Ch62 - You Are Uncle

Chongjue hurried over from the Buddhist hall.

Pushing the door open, he saw Su Hansheng sitting cross-legged in the sunlight, dazedly spreading his palms trying to catch the sunshine.

But he wasn’t a sapling reaching toward the sun, but rather roots buried deep in soil that couldn’t bear light. The warm sunlight was nothing but deadly poison that would make him wither and dry up. His hands, face, and even neck exposed to the sunlight had already been burned with scarlet marks, shocking to behold.

Su Hansheng seemed unable to feel the pain, tilting his head and spreading his bleeding ten fingers, with even the spaces between them beginning to burn with strange flames.

—Just like when Qifu Zhao had been burned.

Su Hansheng’s clothes and even his loose long hair had already caught strange fire.

Suddenly seeing someone enter, he tilted his head and looked for a long time. His beautiful amber pupils had almost turned orange-red. Extending his hands that were nearly burned to white bone, he waved them casually like dancing, saying happily like a child:

“Uncle, look, I can conjure fire.”

The “substitute with one’s body” technique couldn’t transfer the burning injuries in Su Hansheng’s bloodline. Seeing Su Hansheng nearly burned to a skeleton, Chongjue’s face darkened as he quickly stepped forward and swept him up in his arms, escaping the scorching sunlight.

With the world spinning, Su Hansheng’s bloody hand grabbed Chongjue’s robes. Looking up at him for a long time, he actually started giggling like he was drunk.

Chongjue let him lean against his chest, condensing spiritual power at his fingertips and touching his still-burning forehead.

With a whoosh, the flames ignited by sunlight instantly dispersed.

“Xiaoxiao… Xiaoxiao.”

Su Hansheng’s eyes were still unfocused and scattered. He tilted his head and stared at Chongjue for a long time, not knowing if he recognized him. He reached out to hug Chongjue’s neck, laughing and repeating like a parrot: “Xiaoxiao, Xiaoxiao!”

Su Hansheng was covered in blood, and with just a casual touch, he got blood all over Chongjue.

Before the World-Honored One’s obsession with cleanliness could flare up, Su Hansheng suddenly spat out a mouthful of foul blood, completely staining Chongjue’s snow-white plain robes.

Su Hansheng didn’t know what he was imagining. Before Chongjue could speak, his little face went pale as he wailed and tried to crawl away, crying and laughing: “Going to get beaten! Going to get beaten! Xiaoxiao’s going to get beaten, haha!”

Chongjue: “…”

In Su Hansheng’s mind, had he become a villain who would casually hit people over a bit of dirt?

Su Hansheng nearly rolled off the bed. Chongjue forcibly pulled him back and pressed him down on the bed, frowning as he wiped away the fresh blood still spilling from the corner of his lips, saying in a deep voice: “Lie still.”

Su Hansheng seemed to fear Chongjue’s cold face and immediately froze in place with a terrified expression, not daring to move at all.

“I’m lying still, I won’t move…”

Seeing his fearful appearance, Chongjue felt like his heart was being squeezed hard. He tried to soften his voice, saying gently: “Don’t be afraid, I won’t hit you again…”

Before the comforting words were finished, the rigid Su Hansheng suddenly puffed out his cheeks, as if desperately trying to hold back laughter, his lips tightly closed, trembling all over from the effort.

After a moment of silence, Chongjue asked: “What’s wrong?”

Su Hansheng couldn’t help but burst into loud laughter while still following Chongjue’s “command” to lie still, keeping his limbs rigid and motionless.

Chongjue really didn’t understand today’s young people. He reached out to wipe the blood from his lips while asking:

“What are you laughing about?”

Su Hansheng was about to speak but laughed so hard he got his comeuppance, unable to hold back a violent coughing fit.

Seeing him cough so hard he could barely breathe while still lying rigidly afraid of being beaten, Chongjue helplessly lifted his upper body to lean against his chest, gently helping him catch his breath.

Su Hansheng coughed up several mouthfuls of blood, struggling to grip Chongjue’s shoulders and panting for a while, then looked up at him with bright eyes.

Chongjue hadn’t seen this kind of look since he’d hit him last time. For a moment, that string in his heart felt like it had been heavily plucked, with an unprecedented melody echoing in his mind.

“Shh.” Su Hansheng struggled to support himself, leaning close to Chongjue’s ear to whisper, saying very quietly: “I’ll tell you, but don’t tell anyone else.”

The breath carrying the scent of blood sprayed against his neck. Chongjue uncomfortably turned his head away, revealing his completely red ear tips.

“What.”

Su Hansheng laughed so hard he nearly fell out of Chongjue’s embrace, struggling to lightly stroke Chongjue’s forehead with his finger, saying intermittently: “My uncle… haha, there are little people dancing on his eyebrows.”

Chongjue: “…”

***

Qifu Zhao had been busy for most of the day, “threatening” Zhou Gushe—though he got beaten up, he barely managed to settle the “bone-clinging detoxification” matter.

However, the price was translating those rare Fuli clan medical books for Zhou Gushe.

Su Hansheng would be dizzy and confused for half the day today, unable to attend classes. After getting beaten up, Qifu Zhao hurriedly ran to Four Illuminations Hall to request sick leave for the Young Master.

But requesting leave generally required the student’s disciple token, so Qifu Zhao had to run back quickly to get the Young Master’s seal.

Just as he hurriedly ran back to Falling Parasol Lodge and pushed the door open, he saw Chongjue in snow-white robes holding Su Hansheng horizontally in his arms, looking like he planned to abduct him.

Qifu Zhao was startled and quickly bowed: “Greetings, World-Honored One.”

Chongjue’s expression was cold and indifferent. After giving an “mm” sound, his form vanished like cloud and mist.

Qifu Zhao’s sharp eyes caught sight of Su Hansheng’s disciple token at his waist and hurriedly called: “World-Honored One, please wait!”

As soon as his words fell, the World-Honored One, carrying the Young Master… along with the Young Master’s disciple token at his waist, completely turned into smoke and disappeared from Falling Parasol Lodge.

Qifu Zhao: “…”

He was doomed.

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In the afternoon, Chu Fenghan handed the detailed breakdown of Su Hansheng’s truancy point deductions to Xu Nanxian.

“Three points deducted per class. Your junior brother missed nine classes… oh wait, including this morning and the early morning class, that’s twelve classes total.”

Xu Nanxian was at Separate Years’ Ink Workshop buying magical tools when he heard this. He was stunned: “Twelve classes?!”

Didn’t that silly kid even know to request leave?!

“Mm.” Chu Fenghan said, “Your junior brother seems quite clever, but why is his brain a bit foolish?”

Xu Nanxian could call Su Hansheng foolish, but when others said it, it was like poking his lungs. He glared at him coldly: “You’re the foolish one.”

Chu Fenghan said lightly: “He shouldn’t have come to that last class yesterday. That way, even with three consecutive days of truancy, he’d only be penalized twelve points. Combined with the fifteen points Four Illuminations Hall gave him for turning the tide at the Wendao Festival, he’d still have points remaining.”

Now it was perfect—everything was deducted, and they’d have to call an elder to the academy for embarrassment.

Zhuang Lingxiu was sitting nearby with his legs crossed, drinking tea. His movements suddenly stiffened, but he pretended to be calm as he lifted his teacup and took a sip: “Right, why is Xiaoxiao so foolish?”

Xu Nanxian: “…”

Xu Nanxian frowned deeply, looking over the point deduction sheet again and again: “Xiaoxiao was unconscious at the time and went to Banqing Prefecture for treatment. Temporarily forgetting to request leave is understandable. Can’t the absence slip be supplemented?”

Chu Fenghan said: “No. If he’d come to supplement it the day he returned, there might have been a chance.”

Zhuang Lingxiu’s teacup and saucer rattled in his hands. Finally unable to bear it anymore, he said angrily: “Why didn’t you say this earlier?!”

Chu Fenghan looked at him coldly: “This is common sense. Any normal person who forgot to request leave would immediately go supplement the absence slip first, rather than trying to exploit Disciplinary Hall loopholes by attending one class to avoid punishment.”

Zhuang Lingxiu: “…”

Zhuang Lingxiu had caused too much trouble and was already accustomed to immediately looking for loopholes to avoid heavier punishments. In Su Hansheng’s moment of anxiety, he’d instinctively given bad advice.

Who knew the plan to steal a chicken would result in losing the rice instead.

Xu Nanxian said quietly: “The bad idea of having Xiaoxiao attend class came from you?”

Zhuang Lingxiu knew he was in the wrong and quickly held up a cup of tea to offer: “Bubei, have some tea.”

Xu Nanxian nearly rolled his eyes, saying irritably: “My big senior brother has always been strict. He’s a Dao Lord who cultivates the Heartless Way. Have you forgotten how when I first got in trouble at the academy and had to call an elder, he came and gave me such a severe beating I couldn’t even get out of bed?!”

Zhuang Lingxiu said dryly: “If Xiaoxiao calls an elder… it should be calling the World-Honored One, right? The World-Honored One has a good temper and doesn’t hit people…”

Before he finished speaking, he remembered Chongjue hitting Su Hansheng and could only shut his mouth.

Chu Fenghan raised an eyebrow: “The Heartless Way? There are actually people in the three realms who can truly cultivate the Heartless Way? Dao Lord Ying is indeed worthy of being the Immortal Lord’s eldest disciple.”

“Oh, no.” Xu Nanxian looked worried and said casually: “His Heartless Way was broken by someone long ago. Now he’s extremely irritable—he hits people whenever something doesn’t go his way. Xiaoxiao definitely won’t escape this beating…”

As he was thinking, his peripheral vision caught the Separate Years mark on the Ink Workshop’s magical tools. He paused and said vaguely: “Unless…”

Zhuang Lingxiu quickly pressed: “Unless what?”

Xu Nanxian stroked the Separate Years mark, his face pale: “Unless I get beaten first.”

Zhuang Lingxiu looked at him incredulously, seemingly unable to understand: “You have thick skin—if you get beaten, just get beaten! The most important thing now is not letting Xiaoxiao get beaten up. With his small arms and legs, he can wail for half a day from just a bump. Your big senior brother really beats people to death—how could he withstand it?!”

Xu Nanxian: “…”

He even suspected it was Su Hansheng who’d been spending years with this guy—how could his elbow still bend outward?

But this time with the point deductions, Su Hansheng truly wasn’t at fault. Xu Nanxian rubbed his forehead and helplessly asked the shopkeeper who was fetching magical tools for them: “Is Miss Fang from Separate Years at the Ink Workshop today?”

After Zhuang Lingxiu heard him ask, he seemed to be casting some spell, making hand seals while his lips barely moved, as if muttering to himself.

Looking closer, he could hear him praying: “She’s not there, she’s not there, she’s not there…”

The shopkeeper said: “Miss Fang is here.”

Xu Nanxian’s face turned green.

Zhuang Lingxiu’s eyes lit up as he quickly moved forward to put his arm around Xu Nanxian’s shoulders: “Then please inform her that Xu Nanxian of Yingxu Sect requests an audience with Miss Fang.”

Xu Nanxian glared at him fiercely.

Chu Fenghan sat nearby, casually toying with a bell-shaped magical tool. The bell looked finely crafted—when lightly pushed, it made a crisp sound that made his jade-white fingertips look even more beautiful and alluring.

He raised an eyebrow slightly: “The master of Separate Years markets? Bubei knows her?”

Before Xu Nanxian could speak, Zhuang Lingxiu eagerly said: “Knows her, knows her, of course he knows her. Miss Fang is Bubei’s second senior sister—oh, beautiful Fenghan, what you’re toying with is a new product from the Ink Workshop, a jade-quality Myanmar bell.”

Chu Fenghan: “…”

Chu Fenghan’s movements froze. After realizing what it was, his pale face instantly turned red as if blood would drip from it. He shot several zhang away, not knowing whether he should first crush that damned Myanmar bell or chop off his claws.

Zhuang Lingxiu raised an eyebrow with a half-smile, watching Chu Fenghan flee in embarrassment to a distance, frantically washing his hands in water like a madman, as if trying to scrub off a layer of skin.

Jin Yiyuan didn’t know how long he’d been watching from the shadows. Seeing an opportunity to be attentive, he quickly approached with a leisurely air, pretending to encounter them by chance. Fanning himself with a smile, he said something to Chu Fenghan.

Chu Fenghan coldly parted his lips, seemingly saying “get lost.”

Jin Yiyuan saw that Chu Fenghan’s palms had been scrubbed red. Smiling, he said a few words, then gently cupped Chu Fenghan’s hand with slow movements, spreading the palm and lightly pressing it against his own face.

Chu Fenghan seemed stunned, his whole body stiffening as the blush on his face burned directly to his ears.

This was probably Jin Yiyuan’s second time seeing the beautiful Deputy Enforcer’s shy, peach-blossom face. His lips curved upward, feeling this reconciliation was extremely promising.

But before he could react, he suddenly saw Chu Fenghan’s hand desperately rubbing against Jin Yiyuan’s face several times, as if trying to wipe off something dirty.

Jin Yiyuan looked completely confused.

After rubbing twice, Chu Fenghan somehow became embarrassed into anger. He cleanly slapped Jin Yiyuan across the face with a loud crack and fled in embarrassment.

Jin Yiyuan’s face was tilted slightly from the blow. He seemed completely stunned, watching Chu Fenghan’s rare panicked departure for a long time without coming to his senses.

Zhuang Lingxiu and Xu Nanxian had been clicking their tongues the whole time.

Seeing Jin Yiyuan approaching with an expressionless face, they clicked their tongues even louder.

Even this dog had days of getting slapped.

Jin Yiyuan’s status was extremely prestigious with an illustrious family background. Being slapped in broad daylight in front of everyone—how could he bear such humiliation…

Jin Yiyuan walked over, covering his face, saying dazedly: “He didn’t use his whip to beat me today?”

Xu Nanxian and Zhuang Lingxiu: “?”

…He could handle it?

Jin Yiyuan’s face finally showed a smile: “It seems our marriage as dao companions is imminent. We should choose an auspicious date.”

The two: “…”

Getting beaten made him happy again?

Seriously, this person would eventually die from being too shameless.

“You just said Miss Fang is Bubei’s second senior sister?” Jin Yiyuan didn’t mind the disdain of those around him, leisurely sitting in the spot where Chu Fenghan had been sitting. He raised his hand to call the shopkeeper, having him wrap up and purchase the Myanmar bell Chu Fenghan had been playing with, saying casually: “But I remember Miss Fang is a demon cultivator, and seems to have no sect affiliation?”

Xu Nanxian rolled his eyes irritably: “Senior Sister has already left Yingxu Sect and sealed her heart against love. When she sees people from Yingxu Sect, she beats them first without saying a word—otherwise, why do you think I’m afraid to ask her for favors?”

Jin Yiyuan lazily propped up his chin, buying a pile of strange new items: “Miss Fang was able to develop Separate Years into the three realms’ largest market in just a hundred years, earning spirit stones faster than mining a spirit stone vein. With such heavenly talent, why did she leave Yingxu Sect?”

Xu Nanxian didn’t want to deal with him.

The shopkeeper happened to return, nodding to indicate he could go to the top floor to see Miss Fang.

Zhuang Lingxiu patted his shoulder seriously: “For Xiaoxiao’s sake, go bravely and fearlessly.”

Xu Nanxian: “…”

Xu Nanxian went upstairs with mixed feelings.

Jin Yiyuan stuffed his purchases into his storage ring, sidling up to Zhuang Lingxiu and whispering: “Hey, when you said last night you’d help me—was that sincere?”

Zhuang Lingxiu glanced at him without speaking, pointing to a priceless magical tool on the shelf.

“Shopkeeper, bring that one for me to see.”

Jin Yiyuan was very perceptive, waving his hand: “Don’t bother looking. Just wrap it up for Young Master Zhuang. Whatever he fancies today, buy it all.”

Zhuang Lingxiu turned around seriously: “Fenghan’s temper—we both know it. If he really didn’t have those feelings, he would have chopped off your family jewels that morning instead of tolerating you wandering around being an eyesore.”

“Cough.” Jin Yiyuan awkwardly rubbed his nose: “He… he did want to draw his blade, but I ran fast and he didn’t catch me.”

Zhuang Lingxiu: “…”

If you don’t get beaten, who will?

***

Buddhist hall in the back mountains of Wendao Academy.

Su Hansheng’s injuries had all healed. Chongjue had bathed and changed his clothes for him. He was now lazily curled up on the bed, sleeping deeply.

Chongjue closed his eyes in meditation, chanting sutras.

His Mahayana stage divine consciousness had long been accustomed to unconsciously extending outward. Normally he felt nothing unusual, but today he constantly felt a breathing sound lingering in his ears, disturbing his ability to enter deep meditation and chant.

Chongjue frowned deeply, the hand fingering his prayer beads applying slight pressure.

Suddenly, that breathing sound stopped, and a vague sleep-talking voice rang in his ears.

“Mmm… no.”

Chongjue’s eyes snapped open, his prayer bead fingering stopping abruptly.

That breathing sound that troubled his mind…

Was actually Su Hansheng’s?

Chongjue’s face darkened as he forced himself to close his eyes and enter meditation, completely withdrawing his divine consciousness to avoid hearing that breathing.

Suddenly plunged into dead silence, he found Su Hansheng’s breathing even more distinct, as if right beside his ear, following him like a shadow.

Chongjue nearly crushed the prayer beads to powder.

Just then, the Buddhist hall door was gently knocked.

In the vast back mountain Buddhist hall, only Zou Chi would visit, but he seemed to have left Wendao Academy recently for parts unknown.

Chongjue extended his divine consciousness again. When he sensed who was outside, his pupils instantly darkened.

The carved wooden door of the Buddhist hall slowly opened.

Zhuang Lingge in blue robes slowly lowered his knocking hand. His dragon pupils coldly met Chongjue’s gaze, seeming unawed by Chongjue’s status—not even observing basic courtesy.

The Falling Abyss Dragon’s body was so robust it could be called immortal. Though the Silver-Carved Lamp and Phoenix Bone were also sacred objects, both seemed to be lacking something—the lamp needed souls as lamp oil, the bone had to constantly endure burning pain.

Dragons, aside from difficulty returning to human form, could truly be considered heavenly gifts.

Zhuang Lingge had slept eight hours a day since childhood. After growing up and transforming into dragon form, he slept day and night without end.

Even so, his cultivation had reached mid-stage Void Refining in just a few years after coming of age—a shocking speed.

Zhuang Lingge, who had been pampered and treated like royalty in Banqing Prefecture, had no idea what “bowing in courtesy” meant.

Zhuang Lingge held in his hand a silk tassel floating in midair—it was the gift of thanks Su Hansheng had given him. Now a strand of spiritual power drawn from it swayed with the wind, pointing in Su Hansheng’s direction.

Zhuang Lingge’s tone was ice-cold: “Is Hansheng here?”

Chongjue looked at him expressionlessly.

Qi Jianyi, who had a marriage contract with Su Hansheng, also called Su Hansheng this way.

The pet name “Xiaoxiao” could only be used by those close to him, also signifying that one could only remain within the boundaries of family relationships—to go further would be transgression and impropriety.

…But calling him “Hansheng” alone carried some indescribable intention.

Chongjue couldn’t discern what this dragon’s true feelings toward Su Hansheng were, saying coldly: “What do you want with him?”

“Hansheng’s spiritual power seems unstable.” Zhuang Lingge was indeed at Void Refining stage—from just one strand of residual spiritual power, he could detect Su Hansheng’s abnormality. “I can heal his injuries and also reconstruct his physical body.”

This dragon showed no courtesy whatsoever. Chongjue frowned slightly, getting the vague impression from his tone that he himself was some evil wretch who had harmed Su Hansheng.

Chongjue said indifferently: “He’ll be fine.”

The silk tassel in Zhuang Lingge’s palm continued floating in the air. He seemed not to notice Chongjue’s refusal, tilting his head and saying expressionlessly: “But Hansheng’s tassel’s spiritual power says he’s currently unwell.”

Chongjue glanced lightly at that silk tassel.

They’d only known each other for a few days, yet Su Hansheng had already given away the tassel from his personal seal.

“No need for your concern,” Chongjue said coldly.

But Zhuang Lingge stubbornly refused to leave: “I brought dragon blood medicine that can heal his injuries.”

Perhaps annoyed, Chongjue said: “He’s sleeping. Leave the medicine and I’ll pass it along.”

“Ah.” Zhuang Lingge said slowly, then actually turned and sat down on the steps outside the Buddhist hall, hugging his knees. “This medicine is too bitter. You might not be able to get Hansheng to take it. I’ll wait here for him to wake up.”

Chongjue: “…”

The Buddhist hall door was slammed shut with a bang, and a new barrier was placed over it.

Chongjue’s brow carried a melancholy he himself hadn’t noticed. Just as he was about to close his eyes and meditate again, that persistent breathing sound finally stopped being steady.

Su Hansheng had slept for half the day and finally awakened.

But judging by the sounds, something seemed wrong.

Unable to calm his mind, Chongjue could only get up and go to the back courtyard quarters.

Su Hansheng had indeed opened his eyes, but perhaps because Zhou Gushe had mixed in too much poison, his scattered eyes were open but he still wasn’t fully conscious.

As Chongjue walked in, he vaguely heard Su Hansheng’s breathing seemed inexplicably rapid. Frowning slightly, he stepped forward. Just as he lifted the light-blocking bed curtain, he suddenly froze.

Su Hansheng lay languidly on the bed, his clothes disheveled, bare legs extending from under the brocade covers, toes curled as he kicked wrinkles into the sheets.

He arched his neck, breathing with difficulty, his unfocused pupils staring at emptiness, a thin layer of mist seeping from his amber eyes heavy with burning desire, feathery lashes blinking as tears suddenly fell from the corners of his eyes.

Chongjue’s hand gripping the curtain suddenly clenched.

Su Hansheng looked confusedly at Chongjue who had suddenly appeared. With tears streaking his face, he stared for a long moment, then suddenly bit his index finger knuckle and giggled. His other hand swayed up shakily, hooking Chongjue’s waist sash and pulling hard.

Caught off guard, Chongjue was pulled to the bedside, frowning deeply: “Su Hansheng.”

Su Hansheng’s cheeks were flushed red. One hand hugged Chongjue’s waist while the other brazenly began untying his sash. The bodhi flower fragrance was like oil poured on a fire, blazing up in the confined bed space.

Chongjue’s whole body tensed. He cupped Su Hansheng’s chin, making him look at his face, saying coldly: “See clearly who I am.”

Su Hansheng seemed immersed in a spring dream, thinking the Chongjue from Infinite Hell was playing games with him again, trying to force him to say lewd things. He skillfully cupped Chongjue’s hand holding his chin, placing it at his lips and gently biting the jade-like little finger.

Those mist-filled eyes seemed to steal souls, the corners slightly raised as he smiled and looked at him sideways.

“You are…”

Chongjue was shocked rigid by Su Hansheng’s skilled and wanton movements.

Su Hansheng extended his tongue tip to hook Chongjue’s little finger, his lips crimson red, scalding breath spraying against his palm. His behavior was completely at odds with his youthful face—full of unrestrained sensuality.

He laughed softly, like a demon bewitching hearts.

“You are Uncle.”

***