As that streak of golden lightning crashed down, the spectator stands fell into complete silence. Everyone had watched Mo Yu hold on step by step for so long, so seeing him collapse like this truly felt a bit difficult to bear.
Li Jingsheng’s heart leaped right into his throat. The novel hadn’t mentioned that Mo Yu would sustain such severe injuries!
Besides, judging by the current situation, Mo Yu’s chances of winning looked remarkably slim!
Just when everyone assumed the match was about to end right there, Mo Yu, who had just been struck by the golden lightning, suddenly burst forth, charging toward Wang Yong like an unsheathed sharp sword.
Wang Yong failed to dodge in time and was struck by several more explosive talismans. Following this barrage of talismans, Mo Yu watched as the lion emblem completely vanished from his opponent.
His voice sounded like that of a phantom, carrying a trace of exhaustion: “Next, it is my turn.”
As those words fell, explosions far greater than any previous blast erupted across Wang Yong’s body, resembling a magnificent and dazzling grand finale.
Yet right after those fireworks, Wang Yong, who had remained completely unscathed just moments before, crashed straight to the ground.
Watching Wang Yong fall, Mo Yu exhausted his very last shred of strength. The scene before him began to spin, and overwhelmed beyond endurance, he collapsed. The exact moment he went down, a flash of red swept across his vision, bearing an uncanny resemblance to the snow-plum he had seen years ago.
＊
Mo Yu felt as though he were trapped within a chaotic void, the clamorous noises ringing in his ears unending until they finally faded into quietude once more.
When he woke up again, he had returned to the days before he was selected by his master.
Back then, his mother had passed away not long ago, and coinciding with the Winter Solstice, heavy snow had suddenly started falling from the sky. They were like mice living in the gutters, holding zero status within the city, which naturally meant they had no money for a burial.
Finally, after being beaten during his third attempt at begging for money, he abandoned the notion of buying a coffin for his mother.
Yet his mother’s remains could no longer wait.
Thus, as a ten-year-old child wearing his thickest layer of clothing, a single hempen garment, he laboriously dragged his mother’s corpse to the outskirts of the city, searching for a patch of ground close to grass and flowers where he could dig a pit.
His mother loved flora, and Mo Yu remembered how she had previously smiled at a small blue flower by the roadside. That was the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.
Lacking any tools, he used a stone to dig. In the dead of winter’s bitter cold, he scraped at the hard earth using that tiny stone, and before long, his raw, reddened hands were scraped bloody by the rock.
He had no idea how long he spent digging, remembering only that despite pouring every ounce of his strength into it, he ended up with nothing more than a makeshift grave barely large enough to lay his mother inside.
The drifting snowflakes fell all around, yet he felt no cold. He only remembered the deep agony in his chest, feeling as though he had wept endlessly without a single soul answering his cries.
His blood-stained hands had long since lost all sensation. It seemed he cried for a very long time, and upon returning to the city later, he encountered a plum tree.
The plum blossoms were in full bloom, heavy snow weighing down the branches yet failing to conceal the vibrant beauty of the blossoms.
Mo Yu recalled that the happiest event of his day had been encountering that snow-plum. The snowy scenery and plum blossoms of that afternoon certainly could not compare to the magnificent sights of the mortal world he would encounter hereafter, but to him, that remained the most breathtaking scenery he had ever witnessed in his life.
Yet the scenes that followed left him utterly bewildered; he even felt as though they could not possibly be his own memories.
He saw himself sitting in the spectator stands of a martial arts tournament, gazing at the scene unfold upon the arena stage.
Two figures stood within the arena, but try as he might, he could never make out their faces. He could only watch as a youth dressed in cascading red robes executed a gorgeous flurry of sword flourishes before claiming victory in the match.
At the moment the youth won, the crowds in the spectator stands erupted in cheers. The fierce competition had stirred their passions, and alongside the conclusion of the match, they reached the emotional climax of their enthusiasm.
Meanwhile, that youth who commanded the adoration of thousands flashed a brilliant, radiant smile directly toward the section where he sat. Though he still couldn’t see the youth’s face clearly, he could distinctly feel the unrestrained, dashing pride radiating from him.
He seemed happy, and that plum-blossom-like youth lingered persistently in his mind.
The memory shifted scenes once more, plunging into a hell on earth.
It resembled a battlefield locked in a fierce, brutal engagement, rivers of blood flowing and corpses blanketing the fields. Before he had time to survey the surrounding environment, he watched as that plum-blossom-like youth collapsed right in front of him.
At that exact moment, his heart seemed to stop beating alongside the fallen youth.
His blood surged backward, a wave of suffocating palpitation washed over him, and he jerked awake with a violent start.
When Mo Yu regained consciousness, Li Jingsheng was sitting beside the bed, idly bantering with Xiao Yu.
The sudden jolt of the boy waking up and sitting straight up startled Li Jingsheng.
Hastily checking on him, he noticed that Mo Yu was breathing rapidly, his lips drained of color, beads of cold sweat covering his face, and his gaze hollow and vacant. It was unmistakably the aftermath of a nightmare.
Gently patting Mo Yu’s back, Li Jingsheng recited the lines the director used to repeat whenever he had nightmares as a child: “It’s alright now, it’s alright. Dreams are always the opposite of reality. Dreaming of something terrifying means you are about to encounter something wonderful.”
Observing the clarity gradually return to Mo Yu’s eyes amidst those soothing words, Li Jingsheng prepared to withdraw his hand, only for Mo Yu to suddenly reach out and wrap his arms around his waist.
The strength behind the embrace was immense. He struggled slightly, discovering he couldn’t break free.
Fine, he just survived a brush with death, so I’ll let him hug me this once. Getting hugged isn’t going to shave any flesh off my body anyway.
After a brief moment, Mo Yu’s breathing stabilized. Figuring enough time had passed, Li Jingsheng spoke up, “Junior Brother, just how much longer do you plan on holding onto me?”
Only then did Mo Yu realize his own lack of composure and hurriedly let go.
“Sorry, Senior Brother.”
Li Jingsheng gave two dry coughs to mask his embarrassment. “No matter. Is Junior Brother feeling better?”
Stammering out a reply without daring to make eye contact with Li Jingsheng, Mo Yu answered, “Much better.”
Handing over a cup of water, Li Jingsheng instructed, “Drink some water and rest for a bit first. I’ll come check on you later.”
Accepting the cup, Mo Yu gave a nod.
As soon as Li Jingsheng stepped outside, he was met with a loud reprimand from Xiao Yu: “Host, do you still remember what your mission is? Why on earth are you back to taking care of him?”
Covering his ears to block out the nagging, Li Jingsheng retorted, “Will you keep it down for a second? I fell sick a couple of days ago, and he was the one who took care of me. Now that he’s sick, is it appropriate for me to just turn around and walk away? Huh? You tell me, is that appropriate?”
Left utterly speechless by that logic, Xiao Yu sputtered, “That’s still different! You simply cannot pay attention to him!”
Suddenly recalling something, it added, “Wait! Besides, when the protagonist gets sick, the shou protagonist is supposed to take care of him! What are you doing stepping in?”
Noticing that Xiao Yu had finally remembered, Li Jingsheng tapped it with a bent finger. “Now you remember the shou protagonist? Exactly, I’ve been meaning to ask where your precious shou protagonist is. The protagonist has been laid up in bed for two full days, and I haven’t even caught a glimpse of Chu Wen’s shadow.”
“And you expect a villain like me to look after the protagonist. Seriously, this Novel Management Bureau of yours is too incompetent; these characters are on the verge of OOC.”
Furious enough to practically spew smoke, Xiao Yu’s brilliant red feathers flared as if stained with blood. Realizing it was in the wrong, it could only compromise: “Fine, you can only visit him occasionally, not every single day.”
Smoothing down its ruffled feathers, Li Jingsheng agreed, “Fine.”
Besides, he figured he wouldn’t even be able to visit many more times before Chu Wen inevitably showed up.
Not long after Mo Yu woke up, Jin Yunhao arrived accompanied by Xi Feng. Although Xi Feng wore a thoroughly reluctant expression, Li Jingsheng knew the boy actually cared about Mo Yu, perhaps that was simply the innate charismatic quality protagonists possessed to draw people in.
Even after the two of them had fought so bitterly before, Xi Feng still came to visit Mo Yu.
Though, granted, their fallout was partially his own fault.
Lost in thought, Li Jingsheng watched as Xi Feng abruptly emerged from the room. Jin Yunhao wasn’t trailing behind him, which presumably meant the Eldest Senior Brother’s motherly nagging instincts had kicked in again inside.
Stepping out without pausing his stride, Xi Feng marched directly toward Li Jingsheng.
At that moment, Li Jingsheng was lounging comfortably in the courtyard’s Bodhi tree, propping his head up with one hand while his dark hair cascaded freely. A bright, smiling expression danced across his face as he observed Xi Feng, curious to see what malicious remark the punk was brewing up this time.
Clearly deeply unsettled by that smile, Xi Feng hitched up his aquamarine robes and seated himself on the stool beneath the tree. After stewing in silence for a good long while, he finally blurted out, “I honestly don’t understand someone like you.”
Li Jingsheng narrowed his peach-blossom eyes. “What do you mean?”
Scratching his head as if struggling to organize his thoughts, Xi Feng continued, “It is just that your behavior feels terribly contradictory.”
“You clearly despise Mo Yu, making things difficult for him at every turn, and even signing him up for the martial arts tournament to get him killed.”
“Yet when I saw Mo Yu collapse, you looked genuinely panicked. And afterward, you stayed up night and day looking after him, though I suppose you could be faking it, if someone can pull off an act that convincing, all I can do is applaud your acting skills.”
Finally appearing to give up in frustration, Xi Feng scratched his head again, looked straight into Li Jingsheng’s eyes, and forced out, “And yet, I get the feeling you aren’t acting.”
Taken aback by Xi Feng’s uncharacteristically restraint from needling him, Li Jingsheng took a second to regain his footing. Quickly masking his fleeting awkwardness, he resumed teasing the junior disciple. “Well, would you look at that. I never expected to hear words of praise coming out of Young Master Xi’s mouth.”
Instantly snapping back to his easily provoked self, Xi Feng bristled, “Are you incapable of understanding human speech? I was merely offering an objective evaluation, how on earth is that praising you? You! How can a person be so utterly narcissistic?”
With skin as thick as a brick wall, Li Jingsheng casually replied, “Can’t help it. Young Master Xi phrased things so pleasantly that to my ears, it sounded like a compliment.”
Furious enough to practically billow smoke and utterly devoid of any clever retort, Xi Feng could only bellow at the top of his lungs, “You! You shameless wretch!”
Seeing the boy flushed bright red with anger, Li Jingsheng wisely held his tongue, terrified that pushing any further might actually cause the kid to pop a blood vessel.
Right on cue, Jin Yunhao backed out from the room. After dropping down from the tree to listen to a few parting instructions from Jin Yunhao, Li Jingsheng watched as the Eldest Senior Brother led the fuming Xi Feng away.
Once they left, Li Jingsheng re-entered the house to check on Mo Yu’s condition.
By this point, Mo Yu looked considerably better than he had upon first waking up, his complexion at least regaining a touch of healthy color.
His current injuries stemmed primarily from willingly taking that final strike of golden lightning head-on. Although the lightning’s destructive power had been significantly reduced, for someone like Mo Yu who possessed a mortal flesh-and-blood body at this stage, absorbing it directly still carried mortal danger.
Upon entering, Li Jingsheng noticed that Mo Yu had lost his previous reserve, fixing him instead with an intense, profound gaze. Feeling rather uncomfortable under that scrutiny, Li Jingsheng decided to break the silence first.
“How are you feeling? Is your body doing better?”
Without answering, Mo Yu kept his eyes locked onto him. The gaze was far too direct, making it impossible to ignore, forcing Li Jingsheng to bite the bullet and ask, “Why are you staring at me like that?”
Mo Yu simply fixed his gaze on the other’s garments before slowly lifting his eyes to meet his.
“Senior Brother, do you always wear red?”