A birthday gift—just a few words were enough to make Su Li tremble all over.
Before meeting Master, he had no concept of a “birthday gift” whatsoever.
He still remembered how, during the freezing midwinter, he had fought with stray dogs on the street for food, chased through several streets by them before discovering that the mantou in his mouth had already turned sour and spoiled.
He ate a bite, spat out half, and then had to suppress his nausea to force himself to eat the rest.
He crawled back beneath the bridge, biting off half a mouthful of leftover porridge that had frozen into a block of ice. His teeth were so cold his entire body shivered, yet he seemed unable to feel it.
At that time, he saw a rich young master on the bridge celebrating his birthday. The young master rode a bay pony across the bridge, with servants clearing the way in front and a long queue of various gifts behind him. The townspeople and passersby on both sides all spoke warmly: “Young Master Zhang is thirteen this year! He’s almost a grown man!”
How imposing, how grand.
Su Li stared at the sight, losing himself.
No one knew that day was also his birthday.
Then the servants charged over: “Get lost, you stinking beggar!” “Do your ugly eyes even deserve to look at the Young Master?!”
With that, they dumped all of his “possessions” into the icy river.
In the end, they simply pushed him in as well.
He sank in the bone-chilling river water, feeling that he was finally freed from this exhausting world.
The river water poured into his throat, into his lungs, and in his daze, he caught the scent of the silt at the bottom of the lake.
That’s right, he thought, he was nothing more than a handful of foul mud, destined to return to the silt at the bottom of the lake.
Birthdays were meant to celebrate one’s arrival into this world; Su Li thought that for him, perhaps there was nothing worth celebrating.
Before being swallowed by the silt, he saw a swath of white robes, like a ray of moonlight shining into his life.
At that time, Immortal Respecter Lingyue descended from the heavens, gently pulling him out of that cold, stinking quagmire.
Every birthday since then, Master would send him a gift—sometimes writing instruments, sometimes cultivation techniques. But this time was different. Had Master actually custom-ordered a scabbard for him specifically from Feixing Workshop?
Even though the Workshop Master of Feixing Workshop was like a toad pining for swan meat, Master had still done it all for his sake.
The sourness toward that letter from the Workshop Master instantly vanished, turning even into a subtle sweetness.
He dropped to his knees with a thud and said to his master: “Disciple will engrave Master’s thoughtful intent in his heart!”
Lu Yin laughed despite himself: This disciple of his was still so honest even after reaching the Golden Core realm.
He raised his finger slightly, and a gentle breeze lifted Su Li back up: “Keep the scabbard for now. As for your natal sword, once the Sect Competition ends, Master will personally take you to Feixing Workshop to forge it.”
This time, Su Li replied with a smile: “Yes.”
Master was giving a suitor’s item to him, and even planned to personally take him to forge his natal sword. Heh, naturally, it was because he was far more important than that whatever Workshop Master of Feixing Workshop.
No matter how much that Workshop Master missed him, or how many love poems he wrote, the one spending day and night alongside Master was still himself.
What a pity—he must be exceedingly jealous of him.
Now that he had reached the Golden Core stage, the Nascent Soul stage wouldn’t be too far off.
He had to become strong—strong enough to stand side-by-side with Master. When that time came, he would personally deal with those fellows who coveted his master, one by one.
And so, Su Li headed back to Zhuxing Residence carrying the gift box, completely unaware that in the bedchamber behind him, Lu Yin stood gazing at that crookedly written letter, his expression somewhat dazed.
The Workshop Master of Feixing Workshop…
In truth, the Workshop Master of Feixing Workshop was Lu Yin himself.
It was just that he had borrowed the puppetry techniques of Shi Zeyi from a previous mini-world to build Feixing Workshop, even helping several grand cultivators forge magic treasures and weapons tailored to their spiritual roots.
Therefore, the gift given to Su Li was something he had prepared long ago.
However, the Shi Zeyi of that world was truly a genuine master of artifact refinement and mechanisms…
The letter was something he had left behind for himself before entering this world. Lu Yin only thought that perhaps within it lay a method to attract the eighth soul fragment…
The moment his snow-white fingertip pried open that letter, he was instantly swept into the scroll by a wave. His neat garments peeled away layer by layer, leaving only his snow-white inner robe completely soaked through. A strong, youthful body leaned up against him, biting his earlobe while whispering: “Since we can’t connect spiritually even when meeting, why not come and experience the newly developed puppetry technique I recently came up with? I specifically altered the size of… it will definitely make you…”
Lu Yin struggled frantically, yet was held completely immobile by the “puppet.” He widened his eyes and said: “Shi Zeyi! You pervert!”
The “puppet” turned a deaf ear. Accompanied by those nonsensical words, Lu Yin’s slender and supple body was firmly restrained atop the small boat, drifting down the river as wave after wave surged higher with the river’s ripples.
It wasn’t until evening classes ended and night fell that Lu Yin was spat out by the scroll with a “splat.” He was dripping wet all over, his inner robe clinging to his body, his entire self flushed a faint pink from the inside out. After being tossed about so much on that small boat, his waist truly felt as if it were about to break. He slumped over the desk, gritting his teeth as he recalled the double-dealing advice the artifact-refining master Shi Zeyi had given him before entering this mini-world:
“Be sure to open this letter only when you miss me dearly!”
That black-hearted sly fox! He should have known!
He had to hurry and find the eighth soul fragment; otherwise, even with his Nascent Soul cultivation, he wouldn’t be able to endure it!
Lu Yin looked up and saw the sky outside. Realizing it was bad, he needed to start chanting the soul-nourishing incantation for the projections as soon as possible!
His fingers flicked the Ice-Dust Mirror, but because they were trembling slightly, he actually selected the wrong projection—Oh no, he selected that even more black-hearted master!
In mid-air, a man with silver eyes was surrounded by thunder, looking down condescendingly.
A layer of shame welled up in Lu Yin’s heart—for no other reason than in that world, this Son of Thunder was truly his master.
Having just been played by the puppet master slice, he now had to face the master slice. Although both were soul fragments of Shi Zeyi, being watched like this made him feel as if he had been caught red-handed in bed.
Enduring the immense shame, Lu Yin forcefully finished chanting the soul-nourishing incantation. Unable to hold out any longer, he fell into a deep sleep.
Only the projection remained, playing out scenes from that world on its own in the empty room:
[A scalding palm pressed onto his waist, bringing a tingling sensation—not an illusion, but actual minute threads of thunder!
An imposing voice resounded behind him: “How did you end up in such a disheveled state?”
Lu Yin said in a low voice: “It’s nothing, I just thought about how there are still a few soul fragments to collect…” His tone softened, sounding at first listen like an aggrieved, spoiled complaint.
Then, a pair of powerful arms pulled him into an embrace. The newcomer was exceptionally tall, carrying a heavy musk scent, his spiritual energy overflowing to the extreme… Suddenly!
The spiritual aura around him shifted, and spiritual energy laced with thunderous power flared open, raising countless tiny electrical arcs across Lu Yin’s dripping wet skin.
“Waaah—” Lu Yin was startled. His skin, already sensitized from being tormented, shuddered in a wave of tremors, his whole body turning so numb he couldn’t even lift a single finger. “Master, you…”
The master slice gave an unreadable laugh: “Helping you dry your clothes. Soaking wet like this, where are your manners?”
Though the words were fine, this was still…
And they weren’t even completely dry!
Shi Zeyi gazed at the snow-white inner robe clinging to Lu Yin’s body, slightly revealing the pinkish hue of his skin beneath, and said slowly: “Shall we go another round?”
“N-No need!” Panic seeped into Lu Yin’s tone.
The master slice tightened his arms, lifting the person up and heading straight toward the study.
“Master, what are you…?” Very rarely, the usually composed Immortal Respecter Lingyue actually showed a few traces of guilt.
“Testing your homework,” Shi Zeyi said sternly.
Lu Yin struggled, the silver bells chiming wildly with his movements: “Improperly dressed like this, how can you test me? Wait until I dress properly, then Master can—Mm!”
He was shocked by electricity again.
Shi Zeyi tossed him onto the writing desk. The pitch-black nanmu wood formed a stark contrast with the pale inner robe, accentuating Lu Yin’s fair, tender skin even more. The silver bells were still vibrating unceasingly, creating a scene of intense visual impact.
A study clearly meant for learning and cultivation was now filled with a humid, ambiguous vapor that made one’s heart itch.
Shi Zeyi’s Adam’s apple bobbed. Wrapped completely in his black robes, he loomed over him: “The Hehuan Sect mental technique I had you practice last time—which level have you reached?”
Lu Yin shrank back slightly: “The third level…”
In the next second, Shi Zeyi caught hold of that slender, delicate foot, making the silver bell tremble timidly.
Slender electrical arcs danced across the True Lord’s fingertips as he pressed against the cool sole of the foot: “Not taking it seriously. You deserve to be punished.”
“I have to chant the soul-nourishing incantation for the soul fragments every night, I really can’t…” Lu Yin explained in flustered helplessness, yet his ankle was clamped like an iron vise made of dark steel, unable to budge an inch.
A Nascent Soul facing a Harmony Stage cultivator was like a young child against a giant—completely crushed. What’s more, Shi Zeyi’s innate Thunder Spiritual Root naturally suppressed his Ice Spiritual Root.
Shi Zeyi’s silver-white eyes seemed completely emotionless, yet appeared deep enough to be consumed by deep affection: “As your master, I told you before: if you cannot cultivate to the eighth level, once we combine, you will absolutely be unable to endure it. When that time comes, your dantian will burst, and your life may be at risk.”
The silver bell rang reluctantly.
Xuan Ming clamped Lu Yin’s ankle, pulling him close to bestow a deep kiss. Raising himself up again, thunderous light flickered at his fingertips:
“Tonight, your master shall accompany you to practice well.”
“Do not recite the mental technique incorrectly, or else…”]
This projection was merely a story of Lu Yin and Shi Zeyi’s slice in that world. Even if projected, it should have been nothing more than meaningless spiritual light, incapable of being spied upon by anyone. Yet for some reason, Su Li was once again awakened from his deep slumber: it was still the familiar chime of the bell, only this time, it vibrated loudly and urgently.
“Master?” He sat up and followed the sound of the bell.
He didn’t realize that he hadn’t come in his physical body, but rather in the form of his divine soul—this was the soul projection technique that could normally only be mastered at the Nascent Soul stage, yet as a favored child of heaven, he had mastered it an entire realm early.
The end of the bell chimes was not the bedchamber, but Immortal Respecter Lingyue’s study.
Su Li was moved: Worthy of Master, actually cultivating late into the night.
As he drew closer, he heard Master’s voice, clear as the wind and moon: “Crossing the river on a single reed to govern the waters. If the rolling waves rise again, then…”
Indeed, even Master’s voice when reciting mental techniques sounds so wonderful, Su Li thought.
“If the rolling waves stack up, then—Mm!” After a suppressed gasp, the bells trembled violently, followed by rapid, heavy breathing, as if recovering from something.
A voice that sounded both familiar and unfamiliar echoed: “Wrong. ‘When the rolling waves stack up, it is like a fish finding water’—redo this sentence. You must know that the Hehuan mental technique deals with facing many with one. Miss it by a hair’s breadth, and you’ll lose by a thousand miles. You must not be careless.”
Hehuan mental technique?!
Wasn’t that a demonic technique that all righteous sects sneered at?!
Facing many with one?!
Did it mean what he thought it meant?!
Su Li stood rooted to the spot, as if struck by lightning.
Who the unfamiliar man in the study was no longer mattered. What mattered was that he seemed to understand why Master had different men entering and leaving his bedchamber—none of them were Master’s Dao companion, yet all of them were Master’s Dao companions.
Waves of darkness rushed before Su Li’s eyes. He didn’t even realize that he was currently in a soul projection state; otherwise, the moment he approached, he would have awakened his sleeping master, and the projection would have shut down instantly.
Soul projection was ultimately too exhausting for his spiritual energy. He finally lost consciousness and returned to his body.
[Inside the study, Shi Zeyi tilted his head slightly: “Hmm?”
Lu Yin was still tensing his toes, working hard to recite the mental technique: “What’s wrong?”
Shi Zeyi turned his head back, saying with wicked amusement: “Continue. Did I tell you to stop?”
In the dreamscape, the bells chimed all night long.]
The next day: the Sect Competition.