Chapter 56: So Will the Master's Love Disappear?

Early the next morning, Wen Jinge awoke. Although she trusted her own blood more than herself, she was still startled.

“Liang Si, did—did your junior brother Yuan die?” Wen Jinge regarded the little dumpling before her with a peculiar expression.

Plump, pale, and soft, chubby as a carved jade doll, his jet-black eyes spun about with curiosity. As Wen Jinge sized him up, he, in turn, scrutinized her. After a long pause, a smile broke out on his cherubic, baby-fat cheeks, cheerful and bright as a lucky doll, brimming with good fortune.

“This is it!” Liang Si pointed at the little child.

The boy looked no more than ten years old at best, yet Yuan Qingling had been just three years shy of seventy. Because he’d consumed too many elixirs in his youth, after stopping, he bore little advantage over a corpse in a coffin—except that he was still breathing.

“This is really him?”

“Ahem, ahem.” Feeling awkward, Wen Jinge crouched down, gazing up at the child and the rising sun above. It had just climbed into the sky, marking the east.

“Little one, which peak’s disciple secretly had you? Don’t be afraid, big sister will stand up for you.”

“Master~ I—I’m Qingling!” The child played with his fingers, his cheeks round and soft, his words tender and sweet. He scratched his head bashfully. “Yesterday, I thought you didn’t want me anymore, Master. I was so frightened.”

Wen Jinge took a deep, steadying breath, sipped her tea, and only after a long moment called Liang Si over, “Si!”

“I’m here, Master.”

“Trading in people is illegal, you know!”

Liang Si let her pat his shoulder and replied gently, “I would never do such a thing, Master.”

“Si!” Wen Jinge sighed. “Tell me the truth—were you afraid that I’d grieve too much and sleep another six months? So you bought me a child to cheer me up? Don’t worry, I haven’t had time to grow fond of your junior brother Yuan yet. If he’s gone, he’s gone.”

“He really is our junior brother. The only child in the illusion was him—there was no one else.” Liang Si’s head was throbbing.

He had heard of, and even witnessed, marrow cleansing before. But that was always with a medicinal cultivator using cleansing pills—granting new life to those with blocked meridians.

Why was it, then, that after his junior brother underwent the same process, instead of merely rejuvenating his body, he had regressed from a man near seventy to a boy of less than ten?

Others soaked in medicinal baths for their cleansing. His junior brother—yes, his junior brother—had been struck by lightning into this state.

And yet, anyone else struck by lightning would surely die!

Even for mystics like them, breaking through to the first rank and ascending to immortality required surviving a lightning tribulation. Those who failed would perish.

But that’s just it—

His junior brother was struck by lightning and didn’t just survive; he became a child again. Who would believe such a thing? If word got out, wouldn’t the entire Xuanyun Sect be in an uproar? Wouldn’t every cultivator under rank six scramble to paste lightning-attracting talismans on themselves? Wouldn’t that throw the world into chaos?

“Master, do you really dislike me?” Yuan Qingling’s eyes filled with tears, his face full of grievance. Was it just because he had grown younger that everyone looked at him so strangely? “Master, wuwuwu…”

“Stop trying to be cute!” Wen Jinge abruptly turned, scooping him up in her arms. “Liang Si, does he still have his identity token?”

“Yes, I’ll go find it.”

In Xuanyun Sect, every disciple—whether a personal disciple of the Seven Peaks, an ordinary inner-court member, or even a sweeper from the outer mountains—received a jade token upon entry, a so-called Longevity Token, resembling a memorial tablet.

Only the tokens of the highest elders from the Seven Peaks and inner sanctum might be hung within the Burning Heaven Gate; the rest were usually kept by their respective masters.

But Wanzhang Peak was different—the tokens were managed by Liang Si.

“Bring the token, and let’s—”

“Hey, are you having a child?”

“Greetings, Uncle Fan,” Yuan Qingling, ever well-mannered even as an old man, had become even more endearing as a child. Wen Jinge tossed him over, and he instinctively clung to Fan Zifan, “Uncle, she… she doesn’t recognize me anymore.”

“Your belly…” Fan Zifan eyed Wen Jinge’s abdomen. Flat—not at all like someone who’d just given birth.

But that was nonsense! Who gives birth in just one day?

“Where did this child come from? You didn’t just pick him up off the mountain, did you?”

“Junior Brother Yuan.” Liang Si handed the Longevity Token to Fan Zifan, “Uncle, see if it’s really him.”

“Impossible?” Fan Zifan almost laughed in disbelief, but seeing their grave faces, he quickly tossed some talisman paper to Wen Jinge. “Here, waste talismans from Senior Sister Bai, just for you!”

He was grasping at straws, unnerved by the bizarreness—after all, the Longevity Token was still glowing, which meant Yuan Qingling was alive.

“I’ll ask one more time! Are you really not playing a prank on me?”

“No.” Wen Jinge closed the door, waiting for the others to arrive before saying, “Quick, check if he can be restored. In this state, he’s making me sick.”

Yuan Qingling: So, does Master’s love disappear now?

“It is a bit nauseating.” Shan Hongxing, recalling how she’d been swept up in a hug, nodded in agreement. “Children—real children are cuter.”

Yuan Qingling: This isn’t what I signed up for!

“His voice is so cloying, it’s giving me goosebumps,” Liang Si shivered.

Yuan Qingling: Where has my dearest senior brother gone?

“Master!” Wang Xi stood at the doorway, eyes wide as she looked between the faces. “Uncle Fan, is this your child? He looks just like you!”

Yuan Qingling: …

Fan Zifan: …

Before anyone could respond, Wen Jinge had already covered her face with her hand, and Liang Si followed suit, hiding behind his sleeve. Life, truly, was getting out of hand.

“Why is no one happy?” She pinched Yuan Qingling’s cheek. “So soft and chubby, truly adorable.”

“Um…” Yuan Qingling’s cheeks were pulled taut, and he spoke with great embarrassment, “Junior sister, I am your fourth senior brother.”

“Impossible! Fourth senior brother was struck by lightning just yesterday. Oh right, Senior Brother Liang, we still need to dig up Yuan senior brother, don’t we?”

Fan Zifan looked at Wen Jinge in confusion—her face was hidden behind her hands. Turned to Liang Si—he had draped his robe over his own face.

“You… buried him?” Fan Zifan pointed at the childlike Yuan Qingling, incredulous. “So, you plant a seventy-year-old Yuan Qingling and harvest a ten-year-old Yuan Qingling? Struck by lightning, too?”

They said only monsters or those abhorred by heaven face tribulations at birth. Wanzhang Peak teemed with birdsong and flowers, but inside… what had they done?

Wen Jinge, I see you’ve played another trick on me.

Fan Zifan collapsed into a chair, lips twitching, eyes dull. “So, can you explain if you really wanted demonfolk just for your research?”

“No! Master didn’t use demons this time—she used demon cores.” Liang Si pulled the cloth from his face and spread his hands. “Over a thousand seventh-grade demon cores—all gone.”

“Go on.” Fan Zifan was sure he had no head for numbers.

“As for magic, we borrowed the First Master’s demonic aura to draw the lightning. The lightning-attracting talisman was written with Master’s own blood.”

“Impressive!” Fan Zifan gave a thumbs-up.

“And… and we used up all the spirit stones we won—over ten thousand.” Wang Xi added.

“Rich!” Fan Zifan clapped with a bitter heart. All those spirit stones had once passed through his hands.