Black Magic Rose Chapter 36

Chapter 36 The Hunter and the Prey

Since the “lesson” in the hot spring—which almost revealed intentions but stopped abruptly—the air between the two of them felt as if it had been twisted by an invisible hand. Every inch was taut, emitting a hum that only they could hear. Wen Jingheng felt like a trapped beast, led by an invisible leash, the other end of which was firmly held in Shu Yijin’s hand. Shu Yijin maintained his usual lazy and casual demeanor, directing Wen Jingheng to gather resources, train, and reinforce their dwelling. His words carried his customary pickiness and nonchalance, but his crimson eyes were like the most precise probes, constantly measuring the subtle shifts in Wen Jingheng’s emotions and reactions.

Wen Jingheng tried to numb himself with more strenuous training, pouring his excess energy and the unspeakable restlessness into mastering his powers. The black-gold flames he condensed on the fungal mat grew increasingly stable and scorching, easily melting hard Energy Crystals. He attempted to manipulate the ground mycelium, making it wrap and stab like a living thing. Though far from Shu Yijin’s effortless control, it was beginning to take shape. Every increase in power brought a brief sense of control, but the moment he stopped, the feeling of being locked onto by an invisible gaze, the sense of being at a loss, surged back like a tide, even more violently than before.

Shu Yijin took in his efforts and anxiety but never pointed them out. He was like the most patient hunter, enjoying the futile struggles of his prey at the edge of the trap. He still drew close during instruction, his fingertips seemingly casually brushing Wen Jingheng’s wrist, shoulder, neck, or the center of his back. Each touch landed precisely on a critical node of energy flow or the most sensitive skin, carrying a slightly cool sensation and an undeniable guiding force. His breath brushed Wen Jingheng’s earlobe, and his long hair sometimes inadvertently swept across Wen Jingheng’s cheek. Every subtle contact was like a stone thrown into the lake of his heart, creating ripples.

Wen Jingheng’s sleep became very light. Sharing a bed had become a habit, and physical closeness was unavoidable. Shu Yijin’s sleeping posture grew increasingly “unruly.” Sometimes he would turn completely sideways and press against Wen Jingheng, an arm draped across his waist, a leg tangled with his—a posture of complete possession. Wen Jingheng lay awake in the dark, clearly hearing the steady breathing beside his ear, feeling the warm chest pressed against his back, and the rhythmic heartbeat. Shu Yijin’s cool fragrance, mixed with the slightly astringent scent of the spring water after bathing, enveloped him relentlessly, becoming a sweet form of torture. His body was stiff, afraid to move, fearing he might disturb this seemingly calm illusion, and also afraid… of exposing his own already chaotic inner turmoil.

That day, Shu Yijin decided to explore a more distant area, rumored to contain a “vein” that stably produced special Energy Crystal clusters. Wen Jingheng naturally followed. This journey was longer than any previous one, and the terrain was more complex, requiring frequent passage through unstable spatial folds and energy turbulence zones. Shu Yijin still walked ahead, his steps light, as if strolling through his own garden. However, when they encountered dangerous areas, he would subtly slow down, sometimes even reaching out to steady Wen Jingheng.

As Wen Jingheng was crossing a wide energy fissure with a distorted void below, the fungal rock he used to push off suddenly loosened and crumbled! His body tilted, instantly losing balance, and he began to fall into the fissure!

In a flash of lightning, an arm violently clamped around his waist, and a powerful force yanked him back, slamming him into a coolly fragrant embrace. Shu Yijin’s movements were so fast they were a blur; Wen Jingheng didn’t even see how he turned or exerted force. He was suddenly held tightly in Shu Yijin’s arms, his back pressed against his chest. They stood at the edge of the fissure, barely stable.

“Watch your step,” Shu Yijin’s voice sounded close to his ear, his breath slightly ragged, carrying a hint of imperceptible tension. The arm clamped around his waist was extremely tight, the force so great it felt like it might break his bones.

Wen Jingheng’s heart pounded wildly, half from the shock of the near-fall, and the other half from the overly intimate contact. Shu Yijin’s chest wasn’t broad, perhaps even a little slender, but pressed against it, Wen Jingheng could feel the power contained beneath, a stark contrast to his lazy exterior. Through the thin fabric, their body heat permeated each other. Shu Yijin’s heartbeat also quickened a few beats, heavily thudding against Wen Jingheng’s back.

“Tha… thank you,” Wen Jingheng’s voice was hoarse as he tried to break free from the suffocating embrace.

Shu Yijin didn’t immediately let go. He lowered his head, his nose almost brushing Wen Jingheng’s neck, and took a deep breath, as if confirming something. This action carried an almost animalistic intimacy and possessiveness that sent all the blood rushing to Wen Jingheng’s head.

“Scared?” Shu Yijin’s voice was low and husky, carrying a strange reassurance, yet also a deeper temptation. His lips grazed Wen Jingheng’s earlobe, leaving a faint, cool dampness.

Wen Jingheng’s body trembled, and he nearly collapsed in the embrace. All self-control crumbled in that moment. A strong impulse to turn and embrace the other person, to confirm their mutual existence, almost overwhelmed him. But he ultimately remained stiff, squeezing out a muffled syllable from his throat: “…No.”

Shu Yijin seemed to chuckle softly, finally slowly releasing his arm, but one hand slid down, grasping Wen Jingheng’s wrist. His fingertips lightly pressed against Wen Jingheng’s rapidly beating pulse, then he led him forward with an undeniable dominance. “Keep up.”

For the rest of the journey, Shu Yijin did not let go of his hand. His palm was slightly cool, his knuckles distinct, yet his grip was strong, carrying a forceful sense of taking the lead. Wen Jingheng tried to pull his hand back, only to be met with a tighter restraint. He could only follow passively, feeling the warmth and strength emanating from the other’s palm, and the sense of belonging, as if he had been branded. This feeling made him feel ashamed, yet secretly, a sense of security. As if in this perilous, unknown land, this hand was the only Energy Anchor Point.

They finally found the cluster vein. It was in a massive space, like a crystal cave, where countless colorful Energy Crystal clusters grew from the walls and floor, emitting soft yet powerful energy fluctuations. Shu Yijin released Wen Jingheng’s hand and began carefully selecting the highest quality clusters, his movements focused and elegant.

Wen Jingheng stood aside, watching Shu Yijin’s profile, which looked even more refined under the crystal light. His heart was a mix of emotions. He understood this person less and less. At times, he was cold as ice, deeply calculating; at other times, he showed an almost instinctive protectiveness and… this ambiguous closeness. Which one was the real him? Or was all of this merely a means of Subjugation?

On the way back, Shu Yijin seemed to be in a good mood, even humming an uncoordinated, strangely melodic yet pleasant tune. He still held Wen Jingheng’s hand, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The light of the setting sun (the energy curtain darkening again) stretched their shadows long, intertwining them, inseparable.

Night fell. The small dwelling was filled with the faint glow of the newly collected crystal clusters, a little brighter than the moss. Shu Yijin used the new clusters to improve the lighting and even wove a simple “rug” from purple mycelium that emitted a delicate fragrance, giving the humble space a touch of “home” warmth.

They shared dinner, a newly discovered tuber that tasted similar to poultry, which smelled delicious when roasted. Shu Yijin even concocted a simple drink using a certain sour but refreshing fruit juice. All of this gave Wen Jingheng the illusion that they were not survivors trapped on the brink of destruction, but rather on a… strange honeymoon trip.

After dinner, Wen Jingheng performed his usual energy circulation training. Perhaps due to the day’s fright and emotional fluctuations, his energy was particularly restless today, nearly going out of control several times. Shu Yijin sat nearby, not offering guidance as usual, but watching silently, his crimson eyes deep and unfathomable in the crystal light.

When Wen Jingheng once again suffered energy reversal in his meridians due to his distraction, letting out a muffled groan and clutching his chest, Shu Yijin finally moved.

He stood up, walked over to Wen Jingheng, and crouched down. He didn’t touch him, just quietly observed his slightly furrowed brow and pale complexion caused by the pain.

“What are you afraid of?” Shu Yijin suddenly asked, his voice calm and level, yet like a sharp blade, piercing the deepest part of Wen Jingheng’s heart.

Wen Jingheng abruptly looked up, meeting the red eyes that seemed to see through everything. Afraid? What was he afraid of? Afraid of this twisted relationship? Afraid of sinking into this gentle trap? Or afraid… that one day, Shu Yijin would discard him like a useless tool and push him back into the abyss?

“I’m not,” Wen Jingheng denied instantly, though his voice carried a subtle tremor.

Shu Yijin reached out, his fingertips gently brushing away the hair stuck to Wen Jingheng’s forehead with cold sweat. The movement was so soft it was almost affectionate, yet it made Wen Jingheng’s body stiffen.

“Liar.” Shu Yijin’s fingertips slowly slid down the contour of his cheek, stopping at his jawline, applying slight pressure to force him to look up and meet his gaze. “You fear me. You fear my closeness, you fear my touch, and even more… you fear your own response.”

His words were like poisoned honey, accurately shattering all of Wen Jingheng’s defenses. Wen Jingheng’s pupils contracted, and his breathing quickened. He wanted to refute, to push away this dangerous proximity, but his body felt as if it were under a paralysis spell, unable to move. Shu Yijin’s gaze was too penetrating, as if he had seen through him from the inside out.

“Wen Jingheng,” Shu Yijin’s voice deepened, carrying a demonic allure. “Admit it. You crave my touch, just as I crave… your Subjugation.”

The last word exploded in Wen Jingheng’s mind like thunder. Subjugation! So that was it! Everything made sense! Those hot-and-cold approaches, those seemingly caring actions, those ambiguous provocations—their ultimate goal was to “subjugate” him! To turn him, once a proud eagle, into a docile caged bird!

A mix of humiliation, anger, and the awkwardness of having his thoughts exposed rushed to his head. Fury instantly ignited in Wen Jingheng’s eyes, and his long-suppressed emotions finally erupted. He violently swatted Shu Yijin’s hand away, rising abruptly. He glared down at the other man, his voice hoarse with agitation: “Shu Yijin! What do you take me for? Your pet to be caged?! Using these… these methods to domesticate me?!”

Shu Yijin, pushed away, didn’t get angry. He slowly stood up, brushing off non-existent dust from his robes. He looked up at the agitated Wen Jingheng, whose eyes were red. Instead of anger, a hint of… pleasure flickered in his crimson eyes? As if Wen Jingheng’s outburst was precisely the reaction he had been waiting for.

“Pet?” Shu Yijin chuckled, stepping closer to Wen Jingheng until their noses were almost touching. He was slightly shorter than Wen Jingheng, but his presence completely overwhelmed the other man. “No, my dear accomplice, why would you think that?”

He reached out, and this time, instead of a gentle caress, his hand pressed down with an irresistible force onto Wen Jingheng’s left chest, directly over the Black Rose mark. Beneath his palm was Wen Jingheng’s wildly beating heart.

“I regard you as…” Shu Yijin’s fingertips pressed slightly harder, as if trying to reach through the flesh to touch that restless heart, “My most precious… accomplice, my… other half.”

His voice was soft, yet it carried a strange weight, crashing down on Wen Jingheng’s heart. Accomplice? Other half? What new rhetoric was this?

“You see,” Shu Yijin’s fingertips traced circles on Wen Jingheng’s chest, sending shivers through him. “We destroyed the old world together. We rely on each other in this ruin. Our powers intermingle, and our destinies are tightly bound. I am in you, and you are in me. Isn’t this a bond more profound and secure than any other relationship?”

His logic was twisted yet powerful, carrying the kind of reality-defying persuasiveness unique to an Evil God. Wen Jingheng was stunned by the implications of his words. Accomplice… other half… not master and servant, not utilization and being utilized, but… a twisted form of equality and symbiosis?

“As for ‘Subjugation’…” Shu Yijin’s lips curved into a seductive arc, his crimson eyes gleaming with the light of certainty. “I am merely helping you recognize your own heart and accept your truest desires. Suppression and resistance will only cause you pain and prevent you from truly becoming strong. Just as I told you in the hot spring, desire itself is power.”

His other hand lifted, gently caressing Wen Jingheng’s tense cheek, his fingertips rubbing against the hot skin. His voice was like the most tempting, fallen curse: “Admit that you need me, Wen Jingheng. Just as I… need you. There is no shame in that. In this Eternal Void, we only have each other.”

He needed him… Wen Jingheng’s rationality screamed that this was a trap, a lie, but his emotions were like a wild horse, galloping toward the direction Shu Yijin pointed. Yes, he needed it. He needed this companionship, this seemingly illusory warmth, he needed this powerful and mysterious existence to fill the vast void in his heart created by betrayal and destruction. He even… craved that closeness tinged with the aura of destruction.

Seeing the struggle in Wen Jingheng’s eyes weaken, replaced by a confused, almost resigned vulnerability, Shu Yijin knew the time was right. He no longer hesitated, rising onto his toes and kissing Wen Jingheng’s lips, which were slightly parted in astonishment.

The kiss was not gentle; it was aggressive, a dominant declaration of ownership. Coldness and heat intertwined, breath mingled. Shu Yijin’s technique was masterful, easily prying open Wen Jingheng’s teeth, delving deep, tangling and sucking with an undeniable force, as if intending to devour the other’s soul entirely.

Wen Jingheng’s mind went blank. All thought, all struggle, vanished in that moment. He could only passively endure the kiss, feeling the shiver brought by the other’s lips and tongue, a sensation both strange and familiar. His body reacted before his will; he reached out, not to push away, but to fiercely wrap his arms around Shu Yijin’s slender yet strong waist, pressing the other closer to himself. He almost savagely took the initiative, deepening the kiss.

It was a chaotic kiss, full of plunder and surrender. It was the eruption of long-suppressed desire, a frantic way to confirm their mutual existence, and the only solace and resonance two lonely souls could find in this desperate situation.

When the long, intense kiss finally ended, both were breathless. Shu Yijin’s lips were kissed red, and the corners of his eyes were tinged with pink, his crimson eyes shimmering with a breathtaking allure. He panted slightly, looking at Wen Jingheng with undisguised triumph and satisfaction.

“See, you don’t hate it, do you?” His voice was husky from the kissing, adding to the temptation.

Wen Jingheng did not reply, only gazing deeply at him, his emotions surging, finally settling into a complex, almost resigned depth. He lowered his head again and kissed him, this time no longer passively enduring, but with a clear, burning desire.

The crystal light flickered, illuminating their entangled figures. The boundary between the hunter and the prey blurred in that moment. Perhaps, from the very first meeting, this was destined to be a mutual dance of attraction and consumption. And on this boundary line between destruction and rebirth, desire became the most primitive and truest language.

The night was still long.