The Cannon Fodder Also Has a Will to Survive [Rebirth] - Chapter 4

After leaving An Jiu, Xue Nian did not return to his own courtyard but instead headed to the neighboring Fengyuan Peak.

The Wanyan Sword Sect was the foremost sect in the cultivation world, spanning over seventy peaks. Surrounding the sect’s main peak, Dongqi Peak, were numerous cluster peaks. Beyond those clusters, the closest was Fengyuan Peak, which belonged to Martial Uncle Han Zhong.

An Yunge was currently staying there temporarily. He had not agreed to become the Martial Uncle’s disciple, yet he resided openly in a place reserved for inner disciples.

When Xue Nian found An Yunge, the youth was playing the zither at the Sunset Pavilion. Xue Nian looked on in a daze. The young man was elegant and refined, possessing a temperament as graceful as an orchid or bamboo. The melodious, crisp notes of the zither flowed from his fingertips, creating a picture of quiet, exquisite beauty.

Undeniably, An Yunge possessed a quality that always drew Xue Nian in.

In his past life, after An Jiu went missing, Xue Nian had never bothered to look for him. It was only later, when An Yunge mentioned it, that they thought to search for the junior brother who had been “kidnapped.” Even when they found An Jiu’s broken, tattered remains in a mass grave, everyone simply felt it was his karmic retribution that he had brought it upon himself.

Xue Nian felt a sharp pang in his heart. Xiao Jiu wasn’t that bad. He didn’t deserve such a fate.

The ethereal music stopped. An Yunge noticed Xue Nian’s approach, rose from the pavilion, and greeted him with a smile. “Senior Brother Xue Nian, what brings you here?”

Xue Nian snapped out of his memories and looked at An Yunge apologetically. “Junior Brother Yunge.”

Seeing his expression, An Yunge seemed to guess something. “Is something troubling you, Senior Brother?”

“Yunge… is there truly no other way to repair your spiritual roots?”

Ancient texts recorded that the “Heavenly Spiritual Root” could adapt to any constitution, and its blood could strengthen other spiritual roots. Therefore, upon learning that An Jiu possessed a Heavenly Spiritual Root and shared a karmic debt with An Yunge regarding the roots, the Master had unhesitatingly decided to extract An Jiu’s roots. After all, it was a debt An Jiu owed.

But Xue Nian, having lived through the future and realized his mistakes before being reborn, hoped for a better outcome for An Jiu.

“An Jiu is just young. He made some mistakes, but we shouldn’t deny him a chance to reform…” Xue Nian tried to influence An Yunge with his perspective.

The refined young man’s face suddenly turned cold. “Made some mistakes? He poisoned me, abandoned me in the Demon Abyss Forest, hid a sachet on my person to attract wild beasts, and secretly swapped my healing medicine for sugar pills. Every single one of those acts could have cost me my life. In your mouth, they are merely ‘some mistakes’ brushed off so lightly?”

Xue Nian was speechless. He didn’t know what excuse he could use to “whitewash” An Jiu’s past misdeeds. In his previous life, he had also initially believed those actions proved An Jiu was rotten to the core.

He muttered an explanation, his voice lacking conviction. “Those were just a child’s pranks.”

Later, Xue Nian had analyzed An Jiu’s behavior. The boy was truly a simpleton with no real schemes. Those tricks whether he thought of them himself or was taught by others, actually held little weight against a cultivator.

Perhaps only the first incident was truly malicious; the rest, once they had embarked on the path of cultivation, were trivial matters. The beasts attracted were merely mortal animals at most, they were snacks for a cultivator. Swapping pills for sugar was even more telling: if he truly meant harm, why not swap them for poison?

As for the Demon Abyss Forest? That was a standard trial ground for the Wanyan Sword Sect, where hundreds of solo missions were issued daily. Instigating fellow disciples to leave An Yunge alone there wasn’t a great evil. The only reason it became a problem was the sudden, unexpected appearance of the Demon Emperor, Lin Jingyuan.

Xue Nian offered these reasons, but people only believe what they want to believe. Since An Yunge was convinced An Jiu wanted him dead, once that prejudice was formed, it was difficult to change it through outside persuasion.

Seeing An Yunge’s mounting agitation, Xue Nian hurried to soothe him. “Yunge, calm down. I’m only saying is there another method to repair your roots? There is no absolute need to sacrifice Xiao Jiu’s life for it.”

This was the compromise Xue Nian had devised. Because An Jiu was right there and the theory of the Heavenly Spiritual Root existed, everyone’s first thought was to use him. But how was that fair to An Jiu? Surely there were other options.

Hearing this, An Yunge lowered his eyelids and calmed down slightly. “I understand. I will ask my Martial Uncle.”

Seeing that he had reached An Yunge, Xue Nian finally felt at ease. Before leaving, he asked casually, “Yunge, has your memory returned?”

“No.” An Yunge paused before continuing, “I’m sorry for causing everyone so much trouble.”

Seeing his distant politeness, Xue Nian felt a twinge of pity. “It’s no trouble. You’ll remember eventually.”

“Mhm.” An Yunge lowered his head, his long lashes obscuring the emotions in his eyes, appearing somewhat despondent.

Fang Yuhe was gone for a full hour. When he finally returned to the disciple quarters carrying a food box, he found An Jiu waiting by the door with a look of desperate longing. The boy’s eyes lit up when he saw him, and he ran to the fence to open the gate.

He’s like a little dog begging for food, Fang Yuhe thought, find the idea amusing. The annoyance from running the errand vanished instantly.

“How are you this greedy? Are you a dog?”

An Jiu completely ignored the insult to his character. He gave Fang Yuhe a side-eye, snatched the food box, and ran to the stone table in the courtyard. He opened it immediately, ready to feast.

Fang Yuhe, that bastard, really hadn’t brought any meat. The three-tier box contained a large plate of pickled cucumbers on the top, a layer of green onions in the middle, and five white steamed buns on the bottom. It looked incredibly unappetizing it was hard to say Fang Yuhe hadn’t done it on purpose.

But An Jiu didn’t complain. Instead, he began to salivate. The dense white buns looked very filling!

An Jiu grabbed a bun and began devouring it. The act of chewing finally soothed the stomach that had been cramping from hunger. His saliva glands worked overtime; there was no way he would choke on a dry bun.

But the “jinx” standing next to him had other ideas.

Fang Yuhe narrowed his eyes at the “greedy dog” eating the buns, finding it unbelievable. “Can you really eat that? Aren’t you afraid of choking on plain bread?”

As if cursed by the words, An Jiu immediately choked. He began to cough violently but refused to let go of the bun in his hand. Then, some crumbs were coughed out, spraying onto the pristine white surface of the bun. An Jiu’s eyes widened as he looked at the bright red spots on the bread.

Fang Yuhe didn’t realize what had happened. Seeing the boy cough as if he were about to faint, he had a rare moment of conscience and stepped forward to pat his back to help him catch his breath.

Just as his hand was raised, An Jiu spun around, staring at him with eyes full of hatred. “Fang Yuhe! You actually poisoned me!”

An Jiu threw a punch at Fang Yuhe’s chest, only to be bounced back a mortal’s physique couldn’t even break through a cultivator’s passive defense. This strike was purely self-inflicted suffering.

Fang Yuhe, seeing this ungrateful brat try to sneak-attack him and knock over the food box in the process, was about to mock his weakness when he saw An Jiu fall to the ground and suddenly turn his face away. With a loud “Wah!”, the boy sprayed out a massive mouthful of blood.

The unchewed bits of bun soaked in blood looked like pieces of broken internal organs.

An Jiu’s mouthful of blood produced a terrifying effect. Even Fang Yuhe, who was usually sharp-tongued and wished An Jiu ill, was stunned. He stood frozen for a long time before rushing forward to pull An Jiu up.

After spitting out the blood, An Jiu felt dizzy, accompanied by waves of heart-wrenching pain. It felt remarkably similar to when Fang Yuhe had poisoned him in his past life, so he became even more convinced the food had been tampered with.

That dog-thief! He won’t even let me have one full meal!

An Jiu glared at him fiercely, though tears wouldn’t stop streaming down his face. Old and new grudges surged in his heart; he simply couldn’t hold it back. It wasn’t necessarily out of sorrow; his current fragile body was just like that one slight provocation and his tears would go out of control.

Fang Yuhe checked his pulse but found nothing unusual. He couldn’t help his biting tongue: “You aren’t faking this to frame me, are you?” He had refined plenty of “prank” pills that simulated coughing up blood.

Hearing this, An Jiu was so angry he spat out another mouthful of blood. “You. you!” After stuttering for a while, An Jiu’s breath grew shallow, and his last words were almost inaudible.

Fang Yuhe’s lip twitched. He’s a spiteful one. But seeing An Jiu look like he was about to breathe his last, Fang Yuhe was kind enough not to hold it against him. Unable to figure out what was wrong, and seeing that the two mouthfuls of blood were definitely real, he had no choice but to scoop the boy up and carry him to Si Xuanye.

At the peak of Dongqi, the jade-crowned, green-robed Sword Lord set down An Jiu’s wrist, his expression cold and frozen.

“How is he, Master? Why is the brat coughing blood? Is it an internal injury?” Fang Yuhe leaned lazily on the table, propping his head up with one hand.

“It is nothing,” Si Xuanye replied with plenty of patience for his eldest disciple. “What he coughed up was waste blood. It cleared some old, lingering toxins it is a good thing.”

Hearing this, An Jiu thought privately: They’re going to extract my blood to refine medicine for An Yunge; of course, they want it as pure and clean as possible. This “good thing” was certainly not for his sake.

He had been fed chronic poison by his stepmother since he was a child. He knew whether that poison would kill him; it hadn’t bothered him then. But using his blood for medicine was different, they all wanted the best for An Yunge.

So, this “good thing” was for An Yunge’s benefit; it had little to do with him.

An Jiu stared numbly at the bedcurtains above his head, and began to wonder about something strange, was the bedcurtain he saw last time dark cyan?