Rakshasa froze from head to toe.
The shoulder Xu Changqing had patted still retained the warmth of his palm, yet that warmth now burned like a branding iron.
He stood rooted to the spot. Those eyes of his, usually half-lidded with a touch of laziness and chill, were now wide open, his pupils contracting slightly.
His lips moved several times, yet he could not utter a single word.
He had thought his disguise was flawless.
Rakshasa, sect master of the Nine Nether Sect, was decisive in slaughter and ruthless in his methods. No one had ever suspected the face beneath this mask.
Even Qin Baili himself had grown accustomed to the name "Rakshasa," accustomed to speaking, acting, and thinking through that identity.
As for the name Qin Baili, it was like a copper coin buried beneath the deep sea, rust-covered and long forgotten by all.
Yet now, Xu Changqing had called it out in one breath.
Not "Rakshasa," not "Sect Master Luo," but "Senior Brother Qin."
He had said it so naturally, so intimately, as though the gap of more than a hundred years had never existed.
"You..."
Qin Baili's Adam's apple bobbed once before he barely recovered his voice. "When did you find out?"
Xu Changqing withdrew his right hand before answering, "From the very first time we met, I felt an inexplicable familiarity."
Qin Baili frowned tightly. "The first time we met?"
"Mm."
Xu Changqing nodded slightly, his gaze carrying a trace of scrutiny. "You hid your aura very well, but some things cannot be concealed.
"Such as temperament, feeling, even that proud bearing.
"Back then, I only found it familiar and never considered that possibility.
"After all, everyone said Qin Baili had died in that explosion more than a hundred years ago."
He paused before continuing, "Later,