/

Ch84 - Shame and Shyness




The Discipline Hall was desolate and quiet.
Su Hansheng sat in a chair, taking out a palm-sized small dagger from his pouch. He furrowed his brow, moving it back and forth over his wrist.
Ying Zhijin, smoking nearby, glanced sideways and smiled, asking: “What are you doing?”
“Those people controlling the Silver-Carved Lamp wanted to use sacred object blood to make lamp oil for her,” Su Hansheng casually said, placing his teacup under his wrist: “Could she be unconscious because she ran out of lamp oil? I thought I’d try bleeding a bit.”
Ying Zhijin’s jade-like long smoking pipe tapped lightly against Su Hansheng’s wrist. The dagger in his hand fell unexpectedly to the table with a clang.
“It’s not sacred object blood,” Ying Zhijin said indifferently. “Only the Falling Abyss Dragon’s blood works as lamp oil.”
Su Hansheng rubbed his wrist in pain, confused: “Why?”
Ying Zhijin refilled her smoking pipe with tobacco, speaking carelessly: “Just like how you can suppress the Falling Abyss Dragon’s transformation, the Silver-Carved Lamp’s oil can only use dragon blood. Even if you bled yourself dry, it wouldn’t help her.”
Su Hansheng hadn’t noticed this detail before: “How does Senior Sister know?”
Ying Zhijin, unbothered, exhaled smoke: “You think I run Yingxu Sect just selling random things? Foolish boy—intelligence and secrets of the entire three realms are what’s truly valuable.”
Su Hansheng lacked any business acumen and only half-understood.
Not long after, Zhou Gusha appeared outside the Discipline Hall with a frown, visibly displeased. She kicked her skirt as she stepped through the threshold.
Su Hansheng rose to greet her when his gaze fell on Gong Fuqu trailing behind, sleeves rolled up, covered in dust and dirt. He froze immediately.
Why had she followed?
Gong Handan had spent one day watching Gong Fuqu at Wendao Academy without revealing herself. There must be hesitation and fear in her heart.
Su Hansheng didn’t want to interfere like those scoundrels of the Gong family branch, making important decisions for Gong Handan. Yet selfishly, he still hoped she’d find protective family, not ending up alone and searching for safety in that “nightmare place.”
Su Hansheng was still conflicted when Zhou Gusha walked to his side, raised her foot, and kicked his shin, displeased: “Su Xiaoxiao, you explain to Fuqu. I didn’t cause trouble—I really came to treat someone.”
Su Hansheng almost jumped up, vaguely remembering from childhood being kicked and yelling by a little girl with buns in her hair.
“Oh.” Zhou Gusha had cured him of poison before, and now he was asking for her help again. Su Hansheng obediently nodded and told Gong Fuqu: “I asked the Little Medical Immortal to come treat… a sister.”
Gong Fuqu had just finished sparring with a group of sword cultivators on the martial grounds, her hunting outfit covered in dust and grime. She hadn’t had time to change.
Hearing Su Hansheng’s explanation, she looked around and didn’t see the chief enforcer. Realizing she’d misunderstood, she gave an awkward cough and absently tidied her disheveled hair, speaking warmly: “Gusha, my apologies—I was overthinking. Go quickly and treat sister.”
Zhou Gusha, carrying her small medicine box, rushed urgently into the inner chamber with Ying Zhijin to begin treatment.
Gong Fuqu had a suppressed wildness in her nature, yet outwardly remained gentle and graceful. Wearing the Medical Pavilion’s robes, she appeared like a divine goddess from the ninth heaven. Though often followed and bullied, she always suppressed her nature and refused to strike back.
Now she wore her hunting outfit, sleeves rolled up to her elbows revealing only half her forearm. The ponytail she’d tied high for fighting convenience had come loose, making her appearance quite unkempt.
Gong Fuqu quickly tidied her long hair and gave Su Hansheng an awkward smile.
Su Hansheng was still contemplating Gong Handan’s situation. He bit the knuckle of his index finger for a long moment before finally resolving himself, carefully probing: “Senior Sister Gong, are you an only child?”
Gong Fuqu rolled down her sleeves, smoothing the creases, and shook her head gently at his question: “No, I have an older sister.”
“An older sister?”
“Mm.” Gong Fuqu smiled slightly, biting her lips: “Though I’ve never met her. But my parents say she’s my twin sister, and until now… her whereabouts remain unknown.”
Su Hansheng asked: “Have you all ever tried searching for her?”
Gong Fuqu nodded: “Of course. But over the years, no matter how many clues we’ve followed, everyone we’ve sent to search has perished—not even a trace of their souls remained. It’s quite strange.”
Su Hansheng seemed to understand something.
No wonder in the secret realm, the Silver-Carved Lamp had extracted the souls of everyone who’d seen her face to refine lamp oil.
She was afraid of her whereabouts being revealed.
Gong Fuqu didn’t elaborate further, smiling as she asked: “Young Lord, why the sudden interest in this?”
Su Hansheng didn’t know whether he should make this decision for Gong Handan. After hesitating, he shook his head: “It’s nothing. Just curious.”
Gong Fuqu made an “oh” sound. She’d worked up a sweat sparring with the sword cultivators and now felt sticky and uncomfortable. Since Zhou Gusha hadn’t caused trouble, she didn’t linger. Rising, she said: “Young Lord, I’ll take my leave now.”
Just as she was turning to go, Su Hansheng suddenly stood: “Wait…”
Gong Fuqu looked back confused: “Young Lord?”
Su Hansheng was racking his brains trying to find a way to keep her when suddenly a deafening spiritual power explosion erupted from the inner chamber, warping the outer hall’s screens.
Both Gong Fuqu and Su Hansheng froze.
Zhou Gusha’s voice came: “Fuqu! Hurry!”
Gong Fuqu didn’t hesitate. She immediately pushed aside the curtain and rushed in, Su Hansheng following close behind.
Ying Zhijin stood nearby, her brow deeply furrowed, protective barriers wrapping tightly around her body. Her smoking pipe in hand had been severed cleanly in half, the cut edges bearing charred black marks.
The bed in the inner chamber had been reduced to powder. Gong Handan, who should have been critically injured and unconscious, had somehow awakened. She floated in midair, surrounded by flames that cast an orange glow around her body like fire itself. Her bare feet hovered above the ground, and the ill-fitting Wendao Academy robes were scorched black by the heat.
Zhou Gusha’s face was ice-cold, her eyes flashing with urgency: “Fuqu, restrain her quickly. Don’t let her recklessly expend spiritual power. Her injuries haven’t healed yet. Any more movement could be fatal.”
SOyq nDUD ImNtJz gLNyXLe Nm mCJ RJtIOy ALONmfyq fy ofzNft EfmC DyAOhDIJz JeJI, AJJLfyq Ny fyJPRLfhNgLe ANofLfNt IJyINmfOy NgODm CJt, eJm CNFfyq yO oJoOte OA JFJt oJJmfyq CJt.
ywgCfOx onMd SdTng’T bMCtT, Tnw Ndfkvrj kgJw PM nwC TwOTwT gOt CgfTwt nwC ngOt PM fOPwCZwOw.
Zk sGwtaIwV MkQvBSN GtBIH: “qaGE GiJkE hI?”
“TDIm XJJR eODtIJLA NLfFJ,” KCOD SDICN INfz. “bOy’m qJm fy mCJ ENe.”
Zk sGwtaIwV: “…”
sm nODyzNmfOy aImNgLfICoJym ImNqJ, CJ CNz yO gDIfyJII ImJRRfyq AOtENtz. YD dNyICJyq tJLDhmNymLe tJmtJNmJz mO ImNyz yJNt jfyq KCflfy mO mNXJ ICJLmJt.
DQwV WaQjQw aGH vbQrrSIH aIb JLw vkSEQAGEQJw LaIw taI’H HIYIvEIH YbJh DQwVgk ZIvE NIGbt GVJ. OAIw GYEIb vkSEQAGEQwV HIhJwQv GbEt, taI’H JwSN bIGvaIH cJSHIw KJbI tEGVI—EaJkVa cJSHIw KJbI SQYItrGw LGt tkYYQvQIwE. ZaI vbJttIH aIb Gbht, wJE YJJSQtaSN tEIrrQwV YJbLGbH, hIbISN aJSHQwV aIb ibJBIw thJBQwV rQrI, aIb ibJL YkbbJLIH Qw bGbI vJwvIbw.
“She still needs dragon blood.”
Gong Fuqu, unaware of the situation, was desperately trying to restrain Gong Handan.
But the unconscious Silver-Carved Lamp was far beyond what an Nascent Soul stage cultivator could easily control. The moment spiritual power turned into restraining cords and touched Gong Handan’s body, they were instantly incinerated by the flames.
Zhou Gusha’s silver needles gleamed coldly as she attempted to strike Gong Handan’s meridian points, but couldn’t get close no matter how hard she tried.
Gong Handan was recklessly draining her spiritual power. After just a few moments, even the last drops of lamp oil within the Silver-Carved Lamp seemed to be disappearing. The faint flame at her core was slowly extinguishing.
Sacred objects of Heaven’s Dao do not perish easily.
The Silver-Carved Lamp’s desperate need for lamp oil seized complete control of this body. Eyes that had been lifeless suddenly flared with a final light, and the hand adorned with a silver bracelet suddenly ignited with flames, reaching toward Gong Fuqu—the closest person nearby—with icy intent.
If even one person’s soul transformed into lamp oil, it could briefly sustain the Silver-Carved Lamp’s flame.
Gong Handan had already reached Spirit Transformation Great Perfection. As she struck out, Gong Fuqu at Nascent Soul stage felt her pupils suddenly scatter, her entire body rigid and unable to move, her eyes wide open as that beautiful hand reached toward her brow.
Su Hansheng was startled. He immediately formed hand seals, his finger-carvings suddenly floating in midair, whistling as they rushed toward Gong Handan’s hand.
At the critical moment, Gong Handan sensed the fierce talismans approaching. Without blinking, she lightly swatted to the side.
The talismans suddenly transformed into fierce winds that scraped several bleeding wounds across her beautiful hand.
Su Hansheng shouted: “Run!”
Gong Fuqu finally broke free from the suppression, staggering backward half a step.
At the same time, Zhou Gusha rushed forward, grabbed Gong Fuqu, and shoved her away.
Gong Handan hovered in midair, delicate chains adorning her ankles and wrists, tinkling softly with her every slight movement.
She stared straight at Gong Fuqu. Despite Zhou Gusha now standing before her, driving healing silver needles into her meridians, Gong Handan paid no attention whatsoever, continuing to reach toward Gong Fuqu.
Though Gong Fuqu sometimes had a slightly bloodthirsty nature, she was nonetheless disciplined. She only ever fought in secret realms, during trials, or on the martial training grounds. At all other times, she was as gentle as a well-bred young lady from a noble family.
Now, nearly killed, she felt no desire to resist. She simply watched the figure before her step back again and again.
Ying Zhijin had nearly snapped her smoking pipe in half, but suddenly seemed to notice something. She relaxed immediately, raising her hand to stop Su Hansheng from charging forward: “Don’t move recklessly.”
Su Hansheng: “But…”
Zhou Gusha’s silver needles appeared extraordinarily effective against Gong Handan. The ashen pallor drained from her face, and her jade-like features drifted closer to Gong Fuqu’s side, her eyes unblinking as she gazed at her.
Gong Fuqu had stopped fleeing, frozen in place as she looked up blankly at Gong Handan hovering above her.
This face… strange yet familiar.
Though they were twins, they didn’t look identical like Zhuang Lingge and Zhuang Lingxiu. Standing so close, they could barely discern that only those eyes seemed similar among their features.
Yet one pair was warm and gentle, while the other was icy and indifferent.
Gong Handan’s consciousness had returned to clarity. Her toes barely touched the ground as she floated down, tilting her head slightly.
Gong Fuqu met her gaze in confusion.
After a long moment, Gong Handan suddenly asked: “Why are you crying?”
She seemed to have gathered all her courage just to speak those words, her voice trembling faintly beneath the surface.
Gong Fuqu froze. Only then did she realize she had somehow shed tears.
She quickly wiped her face, feeling embarrassed and ashamed: “I’m not.”
Having spoken only those three words, Gong Handan seemed to have exhausted all her courage. She watched silently as Gong Fuqu stepped back, trying to distance herself. Gong Handan instinctively tried to raise her hand.
But her fingers moved without following through.
Gong Fuqu, her nerves still frayed, understood that despite Gong Handan not moving again, that earlier pressure had made clear she’d nearly been killed by this person. She quickly retreated from the inner chamber with her head lowered.
Gong Handan watched her back disappear before nearly dimly lowering her eyes.
Ying Zhijin furrowed her brows.
Just as she’d suspected.
This kind of cowardly temperament born from being raised poorly needed someone to give her a push. Otherwise, it would take until the end of time for her to take the initiative.
Su Hansheng saw Gong Handan had recovered her senses and quickly rushed forward: “Sister, your hand… is it okay?”
In his panic earlier, he’d sent the talismans flying. Now Gong Handan’s hand bore several wounds, bleeding openly.
Gong Handan lowered her eyes to look, then shook her head: “Thank you for stopping me.”
If she’d truly taken Gong Fuqu’s soul as lamp oil in her muddled state…
Gong Handan didn’t dare think further.
Su Hansheng cradled her still-bleeding hand. The talismans were powerful—even a sacred object had been wounded. He frowned: “This needs spirit salve, right? The Little Medical Immortal…”
Zhou Gusha was somewhere biting her brush, researching something intently, her eyes gleaming with undisguised enthusiasm. She casually tossed over a bottle: “Just apply it yourself… don’t disturb me.”
Su Hansheng had long grown accustomed to Zhou Gusha’s temperament. He quickly caught the spirit salve and was about to apply it to Gong Handan’s wounds.
Ying Zhijin, who’d been watching Gong Handan, suddenly said: “Xiaoxiao, didn’t you say you needed to return to do your lessons?”
Su Hansheng looked up confused: “Huh?”
Ying Zhijin gave him a meaningful look.
Su Hansheng glanced at Gong Handan, finally understanding Ying Zhijin’s intent. He quickly said “Oh, oh,” and awkwardly told Gong Handan: “Sister, I need to go back and do my lessons. If I’m late, the academy director will scold me.”
Gong Handan was still looking at the pearl curtain outside. Hearing his words, she nodded lightly, gesturing for him to go.
Su Hansheng set down the salve and quickly left.
Gong Handan remained frozen for a long while before withdrawing her gaze, lowering her eyes to look at her hand still trickling blood, lost in thought.
Suddenly, someone approached slowly, rolled up her sleeves, and sat in the chair Su Hansheng had just occupied. With slender fingers, she picked up the spirit salve from the table.
Gong Handan froze, looking up in shock.
Gong Fuqu had returned, speaking awkwardly: “The Young Lord needs to leave. I… I’ll help you apply the salve.”
She still seemed to fear being nearly killed, and even with Su Hansheng’s explanation, her instincts remained cautious. She carefully and tentatively grasped Gong Handan’s wrist.
Gong Handan trembled violently as if touching hot coals, nearly reflexively pulling her arm back.
Gong Fuqu was startled: “Did I hurt you?”
Gong Handan remained silent for a long while before biting her lips and shaking her head. She watched as Gong Fuqu carefully and gently applied the salve to her wounds.
Ying Zhijin sat nearby watching the two, casually tapping her disciple token.
Su Hansheng’s message came through: “Senior Sister, Senior Sister, how is it? Have they recognized each other?”
“What’s the rush?” Ying Zhijin replied. “If you had a twin sibling who’d been missing for years, would you recognize them on first meeting?”
Su Hansheng muttered quietly: “Besides, Lingbo Valley’s people will come tonight. They’ll recognize each other eventually.”
“Forcing an unwilling ox to drink—that’s how your Senior Brother acts. Don’t learn his bad habits.” Ying Zhijin clicked her tongue. “If Gong Handan has no will to recognize her family, forcing her to acknowledge her ancestry will only lead Gong family to take her back to Lingbo Valley and continue controlling her future. She’ll simply leap from one fire pit into another identical one.”
Su Hansheng understood Ying Zhijin’s meaning but remained anxious: “Then when will that happen?”
Gong Handan’s lack of independent agency couldn’t be changed overnight. Would they have to wait until the end of time?
“Stop meddling,” Ying Zhijin said. “I’ll handle the people from Lingbo Valley when they arrive tonight. Children should mind children’s matters. Don’t try to stick your nose in everything. Go do your lessons.”
Su Hansheng: “…”
Knowing his own actions weren’t mature enough, Su Hansheng couldn’t bring himself to meddle in Gong Handan’s affairs. After hesitating, he ultimately decided to let Ying Zhijin handle it.
He’d already returned to Falling Parasol Lodge when something suddenly occurred to him. He asked: “Senior Sister, since Yingxu Sect also sells intelligence, do you happen to know… where the fourth sacred object, Rotten Axe Realm, is located?”
Rotten Axe Realm’s Qifu Yin had already been expelled from the sacred objects by Heaven’s Dao. A new Rotten Axe Realm should have been born.
Ying Zhijin’s tone turned strange: “Who told you the fourth sacred object is Rotten Axe Realm?”
Su Hansheng was taken aback: “Huh? Then what is it?”
Ying Zhijin only left him with one sentence: “Check your storage ring.”
Then she ignored him.
Su Hansheng puzzled over the storage ring Ying Zhijin had given him for a long while, but it contained only spiritual stones—nothing else whatsoever.
Could the fourth sacred object… be a spiritual stone mine?
Su Hansheng nearly laughed at his own thought.
Sacred objects should be Heaven’s Dao bestowing them to guard Buzhou Immortal Mountain. They shouldn’t be that carelessly chosen.
Su Hansheng had given up caring. His mind was now solely focused on going to the market with Chongjue tomorrow. He casually tossed the storage ring aside.
Who cared what the fourth sacred object was—none of his business.
Su Hansheng wandered over to his bed, planning to take a nap, when Ying Zhijin’s words suddenly surfaced unbidden in his mind.
“Just like how you suppress the Falling Abyss Dragon’s transformation, the Silver-Carved Lamp’s oil can only use dragon blood.”
“Check your storage ring.”
In a flash of realization, Su Hansheng’s eyes snapped open. He sprang from the bed and hastily seized the storage ring.
This time, he didn’t examine the spiritual stones inside. Instead, his focus was on that tiny Yingxu Sect pattern carved onto the ring itself.
It matched the amber fragment he’d seen sold at the recent Wendao Festival—the ring bore the familiar dragon-phoenix-lamp jade pattern.
Dragon-Phoenix-Lamp Jade.
The fourth sacred object…
Was jade?
***
Early the next morning.
Chongjue wore a blue robe with subtle lotus patterns, waiting in the Buddhist hall as dawn broke.
He still held Buddhist scriptures in his hand, eyes lowered. After a long while, he’d barely managed to read one page.
At that moment, the transmission device on the small table emitted a bird-song chirp.
Chongjue slowly set down the scriptures, his posture refined and graceful, and flicked his fingers elegantly.
He’d expected Su Hansheng’s cheerful voice, but instead received the rough, booming tone of Lingbo Valley’s valley lord.
Chongjue’s brows furrowed slightly.
The valley lord’s voice rang like a bronze bell: “World-Honored One, good morning… Yesterday we made no rash moves, only had Fuqu keep her company. Today, Yingxu Sect coincidentally has an autumn market, and the Young Lord invited both Fuqu and… Handan… wuu.”
The sentence dissolved into sobbing. Soon, a gentle female voice took over.
“Get lost, stop blubbering—it’s unseemly. You’ve been crying all night. We owe thanks to the Young Lord for reminding us not to rush the recognition. Otherwise, with your pathetic sniveling, you’d scare Handan away again—ahem, World-Honored One, please forgive our rudeness. We’ve come to express our gratitude for saving Handan’s life. We’d like to visit the Buddhist hall at the back mountain to thank you in person. Would you have time to receive us?”
The Buddhist hall was empty.
Chongjue said indifferently: “It was merely a small matter—no need for such formality. I’m otherwise occupied today and cannot receive guests.”
The valley lord quickly replied: “Of course, of course. We wouldn’t dream of disturbing your meditation. We’ll visit another time when you’re free.”
Chongjue: “Mm.”
He dismissed the transmission device with a flick of his fingers. The World-Honored One, who was supposedly busy with “important matters,” turned another page of the Buddhist scripture.
…He appeared remarkably idle.
Just then, Su Hansheng’s voice rang out from beyond the Buddhist hall: “Uncle, how are you still here?”
Chongjue’s hand, gripping the scripture, suddenly moved. He nearly tore the sutra that had been offered before Buddha at Mount Sumeru for several hundred years. He looked up indifferently, his previously hollow eyes seemingly filled with something—warm and lustrous as jade.
“Where else would I be?”
Su Hansheng rushed into the Buddhist hall barefoot, carrying his break-time assignments. He gave the World-Honored One a proper bow, then casually said: “Didn’t you say you had important matters to attend to yesterday? And just now too—seemed quite urgent. The Lingbo Valley people even wanted to visit and thank you, but you turned them away.”
Chongjue: “…”
Su Hansheng placed his assignments on the table and picked up his brush to begin writing. Seeing Chongjue still watching him with those complex eyes, he asked confused: “Hm? Uncle, aren’t you heading out?”
Chongjue closed the Buddhist scripture and placed it on the small table, his expression turning faintly cold: “Mm, I was just leaving.”
With that, he rose to depart.
Su Hansheng caught sight of Chongjue’s rare plain blue outer robes from the corner of his eye and thought bitterly: “The dog man dressed up specially… Is this attending to ‘important matters,’ or going to meet a paramour?”
No, the World-Honored One would never do such a thing—that’s Evil One’s style.
Even so, Su Hansheng felt inexplicably sour. Seeing Chongjue’s tall, graceful bearing and the way his jade-like blue robes moved with an ascetic restraint contradicting his refined appearance—it was utterly bewitching.
He couldn’t help but dredge up old grievances.
“Uncle, how come you’re not wearing your plain cassock robes? Did you gift them all to me as rewards and have none left to wear?”
Chongjue turned back and gave him a cold glance: “Nonsense.”
Su Hansheng should have been startled by this mild rebuke, but his uncle in the blue robes turned slightly, revealing his slender, refined waist where the layered robes fluttered in the breeze—carrying an ascetic restraint that paradoxically matched yet contradicted his Buddhist nature.
It was utterly mesmerizing.
Chongjue, expecting Su Hansheng to make more trouble, waited.
Instead, he watched the youth sitting so straight suddenly bend forward, bury his face in his assignment books with an “mm” sound, leaving only his flushed ears visible.
Chongjue stared at him, puzzled.
Was he… embarrassed?
**