Over the next few days, Ming Zhu discovered that he hadn't gained a little junior brother so much as a nagging mother who controlled his every move.
He didn't know what had gotten into Zhou Fuxue, but ever since the boy had helped tidy his courtyard, it was as if he were possessed. He came by every day, and whenever he saw Ming Zhu tossing things about, he would scold him with a frozen expression. It made Ming Zhu feel constrained and uncomfortable even in his own home.
Ming Zhu could have endured that, but what he truly couldn't stand was that every morning at the hour of the Dragon, Zhou Fuxue would arrive without fail to pound on his door and drag him to morning lessons. Every time Ming Zhu tried to stay in bed, throwing a tantrum and rolling around to avoid going, the boy would simply stand by the bed in silence. His cold, indifferent eyes would stare at Ming Zhu until he was forced awake, eventually dragging himself to Wuxiu Hall to endure the torment of the lectures.
After a few days, Ming Zhu was on the verge of a breakdown. Thinking himself clever, he fled to Shen Dian’s place to sleep, hoping for a single day of peace. To his surprise, the next morning that bastard Shen and Zhou Fuxue showed up at his room together. They chattered away in harmony, one on his left and one on his right, as they hauled him off to class.
This past fortnight had been the darkest, most miserable period of Ming Zhu’s life since arriving at Rizhao Mountain. Whenever he thought of it, his face turned sallow with misery, and he felt like ending it all right then and there.
Lu Qingkong didn't even look up as he tinkered with a pile of scattered iron scraps on his table. "And so?" he asked perfunctorily.
Ming Zhu slumped over the table, his face etched with exhaustion. Even the red tear mark beneath his eye seemed to have lost its luster. "And so, Old Ninth, you’re the only one who can save your Senior Brother. Let me crash here for the night."
The place where Lu Qingkong lived was called Sifang Garden. Its layout was completely different from Wenxian Buzhiya; rather than a residence, it looked more like a warehouse.
Sifang Garden was filled with mechanical traps and formations. Even a single blade of grass might hide a tiny mechanism. The interior was gloomy, and a closer look revealed the ceiling was hung with all manner of iron-cast mechanical parts, packed so densely it was terrifying. The entire room was permeated with a cold, metallic aura.
Dressed in black, Lu Qingkong sat cross-legged on the floor, fiddling with two iron plates. His fingers were long and nimble, guiding a golden thread through the hollowed-out formations on the plates with lightning speed. He spoke to Ming Zhu while remaining focused on his work. "No."
Ming Zhu continued to sprawl on the floor, pleading, "I’ll only stay for a few days. I won't touch your things."
Lu Qingkong straightened his back slightly and reached up, expertly plucking a dark iron plate from the ceiling. He continued threading his needle with the golden wire, saying coldly, "I said no. Get out."
Lu Qingkong likely spent his days dealing with these cold iron pieces, making him a gloomy and frigid person. He was always obsessed with researching strange formations and mechanisms; once he became absorbed, he would sometimes forget to eat or sleep. Year-round, he looked like someone who was perpetually starved and freezing, his face clouded with a dark energy. Anyone who didn't know better would think the people of Rizhao were abusing him for no reason.
However, Ming Zhu had always been thick-skinned. He didn't feel awkward at being rejected. Instead, he boredly flicked one of the iron plates hanging overhead, listening to the pleasant, wind-chime-like clinking of metal. As if mentioning it in passing, he said casually, "Then, do you still want to go to Hundred Sword Mountain in two days?"
As expected, the moment Lu Qingkong heard "Hundred Sword Mountain," the golden thread dancing in his hands jerked to a halt. He raised his dark eyes and gave Ming Zhu a cold look. After a moment, he pursed his lips and said awkwardly, "Hasn't Master already decided that I'm going?"
The candidates had been finalized a few days ago during the Young Martial Uncle’s morning lesson. From Rizhao’s North Mountain, the group would be led by Eldest Senior Brother Ming Zhu, along with Zhou Fuxue and Lu Qingkong. From the West Mountain female disciples, the group would be led by Ming Fuhua and You Nü. Five people in total.
Ming Zhu winked his right eye at Lu Qingkong. "Fuhua and I are the ones leading you there. Whether we swap someone out is just a matter of a single word from us. Don't you agree, Junior Brother?"
Lu Qingkong nearly braced himself against the table to stand up. He glared gloomily at Ming Zhu. Just when Ming Zhu thought he would fly into a rage, Lu Qingkong unexpectedly calmed down. He sat back down and resumed tinkering with the complex mechanism, saying coldly, "Fine. Consider this retribution for the last time I threatened you."
Ming Zhu was delighted. He hadn't expected his Ninth Junior Brother to be such an open-minded person. He laughed and said, "I was only joking. How could I arbitrarily change the people the Young Martial Uncle selected? Junior Brother, for the sake of the hard work I'll be doing leading you to Hundred Sword Mountain, just help me this once."
Lu Qingkong frowned with some impatience. He strung three iron plates together with the golden thread before answering coldly, "Fine. But I don't have a spare room. You sleep on the floor."
Ming Zhu stood up and cheered, but he rose too quickly and slammed his head directly into the mechanical scraps hanging from the ceiling. Joy turned to sorrow instantly as he clutched his head and crouched down in pain.
When it came time to rest that night, Ming Zhu naturally refused to sleep honestly on the floor. He waited until Lu Qingkong was fast asleep, then stealthily crawled onto the wide bed, contentedly hugging the quilt as he drifted off.
Meanwhile, back at Wenxian Buzhiya, Zhou Fuxue stood at his doorway, staring at the dark window across from him. His brow furrowed deeply. Only after asking a servant boy did he learn that his Eldest Senior Brother had run off to sleep at Sifang Garden. He let out a cold sneer and slammed his door shut to go to sleep without looking back.
Early the next morning, Ming Zhu—who had spent the night hugging Lu Qingkong like a pillow—was unceremoniously kicked off the bed by said pillow. He couldn't get up for a long time.
Lu Qingkong looked down at him from above and said coldly, "Didn't I tell you to sleep on the floor?"
Ming Zhu sprawled on the ground, unwilling to rise, and grumbled, "The floor is so hard. I couldn't sleep."
Lu Qingkong huffed, stood up, and grabbed the black robe resting nearby to drape over his shoulders. "If you're afraid of the hard floor, go back and sleep in your own bed."
With that, he turned and left.
Ming Zhu lay there for a while before crawling back onto Lu Qingkong’s bed, drifting back into a daze.
He hid at Lu Qingkong’s place for two days. Although he ended up sleeping on the floor the whole time, at least no one was nagging him all day or dragging him to morning lessons. He was happy and at ease.
On the third day, the five disciples heading to Hundred Sword Mountain rose early and waited at the Disciples' Steps for Perfected Guining.
Ming Zhu had always been the type to sit whenever he could rather than stand. While everyone else stood respectfully, dressed neatly in their Rizhao robes for fear of shaming the sect during this journey, he was different. Although he had rarely donned his Rizhao robes today, he had left the two cloth buttons at his collar undone, revealing his collarbones and half his chest. His belt was tied loosely in a haphazard knot, looking truly unkempt.
He sat on the Disciples' Steps, yawning out of boredom. Seeing Zhou Fuxue nearby, some impulse struck him again. He reached out and tugged on his junior brother’s sleeve, whispering, "Thirteen, little Thirteen, are you still angry?"
Zhou Fuxue gave him a cold look and swept his sleeve away, saying flatly, "Fuxue wouldn't dare."
Ming Zhu’s eyes shimmered with a watery light as he gave him a brilliant smile, speaking softly as if coaxing a child, "Alright, alright, don't be angry. I only missed two days of morning lessons. Is there any need to be so serious?"
Zhou Fuxue, who had just said he "wouldn't dare," immediately turned back to glare at him, correcting him: "It was three days."
Ming Zhu: "Uh... fine, three days it is. Don't be angry anymore, Brother Thirteen?"
Zhou Fuxue was so angry he felt like smoke was coming out of his ears. Ming Zhu’s apologies seemed to roll off his tongue with ease; he was shameless enough to call a ten-year-old "Brother," showing just how thick his skin had become.
As the two of them were bickering, Perfected Guining finally arrived, strolling over at a leisurely pace. Upon seeing him, the group hurried to bow in greeting. "Greetings, Sect Leader."
Ming Zhu’s backside seemed made of lead; even when Perfected Guining arrived, he remained seated as steady as a mountain, with no intention of standing to welcome him. He lazily followed the others with a mumbled "Greetings, Sect Leader."
Perfected Guining shot him a cold glance, likely thinking this boy was like rotten wood that couldn't be carved and was utterly unreliable for this trip. He turned instead to the frost-faced Ming Fuhua and said calmly, "On this journey to Hundred Sword Mountain, remember not to be conceited or arrogant. Once you find suitable weapons, return immediately. Do not linger. I believe you can manage this."
Ming Fuhua bowed slightly. "Yes."
"There is not much danger within Hundred Sword Mountain itself, but you must remain vigilant at all times and not grow overconfident. Furthermore, do not even dream of exploring the Sword Tomb. The Sword Tomb is a place of hidden perils, where every step is a risk. Entering it is a certain death sentence with only a sliver of hope for survival. I hope you will all be extremely cautious."
The group responded, "Yes."
After finishing his instructions, Perfected Guining finally turned to the slouching Ming Zhu. "You."
Only then did Ming Zhu deign to stand up from the ground. "This disciple is here."
Perfected Guining’s eyes were like sword light. He seemed to want to say something, but his gaze flickered toward Zhou Fuxue and Lu Qingkong, and he paused. After a moment, he waved his hand and said, "You know what I wish to say. Conduct yourself well."
Hearing this, Ming Zhu sneered inwardly. *What do you want to say? You're worried I'll take this chance to flee Rizhao Mountain, aren't you?*
However, in front of his other junior brothers and sisters, it wasn't convenient to be too insolent. He simply nodded slightly and said nothing more, his expression uncharacteristically cold.
Ever since the Young Martial Uncle had announced the three candidates from the North Mountain, Ming Zhu—who had been planning to use this chance to escape Rizhao—felt his heart go half-cold. He had originally thought that even if Yi Fuju didn't go, Yan Xueyu would count as half a combat force to protect Zhou Fuxue and Lu Qingkong. Then, he could find an opportunity to desert the group. Once he was out in the wide world, no matter how many capable people Rizhao Mountain had, they would never find him.
But now, Ming Zhu’s loud and clear calculations had been cleaved in two, and his heart was shattered into pieces along with them.
Over the past few days, this thought kept rising: *Should I just run? The others shouldn't encounter much danger in Hundred Sword Mountain, and I won't be of much help anyway. I might even just get in the way.*
But soon after, he would wail and grab his hair, slamming his head against the table. *But Lu Qingkong has a waste spiritual root, and Zhou Fuxue has no spiritual root at all. If they run into danger, they won't even have the ability to protect themselves. What if something happens to them?*
*If I don't take this chance to escape, I won't have another opportunity to leave in the future.*
*But if I abandon these two junior brothers this time and they run into danger, won't I regret it for the rest of my life?*
*Flee!*
*But what if they're in danger...*
His mind was occupied by these two extreme thoughts, back and forth, until he was so frustrated he lost handfuls of hair. Seeing that he was about to go bald, he finally came to a desperate decision.
"Consider it my debt to those two bastards," Ming Zhu muttered, staring blankly into the void. "If those two jerks can't find suitable weapons, I'll just leave them at Hundred Sword Mountain and won't bring them back."
***
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