Is Everyone Else's Eldest Disciple Like This? | Chapter 33 | A Cruel Reunion | Novela.app

Ming Zhu’s entire body trembled violently as he squeezed two words through the gaps of his teeth: "Ming... Zhao..." Ming Zhao’s face bore a sixty-percent resemblance to Ming Zhu’s. However, unlike Ming Zhu’s androgynous, almost demonic beauty, his features were resolute. His grey eyes were hollow and devoid of spirit, possessing a cold detachment as if he had seen through the vanity of the mortal world, carrying the weariness of one who had endured countless ages. Ming Zhao lazily tapped his pipe against the edge of the boat again and muttered softly, "Silly son, call me Father." In the next instant, Ming Zhu’s wide sleeves were suddenly filled with wind. The Kua Yu Sword let out a hum as it lunged out, the resulting wind blades slicing Ming Zhu’s fair arms until they were bloodied. "My Master is the person who treats me best in this world..." Ming Zhu said coldly. "He is nothing like you!" Hearing this, Ming Zhao seemed to scoff. He tilted his head slightly, and his dark pupils slowly began to split, bleeding out until his entire eyes were stained a bizarre, sinister crimson—like the legendary beasts that feasted on raw flesh. "Son, you are wrong. Gui Ning and I have always been the same kind of person," Ming Zhao said indifferently. "Otherwise, why is it that in the twelve years you’ve been at Rizhao Mountain, he has never guided your cultivation? Is there truly anyone in this world that he, Gui Ning, cannot teach?" Ming Zhu shouted, "Shut up!" "During all those years at Rizhao, you played around and acted recklessly, yet he never questioned or interfered. Even if you had torn Rizhao apart, he would have turned a blind eye. He only wanted to raise you into a useless waste—gilded on the outside but rotten within." Ming Zhao smiled at him, his expression as gentle as a deity’s, yet his demonic eyes were like those of a vengeful ghost. "For a man of his reputation who fishes for hollow praise, what difference is there between him and a cold-blooded demonic cultivator like your father?" Ming Zhu’s pupils shrank. He stared fixedly at Ming Zhao, and his body, which had been completely suppressed by the other's pressure, actually began to move inch by inch through near-convulsive effort. "I won't let you insult him!" He ground out each word, his teeth clenched like a life-claiming wraith. The aura he stirred up caused ripples to spread across the calm surface of the river. "An evil person like you... like you! You have no right to be mentioned in the same breath as him!" Ming Zhao lazily lowered his gaze and tapped a finger on the boat’s edge. Ming Zhu’s momentum was instantly suppressed again, and with a *thud*, he stumbled back into his seat. Ming Zhao said calmly, "In consideration of the fact that I acted as your boatman and spent the whole afternoon rowing for you, call me Father." Ming Zhu struggled desperately, trying to break free from his control. He let out a cold laugh. "Are you even worthy?" Ming Zhao replied, "I am. Of course I am." Ming Zhu: "..." Ming Zhu finally realized where his own talent for being thick-skinned had come from. Ming Zhao’s gaze remained lowered, fixed on the pipe in his hand. It seemed the ash had clogged the small hole of the mouthpiece; he kept frowning and banging it against the boat’s edge, looking extremely impatient. "Hey, son." Ming Zhao finally gave up. He looked up at the fierce-looking Ming Zhu and said with perfect composure, "When you were little, how exactly did you help me get the ash out of this thing? Teach me." Ming Zhu: "..." A look of ferocity appeared on Ming Zhu’s face. The Kua Yu Sword floating in the air instantly reverted to its true form. Guided by a surge of spiritual energy, it whistled through the air, piercing toward the center of Ming Zhao’s back with ruthless speed—leaving no room for mercy. Ming Zhao tapped that god-forsaken mouthpiece twice more, his brow furrowed in deep frustration, completely ignoring the divine weapon behind him. In the next moment, the malice-filled Kua Yu Sword abruptly stopped an inch away from Ming Zhao’s back, as if forcibly blocked by something. "Son," Ming Zhao said, "don't try to kill your father the moment we meet. I’ve asked many people over the years, and other families' fathers and sons really aren't like this. Put the sword away; let’s talk properly." Ming Zhu’s expression grew even colder, but he used his barely movable hand to make a slight hooking motion. The Kua Yu Sword flew back, floating behind him and slowly emitting a semi-circular red glow that enveloped his entire body. In a reciprocal gesture, Ming Zhao withdrew his terrifying pressure. Ming Zhu said coldly, "When you wordlessly sent my man flying, why didn't you think about talking properly?" Ming Zhao continued to tap the mouthpiece against the boat, saying nonchalantly, "Oh, you mean that little guard from the Shen family? I didn't use a killing blow; he’ll be fine. Speaking of which, you two are truly dull. If I hadn't rowed until my arms were a bit sore and let a bit of demonic energy leak out, you probably wouldn't have realized who you were using as a boatman until you stepped off." Ming Zhu said, "Heh, just an old bastard of a demonic cultivator." Ming Zhao let out a surprised "Eh?" and said, "Don't talk about me like that. Father will be very sad." "Old bastard!" Ming Zhao glanced at Ming Zhu with a touch of exasperation, then yielded with surprisingly good temper. "Then, don't add the 'old.' It makes it sound like I have a massive beard." Ming Zhu finally lost his patience with the man's rambling and said directly, "What exactly do you want to say? I have no interest in listening to your nonsense. If you want to fight, then fight. If not, then wait there for your death; I will fulfill that wish immediately." Ming Zhao uttered another "Eh?" and said, "Son, you are too harsh. You won't even give someone a chance to say their last words." Ming Zhu: "..." Ming Zhu became even more determined in his resolve to kill his father. He felt that if he didn't strike this old bastard dead, he would have lived all these years in vain. Ming Zhao finally knocked the ash out of the mouthpiece. He packed some fresh tobacco and took two puffs, saying seemingly at random, "By the way, son, after all these years, are you still that afraid of heights?" Ming Zhu looked at him warily, his hand trembling slightly as he reached out to grasp the Kua Yu Sword. In the next instant, Ming Zhao stood up lightly on the swaying boat. His figure appeared beside Ming Zhu like a ghost. He pressed five fingers against Ming Zhu’s back, pinning the lunging Kua Yu Sword directly against the boat’s edge. The Kua Yu Sword let out a violent hum, but it was rendered immobile by Ming Zhao’s immense demonic pressure. Ming Zhu’s pupils constricted. Instinctively, he tried to strike out with a palm at the man barely three inches away. However, before he could move, Ming Zhao lightly grabbed him by the collar. With his other hand, he struck down at the small boat beneath their feet. In an instant, a sea-like surge of demonic energy smashed the frail boat into splinters. Simultaneously, Ming Zhao lifted Ming Zhu and soared into the sky, whistling up dozens of chang into the air. Ming Zhao’s unremarkable grey clothes snapped loudly in the wind. He tucked the pipe back into his waist and stopped in mid-air, holding Ming Zhu by the collar. Below them, Shuoyu City had already shrunk many times over. "Ming Zhu, open your eyes. Look down." Ming Zhu’s limbs had no ground to touch. The biting cold wind blew his outer robe off his shoulders, letting it flutter in the gale. He kept his eyes tightly shut, his entire body trembling violently. Seeing him covered in cold sweat yet still gripping his wrist tightly, unwilling to open his eyes, Ming Zhao’s demonic pupils flickered. The smile on his face vanished. He said coldly, "I will say it one more time. Open your eyes, or I will throw you down from here." Ming Zhu’s whole body shuddered. His long lashes trembled slightly before he slowly opened his eyes. "Good boy. Look down." Ming Zhu’s eyes were filled with tears. The realization that this old bastard could drop him from this height at any moment left his mind in chaos; even the sounds around him felt muffled, as if heard through a barrier. He looked down in a daze, following Ming Zhao’s command. When his gaze touched Shuoyu City, which had shrunk until it looked like a painting beneath his feet, he was stunned. The height of dozens of chang above the ground began to overlap with the bottomless abyss from his nightmares. Even the surrounding glow of the setting sun seemed to be vanishing rapidly. The bloody, gaping maw that would suddenly appear from the dark abyss in his dreams felt as if it would leap up in the next moment and swallow him whole. Ming Zhu was completely paralyzed with fear. He stared motionlessly at the brightly lit Shuoyu City below. His pale lips trembled, but no sound came out. Seeing his fragile and broken state, Ming Zhao showed not a shred of sympathy or pity. He spoke into Ming Zhu’s ear with a tone that could only be described as cruel: "Look closely at what is beneath your feet. What do you see?" Ming Zhu’s lips moved slightly. His entire body felt as limp as water, and the ten fingers gripping Ming Zhao’s wrist began to lose their strength. "I..." Ming Zhao’s crimson demonic pupils glowed faintly. His lazily tied long hair whipped wildly in the gale. He said coldly, "Is the scene beneath your feet right now the same as the one where you died in your nightmares all these years?" Ming Zhu looked up stiffly, meeting Ming Zhao’s eyes with a vacant expression. Ming Zhao looked down at him, a cold sneer curling his lips. He said, emphasizing every word, "The person who threw you off the cliff in your dreams—was it me?" Ming Zhu froze for a moment, then suddenly let out a heart-wrenching scream. He clawed desperately at Ming Zhao’s wrist, shrieking, "I’m going to kill you!" Ming Zhao remained unmoved, saying coldly, "Kill me? With just you? A rusted, useless sword? Or are you going to use the spiritual veins I bestowed upon you to kill me?" Ming Zhu’s eyes widened suddenly, and tears slowly slid from them. Ming Zhao loosened his grip on the collar and grabbed Ming Zhu’s left wrist. His eyes coldly swept over the red lotus mark on the back of the hand. "Seventeen years ago, I gave you new spiritual veins, along with the Mingxin Jue. If you had put even a little effort into making the Honglian Sword acknowledge you as its master, you wouldn't be like a dog now, left to my mercy." Ming Zhao grabbed Ming Zhu’s hair, forcing him to look up. "Five years ago, I sent the 'Scabbard' to Rizhao Mountain. Why haven't you used it?" "Your... things..." Ming Zhu’s left hand was held tight as he hung in mid-air. He found a sudden surge of courage and glared fiercely at Ming Zhao, his voice hoarse. "I wouldn't use them even if I died..." Ming Zhao paused, then his eyes darkened slightly. He said coldly, "Then go ahead and die." With that, he released his grip, heartlessly flinging Ming Zhu’s thin body downward. Ming Zhu’s face was filled with terror and hatred. He stared fixedly at the receding figure of Ming Zhao. Hearing the cold wind whistling past his ears, his tears fell uncontrollably. Then, a heart-wrenching cry erupted in the air. "Ming Zhao... if I don't die... if I don't die! One day, I will make sure you come to a bitter end!" Ming Zhao looked down from his height at the red figure falling rapidly, his eyes cold. "Silly son." ***