Ch 73: The Cannon Fodder Won’t Play Along Anymore [QT]

The battle between the Yudao Sect Master and the Heaven’s Secrets Pavilion Master was still spoken of with great relish long after it ended.

The cultivation world had been peaceful for too long—such mortal enmity, an open and aboveboard “duel to the death,” was exceedingly rare.

Especially since the combatants were both Tribulation-Crossing Immortal Venerables, beings at the very peak of cultivation.

Many even secretly copied the fight with memory stones, treating it as a precious learning experience.

Tianjizi fell.

His strength was great, and having fallen into demonic madness, he was even harder to handle. Truthfully, Ying Tianhai—already carrying injuries from Yue Fubai—was not his match.

But Ying Tianhai knew, and Tianjizi himself knew as well: appearing like this, before the eyes of all, Tianjizi had no path of survival left.

The righteous path could not leave behind such a hidden danger.

Tianjizi had to die.

Ying Tianhai didn’t escape unscathed either.

The wounds from his earlier fight with Yue Fubai hadn’t healed, and now, fighting again in half-rage, half-calculation, he added new injuries atop the old. For at least the next ten years, he would be unable to casually use his spiritual power.

After slaying Tianjizi, Ying Tianhai swept his gaze downward—only to find Yue Fubai had long since vanished.

Of course Yue Fubai and his people had already left.

Ying Tianhai rejected the greetings of the surrounding sect leaders, rose on his sword, and in just a few breaths returned to Yudao Sect. With injuries of this severity, he certainly couldn’t risk recuperating in a stranger’s place.

Back at the peak, Lady Lingyue was already waiting with the sect’s healers. Seeing his poor complexion, she rushed forward to support him.

She clearly already knew what had happened. Her expression carried satisfaction: “Who would have thought Tianjizi would fall to demonic madness? Brother Hai, in slaying this evil, your merit is immense.”

Ying Tianhai, leaning on her, only asked: “How is Mu Xing now?”

He was already planning how to use this momentum to reconcile with Mu Xing.

After all, he had risked heavy injury to avenge him by killing Tianjizi. Surely the blood bond would stir something in Mu Xing’s heart?

But at his question, Lingyue’s supporting arm suddenly stiffened.

A chill rose in Ying Tianhai’s chest. He halted, voice tight: “What is it? Did something happen that I don’t know about?”

Lingyue’s face dimmed. “Not long after you left for the snowy mountain, I received a message carried by a spirit beast, signed in both our names. Inside…”

She paused before forcing the words: “It was that severed spiritual root.”

“That child said—the thing dug out of him, he no longer intends to reclaim. The severed karmic tie, there’s no need to connect it again.”

“If Shu’er can use this root, let him have it. If he doesn’t want it, we can dispose of it however we wish. But do not disturb him again.”

When she finished, silence pressed around them.

Raising her eyes, she saw her partner’s face pale as paper, as if he could not accept this result.

Puh!

A mouthful of blood burst from Ying Tianhai’s lips.

“Brother Hai!”

---

“I hear Ying Tianhai’s wounds are grave, that he’s been in seclusion healing,” Yue Fubai remarked, playing chess with Wuchang Jun.

“Ah, why are you so barbaric?” Yue Fubai scowled at the pieces before him.

The man’s chess style was just like his character—forceful, unreasonable, all attack with no thought of retreat. Playing against him was tense and joyless.

He tossed aside his pieces and swept the board into disarray. “I’m done, I’m done.”

Wuchang Jun cast him a cold glance, then turned to Mu Xing, who was cracking melon seeds on the side. “Don’t pick up your master’s bad habits.”

Yue Fubai laughed in irritation. “Hey, old ghost, when did you start lecturing my disciple?”

He also turned toward the boy. “Don’t listen to him. Look at the disciples he’s raised—what are they like? That kid Meng Ge was fine when he first joined, but now he’s become a miniature stone-faced copy!”

Mu Xing just smiled and kept quiet. His master and Wuchang Jun had been friends for centuries—this was clearly just banter. Even if they truly quarreled, it wasn’t his place to judge right or wrong.

But soon the teasing gave way to serious talk.

Yue Fubai said: “I don’t think that old thief Ying Tianhai will give up Xingxing so easily.”

Wuchang Jun nodded. “Ying Tianhai is a man of great ambition and pride. Mu Xing’s talent is, to him, a living banner of Yudao Sect.”

Yue Fubai curled his lip. “A living banner for Yudao Sect? My little Xingxing is so exceptional—what has that got to do with him?”

Mu Xing nodded in firm agreement. “Exactly. It’s all because Master taught me well. Master is the best!”

Yue Fubai’s face broke into a wide grin. He knew his little disciple was flattering him—but he loved it all the same.

Comforting!

But the moment he thought of Ying Tianhai again, his smile soured. That shameless leech needed to be shaken off completely.

A child he hadn’t raised, hadn’t wanted—yet now that someone else had raised him into a treasure, he wanted to swoop in and reap the fruit.

Dream on!

Yue Fubai: Do I look like someone who eats losses?

And so, before long, the “truth” of those years began to spread throughout the cultivation world.

This version came with many added details.

Especially emphasizing Mu Xing’s tragic childhood—and making clear to all that Mu Xing had already lost his spiritual root, and wanted absolutely nothing to do with Yudao Sect ever again.

Many cultivators, who had thought that with the villain Tianjizi executed the story would end in a happy reunion, fell silent after hearing the full version.

“So that child’s early days were that miserable?”

“After a cultivator’s spiritual root is dug out, the body becomes incredibly weak, doesn’t it? And he was only a newborn… Sect Master Ying is truly ruthless. Couldn’t he at least have found a family to foster him with?”

“Fortunately that child was discovered and raised by Lord Lianhua. Otherwise, whether he’d even survive would have been uncertain.”

“I heard that child doesn’t want any ties with his birth parents. After hearing the whole story, I can actually understand his thinking.”

“Lord Lianhua raised him since he was small, and they have a formal master-disciple bond. That is both teacher and father—such a debt of gratitude can never be forgotten.”

“You righteous sect cultivators are hypocrites! I just had a daughter, and I want nothing more than to give her my very heart. If someone dared tell me my daughter was some reincarnated Star of Calamity, I’d cut him down on the spot! Sect Master Ying must not have loved that child very much. If that’s the case, he already has a new son—why go begging to take the other one back?”

“Didn’t Tianjizi say before he died that the child carried great fortune? Looks to me like they just don’t want that blessing to go to an outsider.”

“Certain demonic cultivators shouldn’t malign others so casually. Since when did wanting to recognize one’s own child count as sinister scheming?”

“Heh. Anyway, demonic cultivators would never do something so vile as digging out their own child’s root and abandoning him.”

“Though Tianjizi wasn’t wrong about one thing—that Mu Xing is indeed now Lord Lianhua’s disciple. To form a golden core at sixteen without a spiritual root—what terrifying talent is that?”

“…”

The “truth” that Ying Tianhai and Lingyue had gone to such lengths to hide spread rampantly, and in just a few days the entire cultivation world knew of it.

As for Yue Fubai, he admired Ying Shu’s fierce spirit on that day. After asking Mu Xing’s opinion, he chose not to reveal the shameful detail—that Ying Tianhai and Lingyue had stolen their elder son’s peerless root to give to their younger son. He left those parts unspoken.

Even so, what remained was enough to make the prideful couple unable to bear it.

Especially Ying Tianhai. Just after stabilizing his injuries and emerging from seclusion, he heard the news, his emotions surged uncontrollably, and he spat blood once again.

Mu Xing’s act was, before the entire cultivation world, a declaration of complete severance—we have no ties at all.

No matter how much Ying Tianhai schemed, so long as he wanted to keep a shred of face, he could no longer go looking for him.

Ying Shu, too, emerged again.

In just those short days he had grown much thinner. The once spirited young master was now pale, silent, and even his eyes had lost their luster.

Outwardly, Lingyue only said he’d been injured. Outsiders did not know what had truly happened.

When fellow disciples mentioned the hottest gossip of late, Ying Shu dazedly sat for a long while before murmuring: “That he won’t come back, won’t acknowledge us—that’s only right.”

He felt he had no face to meet that elder brother anyway.

Ying Tianhai and Lingyue had gathered rare treasures from heaven and earth, sparing no effort to preserve his cultivation, so that he could continue training.

But his talent was now far less than before.

Ying Shu wasn’t saddened. On the contrary, he felt relieved, as though a burden had lifted.

*

Years later, at a joint conference of young cultivators from both righteous and demonic paths, he saw Mu Xing again.

The slightly older Mu Xing hadn’t changed much in appearance, but the spiritual power around him was now purer, more natural.

Barely past twenty, Musheng had already advanced to Nascent Soul, and the name of his genius resounded throughout the cultivation world.

The higher he rose, the more people recalled his origins, and couldn’t help but glance toward Yudao Sect.

Ying Tianhai and Lingyue could only force smiles. They had lost the substance; at least they could not allow themselves to lose face as well.

Many also looked at Ying Shu. Born of the same mother, barely two years apart in age—if the elder brother was so outstanding, the younger couldn’t be too far behind, right?

But after a glance, they were disappointed. This pale, frail-looking young master hadn’t even formed a core!

Years ago Ying Shu had already built his foundation, but after all this time, he’d made no further progress.

Ying Shu wasn’t embarrassed by these gazes. Like the other youths, his eyes shone brightly as he watched the dazzling prodigy on the dueling platform, his heart full of pride.

When one match ended and Mu Xing swiftly dispatched his opponent and left the stage, Ying Shu too lost interest, lowered his head, and sat in a daze.

Since that incident years ago, he had become much more withdrawn, spoke little, often sat quietly like this, and had lost many friends.

Suddenly, a shadow fell across him—someone had sat down at his side.

Ying Shu didn’t think much of it, until after a moment he noticed many glances turning toward him.

Puzzled, he raised his head.

His eyes widened as he stared blankly at the one beside him.

“You…”

Mu Xing was watching the two cultivators on stage exchange spells. He spared a glance to the side and said, “What? If it’s something to say, wait until they finish.”

Ying Shu’s heart jumped nervously. He stammered an “Mm,” and sat quietly at his side.

The battle on stage wasn’t long—but to Ying Shu, it felt endless.

He couldn’t help sneaking glances at the youth beside him. From afar he hadn’t seen clearly, but now he felt the aura around Mu Xing had grown even purer, even more ethereal.

Now that he was closer, Ying Shu carefully studied Mu Xing’s features. He thought he looked even better than before, yet… a few years ago, he could still immediately see his mother’s shadow in Mu Xing’s face.

But now, it was hard to connect the two at all.

His heart felt hollow.

When the match finally ended, Mu Xing noticed him staring, and with a faintly displeased look asked, “Am I not allowed to sit here?”

Ying Shu quickly shook his head.

Mu Xing said, “From far away, I almost thought I’d mistaken you for someone else. You seem very different.”

“Really?”

Mu Xing nodded. “Mm. I still remember the first time I saw you—you were lively, bold, like a little sun everyone liked. A bit spoiled, but not unlikeable.”

“But in just a few short years, how did you become like this?”

Ying Shu lowered his head and said nothing.

What could he say?

That because of Mu Xing’s origins, he carried guilt, heart demons, a knot he couldn’t undo?

Even if he didn’t speak, someone as perceptive as Mu Xing could see through it.

“Is it because of me?”

Ying Shu blurted out, flustered, “No! It’s not!”

His panicked eyes met Mu Xing’s calm, clear gaze.

Those eyes seemed to carry magic—just being looked at by them, his heart strangely settled.

“You don’t need to feel any guilt,” Mu Xing smiled gently at him. “Even if someone wronged me, it was your parents. And besides, I’ve already severed ties with them. What they did, I don’t take to heart.”

“In short, however you look at it, none of it has anything to do with you.”

Ying Shu felt an unfamiliar hand ruffle the top of his head.

“You’re still young—don’t be so gloomy, don’t carry so much on your shoulders.” Mu Xing’s eyes carried a trace of amusement. “I still prefer you as a little peacock with your tail fanned high.”

Little peacock. Ying Shu felt his ears grow hot.

He had thought Mu Xing would despise him, would hate their whole family.

Yet he was gentle, sitting beside him on purpose, comforting him.

Sniffling, Ying Shu looked at him with shining eyes. “You really don’t hate me? I imagine if it were me, I’d definitely hate myself.”

Mu Xing sighed helplessly. “I’ve said the same thing countless times already.”

Ying Shu’s expression dimmed. “I understand.”

He knew Mu Xing’s answer.

He didn’t hate.

Because there was no affection to begin with.

Strangers weren’t worth wasting emotions on.

Seeing the boy deep in thought, Mu Xing stood. “Alright, I’m leaving.”

Ying Shu watched as he crossed the crowd, heading toward the demonic sect cultivators. A man dressed in lavish princely robes smiled as he greeted him.

That was Mu Xing’s master—Lord Lianhua, one of the Nine Great Demon Lords.

A fellow disciple came over to Ying Shu: the sect master was calling for him.

Ying Tianhai looked at his younger son with eager expectation. “What did Mu Xing say to you?”

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