Ch 58: The Cannon Fodder Won’t Play Along Anymore [QT]

Wuchang Jun opened his mouth, as if to argue, but then remembered—having known this scoundrel for centuries, he had never once won a war of words against him.

After a moment’s hesitation, he chose instead to spare himself the aggravation.

He handed Mu Xing a blood-red miniature sword, no longer than a finger.
“If, one day, you are in need, pour spiritual power into it and shatter the seal. You may make one request of me.”

Mu Xing privately thought that this Wuchang Jun, being squeezed dry by his master, looked rather pitiful.

But that didn’t stop him from accepting the gift.

He received it with both hands, flashing the same brilliant smile as Yue Fubai:
“Thank you, Uncle Wuchang.”

Expressionless, Wuchang Jun nodded, then turned to Yue Fubai.
“The Dongling Prefecture has a secret realm about to emerge.”

That, in fact, was his real reason for coming.

Yue Fubai replied lazily, “A secret realm? And what’s that got to do with us? You think people of our standing need to snatch opportunities from little rogue cultivators?”

Wuchang Jun glanced at Mu Xing.
“Your disciple has already reached Golden Core. Do you really plan to keep him hidden away forever?”

Yue Fubai froze.

Wuchang Jun’s tone turned cold.
“I know you don’t care for worldly matters. But the Dongling secret realm is of the highest grade—Nascent Soul cultivators and above are barred entry. The great sects of both righteous and demonic paths have already chosen disciples to explore it. This is an excellent chance for tempering.”

Yue Fubai fell silent, gripping his folding fan tightly as though weighing it over.

Wuchang Jun didn’t press, merely waited quietly.

After a long time, Yue Fubai finally spoke, his eyes full of worry as he looked at Mu Xing.
“Ah, my little Xingxing has grown up without ever really seeing the treachery of human hearts. What if he goes out there and someone bullies him?”

Wuchang Jun: “…”

But Yue Fubai kept going, still fretful.
“Xingxing is naturally gentle and kind. Out there, whether righteous or demonic, those little bastards are all cunning as foxes. I can’t help but fear Xingxing will suffer.”

Wuchang Jun: “…”

Watching the stern demon lord’s temple vein start to throb, Mu Xing had a terrible feeling that if his master went on any longer, Wuchang Jun really would draw his sword in fury.

He hurriedly stepped forward and cut in:
“Master, you’re overthinking it. I’m strong and clever—I won’t be tricked so easily!”

Yue Fubai still sighed, though he knew in his heart Wuchang Jun was right.

He could shield Xingxing, yes—but was that truly good for him?

His disciple was a cultivator, a prodigy. He shouldn’t be coddled under wings forever, unable to gain real growth and tempering.

Yet Yue Fubai couldn’t stop worrying.

He had once mocked others for being sentimental and indecisive, but only now did he realize—he himself had been carefree simply because he had never had anything weighing on his heart.

After much thought, he finally found what he considered a good idea.
“The secret realm won’t open for a while yet, will it? I’ll refine a batch of talismans and protective artifacts for you first…”

“Yue Fubai!” Wuchang Jun finally lost patience, his cold shout cutting him off.

He looked at Yue Fubai as if staring at some addle-brained fool.
“Your disciple is a Golden Core cultivator, not a three-year-old baby! Why don’t you just suppress your own cultivation and go in there with him?”

Yue Fubai’s eyes lit up.
“That’s an option too!”

Clang!

That was the sound of Wuchang Jun drawing his sword.

---

Half a month later, with a storage ring full of treasures, Mu Xing cheerfully set off under his master’s reluctant, worried gaze.

Yue Fubai loved playing the idle noble and preferred life in mortal cities, so Mu Xing had always lived alongside him in such places.

As a result, he was genuinely curious about the wider world of cultivators.

Beyond the city gates, ten li east, stood a travelers’ pavilion.

That was Mu Xing’s destination.

Earlier, Wuchang Jun had proposed sending one of his disciples to accompany Mu Xing into the Dongling secret realm, so they could look after each other.

Cultivators’ senses far surpassed mortals’. Even from a distance, Mu Xing spotted a slender black-clad figure standing by the pavilion.

As he drew closer, the other turned.

Mu Xing almost thought he was seeing a younger version of Wuchang Jun!

The youth looked eighteen or nineteen, his features fine and delicate, but his complexion was deathly pale, as though plagued by chronic illness. And his face bore the exact same stiff, expressionless cast as Wuchang Jun’s.

Right now, those pitch-black eyes fixed unblinkingly on Mu Xing, and he awkwardly tried to curve his lips into what must have been meant as a friendly smile.
“Are you Junior Brother Mu Xing?”

Mu Xing: “…”

Honestly, brother, it’d be less creepy if you didn’t smile at all.

He nodded.
“I am Mu Xing. May I ask Senior Brother’s name?”

The black-clad youth answered, “My name is Meng Ge. Master Wuchang sent me to wait here so we can enter the Dongling secret realm together.”

Though his face showed little, in his heart he was very curious about this junior brother.

After all, his usually icy master had, for once, spoken more than a few words—telling him to look after Mu Xing on the journey.

That was truly rare.

Meng Ge had long since heard of this Mu Xing.

In fact, throughout the demonic path, the disciples of several grandmasters all knew that the elusive Lianhua Jun Yue Fubai had taken on a disciple he treated like his very own heart’s treasure.

But Yue Fubai’s whereabouts were always a mystery, and no one had ever seen Mu Xing.

At first sight, Meng Ge was stunned.

Not because he was bewitched by Mu Xing, but because this junior brother’s spiritual aura was so pure and gentle—it was almost unbelievable.

If he closed his eyes, Meng Ge thought: If someone told me the one standing before me was a spirit herb overflowing with aura, I wouldn’t doubt it.

But suspicions aside, there were questions not suitable to ask someone he’d just met, so he kept them to himself.

Meng Ge was very mindful of his role as senior brother. As they traveled together, he carefully explained the general situation of the Dongling secret realm to Mu Xing, and even mentioned that he had two more companions they’d meet at the entrance.

He explained, “In this kind of secret realm, for safety and to protect opportunities, most people form teams with those they know and trust. Junior Brother Mu, do you mind?”

Mu Xing shook his head.

Meng Ge wasn’t talkative. Once he’d said everything important, the two continued their journey quietly.

Several hours later, they arrived at Dongling City.

Compared with the mortal cities Mu Xing had lived in before, this city—filled with cultivators—was clearly different.

As soon as he entered, he saw that most passersby were cultivators, their appearances and weapons varied and strange. Shops on either side glimmered with treasure light, as if afraid others wouldn’t notice their wares were extraordinary.

Meng Ge led Mu Xing into an inn.

The first floor served food, and when they stepped into the lively hall, quite a few eyes darted toward them.

Most looked at Meng Ge. But after a glance at him, their gazes naturally shifted to the young man at his side.

Clearly the two were together, but why was a righteous-path cultivator walking with a demon-path one?

In this world, righteous and demonic cultivators weren’t locked in blood feuds. Still, since their Dao differed, they rarely mixed well—more like rivals with an uneasy truce.

Such stares were nothing new to Meng Ge. His face remained frozen as ever, and he led Mu Xing straight toward the stairs.

But at the steps, someone blocked their way.

It was a group of young men and women in white Daoist robes.

At their head was the youngest-looking, only fourteen or fifteen, with fine features and a proud air that screamed of being spoiled.

He didn’t even glance at Meng Ge—his gaze went straight to Mu Xing, his tone far from polite:
“Why are you walking with this demon?”

Meng Ge turned his head toward Mu Xing.

Expressionless as always, but from his eyes Mu Xing could read the silent question: Is he your friend?

Mu Xing was wondering the same thing.

He tilted his head at the boy, who stood higher on the steps and thus looked down at him, and asked curiously,
“Do we know each other?”

The youth snorted. “We don’t. I just saw you with this demon and didn’t want you to suffer.”

Mu Xing sensed no malice from him, so he politely smiled and said, “I won’t. Please let us pass.”

The boy frowned. “Are you really that stupid? Do you even know who this is?”

He pointed at Meng Ge. “Disciple of Wuchang Jun. Brutal killer. A little demon himself!”

Meng Ge’s face stayed blank, but his hand had already found the hilt of his sword.

Mu Xing moved faster.

Yes, he was a gentle-tempered little celestial boy—but only as long as no one provoked him.

He and Meng Ge had only just met, but even so, Mu Xing could feel the other’s intent to look after him.

And besides, Meng Ge’s master, Wuchang Jun, was a friend of his own master’s, and had just given him a precious gift.

In short: Meng Ge was his person.

Insulting him was unacceptable.

Mu Xing furrowed his brows slightly, looked at the boy, and said something that seemed unrelated:
“I’m sixteen years old, and already a Golden Core cultivator.”

At once, all the bystanders in the hall turned to stare.

A sixteen-year-old Golden Core? Where had this youth come from? Why had no one heard of him?

The boy in white froze.

Then he saw the exceptionally handsome, almost otherworldly youth before him ask softly:
“Do you know why I cultivate so quickly?”

Without thinking, he asked, “Why?”

Mu Xing smiled, clear as moonlight:
“Because I never meddle in other people’s business.”

The boy in white: “…”

“Pfft!” A laugh slipped out from somewhere in the room.

That broke the dam—soon several chuckles followed.

The boy realized Mu Xing was mocking him for being nosy. His face flushed crimson as he glared furiously, about to retort, when a female cultivator behind him caught his sleeve.

She spoke gently to Mu Xing:
“My junior brother is young and rash. Please, fellow Daoist, don’t take offense. He meant no harm.”

Mu Xing nodded.
“I’m not offended. I already scolded him back on the spot.”

The female cultivator: “…”

Forcing a smile, she said, “I am Xu Mengyue of Yudao Immortal Sect. May I ask, Fellow Daoist, from which sect do you hail?”

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