Sect Master Wen's Junior Martial Brother Who Shared His Hardships Has Returned - Chapter 11

The little white fish struggled to poke its head out; forget about swimming up—its gradually slowing tail fin was making it sink instead.

It bit its lip and forced itself to show its body to Xu Chaoqi, but it felt so weak. It was afraid that if Xu Chaoqi turned and left, it wouldn’t feed it steamed buns anymore.

Its tail fin thrashed hard, the seawater filled with the smell of blood, and just as it had barely managed a few strokes, a pale, clean hand scooped it up from beneath. The surroundings grew higher and higher, the sky drew nearer, and its body started to dry off a little.

Xu Chaoqi lowered his voice and turned to ask Song Shuiqing beside him, “Do you have a fish tank?” His speech was a bit faster than usual.

Song Shuiqing was stunned for a moment, then anxiously rummaged through his storage pouch. “A fish tank… I’ve never kept fish. Would this work?”

As he said this, he pulled out a crystal basin slightly bigger than a bowl but smaller than a pot.

“Before, when I was out training with disciples from the Western Region, they only allowed one bowl of rice per meal, so I had someone make me a bigger bowl to hold more.”

Xu Chaoqi didn’t stand on ceremony with Song Shuiqing. He took the basin with one hand, glanced at it, and praised, “This bowl is just the right size, perfect for putting it in.”

Hearing this, Song Shuiqing relaxed considerably, and genuine, sincere warmth entered his smile.

Xu Chaoqi bent down, scooped in most of a basin’s worth of water, and gently placed the little fish inside with tender care.

Though the little fish felt somewhat dazed, it still nervously gripped the crystal walls with its fins.

The cranes off to the side were dumbfounded—where had this fish come from? And the price had been slashed so ruthlessly, too!

They looked at this fish covered in wounds and scars, and honestly, if it was willing to follow Xu Chaoqi, sooner or later it would surely push them out.

But they were good birds—since when did good birds serve two masters?

They glared at the fish for a good while, made absolutely certain they’d never sink below one steamed bun, and finally flew off, seething with frustration.

Xu Chaoqi flew through the sky the whole way, the little fish drowsy and disoriented. It was tired, hungry, and in pain, but it didn’t dare ask its master for today’s steamed bun—it was afraid its master would think it was a greedy fish.

It curled up in the corner of the fish tank, warming itself with its own body. It wanted so badly to eat a steamed bun, but its master couldn’t even afford mingyin grass—perhaps steamed buns were also a considerable expense for its master?

The little fish grew increasingly silent; even the pain in its tail couldn’t make it speak.

The surroundings gradually grew quiet, with only the sound of the wind and the swaying of flowers, grass, and trees.

It grew more and more desolate. The little fish, its weary eyelids drooping, thought: perhaps its master was poorer than it had imagined.

The place where its master lived was too far away, deep in a desolate wilderness. They flew for about thirty minutes, the whole time in silence.

The little fish grew ever more drowsy, and its fish-eyes had long since closed.

It didn’t know how much time had passed when it heard a warm, low, unhurried voice.

“Caught another fish today?”

This voice startled the little fish awake instantly, its fish-eyes going round and wide, gazing through the crystal at the blurry figure ahead.

It had heard this voice before—it was identical to that cold, emotionless voice beneath the tribulation lightning. No, wait, this voice had emotion now, very intense, like… like a mother… like how he spoke to the person closest to him.

Xu Chaoqi understood what his Senior Brother meant. He hurriedly hugged the fish tank close and refused. “This is my newly acquired spirit pet!”

“Spirit pet?” Wen Chaoxi’s eyelashes lifted, and he glanced at the fish tank.

Xu Chaoqi set the fish tank on the table, and while stretching his arms, said, “It said it wanted to be my mount, but it’s such a tiny fish—it can’t even lift one of my hands. It can only be a spirit pet.”

Wen Chaoxi lowered his eyes and gave a faint, quiet laugh, shaking his head.

The little fish shrank back further into the tank—perhaps this mighty expert recognized it.

Xu Chaoqi had played all afternoon and was hungry. He first wolfed down a couple mouthfuls of food to suppress his hunger, then finally looked up to ask his Senior Brother.

“What should I feed it? Its injuries are quite severe too.”

His Senior Brother had already finished peeling six or seven shrimp and placed them in his own bowl—this was a dish he was especially fond of.

Without even looking up, Wen Chaoxi said, “Just feed it some spiritual energy. Once it has enough qi, its injuries will heal too.”

Xu Chaoqi: “Won’t it get hungry then?”

“It’s different from ordinary creatures. Even if its body were several thousand li long, feeding it a steamed-bun-sized portion of food would fill it up, as long as enough spiritual energy is hidden within.”

Upon hearing “several thousand li long,” the little fish trembled, staring at Wen Chaoxi in shock.

Wen Chaoxi continued peeling shrimp for Xu Chaoqi at an unhurried, steady pace, until he had peeled an entire plateful clean, not one shrimp left. Only then did he raise both hands to wash them.

During this time, what little strength remained in the little fish was nearly spent. It lay at the bottom of the tank, its fish-eyes growing more and more exhausted, its tail rotting even more severely.

Just as wisps of bloody mist began seeping from its tail, Wen Chaoxi stood and walked over. He took out a milky-white jade stone about the size of a steamed bun and dropped it into the fish tank.

The little fish gazed hazily at the bubbles overhead. The milky-white jade stone fell into the water and grew larger and larger; the stone drew closer, slowly about to crash down on it—yet it wasn’t afraid at all.

Long ago, in that dark place it despised, everyone had beaten it, refused to let it eat, and the disciples of the clan had bullied it.

One night, it had been so hungry it could barely stand it. It had leaned against the corner of the black palace, its consciousness gradually growing hazy.

Suddenly, it smelled an intensely fragrant scent, and the clan members’ startled cries rang out around it.

“Someone, quick! The clan leader is dying! Bring the clan’s sacred treasure at once!”

It could no longer see clearly—it seemed like people were coming and going, a crowd escorting a treasure box.

The treasure box opened, and light illuminated the entire hall.

Faintly, it saw it—a milky-white jade stone the size of a pigeon egg, condensed from the purest spiritual energy in the world.

The clan members carefully raised the sacred treasure, and the high priest, using an ancestral heaven-tier artifact, carefully scraped off a layer of powder from it.

So fragrant… so fragrant… that was the most fragrant scent it had ever smelled.

The powder was fed into the clan leader’s mouth, and after about a quarter hour, the clan leader opened his eyes.

The scent from that memory had lingered in its heart ever since, that rich fragrance gradually overlapping with the milky-white jade stone before it now.

The little fish stared with wide fish-eyes, utterly stunned. What was this stone used for again?

“Senior Brother, might this stone not be to its liking?”

Give… it to me?

The stone fell. Half-dazed, it didn’t know where the strength came from, but it suddenly stretched out its fins and lifted the stone.

The stone wasn’t small—it was almost as big as the fish itself.

The little fish’s eyes went completely round. Spiritual energy falling from the heavens, so much spiritual energy, so, so much spiritual energy… really, giving it to me?

“Senior Brother, can it even bite through the stone? Won’t it break its teeth? Should we use something to scrape some off for it?”

Wen Chaoxi calmly poured a cup of tea for Xu Chaoqi, to prevent him from choking.

“No need. However much it can gnaw off will be its own fortune.”

The little fish understood now—as long as it could finish gnawing, this whole enormous piece would be its!

Such a massive treasure still left the little fish somewhat dazed. As if in a dream, it hugged the stone and began gnawing.

In truth, their clan’s teeth were sharp and tough, fully capable of gnawing it down. The reason the high priest used an artifact to scrape it was out of concern that clan members would gnaw off too much.

The little fish had been utterly exhausted, but the moment it finally managed to bite off a mouthful with all its strength, rich spiritual energy spread wildly through its body, smoothing over its wounds. Its body gradually filled out, and the pain in its tail faded from present to completely numb.

In truth, after just one bite, it was already quite full, but it couldn’t bear to leave such a large piece of jade, so it forced itself to take another small bite…

The sky seemed to darken and brighten again, and by the time it regained consciousness, its master was poking its belly with his index finger.

“Good thing you’re still alive. This morning when I woke up, I saw you floating belly-up at the top of the tank.”

The little fish: …

“It must have eaten too much.”

Xu Chaoqi sighed and lifted a box even bigger than the fish tank. He opened the lid and said, “No need to rush like that—my Senior Brother just gave me a whole crate of fish food.”

Inside the box was a crate full of milky-white stones, about forty or fifty of them, roughly the same size as yesterday’s.

The little fish: …

It first shrank down to the bottom of the tank, then after a while poked its head out of the water and rubbed its head against Xu Chaoqi’s finger.

****

Xu Chaoqi went out again for a few more days, continuing to search for a mount with Song Shuiqing. But it wasn’t long before Song Shuiqing said guiltily, “My father pulled some strings for me—I have to report to Fumo Mountain tomorrow. I’m afraid I’ll have classes every day from now on and won’t be able to come anymore.”

His five fingers curled slightly; he didn’t dare look up, yet quietly stole glances to observe Xu Chaoqi’s expression.

Who would have thought Xu Chaoqi would smile, his eyes curving, draping his arm over Song Shuiqing’s shoulder.

“That’s a good thing! If you succeed, as your friend, I’d be happy for you!”

“Really?” Song Shuiqing was stunned for a moment, his lips murmuring.

Xu Chaoqi smiled, leaning closer to Song Shuiqing. “If you make it big, don’t forget me. The Centennial Grand Competition is coming up soon—I want to see you on the martial stage!”

Because this was Yingtian Sect’s home turf, the sect had many more disciple slots—just the slots allotted to the Way of Talisman alone numbered over a hundred.

This was the first blessing Song Shuiqing had ever received like this. He could feel that among all these friends around him, only Xu Chaoqi genuinely wished him well from the heart.

Not only did his eyes grow hot, but his long-dormant heart began to beat again.

“Alright! I’ll go back and draw talismans, drawing every single day until the hour of Hai!”

As he spoke, he looked at Xu Chaoqi and said, “I also want you to watch me at the Centennial Grand Competition… even if you’re not on the stage, could you watch me from below?”

He knew Xu Chaoqi currently belonged to no peak and no other sect, and might not be qualified to participate. But when the time came, he planned to bring him to meet his father, and he’d also have made a good friend. He was his father’s only son, so his father would surely show Xu Chaoqi some favor, at least a little.

Hearing this, Xu Chaoqi smiled sincerely and nodded. “I will! When the time comes, I’ll make sure to watch you from below the stage!”

“Good!”

****

Ever since parting ways with Song Shuiqing, Xu Chaoqi had gone out less often. Add to that the fact that his storybook had just reached an exciting part these past few days, and he stayed cooped up in his courtyard even more.

The Centennial Grand Competition drew nearer day by day, until one evening, his sound-transmission stone lit up—it was Song Shuiqing calling him.

Xu Chaoqi set down his storybook and flew out on his talisman.

By the seaside, he found Song Shuiqing looking somewhat dejected.

Song Shuiqing’s brow carried a trace of exhaustion, his expression distracted.

The sea breeze tousled his loose strands of hair. Gazing at the rolling waves, he asked in a low, muffled voice, “Brother Qi, do you think the Way of Talisman is useless?”

A flash of surprise crossed Xu Chaoqi’s eyes. He lifted the hem of his robe and sat down beside Song Shuiqing.

“I’ve always believed all paths are equal. Besides, I myself primarily cultivate the Way of Talisman—though I also cultivate the Way of Arrays—so how could it be useless?”

Upon hearing that he also cultivated the Way of Arrays, Song Shuiqing’s features twisted as though he’d tasted bitter melon, and he finally spat out one sentence.

“But in the Centennial Grand Competition these past years, the Way of Talisman has always placed last or second-to-last, and the other one is Array cultivation. They’ve stayed steady in the bottom two, constantly fighting over who’s dead last.”

Xu Chaoqi: …

Hearing this result made his head spin too!

After a long moment, he said, “If it’s so hopeless, why not just abolish it? What’s the point of forcibly propping up something that can’t be helped? How embarrassing.”

Song Shuiqing gazed at him deeply, sighed, held it in for a moment, then said, “Do you know who’s been propping it up?”

“Who?”

Song Shuiqing pursed his lips, gesturing.

“Who?” Xu Chaoqi rubbed his head—he genuinely couldn’t figure it out.

Song Shuiqing looked somewhat anxious, but still carefully pointed upward, saying quietly, “That person up above, the one who holds power over Yingtian Sect.”

Xu Chaoqi seemed to understand something. He blinked and said, “Why would he prop it up? It’s useless—no matter how much support you give it, it still can’t stand up. So many years now, always dead last, never able to rise up…”

Song Shuiqing lowered his head, looking somewhat melancholy. “That person said it’s possible—that they’re inferior to no other path.”

“But losing is losing. Losing so badly, it’s pointless.”

“That person said it has use—it’s just that the right person hasn’t come along.”

“What person? Never heard of one.”

“That person said, once there was a dazzling talent, buried and forgotten by history.”

Xu Chaoqi fell silent.

He turned his head to look at the sea, the sea breeze lifting his ink-black hair, revealing his pale, clean face.

Song Shuiqing continued speaking to himself. “Actually, both the Way of Talisman and the Way of Arrays should have been abolished long ago. It’s that person who won’t allow it, who has kept insisting on preserving them all this time. This has become one of the few things people use against that person. You’re right, many people have said these things—the Way of Talisman and the Way of Arrays really aren’t living up to expectations either, always placing last so many times in a row. That person has said many true words, but this is the one lie among them.”

As he spoke, Song Shuiqing lowered his eyes and revealed the reason for his gloom today.

“I know the Way of Talisman isn’t good, but if I don’t want to join it, my father can’t force me either. It’s just that today people from other paths came to Fumo Mountain to mock us, and it made me furious. They said sword cultivators can turn one sword into ten thousand swords, that half the sky belongs to a single sword strike. They also said chess cultivators fill the sky with their chessboard, that everyone becomes a pawn. Only talisman cultivators… a bunch of useless people, probably have to draw one talisman at a time, drawing for days on end, using countless talismans just to cover half the sky.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Xu Chaoqi spoke up.

“What’s the punishment for starting a fire within the sect?”

“Huh?” Song Shuiqing was stunned for a moment. “Twenty strikes of the immortal staff.”

“What if the fire were very large, but posed no danger to life?”

“Eighty, eighty strikes!”

Xu Chaoqi smiled and pressed down on Song Shuiqing’s hand, saying, “Not too bad, that’s manageable.”

Song Shuiqing was alarmed. “Brother Qi, what are you planning to do?!”

Xu Chaoqi didn’t answer him. Instead, he took out his sound-transmission stone, his voice returning to its usual innocent tone.

“Senior Brother…”

With the Centennial Grand Competition approaching, the higher-ups of the Twenty-Seven Regions had gathered in one place to discuss important matters.

And in the highest seat of honor sat an immortal figure. The sound-transmission stone at his waist lit up.

“Senior Brother, if you have time today, keep an eye on the sky.”

That person heard it—fortunately, this was an open-air location.

From that moment on, his divine consciousness remained fixed on the sky above.

Xu Chaoqi took out a talisman sheet and began drawing on it with quiet focus, Song Shuiqing watching beside him. Gazing at the rich, mellow spiritual power and the fluid lines, the depth and complexity of the talisman was something he had never seen before.

This had already far exceeded his understanding; everything before his eyes brought him into unfamiliar territory—even the teachers on Fumo Mountain had never possessed such skill.

Xu Chaoqi had often helped Song Shuiqing with his homework before, and drawing talismans usually took him only the span of a single breath. But this one talisman, he drew with exceptional care, taking an entire two hours.

The sky turned completely black, stars twinkling.

Xu Chaoqi lifted the talisman sheet in his hand and let it rise into the air.

The talisman markings brightened. Xu Chaoqi pinched his fingers into a hand seal, forming nearly ten consecutive gestures. The talisman sheet ignited, a brilliant, massive burst of fire rising into the sky, lighting up the pitch-black night.

Xu Chaoqi had grown up trailing behind his Senior Brother. When he was little, his Senior Brother had been rigorous and proper, never one to smile easily.

All the sect’s disciples feared him, yet Xu Chaoqi alone loved clinging to him, from childhood all the way to now. His Senior Brother had also always treated him better than any other disciple.

The year Xu Chaoqi turned nearly eighteen, he said he wanted to give his Senior Brother a gift.

His Senior Brother raised an eyebrow, telling him to eat and sleep properly.

Xu Chaoqi was a talisman and array prodigy—everyone in the sect knew it. When he created a new talisman on his own, it usually took him only three or four days, a month at most. But this time, he spent half a year on a single talisman sheet.

On that birthday, he stood at a distance, smiling and waving at his Senior Brother.

When his Senior Brother looked over at him, he ignited the talisman sheet in his hand.

In an instant, fire soared into the sky, dyeing half the heavens red—it was an enormous phoenix, spreading its wings and soaring high through the air…

Wen Chaoxi looked at him. He smiled brightly and said, “This is my gift for Senior Brother.”

A subtle change entered Wen Chaoxi’s eyes. From that day on, he treated Xu Chaoqi much better.

Later, they traveled far and wide together, wandering through the world.

Xu Chaoqi had once joked to his Senior Brother. “If I leave someday in the future, Senior Brother, you must help pass down my talisman techniques. Just don’t write my name—if people gossip about me later and dig too deep into who I was, that’d be awkward. Just write… that this person was called Xu Yao!”

As he thought this over, he didn’t forget to add. “But Senior Brother, don’t write down the talisman I gave you—that one was for you alone.”

The fire rose into the sky, dyeing half the heavens red, a lifelike phoenix crying out silently.

Song Shuiqing was stunned by this sight, “How could a talisman be this beautiful?!”

Xu Chaoqi tilted his head back and said, “I’m giving it to the person who matters most to my life.”

In the square below, everyone gazed up at the sky.

Someone well-versed in the Way of Talisman was present. “Who—who drew this? Why has this talisman never appeared in any talisman archive? Whoever drew this is truly a genius the likes of which comes along once in ten thousand years!”

Though everyone present felt this person’s talent was extraordinary, the sect had its rules.

The official in charge stepped forward, looked up at the sky, and said with a frown, “Who dares to act so recklessly? Disturbing the entire Southern Region during rest hours?! Someone, arrest this person at once…”

Before he could finish speaking, from atop the high platform, the one person who should have been utterly incapable of speaking, spoke.

That person likewise gazed up at the sky, his long lashes lowered, veiling his eyes, his expression complex and unreadable.

Then that person raised his hand and pressed it downward, saying, “The younger generation is formidable…”

As he spoke the latter half of the sentence, the mighty experts of the Twenty-Seven Regions rarely witnessed that person smile.

“No harm done.”