Qiao Yiting originally had the kind intention of inviting Zeng Youran to stay with him to foster their bond, but he now found himself in a difficult spot: without pots and pans, how on earth was he supposed to cook?
He himself was fine; having already passed the stage of spiritual fasting, eating or not eating made little difference. However, for a teenager like Zeng Youran, going without food was presumably out of the question.
“I am not sure if Junior Brother is hungry, but it seems I do not have anything edible here.”
Zeng Youran replied as though he had anticipated it all along: “Do not worry, Senior Brother. The sect has a dining hall where I usually eat. Is there anything Senior Brother would like to eat? I can go fetch it.”
Jokes aside, very few people on Mount Qingxuan had moved past the stage of spiritual fasting, or else the handymen would all have starved to death.
“That is good then.” Qiao Yiting gazed at the distant setting sun. “It is getting late. I do not know if there is still food left, you should hurry along.”
His intention in sending Zeng Youran away was to take another moment to sort out his objectives.
His ultimate goal remained devoted cultivation to defeat Qing Song and Qing Bai as soon as possible and escape Mount Qingxuan. Secondly, he needed to work hard to build up favorability with Zeng Youran. Thirdly, he wanted to head to the Herb Pavilion and leverage his professional advantages to thoroughly master medical knowledge so he wouldn’t end up starving to death after descending the mountain.
That night was far from restful for him. He saw himself in the car crash, bloodied and mangled, and witnessed his miserable state with tubes jammed all over his body, a truly horrifying sight.
Likewise, Zeng Youran slept with even less ease. In the middle of the night, he heard Qiao Yiting softly murmuring something, his breathing abruptly quickening as beads of sweat continuously broke out. Daring not disturb him rashly, Zeng Youran could only quietly sit by and fan him.
As the morning light dawned and bird songs echoed outside the window, arriving even earlier than the sunlight at Qiao Yiting’s pillow, he was awakened from his dreams. He turned his head and saw Zeng Youran holding a fan, asleep beside him in a rather peculiar posture.
The corners of his lips curved upward slightly, revealing an ambiguous smile, amused that this kid had claimed he needed to report for duty at Fang Ping’s place, only to undoubtedly face another round of scoldings shortly.
Oh well, he thought to himself, who made me so soft-hearted? Let me go bail you out of trouble!
As a doctor from a top-tier tertiary hospital in the 21st century, Qiao Yiting’s physical endurance was quite decent; otherwise, under that kind of grinding overtime schedule, even without a car crash, he would have worked himself to sudden death sooner or later. Of course, this also benefited from his daily morning exercise routine.
Though the environment had changed, habits remained unchanged, so he woke up early. After grooming himself, he chose the bamboo grove behind Zhiyi Hall to test out the book-reading results from the previous day.
Up until today, he still hadn’t carefully examined this so-called destined natal sword. The scabbard, pure white and smooth as jade, was carved with intricate and complex patterns. Under the sunlight, the characters Yun Po could be seen engraved near the tail of the scabbard.
The sword hilt was even more extraordinary, inlaid with a cyan jade stone. The blade was thin and light as drifting clouds, as though a gentle breeze brushing across it would leave traces on the edge. It truly lived up to its name; simply looking at the sword gave one the sense that its wielder’s swordsmanship was transcendent, distant and unattainable like the clear wind and bright moon.
“Credit where it is due, the aesthetic is quite impressive,” Qiao Yiting gently skimmed his hand across the sword blade, thinking, “I just wonder how powerful it is.”
He carefully recalled every move and stance he had seen in the Scripture Pavilion the day before. Although Qiao Yiting had never systematically studied any sword techniques, during college he had genuinely practiced Tai Chi swordplay, and he still retained the original body’s muscle memory.
He turned and drew his sword, every movement looking remarkably authentic. With a flick of his long sword, sword light surged forth like a flying streak of white silk. The sword tip deflected, and brilliant dots of sword blossoms fell upon the scattered bamboo leaves. In an instant, emerald bamboo leaves fluttered everywhere, drifting down like snowflakes.
Just as he was feeling pleased with himself and preparing to execute the second move, the sword in his hand seemed to come alive, reacting faster than he could to execute a form that twisted his wrist abruptly and sent the sword slipping out of his grip to clatter onto the ground.
“Hiss, that hurts,” he cradled his sprained wrist, puzzled. “Is this sword alive or something?”
He picked up the sword and examined it thoroughly once more, finding no obvious clues. “Who on earth can I complain to about this?”
Just as he was fretting over how to resolve the problem of his disobedient natal sword, Zeng Youran came to tell him he needed to rush over to Fang Ping’s place and asked if he would accompany him. Of course Qiao Yiting was going along, so he temporarily tossed the sword issue to the back of his mind.
Looking at the silent Zeng Youran, he truly wanted to test whether he could reshape Zeng Youran’s future gloomy and deranged personality with his own strength. After all, didn’t people say that humans are born inherently good?
“Junior Brother, do you know why Eldest Senior Brother always speaks harshly to you and even resorts to physical violence?” he probed cautiously.
Zeng Youran replied without hesitation: “Because I always fail to do what Eldest Senior Brother assigns me properly.”
Looking at the pitiful expression of the person before him, he didn’t know how to comfort him for a moment. “You might as well treat it as a trial. After all, with Master away, whatever you learn is entirely up to Eldest Senior Brother to decide.”
Immediately following that, he placed his well-knuckled hand on Zeng Youran’s head and continued: “When Heaven is about to place a great responsibility on a person, it always first frustrates their spirit, exhausts their muscles and bones, and starves their body. No doubt Eldest Senior Brother harbors high expectations for you.”
As if.
He had no idea what he was talking about either, but he still found it strange. The book never explained why Fang Ping unilaterally abused Zeng Youran; it seemed as though such a villainous role was simply required to exist.
Moreover, the descriptions of their master in the original novel were also quite sparse. Presumably, without Master’s tacit approval, Fang Ping wouldn’t have acted like that.
Yet, in the eyes of others, their master didn’t seem like a bad person. On the contrary, for the sake of the sect’s development, he went out to secure sponsorships, and secondly, he hadn’t ignored the infant girl abandoned at the gates, raising and caring for her instead, which was now the Third Senior Sister.
As for Qiao Yiting himself, the master even felt he possessed considerable talent, entrusting him with the heavy responsibility of reviving the sect, though he ultimately fell defeated in the hands of the deranged Zeng Youran.
He thought to himself: “Could Zeng Youran be the child of Master’s romantic rival? Truly baffling.”
Meanwhile, Zeng Youran looked at the slightly frowning Qiao Yiting and asked, “Senior Brother, what does that mean?”
He suddenly realized that before coming up the mountain, Zeng Youran hadn’t attended school and probably couldn’t recognize many characters, so he patiently explained: “It means that if Heaven intends to bestow a great burden upon someone, it must first make their inner spirit suffer and their physical body toil, in short, making them endure every kind of hardship to temper their indomitable will.”
Seeing Zeng Youran nod in sudden realization, Qiao Yiting wore a satisfied smile, thinking, “I really am a top-tier teaching expert.”
Fang Ping’s residence wasn’t hard to find; it was located on the other side near the martial practice ground. The environment was quite pleasant, surrounded by green pines and emerald cypresses, resembling less of ordinary quarters and more of a grand estate. It even had a plaque hanging above reading Emerald Shadow Garden, imposing and luxurious.
The main point was that not only did it look imposing, but there were even gate-attending boy servants at the entrance!
The little boy servant looked quite young, with delicate and handsome features. Seeing the two arrive, he immediately cupped his hands in greeting: “Two Senior Brothers, are you here to see Senior Brother Fang?”
“Indeed.”
“Senior Brother Fang is currently practicing his sword, the two Senior Brothers may go straight in.” With that, the boy servant made a welcoming gesture.
Entering the gate, Qiao Yiting began looking around to inspect the courtyard’s furnishings. The gate opened directly into the reception hall, while the study and bedroom were likely on either side of it.
Turning his head, he saw Fang Ping approaching with sword in hand, charging straight toward Qiao Yiting. The incident happened so abruptly that he had no time to react and stood stunned in place for a moment.
Fang Ping shifted his sword stance and smoothly sheathed the sword behind his back. “Junior Brother, what is wrong with you? Why didn’t you parry?”
Still shaken, Qiao Yiting swayed almost imperceptibly, nearly collapsing, his face completely drained of color. “Senior Brother lunged with his sword so abruptly, it really gave me a fright. Senior Brother’s martial prowess is truly… growing increasingly profound.”
Fang Ping handed his sword to the nearby boy servant. “Junior Brother, do not shower me with unearned praise. But I see your complexion does not look too good, you should mind your health and properly recuperate.”
“How now, did Junior Brother not take good care of you?”
Though his words expressed concern, his expression conveyed something entirely different, and Qiao Yiting could naturally detect the sarcasm in his tone.
“I came here this time specifically to discuss matters concerning Junior Brother with you.”
While speaking, Qiao Yiting had already followed Fang Ping to the reception hall and sat down under his guidance, probing tentatively: “Regarding yesterday’s matter, Eldest Senior Brother, you are not angry anymore, are you?”
Fang Ping did not answer him. As he picked up his cup of hot tea, he lifted his gaze to glance at Qiao Yiting, which counted as tacit agreement.
“Eldest Senior Brother, Master is currently traveling afar,” Qiao Yiting knew how to read the room; after all, since he was on Fang Ping’s turf, he softened his tone. “Junior Brother is still young and currently has no idea what his natal weapon is. I was wondering, could Junior Brother be allowed to study sword techniques with me first?”
Before he even finished speaking, he heard Fang Ping sneer: “Hold a sword? Is he even worthy? Go ask him first how many characters he recognizes! Can he even read a sword manual?”
“In Senior Brother’s view, how about we start from the basics, beginning with literacy and handwriting practice?” Qiao Yiting looked at Zeng Youran, who was sweeping outside. “I believe Junior Brother is very motivated.”
“I am only afraid he is a piece of rotten wood, unable to even handle routine chores properly, yet you expect him to accomplish anything else?”
Qiao Yiting sighed inwardly. “That is not necessarily true. Why not let me teach him?”
“Very well.” Fang Ping glanced at him, then shouted toward the outside, “Junior Brother, come in!”
“Your Sixth Senior Brother is willing to teach you, so follow him and learn properly.”
Qiao Yiting had thought victory was certain, assuming Zeng Youran would definitely leave with him, only to receive the reply: “Thank you, Senior Brother, but I still wish to stay by Eldest Senior Brother’s side.”
Dumbfounded, Qiao Yiting finally understood why Fang Ping had assumed the posture of a victor earlier, completely dismissing his request, let alone caring about Zeng Youran’s life or death.
No wait, what kind of entity am I anyway? Qiao Yiting couldn’t help roasting himself.
Yet even so, he still had to blurt out that question: “Why?”
Zeng Youran’s subsequent reply made Qiao Yiting fully understand what it meant to lift a rock only to drop it on one’s own foot: “Sixth Senior Brother said that when Heaven intends to bestow a great responsibility upon someone, it must first, it must first, er, in short, I want Eldest Senior Brother to temper me into someone even more formidable!”
Hearing this, Fang Ping burst out laughing heartily. “Sixth Senior Brother, looking at it this way, you cannot blame me for not imparting knowledge and solving doubts for him.”
No way, was this Zeng Youran a massive masochist? He finally understood: not a single sword cultivator in this entire sect was normal!
Carrying a head full of question marks, Qiao Yiting floated out of Emerald Shadow Garden. Originally, he had wanted to keep Zeng Youran under his own nose so at least nothing unexpected would happen to him, but now that plan had fallen through. It seemed that no matter where he was, focusing on one’s own self-cultivation was the most reliable path.
That was when he remembered his wrist sprained by the sword, so he simply headed straight to the Herb Pavilion.
Watching Xue Yun furrow his brow while taking his pulse, shaking his head from time to time and letting out sighs, Qiao Yiting felt he understood that feeling all too well. Whenever he saw a patient whose condition wasn’t looking great, he would make the exact same expression as Xue Yun, perhaps even more exaggeratedly.
Yet with the roles reversed now, it inevitably made him somewhat anxious. “Senior Brother, what on earth is wrong with me?”
Hearing him ask, Xue Yun raised his eyes to look at him and let out another sigh, making Qiao Yiting’s scalp tingle. He had already died once in the real world; could it be that transmigrating into a good-for-nothing cultivator had landed him a terminal illness?
“Has Junior Brother been circulating your true qi lately?”
“Not really.” Qiao Yiting only then realized he seemed completely incapable of mobilizing true qi.
“That lines up then. You originally lapsed into unconsciousness due to a cultivation deviation, and upon waking up you failed to timely mobilize your true qi on your own to regulate your body. Naturally, the true qi within your body is in utter chaos. Observing your pulse, it feels sluggish and wiry, causing your energy pathways to stagnate. With blood and qi circulation inevitably obstructed, you naturally experience instability when gripping a sword.”
“Then what should I do?” He couldn’t stay like this forever! If things continued this way, how was he going to defeat those two mountain-guarding boy attendants!
Xue Yun turned his face slightly and chuckled softly. “The answer, and how to go about it, isn’t it already obvious?”
Thus, Qiao Yiting’s mind cleared up instantly. After thanking Xue Yun, he headed straight toward the Scripture Pavilion.
He had originally assumed all the cultivation of the original body would be at his disposal, but it now appeared his cultivation level remained unchanged while he simply didn’t know how to wield it. It was much like having a feast of delicacies spread before him, where not only did he lack chopsticks, but forks and knives were out of the question, and even his hands were locked beneath the table, unable to eat despite seeing the food.
“Why are there difficult obstacles everywhere? I can’t protect the male lead, and I don’t know how to use my own magic spells either. This is like a eunuch visiting a brothel,” Qiao Yiting couldn’t help complaining inwardly.
Reforming the male lead, this road was temporarily a dead end; as for devoted cultivation to defeat Qing Song and Qing Bai, it was a long and arduous journey. He could only learn step-by-step from the very basics. What else could he do? He could only cross each barrier as it came.