Sect Master Wen's Junior Martial Brother Who Shared His Hardships Has Returned - Chapter 2

After Fu Xuandao left, the hall gradually returned to quiet.

Xu Chaoqi had played all day and was tired now. He opened his slightly weary phoenix eyes, searching for something on which he could take a short nap.

But how monotonous was this hall? The cold stone slabs and the hard tea table made him frown. The only cushion left was one someone had knelt on, which Xu Chaoqi also resisted.

Looking at the figure beside him, Xu Chaoqi’s eyes moved, and the corner of his lips curved slightly.

Wen Chaoxi had just set down his teacup when he felt a weight settle on his leg. His lips pressed together slightly, his eyes half-closed.

If one were to say Wen Chaoxi had not anticipated this, that would clearly be impossible. In fact, the moment Xu Chaoqi had first had the thought of a nap, every one of the other’s movements had already slowed a thousandfold.

Wen Chaoxi waited quietly, even watching as Xu Chaoqi pillowed his head on his lap.

Xu Chaoqi lay down, the side of his face somewhat cool. Hazily, he watched the Daoist robe beneath his head out of the corner of his eye. The robe was originally white, gradually turning black toward the hem, and above the black, ink-colored and silver threads were woven together in embroidery.

He touched the silver thread with his hand. The silver thread was no ordinary thread—it had a luster like starlight, yet carried a sharp edge, with spiritual energy surging within it.

Wen Chaoxi lowered his eyes to look at the other’s profile.

Xu Chaoqi stroked the pattern, his eyelashes lowered, tracing the design on the Daoist robe with the pad of his finger, thinking drowsily in his mind.

Senior Brother’s Daoist robe is really nice, it must at least be Earth-tier. Senior Brother has made it big—I might even be able to use a single Profound-tier artifact… and throw away a Profound-tier artifact without a second thought…

The more he thought about it, the more his lips curved upward as he drifted off to sleep.

Dusk deepened. Wen Chaoxi looked down at the person on his lap, unmoving, and if not for the fading glow from outside the window growing ever more distant, one might mistake time itself for having stopped.

Xu Chaoqi must have caught the scent of the person closest to him, for he slept soundly and at ease, a thin layer of sweat forming at his temples, his cheeks slightly flushed.

At his knee was Xu Chaoqi’s warm body heat, accompanied by the sound of breathing in the silence, confirming a life vividly alive.

Wen Chaoxi reached out and picked up the strands of hair stuck to Xu Chaoqi’s face, tucking them behind his ear. His movement was very light, like fine down, as if the slightest bit more force would shatter the other.

“Xiao Yao…” he murmured softly.

Xu Chaoqi had a dream, and in the dream was exactly what had recently happened to him.

He had died, died from a lightning tribulation.

Ordinarily people were prone to dying at the great tribulations difficult to cross—from Foundation Establishment to Golden Core, from Golden Core to Nascent Soul—yet he had died from a minor lightning tribulation: from early Golden Core to mid Golden Core.

In the dream, beneath a mass of dark, pressing clouds, he stood atop a mountain peak, his robes snapping in the wind.

The thunder lit up the mountain ranges, and for an instant it was as bright as day.

Thunder fell from ten thousand feet above, and it seemed he understood something. In his final glance, he looked toward the direction of the cave.

Unfortunately the fierce wind had already blown away his hair crown, his ink-black hair scattering down, obscuring his vision, and then it dissipated like smoke.

“Senior Brother…” A barely audible voice drifted through the air, mixed with a sour, aching feeling.

He didn’t know how much time had passed. It seemed he could hear sounds? The blank world had blurred shadows that gradually grew clear.

By the time his consciousness returned, he was standing alone in a bustling street market, passersby walking by him, his gaze going from blankness to confusion to clarity.

He had come back to life, come back to life in a street market.

Instinctively, he ran. He was searching for someone, though he didn’t know where the other person was.

The unfamiliar speech and scenery made him realize he had been dead for many years.

His footsteps gradually slowed.

His red robes were tattered and torn all over—these were the marks left by the lightning strike. The cold wind stung his newly-formed skin, waves of chill seeping into his body.

As hunger set in, he realized his body had become a mortal one—the slightest pinch would leave a red mark.

He wandered the streets in a daze, clutching his stomach.

The weather was slightly cold. He breathed a warm breath onto his hands. Looking at the flickering spiritual light in his palm, some light finally returned to his eyes.

Thankfully his cultivation base was still intact.

In the evening, the setting sun was crimson.

He leaned against a wall, exhausted, hunger making his vision swim.

Just then, a young waiter at a nearby teahouse spotted him from a distance and ran over.

The waiter sized up the strikingly handsome young man before him, admiration showing in his eyes. Seeing him clutching his stomach, he broke into a smile.

The waiter waved at him politely. “Esteemed guest, why don’t you sit here and listen for a while? Our shop just opened—if you’ll grace us with your presence, the tea is free-flowing and the pastries are yours to eat as much as you like.”

Xu Chaoqi raised his eyes slightly, and seeing that the teahouse ahead was indeed deserted, he nodded.

He sat outside the teahouse, holding rough pastries in both hands, chewing in large bites, his cheeks stuffed full, while part of his attention listened to the storyteller speaking inside the teahouse.

Perhaps because business at the teahouse was too dismal, the storyteller decided not to tell the old stories. Instead, he took a different approach and began speaking of a recent secret affair in the Twenty-Seven Regions.

The storyteller struck his wooden clapper and, lowering his voice toward the audience below, spoke vividly and dramatically, “Everyone here must have heard of the illustrious Wu family of the Eastern Central Lower Region, yes?”

As soon as he said this, quite a few people gathered around—some wanting to hear the secret affair, and some who had spotted the beautiful young man in the corner, wanting to get closer to the beauty.

“Who hasn’t heard of that!” someone responded.

“The Wu family is one of the four great clans of the Eastern Central Lower Region—the Wu family’s second young lady was even betrothed to the Region Lord’s young heir since childhood!”

Seeing the atmosphere pick up, the storyteller immediately struck while the iron was hot. “Exactly! By rights, with the Wu family so illustrious, the future young lady of the household should surely be no ordinary woman. Yet who could have imagined that the Wu family’s young master fell for an ordinary Foundation Establishment woman instead!”

“Huh?” The crowd exclaimed in surprise.

Xu Chaoqi’s interest was piqued too. He gnawed on his pastry, leaning forward slightly.

The storyteller smiled smugly, lowering his voice even further.

“It’s said the young master fell in love with the woman at first sight, but unfortunately the woman already had a fiancé.”

“Ah!”

“But how could the young master let go? So he used a Profound-tier weapon worth ten high-grade spirit stones to bribe the fiancé into letting her go. This fiancé was also the sort to forget righteousness at the sight of wealth—the moment he got the spirit stones and the weapon, he immediately broke off the engagement. Later, the young master seized the woman and placed her under house arrest, pressuring her day and night to marry him and become the young master’s wife. The woman refused, but the young master persisted relentlessly. High-grade spirit stones, Foundation Establishment pills, Profound-tier spirit-gathering pills—he sent them to her without regard for cost. Not to mention countless Profound-tier robes and even Earth-tier robes…”

Xu Chaoqi bit into his pastry, a gleam flickering in the depths of his eyes, his fingertips twitching.

The woman was truly pitiable. If it were him in this situation, he would…

He would just get together with the young master, and then take the money the young master gave him to support his Senior Brother, to buy spirit herbs and materials for Senior Brother.

He chewed his pastry with a guilty conscience, and somehow the pastry tasted even more fragrant once it entered his mouth.

“The woman fled, and the young master mobilized the Wu family’s forces to search every corner of the Eastern Central Lower Region, and in the end captured her and brought her back.”

Just as the storyteller was speaking, the setting sun sank, and the sky gradually darkened.

A cool breeze blew away the stuffiness, and everyone felt refreshed in body and mind.

One patron looked up at the dark clouds overhead, the chill instantly startling him alert. He cried out softly in alarm. “How could the sky get dark so early!”

Someone joked. “Looking at these dark clouds, who knows—maybe some great expert is out capturing his runaway little wife!”

The crowd laughed, eating their pastries, listening to the storyteller’s tale, as the wind grew stronger and fallen leaves were swept up.

Xu Chaoqi bit into his pastry. Though he thought how nice it would be if he were the person in the story, he only thought it—he never took it seriously.

As the weather grew increasingly cold, the people in the teahouse sensed something was wrong. They broke out in cold sweat, their hearts seeming to be gripped by something, unable even to lift their arms.

The storyteller wiped the sweat from his forehead with effort, his brows furrowing tightly, and he stopped telling the story, looking instead toward the horizon.

By the time Xu Chaoqi sensed the oppressive pressure, his mind instantly cleared, and a sense of danger made his whole body tense.

Without anyone noticing when, the entire street had already fallen silent, leaving only the sound of the wind and the faint sound of footsteps.

The footsteps were very slow. That person drew closer and closer to him, and Xu Chaoqi’s scalp tingled—he had never been so nervous before, he could not even guess at the other’s cultivation level.

His nerves grew increasingly taut, and the other’s footsteps grew increasingly clear.

Not until the other was only half a zhang away from him did the footsteps finally stop, and all around fell silent.

Half a moment later, he closed his eyes, turned, and bowed in greeting.

“This one greets the Immo—”

“Xiao Yao…” Before his greeting could finish, a deep, calm voice carrying a barely perceptible hoarseness seemed to travel straight along his soul into his mind.

Xu Chaoqi’s fingertips trembled slightly. His eyelashes stirred lightly, and he opened his eyes to look up.

At first he could not see the other’s face clearly, as if a layer of mist separated them; later, when the mist dispersed, he saw clearly.

His eyelashes fluttered—even though the other’s appearance was unfamiliar, even far older than the person in his memory, he still recognized him at a single glance.

“Senior Brother.” His nose stung, and his voice came out somewhat hoarse.

When Xu Chaoqi woke, the sky had already gone dark.

He held his groggy head and slowly sat up, and the garment covering him slid off.

He looked down—it was Senior Brother’s Daoist robe, its silver and ink-colored embroidered patterns carrying the scent of sandalwood.

A fragrant, appetizing smell drifted through the air. Xu Chaoqi’s nose twitched—he was hungry.

He lifted the Daoist robe; the cold wind outside made him shiver, so he put the robe on and stood up. The robe was somewhat heavy—he had no idea how Senior Brother normally managed to walk while dragging it along, looking so dashing.

He walked outward, but unfortunately the black hem was too long and kept dragging on the ground.

Following the scent, he arrived at the side hall, where Senior Brother, sleeves rolled up, had just finished making the fish and set it on the table.

The fish looked extremely familiar—it was exactly the one he had sworn that afternoon he would cook himself.

Xu Chaoqi: …

His face flushed slightly.

Fortunately, this was something he had been doing since childhood—his face might flush, but his skin was truly thick. As long as he didn’t bring it up, he could pretend it never happened.

He sat at the table, and once Senior Brother had used his chopsticks to pick up a piece of fish meat, he too eagerly picked up a bite for himself.

The moment the chopsticks entered the fish, he discovered that the so-called abundance of bones had already been completely removed.

Xu Chaoqi’s eyes curved into a smile, and he called out “Senior Brother” with delight.

That night, Xu Chaoqi was unwilling to go to bed early, so he tugged at Wen Chaoxi’s sleeve all the way to the Library Pavilion.

The Library Pavilion contained over ninety percent of the cultivation techniques in the world.

Xu Chaoqi didn’t understand this—the moment he entered the Library Pavilion, his pupils reflected bookshelves towering into the clouds. His lips parted slightly as he browsed in astonishment through the collection nearest to him.

There were many kinds of books, their covers gleaming with golden light.

Xu Chaoqi walked from left to right, seeing titles printed on the book covers—mental cultivation methods, sword techniques, saber techniques…

Seeing that the other had taken an interest, a hint of a smile appeared in Wen Chaoxi’s eyes, and he turned and walked away, though the other’s slender figure remained within his divine consciousness.

Xu Chaoqi first flipped through a sword technique manual for a quarter hour, his brows furrowed tightly, and after a long while he shook his head and put the book back.

He took another mental cultivation manual, but this time only looked at two pages before putting it back.

He walked along the bookshelves, looking at the titles, selecting books he liked. He flipped through two more, but again only glanced at a few pages of each.

This time he no longer chose at random, but instead carefully examined the titles. After browsing through four or five bookshelves in a row, he raised his head and glanced upward, and his eyes suddenly lit up.

It seemed he had found a book he liked.

While composing a sword technique manual, Wen Chaoxi kept part of his divine consciousness on Xu Chaoqi’s movements.

He saw Xu Chaoqi holding the newly chosen book, lying down in a corner. Though the light was dim, it did not diminish Xu Chaoqi’s interest.

The more Xu Chaoqi read, the more focused he became, fully absorbed in it.

The Library Pavilion was extremely quiet, leaving only the rustling sound of the brush writing and the sound of pages turning.

The lamplight flickered, the night had already deepened, and the cicadas outside had stopped chirping.

The corner remained dim. At some point, without anyone noticing, Xu Chaoqi fell asleep, the old, yellowed book falling open to cover his chest, his eyelashes curled upward, his breathing slow and even.

The sound of soft footsteps gradually approached, a shadow falling over Xu Chaoqi’s slight figure.

Xu Chaoqi had tired himself out studying, a trace of fatigue showing at his brows and eyes.

The shadow bent down slightly and picked Xu Chaoqi up.

The book that had originally been covering Xu Chaoqi’s chest slid off, falling to the floor with a “pat,” its pages closing shut.

Wen Chaoxi glanced down, and saw four characters printed on the cover of the book.

[Hehuan Secret Technique]

Wen Chaoxi stopped still, and all around fell into dead silence.

TN:

合欢 (héhuān) = literally “joining joy” / “union of happiness”

In cultivation novels, it usually refers to dual cultivation techniques involving partners (often romantic or sexual cultivation).