Ch 56: The Cannon Fodder Won’t Play Along Anymore [QT]

Yue Fubai circled Mu Xing twice, scrutinizing him from head to toe.

Mu Xing, baffled under his gaze: “Master?”

Swish!

Yue Fubai suddenly snapped his fan shut and burst into laughter:
“I was wondering—someone as promising as you, shouldn’t those rigid old fogeys of the righteous path be cherishing you like a treasure? How did I get so lucky to pick you up instead?”

And yet, someone had even maliciously dug out Mu Xing’s spiritual root.

Mu Xing: “?”

He was just about to ask when Yue Fubai, in a very good mood, reached out to pat his head and said with a smile:
“Good disciple, don’t worry. I’ll go dig through the demonic path’s classics and see how to handle someone like you.”

Mu Xing: “??”

But Yue Fubai told him nothing more. In high spirits, he even hummed a little tune as he left, roguishly elegant as always.

Left puzzled, Mu Xing was instead looked after comfortably by the pretty young ladies of the residence while Yue Fubai was away.

Three days later, Yue Fubai returned.

Mysteriously, he pulled something from his robe and handed it to Mu Xing:
“Good disciple, take this.”

Mu Xing: “?”

He reached out and accepted the palm-sized oval piece of white jade. The moment he touched it, his mind was flooded with knowledge.

The Pinching Flower Finger, The Compassionate Dharma Image, The Eight Desolation Canon, The Nine Schools of Deception…

They looked like various cultivation manuals, and just from the names, it was clear they weren’t of the same lineage.

Mu Xing, astonished: “These are…?”

Yue Fubai smiled faintly: “Cultivation methods.”

He said, “They’re all top-grade techniques. Whichever pleases you, practice it. If you have the ability, learn several at once.”

He added, “Your spiritual root has been damaged, but that’s not much of an issue. Most demonic techniques don’t depend heavily on such things.”

Looking at the heap of manuals, Mu Xing softly asked:
“Master… where did these come from?”

At this, Yue Fubai immediately made a pained expression.

He sighed: “Ah, for your sake, I really paid dearly this time.”

Shaking his fan, he lamented: “I had to trade for them. Those bastards fleeced me badly.”

Mu Xing was silent a moment, then asked:
“But things like The Pinching Flower Finger and The Compassionate Dharma Image… don’t they sound… awfully proper for demonic techniques?”

He didn’t want to say it outright, but these clearly sounded like Buddhist teachings.

“Oh, that.” Yue Fubai waved it off. “The Buddhist sect. Those bald donkeys are stingy and refused to trade. So I snuck in and stole them.”

Mu Xing: “…”

Now he was absolutely sure—his master was definitely a towering thigh to cling to.

It’s just… this thigh might not be so easy to cling to outside.

Hadn’t he made too many enemies already?

What if someday, out in the world, he revealed who his master was—wouldn’t people chase him across eight thousand miles?

He dared not say, dared not ask.

But Yue Fubai, seeing his little disciple’s worried expression, immediately guessed his thoughts.

He tapped Mu Xing’s head with his fan and snorted: “Silly child, don’t overthink.”

Then, gleefully sweeping his sleeve, he conjured a whole table full of treasures:
“Come, come, disciple, time to receive gifts!”

The radiance of treasures nearly blinded Mu Xing.

He looked at the clearly extraordinary items with confusion.

Yue Fubai beamed:
“My wine-and-meat friends, the ones I don’t usually keep in touch with, insisted on sending gifts when they heard I’d taken a disciple. I couldn’t refuse. Just some ordinary trinkets. There are formations on them—I’ll teach you how to bind them.”

And so, Mu Xing obtained a storage ring—along with a storage ring packed full of “ordinary trinkets.”

At this point, he was still naïve, really believing they were just pretty but useless playthings. He had no idea that, at barely seven years old, he was already one of the richest little lords in the cultivation world.

---

Because Yue Fubai had formally conducted the apprenticeship ceremony, the pretty young ladies in the residence now treated Mu Xing far more reverently.

Though still affectionate, the casual gestures—like ruffling his hair or bending down to kiss his cheek—completely disappeared.

Yue Fubai used to go out frequently, sometimes gone for ten days or half a month. But after taking in this little disciple, he spent most of his time at home.

Yet he didn’t rush to teach Mu Xing much. Instead, he had him begin with The Compassionate Dharma Image.

According to Yue Fubai: Buddhist methods were the most balanced and temperate, slow but steady, perfect as a foundation. He saw nothing wrong with a demonic cultivator using a Buddhist technique to build basics.

He also gave Mu Xing a palm-sized violet jade bottle, filled with a dark purple, misty liquid—something that was very demonic.

Yue Fubai told Mu Xing to drink one drop daily.

The bottle was clearly a magical artifact. Though it looked small, the liquid inside never diminished.

That night, the long-silent system finally woke up, entering Mu Xing’s dreams.

Looking at the child before it, it felt something was… different.

Then, rapidly reviewing Mu Xing’s progress in this world, it was horrified:
“You—how could you be cultivating the Path of Ruthlessness?!”

But Mu Xing looked even more shocked:
“Huh? What Path of Ruthlessness?”

He had asked Yue Fubai what his Dao was, but Yue Fubai only shook his head, telling him:
“You—don’t think too much. Cultivate however you wish. Follow your heart.”

If another pampered seven-year-old disciple had gotten this kind of answer, they’d probably pester endlessly until they got a clear explanation.

But Mu Xing only asked once. Since Yue Fubai told him not to think about it, he really didn’t think about it again.

This reaction only confirmed Yue Fubai’s suspicions, making him feel sure he hadn’t misjudged.

Meanwhile, the glowing orb was acting like the sky had fallen, ignoring Mu Xing’s questions and mumbling over and over:
“How could it be the Path of Ruthlessness? Why did you of all things have to cultivate the Path of Ruthlessness?”

Mu Xing frowned. Seeing it immersed in its own world, he wasn’t impatient. He just sat cross-legged, waiting until the orb had vented enough before calmly asking:
“What Path of Ruthlessness? Am I really cultivating that?”

The orb’s tone carried despair:
“No wonder I could never guide you properly—you’re actually heartless, desireless, emotionless.”

Mu Xing didn’t like that at all.

He said unhappily:
“Who’s heartless and emotionless? That sounds awful.”

The orb flickered violently, like a candle shivering in the wind—Mu Xing feared it might go dark any second.

At last it murmured faintly:
“‘Heartless’ doesn’t mean truly without feelings… You… sigh. They say people aren’t grass or trees—who could truly be without emotion? You…”

Then it suddenly cut off, whispering:
“So that’s how it is.”

Listening to its cryptic rambling, Mu Xing puffed up his cheeks in irritation.

“You’re so annoying. I don’t want to hear you mumble anymore.”

The moment he said it, his awareness snapped out of that strange place.

Mu Xing opened his eyes in bed.

He realized something: at first, the orb could enter his dreams whenever it wished, and only it could let him leave.

But now, it could only appear occasionally, and if Mu Xing wanted to exit, he just needed a single thought.

In other words, the balance of control between him and the orb was shifting—toward him.

Before he could reflect further, a knock came at the door.

Yue Fubai’s voice drifted in from outside:
“Xingxing, are you awake? May I come in?”

He had once wanted to give Mu Xing a more elegant name, but Mu Xing refused to change. Yue Fubai hadn’t forced it.

At first, Yue Fubai had called him “Xing’er,” like other masters called their disciples. But the beautiful sisters in the residence all called him “Young Master Xingxing,” and he found the doubled syllable even cuter.

Mu Xing climbed out of bed, rubbing his eyes:
“Master, please come in.”

Yue Fubai entered, moonlight at his back. Though it was deep night, not a single thread of his clothes or hair was out of place.

Coming to the bedside, his expression carried a trace of concern:
“Did you just have a dream?”

Mu Xing paused. Well, being dragged off by the orb could count as a dream.

He nodded.

“What did you dream of?”

Mu Xing thought for a moment, then said:
“A very dark place, and a voice was talking to me.”

He had tried before—he couldn’t tell anyone about the orb’s existence.

“What did it say?”

Mu Xing remembered and looked up at Yue Fubai:
“It said the Dao I cultivate is the Path of Ruthlessness.”

Yue Fubai’s expression instantly chilled.
“Anything else?”

Mu Xing shook his head:
“Then I woke up. And Master came.”

He asked curiously:
“Master, is something wrong?”

Yue Fubai looked down at him, sighed, then unfastened a jade pendant from his waist and handed it over:
“Wear this from now on.”

This pendant was clearly something he treasured. Mu Xing had lived with him long enough to notice that Yue Fubai’s clothes almost never repeated, but this jade had never changed.

Instinctively, Mu Xing refused:
“This is too valuable.”

Yue Fubai replied:
“While I was resting just now, for a moment I sensed your soul had gone adrift. That’s dangerous. If someone tried to seize your body, I might not be able to stop it in time.”

He gathered spiritual energy, condensed a fine cord, strung the jade, and personally hung it around Mu Xing’s neck:
“This has soul-stabilizing power. With it pressing down, no petty spirits or wretches will dare come near.”

Seeing Mu Xing about to protest again, he raised a hand to stop him, tone brooking no refusal:
“I’ve lived many years. You’re my only disciple. If I don’t give you the good things, who else should I give them to?”

Mu Xing blinked—well, when put that way, it did make sense.

Yue Fubai smiled:
“Just focus on cultivating well. Later, when I take you out, you’ll make your master proud.”

Just imagining it filled him with satisfaction: those old fossils all had hundreds of disciples. But what use was quantity? A disciple should be prized for quality, not numbers.

He added:
“Rest now. I’ll leave.”

Mu Xing suddenly remembered and called:
“Master, wait.”

Yue Fubai turned back, only to see his little disciple blinking at him adorably:
“Master, am I really cultivating the Path of Ruthlessness?”

Yue Fubai chuckled:
“More or less. But your level of ‘ruthlessness’ is far above those so-called righteous cultivators who sever their seven emotions or even slay their kin for a shallow ‘lesser ruthless path.’”

Mu Xing admitted honestly:
“Master, I don’t really understand.”

“Good. You shouldn’t.” Yue Fubai tapped his palm with his fan.
“You’re seven years old. If you understood everything already, what would you need me for?”

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