CHAPTER 61

Wicked Thoughts

RUAN YANJUN

I sighed as I watched Luo Fan sleep, his face pale but peaceful in the dim light of the room. After giving him the pill earlier, he had collapsed, leaving me no choice but to carry him into this inn.

Of course, I had carried him like a princess. Heads had turned as I strode across the crowded street, his slender frame cradled in my arms. Some onlookers whispered, while others simply stared, but I didn’t care. If anything, I was proud to show off the beauty resting against my chest, even if he was unconscious and completely unaware of the attention.

Luo Fan’s stubbornness had been the bane of my existence lately. Despite all my efforts to help him embrace his dark core, he refused to yield. I had tried gentle persuasion, urging him to meditate and find balance between his opposing cores, but he brushed me off each time. Then, I tried the harsher methods. I pushed him, sparred with him, even struck him hard enough that he should have been forced to call upon the dark energy to shield himself. Instead, he chose to endure the blows with that infuriating resolve of his.

And now, his resistance had taken its toll. The conflict within him—the light core suppressing the dark—had thrown his qi into chaos. He was weakening, his body faltering under the strain. I had warned him, repeatedly, that rejecting the dark core entirely would lead to disaster. He didn’t listen.

Time was running out. If he continued down this path, it wasn’t just his cultivation at stake—it was his life.

I leaned back against the headboard, running a hand through my hair. As if that weren’t enough, I had my own problems to deal with. The Ancient Demonic Core that had been implanted in me over a century ago was becoming restless. It pushed against the boundaries of its containment, its power growing with each passing day. I could feel it clawing at my sanity, whispering promises of ultimate power if I let it free.

But managing that monstrosity had taken a back seat. I had chosen instead to focus on this infuriatingly stubborn man, pouring my energy into him when I should have been safeguarding myself.

A soft sound broke through my thoughts. Luo Fan stirred, a faint sigh escaping his lips as he slowly blinked awake. Relief swept through me like a tide, though I masked it behind a calm demeanor.

“Good evening,” I said, my voice low and steady.

His gaze locked onto mine, surprise flickering across his features as he noticed me sitting on the bed beside him. For a brief moment, he froze, but then he recovered, quickly pulling himself up into a sitting position.

“Is it evening already?” he asked, his voice soft but hoarse from disuse.

“Midnight,” I replied.

He frowned slightly. “I’ve slept for so long.”

I nodded. “Mm.”

He looked away, avoiding my stare.

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

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He shook his head. “It’s too late for dinner. I don’t want to bother the staff here for that. I can wait until morning.”

I suppressed a smirk, but inwardly. Always considerate, always thinking of others before himself. Once, I had found that trait of his infuriating, but now I was beginning to see it as a part of who he was—one I could no longer begrudge.

“A-Fan,” I began cautiously, my tone steady. Perhaps this time, a genuine conversation could break through his resolve. “I know that you’re aware of what’s happening to your body. You’re dying.”

He didn’t reply, but his silence confirmed the truth. He knew it. He had known it for some time.

“I told you before that I implanted the dark core in you to test a theory,” I continued, my tone softening. “But it wasn’t a whim. I didn’t make that decision lightly. I spent months researching and agonizing over it. I studied every case I could find, every fragment of knowledge about merging opposing cores, especially in someone as unique as you—someone with a fragile light core.”

His gaze shifted slightly, but he remained quiet. I pressed on, determined to make him understand.

“I read about a third-level alchemist who accidentally ingested a destructive drug he’d been experimenting on. To save himself, he sought out a master to implant a dark core. He believed that by strengthening the dark core, he could use its energy to expel the poison. The principle was simple: fight darkness with light, and light with darkness. He called it ‘Internal Medicine.’” I paused, watching for a reaction.

“And it worked,” I continued. “The alchemist recovered and later became a grandmaster, celebrated for his achievements.”

His fingers twitched slightly, the only sign that my words were reaching him.

“That’s what I’m trying to do for you,” I said, leaning forward. “The White Vulture is a destructive drug, its essence rooted in light energy. Your dark core has the potential to neutralize it, to save you. But you… you fight it at every turn, as if you want to die. Is that what you want?”

Luo Fan shook his head, the movement small but resolute.

“Then why won’t you cooperate?” I pressed. “Is it the pain?”

“I can endure the pain,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But not the wicked thoughts that come with it.”

“Wicked thoughts?” I arched a brow, deciding to tease him despite the gravity of the conversation. “Are they about… copulation? Did you picture you and me tangled in bed, naked and intimately joined?”

“Lord Ruan!” he sputtered, his face turning a furious shade of red as he glared at me.

I couldn’t help but laugh. His reaction was so pure, so utterly him. Even now, he had a way of amusing me, of making me forget my own struggles. “Why fear those thoughts?” I asked, my voice softening. “They’re normal. Even the gods think of such things.”

“It’s not just that,” he said, his tone serious again. “There are thoughts… more wicked than that.”

“Like murder?” I guessed.

He nodded hesitantly.

“Have you ever thought about murdering me?” I asked, half in jest, though a part of me truly wanted to know.

“No!” he shot back, almost too quickly. “Why would I think about murdering you?”

I smiled, unable to hide my relief. “Good,” I said. “Then you don’t hate me as much as I thought.”

“Lord Ruan,” he began, his voice steady, “there are many things about you that irritate me, but not enough to harbor thoughts of murder.”

I nodded, finding no reason to doubt the sincerity in his words. “I believe you,” I said calmly. “But does it frighten you, these wicked thoughts you’ve mentioned?”

“It does,” he admitted, his voice softening. “It’s like there’s a voice inside me, whispering to act on those dark urges. I’m terrified I’ll lose control again, like I did earlier with that man.”

I sighed, finally understanding the root of his turmoil. “A-Fan, those are just thoughts. The dark core stirs them, yes, but they have no power unless you let them. As long as your mind and heart are strong, you can suppress them. You have no reason to fear.”

His hands tightened on the sheet draped over his lap. “I can’t stop the fear,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “I’ve tried.”

I studied him, my gaze lingering as memories of the last two years came rushing back—his master’s betrayal that destroyed his cultivation, followed by the tragic death of his betrothed. Each event had stripped away a piece of his strength, leaving him emotionally shattered and mentally fragile. No wonder he struggled to find balance.

I nodded slowly, my voice softening. “Rest now. Sleep will help.”

He hesitated before lying back down, his face still shadowed with doubt. As he closed his eyes, I remained by his side, lost in thought. Fixing this broken man would require more than words—I would need to help him mend his shattered heart.

My hands clenched tightly around the fabric of my robe as jealousy once again gnawed at me. How much longer would he mourn that plain, disgraced woman? How much longer until he saw what was right in front of him?