Zhou Fuxue was being annoyed to death by Ming Zhu.
Because he had momentarily lost his head and hugged Ming Zhu that morning, his overly-familiar Eldest Senior Brother had immediately taken that embrace as the little wolf cub’s sign of submission. Beaming with joy, Ming Zhu had grabbed Zhou Fuxue, intent on dragging him out to show off to Shen Dian.
With a cold face, Zhou Fuxue was hauled out of Wenxian Residence, rushing all the way toward Wujiu Hall in the north.
Ming Zhu continued to chatter incessantly along the way. "Today is Little Martial Uncle’s morning lesson. There will probably be a lot of people there. If we’re late, there won’t be any seats left. Oh, I forgot to mention—today’s morning lesson at Rizhao is held jointly for the West and North Mountains. You’ll be able to see many senior sisters as beautiful as flowers."
As he spoke, he gave Zhou Fuxue a suggestive wink.
Zhou Fuxue remained expressionless. "Senior Brother, I am only ten years old."
Ming Zhu sighed. "Aish, what’s wrong with ten? When I was ten, I was already going around lifting the senior sisters' skirts."
Zhou Fuxue: "..."
As expected, he was a useless dandy—gold and jade on the outside, but rotten to the core within.
Even when he was being beaten half to death back at the Zhou family, Zhou Fuxue had never once yielded. The first time in his life he had shown a moment of softness, he was subjected to such devastation. He felt deeply that he must strictly discipline himself from now on and swear never to surrender again, even unto death.
The Eldest Senior Brother had no idea that his unintentional actions had influenced Zhou Fuxue into becoming a hardened soul who would swallow his own broken teeth rather than complain. Still feeling quite pleased with himself, Ming Zhu slung an arm around Zhou Fuxue’s shoulders and strolled leisurely toward Wujiu Hall by the Rizhao Waterfall.
Wujiu Hall was a spacious wooden structure. It was called a wooden house, but in reality, there were no walls to the north or south to block the view. The entrances were wide open, with straw mats hanging halfway to provide a modicum of shade. Inside, it was filled with long tables and benches, arranged neatly to accommodate over a hundred people.
The sky had only just broken dawn, yet Wujiu Hall was already packed. Men and women sat on opposite sides of the hall, with a central aisle creating a clear divide between them.
A draft whistled through the hall, making the scriptures on the tables rustle loudly.
Ming Zhu led Zhou Fuxue through the front door with grand ostentation. The moment he appeared, the North Mountain disciples all looked as if their jaws had dropped, whispering in astonishment that their Eldest Senior Brother had actually shown up for morning lessons in person. Meanwhile, the female cultivators of the West Mountain all looked bashful, their gazes stealing glances at Ming Zhu as if they wanted to scrape the very fabric off his thin robes.
Ming Zhu walked in and said with a grin, "Good morning, everyone. It’s been a while. Did you miss your Senior Brother?"
Seeing him smile, the West Mountain female sisters immediately blushed, their voices like the humming of mosquitoes: "Yes..."
The North Mountain disciples, seeing this, were instantly filled with indignation, wishing they could kick their own Eldest Senior Brother out.
The West and North Mountains were separated by a long suspension bridge, and no one was allowed to cross the mountain gates without permission. Only during Little Martial Uncle’s morning lessons every seven days would everyone gather. These young, hot-blooded youths were at the age where their hearts were first blooming. Despite their dignified appearance of attending a lesson, their eyes were actually twitching from glancing at the female cultivators beside them; their motives were plain for all to see.
Yet, as soon as this Eldest Senior Brother—who had nothing going for him but a handsome face—arrived, he drew the attention of all the female cultivators. The North Mountain disciples felt like rising up as a group to attack him.
Ming Zhu squinted and smiled, completely ignoring the resentment of his fellow disciples. He pressed a hand on Zhou Fuxue’s shoulder in front of him. "This is your Thirteenth Junior Brother, Zhou..."
As he spoke, he rubbed his chin and looked down. "Right, what was your name again?"
Zhou Fuxue: "..."
Shen Dian silently collapsed onto his desk, shaking with laughter.
"Oh, right, I remember now. Zhou Fuxue." Ming Zhu racked his brain and finally recalled the name just before Zhou Fuxue could fly into a rage.
The North Mountain disciples suddenly went quiet, leaning in to whisper as they sized up the thin and frail Zhou Fuxue. Their gazes held wariness, disdain, and pity. A few huddled together, whispering quite noisily.
Zhou Fuxue abruptly clenched his fists.
Ming Zhu stretched lazily, his eyelids fluttering as he said, "What’s all the noise for? If you have something to say, say it directly. Aren't you tired of buzzing around like mosquitoes?"
The North Mountain disciples weren't afraid of this "straw bag" Eldest Senior Brother. Hearing this, someone actually stood up and asked, "Eldest Senior Brother, I heard that Thirteenth Junior Brother has no spiritual veins. Is that true? What can a cultivator without spiritual veins even practice?"
As soon as these words were spoken, the crowd erupted into boisterous laughter.
Zhou Fuxue’s nails were nearly digging into the flesh of his palms. That merciless mockery felt like it was violently dragging him down from the precarious clouds. The sensation of falling made it almost difficult for him to breathe.
The crowd was still laughing, and Ming Zhu was laughing along with them. However, those peach-blossom eyes were like an unsheathed blade, sweeping over them with a cold, tempered glint.
The disciple who had asked the question suddenly caught his breath, his laughter dying in his throat.
"You ask what someone without spiritual veins practices? Then let me ask you: what does someone *with* spiritual veins seek?"
Meeting Ming Zhu’s half-smiling gaze, the man hesitated before answering, "Naturally, one seeks longevity."
Ming Zhu replied, "If the Sect Leader heard that answer, he would surely strip off your Rizhao robes and throw you out."
Shen Dian, who had long ago seen through Ming Zhu’s useless facade, gave a yawn and called out, "Then please enlighten us, Eldest Senior Brother. If we undergo such arduous cultivation not to ascend and attain the Dao, then what are we seeking?"
The crowd also assumed an air of attentive listening, waiting for his instruction.
Ming Zhu maintained his serious expression and spoke with shameless bravado: "Naturally, it is so that one day we may possess overwhelming power and enjoy wealth and honor without a care in the world. Otherwise, why would anyone be bored enough to endure such grueling cultivation?"
Everyone: "..."
It wasn't often that their Eldest Senior Brother acted serious. Some had even laid out paper, intending to record his words as golden rules to be revered. They never expected to hear such sacrilegious nonsense. A few hands slipped, their brushes leaving dark ink streaks across their paper.
Shen Dian sighed. "That answer is what would get the Sect Leader to strip you and beat you out of here. Truly... tsk tsk, a disgrace to the sect."
With Ming Zhu’s meddling, the crowd actually forgot the previous topic regarding Zhou Fuxue.
He had finally attended a morning lesson only to cause such a scene. A female cultivator sitting in the front row frowned and said coldly, "If you've made enough of a fuss, sit down."
She was dressed in white as pure as snow. Though her features were exquisite, she wore no expression, appearing at a glance to be a meticulous and frost-cold person. Her voice was extremely chilly; as soon as she spoke, the entire Wujiu Hall seemed to drop several degrees in temperature.
Ming Zhu, who had been planning to tease his unlucky junior brother further, suddenly looked as if he’d been doused with cold water. He let out a sheepish "Ah," quickly withdrew his antics, and tucked his tail between his legs, leading Zhou Fuxue down to find a seat.
An outer disciple was whispering to Shen Dian: "As expected, only Senior Sister Fu Hua can suppress Eldest Senior Brother. Every time she speaks, he definitely turns into a little puppy with his tail between his legs."
As soon as the words left his mouth, the "little puppy" walked up to him, tossed a book onto his desk, and said haughtily, "Make a seat for your Thirteenth Senior Brother."
The disciple blinked. "Huh?"
Ming Zhu tapped the table, repeating himself with tireless arrogance: "Move."
Never had anyone seen someone demand a seat so imperiously. The disciple also quickly tucked his tail, let out an "Understood," and scurried away.
"You sit here. If there's anything you don't understand, ask your Tenth Senior Brother," Ming Zhu instructed Zhou Fuxue. "By the way, Old Ten, what did Little Martial Uncle talk about the last few times? Transcribe a copy and give it to me tonight."
Shen Dian said, "You're already here, yet you're still planning to leave? What are you thinking?"
Ming Zhu said righteously, "I'm a busy man with a myriad of affairs! I have to find Master again today to finalize the candidates for Hundred Sword Mountain. I'm annoyed to death. Why did Old Five choose this exact moment to enter closed-door cultivation? Usually, these things are his responsibility."
Shen Dian countered, "As the Head Disciple of Rizhao Mountain, you have the nerve to dump all the sect's affairs onto your junior brothers? These things are clearly your duty. Just because Fifth Senior Brother did them for you a few times, you've really pushed your luck, haven't you?"
Ming Zhu glared at him, his lack of reason matched only by his confidence. "I don't care."
He turned to make a graceful exit, but perhaps his earlier words had brought him bad karma. Before he could reach the door, he ran head-first into the Little Martial Uncle arriving for the lesson.
The Little Martial Uncle wore a blue robe that had been washed until it was pale. He looked extremely young, perhaps seventeen or eighteen. He walked over slowly, cradling several scriptures in his arms. Upon seeing Ming Zhu, he squinted slightly, observing him for a long while before saying slowly, "Ah-Zhu, where are you going?"
The Little Martial Uncle had the appearance of a youth, but his status at Rizhao Mountain was second only to Daoist Guining. No matter how bold Ming Zhu was, he didn't dare act out in front of him. He lied without blinking an eye: "Good morning, Little Martial Uncle—it's just that your morning lessons are so popular. I was only a little late, and there are already no seats left in Wujiu Hall. So, I was thinking of coming to ask for your guidance on another day."
He spoke with such righteous conviction, as if he wasn't the one who had just pounded on a table to force someone else to give up their seat.
The Little Martial Uncle said softly, "Oh? But isn't there an empty seat next to Fu Hua?"
Ming Zhu looked back. Senior Sister Fu Hua’s aura was likely too cold; out of all the female cultivators from the West Mountain, none were willing to sit with her.
"Uh..."
Little Martial Uncle: "What? You don't want to sit with Fu Hua?"
Fu Hua looked up coldly at Ming Zhu. Ming Zhu immediately said, "No, no, I'd be delighted."
Since things had reached this point, he couldn't weave any more lies. He dragged his feet to the seat beside Fu Hua and sat down.
Seeing their Eldest Senior Brother in such a pathetic state, the North Mountain disciples were all snickering.
The Little Martial Uncle walked forward with his scrolls and said in a small voice, "Good morning, everyone."
The Little Martial Uncle had a somewhat weak personality and was not skilled in martial arts; he couldn't even lift heavy objects. Usually, his voice was like the humming of a mosquito; if one didn't focus, it was impossible to hear him clearly.
The crowd responded, "Good morning, Little Martial Uncle."
The Little Martial Uncle had been teaching morning lessons for over a decade, yet he still couldn't help but feel uneasy when facing the disciples. He kept his head down, staring only at his books, buzzing: "Today, we shall discuss the formation of demons and spirits."
Ming Zhu had no patience to listen to the Little Martial Uncle’s mosquito-like voice. He peeked around surreptitiously, seemingly thinking of how to escape. However, a sudden chill crept up from beneath his feet. He looked down and saw that, at some point, Fu Hua had used ice to freeze his legs from the calves down firmly to the floor.
Ming Zhu: "..."
He exerted hidden strength, trying to pull his legs out, but the ice was frozen too solid. Even using every ounce of his strength, he couldn't move an inch.
The culprit, Fu Hua, ignored him completely. She watched the Little Martial Uncle without blinking, occasionally taking notes in her book.
Ming Zhu endured it for a long time before he couldn't help but whisper, "Fu Hua, hey, Fu Hua, I was wrong. I won't do it again. Hurry and melt this ice, my legs are going numb."
Only then did Fu Hua turn her head to glance at him. Ming Zhu quickly gave her a fawning smile.
Ming Zhu was the type to apologize sincerely but never change his ways, no matter who he was dealing with. Fu Hua had long since recognized his true nature; she ignored him and returned to listening to the lesson.
Seeing that an apology was useless, Ming Zhu simply turned around and whispered to the female cultivator behind him, "Which kind sister has a fire spiritual vein? Can you help Senior Brother with a favor?"
The female cultivator sitting behind him immediately replied with joy, "Me! I am..."
Before she could finish, Fu Hua suddenly turned her head coldly, her gaze sweeping over her. The girl immediately shut her mouth and lowered her head, not daring to speak to the Eldest Senior Brother again.
Ming Zhu: "Hey, wait, don't do that."
He began to earnestly try and persuade the junior sister, but the prestige of Eldest Senior Sister Fu Hua remained potent. No matter what the Eldest Senior Brother said, that junior sister simply did not dare to answer.
Ming Zhu turned back with a sigh. Fu Hua finally looked at him properly. Just as she was about to speak, the Little Martial Uncle’s voice came from the side: "Ah-Zhu, come and repeat what I just said."
Ming Zhu had no choice but to stand up with difficulty. Without thinking, he replied: "...To value life and death, to find contentment in one's food, beauty in one's clothing, peace in one's dwelling, and joy in one's customs—this is not the Dao."
Even though his mind had been entirely focused on Fu Hua, he was actually able to use his mind for two things at once and hear what the Little Martial Uncle was saying.
The Little Martial Uncle smiled gently and said, "Since you can recite this passage so fluently, why do you still feel that cultivation is merely for indulging in pleasure?"
He was referring to Ming Zhu’s fallacious argument before the lesson began.
Ming Zhu curled his lip. "Little Martial Uncle, weren't you just talking about the formation of demons and spirits? How did we shift back to the scriptures?"
***
**Glossary**
