Chapter 73

The next day, blazing clouds emerged from the rolling cloud layers.

When Wen Liuhe woke up, he only felt soreness in his waist and back. Two kinds of auras rampaged through his limbs and bones, causing his meridians to throb with pain.

Wen Liuhe abruptly sat up from the bed, veins bulging on his hands as he gripped the edge of the bed tightly. A terrifying arc pressed out from beneath the youth’s gloomy brow bones. Only after he clearly saw his surroundings did the murderous intent hidden in his brows and eyes gradually dissipate.

This was a simple side room. From the faint herbal fragrance floating in his nostrils, he judged that he was still near the Medicine Field.

Wen Liuhe curled his fingers and gradually felt two completely opposing forces wandering through his body. Neither would yield to the other, forming a standoff that reached a delicate balance.

This was… immortal-demon dual cultivation?

He hadn’t exploded and died on the spot. Wen Liuhe raised his brows in surprise, but he quickly put these matters aside.

After understanding his own feelings, the most urgent task before Wen Liuhe was how to win over his master.

Wen Liuhe reached out and touched his chin, feeling more and more that something was off. His brows furrowed deeply.

Tch, this didn’t seem easy to conquer at all.

Thus, that day, the Long Water Platform welcomed a rare guest.

A piercing chill flashed with the sound of breaking air. Xu Buchan swiftly sheathed his sword and looked up at the tall youth leaning against a pine tree with his arms crossed.

Xu Buchan’s expression was as cold as ice, and his voice was as cold as ice. Only the subtle flicker in his eyes revealed a hint of his bewilderment.

After listening to Wen Liuhe’s words, he pursed his lips and summarized, “So, Senior Brother is here to consult me on how to be a good disciple?” Wen Liuhe had entered the sect a few seconds earlier than Xu Buchan, thus claiming the title of senior brother.

Xu Buchan and Gu Changqing could be called paragons of the Cultivation World in their generation. At first, Wen Liuhe thought he might come over to learn from them, but the moment he heard Xu Buchan’s voice, he knew he had asked the wrong person.

The man before him was clearly the nailed-down heir of the Emotionless Dao. Even if the king of heaven or his father came, no one could make this man feel emotions.

If he consulted Xu Buchan, it would probably only solidify their master-disciple relationship further, trapping him forever in those rigid rules and boundaries.

“Forget it. I’ll go ask someone else.”

Wen Liuhe frowned and made to leave, but Xu Buchan called out to him.

“Wait.”

Xu Buchan recalled the little details of his time with Gu Changqing. He was emotionally obtuse, but every time his master personally guided his hand to hold the sword, Xu Buchan felt their relationship grow much closer.

Thus, Xu Buchan pursed his lips and said quietly, “Perhaps, Senior Brother, you could try physical contact?”

Wen Liuhe eyed him suspiciously. “Body contact?”

Upon hearing that keyword, all sorts of vivid and fragrant scenes flashed through Wen Liuhe’s mind, and his ear roots couldn’t help but redden slightly.

The youth raised his hand and bit his lower lip as he pinched his ear, unable to hold back.

Damn, was the progress going to be this fast?

But—

Wen Liuhe’s eyes darted around.

It wasn’t impossible.

Xu Buchan wanted to say more, but he saw the youth before him suddenly seem to have an epiphany. His face showed a look of sudden realization. His expression changed unpredictably, just as mysteriously as when he arrived, and he hurriedly stepped onto his flying sword and left the Long Water Platform.

What had happened?

A cold wind blew. Gu Changqing came from the back peak and saw Wen Liuhe’s hurriedly departing figure, the Broken Sword’s tail trailing a flamboyant white meteor through the air.

Gu Changqing raised a brow, a puzzled look on his face, and asked Xu Buchan, “Why was he in such a hurry?”

Xu Buchan deftly took out an outer robe from his Storage Pouch and draped it over Gu Changqing’s shoulders. He withdrew his hand, pursed his lips, and said, “Senior Brother seems to have something to discuss with Uncle Shen Yu, so he left in a rush.”

Clouds rolled from his sleeves. Wen Liuhe was unaware of their subsequent conversation. He prepared to implement his grand operation to pursue his master the moment he landed, but upon returning to Question Sword Peak, he was met with a closed door.

Shen Yu sat in meditation, and suddenly, he had an epiphany about his Dao heart.

Through the window crack, he saw the immortal seated cross-legged on the bed. Cascading black hair draped onto the bed, snow-white undergarments clinging to his upper body, outlining his figure indistinctly. The overlapping collar at his chest formed a sharp triangular shape, revealing a small section of pristine white skin.

Wen Liuhe’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and he narrowed his eyes slightly. This person tempted him every day with such disheveled clothes—it wasn’t his fault for lacking self-control. Anyone who didn’t feel stirred would be the strange one.

But for now, he could only look and not touch. Wen Liuhe gnashed his teeth in frustration and quietly climbed onto the windowsill, propping his chin as he stared unblinkingly at Shen Yu.

Shen Yu: 【……】

System: 【……】

Because this world’s Heavenly Dao will was very strong, ever since they arrived many years ago, the man and the system had been extremely cautious, tacitly ceasing almost all communication.

But at this moment, Wen Liuhe’s gaze was so tangible that it was hard not to notice.

Shen Yu steadied his breathing, increasingly feeling that this master-disciple line was going off track.

He exhaled, stopped overthinking, circulated his spiritual power throughout his body, and comprehended his Dao heart.

After two fruitless days, it reached the point for going down the mountain to train.

This year’s Sword Trial Assembly was set at Cloud Heaven Gate three months later. The Taichu Sect had a custom of sending participating disciples down the mountain to train before the event.

On the day of departure, Wen Liuhe dawdled as he packed his bundle. He drew the Broken Sword from his Sword Bone, then sheathed it again, drew it once more, and sheathed it again…

The Lifebound Sword was sentient. After this repeated several times, the sharp blade couldn’t help but vibrate twice in dissatisfaction.

Sensing the Lifebound Sword’s protest, Wen Liuhe sighed and shuffled step by step down the verdant stairs, stopping at the mountain gate of Question Sword Peak.

Mountain mist swirled like clouds. At the Sword Stele before the gate stood a majestic stone sword, waiting for its moment, blunt to others but sharp to itself, sheathed to guard Taichu, unsheathed to suppress evil.

Wen Liuhe stared boredly at the seal script on the long sword, reciting it back and forth in his mind dozens of times until the characters seemed to flow in his head. Only then did he finally hear that familiar call.

“Liuhe.”

Strangely, a name that had seemed utterly ordinary before now carried a special flavor.

Wen Liuhe pivoted on his toes and turned around to see the white-clothed immortal hurrying through the clouds and mist, like a heavy snowfall descending into the verdant mountains and waters.

The man’s ink-black hair was like clouds, casually tied with a long silk ribbon fluttering in the wind. His lips always carried a smile, and now they gently curved upward, his brows and eyes holding a faint amusement, just as when they first met.

Such a great beauty striding quickly down the verdant stone steps toward you was like falling from the clouds into the mortal world just for you alone—gazing at you, smiling at you, even calling your name with a smile.

Even a stubborn stone should have been enlightened, sprouting a seven-orifice exquisite flower.

Wen Liuhe’s heart raced instantly. He hurriedly took several steps forward, his gaze shifting to capture the wound on Shen Yu’s palm. Seeing that it had healed, a large stone finally fell from his heart.

The medicine ointment from his martial uncle really worked well.

As soon as Shen Yu stepped down the final stone step, Wen Liuhe impatiently pulled him into an embrace. The youth’s fervent arms encircled his master’s slender waist, his palms sliding to his back.

Rather than two arms, it was more like two coiling pythons.

His scorching palms pressed against his waist and back through the thin fabric. Even separated by a layer of cloth, that texture adsorbed Wen Liuhe’s touch like a magnet.

Wen Liuhe tightened his arms inch by inch, wishing he could rub Shen Yu into his body. So close, their chests pressed and rose and fell together with resilient flexibility, breaths mingling, heartbeats overlapping, nearly fusing as one.

Wen Liuhe thought that if this person stabbed through his heart with a sword right now, he would do so willingly.

Heaven, he had become the fool from those storybooks.

Shen Yu was held by him. His gaze dropped, then swept to his hair tips, discovering that his disciple had grown quite a bit taller. His heart was filled with mixed joy and worry, a sense of accomplishment like “my son has finally grown up.”

Wen Liuhe closed his eyes and buried his head in Shen Yu’s shoulder, lowering his head to deeply inhale his scent.

If only time could stop at this moment.

It had been fine earlier, but this series of actions increasingly didn’t match Shen Yu’s understanding of Wen Liuhe.

The youth’s breath sprinkled on his neck. Shen Yu raised a brow slightly and thought to himself, could this be the legendary fledgling leaving the nest complex?

After all, since Wen Liuhe entered Question Sword Peak, this was the first time he would be leaving for so long. Shen Yu recalled his own first time leaving Changliu to attend the Sword Trial Assembly—didn’t he have such feelings back then?

Should he respond now?

The mountain gate was vermilion red, slick verdant stairs stretching upward from it, the return path dissipating into the clouds and mist.

Before the Sword Stele, fierce long winds blew, robes fluttering. Shen Yu let the youth hold him tightly, amused in his heart by his inexperienced actions.

As expected, no matter how unruly and arrogant he was on normal days, when it came time to part, he still had the emotions of a youth.

Wen Liuhe was reluctant to part, and so was Shen Yu in his heart.

Ten years of day in and day out, passed in constant bickering. Every time he emerged from seclusion, he could see this person first. They were together more often than apart. Last time he confined Wen Liuhe for three months, he hadn’t been used to it—let alone now, sending him down the mountain to train?

Shen Yu sighed inwardly, lowered his lashes, tentatively reached out a hand, and gently placed his palm on Wen Liuhe’s head. He ruffled his hair, his voice carrying a smiling tone as it fell.

“Has the wound healed?”

Recalling the recent memory, Wen Liuhe’s body stiffened instinctively at first, then quickly relaxed. He smiled and said, “It’s healed. Now I could go three hundred rounds with the Medicine Venerable.”

Shen Yu’s lips curved. The two fell silent, and he was held for a good while longer, feeling like he was truly about to be kneaded into his bones by this disciple who didn’t know his own strength.

Seeing that Wen Liuhe had no intention of letting go, Shen Yu teased with a smile, “What, reluctant?”

Wen Liuhe nuzzled Shen Yu’s neck, sniffing surreptitiously at the fragrance in his hair strands. Upon hearing this, he opened his eyes. In the vision Shen Yu couldn’t see, the depths of his eyes were a patch of darkness.

He lowered his voice and said sullenly, “Reluctant, Master. How about I just skip that Sword Trial Assembly? There are so many disciples in the Taichu Sect anyway; they won’t miss one.”

Shen Yu: “……”

“No.” Before Shen Yu could reply, Wen Liuhe shot down his own previous words.

Wen Liuhe released Shen Yu and reluctantly took a step back, smiling as he said, “I’m still thinking about the reward you promised me, Master.”

Shen Yu’s lips curved. “We’ll talk after you win.”

The Cloud Bell from Taichu Main Peak urging the disciples to gather rang out. The deep toll spread like waves through the clouds, startling a flock of Luan Birds that flew overhead.

Wen Liuhe bid Shen Yu final farewell and flew on his sword toward the Taichu Cloud Boat.

Shen Yu crossed his arms and stood amid the mountain’s embrace, raising his head to gaze at the flock of birds flying to who-knows-where.