Just as Wenren Sheng wanted to open his mouth to call out again, he suddenly felt a hand touch the back of his neck.
Wenren Sheng shivered from He Mu’s action and instinctively reached up to touch his own nape.
When he looked at his palm, aside from the water stains left from splashing and struggling earlier, he found nothing unusual.
“Are you petting me like a little dog?” Wenren Sheng frowned and muttered. “The Mountain God is so mean.”
He Mu waded out of the water beside him and teased offhandedly, “You sounded just like a little dog calling out earlier.”
“I didn’t call out.” Wenren Sheng was stubborn.
He was just afraid of pain, not some coward fleeing from battle. Besides, after He Mu coaxed him a couple of times, he had obediently stopped shouting. Wenren Sheng felt he had done particularly well.
On the other hand, the Mountain God… he hadn’t held back at all just now!
With that thought, Wenren Sheng couldn’t help feeling a bit indignant. “If the Mountain God disliked my shouting being too loud, why couldn’t he have gone easier on me?”
“I didn’t dislike it at all,” He Mu said innocently. “Your cries sounded nice. I loved listening to them. Don’t overthink it.”
Wenren Sheng thus scooted forward a bit and narrowed his eyes at He Mu.
“—Really?”
He Mu also leaned his head down closer, rubbing their noses together, and whispered, “Really. Very cute.”
Wenren Sheng was particularly easy to coax. After He Mu said that, his displeasure quickly vanished like smoke in thin air. He even tilted his head back, cupped He Mu’s face, and planted two quick pecks on it.
“Fine then, I forgive you!”
After kissing him, Wenren Sheng flashed He Mu a brilliant smile and generously pointed to his own cheek.
“As a reward, you can kiss me once too.”
He Mu lowered his gaze to look at Wenren Sheng. The curve of those peach blossom eyes as they bent was beautiful, and the color in their depths was clear and pure, like a glass bead.
For such a beautiful person, one kiss really did count as a reward.
He Mu let out a soft sigh. His hand threaded through Wenren Sheng’s hair and cupped the side of his face as he leaned down to plant a light kiss on the spot of his tear mole.
“There,” He Mu said as he wiped the corner of Wenren Sheng’s eye. “One kiss. I’m not greedy.”
…
Wenren Sheng blinked in a daze.
He—he kissed him—
On the eyes?!
Though he had asked for it himself, He Mu’s kiss like that made Wenren Sheng embarrassed instead.
He hurriedly lowered his head, his face flushing red as he silently shifted half a step to the side, putting some distance between him and He Mu.
He Mu raised a brow. “Feeling shy?”
“What,” Wenren Sheng muttered as he sank a bit lower into the water, avoiding his gaze. “Who kisses like that…”
Only then did He Mu realize with hindsight that his action from earlier had been a bit too forward.
It wasn’t unreasonable for Wenren Sheng to question him. Usually, when He Mu kissed Wenren Sheng, or when Wenren Sheng kissed him, it was always munching and nibbling on cheeks—they were long used to it.
But just now, He Mu didn’t know what had come over him. His first instinct wasn’t to kiss the cheek but instead went for the spot with those two tear moles on Wenren Sheng.
That was… too intimate.
He Mu scratched his cheek and said, “If it made you uncomfortable, I apologize, Shengsheng.”
His apology only made Wenren Sheng even more shy. He hurriedly shoved at He Mu’s shoulder and said in a fluster, “Fine, you’re forgiven now. Hurry and turn around!”
He Mu asked in confusion, “Why do I need to turn around again?”
“I—I’ll help you—with that… massage!” Wenren Sheng came up with it on the spot. “Like earlier, to clear your meridians. Right!”
He clumsily pushed He Mu away. Only when He Mu finally turned around with half-believing doubt did Wenren Sheng let out a breath of relief.
Good thing, good thing—he didn’t let him see his ears turning completely red!
Seriously, ever since the heavenly spiritual root returned to his body, why did he blush so easily now?
Especially from that one kiss from the Mountain God just now—his heart had nearly stopped, and his face had burned so hot it was like a furnace.
If not for already being soaked in the hot spring which had reddened his skin, He Mu definitely would have noticed and definitely would have teased him for having thin skin!
He Mu waited up ahead for a moment before urging, “Weren’t you going to help clear my meridians? Why aren’t you doing anything?”
“Oh… oh!”
Wenren Sheng hurriedly started randomly pressing on He Mu’s back with his utterly haphazard massage techniques.
As he pressed, he recalled the painful ordeal of being tormented by He Mu earlier. A surge of anger rose in his heart, and he began pinching and kneading vengefully.
Unfortunately, He Mu felt nothing.
Wenren Sheng’s movements were soft and powerless, like being stepped on by a kitten’s paw pads. It only felt ticklish and amusing—he could never cry out as heart-wrenchingly or shed tears streaming down his face like Wenren Sheng had.
He shifted his shoulders and said, “Immortals are made of stone. Next time, bring an axe. Maybe then I’ll cry out like you.”
“An axe?!”
Wenren Sheng startled and dodged backward.
He knew the Mountain God was powerful, but he hadn’t expected him to be so utterly invulnerable—not even a blade could harm him?
That was just…
So cool!
Wenren Sheng immediately cast aside all his earlier grievances. His eyes sparkled as he chased after him with questions. “So—so—so, what dao do you have to cultivate to become like that? Invulnerable to blades and spears, indestructible like diamond, invincible under heaven?”
“Well…”
He Mu casually plucked a bamboo leaf from the pool, pinched it between his fingers, aimed at a tree stump not far away, and flicked it with a hook of his hand.
With a whoosh, the bamboo leaf sliced through the air like a sharp blade and embedded itself right in the center of the stump, sinking three inches deep!
“Whoa!” Wenren Sheng exclaimed in awe. “I know, I’ve seen it in storybooks. That’s called Pluck Leaf Fly Flower!”
“Do you still want to become a sword cultivator?” He Mu said. “If you do, we’ll start martial training tomorrow.”
Wenren Sheng’s movements paused as he tentatively asked, “Do we start with sword flight?”
He Mu laughed at him. “Coward.”
“I’m not a coward!”
Wenren Sheng huffed twice, turned his head away, and ignored He Mu.
A moment later, he sneaked a peek from over He Mu’s shoulder with a pair of eyes and said softly,
“…I do!”
Wenren Sheng was a man of action. The next day at mao hour, he showed up right on time at the Divine Temple’s Martial Practice Field, dressed in a qi condensation robe.
This area hadn’t existed before. A few years ago, Yi Jinxiang had “supposedly” created it out of boredom, but in truth, it was specifically for Wenren Sheng to use after emerging from seclusion to learn martial arts.
She was a scholar and didn’t like roughhousing in her daily life. Originally, she had planned to groom Wenren Sheng as her successor.
But this silly child kept babbling about becoming some legendary hero or great xia in the future. She heard it so much that she got swept up in it too, and before she knew it, she had the idea to build a martial practice field near the Mountain God Temple.
As a result, the Divine Temple no longer looked like one—it resembled a proper immortal sect.
But Wenren Sheng loved it. That morning, after paying respects to Yi Jinxiang, he had sweetly thanked her several times before coming to the Martial Practice Field to find He Mu.
He Mu was also wearing a qi condensation robe today, black and white interwoven—the exact opposite colors of Wenren Sheng’s outfit.
He held two ordinary iron swords in his hands. When Wenren Sheng arrived, he tossed one to him.
“Whoa!”
Wenren Sheng hurriedly stepped forward and caught it with both hands.
The iron sword was quite heavy, but lighter than Color Kill. Wenren Sheng could hold it with one hand.
He picked up the sword and, mimicking the way he remembered He Mu wielding one, swung it around on the spot, striking several handsome poses.
Finally, he looked at He Mu with eyes full of expectation.
“How was that?”
He Mu nodded. “Impressive.”
Wenren Sheng immediately cheered and jumped for joy, circling around He Mu twice before pouncing on him from behind in a hug.
“Then I want a sword as cool as Color Kill too,” Wenren Sheng chattered on. “And my sword will be good friends with Color Kill.”
“I’ve already got a name for it: Void-Shattering Endless Calamity-Cleaving… uh… World’s Number One Divine Sword!”
He Mu couldn’t endorse his naming sense. He lightly flicked Wenren Sheng’s forehead and said,
“Name it something like that, and by the time you shout it out, the enemy will have already struck.”
“Ah?” Wenren Sheng clutched his forehead. “But the Mountain God never shouts his sword’s name when he uses it.”
“Color Kill has been with me for centuries, so of course there’s no need,” He Mu said as he stood behind Wenren Sheng and adjusted his sword stance for him. “Once your sword ascends with you, you’ll be able to do it too.”
That said, with the heavenly spiritual root’s power, Wenren Sheng might even be able to summon it wordlessly without ascending.
Five years ago at the Return to One Sword Sect, Wenren Sheng had done it once.
Wenren Sheng felt He Mu’s breath behind him, and his heart tightened. He instinctively straightened his back.
Focus, Wenren Sheng.
He took a deep breath, slowly gathered his mind, and began concentrating on the iron sword in his hand.
He Mu wasn’t harsh in teaching him swordsmanship. If Wenren Sheng wanted to rest, he wouldn’t refuse.
But this kid held himself to high standards. On the first day of sword practice, he insisted on gritting his teeth and persisting, not even thinking about lunch. He swung the sword from mao hour straight through to shen hour.
By the end of the day, Wenren Sheng’s arms could no longer move.
The bruises left from clearing his meridians the day before had also worsened because of it. By evening, Wenren Sheng couldn’t even lie down to sleep—his entire back felt like it had been scorched by fire, hurting with the slightest touch.
“Wu—”
Wenren Sheng lay prone on the bed, teary-eyed as he bit the pillow, his hands pounding the mattress nonstop.
“Ow… it hurts, hurts, hurts!”
“Does it hurt this much?” He Mu, straddling behind him, paused the hand that was about to apply the medicine mid-air. “I just barely touched it. Haven’t even spread it yet.”
Wenren Sheng buried his face in the bedding and whimpered, “It hurts like you’re peeling the skin off!”
It looked like the medicine wasn’t going on after all.
He Mu sighed. He propped himself up on the bed surface and leaned in a bit closer to comfort him. “Then you sleep first. Rest tomorrow. Once it doesn’t hurt anymore, I’ll apply the medicine for you, okay?”
…
Hearing He Mu’s words, Wenren Sheng finally quieted down.
He lifted his head slightly from the bedding, his brows furrowed together in an expression of extreme distress.
His back itched and ached, and his arms felt like they’d been dislocated—moving them pulled pain through his whole body.
If asked whether he wanted to rest, Wenren Sheng wished he could sleep for three days straight and never get out of bed again.
But without the sword, cultivation had no meaning.
Wenren Sheng was silent for a moment before hugging the bedding beneath him and mumbled,
“…Tell me a story, Mountain God, coax me a bit. I can endure it.”
He Mu lay down on his side, propping his head as he looked at him.
“Sure. Whose story do you want to hear? Anyone from heaven or earth, any immortal sect—pick one.”
Wenren Sheng also turned his face sideways, blinking obediently at He Mu.
“Yours,” he said. “I want to know why the Mountain God chose to learn the sword, why he chose to become a sword cultivator.”
Wenren Sheng had so much curiosity about He Mu. In the past, it was a child’s admiration for a lone hero. Now, perhaps there were a few other feelings mixed in. In any case, he was curious, wanted to know—the Mountain God’s stories were never tiresome.
He Mu curved his eyes and tucked the quilt around Wenren Sheng. “Alright, but this story isn’t very romantic. You really want to hear it?”
Wenren Sheng adjusted his prone position, closed his eyes, and nodded vigorously.
He Mu thus began, “I chose to pick up the sword because—”
“Hu…”
Before he finished the sentence, the sound of Wenren Sheng’s light, even breathing rose beside He Mu’s ear.
The kid had been so exhausted that he fell asleep the moment he closed his eyes, without even waiting to listen.
…
Fine.
He Mu smiled helplessly and lay down fully, lightly stroking Wenren Sheng’s hair.
Why pick up the sword?
If asked about He Mu’s original intent in becoming a sword cultivator, it wasn’t out of great love for swords—it was because swords were free.
Whether entering the jianghu or cultivating for ascension, every choice he made had those two words as his baseline.
Hundreds of years ago, when He Mu ascended to immortality and was conferred the title of Cangyu True Monarch, the Heavenly Court wanted to assign him a “fief” in the mortal world and establish a god temple there.
He didn’t choose the prosperous lands favored by the Martial God, nor the blessed cave heavens teeming with sects. He alone selected the obscure little hill of Fragrant Ze Mountain, all so he could remain free and unfettered even after ascending, without being bound day and night to a tiny plot of land.
But over these years, that idea had subtly changed.
He Mu’s fingertip slowly trailed over Wenren Sheng’s earlobe, down his nape, and finally touched that faint mole.
At the same time, Wenren Sheng—whose transformation technique had half-unraveled—mumbled a few words in his sleep and lightly twitched his wolf ears.
The bargaining chip he used for the exchange was this: as long as this stele inscription remained, his heart would forever be trapped in nothingness. He would almost never feel affection for anyone, nor could he personally express any emotions.
Back then, he had thought it was the most worthwhile deal imaginable.
But now, He Mu faintly sensed a certain premonition—
That sooner or later, he would pay the price for the “freedom” he had chosen back then.
