There is Still Such A Good Thing? - Chapter 14

Bihan Terrace.

The Bihan Terrace was plunged into a deathly silence.

Xun Ye did not dare to make a sound.

He prayed to the Demon God, hoping that he could remain safely standing there like a pillar until Lord Chen’s anger dissipated, avoiding being caught in the crossfire.

While he was internally fretting, Fu Yu stepped lightly over the snow, landing accurately beside Xun Ye, and flicked his hand casually.

“Here, your correspondence. I brought it back while I was at it. No need to thank me.”

Xun Ye frowned. Where would he have any correspondence?

“You have such a kind heart?” Xun Ye muttered a casual complaint while tearing it open. “Before, getting you to help with a favor felt like it would cost you half your life. Today, however…”

Xun Ye’s words came to an abrupt halt.

The main hall was littered with broken shards of ice, and the cold air drifted in misty, wispy strands.

Chen She raised his hand and picked up the jade chessboard, his fingertips gently stroking it until the palm-sized piece of jade instantly transformed into a standard-sized chessboard.

For Lord Chen, the Four-Directional Wu-Lu was not particularly practical, yet it was indeed fancier than his own broken, tattered chessboard that looked as if a dog had gnawed on it.

The chessboard was carved from solid jade, each of its nineteen vertical and horizontal lines drawn with a single, crisp stroke. It was rich with spiritual energy, a rare treasure in this world.

In the corner of the chessboard, a tiny character had been carved by someone.

Chen She could not see it with his eyes, so he brushed his fingertips over it twice before recognizing that it was the character “Chen.”

Each stroke, each line, was neat and precise.

Chen She’s fingertips trembled slightly.

“Knock, knock.”

Xun Ye tapped lightly on the door from outside. “Lord Chen, a transmission has arrived from the Eight-Directional Observatory of the Immortal Alliance regarding the Young Lord.”

“Come in.”

Xun Ye pushed the door open with a stiff scalp, bowing with the expression of a man facing certain death.

The Eight-Directional Observatory was a secret branch that the Kunfu Ruins had planted within the Immortal Alliance. Xun Ye had instructed them to investigate Wu Lingchan’s experiences in the Immortal Alliance simply to save himself some trouble.

Chen She sat before the jade chessboard, his tone slow and steady. “And?”

Xun Ye reported, “The Young Lord is extremely famous in the Immortal Alliance. At six, he was taken in as a closed-door disciple by the Sect Master of Xiaoduo Peak, possessing extraordinary talent. By fourteen, he had already formed his Golden Core. However, for unknown reasons, only one year later, on his birthday, his cultivation was completely lost and his Golden Core shattered. The Sect Master of Xiaoduo Peak seems to have ulterior motives regarding the Young Lord. Over these years, the Young Lord has caused countless disasters; even after injuring the Sect Master’s own son, Meng Ping, he was never expelled from the sect.”

Chen She’s brows knit together.

Golden Core shattered?

To go from a proud child of heaven to a mortal without cultivation overnight, that temperament of Wu Kunkun’s, lacking in social tact and devoid of guile, must have caused him to suffer greatly.

Chen She’s fingers, stroking the chessboard, curled slightly. He asked again, “When he first returned to Kunfu, how did he get the injuries on his body?”

“The Sect Master of Xiaoduo Peak has a son with mediocre talent who is jealous of the Young Lord. For ten years, he has secretly caused trouble and set traps for the Young Lord, for which the Sect Master has punished him with confinement.”

Xun Ye’s voice grew lower as he spoke. “Some time ago, because of a crack in the Tomb of Regret, a secret realm opened. Meng Ping used a God-Transformation grade artifact, the Taiping Bow, to shoot and injure the Young Lord.”

God-Transformation grade artifacts were extremely rare. To be shot by one would surely cost someone half their life. No wonder when Wu Lingchan first woke up, Jiang Zhengliu had brought over a barrel of thousand-year-old nectar for him to use.

The cold wind blew in through the window lattice, causing the snow-silk curtains to flutter chaotically.

Chen She let out a short laugh, though his expression was chilling.

Xiaoduo Peak, Meng Ping.

Xun Ye felt that whether he stretched his neck for a blow or pulled it back, the blade would fall regardless, so he pushed his advantage. “Just now, when Fu Yu returned, he saw the Young Lord run away from the side hall.”

Chen She was stunned. “Where did he go?”

“Back to the Danjiu Palace.”

Several days later, the Danjiu Palace had still not been repaired; the sleeping hall had collapsed on one side, and as it happened, a gale was blowing outside, pouring rain in.

Wu Lingchan had hauled all his belongings from the side hall back, but the rain was too heavy. The ink-person in Chen She’s likeness, once touched by the rain, had its features twisted into a ferocious expression, looking as if it were about to eat a child.

Wu Lingchan could not tell if the moisture on his face was rain or tears. Looking at the contorted ink-person, grievances and anger surged within him again. He suddenly threw the thick stack of papers filled with the character “Chen” out into the rain.

“I don’t hate you! I hate you! How do you say ‘hate’ in Kunfu language?!”

Wu Lingchan felt a lingering resentment that he had not performed well during the argument. Wiping his tears, he lunged onto the only surviving bed, burying his face in the pillow. With a muffled, congested voice, he practiced, “I black you! I very you…”

It seemed that was how he could regain his momentum.

Xuanxiang condensed his ink to take form, drawing the ink-person that looked like Chen She into a single drop of ink that disappeared into Wu Lingchan’s hair. “I never saw you cry when you were a child. You have become quite promising now that you have grown up. Get up.”

Wu Lingchan pouted and sat up, his nose and eye sockets reddened, his tear stains still wet.

Xuanxiang wiped his tears away. “What did I advise you before? Stay away from Chen She, but you would not listen…”

Wu Lingchan glared at him with bloodshot eyes. “I need comfort now! I need someone to condemn Chen She with me, not to be lectured, and I certainly do not need your hindsight!”

“Whose fault is it?” Xuanxiang asked. “If you had listened to my hindsight earlier, would this whole situation not have been avoided?”

“I hate you too!”

Having put so much effort into getting a gift only for it to be treated like refuse, anyone would feel aggrieved, let alone Wu, the peerless genius who had crowned himself the center of the world and Child of Destiny.

Wu Lingchan could not swallow this insult. He struggled to crawl up, wanting to redraw a picture of Chen She and take his anger out on the ink-person.

Xuanxiang, caught between laughter and tears, forcibly pressed him back onto the bed.

“Alright, stop tossing about. The urgent matter at hand is for you to regulate your breath and recuperate.”

Wu Lingchan sat unhappily on the bed, crossing his legs and forming a seal to enter meditation.

Xuanxiang sat to one side to guard him.

After a long while, Wu Lingchan suddenly said in a muffled voice, “I don’t like him anymore.”

Xuanxiang: “Hmm.”

“Tomorrow, even if I get an ‘A’ at Fengyu Academy, I will not show it to him.”

Xuanxiang: “…………”

“Very tough,” Xuanxiang said. “If you do not even go to Fengyu Academy, would you not be even tougher?”

“That is true!” Wu Lingchan felt energized. “I will skip class! I will never listen to his words again!”

Xuanxiang: “…”

“Enter meditation.”

“Oh!”

Xuanxiang closed his eyes to absorb the demonic beast cores he had devoured today.

Not even a quarter of an hour had passed when he suddenly felt a weight on his leg.

Wu Lingchan had been forming seals and entering meditation, manipulating spiritual energy through his meridians. However, having had demonic energy enter his body and damage his Dantian, he collapsed into a deep sleep before he could even complete a small cycle of circulation.

Xuanxiang watched Wu Lingchan’s pale face and sighed lightly.

He helped the boy onto the pillow, but just as he was about to help him heal, he heard light, slow footsteps coming from the storm outside.

Xuanxiang’s brows knit together slightly.

Wu Lingchan was in a daze; the dull pain in his meridians and Dantian pulsed inch by inch, as if he were being flayed, disturbing him even in his sleep.

“Kunkun…”

Someone in his dream called to him.

He opened his eyes in confusion. Layers upon layers of Dan-maple leaves spread to his feet, and the sky filled with spiderwebs, emitting a dull, metallic sound under the buffet of the gale.

Wu Kunkun felt fear for no reason. His two paws wiped the tears from his face, his voice choked with sobs.

“Brother, Brother, let us leave, let us go together, okay?”

The Chen She in the dream had an indistinct face. He only saw leaves of the Dan-maple falling on him, along with a few strands of crystalline spiderweb, as he knelt on the ground, breathing heavily.

Hearing this, Chen She said impatiently, “Get lost!”

Wu Kunkun did not understand what this meant; he wanted to hold his hand.

“I told you to get lost!” Chen She suddenly reached out and shoved him away, more Dan-maple leaves falling onto his shoulders.

Wu Kunkun retreated several steps in surprise, landing on his bottom. The bell hanging around his neck shook lightly, emitting a crisp sound.

He looked up, completely bewildered at being pushed away. “Brother?”

The moment Chen She saw him fall, his pupils trembled, but he forced himself to close his eyes and look away, struggling to suppress his trembling breath.

“You are just as disgusting as your father. Leave here immediately!”

Wu Kunkun stammered, “But there are puppies biting, I… I am afraid, I will stay with Brother…”

“You will not die.” Chen She said indifferently, “You are nothing but a burden. Go, the further the better.”

Wu Kunkun’s eyes widened suddenly, staring blankly at him as tears streamed down his face.

I am not a burden.

Wu Lingchan had always hated that sentence. He struggled, wanting to wake up from the dream, but the overwhelming pain began to strike, forcing a whimper from his throat.

Between sleeping and waking, someone seemed to be sitting on the edge of the bed.

It was not the scent of Xuanxiang’s ink, but another, strange yet familiar scent—wind and snow mixed with the fragrance of bamboo leaves—wafting over.

Wu Lingchan’s face was covered in tear stains, yet he could not open his eyes.

That scent brushed toward his forehead, and a vast, overwhelming spiritual power surged toward his spirit platform, instantly circulating through his limbs and bones for several cycles.

The hidden injuries caused by the demonic energy to his meridians vanished without a trace, and the dull pain that had been torturing him was stripped away.

Wu Lingchan curled up on the bed, dazed. A hand reached over to wipe away his tears.

From then on, he had no dreams for the rest of the night.

In Kunfu Ruins, the day and night are inverted relative to the human world.

The sky was still bright when the disciples of Xiaoduo Peak, who had gone to the secret realm for training, finally returned to the sect after half a month. The bone-beast glided with wings spread, accompanied by a clicking sound as it stopped at the mountain gate.

Meng Ping descended from the bone-beast on the wind, his expressionless gaze sweeping coldly over the disciples behind him.

“Remember what should be said and what should not.”

The crowd remained silent, trembling with fear, save for the youth with the scar on his face who glared at him with resentment.

Meng Ping sneered and suddenly flicked a streak of spiritual energy. An invisible hand gathered, seizing the youth’s throat out of thin air and suspending him in mid-air.

The other disciples were startled and rushed to intervene.

“Young Sect Master, please calm your anger!”

“Jing Hui!”

Meng Ping brushed away those trying to stop him, grabbed Liu Jinghui by the throat, and pulled him to his face. “Wu Lingchan was possessed by a demonic beast, lost his sanity, and became a beast that could not distinguish right from wrong, which is why he failed to come out of the secret realm. I acted in the interest of righteousness; do you remember?”

Liu Jinghui gasped for air. Upon hearing this, he sneered, “Young Sect Master, even if you are jealous, you cannot catch up to…”

Meng Ping’s eyes turned malicious, and his hand tightened suddenly.

Bang.

Just as he was about to crush Liu Jinghui’s neck, a surge of spiritual energy came from within Xiaoduo Peak, striking Meng Ping’s wrist.

Liu Jinghui fell from the air, stumbling to his knees on the ground, coughing violently. The tear stains forced out on his face remained as he glared viciously at Meng Ping.

A voice floated from within Xiaoduo Peak: “What has happened? Where is Lingchan?”

Liu Jinghui immediately knelt on the ground, his voice hoarse. “Sect Master, Lingchan was… by Meng Ping…”

Before he could finish, a surge of pressure suddenly descended, and Liu Jinghui instantly lost his voice.

The Sect Master asked, “Ping’er?”

Meng Ping looked at Liu Jinghui with a mocking expression and said, “The secret realm collapsed, and demonic beasts suppressed by the artifacts poured out. Lingchan was possessed by a beast, and having no other choice, I had to leave him in the secret realm.”

The Sect Master was silent for a moment before asking the others, “Is this true?”

Except for Liu Jinghui, the other disciples exchanged glances for a long time before nodding. “Indeed, just as the Young Sect Master said.”

The Sect Master did not say more, only, “Ping’er, come see me.”

Meng Ping: “Yes.”

Liu Jinghui knelt on the ground in a wretched state, his neck already showing hideous bruises, staring dead at Meng Ping.

Meng Ping walked to his front, looked down at him, and mocked, “If you still want to go to the Penglai Grand Assembly, keep your mouth shut, otherwise I would not mind sending you down to see that idiot.”

Having said that, he smoothed his robes and rode the wind toward the Sect Master’s cave dwelling.

Liu Jinghui remained kneeling alone, not moving for a long time.

The other disciples felt guilty and ashamed. Looking at Liu Jinghui’s stubborn demeanor, they were filled with worry.

Liu Jinghui had offended the Young Sect Master; his days ahead would likely not be easy.

Meng Ping arrived at the Sect Master’s cave dwelling in an instant. Before he could stand still, he felt a blast of palm wind whistling toward him.

Slap.

Meng Ping took a solid slap, and a trace of blood seeped from the corner of his lips.

Sitting on the high platform was the Sect Master of Xiaoduo Peak, True Man Meng, dressed in Daoist robes. His eyes were cold and sharp as he questioned, “Do you know what you have done?”

Meng Ping wiped the blood from his lip, not caring in the least. He sneered, “Father, I returned after nine deaths and one life. You do not ask about my injuries or worry about the artifacts, but instead hit me because of an idiot; sometimes I really wonder if Wu Lingchan is your biological son.”

True Man Meng remained expressionless. “What are your injuries?”

Meng Ping grinned and threw Wu Lingchan’s dimmed spirit-token onto the ground. “I am not injured, but your beloved ‘biological son’ is buried in the belly of a beast, without even a corpse left.”

True Man Meng: “…”

True Man Meng rubbed his temples. “I have warned you since you were a child: no matter how good Wu Lingchan’s luck or talent is, in the future, he will only be used by you. An orphan without father or mother will never be able to flip the sky; why must you lower yourself to compete with him?”

Meng Ping sneered, “Since he entered the sect, Father, you praised him all day long for his high talent and rapid progress in cultivation, favoring him even when his Golden Core was shattered. Do you know how the world talks about us, and now you come to blame me for competing with him?”

“Talent is inherently different for everyone. Even without cultivation, he has great utility. The key he carries…”

“Enough!” Meng Ping turned around and said coldly, “I do not want to know what his utility is. Now that he is dead, Father, you had better find another key as soon as possible.”

Having said that, he would not stay any longer and brushed his sleeves as he left.

The room was silent.

True Man Meng remained expressionless, then suddenly said, “The key cannot be lost. Go and find Wu Lingchan, at any cost.”

The stone lion sitting to the side shook its body slightly, stone powder falling away, transforming into a tall, sturdy man.

“Yes.”

Meng Ping walked out of the cave dwelling with a dark face. He had not gone more than a few steps when a Daoist boy ran over in a hurry.

“Young Sect Master, this is bad.”

“What?”

“The Soul Lamp,” the boy said anxiously, “Wu Lingchan’s Soul Lamp is still lit. He is not dead yet!”

Meng Ping’s expression changed instantly.

The Soul Lamps of Xiaoduo Peak disciples were not fueled by divine sense or heart-blood, but by soul-blood that connected their souls.

A collapsing secret realm, countless demonic beasts that had lost their sanity…

To be able to survive in such a dangerous situation—Wu Lingchan’s luck was enough to make one jealous.

A look of hatred appeared on Meng Ping’s face. He said coldly, “No wonder my father let this matter go so easily; send someone to take the blood from the Soul Lamp to remake the jade token. Find Wu Lingchan, dead or alive.”

The boy was astonished, his face clearly saying, “How much hatred can there be?”

But Meng Ping was full of hatred, and even the depths of his pupils seemed to be permeated with an ominous red glow.

He had been goaded into a heart-demon by Wu Lingchan.

The boy did not dare to say more. “Yes, yes.”

The sky was about to break into dawn.

The Eight-Directional Observatory had worked overnight to send over all the experiences Wu Lingchan had had in the Immortal Alliance over these years. Chen She sat alone on the jade platform, reading them page by page, while the wind and snow raged outside the Bihan Terrace.

Xun Ye tiptoed in from outside and bowed. “Report to Lord Chen, the craftsmen coming for repairs will arrive in half an hour; they will restore the Danjiu Palace to its original state as soon as possible.”

Chen She replied, “Hmm.”

Xun Ye keenly perceived that Lord Chen was in a terrible mood, so he held his breath and remained silent.

Chen She burned Wu Lingchan’s past records with fire and ordered softly, “Go and see if he is awake.”

“Are you sending the Young Lord to Fengyu Academy?”

“No.” Chen She stroked the jade chessboard in front of him. “Many people in the academy have hostility toward him; he should not go to the academy anymore. Let him come to the Bihan Terrace; from now on, I will teach him myself.”

“Yes.”

Xun Ye silently inhaled a breath of cold air, maintained a respectful demeanor, and went off to carry out the order.

Chen She subconsciously stroked the character “Chen” with his fingertip and was about to have someone prepare new writing materials when Xun Ye hurried back.

“What? He is not awake yet?”

“No.” Xun Ye said with a stiff scalp, “I arrived just as the Young Lord had risen. As soon as he saw me, he snapped at me and hated me.”

Chen She: “…”

Living people could not stay in Xuanxiang’s space for too long, so the half-demon had been released. Early that morning, he had taught Wu Lingchan how to say “hate.”

Wu Lingchan had suffered great grievances yesterday, and he had dreamt of being called a “burden” by Chen She in his childhood. New and old hatreds rolled back together, making his head buzz with anger.

Xun Ye had chosen the wrong time to arrive and was met with a head-on barrage of hatred.

Xun Ye was stunned by the cursing. Seeing Wu Lingchan running out in a huff, he hurried to catch up and spoke concisely: “Lord Chen says the Young Lord does not need to go to the academy; he will teach you personally.”

Wu Lingchan: “Oh my! Lord Chen is actually willing to teach me personally? Should I kneel and thank him for his grace?”

Xun Ye: “…”

After mocking him, Wu Lingchan’s face darkened again. “Lord Chen does not even speak the Immortal Alliance language, what can he teach me? Little Sheep knows everything! He will teach me and will not call me a burden!”

The half-demon bowed modestly, indicating that Young Lord Wu was number one in the world, the center of the world, and noble.

Before Xun Ye could speak, Wu Lingchan added, “Since you are here, help me take a message to Lord Chen last night’s ‘I dislike you’ is retracted, change it to ‘I hate you’.”

Xun Ye: “…”

Hate, hate, hate—hating everyone around Chen She too!

Wu Lingchan launched his “Hate, Hate, Hate” attack while marching off with his new teacher.

Chen She: “…………”

Xun Ye had never handled such a thorny mission and tried to cover his incompetence: “The Young Lord’s intention to leave is firm; your subordinate did not dare to forcibly stop him.”

Chen She, hearing the word “burden,” flicked his long lashes. He seemed to sigh helplessly, then rose slowly.

“Where did he go?”

“Judging by the direction, it seems to be the back mountain of the Four-Cut Academy.”