Being unable to leave the peak for five years was a painful prospect. During these five years, Zhong Wuxi would not be able to eat the Phantom Silver Fish from Piaomiao Peak or see the Red Radish Butterflies of Sade Peak. Every day, he would be accompanied only by the forests and snowscapes of Jimo Peak, and even that chubby little creature would not appear before him every day.
At the thought of enduring such a boring life for five whole years, Zhong Wuxi felt like crying again. “Master, if I cannot leave the peak for five years, then Senior Brother Sect Leader and the others…”
He had intended to ask if they could come to Jimo Peak to keep him company, but when he looked up, he saw the Four-Season Green Feather Sparrow that Senior Sister Xuan Ling had recently tamed. Zhong Wuxi had once used his Light Spirit Root to heal the bird, and as a result, it grew very fond of him, often flying to Jimo Peak alone to play with him. Today, however, the bird seemed to be blocked by an invisible barrier, circling anxiously in the air, unable to penetrate the veil.
There were many types of barriers in the world; most were designed to let things in but not out, or vice versa. This Yin-Yang Barrier, however, seemed to forbid both entry from the outside and exit from within.
Zhong Wuxi sighed mournfully. “Master, five years is too long. Could you let Senior Brother and Senior Sister come to Jimo Peak to…”
Noticing his Master’s gaze land on him, Zhong Wuxi quickly changed his tune. “Actually, Disciple just wants a spirit beast.”
“Very well.”
“Disciple wants a spirit beast that is massive and mighty, yet gentle in temperament, beautiful in appearance, with a pleasant voice, and a bit fluffy.” Zhong Wuxi counted his requirements on his fingers. If he synthesized all these, it would have to be an avian spirit beast.
He suddenly remembered the snow bird from the Ascension Staircase Secret Realm and added indignantly, “But I do not want a spirit beast with legs that are too long.”
“It would be best to find a small spirit beast, and if it is shorter than Disciple, even better.”
Yin Jiuli lowered his gaze, his eyes landing on his six-year-old disciple who was currently clinging to his leg.
Zhong Wuxi remained silent.
Forget it. In this world of abundant spiritual energy, there surely was not a spirit beast with shorter legs than his.
The next morning, the sun hid half of its chilling bite, casting a cool-toned warmth over everything that was remarkably refreshing. Zhong Wuxi sat in the courtyard, absentmindedly carving a nose and mouth onto a snowman. This was the two-thousand-one-hundred-ninety-first snowman. First, he would build the Master, then himself. Another beautiful day had begun.
The sunlight hitting the snowmen created a dazzling glare that stung Zhong Wuxi’s swollen eyes. He dropped his shovel, unable to stop himself from thinking about yesterday’s events. Although he looked like a child and everyone treated him as one, his soul was actually that of a nineteen-year-old, though his psychological age had been assimilated.
A nineteen-year-old adult clinging to his Master’s leg, crying and making a scene.
Sigh, the past is better left unremembered.
But if he had not cried and made a scene, he might have been expelled by now. Sensible children did not always get sweets; if you wanted something, you had to ask for it and strive for it.
After soothing himself with this well-worn bit of wisdom, Zhong Wuxi began to ponder why his Master had been angry yesterday. It certainly was not because he had tempered his body with Dragon Bone Grass without permission. If his Master had not wanted him to use herbs to aid his cultivation, he would not have gifted him those priceless treasures in the first place.
The little creature was dozing on the head of a snowman, clutching a silver pigtail in its arms. Zhong Wuxi glanced at the creature’s face—which was identical to his Master’s—and suddenly remembered that it had also been angry yesterday.
The creature’s first bout of anger occurred when he brought out the Luoying Spirit Blood Grass, a fire-attribute plant personally cultivated by Senior Brother Xuan Mu. The creature seemed to dislike that herb immensely; not only did it kick it, but it also bit down on it hard.
The creature’s second bout of anger occurred when he mentioned Senior Sister Xuan Ling.
Perhaps the creature was not angry because of the herb, but because of Xuan Mu himself.
Zhong Wuxi performed a cleansing spell to clear his chaotic thoughts, and every word he had spoken yesterday became clear.
“Senior Brother Xuan Mu said the Luoying Spirit Blood Grass has analgesic and blood-replenishing properties.”
“Senior Sister Xuan Ling said my cultivation had already reached the early stage of Foundation Establishment.”
Even though his Master had clearly stated that his body was too weak for Foundation Establishment, he had repeatedly used the words of Xuan Ling and Xuan Mu to refute his Master. To an outsider, it would have seemed as if Xuan Ling or Xuan Mu were his true Master.
Zhong Wuxi supported his chin and sighed. Every time he promised his Master he would be obedient, his actions proved otherwise. He was not trusting his Master at all. No wonder his Master had returned the jade token; such a disciple was not worth keeping.
Zhong Wuxi remained annoyed with himself all morning. Near noon, the little creature’s form began to turn transparent. It did not seem to realize it was about to vanish, still floating around happily while hugging its silver pigtail. Zhong Wuxi watched with reluctance as the creature disappeared entirely, but it did not matter—his Master was still there.
He picked a bunch of pale gold Frost Flowers and returned to his room, placing them in the Red Crystal Cloud Bottle. “Master, I made a grave mistake yesterday. I ask for your punishment.”
As expected, his Master ignored him.
Though he missed the talkative version of his Master from yesterday, this cold, aloof Yin Jiuli was the Master Zhong Wuxi was most familiar with. He climbed onto the cold jade bed slowly and sat cross-legged, mimicking his Master’s posture.
“Disciple will never anger Master again.”
Yin Jiuli gave him a faint glance.
Seeing his Master open his eyes, Zhong Wuxi quickly crawled over and hugged his arm. “Master, my snowmen are not finished yet.”
He had only built the snowman of his Master; he wanted to build the snowman of himself with his Master’s help. However, while he had been struggling to roll a snowball, his Master had already built the snowman of Zhong Wuxi into the shape of a cat—a fluffy little ball with its fur standing on end.
“Like you.”
Zhong Wuxi turned his head and stared at Yin Jiuli in silence.
“Cats like fish.”
Well, his Master was not wrong to say he resembled a cat. Zhong Wuxi suddenly remembered his drunken crying yesterday, where he lamented that he would not be able to eat the Phantom Silver Fish raised by the Sect Leader anymore, and his confession that Ye Yizhou had stolen them.
Zhong Wuxi lowered his head in self-reflection. When he looked up again, he found Yin Jiuli had walked quite a distance away.
He hurriedly chased after him. “Master, your memory is truly excellent.”
“Master, please say something to me!”
“I have forgotten many things.”
The wind carried Yin Jiuli’s voice to Zhong Wuxi’s ears. The Holy Monarch’s voice sounded like cool springs tinkling and jade clinking, perfectly matching the vast, snowy landscape of Jimo Peak.
“Whatever can be forgotten is unimportant. Master, just remember me. I will accompany you forever!”
Yin Jiuli turned back.
His little disciple, looking like a ball of snow, came running toward him, his flowing Daoist robes billowing in the wind.
“Master, time passes very quickly; I will grow up very soon!”
Inside a secret realm of the Xuanqing Sect, a youth wearing flowing Daoist robes stood atop a high platform. His hair tie had come undone during the battle, and his silver hair fluttered in the wind, vivid and striking.
“Master, I won!”