Chapter Sixty-Eight: The Immortal of Peach Blossoms Competes for a Disciple

"Well now, who is this young master?"
Gu Qingcheng's gaze suddenly shifted onto me.
He twirled his peach blossom fan in his hand, smiling as he approached, circling both Zilian and me once before unexpectedly stopping at my side.
"Not bad, not bad."
He tapped his folding fan lightly, patting it gently in his palm. His eyes fixed on me, a hint of appraisal flickering within them, as he examined me thoroughly from head to toe, leaving nothing unnoticed.
I stood rigid, clutching Zilian's sleeve with both hands, utterly tense within.
That probing gaze was truly unbearable for a little demon fish like me. I couldn't help but worry—had I inadvertently let slip a trace of my demonic aura, only for this carefree immortal to catch a whiff of it?
Just as my nerves threatened to snap, convinced I had been discovered, Gu Qingcheng suddenly flicked open his peach blossom fan with a flourish, turning his smiling gaze to Zilian. "Three thousand years without seeing you—and now, tell me, where did this child at your side come from?"
"From the mortal realm."
True to his habit of wasting no words, Zilian offered Gu Qingcheng only these four syllables.
"From the mortal realm?"
The smile on Gu Qingcheng's face grew even brighter at this reply. He teased, "Don't tell me this child is your illegitimate son with Mo Meili?"

Illegitimate son? The sudden word startled me so much that I nearly jumped. Had Zilian and Mo Meili ever had a child together? That seemed highly unlikely!
From what I knew, the former Demon Lord, Mo Meili, seemed to harbor a special kind of hatred toward Zilian—an enmity so deep it was almost carved into her bones. Although they had once loved each other, rumor had it among the demonfolk that Zilian, for the safety of the six realms, had come to the demon realm to steal the clan's treasured artifact—the Moonstring Zither. At the time, Mo Meili realized Zilian's affection was merely a ploy for that wretched instrument, and was so furious and heartbroken that she wept bitterly, vowing never to relinquish the Moonstring Zither.
The two of them then fought in Zhuliumo for three days and three nights. Those few demon soldiers lucky enough to return from the battlefield recounted that day as one of utter chaos—darkened skies, sun and moon obscured, winds howling, sand flying, and deadly slaughter that terrified countless immortals and demons alike.
That day, Mo Meili was filled with nothing but disappointment toward Zilian, and Zilian, for her part, was equally merciless.
Judging by all this, Zilian and Mo Meili's relationship could hardly be as intimate as Gu Qingcheng suggested—they were most unlikely to have a child together.
"And if he is an illegitimate son, so what? And if he is not, so what?"
Zilian, far from angry, chuckled lightly. "Is the Peach Blossom Immortal asking because you envy me for having a child before you do?"
Gu Qingcheng's face flushed red, then turned pale, then green—changing colors like a stormy sky. Scowling, he fixed his gaze on me and strode forward.
"Zilian Immortal's son is quite pleasing to the eye—very much to my taste. Let me say this: in over twenty thousand years, I have never taken a disciple, but today, upon seeing your son, my heart is simply delighted."
With that, Gu Qingcheng stepped closer, seized my hand, and his peach blossom eyes narrowed in a smile. "I wish to take Zilian Immortal's son as my disciple. Zilian Immortal, will you permit it?"
As he spoke, he gave my hand a sharp squeeze, making me wince in pain.
Judging by his gritted teeth and the way he seemed just about ready to pounce on Zilian, it was clear his desire to take me as a disciple was merely pretense—what he really wanted was to torment me as a way to get back at Zilian.

"Master..."
I hung my head, not daring to look at Zilian, and pleaded softly.
"Oh my, how obedient—truly a good disciple for this immortal!"
Zilian ignored me, but Gu Qingcheng was delighted. His grip on my hand relaxed a little, and he laughed, "Zilian Immortal, your son can't wait to call me Master. Be generous and agree, won't you?"
He turned to scrutinize me again, grinning from ear to ear.
"Agree?"
Zilian raised his brows in mild confusion, as if he had heard nothing at all, and asked, "What is it the Peach Blossom Immortal wants me to agree to?"