Geng Xinghe went pale in an instant. “Master.”
Realizing the boy might have misunderstood, Chi Changye laughed in exasperation, raising a hand to tap him lightly on the head. “What on earth are you thinking? Your master is taking you down the mountain to exact your vengeance and help you sever your heart demon.”
“Ah?” Geng Xinghe froze.
Chi Changye patted his shoulder. “Stop letting your imagination run wild. You didn’t call me Master for nothing. As long as you don’t choose to leave of your own accord, I will not send you away. Once you settle down and establish your own household in the future, if you want to leave then, I won’t stop you.”
The mere thought of Geng Xinghe marrying and settling down in the future made Chi Changye’s head hurt even more.
Given Geng Xinghe’s wretched destiny, heaven only knew what kind of woman would ever be willing or bold enough not to mind.
Chi Changye sighed, feeling thoroughly helpless.
Geng Xinghe lowered his gaze, his vision blurring once more. “This disciple will not leave. This disciple only wishes to stay by Master’s side and serve you.”
Chi Changye let out a dry laugh. “Do I look like someone who needs serving?”
Thinking of his own disastrous culinary skills, Geng Xinghe lowered his head in embarrassment.
It seemed that ever since entering the sect, he had never once done anything for his master, relying entirely on his master to take care of him instead.
Fortunately, Chi Changye paid no mind to such trifles. The azure-clad immortal produced a silver half-face mask, using it to conceal his brows and eyes. “Come, I am taking you down the mountain.”
“Yes, Master.”
By the time Yue Qianfan arrived at Peak Chiyue to knock on the door, hoping to badger Chi Changye into accepting a couple more disciples, he ran headfirst into the golden lotus barrier of Peak Chiyue once more.
Yue Qianfan: …
Damn it all, Chi Changye! How could he become even more unreliable now that he had a disciple?
The green-clad immortal departed in a huff.
Fine, fine. If it’s not meant to be, don’t force it. There is simply no forcing this.
Standing atop the flying sword, Chi Changye glanced back casually to find Geng Xinghe shivering slightly beneath his cloak, and frowned slightly. “Are you cold, or are you afraid?”
That shouldn’t be the case. He was wearing the Dark-Cold Mysterious Garment; how could he possibly feel cold?
Geng Xinghe bit his lower lip slightly, hesitating for a moment before whispering, “Afraid.”
Ah, how utterly humiliating, he thought. A month into my immortal cultivation, and I am still terrified of riding a flying sword alongside Master.
Chi Changye let out a helpless sigh. “Very well. Come here and hold onto me.”
Geng Xinghe did not move.
He knew that his master loathed being touched by others.
His master stood tall and pristine like an untainted lotus, completely beyond defilement.
For someone like him.
His master would surely find it deeply uncomfortable.
“I, I can overcome it,” Geng Xinghe said in a low voice. “Thank you, Master.”
Turning back to study the boy’s bewildered, anxious expression laced with guilt, Chi Changye sighed, pivoted around, and hauled the boy directly into his arms. “Then let me hold you. I’m cold.”
What an excessively proud and self-conscious child, yet so terribly concerned with saving face.
Being afraid of heights wasn’t even anything to be ashamed of.
Abruptly pulled into his master’s embrace, Geng Xinghe’s face flushed completely red.
The boy didn’t dare make a single movement, his entire body stiffening as rigidly as a block of wood.
Master, Master is holding me of his own accord.
His master, the finest master in the entire world!
Holding Geng Xinghe against him while looking down at the tiny, speck-like mortals scrambling below, Chi Changye deliberated before deciding it was best to lay things out clearly for the boy first.
“Xinghe, the fact that I am bringing you down the mountain for vengeance does not strictly conform to the rules of the Heavenly Dao.”
Chi Changye spoke at a slower pace than usual, clearly weighing how to frame his words. “So you must remember: we do not encourage blood feuds among kin, nor do we encourage retribution in kind.”
Geng Xinghe missed most of those words, catching only a single phrase: does not conform to the rules of Heavenly Dao.
The boy asked with a flicker of worry, “Then, Master, will there be a punishment?”
“There will not. You are my disciple; no one dares lay a hand on you.”
Chi Changye said in a deep, steady tone, “As long as I am here, you have nothing to fear.”
“It’s not that, Master. I meant you, will the Heavenly Dao inflict divine punishment? Or will the sect make things difficult for you?” Geng Xinghe asked softly, carrying an uncontainable thread of anxiety.
Chi Changye was unaccustomed to such warm, intense devotion, causing his tone to stiffen slightly. “No, no one will punish me. It is merely a matter of one’s conscience.”
Geng Xinghe let out a breath of relief.
Before he could speak further, however, he heard Chi Changye add, “However, you are forbidden from ever undertaking such a deed on your own. No one can control me, but I will control you. If you dare to carry out such a thing behind my back, I will break your legs.”
Chi Changye’s voice was chilling, sharp as a drawn blade.
Geng Xinghe lowered his gaze, staring at the bustling crowds far below, missing whatever admonitions Chi Changye uttered next.
Whose vengeance was left for him to exact?
Once his master brought him down the mountain to settle the debt owed to the Geng family, there would be nobody left in this world worth keeping in his heart or dwelling upon for vengeance.
Noticing the boy’s silence, Chi Changye assumed he was harboring rebellious thoughts. He hardened his expression and demanded coldly, “Did you hear me?”
“Mn, I heard you,” Geng Xinghe nodded. “Master, rest assured; nothing could ever make me disobey you.”
“If you are ever coerced by others, I still hope you will prioritize your own survival above all else,” Chi Changye’s tone softened. “After all, I cannot guarantee that I will be able to protect you for your entire life.”
Until the Heavenly Gates opened, the day would inevitably come when he too would face death.
Not to mention the looming threat of the demon race, alongside that lingering remnant of the Demon God whose birth location remained entirely unknown.
He, Chi Changye, would not remain the undisputed number one immortal of the realm forever.
Geng Xinghe remained silent.
Compared to his master, what was his own life worth? Lighter than a goose feather, as cheap as an ant’s.
Chi Changye asked again, “How do you wish to exact your vengeance?”
“What am I permitted to do?” Geng Xinghe turned his head to ask.
“Provided you do not upend the mortal regime, plunge the common people into displacement and misery, or murder the sovereign himself, you may do as you please—whatever it takes to purge the hatred from your heart.”
Chi Changye declared in a low voice, “I should hope I don’t need to spell out that you are forbidden from slaughtering the innocent?”
Aside from that, he would gladly bear the crushing weight of any karmic backlash on the boy’s behalf.
“This disciple understands.”
Geng Xinghe nodded, offering a solemn promise, “Master, rest assured.”
“Mn,” Chi Changye acknowledged, treating it as a binding pledge.
The azure-clad immortal gazed down at the sprawling silhouette of the capital city emerging ahead, sighing silently to himself.
The Great Zhou dynasty had endured for three hundred years; it had truly grown ancient.
While the current emperor possessed a benevolent disposition, his children were entirely devoid of virtue, each bearing the ruthless, predatory nature of wolves.
That Prince Huai, in particular, was utterly devoid of shame.
He had no way of knowing whether his decision to bring Geng Xinghe down the mountain for vengeance was ultimately right or wrong.
Yet if they had not descended.
The hatred burning within Geng Xinghe’s soul was far too fierce; if left unchecked, he would inevitably fall into demonic corruption.
With a divine soul and primordial blood of his own fused into the boy, should he fall to the demonic path, the devastation he wrought would far exceed the consequences of bringing him down for vengeance.
Chi Changye suddenly found himself unable to recall why he had ever grown so soft-hearted in the first place, to the extent that he had willingly shattered his own bones and carved out his heart just to reconstruct a physical shell and soul for a mortal child.
Chi Changye rubbed his temples, letting out a soundless sigh in the depths of his heart.
Very well. Let it be so; we shall cross each bridge as we reach it.
Landing his flying sword upon a desolate mountain outside the city, Chi Changye stowed the blade away.
“This is Luoyan Mountain on the outskirts of the capital; you likely came here often in the past. From this point onward, it is a journey of over half an hour on foot into the city. Can you manage it?”
Chi Changye asked Geng Xinghe.
Geng Xinghe smiled, his expression naive and innocent. “What is Master saying? Not to mention now, even in the past, I could walk all the way home from Luoyan Mountain on my own two feet.”