From the age of three to seventeen, Zhong Wuxi had been in this world for a full fourteen years. That sounded like a long time, but to a cultivator, fourteen years was merely a fleeting moment.
Although these extra fourteen years were a gift from heaven and he should not be greedy, he still hoped to live a long life if he had the opportunity to change the plot.
Zhong Wuxi performed a cleansing spell and began to recall the details shared by his high school deskmate. The original story revolved mostly around the protagonist, Zongzheng Lan, and did not waste many words on the cannon fodder character, mentioning the Xuanqing Sect’s Holy Monarch taking on a disciple only in the early chapters.
The cannon fodder Zhong Wuxi first appeared when the protagonist was fifteen and descending the mountain for training. As a personal disciple of the Holy Monarch, the cannon fodder was originally exempt from sect trials, but he had secretly followed the protagonist down the mountain without his Master’s knowledge. During the training, the protagonist found many opportunities and made many friends. The cannon fodder, already jealous of the protagonist’s background and talent, became consumed with hatred and began a path of self-destruction.
“You are still young; there is no need to rush to descend the mountain for training. If you want to refine your cultivation, we can practice together.”
Zhong Wuxi ignited a tiny green flame in his palm and lied smoothly: “Fire releases energy and light as it burns, so fire and light are complementary and mutually transformable. Since you have a Fire Spirit Root and I have a Light Spirit Root, practicing together would be entirely beneficial.”
“Junior Martial Nephew Zongzheng, what do you think of this suggestion? Wait, why is your sleeve burning!”
Zhong Wuxi hurriedly cast a spell to condense water vapor into droplets, but ordinary water could not extinguish the Heaven-Burning Phoenix Fire. In a blink, half of the little phoenix’s sleeve was gone.
Zongzheng Lan formed a hand seal, and the flames on his body were extinguished instantly. “Phoenix Heaven-Fire does not incinerate its master.”
The Phoenix Heaven-Fire was the hottest flame in the world. Zhong Wuxi touched his flushed cheeks; it was a close call. He almost got roasted by his own fellow disciple.
“Are you so enraged that you are steaming just because we tied in our spar? Your temper is far too volatile.”
Zhong Wuxi muttered softly, “The Phoenix Heaven-Fire can burn everything in the world to ash. It seems I must keep my distance from you in the future, otherwise, I will die an untimely death before the plot even reaches its climax.”
Zongzheng Lan turned his head.
The young Elder with silver hair and light eyes took a jade bottle with sweet-white glaze and engraved patterns from his qiankun bag, pouring out two pills. Because the Phoenix Heaven-Fire was so hot, the young Elder’s porcelain-white cheeks were tinged with a faint red, like fine white glaze brushed with peach blossoms.
Zhong Wuxi handed the pills to Zongzheng Lan. “I always fear I might go into qigong deviation, so my Master refined these Spirit-Returning Barrier-Breaking Pills. Take one; it might help you control your leaking spiritual power.”
“This prince does not need it.”
Zongzheng Lan flicked his sleeves and hurried away. Zhong Wuxi stared at his back, confused. “Why did he get angry again?”
He still remembered that in the novel, his high school deskmate’s favorite character was the protagonist, Zongzheng Lan. She said that although Zongzheng Lan came from a noble background, he was a humble and polite gentleman; despite his profound cultivation, he never bullied the weak and respected women; and despite his extraordinary talent, he never slacked and practiced diligently.
“I agree with the rest, but the words humble and polite and gentlemanly do not fit Zongzheng Lan at all! When we first met, he told me my talent was inferior to his, and now he is chasing me to spar again.”
“He is clearly just a proud little phoenix. How can anyone call that humble and polite?”
The Snow Cloud Ribbon drifted down from Zhong Wuxi’s wrist. “I often go to Piaomiao Peak to steal fish when you are in seclusion. The young prince is indeed very gentlemanly and humble.”
“Perhaps it is because you are similar in age and ability that he shows his youthful temperament in front of you.”
“A hundred years ago, I visited the Xiling Palace for a month, and the Emperor was very kind as well.”
Zhong Wuxi turned his head and stared at him in silence.
The Snow Cloud Ribbon stepped back a little guiltily. “Master, please rest assured. When I stole the fish, I did not say you were the one who told me to, nor did I shift the blame onto you. We ancient auspicious beasts never speak falsehoods.”
Zhong Wuxi suddenly remembered something. “Zongzheng Lan promised me earlier that if I sparred with him, he would tell me why he chose the Sect Leader as his Master.”
“I must ask him about this the next time I see him.”
Thinking he had escaped punishment for stealing the fish, the Snow Cloud Ribbon leaned closer to Zhong Wuxi, relieved. “Master, I will help you remember.”
Zhong Wuxi grabbed the little fur ball in a flash and rubbed it viciously. “The next time you steal fish…”
“I will never dare do it again!” The Snow Cloud Ribbon clutched its long rabbit ears and bowed while struggling.
“I meant the next time you steal fish, remember to steal a few more for me, or else I will not have any to eat once I descend the mountain.”
He had decided to follow Zongzheng Lan down the mountain for training. According to the original plot, during Zongzheng Lan’s training period, the cannon fodder Zhong Wuxi would secretly follow him, conspiring with other villains to frame him repeatedly.
The novel never explained why the original Zhong Wuxi fell into the demonic path or how his Master purged the sect, only briefly mentioning the cannon fodder’s end through the words of others. Perhaps the reason for the original Zhong Wuxi’s betrayal of his Master and his fall into the demonic path was hidden in this very training trip.
The night on Jimo Peak was always accompanied by snow. Zhong Wuxi leaned against the window, admiring the thousand pear trees blooming like snow. The glass window reflected the snow, casting mottled shadows.
“Master, I asked Senior Brother Sect Leader, and in a month, Zongzheng Lan, Liu Wan, and the other new disciples are descending the mountain to complete their sect trial.”
“Disciple wants to go, too.”
Yin Jiuli held a scroll in his left hand, his hair cascading over his shoulders like a waterfall.
Zhong Wuxi lit the lotus lamp on the table. “Master, although you can see in the dark, let us light a lamp anyway.”
Since he was little, he had been obsessed with lighting lamps for his Master. Zhong Wuxi felt a sudden pang of melancholy. “If I descend the mountain, who will light the lamp for you?”
“Master, please say something.” Zhong Wuxi leaned over. “Disciple is going to leave.”
Yin Jiuli set down the scroll. “Seclusion.”
Zhong Wuxi pursed his lips. “How can seclusion be the same as descending the mountain? Although I cannot light the lotus lamp for you during seclusion, if you miss me, you can see me in the Xuanbing Cave.”
“Did you not come to visit me in the Xuanbing Cave several times when I was in seclusion? You even brought the pills you refined.”
Zhong Wuxi tugged at his Master’s snowy white sleeve. “But if I descend the mountain, you will not be able to see me.”
“Master, please say something!”
Yin Jiuli lowered his gaze. “Cultivators use spirit beasts for transport; they can travel a thousand miles a day.”
“But.”
Zhong Wuxi opened his mouth, unsure of what to say. He could not bear to leave the tranquil days of Jimo Peak, yet he had to solve the underlying problem. The plot of the novel was like a sharp sword, forever hanging over his head.
“The Xuanqing Sect is a place apart from the world; it is naturally good to cultivate here. However, the mortal world is full of turmoil. What if I accidentally go into qigong deviation?”
Yin Jiuli raised his hand, conjuring an illusion of a painted boat on a lantern-lit river, filled with the lively scenes of bustling crowds and falling flowers.
“Cultivators either find their path in the mortal world or return to it.”
“Just guard your heart.”
Zhong Wuxi did not fear the bustle of the world would shake his heart; he only feared the plot of the novel, but he could not tell his Master about these things. He sighed, reaching out to touch the mirrored flowers and water-moon in the illusion, only to accidentally shower himself in peach blossoms.
Is this not an illusion?
The little disciple stood frozen under the falling peach blossoms, like a bedraggled cat playing among flowers and butterflies. Yin Jiuli raised his hand to brush the peach blossoms from his hair, but he pulled back just before his fingers touched the soft, fine strands.