Ch75 - An Absurd Dream

“Ahhh—!”

Su Hansheng was the type to jump at a thunderclap, let alone discovering someone suddenly sitting by his bed in the dead of night. He was scared witless, his mind going completely blank.

By the time he regained consciousness, he’d already tumbled hard to the floor, body too weak to do anything but struggle to crawl away.

“Uncle! Uncle—there’s someone…!”

Hiss.

The guest quarters’ candle suddenly lit, the abrupt brightness making Su Hansheng instinctively squeeze his eyes shut. His heart, trembling with fright, felt stuffed full of fear, pounding like a drum ready to leap from his throat.

Suddenly: “Did I frighten you?”

The voice by his ear was achingly familiar. Su Hansheng turned around trembling.

Chongjue sat at the edge of the bed watching him, draped in loose, wide white robes, a rare mermaid candle burning faintly at his side.

The flickering candlelight illuminated half his face with warmth and gentleness, while the other half remained hidden in darkness—like a demon waiting to strike, sending chills down one’s spine in the deep night.

Su Hansheng sat slumped on the floor, gasping, forehead covered in sweat, voice carrying a crying tone as he asked in confusion, “Un…Uncle?”

Chongjue rose and came to his side, kneeling on one knee to help him up.

The candlelight illuminated his features, dispelling that earlier eerie split between light and dark.

“Why are you crying like this?” Chongjue reached out to wipe the tears of fright from his face, sighing softly. “I only came to check if you’d been bitten by bugs again.”

Su Hansheng was scared out of his wits, his whole body suddenly going limp. He stumbled into the arms of the very culprit who’d terrified him so thoroughly, powerless hands clutching at Chongjue’s robes, lips trembling for a long moment, unable to speak.

The shrine was close to the snowy mountains behind the hill—even in early autumn it was colder than usual. Su Hansheng wore thin clothing, and without the Phoenix Bone’s interference, he was even more susceptible to cold.

Chongjue, unable to tell if he was trembling from fear or cold, simply scooped him up horizontally, cradling him in his arms while gently soothing him, palm slowly stroking down from the back of Su Hansheng’s head.

“Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid. Uncle’s here.”

In his past life, despite their size difference, Su Hansheng had been light as a feather—sometimes his head would bump against the headboard, leaving him dizzy.

Now, still not yet come of age, held in Chongjue’s tall, imposing embrace, he was practically curled up inside. His heart still pounded with lingering fear. After a long moment, he said weakly, “You’re the one who scared me…”

What respectable elder visits a junior’s bedside in the dead of night to check for bugs—without even lighting a lamp?

If he’d had a heart condition, he’d have been frightened to death.

Chongjue stroked his head and seemed to chuckle softly. “You were quite bold as a child. I told you not to climb the pagoda, but you insisted—fell and chipped your front tooth but still grinned ear to ear.”

Su Hansheng didn’t remember anything from his childhood. He just thought Chongjue was acting strangely.

One moment saying he was obedient, the next saying he was bold and reckless, chipping his tooth.

Chongjue carried the thoroughly frightened youth to the bed, brushed away the sweat-dampened hair from his forehead, then fetched water to give him.

Su Hansheng only drank half a cup. After a long while, the fear coursing through his body finally began to settle.

He lay weakly against the pillow, boldly glaring at Chongjue. He held back, held back some more, but still couldn’t contain himself, saying sarcastically, “Uncle rushed over in the middle of the night—could it be your cultivation is so profound you sensed a bug was about to eat me alive, so you sat by my bed without lighting a lamp to catch it for me?”

“Mm.” Chongjue leisurely held a porcelain cup, gazing at the candlelight reflected in the remaining half-cup of water, saying calmly, “I haven’t lived in the guest quarters for a long time. There are indeed some bugs.”

Su Hansheng glared at him. “Where? Where are they?! Catch one and show me.”

Before Chongjue could speak, Su Hansheng himself hissed, impatiently lifting his robes—then his eyes went wide.

On his pale ankle, several unknown black insects were indeed crawling densely. That same strange red mark from yesterday had appeared on his anklebone again.

Chongjue said, “Yes, they’re…”

Before he could finish, Su Hansheng shot up, throwing himself at Chongjue, face pale as he shrieked, “Bugs! They’re crawling up my calf… Uncle! Chongjue!”

The Young Master Su feared neither snakes nor much else, but dreaded these swarming insects.

Chongjue paused, raising his hand to encircle Su Hansheng’s slender waist. With a cold glance, the black insects instantly dissolved into wisps of black mist, vanishing.

“There. They’re dead now.”

Su Hansheng broke out in goosebumps, struggling to kick off his robes. “Help me check if there are more inside my clothes! Ah! Why would a Mahayana-stage shrine have bugs?!”

This was beneath the World-Honored One’s dignity!

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As long as he was good.

As long as he didn’t run…

“I don’t want to sleep here anymore.”

Su Hansheng clutched Chongjue’s neck, eyes red-rimmed, scratching at the red marks on his ankle, wishing he could just die.

He said sullenly, “I’ll go back to Falling Parasol Lodge tomorrow—my companion tree is also a tree, and after all these years, it’s never attracted so many bugs to bite me.”

Chongjue’s eyes darkened abruptly, the candlelight making his dark pupils flicker like ghostly flames.

Su Hansheng keenly sensed something was off about Chongjue’s expression. Belatedly realizing his disheveled state—still clinging to an elder’s neck—he thought the old-fashioned man was shocked by his improper behavior again. He quickly climbed down, apologizing softly.

“I was rude. Please don’t be offended, Uncle.”

Chongjue waved his hand, cleaning the bed until it was spotless again.

His expression was calm, as if he hadn’t heard Su Hansheng’s statement about leaving. As usual, he took out yesterday’s medicinal wine and grasped Su Hansheng’s struggling ankle, making to apply the medicine.

Su Hansheng frowned. “Forget it. I’ll just wash up and go back to Falling Parasol Lodge—it’s not far from here anyway.”

Chongjue’s grip on his ankle suddenly tightened.

Su Hansheng froze. “Uncle?”

Chongjue hummed faintly, but it wasn’t agreement. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow. It’s still early—don’t you want to sleep a bit more?”

Su Hansheng didn’t understand.

He’d been frightened twice already. Even though Chongjue had tidied the bed, the psychological shadow remained. Even in the dead of night, he wanted to return to Falling Parasol Lodge—how could he possibly fall back asleep?

But somehow Chongjue’s tone was too beguiling. Su Hansheng met his gaze in a daze, mind going blank, even his amber eyes gradually losing focus as he mumbled in repetition:

“Uncle is right. It’s still early. Xiaoxiao should sleep a bit more.”

Chongjue smiled, rewarding him with a gentle voice. “Good. Sleep now.”

Su Hansheng had no chance to react. He immediately collapsed into the soft pillow, eyes closing in an instant, plunging into deep sleep without warning—docile and obedient.

Chongjue held Su Hansheng’s ankle but didn’t continue acting as the “considerate uncle” to apply medicine. Instead, he rose and approached, dark eyes brewing like a storm, full of covetousness as he stared fixedly at Su Hansheng’s sleeping face.

The youth’s features were even more tender than in his past life—the vibrant vitality Chongjue had never possessed.

In a hellish place like Infinite Hell, Su Hansheng, with nowhere to turn, could only cling desperately to him as a lifeline, unable to relax for even a moment.

Now, not yet come of age, the youth seemed never to have experienced those torments from his past life. He had his sect, two or three friends, still carrying the innocence of someone inexperienced with the world’s cruelty.

…No longer needing to cling to a lifeline to survive.

Chongjue’s eyes darkened. His large hand gripped Su Hansheng’s slender ankle bone, almost losing rational control as he gradually applied pressure.

“If you dare think about running away again, I’ll crush your ankle bones inch by inch, so from now on you can only spend the rest of your life lying in bed.”

He wants to escape.

Chongjue thought coldly.

Since he still wanted to flee, then he’d follow through—crush that slender ankle to powder, and he’d only be able to…

Before he could finish the thought, Su Hansheng frowned in his sleep, murmuring in pain, “Uncle.”

Chongjue’s pupils contracted slightly. The hand about to clench suddenly loosened.

Su Hansheng’s foot landed abruptly on Chongjue’s knee. Finding it uncomfortable, he kicked hard, rolled over, and continued sleeping comfortably, utterly carefree.

Chongjue watched him darkly for a long moment, finally sighing silently. He leaned down and, almost vindictively, bit hard into Su Hansheng’s exposed, fair nape revealed by his sideways position.

Su Hansheng made a muffled sound, brow showing some pain, his hand at his side gripping the sheets into suggestive wrinkles.

…But still didn’t wake.

Forget it.

Looking at his sleeping face, Chongjue thought: “Let it go for now.”

****

Su Hansheng slept until he woke naturally.

The morning bell for class had just rung its first chime.

Su Hansheng rubbed his sleepy eyes, groggily washing up. Perhaps too tired, he actually dozed off while tying his sash, slumped in a chair. When he startled awake, he jumped up and rushed toward the shrine.

“Uncle, Uncle! Which bell was that?!”

Chongjue was meditating, unbothered by Su Hansheng’s noise. “The second just rang.”

Su Hansheng froze.

That slow?

He’d thought it was already the sixth chime.

Chongjue said, “There are pastries on the low table. Eat before you leave.”

Morning time really did pass slowly.

Su Hansheng didn’t think much of it. He obediently nodded, ate a few peach blossom cakes, gathered his homework and books, and stood. “Then I’m off to class.”

“Mm.”

Su Hansheng trotted cheerfully toward Shangshan Study Hall, arriving before the fourth bell rang.

Yuan Qian had arrived early, seeing him with a smile. “Good morning, Young Master! Why so early today?”

Su Hansheng was immensely proud, saying arrogantly, “I’ll always be this early from now on.”

Yuan Qian laughed until he nearly doubled over. “Alright, alright, I’ll wait and see.”

Soon after, the hall master arrived for class.

Su Hansheng listened attentively, but after several consecutive sessions, he felt something was off.

Wasn’t this Master Zheng from the Ink Workshop? Why wasn’t he teaching mechanics and mathematics, but rather something more like…

Buddhist teachings?

Su Hansheng didn’t understand, but seeing the other students showed no reaction, he assumed it was an added class he simply didn’t know about and continued listening attentively.

Xu Nanxian and Zhuang Lingxiu hadn’t returned from their expedition yet. With nowhere else to go and Qifu Zhao warning him someone was following him, Su Hansheng simply went back to Falling Parasol Lodge after class to do homework with Yuan Qian and Wu Baili.

From then on, Su Hansheng shuttled between Falling Parasol Lodge and Shangshan Study Hall in a simple routine, passing over half a month uneventfully.

He’d thought about seeking out Chongjue during that time, but something about those days at the shrine felt off, and he instinctively avoided it—even those faint feelings he himself hadn’t noticed were nearly dried up and forgotten.

After half a month, Wu Baili finally crafted two longbows from the Divine Tree Vines, covered in densely packed talisman patterns.

Su Hansheng received a divine bow matching Wu Baili’s and immediately fancied himself a divine archer. Delighted, he called Yuan Qian, Wu Baili, and Qifu Zhao to the back hill to practice archery.

His companion tree was in its element among the mountain forests. Su Hansheng stood on a branch, moving through the dense woods with lightning speed.

Wooden spirit beast decoys from the Ink Workshop hid everywhere. Su Hansheng nocked an arrow, narrowed his eyes, and released with a swoosh.

Wu Baili said drily, “Missed.”

Undaunted, Su Hansheng’s pale fingers hooked the string again, declaring confidently, “The next arrow will definitely hit.”

Yuan Qian laughed. “That’s what you said about the last dozen arrows too.”

Su Hansheng released another arrow.

Still missed.

Su Hansheng kicked the companion tree beneath his feet, urging, “Faster! Get to the front! My next arrow will definitely hit!”

Qifu Zhao hesitated. “Young Master, there’s a cliff ahead. Be careful…”

“Stop nagging.”

Su Hansheng paid no attention, intent only on redeeming himself, cheerfully maneuvering the companion tree to chase the wooden spirit beast.

Qifu Zhao was right—ahead lay a steep cliff.

Su Hansheng’s hunting robe cinched his waist tightly. The youth radiated vitality, as if the troubles of his past life had vanished from memory. Like a truly spirited young man, eyes smiling, he drew his bow and released.

Swoosh.

The arrow pierced the wooden beast’s heart, pinning it to a boulder.

Su Hansheng immediately cheered. “Baili! Yuan Qian! Qifu Zhao! Look, I hit it… Ahh!”

The moment he finished, the companion tree’s main trunk was too far away—the branches could extend no further. Suddenly, as if losing all vitality, they became ordinary withered branches devoid of spiritual power.

Su Hansheng was already at the cliff’s edge. The dead branch beneath his feet snapped with a crash, and he stumbled, falling toward the abyss.

“Ahh…”

Qifu Zhao’s pupils shrank. He shouted, “Young Master!”

The sensation of freefall overwhelmed Su Hansheng. He instinctively reached for Qifu Zhao’s outstretched hand, but it was too late—he could only fall straight down.

“Young Master!”

“What’s all the fuss? It’s not life or death.” Wu Baili arrived, glanced down, and said drily, “The cliff’s only three zhang high, with a deep pool below. The Young Master’s at Foundation Establishment—he’ll be fine.”

Qifu Zhao: “……”

The cliff truly wasn’t high. Su Hansheng struggled to channel spiritual energy to control his fall, but his cultivation was too weak. He could only close his eyes and let himself plunge into the clear pool below.

“Splash—”

Su Hansheng’s eyes suddenly flew open, gasping heavily, maintaining his reaching posture as he stared blankly at the bed canopy above.

He hadn’t fallen into a pool. He wasn’t surrounded by the lush mountains…

It wasn’t even daytime outside.

His heart pounded like drums. Su Hansheng stared at the canopy in confusion, then his gaze shifted slightly downward.

Beyond the window lattice, the sky remained pitch black. On the low table by the bed, that rare mermaid candle had barely burned halfway.

The candlelight flickered.

Chongjue sat by the window, bathed in warm candlelight, eyes calmly watching Su Hansheng.

Residual spiritual energy from the forcibly shattered illusion still lingered around the narrow bed. With just one glance at the fragmented talisman patterns, Su Hansheng’s Fuli bloodline recognized it…

It was an illusion talisman that had just dissipated.

Su Hansheng froze.

Had that entire half-month been an illusion?

Chongjue leaned forward, his cold hand brushing Su Hansheng’s cheek. Feeling him tremble slightly beneath his palm, he somehow smiled.

“Why did you wake?”

A strange smile appeared on Chongjue’s incomparably handsome face—nothing of Mount Sumeru’s World-Honored One’s warmth and detachment, but rather something Su Hansheng recognized with near-terrifying familiarity… malice.

“Didn’t this dream please you, Xiaoxiao?”

He asked.

Su Hansheng stared blankly at Chongjue in the candlelight and suddenly shuddered.

“Chong… jue?”

***