“What a flatterer, talking so much. Since that’s the case, then go die.”
The person holding the kitchen knife suddenly spasmed and transformed into a wisp of black smoke, vanishing without a trace.
With a casual wave of his hand, the Dream Demon made it dissipate, glaring ahead with blistering speed. Bai Chen brought two fingers together, his wide sleeves fluttering as a blade of ice charged forward, aiming straight between the demon’s eyes.
Condensing black Qi at his fingertips, the Dream Demon pressed it beneath his lips and spat out:
“Break.”
The ice blade stopped a mere inch away from his glabella, then shattered into ice powder that splattered across the entire sky.
Bai Chen arrived by his disciple’s side. Seeing black Qi entangling his entire body, he immediately grasped the boy’s wrist.
Tu Xiao only felt a chilling, pure stream wandering through his entire body, feeling exceptionally comfortable. He slowly clenched his fist and found that he could control his body once again.
The Dream Demon was treacherous and cunning; every time he appeared, it was merely an avatar. He had to make a quick resolution, and while the demon used its techniques once more, he would track down its vine to determine its true body and deal it a heavy blow.
A demon’s regeneration was irreversible—through cycles of reincarnation, endless and unceasing, the next demon would only become even more difficult to tangle with.
The black fog grew increasingly dense as Bai Chen summoned the Sword of Unemotional Severing with a single hand, its white radiance dyed with a glowing, crystalline ice-blue.
“Bai Chen, don’t waste your efforts. Become my person.”
Tu Xiao was momentarily dumbfounded. This guy had some serious nerve he even dared to claim Bai Chen.
He knew that demons couldn’t be killed, at most being reduced to their original animalistic prototypes, which were extremely fragile. Once their true main body popped its clogs, they were truly gone for good. Because it concerned matters of life and death, nobody in the world knew what their true forms were, though he had read the original book and retained some impressions.
The Three Supremes of the Demon Realm, abbreviated as the Three Blacks. Their true forms consisted of a black stone, a black phoenix, and a black fox. He didn’t know which one this was, or if it was none of them at all.
“A toad trying to eat swan meat, and talking big without fear of flashing your tongue. Just based on you? You’re not even worthy of speaking to my Shizun.”
“Why don’t you take a look in the mirror, you unsightly thing that’s neither human nor ghost.”
“Believe it or not, my Shizun only needs a single move to beat you until you cry for your daddy and beg for your mommy, with nowhere to escape and no burial place for your corpse!”
He served as his Shizun’s mouth-piece; if he didn’t curse this demon into a lousy pancake, it wouldn’t be because he didn’t try.
The chilling sensation on his wrist dissipated, gradually beginning to warm up. The Sword of Unemotional Severing in Shizun’s hand had turned into the Bone-Eroding Ice Zither at some unknown point.
Wasn’t the Bone-Eroding Ice Zither something that only surfaced at the very end of the book to fight against the demons of the world? Could this mass of black fog really be this formidable? Could it be one of the Three Supremes?
Once the Ice Zither came out, although its might was immense, the damage it inflicted upon the wielder’s body was by no means negligible. The longer it was used, the chilling, bone-eroding pain was something even immortals struggled to endure, and an immortal body would likewise suffer from unbearable frailty.
“Shizun! I was just running my mouth…” There was no need to use a genuine ultimate move right off the bat, right?
Holding the zither with one hand, Bai Chen plucked the strings. The zither music broke the dawn with piercing sharpness harsher, fiercer, and more formidable. The Dream Demon’s avatar instantly turned into smoke, dispersing completely, yet the performance did not end. A sharp zither note followed the lingering remnants of black fog, surging toward a distant place.
Tu Xiao seemed to hear a voice filled with reluctance:
“Bai Chen, this lord’s death is not to be pitied, but one day I will pay you back double.”
Far away in a demonic palace bedchamber at the ends of the earth, a strapping male demon, completely stark naked, turned panic-stricken as frost rapidly began forming and freezing over his body until it slowly shattered apart.
Meanwhile, the female demon in his arms turned pale with fright, tumbling out of the bed in panicked haste.
“Aiyo, darling, hurry up and get up. How cold the floor is what will you do if you catch a chill? Go accompany Lord Mopan instead.”
A bright-yellow-robed, slender man walked leisurely over, half of his face obscured by a beaded curtain veil, looking luxurious and extravagant.
His voice was light and pretty, but his actions were ruthless. Under a single strike from him, the female demon turned into a red rose, which was held in the palm of his hand and burned completely to ashes in the fire.
Shizun landed safely, his complexion showing no signs of distress, while the Ice Zither in his hand still radiated an ice-blue glow. He felt somewhat curious, wondering how the most formidable immortal artifact in the book felt to the touch whether it was completely indistinguishable from an ordinary ancient zither or not.
Curiosity outweighed concern.
“Shizun, are you alright? Do you feel very cold?”
Tu Xiao reached out to grab Shizun’s hand, and sure enough, it was icy-cold, presumably because of this zither. He glared at the zither, but before he could even touch it, the instrument vanished.
“Magical artifacts recognize their masters; only those closest to them can touch them.”
“This seat is naturally of a freezing constitution, and you won’t warm it up by holding it instead, you’ll just catch a chill yourself.”
With that, he withdrew his hand.
Did the book ever mention that Bai Chen had a freezing constitution?
How come he had zero recollection of it? He only remembered a presence like the bright moon the gentlest and most wonderful existence in the world. It must have been something he skipped over; he basically hadn’t read those thirty chapters of rollercoasters in the original text, so there might have been descriptions of it.
“I’m not afraid of the cold! As long as I can stay by Shizun’s side forever, I’ll be completely content.”
With that, he latched onto Shizun’s sleeve, pressing his face against his hand and rubbing against it like a cat, seemingly rather fond of this coolness.
Shizun’s hands were so cold; there was no such thing as a natural freezing constitution—he simply didn’t believe it.
In the past, when his own hands and feet were cold, Niang (Baidu) said to eat more warming foods like red dates and wolfberries. He thought he should learn how to stew a pot of red date and wolfberry egg soup for Shizun to try.
The icy chill on his face lingered straight into reality. Tu Xiao rubbed his sleepy eyes and let out a gentle yawn.
Holy crap!
Lifting his eyelids, what greeted his eyes was Shizun’s devastatingly peerless face, carrying an overwhelmingly strong visual impact!
The coolness on his face had frozen him somewhat numb.
The reason stemmed from Shizun’s hand it truly had remained cold the entire night without warming up at all.
Could it be that people who cultivated all ended up like this pure-hearted and desiring little, hence suffering from kidney deficiency due to cold constitutions? And given someone of Bai Chen’s supreme realm as the world’s number one, his condition was probably estimated to be incurable.
Out of a man’s sense of pity, Shizun possessed such an unyielding backbone, and he was determined never to commit the offense of acting above his station or follow in the footsteps of the original book’s disciple.
The back of Bai Chen’s hand felt light as he woke up to find his disciple with reddened eye rims, wearing an expression that looked as though he was on the verge of tears.
Kids nowadays were all so fond of crying, weren’t they?
His slightly cool fingertips tapped against the boy’s upturned little mouth, speaking in a soft voice:
“Did you have a nightmare? Don’t be afraid.”
Instead, the Shizun whose hand had been used as a pillow all night was comforting him in return. His Shizun must undoubtedly be the greatest Shizun under the heavens.
“Shizun’s hand was pressed red—it’s my fault.”
“It’ll be fine in a moment.”
“It doesn’t hurt.”
After washing up, they left the inn. Following Shizun, they arrived at a forest very friendly to the eyes surrounded everywhere by verdant trees, lush grass joining the azure sky, with scenery fresh and refined to a fault.
“Shizun.”
Tu Xiao tugged at Shizun’s sleeve, tilting his head up to ask: “Where are we going?”
Wasn’t this simply the plot of a father-and-son travel journey? It felt like recording a xianxia version of Dad, Where Are We Going?
“Wonderland Mountain.”
Tu Xiao nodded a journey of ten thousand miles. With Bai Chen shielding him, even if they walked for fourteen years, he’d be more than happy to tag along.
After walking for a while, they reached an open area, and Bai Chen came to a halt. Thinking Shizun was tired, Tu Xiao fished a piece of candy out from his bosom.
He had grabbed this when leaving the inn. Shizun had given several spirit stones of exceptionally high grade, leaving the shopkeeper grinning from ear to ear, so he had taken the opportunity to grab a few mint candies at the front desk. That didn’t count as sneaking around, right?
“Is Shizun tired? Have a piece of candy to rest for a bit.”
“Keep it for yourself to eat.”
With that, his wide sleeve swept out, and the Sword of Unemotional Severing flashed from afar, landing right beneath their feet.
So they were going to fly back with a sword instead. He had thought too much about his Journey to the West pilgrimage trek.
However, he suffered from a fear of heights; he never took airplanes in normal times, and he hoped he hadn’t brought that symptom across with him.
Standing up proved somewhat unstable. Unable to stand steady and growing terrified, Tu Xiao buried his face into Shizun’s waist and hugged him tightly. He could clearly feel Shizun stiffen for a moment, but he truly didn’t dare not hug him.
He was so scared, and it was so high up. How could the Sword of Unemotional Severing fly this fast? It rivaled the speed of a shooting star.
With wind howling and birds chirping in his ears, a sea of green lay beneath him while white clouds surrounded him on all sides, his vision gradually blurring. Lacking strength, he felt thoroughly wretched.
Enduring for a short while, he could confirm one thing:
His fear of heights was still here! It hadn’t changed just because of transmigrating, because he felt like he wasn’t going to make it.
“Shizun, I’m going to faint. You have to catch me, I don’t want to get smashed into smithereens.”
The wind was too loud; his mouth couldn’t open wide enough, and his voice was inaudible to himself, meaning Shizun probably couldn’t hear him either.
If he fell down, he’d probably turn into a puddle of meat paste, right?
When he woke up, he was resting inside Shizun’s embrace, enveloped in a wonderfully pleasant sandalwood chill that refreshed the mind and heart.
Unsure of what he had been fed, there was a hint of sweetness. Once swallowed, his stomach felt warm, and his dizziness vanished.
“Shizun.”
Observing Shizun’s complexion, he couldn’t detect any anger or joy he only found it pleasing to the eyes.
Shizun didn’t answer, so he called out once more.
“Shizun.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but being up high feels like peering into an abyss. I feel nauseous, want to throw up, and my legs go as weak as willow catkins in the wind.”
“Shizun, you aren’t going to abandon and discard me, are you?”
“Didn’t say I wouldn’t want you,” Bai Chen said calmly.
“Along the way to Wonderland Mountain, there are eight thousand stone steps. If you don’t want to fly with a sword, you can climb up yourself.”
“What!”
The Sword of Unemotional Severing was summoned out once more, and in the next second, Bai Chen soared into the air, vanishing without a trace in the blink of an eye.
“No way, Shizun, don’t leave me behind to walk the stone steps by myself!”
The Sword of Unemotional Severing moved far too fast; he hadn’t even managed to grab onto Shizun’s robe before that patch of white figure was already gone.
“System, system, system, system, system, system, system, system…”
[What is it? Does anyone in your family find you noisy, Host?]
“No.”
The frequency of meeting his parents could be counted on one hand; the two of them had long since traveled the world beyond knowing heaven and earth how would they ever have the chance to enjoy filial piety or listen to him chatter about this and that?
“Does the store have any props that let me ascend to the heavens in a single step?”
There are, but you don’t have the points to redeem them.
“Good system, lend me some on credit first, alright?”
Refusing credit; this System cannot do that.
Stingy ghost.
The System heard that; refusing to have labels stuck on me.
Finding no doors open for begging from the system, he despairingly gazed toward the endless stone steps. He hadn’t even started climbing yet, but the mere sight of them made him feel like fluttering like a willow catkin in the wind, his legs trembling.