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Chapter 111




An intense silence fell.
Su Hansheng swallowed nervously, mustering just enough courage to mumble, “Senior Brother…”
That “Senior Brother” seemed to break a barrier. Xu Nanxian finally ‘returned to life’, sucking in a sharp breath as his tall frame staggered involuntarily backward.
“Bubei!”
Zhuang Lingxiu reacted fast, grabbing him before he smashed his head against the floor.
Those few nonsense sentences from Su Hansheng had struck like a hammer—Xu Nanxian, who’d weathered so many life-and-death situations out in the wider world, had never taken such a blow.
He looked like he might pass out.
Alarmed, Su Hansheng rushed over, “Senior Brother! Senior Brother, what’s wrong?”
Yuan Qian and Wu Baili exchanged a look.
What else? He’s so shocked he’s about to faint.
Supported by Zhuang Lingxiu, Xu Nanxian gasped weakly, “Su Hansheng, what… what did you just say? Say it again…”
Su Hansheng didn’t dare repeat it, but he lacked the nerve to deny it outright—he could only look away uneasily.
Xu Nanxian seemed unwilling to believe it, his lips trembling as he clung to Zhuang Lingxiu’s arm, “Wasn’t that just a dream? It was a dream, right?”
Zhuang Lingxiu: “…uh…”
Xu Nanxian stared dumbly for a moment, then burst into action, roaring: “Su—Han—Sheng—!”
Seeing he’d been found out, Su Hansheng knew there was no point in hiding, so he bent his knees and sank to the floor with a thud, his neck stiff as he prepared to be punished. “Senior Brother, forgive me!”
Xu Nanxian was so furious he nearly lost consciousness; he lunged forward to smack the kid.
Sensing trouble, Zhuang Lingxiu hugged Xu Nanxian’s waist from behind, “Hey, calm down! At least let him finish explaining—Xiaoxiao, get up, this isn’t that big a deal, you can tell Brother Zhuang the details later.”
Xu Nanxian: “Zhuang Lingxiu!”
As the group sparred, a chill swept into the room.
Everyone turned—and saw Ying Jianhua standing at the door, brow deeply furrowed, frowning, “What is all this commotion?”
Su Hansheng’s complexion turned ashen.
Oh no, if Senior Brother finds out, he’s dead.
Ying Jianhua seemed to have come specifically to discipline someone. His casual glance took in Su Hansheng kneeling on the floor. His brow furrowed, “So you finally realized you were wrong and decided to start by kneeling?”
Su Hansheng’s face was pale as paper; his lips trembled but no sound escaped.
Xu Nanxian wiped out his voice with all the roaring.
Snapping out of it, Xu Nanxian shook off Zhuang Lingxiu’s grip, forced a bow, “Big Senior Brother.”
He’d been behaving well these past years, causing little trouble for Big Senior Brother, even earning some praise. Ying Jianhua’s face relaxed a bit, “What’s going on so early?”
Slumped on the ground in despair, Su Hansheng closed his eyes, bracing for a storm.
Xu Nanxian glared murderously at Su Hansheng before replying, “Nothing really. Big Senior Brother, didn’t you say even if he cultivated for eight hundred years he couldn’t reach Nascent Soul? I was just scolding him.”
Su Hansheng was momentarily stunned and suddenly looked up at Xu Nanxian.
Xu Nanxian had scolded Su Hansheng so harshly that the young lord was kneeling with a pale face. The fiercely angry Ying Jianhua, ready to impose punishment again, could not bring himself to worsen the situation and merely glanced at Su Hansheng.
Su Hansheng was probably truly frightened, his eyes bloodshot and lips pale.
“Enough already.” Ying Jianhua couldn’t hold back and muttered quietly to Xu Nanxian, “His constitution is special. Even forming the Golden Core was a blessing from the Master in heaven. Don’t expect too much more. A few harsh words are enough, but how did it come to this with him really kneeling?”
Xu Nanxian’s face turned green.
How did this suddenly become his fault?
But since the issue was brought up, he gritted his teeth and admitted, “Yes.”
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“Senior Brother…”
Xu Nanxian roughly pushed him away: “Don’t call me Senior Brother! What right do I have to be your brother?”
Su Hansheng insisted on sticking close and wouldn’t let go.
Xu Nanxian pushed back twice but eventually was unable to bear it and begrudgingly held him, roughly rubbing the back of Su Hansheng’s head, “Where did you get so much courage? The World-Honored One is no ordinary man. Even your Master treats him with respect, and yet you…”
Su Hansheng replied skillfully, “I was wrong.”
Xu Nanxian: “…”
All further scolding was cut off by this lightly spoken line, leaving Xu Nanxian choked up.
Yuan Qian watched in awe as Su Hansheng’s act of plea settled the crisis. He quietly took Wu Baili away before interfering.
Zhuang Lingxiu was a lively troublemaker. Seeing Xu Nanxian furious but still protecting Su Hansheng, he realized the matter was closed and smiled, asking, “Xiaoxiao, what about you and the World-Honored One—has it really happened?”
Su Hansheng hesitated before glancing at Xu Nanxian.
Xu Nanxian impatiently said, “The World-Honored One left Yingxu Sect before dawn. If he really has feelings for you…”
“Feelings…”
Xu Nanxian couldn’t say the words.
“…Why wouldn’t he bring you with him?” he said coldly. “Tell me honestly, did you misunderstand his kindness to juniors and go against propriety?”
Su Hansheng whispered, “He said Zou Chi had urgent business.”
Xu Nanxian exploded: “He? Zou Chi? How can you as a junior call him that?!”
Zhuang Lingxiu quickly pressed on Xu Nanxian’s shoulder to calm him, “Calm down, can’t you wait for Xiaoxiao to finish? Xiaoxiao, don’t be afraid, I’ll hold your brother steady, speak boldly.”
Su Hansheng had been corrupted by the evil one and dared such boldness to Yuan Qian and the others. Now that things were out, he dared even more.
“I didn’t misunderstand.” Su Hansheng stepped back carefully, fearing Xu Nanxian might bite him, testing: “I confessed many times three years ago, and he rejected me each time…”
Hearing “confession,” Xu Nanxian was nearly overwhelmed.
Su Hansheng retreated another step, “But after coming of age, Chongjue… ah, Uncle! I call him Uncle! Senior Brother, don’t faint! Uncle came to understand, privately pledged to me last night, and soon we’ll register…”
Xu Nanxian was nearly breathless with rage.
After hearing those harsh words just now, Xu Nanxian was nearly shocked past hope. Now, unprepared, hearing Su Hansheng committing such shocking acts behind his back nearly made him faint and go see Master.
Zhuang Lingxiu caught weak Xu Nanxian, eyes glowing faintly.
“Really?! Weren’t your fates ill-omened three years ago?”
Su Hansheng didn’t know why Chongjue suddenly consented and guessed, “Maybe I look better now?”
Zhuang Lingxiu: “…”
Definitely better looking, but would the World-Honored One be so shallow as to judge by looks?
Xu Nanxian slumped weakly into the chair, drinking several cups of water before regaining composure.
He gazed at Su Hansheng, who stood sheepishly pouring tea, lips opening and closing a few times before weakly saying, “You’ll be the death of me.”
The World-Honored One of Mount Sumeru was revered by all in the Three Realms…
No, he hardly qualified as a god, more like a Buddha standing atop clouds—looking upon him felt like sacrilege.
Yet Su Hansheng dared confess, repeatedly, even boldly…
Xu Nanxian’s headache worsened—anger aside, he also harbored some worry.
If Ying Jianhua knew about this, wouldn’t Yingxu Sect come crashing down?
Xu Nanxian looked at Su Hansheng in exasperation.
Su Hansheng squatted beside him, cautiously holding his brother’s hand over his head, acting good as gold. When he saw Xu Nanxian lower his eyes, he seized the moment to flash a winning smile.
That smile was the very picture of obedience.
Xu Nanxian lost his temper utterly but helplessly reached out to stroke Su Hansheng’s soft hair.
Forget it; all in good time.
Once the danger passed, Su Hansheng finally relaxed and happily went off to play with Yuan Qian and Wu Baili.
Normally, the route from Yingxu Sect to Wendao Academy passed by the Heaven-Reaching Tower.
Halfway through, they saw the enormous Heaven-Reaching Tower looming tens of miles away—dark, oppressive, and imposing.
As they drew closer, it became apparent that the usually still and upright Heaven-Reaching Tower was actually leaning ever so slightly, as though trembling with the rumbling underground.
At that moment, as they passed the tower, Su Hansheng was playing mahjong with Yuan Qian and Wu Baili. He had just drawn a tile when an unexpected flame burst from between his fingers, scorching the tiles to ash in an instant.
Startled, Su Hansheng quickly shook his hand.
Yuan Qian jumped up, alarmed. “What’s going on? Why are you suddenly—on fire?!”
When Su Hansheng had first entered Wendao Academy three years ago, his “bone-clinging poison” had once flared up and nearly burned down the Falling Parasol Lodge. Fearing another relapse, the two of them bolted to call Xu Nanxian or Ying Jianhua.
“Wait—I’m fine,” Su Hansheng said.
Wu Baili frowned back at him. “You’re literally on fire—how is that fine?”
“It happens all the time, nothing serious.”
He shook his hand again. His entire body felt as though his spiritual veins were boiling, yet oddly, there was no discomfort.
After calming his companions, Su Hansheng, utterly carefree, was about to resume the game when he faintly heard voices.
“What?”
Yuan Qian looked puzzled. “What what?”
“You two didn’t say anything?”
They both shook their heads. No one had spoken.
Su Hansheng frowned slightly, sensing something strange. He rose and pushed open the carved window.
Even though the sun hadn’t yet set, darkness had swallowed the outside world. Looking closer, he realized it wasn’t nightfall—the painting leisure boat was sailing beneath the looming shadow of the Heaven-Reaching Tower.
Su Hansheng stared blankly at the distant tower. It felt almost as if the tower were calling to him.
No—more precisely, it was calling to the phoenix bone within him.
He gripped the window frame, body leaning forward without realizing it.
Suddenly, Wu Baili clamped a hand on his shoulder.
Su Hansheng jolted as if waking from a dream. “Ah? What?”
Wu Baili frowned; something about him didn’t seem right. Applying gentle force, he pulled Su Hansheng back and firmly shut the window.
“Nothing worth seeing. We’ll be at the academy soon.”
The eerie sensation within Su Hansheng faded as quietly as it had come. “Oh,” he murmured, returning to the table to play again, though his thoughts were unsettled.
Was Chongjue hurrying back because something had happened to the Heaven-Reaching Tower? He would have to ask once they arrived.
Not long after sunset, Wendao Academy came into view.
Thanks to the authority of Daojun Ying, the leisure boat glided to a stop right in front of the academy gates.
Glancing around, Su Hansheng spotted Xu Nanxian and Ying Jianhua talking nearby. Since they were busy, he wasted no time, leaping off the leisure boat and vanishing with the wind.
He’d left his travel bundle for Yuan Qian to return to Falling Parasol Lodge and went straight toward the back mountain’s Buddha Hall.
Night had already fallen.
Using moonlight as a guide, he bounded up the stone steps.
The Buddha Hall was pitch dark, yet as he neared, a faint flame flickered to life—Chongjue must have sensed his arrival.
Though they had been apart for only a single day, Su Hansheng felt it had been longer than the three years he’d spent in secluded cultivation. Heart bursting with joy, he rushed forward and pushed the temple doors open.
Inside, Chongjue sat by a small desk, lighting a candle.
A gust from the opening doors snuffed out the tiny flame at once, plunging the hall back into darkness.
As a cultivator of the Great Ascension stage, Chongjue had no need for light; he did it only for Su Hansheng’s sake.
Panting, Su Hansheng’s face was full of delight. He launched himself toward the faint outline ahead.
“Chongjue—!”
With a thud, he tumbled straight into Chongjue’s arms, hooked his hands around the other’s neck, and, without an ounce of shyness, kissed him.
Chongjue stiffened, instinctively turning his head aside to push him away.
“Xiaoxiao…”
Unhappy, Su Hansheng frowned and gripped the back of Chongjue’s head, refusing to let him retreat. Inwardly, he grumbled—after all the progress they’d made, why was Chongjue pulling away again?
If not for his persistence—his refusal to be rejected or discouraged—they might have long since parted ways.
Monks of the Buddha path were endlessly cautious; he always had to take the lead.
When Chongjue resisted again, Su Hansheng bit his tongue lightly in warning, as if to say that if the man retreated another step, he’d really lose control.
Chongjue’s entire body went rigid.
Then suddenly—the candlelight flared alive again.
At the sound of a teacup dropping, someone inhaled sharply in shock.
Chongjue froze, finally pressing his large hand down on Su Hansheng’s head and forcing him against his chest.
Startled, Su Hansheng peeked out nervously from the folds of Chongjue’s robe.
Zou Chi stood there, still holding the fallen teacup, his expression utterly blank—stunned to the point he had even forgotten to disguise his aura of death.
Scalding tea pooled across the floor.
Chongjue averted his gaze and cleared his throat softly.
Su Hansheng said nothing.
Could a man really be this unlucky?
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