After Transmigrating Into The Body Of The Chief Disciple, The Villain Was Reborn. - Chapter 22

The moment the three turned back, they saw the two stone Qilin’s eyes glowing with an eerie green light. The statues took heavy, crushing steps toward them, preparing to attack. Lu Shi’an and his companions dodged swiftly and drew their swords, hacking at the stone beasts. Through their combined efforts, the Qilin were shattered in moments. However, just as strangely, the rubble on the ground began to reassemble, forming new Qilin. The resurrected beasts were even faster and more powerful.

The trio was forced back into a cycle of combat, but the Qilin kept breaking apart and reforming, appearing endless. Lu Shi’an’s expression grew grim. As he watched the rubble begin to stir once more, he noticed the glowing eyes and shouted, “Attack their eyes!”

Ning Yuzhao and Xiao Heng reacted immediately, focusing their strikes on the eyes of one beast. As the eyes were shattered, the Qilin collapsed entirely. Seeing the strategy worked, they repeated the process on the second beast. Finally, both Qilin were destroyed and remained still.

Exhausted by the long battle, the three sat on the ground to recover. Suddenly, a small green sphere rolled off the broken statue and came to rest near Lu Shi’an. As he picked it up, the ball absorbed the fresh blood left on his hand from the battle. Another sphere from the second statue rolled toward him, and Lu Shi’an tentatively touched it with a drop of blood as well, completing the contract.

Instantly, the two spheres emitted a blinding light, fusing together and shifting from green to a dazzling red. Before Lu Shi’an could examine them closely, the familiar, stinging pain returned to his brain, more violent than ever before. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead, his veins bulging with the effort to endure. The sounds of the world faded into silence. Before losing consciousness, his blurred vision caught Ning Yuzhao and Xiao Heng frantically shaking him, their mouths moving in desperate, unheard cries.

“Master! I have broken through! I am in the Foundation Establishment stage now!”

A youth ran joyfully into the courtyard to report the news to the man sitting in a chair reading. The boy was dressed in vibrant red, his face bright with excitement and his eyes sparkling with anticipation. He moved lightly, like a happy bird eager to share this achievement with his most revered master.

However, the man did not even lift his head. “Mm,” he responded coldly, his focus remaining entirely on his book, seemingly indifferent to the boy’s milestone.

The youth did not feel hurt or disappointed by the man’s coldness. He remained full of vitality, chattering incessantly about the fresh things he had seen outside. He recounted funny anecdotes from his cultivation and the challenges he faced, hoping to pique the man’s interest.

Day after day, Lu Shi’an watched this scene unfold. The boy was always filled with passion, sharing every detail of his life, but the man remained aloof, offering no response to the boy’s warmth. Yet, the boy never changed. He persisted, reporting his progress every day, waiting for a word of affirmation or encouragement.

As time passed, the light in the boy’s eyes gradually dimmed. He began to realize that no matter how hard he tried, the man would never give him the response he desired. He did not give up; instead, he buried his disappointment deep inside, continuing to use a smile to hide the pain within. Lu Shi’an often saw the boy beaming in front of the man, only to walk silently to the riverbank afterward to wipe away tears in secret. He would stand there, staring at the water, his face full of grievance and helplessness. But as soon as his emotions settled, he would dry his tears, put on a brilliant smile, and run back to the man to tell jokes, trying to make him happy. But the man’s attitude never wavered.

Whenever the boy cried, Lu Shi’an felt an urge to comfort him, but he was merely a bystander in this dream. His outstretched hands could never touch the youth, passing right through his body. Lu Shi’an could not see the man’s face clearly, but the boy’s face was etched into his mind; it was the man from the ice coffin in his youth.

He did not know how much time had passed when he felt tears fall onto his own face. As he moved to wipe them away, he heard joyful shouts near his ears.

“Senior Brother! You are awake? Look, Xiao Senior Brother, his hand moved!”

“Really? Brother Lu? Please wake up!”

Lu Shi’an struggled to open his eyes, finding the two of them looking at him with joy, the worry in their eyes not yet dissipated. Ning Yuzhao’s eyelashes were still damp with tears, and Xiao Heng’s eyes were bloodshot.

“How long has it been?” Lu Shi’an felt as if he had lived a lifetime; his mind was still filled with the image of the boy wiping away his tears in secret.

“Brother Lu, it has been half a month. You have been unconscious for half a month.”

Xiao Heng briefly recounted what had happened since he fainted. After he lost consciousness, the red sphere had merged into his body and vanished, and the stone door behind the murals had opened. Fearing for his safety in the Nether Secret Realm, they had brought him out. They were currently staying at an inn in a small town near the realm. They had sought out many physicians, even mortal doctors, but all concluded that he was merely sleeping and could find no physical cause. Xiao Heng had just been telling Ning Yuzhao that he planned to take him to the Xiao family physicians when Lu Shi’an woke up.

Lu Shi’an rubbed his temples. “My body is fine. I just had a dream during my coma.”

“A dream? Brother Lu, what did you see?” Xiao Heng asked in surprise.

“A youth.” Lu Shi’an had no intention of saying more. Seeing this, Xiao Heng stopped questioning; as long as Lu Shi’an was physically fine, that was all that mattered.

Ning Yuzhao, however, was bothered. A youth? Was it that person? Why does senior brother keep dreaming of him? Why is his shadow everywhere? Ning Yuzhao dared not ask; he knew he had no position to do so. Over the last half-month, he had realized that he was in love with his senior brother. It was not the reverent affection of a junior toward a senior, but romantic longing. He had once thought he hated anyone who got close to his senior brother because he did not want his senior brother to share his attention. But seeing his senior brother lying motionless on the bed, unable to hear his gentle, “Yuzhao, be good, senior brother is here,” and stimulated by the appearance of that man, Ning Yuzhao finally understood his own heart.

Before his senior brother, Ning Yuzhao felt a sense of inferiority. To him, his senior brother was like the moon in the sky, meant to hang high above, untouchable by anyone.