Chapter 230: Eye Contact—This Man Is Dangerous
Surrounding the palanquin stood a group of young men, all dressed in fitted white short robes. They were likely disciples of Mo Ran Hall. Every one of them wore an expressionless—rather, stern—face that kept others at a distance.
The eight-bearer palanquin at the center was covered with a white silk canopy. At its peak hung an enormous luminous pearl, shimmering with flowing light. Each of the four corners was set with a ruby, from which long tassels cascaded down—extravagant beyond measure. A layer of white gauze served as the front curtain, obscuring the view inside while still allowing a faint, shadowy silhouette to be seen from outside.
White truly was the color of choice for people who loved to put on airs.
And this Grand Preceptor was like a little fox spirit—letting you glimpse a shadow, yet refusing to reveal his true face, only stoking curiosity all the more.
As the procession drew closer, the surrounding people bent even lower, heads bowed deeply, faces filled with reverence.
Nan Xun clicked her tongue inwardly. Even when the emperor of Southern Yun went out on parade, it probably wouldn’t look much different.
This eight-bearer palanquin was extravagance taken to an absurd level. In the other three kingdoms, only the ruler of a nation was qualified to ride in such a palanquin. Anyone else who dared do so would be guilty of a crime punishable by the extermination of nine clans!
Yet this Grand Preceptor’s display clearly rivaled that of Southern Yun’s monarch—and judging by the people’s reactions, they found it perfectly normal.
A gust of wind lifted the white gauze curtain.
Nan Xun’s eyes widened instantly as she peered through the gap.
She saw the man’s thin, rosy lips.
They were lightly pressed into a straight line, utterly devoid of warmth—whether that came from a detached indifference to the world or a cold disdain for everyone else was hard to tell.
It was only a fleeting glance, but Nan Xun could already imagine how peerlessly elegant this man must be.
This Grand Preceptor didn’t seem old at all—on the contrary, he appeared quite young.
“Little Eight, how old is the Grand Preceptor?” Nan Xun asked.
Little Eight let out a mysterious chuckle. “That… I won’t tell you for now. Afraid it might scare you.”
Nan Xun: “……”
If Little Eight refused to say, there were only two possibilities: either the Grand Preceptor was unbelievably young—or unbelievably old.
Nan Xun decisively decided it was better not to know for now.
The ostentatious procession slowly reached her position.
At that moment, the silhouette behind the white gauze seemed to shift slightly, and the entire procession gradually slowed.
Whether it was an illusion or not, Nan Xun felt that the figure inside turned his head toward her—and lingered there for quite a while.
She instinctively glanced around but didn’t spot anyone unusual. Could it be that the Grand Preceptor could sense her peeking even through the curtain?
“Little Eight,” Nan Xun asked quickly, “is the Grand Preceptor looking at me?”
Little Eight replied, “I’ll lend you my Spirit Eyes. See for yourself.”
Nan Xun: “……”
In the next instant, her five senses magnified explosively. Breathing and footsteps rang clearly in her ears; a jumble of smells flooded her nose—especially the scent of men’s sweat, nearly overwhelming her.
She peered through the gaps between people toward the palanquin.
This time, she clearly sensed a gaze fixed on her from inside. Even separated by a layer of gauze, she felt an eerie aura radiating from that silhouette.
She was certain now—the eyes that had just been watching were locked onto her.
A chill ran through Nan Xun. Was this man covered head to toe in eyes or something? She’d hidden herself so well—how had he noticed her?
To confirm the feeling, Nan Xun slowly raised her gaze again toward the curtain.
With her senses amplified severalfold, even without seeing through the gauze, she could accurately capture the position of those eyes by instinct alone.
As she lifted her head, her gaze collided squarely with the calm, rippleless eyes behind the curtain.
In that split second, sparks flew like lightning striking flint.
Almost immediately, Nan Xun reached a conclusion:
This man—was dangerous.
She quickly withdrew her gaze, swallowing hard.
Slowly, the person inside the palanquin also withdrew his sight. The silhouette didn’t move again, like a statue enshrined for worship—dead still.
Another gust of wind lifted the curtain at a corner, and those thin, rosy lips inadvertently appeared in Nan Xun’s view once more.
She caught the faint upward curve at the corner of his mouth—subtle, yet ghostly, sending a chill down her spine.
Even after the procession had gone far away, Nan Xun still felt uneasy.
Little Eight took back its Spirit Eyes and chuckled. “So? Felt it, huh? Isn’t the Grand Preceptor handsome enough to split the heavens?”
Nan Xun: “……”
“My senses were just amplified—I didn’t get x-ray vision. How would I know if he’s ‘handsome enough to split the heavens’? But I can feel that there’s something extremely eerie about him… I even seemed to smell a kind of… death.”
Little Eight didn’t comment. It slightly regretted lending Nan Xun its enhanced senses. Some things were better left unknown—at least for now.
Nan Xun didn’t pursue the topic further, which made Little Eight quietly sigh in relief.
It had nearly been discovered.
Her attention shifted to something else as she asked curiously, “Little Eight, isn’t Southern Yun strange? The Grand Preceptor’s procession rivals the emperor’s—no, it outright surpasses it. Doesn’t the ruler feel uncomfortable about this? Isn’t he afraid the Grand Preceptor might seize the throne? If it were me, I’d be on guard. There’s no way I’d let such power keep expanding unchecked.”
Her eyes remained fixed on the direction where the palanquin had disappeared, questions piling up in her mind.
Which royal family didn’t have internal strife? With so many princes and princesses, did they really not mind a Grand Preceptor who overshadowed them all?
Not only the Grand Preceptor—his Mo Ran Hall disciples also enjoyed extraordinarily high status. To the people, the name “Mo Ran Hall” inspired even more awe than the names of royal heirs.
Seeing Nan Xun actually using her brain for once, Little Eight felt deeply gratified and took the initiative to explain.
“Mo Ran Hall in Southern Yun is a very special existence. It was founded by him, and its disciples inherit his true teachings. Every one of them can use witchcraft and gu arts. Though their power is strange and formidable, they will never harbor disloyal thoughts toward the royal family. That’s why every generation of rulers shows the utmost respect to Grand Preceptor Gong Mo Ran.”
Nan Xun’s eyes widened. “Wait—every generation of rulers? How many kings has this Grand Preceptor served?”
Little Eight: “……”
Damn it—slipped up again.
