Chi Changye recited the incantation only once, yet Geng Xinghe committed it entirely to memory.
Following his master’s hand gestures, the boy formed the seals and chanted the spell, causing Jiuyou to dissolve within his palm.
Yet a sudden wave of heat bloomed between his brows.
Geng Xinghe tried summoning Jiuyou once more.
With only the slightest trace of hesitation, Jiuyou reappeared in his hand, wreathed in roaring flames.
Chi Changye was thoroughly satisfied with Geng Xinghe’s comprehension.
In a rare display of active affection, he patted the living boy’s shoulder. “Not bad. Once you grow accustomed to Jiuyou, you won’t need to go through such cumbersome steps.”
In a blind spot where Geng Xinghe could not see, Chi Changye rubbed his palms together. “Come, follow me to the library pavilion. We need to select a few foundational cultivation manuals for you.”
“Mn.” Geng Xinghe nodded, his face breaking into a bright smile. “Thank you, Master. You are the best.”
A rare flush of faint red crept up Chi Changye’s pale cheeks. “Understood. You don’t have to keep saying that.”
“Say what?” Geng Xinghe looked utterly bewildered.
Chi Changye turned and walked toward the exit. “You don’t always have to thank me. A master’s worth isn’t measured by expressions of gratitude.”
He neither needed anyone’s gratitude.
He didn’t even need anyone to remember him.
When the day eventually came that all demons were reduced to dust and he himself vanished into nothingness, as long as no one pointed at his spine and cursed him, that would be enough.
The bluish-purple tint of Chi Changye’s lips, contrasting against his deathly pale complexion, made him look all the more sickly, fragile, and vulnerable to a single blow.
From the looks of it, Geng Xinghe, whose soul was still injured, was far more capable of throwing a punch than he was.
Of course, if anyone wished to put that theory to the test, they would likely meet a most miserable end.
Upon stepping out of the Nine Heavens Lotus Pond, Chi Changye’s complexion improved slightly.
Geng Xinghe removed the cloak from his shoulders and held it out to return it. “Master, the cloak.”
“Keep it,” Chi Changye said indifferently. “Consider it a welcome gift for becoming my disciple.”
Geng Xinghe looked at the garment in his hands, neither quite gauze nor silk, rippling like drifting mist and carefully tucked it away inside his qiankun pouch.
A master’s welcome gift, his master had actually given him plenty already.
But this one was different.
Through the countless years to come, this cloak remained by his side, until much later, when he shattered it to pieces with his own hands.
Peak Chiyue possessed its own private library, housing a greater collection of texts than the main library of the entire sect.
Chi Changye paced a circle inside, pulled out a thick stack of books, and shoved them straight into Geng Xinghe’s arms.
The towering pile of books held in the boy’s embrace instantly exceeded the height of his own head.
Geng Xinghe shivered with trepidation. “Mas, Master, I can’t hold them all.”
“Hm?” Chi Changye glanced at Geng Xinghe, only then realizing he had indeed dug out far too many volumes.
The young man scratched his head, looking somewhat embarrassed. “My apologies. This is my first time being a master to someone, so I lack experience.”
As he spoke, Chi Changye took the books back from Geng Xinghe’s arms, sifted through them, and placed the majority back onto the shelves, leaving behind only two foundational manuals. “There. That should do it.”
One was a foundational cultivation manual, and the other an introductory whip-technique guide.
Chi Changye handed the books back to Geng Xinghe. “I know your physical combat skills are formidable, but a divine weapon is entirely different from an ordinary whip. You still need to study them.”
After a moment of thought, he retrieved a porcelain vial from his robes and handed it to Geng Xinghe. “I refined this for you yesterday. It will help repair your soul. Take one pill daily, first thing in the morning before your daily practice. The effects will be even better.”
Clutching the porcelain vial, a surge of warmth rushed through Geng Xinghe’s chest.
His master truly was the finest master in the entire world.
Lunch was, as before, prepared for Geng Xinghe by Chi Changye.
A balance of meat and vegetables, four dishes and one soup, leaving Geng Xinghe immensely satisfied.
The boy looked up to see Chi Changye merely sitting at the table, sipping tea, and mustered the courage to ask, “Master, can you eat?”
“Hm?” Chi Changye paused for a second before grasping what Geng Xinghe meant.
“I can eat. Even a god can partake in mortal food. I simply lack the desire for it,” Chi Changye explained indifferently.
Geng Xinghe let out an “oh” and lowered his head to continue eating.
If you asked him, his master didn’t just lack the desire for food; his master seemed to lack the concept of desire entirely.
Watching his master live in such a detached, unseeking state made him seem less like a living person.
Chi Changye actually felt as though he saw a look of judgment flash across Geng Xinghe’s face.
The way Geng Xinghe looked at him made it seem as though he weren’t a living being at all, but rather some wooden or icy inanimate object.
Chi Changye’s mouth twitched, though a moment later he added, “Though I rarely eat, I do enjoy drinking tea.”
He favored the fragrance of tea; a cup of clear tea, watching the leaves rise and fall amidst curling wisps of smoke, was a deeply relaxing pastime for him.
“Do you drink tea?” Geng Xinghe swallowed the food in his mouth, lifted his head, and gazed at Chi Changye with burning eyes.
“Then… does Master drink wine?”
The boy asked, his eyes filled with anticipation.
Chi Changye’s first instinct was to say no.
Yet, upon meeting Geng Xinghe’s clean, untainted gaze, the words on the tip of his tongue shifted into: “I’ve never tried it, but I suppose I can.”
The anticipation in Geng Xinghe’s eyes instantly transformed into bubbling excitement. “Really? Then I’ll brew wine for you, Master.”
His maternal grandparents’ family had made their fortune through winemaking, leaving behind a wealth of ancestral recipes.
Because his grandfather had adored him from childhood, he had taught him how to brew wine from a very young age, and he knew a great many recipes.
Chi Changye wanted to say there was no need.
Yet he also felt that giving Geng Xinghe something to occupy his time might help dissipate the lingering sorrow weighing upon his heart, so he nodded in agreement. “Very well.”
The boy let out a cheer.
Chi Changye felt a helpless amusement. “Is a task that requires labor really worth being this happy over?”
“It’s different.”
Geng Xinghe smiled, his eyes sparkling with brilliant stars, and within those stars, Chi Changye’s reflection was captured. “Master treats me well, so I want to treat Master well in return.”
A pale flush once more crept up Chi Changye’s fair cheeks. “Understood.”
After the meal, Geng Xinghe cleared away the dishes and sat down to meditate.
Chi Changye retired to his chambers.
In truth, he was not the only one whose soul was injured; Geng Xinghe was far from the only one.
His energy reserves were depleted, leaving him prone to fatigue.
Chi Changye lay down upon the bamboo couch, curled himself into a ball, and drifted into a heavy sleep.
Following his afternoon nap, Chi Changye headed to the back mountain.
When not traveling down to the mortal realm, Chi Changye spent his time in relentless, grueling cultivation, never daring to waste a single moment.
Qianfan often mocked him for working himself to the bone simply to maintain his status as the number one immortal of the immortal realm.
Chi Changye would roll his eyes and ignore him.
He knew better than anyone that the immortal realm was currently in a stage of vigorous ascent, overflowing with rich spiritual energy.
Yet nothing could flourish forever without decline.
Once the immortal realm reached its absolute peak, demonic entities would inevitably begin to breed.
If he failed to cultivate diligently until the day the Demon God resurrected, was he expected to let Qianfan die in his place?
That was his responsibility, not Qianfan’s.
Once immersed in cultivation, Chi Changye lost all track of time.
Yet today, at the very end of the Shen hour, Chi Changye voluntarily returned to the front courtyard for the very first time.
He was a man with a disciple now; he had to head back and cook dinner for him.
After the evening meal, Chi Changye walked Geng Xinghe back to his quarters.
Passing the lotus pond in the courtyard, the boy pointed to the red lotuses that bloomed perpetually without fading and asked, “Master, can these lotus flowers be picked?”
“Hm?”
Chi Changye glanced at the lotus pond. “What? Are you thinking of arranging flowers?”
As he spoke, Chi Changye reached out from a distance, plucked a few lotus blossoms, and floated them directly into the boy’s hands. “Pick whatever you like, just as long as you don’t rip them up by the roots.”