Ch79 - Better Not to Meet

Su Hansheng was cheerful all day. When called on in class to answer a question about talisman patterns, halfway through his answer he collapsed onto his desk laughing, unable to get up.

Everyone looked at each other. The hall master thought he’d gone qi-deviant.

After afternoon class ended, Su Hansheng hummed a little tune while packing up his books.

Yuan Qian came over with a smile. “Did something good happen today, Young Master? Why so happy?”

Su Hansheng’s smile nearly reached his ears. Even after being punished by the hall master to copy the Heart Sutra three times, his eyes still curved with joy. He hummed, “Can’t I be happy without something good happening? I’m naturally cheerful, smiling at everyone I meet.”

Wu Baili walked past holding his books, saying drily, “Ha.”

Even this sarcasm didn’t dampen Su Hansheng’s mood. Delighted, he hugged his books and playfully roughhoused with the two back to Falling Parasol Lodge.

Yuan Qian was normally annoying enough to scare cats and dogs, but in contrast, he kept early hours and diligently did his homework. After dinner, he’d carry a small desk to Falling Parasol Lodge’s courtyard to work while enjoying the cool air.

Wu Baili looked stern and proper, but was too lazy for those tedious assignments. He was currently holding his bow, practicing archery to the side.

Su Hansheng returned to fiddle around for a bit before carrying his homework out cheerfully.

Yuan Qian kept writing without looking up. “Where is the Young Master going to do homework?”

Su Hansheng’s steps paused. He feigned composure and waved his wide sleeve. “Ahem, there are a few cultivation techniques I don’t understand, so I’m going to the shrine on the back hill to ask Uncle.”

Yuan Qian looked up, snake eyes narrowed with a smile, drawing out his “Ohhhh” with great interest. “If I’m not mistaken, the robes the Young Master is wearing… seem to be Mount Sumeru Buddhist kasaya, right?”

Su Hansheng: “……”

Su Hansheng pulled his collar tighter, holding back for a long while before finally saying drily, “So your eyesight is that good. I thought with you squinting all day, your eyeballs had gotten all blurry.”

Yuan Qian: “……”

Su Hansheng finished speaking and left in a huff.

Yuan Qian bit his brush tip and glared at Wu Baili irritably. “It’s all your fault. The Young Master was such a good child, and now he’s learned to be sarcastic too.”

Wu Baili completely ignored him, expressionlessly releasing an arrow that struck dead center.

***

The companion tree clung to his body, holding a small lantern to light the path ahead for its master.

Su Hansheng jogged along toward the shrine on the back hill.

Last night, drunk Chongjue had thrown a pile of plain kasaya robes onto his bed, then, as usual, solemnly instructed him to be gentle, good, respectful, thrifty, and yielding before vanishing in a puff of smoke.

Buried in the fragrant pile of bodhi-scented clothing for a long while, when Su Hansheng finally recovered, he laughed until he nearly collapsed.

Such absurd behavior was absolutely impossible for the sober Chongjue. It seemed Ying Jianhua was right—the World-Honored One really did act strange when drunk.

Su Hansheng had been delighted all day.

In excellent spirits, he hummed a little tune he’d heard somewhere as he strolled toward the shrine.

On the stone steps, he could see the shrine among the mountain forests from afar, lights blazing brightly.

At this hour, Chongjue would surely be meditating.

Su Hansheng, full of mischief, clutched this weakness ready to thoroughly tease him, to see if Chongjue would dare put on airs in front of him again.

The youth had already prepared his script, ready to be respectfully admiring on the surface while dropping sarcastic barbs underneath, properly settling the score.

But just as he approached the shrine, he was stopped.

A little novice monk monk in robes, not even reaching Su Hansheng’s chest, had apparently been ordered to wait outside. He held a stern little face and stretched out his hand to block Su Hansheng, saying seriously, “Young Master, please stop.”

Su Hansheng looked down at him questioningly. “Who are you?”

The little novice monk didn’t answer, only saying coldly, “The World-Honored One is in meditation seclusion. Unauthorized persons may not freely enter the shrine.”

Su Hansheng smiled proudly. “I’m not unauthorized. I’m Uncle’s favorite nephew. Last night, Uncle even gave me his robes…”

The little novice monk’s face went green. Expressionless, he cut off Su Hansheng’s boasting.

“Young Master, please leave. We won’t see you out.”

Su Hansheng: “……”

Su Hansheng frowned at the little novice monk before him. “Did Uncle tell you to stop me?”

The little novice monk raised one palm in a Buddhist salute, holding his stern little face without speaking.

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Just as Su Hansheng was thinking this, he saw the world spin before his eyes, his feet unsteady.

When he came to his senses, he’d somehow descended from the steps, stumbling backward half a step. He frowned and looked up.

The little novice monk stood at the shrine entrance, his Nascent Soul stage aura radiating powerfully upward, though he’d clearly been ordered not to lay a finger on Su Hansheng.

“The World-Honored One will be in seclusion for ten days to half a month. Young Master shouldn’t waste time here. Please leave.”

Su Hansheng’s brow furrowed deeply.

A half-grown child was already at Nascent Soul stage.

Was Chongjue determined to play dead and avoid him?

Su Hansheng’s day-and-night good mood instantly vanished. He stood on tiptoe trying to peer into the shrine, only vaguely glimpsing a serene, seated silhouette behind the screen.

Those hands were still moving—he couldn’t possibly be in seclusion.

The more Su Hansheng thought about it, the angrier he got. He called out loudly, “Uncle, I don’t understand some cultivation techniques and came specifically to ask you. Could you spare one incense stick… no, half an incense stick of time?”

The little novice monk quickly stopped him. “Young Master, the shrine is sacred ground. No shouting!”

Su Hansheng deliberately disobeyed, insisting on making noise. “I also brought back the robes you left at Falling Parasol Lodge yesterday. I want to hand them to you personally. Uncle! Chongjue!”

The little novice monk’s eyes went wide with shock. “Impudent!”

Su Hansheng wanted to be even more impudent.

The little novice monk finally lost his patience and waved his hand.

Su Hansheng was still calling: “Uncle, Uncle…”

Before he could finish, he instantly vanished from the spot, teleported a mile outside the shrine.

Forcibly ejecting guests, the little novice monk’s eyes reddened with anger. He ran into the shrine and knelt outside the screen, sobbing, “World-Honored One, Immortal Lord Xuanlin’s son is too presumptuous! Today he not only wore your kasaya and made noise in the shrine, but… but he directly called your dharma name!”

The World-Honored One had cultivated at Mount Sumeru for years—when had he ever suffered such disrespect?!

Behind the jade screen inscribed with Buddhist scriptures, Chongjue was carving protective seals into a string of glazed prayer beads, seemingly indifferent to the outside world.

Hearing the little novice monk cry, the World-Honored One sighed softly after a long moment. “He has a childlike nature. It’s of no consequence.”

The little novice monk sobbed: “Then… then when will the World-Honored One return to Mount Sumeru?”

Chongjue’s hand carving the talisman pattern paused slightly.

He didn’t answer this question. After finishing carving the complete talisman, he suddenly said: “It’s already late—has he returned to Falling Parasol Lodge?”

The little novice monk wiped away tears. Though he didn’t like Su Hansheng’s offense, he still obediently activated his divine sense to scan outside: “No, the Young Lord is currently at Red Maple Forest two li away.”

Chongjue: “Red Maple Forest?”

“Yes.” The little novice monk said: “Seems he went to find that dragon.”

Chongjue’s pupils moved as his brows unconsciously furrowed. The half-drawn talisman in his hand suddenly dissipated as spiritual power exploded violently between his slender fingers.

Red Maple Forest?

So Su Hansheng coming to the Buddhist hall today was just in passing?

***

Red Maple Forest was completely silent.

Su Hansheng carried his lamp, unhappily kicking at the layers of fallen leaves beneath his feet, muttering: “Fine, don’t see me then. Who cares about seeing your ice-block face anyway? I’ll go find people who actually want to talk to me.”

Yuan Qian, Wu Baili, Qifu Zhao…

Even Zhuang Lingge was warmer toward him than Chongjue.

Su Hansheng hadn’t seen Zhuang Lingge for several days. Since he was passing by anyway, he’d make a trip to soothe his dragon form and avoid a wasted journey.

There were no lights in Red Maple Forest. After wandering alone with his lamp for a while, Su Hansheng gradually felt his hair stand on end. Not knowing if he’d developed a trauma from being stalked by Chongjue in the Infinite Hell, he always felt something was following him in the darkness.

Very creepy.

The more Su Hansheng thought about it, the more afraid he became—yet the more afraid, the more he pretended to be calm and composed.

After walking leisurely for a few steps, his pace gradually quickened. After passing several towering trees, Su Hansheng’s legs practically flew as he rushed through the thick fallen leaves straight to Zhuang Lingge’s cave dwelling entrance.

Seeing the lights on both sides of the cave dwelling, Su Hansheng’s racing heart finally slowly calmed.

He knocked on the door with forced composure: “Senior Brother Lingge, are you asleep?”

Silence from within the cave dwelling.

Even in human form, Zhuang Lingge spent all day curled up sleeping among piles of spirit stone ore in his dwelling. He might still be in deep slumber at this hour.

Su Hansheng wanted to leave, but feared that without checking for several days, Zhuang Lingge might silently transform into a dragon. If he was even a moment late and something went wrong, that would be terrible.

He waited patiently for a while, then knocked again.

“Senior Brother Lingge?”

This time, there was finally a response from inside.

Zhuang Lingge seemed reluctant to speak, his voice muffled through the stone door and sounding somber and cold: “Hansheng, I’ve already gone to bed. Whatever it is, let’s talk tomorrow.”

Su Hansheng was startled, half-believing as he said “oh”: “I just wanted to check if you’d grown dragon horns—since you’re fine, I’ll leave first. I’ll come find you again tomorrow after class.”

Zhuang Lingge: “Mm.”

Su Hansheng carried his lamp away thoughtfully.

Today’s Zhuang Lingge seemed a bit off.

Had something happened?

Su Hansheng frowned lightly, walking a few steps before turning back to look at the tightly closed cave dwelling door. After hesitating for a long time, he returned.

“Senior Brother Lingge, are you really alright? If you’ve truly transformed into a dragon, I can…”

Before he could finish, the stone door trembled violently with a tremendous crash, as if someone’s body had slammed heavily against it from inside. Even a small hanging lamp on the side was shaken out.

Su Hansheng was frightened into retreating several steps.

Zhuang Lingge’s voice came from within, no longer maintaining his feigned composure from before, speaking almost coldly: “Leave quickly!”

No matter how slow, Su Hansheng sensed something was wrong and immediately obediently ran outside.

But it was already too late.

Boom—

The cave dwelling’s stone door was suddenly shattered by something, and if Su Hansheng hadn’t run fast enough, he would have been hit by flying rocks and bloodied.

A phantom dragon emerged from the cave dwelling, instantly transforming into human form floating in midair.

Zhuang Lingge’s face was cold and stern, the aura around him carrying fierce killing intent—completely different from his usual languid, sleepy appearance. He said indifferently: “Come out. Don’t break my spirit stones.”

Fire-like dragon phantom images swirled around him, like an immortal bathed in flames.

Su Hansheng fled frantically outward as his companion tree constantly extended roots into the soil to scout ahead.

But just as he was about to rush out of Red Maple Forest, the companion tree seemed to sense something. Its withered branches suddenly danced wildly, forcibly forming spider-web-like tendrils that directly blocked Su Hansheng’s charging path.

Su Hansheng stumbled and fell into a pile of dead branches, belatedly realizing that three steps ahead was a suddenly appearing barrier.

This barrier seemed extremely familiar, looking like…

Someone slowly floated out from the cave dwelling, thinly dressed yet adorned with exquisite gold and silver ornaments, jewelry jingling to draw attention.

Su Hansheng was stunned.

The Silver-Carved Lamp?

The Silver-Carved Lamp remained beautiful, but that beauty was accompanied by complete exhaustion of life force, her eyes devoid of light, like the dead ashes when lamp oil runs out.

She floated barefoot in midair, slightly bowing her head like a wooden puppet being controlled.

From behind her, five Daoist cultivators in auspicious cloud-patterned robes slowly emerged. The leading man had an immortal bearing, respectfully bowing to Zhuang Lingge.

“We mean no harm—we only wish to ask the Eldest Young Master to graciously donate dragon blood as lamp oil to extend the Silver-Carved Lamp’s lifespan.”

Su Hansheng, hiding within his companion tree’s protection, was stunned.

They spoke so nicely—”ask,” “graciously donate”—yet wanted the incomparably precious blood of a sacred object.

Truly sanctimonious hypocrites.

Zhuang Lingge remained aloof from worldly matters, but that didn’t mean he was a fool. He gazed coldly at the five people below: “Trespassing into Wendao Academy, coveting sacred object blood—it seems the Silver-Carved Lamp has truly reached the end of her lifespan to make you risk this.”

“The Eldest Young Master jests.” The leading man smiled: “As sacred objects both bestowed by Heaven’s Dao, your duty is to stabilize the Buzhou Immortal Mountain’s Heaven-Reaching Tower. If the Silver-Carved Lamp falls, Heaven’s Dao will angrily recall the other three sacred objects as well, waiting for the next millennium. Then you…”

Zhuang Lingge was cold as frost: “The Gong family truly has everything planned out.”

The man acted as if he couldn’t hear Zhuang Lingge’s cold mockery, even smiling as he said: “The Eldest Young Master praises us too highly. We left our clan and family twenty years ago—we’re merely a branch family of the Gong clan and dare not take responsibility for the Gong family name.”

Su Hansheng looked over in surprise.

A branch family of the Gong clan?

Looking closely, the Silver-Carved Lamp’s extraordinarily beautiful face indeed bore some resemblance to Gong Fuqu.

The Silver-Carved Lamp remained expressionless throughout, only when hearing the character “Gong” did her eyes flicker like a candle flame suddenly extinguished then reignited.

After the man finished speaking, he bowed respectfully and said indifferently: “Handan, retrieve the lamp oil.”

The Silver-Carved Lamp’s pupils suddenly turned cold as dead ash. Like a controlled puppet, she expressionlessly manifested countless spider-silk-like threads from her hands, shooting straight toward Zhuang Lingge.

…Obeying orders to forcibly extract dragon blood as lamp oil.

When two Spirit Transformation stage sacred objects fought, someone of Su Hansheng’s cultivation wasn’t even enough to withstand a gust of their wind. He immediately secretly tried to burrow underground and escape.

Suddenly, an invisible force yanked Su Hansheng out from the dead branches. After a dizzy spin, he floated over.

Su Hansheng: “…”

The leading man’s eyes narrowed. The vast ocean-like spiritual power of Spirit Transformation stage forcibly restrained Su Hansheng. His pupils were strange, as if examining something, staring straight at Su Hansheng’s eyes.

Seeing Su Hansheng bound by illusory chains, Zhuang Lingge’s golden dragon pupils suddenly contracted to thin slits.

“Hansheng!”

Su Hansheng had suffered an undeserved calamity. The prayer beads Chongjue had forcibly placed on his wrist suddenly flashed with spiritual power.

Young Lord Su was grabbed like a chick and suspended beside the Silver-Carved Lamp. Extremely embarrassed, he flailed twice in the cage of intertwined chains and, finding he couldn’t break free, could only squeeze out a smile and say dryly: “Sis… Sister, what a coincidence.”

The Silver-Carved Lamp: “…”

***

Two li away at the Buddhist hall.

Chongjue had just finished carving the protective prohibition on the last prayer bead. Looking down at that string of glass prayer beads for a long time, not knowing what he was thinking, he again held his forehead with a headache.

The little novice monk knelt beside him pouring tea. Seeing this, he said quietly: “World-Honored One, you’ve worn this string of prayer beads for thousands of years, haven’t you? Carving protective prohibitions on them—are you giving them to someone?”

Chongjue made an “mm” sound, placing the glass prayer beads in a jade box and giving cold instructions: “Early tomorrow morning, deliver them to Falling Parasol Lodge to Young Lord Su.”

The little novice monk was stunned, said “oh,” and respectfully accepted them. He always felt that the World-Honored One, who didn’t involve himself in worldly matters, seemed to have gained more human warmth because of that noisy young lord.

“You…” The little novice monk couldn’t help himself: “If the Young Lord comes again tomorrow, wouldn’t it be perfect for you to give them to him personally?”

Chongjue said indifferently: “He’s been rebuffed—he probably won’t come again for a while.”

He understood that youth’s temperament clearly. Appearing gentle and obedient, his temper was actually foul and stubborn, responding to kindness but not force.

Moreover, today he hadn’t come with sincere intentions.

First, he’d come for that dragon in Red Maple Forest. Second, he’d wanted to proudly mock his uncle about yesterday’s drunken incident. Full of mischief without an ounce of sincerity.

Better not to see him.

The little novice monk felt the World-Honored One’s words were a bit strange, but didn’t dare speculate further. He was holding the box about to leave.

Suddenly, the meditating Chongjue seemed to discover something. His brows furrowed tightly as he said in a low voice:

“…Presumptuous.”

The little novice monk was startled and looked back in confusion, only seeing wisps of smoke remaining on the meditation cushion.

—Chongjue had already disappeared from the Buddhist hall without a trace.

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