Chapter 23: All Over the Body

Wenren Sheng was like a live shrimp tossed onto a barbecue grill. He instantly sucked back the tears that were about to spill out, bounced straight down from He Mu’s arms, turned his back, and covered his cheeks.

Just now, he had been coquettish toward He Mu, throwing a tantrum and being completely unreasonable…

And all of it had been…

Seen by… seen by… seen?!

Wenren Sheng’s head practically smoked. If he weren’t unable to shift back to his original form in front of everyone right then, he would have drilled a hole right into the ground and hidden there for life.

He Mu coughed awkwardly, forcibly dragged Wenren Sheng back over, and explained dryly: “He… uh, he got scared just now. He’s always been timid and loves to cry, so it’s normal.”

“Just now you said you missed your master and clan leader,” he tugged at Wenren Sheng and asked, lowering his head. “Why cover your eyes now and refuse to see them?”

Only then did Wenren Sheng part his fingers a little and cautiously peeked at his master and clan leader.

Surprisingly, neither showed any disgust on their faces.

Wenren Jing held the rabbit in his arms and looked him up and down, as if appraising some exquisite treasure. His eyes brimmed with surprise and curiosity toward him.

Even Yi Jinxiang, who usually wore a stern face, now carried a gentle expression of reunion after a long separation, without a trace of impatience.

Yi Jinxiang shook her fan and said helplessly: “Fine. You’ve been in seclusion so long; I’ll let you act spoiled today. I’ll just pretend I saw nothing.”

Wenren Sheng slowly lowered his hand and woodenly looked up at He Mu.

He hesitated and asked: “Have I changed a lot?”

He Mu shook his head. “Can’t tell.”

Not much change…

That meant everything was the same as before. Nothing had changed, right?

Wenren Sheng’s eyes lit up in an instant. All the gloom and worry from moments ago vanished completely.

He bounced in place twice, then pounced forward and hugged Yi Jinxiang in one go.

“Master, hello!”

Before Yi Jinxiang could react, Wenren Sheng released the hug and dashed toward Wenren Jing. He bent down slightly and gently embraced the elderly clan leader.

“Clan leader, hello!”

Finally, he planted a kiss on the rabbit in the clan leader’s palm, patted its head lightly, and said: “Hello there. I’m your big brother.”

Wenren Jing was a short old man. After five years away, Wenren Sheng had grown much taller than him.

While Wenren Sheng remained bent over, Wenren Jing reached out to stroke his long hair and chuckled with deep emotion:

“Your hair has grown so long. Those clothes on you… are they the ones from the Mountain God?”

Wenren Sheng spun back to He Mu’s side like he was dancing, hands proudly on his waist.

“Aren’t I handsome?” he said. “This is the look of the future world’s number one sword cultivator. Clan leader, take a good look and memorize it.”

He Mu leaned toward him and teased softly: “Then should I memorize the way you clung to me and wouldn’t let go just now?”

!

Wenren Sheng shuddered at once.

He instantly dropped his smug look and glared angrily at He Mu.

“Of course—”

“Of course?”

“Of course not!”

He shouted that line, grabbed his master and clan leader, and bolted off while yelling, “I’m ignoring the Mountain God for a whole hour!” In the blink of an eye, he was gone.

Left behind, He Mu propped his waist with one hand, sighed helplessly, and said: “What a handful.”

But it was strange. This little demon was clearly a wolf demon, yet his looks grew prettier and prettier. His eye color was also exceptionally unique—nothing like the features of Xiang City folk.

He Mu stroked his chin and muttered: “Could it be I saw wrong? Not a wolf demon, but a fox demon…”

At that thought, Color Kill floated out right on cue and swayed in front of He Mu, as if wanting to say something.

He Mu, lost in thought, glanced at Color Kill and flicked it casually.

“What’s it to you.”

Coming out of seclusion so late today, the planned welcome banquet got postponed to tomorrow. That left plenty of free time that night.

Wenren Sheng excitedly dashed two laps around the Divine Temple. He flung open nearly every tightly shut door to peek inside, checking for changes from his memories.

He Mu had nothing better to do, so he carried his sword and trailed after the rampaging little wolf, patiently waiting until he had rummaged through every inch of the vast Divine Temple.

Finally spent, Wenren Sheng flopped straight onto the ground. He panted nonstop while muttering: “So tired, so tired.”

“Tired and still running?” He Mu strolled over leisurely and looked down at him. “Seen everything now?”

Wenren Sheng let out a long breath and nodded. “All done.”

He Mu bent down and asked: “Notice anything special?”

Wenren Sheng blinked, counted on his fingers like reciting treasures: “More books in the Scripture Pavilion. The statues got wiped clean again. My room is spotless and smells nice. Lots of rabbits living northeast. Southwest side’s warmer—probably where master stays…”

After rattling it all off, he flashed He Mu a dopey grin. “Oh, and the Mountain God. You got handsomer.”

The claim had zero basis.

Once any cultivator entered the Golden Core Realm, their body and looks stopped developing. He Mu had ascended centuries ago—his appearance was fixed forever, unchanging even after millennia.

But Wenren Sheng just felt the Mountain God was somehow different.

He couldn’t say exactly where, but his heart and eyes overflowed with him. He wished he could shrink to the size of that little rabbit in the clan leader’s palm and ride on the Mountain God’s shoulder every day.

At the thought, Wenren Sheng couldn’t resist stealing a couple more glances at He Mu.

When he realized He Mu was staring right back, Wenren Sheng felt a pang of guilt and quickly blinked his gaze away.

“…Why keep staring at me?” Wenren Sheng cried thief first. “No flower blooming on my face.”

He Mu smiled and scraped Wenren Sheng’s cheek with his knuckle. “Watching how pretty you are.”

“Pretty?” Wenren Sheng said. “I don’t want pretty. I want to be a super handsome hero.”

“Didn’t say you’re not handsome.” He Mu scratched his chin. “Sweaty? Come to the mountain spring with me today. You’ve soaked in icy water five years—I’ll help dispel the cold qi.”

Wenren Sheng shot straight up.

“Hot spring soak?” He beamed. “Count me in!”

He Mu pulled him along. “Back to your room for stuff. Soapberries and scents are there.”

Wenren Sheng’s energy surged back instantly.

He jumped up, rushed to his room, grabbed his bathing robe and towel into a small wooden basin, then followed He Mu to the mountain spring.

The mountain spring was a hot pool on Fragrant Ze Mountain’s north side—a spot He Mu had built himself a century ago. From the mountain gate, follow a secluded wild path, then another few dozen li down.

Wenren Sheng parted the bamboo leaves for a peek. Inside was a steamy Waterside Pavilion. Massive rocks ringed a hot spring pool, all hazy and dreamlike—like some hidden paradise.

He Mu shed his upper clothes first and sat by the pool edge. He beckoned Wenren Sheng.

“Your spiritual flow is seriously stagnant. I’ll unblock your meridians first. Get in—not cold.”

“Ah,” Wenren Sheng said. “Don’t look yet.”

This time, He Mu didn’t turn away right off. Propping his cheek, he eyed Wenren Sheng. “Why always make me turn?”

Wenren Sheng huffed. “Because I’m fifteen now.”

“Feeling shy?” He Mu teased. “I raised you. How come I can’t look anymore?”

Wenren Sheng shot back: “You only raised me one year. Last five, I grew myself.”

Retort aside, Wenren Sheng shuffled over slowly. He undid his belt, shed his outer robe, then his middle layer.

He Mu stopped staring. He eyed the clothes piling on the ground. Rustling silk sounds rose, layers stacking higher.

Somehow, the noise unsettled him.

He Mu rubbed his forehead and just closed his eyes.

…

Wenren Sheng stripped to his innermost layer and finally went fully bare. He slid into the hot spring like a dumpling plopping into the pot, sending up a tiny splash.

He Mu stayed out. He scooted behind Wenren Sheng and twisted all his hair into a simple bun.

“After waking today, any change in your Heavenly Spiritual Root?” He Mu asked while working.

Wenren Sheng’s eyes darted. “Doesn’t seem so… Just hungrier. Could eat tons.”

He Mu smiled. “Your spirit root was damaged before, body delicate. Hunger now is normal.”

Wenren Sheng didn’t see himself as delicate. At ten, with half a spirit root, he’d slain a Mahayana Realm sword cultivator with a single blade—that was pure genius hero material.

But he let it slide with He Mu. He splashed water idly instead.

“What do I do for unblocking meridians?” He struck a tai chi pose, all excited. “Like, sink qi to dantian and circulate through the heavens?”

He Mu behind him rolled up his sleeves.

“Nothing. Just hurts a bit. Can you take it?”

Wenren Sheng nodded with full confidence. “Of course. I’m super tough—”

A dull ache hit the back of his neck midsentence, cutting him off.

“Urgh!”

He Mu pressed an acupoint on his spine with one hand. With deft force, he blasted open the first blocked meridian.

Wenren Sheng felt no thrill of smooth spiritual power. That pain shot along nerves through his whole body. He yelled out.

“Ow, hurts!”

He Mu seemed deaf to the cry. His fingertip trailed the shallow groove down Wenren Sheng’s back to the next acupoint.

The move made Wenren Sheng shudder hard. One hand clawed the pool edge; he arched his back without thinking.

“Wait—wait,” he panicked. “I haven’t… urgh!”

Words barely out, He Mu pressed again. The force wasn’t heavy, but Wenren Sheng felt bones and tendons go numb—aching, sour.

Straighten? No. Bow? No. He whined and writhed like a live fish desperate to flee.

Helpless—He Mu pinned him solid. No budging.

He regretted that “super tough” line big time!

“Hiss—” Wenren Sheng panted in short gasps, forcing words through clenched teeth: “…Done? Ha—I feel the meridians open already. No more…”

He Mu knew exactly if they were open.

No helping it. He Mu knew Wenren Sheng’s body inside out. Anyone else would’ve suffered far worse.

“Almost, almost done,” He Mu coaxed patiently. “Hang in there, okay, Shengsheng the great hero?”

Pain-tears welled in Wenren Sheng’s eyes. Hearing “great hero,” he clamped his lip and forced an “Mm” from his throat.

He Mu broke a sweat, hit the third acupoint.

“Almost done” was a total lie, naturally.

Unblocking meridians took at least an hour or two.

He lied over and over. Teary-eyed, Wenren Sheng bought it every time. Face flushed red at the end, he never uttered a peep.

Over an hour later, He Mu checked his pulse. All meridians clear.

Any cultivation from here would be effortless.

He Mu exhaled in relief and stood. His gaze landed on Wenren Sheng’s back.

Post-session, glaring red marks dotted the boy’s tender skin—scattered across shoulders and neck. Pitiful sight.

He Mu meant to scoop him up for comfort. But right then, he recalled that daytime fixation: the faint mole.

So curious. Where’d it come from?

He searched behind Wenren Sheng’s neck and found it quick.

Fair skin made the mole stand out, right beside his own fingerprint—precariously placed.

“Could it be… from the Heavenly Spiritual Root?”

He Mu pondered, stroking his chin.

A Heavenly Spiritual Root was rare in the world. Left dormant in Wenren Sheng, Heavenly Court wouldn’t detect it.

Tampered with? That spelled trouble.

…

Up front, teary-eyed Wenren Sheng pitifully rubbed his shoulders and back. Inwardly, he cursed “Hate the Mountain God” and “Hate him to death” ten thousand times.

But talk was cheap—he knew full well this was the necessary path of cultivation, something one had to endure to become a great hero.

After suffering through it, Wenren Sheng always wanted to act spoiled with He Mu and have him carry him back.

“I can’t walk anymore,” Wenren Sheng said euphemistically. “I might have to stay here all night. Mountain God, you head home first.”

But this time, he received no reply from the Mountain God. It was utterly silent behind him.

“Mountain God?” Wenren Sheng called out again. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”