiran’s expression softened. Under everyone’s gaze, he walked toward the edge of the crowd.

Li Che, Cang Xing, Mu Chen—all of them followed his movement with their eyes.

He stopped in front of one person.

Jing Qiu.

For a moment, the surrounding people all had the same thought:

Scheming.

Jing Qiu’s breathing slowed involuntarily. His body stiffened under the tension.

Maybe… Qiran was just passing by?

Then Qiran stopped right in front of him.

Those beautiful eyes reflected his face.

Qiran blinked.

Jing Qiu looked straight at him, fingers clenched tightly inside his sleeves. His mind went blank.

Before he could say anything—

Qiran suddenly reached out and hugged him, arms wrapping around his neck.

“I remember you. The one who kissed me.”

In an instant, countless sharp gazes shot over like knives.

Jing Qiu froze completely.

The scent of peach blossoms drifted faintly into his nose. Qiran’s sleeve brushed against his neck. Warm breath lingered near his ear.

At the word “kiss,” Cang Xing’s expression darkened instantly. Killing intent surged out as he stared at Jing Qiu.

Mu Chen’s smile disappeared completely.

Even Li Che’s face turned ice-cold.

At that moment, Jing Qiu could think of nothing at all.

He was still being held.

Then Qiran leaned in again and kissed his cheek lightly.

“Greeting.”