Ch 132: The Cannon Fodder Won’t Play Along Anymore [QT]

Mu Xing’s little courtyard wasn’t far from Old Master Xue’s main hall, but since it was winter and snow was falling thick and heavy, it still took him two whole incense sticks’ worth of time with his short legs to finally arrive.

As soon as he approached the hall, a surprised voice sounded beside his ear. “Xiao Yu, Xiu Bai, why have you come at this hour?”

Mu Xing pressed his lips together, trying hard to make his voice sound serious. “This disciple has something to report, and requests an audience with Master.”

Unfortunately, his age betrayed him. Soft and tender, his tone sounded more like he was wheedling.

Old Master Xue’s voice softened. “Come in.”

Mu Xing lifted his leg and stepped over the tall threshold.

Old Master Xue was seated behind a desk, turning the pages of a book.

He looked very much like the kind of “immortal” in mortal eyes: white robes, jade crown, handsome features, and an aloof, transcendent air. Ordinary people standing before him would inevitably feel ashamed of their own mediocrity.

The original boy never dared look directly at this master.

Mu Xing dared.

Old Master Xue’s gaze landed on the child before him, a trace of melancholy and longing flashing through his eyes. He asked, puzzled, “Xiao Yu, why is it today you haven’t put on cinnabar?”

That question again.

Mu Xing’s voice was dry. “Because I don’t like it.”

Old Master Xue was startled for a moment before he spoke. “Is that so? I always saw you wear it, so I thought you liked it.”

The reason Mu Xing had come was precisely because, in the original story, among everyone on Crescent Moon Peak, only this master still seemed like a normal person.

He had shown a little concern for the original child, but because of the face before him, he never dared be too close or tender with the boy, afraid of stirring grief. As such, he never knew what kind of days the child actually lived.

He thought the boy imitated Xue Zhongyu out of his own will, some small thoughts of his own.

And he himself, out of his own reasons, never stopped him.

So Mu Xing could not forgive him on the original’s behalf. In a sense, Old Master Xue was an accomplice in the ruin of the original child.

He said, “It wasn’t because I liked it. It was because Aunt Wang liked it, Eldest Brother, Second Brother, and Third Sister liked it, and you, Master, also liked it.”

He paused, then added the name forbidden on Crescent Moon Peak: “It was because that real Xiao Yu liked it.”

Old Master Xue’s expression immediately sank.

“Xiao Yu!” Qi Xiubai cried out in shock and anger. How could he dare mention Little Yu before Master?

Mu Xing turned his head and looked calmly at him. “Second Brother, I already said just now, I remember. My name is not Xiao Yu. I have a name. I’m called Mu Xing.”

“Xiao… Mu Xing.” Old Master Xue beckoned to him. “Come here.”

Mu Xing walked forward. He wasn’t worried Old Master Xue would lose his temper and punish him. A dignified Immortal Master wouldn’t do such a thing.

Old Master Xue examined him closely, raised a finger, and touched his brow.

Mu Xing felt a chill at his brow, but the sensation quickly vanished.

Confirming the child had not been possessed, Old Master Xue’s face relaxed slightly. He asked, “Mu Xing, you must have something to say to Master?”

Mu Xing nodded.

As he recalled what he wanted to say, his tone unconsciously carried a trace of grievance.

This grievance wasn’t his intention—it was the body’s instinctive memory.

“Master, I don’t like studying the zither, and I don’t like making incense.”

He pointed to himself. “This robe is very pretty, the crown is beautiful too, but they’re not what I want to wear.”

“I also don’t want to dot cinnabar on my brow.”

His dark, clear eyes looked at Old Master Xue, both aggrieved and accusing. “Senior brothers, senior sister, and Aunt Wang all told me I had to do this for Master to love me, for Master to care about me. But I don’t like it. When I dress like this, the one you’re looking at—am I still really me?”

These words—Old Master Xue had once said them to the original child.

That was not long after the child first began imitating Xue Zhongyu.

When Old Master Xue occasionally roused from the grief of losing his son, he looked at the disciple who dressed like his child and said something like this.

“Xiao Yu, you don’t need to imitate your senior brother Xiao Yu. Master can actually tell the difference.”

But the boy only thought Master was going to reject him. Stammering, eyes red, he insisted he simply liked it that way, that he wasn’t imitating anyone.

Old Master Xue never brought it up again.

*

Mu Xing’s words now shocked and angered Old Master Xue.

His sharp gaze swept toward his second disciple. “Xiubai, is this true? You forced your little junior brother to do these things? He’s only a six-year-old child!”

He had faintly suspected before that the boy dressed like this to please and comfort him.

But he thought it was the child’s own choice. He never imagined such grievance and unwillingness hid beneath.

And his trusted disciples had stooped to threatening a child!

Qi Xiubai fell to his knees in panic. “Master, disciple only… disciple only missed Little Junior Brother too much! Xiao Yu was so young, and then he…”

He choked with sobs. “Disciple missed him too much. Then Heaven sent Junior Brother Mu Xing to Crescent Moon Peak, and I thought it was Heaven’s sign—that Xiao Yu was given back to us. So I…”

He knocked his head heavily against the floor. “It was disciple’s foolishness!”

Mu Xing looked at Old Master Xue. As expected, the man’s face was filled with sorrow, his eyes faintly red.

“Enough.” Old Master Xue’s voice was low. “It is this teacher’s failure. I couldn’t protect your Little Junior Brother.”

As expected. Mu Xing watched coldly.

Although he felt Xue Wuya was pitiful, he also thought that, as a true cultivator of the Immortal Dao, his temperament was far too weak.

Qi Xiubai’s excuse was so obvious, yet just because it involved Xue Zhongyu, Xue Wuya couldn’t tell right from wrong.

No, perhaps it wasn’t that he couldn’t tell, but that he preferred to stay muddled.

Because this second disciple was one of the rare few in this world who still shared his grief and memories of Xue Zhongyu.

But wasn’t that terribly unfair to the original body?

Xue Wuya looked at Mu Xing. “This matter was your second senior brother’s fault. As your teacher, I’ll have him apologize to you. It won’t happen again.”

Mu Xing didn’t miss the faint resentment in Qi Xiubai’s eyes.

So, he bore a grudge against him now.

He had already disliked this place, and Xue Wuya’s reaction only made him more determined to leave.

“Master, I have a request,” he said.

Snow Wuya: “Speak.”

Mu Xing’s tone was serious. “Thank you for saving my life. But now that I’ve regained my memory, I wish to return home.”

He had no desire to be entangled with the people of Crescent Moon Peak.

Xue Wuya froze for a moment, then said, “Your parents are both gone. Where could you go?”

Mu Xing was stunned.

He recalled that in the original body’s memories, his father was the sole heir of several generations, and his mother’s family line had withered away as well.

If he went back, as a six-year-old child, he truly had nowhere to return to.

He lowered his head, standing silently in place.

Even if he couldn’t return, he didn’t want to stay at Crescent Moon Peak.

He hadn’t hidden that thought. It was too obvious, naturally impossible to conceal from Xue Wuya.

Xue Wuya sighed. Children’s hearts were always the purest—his disciples’ actions had clearly wounded this boy deeply.

After a moment of thought, he said, “I mainly cultivate the sword path, and am not suited to guide you. Taking you as a disciple was only a temporary measure. You are of dual water and wood spiritual roots, with a gentle temperament. The sword path is about killing and cutting—you’re not fit for Crescent Moon Peak. How about I find you a more suitable place?”

Mu Xing lifted his head, his eyes shining, thinking, you truly are a good person.

It was the middle of winter.

In the original story, ten years later, on a snowy day like this, he would be pierced through the heart by the demons’ sword, collapsing in the cold snow.

But now, Xue Wuya was holding his hand, leading him step by step away from that endless expanse of white.

*

The place Xue Wuya chose for Mu Xing was another of the Taixu Sect’s main peaks.

Medicine Peak.

The disciples of Medicine Peak were the fewest among the thirteen peaks of Taixu.

When disciples of other peaks mentioned Medicine Peak, their comments were almost always: eccentric, best not to provoke.

Not that the disciples of Medicine Peak were especially powerful in battle, but because no one knew what powders they might be hiding under their sleeves.

The moment he entered Medicine Peak, warmth surrounded Mu Xing.

Unlike Crescent Moon Peak’s endless snow, Medicine Peak, even in the depths of winter, was filled with gentle breezes and thriving greenery.

Seeing his surprise, and feeling guilty toward the child, Xue Wuya explained gently, “Medicine Peak is different from the other peaks. Because it tends to countless spirit herbs, the main peak is protected by arrays that maintain it like spring all year round.”

Mu Xing nodded in understanding.

Along the way, many disciples of Medicine Peak saluted Xue Wuya, casting curious glances at the child held by the Crescent Moon Peak master.

Most only glanced once before lowering their heads and hurrying on, busy with their own matters. A few, however, whispered to companions:

“Who’s that child Elder Xue is holding? He’s so cute!”

“He looks… doesn’t he look like Crescent Moon Peak’s Junior Brother Xue Zhongyu? But wasn’t it said that he was taken by the demons and…”

The rest of the words were swallowed by the wind, like a forbidden subject.

Xue Wuya acted as though he hadn’t heard a thing, leading Mu Xing steadily up the main peak.

Mu Xing looked all around—the strange flowers, the exotic plants, the pervasive fragrance—it was nothing like the solemn austerity of Crescent Moon Peak. He rather liked it.

Xue Wuya noticed his expression, smiled, and said, “I guessed you’d like it here. With your water and wood roots, Medicine Peak suits you well.”

He led Mu Xing straight up the main peak, stopping before a refined two-story pavilion.

The building stood in the middle of a sea of flower and medicine fields, like the dwelling of a reclusive sage.

“Xue Wuya, why have you come here?” A clear voice sounded behind them.

Mu Xing turned to see a boy of about ten, with delicate features, barefoot, dressed in a short coarse robe, carrying a bamboo basket nearly as tall as himself, seemingly gathering herbs.

As the boy approached, Mu Xing caught a refreshing medicinal fragrance from him.

He could actually call Xue Wuya by his full name?

The next moment, Xue Wuya said, “Yao Wushi, I’ve brought you a disciple.”

That boy was actually Medicine Peak’s master, Yao Wushi?

The elders of Taixu Sect in this generation were all of the “Wu” generation, but in the original plot Mu Xing only remembered two names: Xue Wuya, and the sect leader, Taixu Peak’s master, Jing Wuying.

Sensing Mu Xing’s surprise, Xue Wuya explained, “He’s an alchemy fanatic, always testing medicines on himself. This appearance is the result of his own experiments. Don’t be afraid. It will pass in time.”

Yao Wushi glanced at Mu Xing. “This child…”

Xue Wuya gave a wry smile. “He looks like Xiao Yu—it’s fate. But it made his life at Crescent Moon Peak miserable, so I’ve brought him here to you.”

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣