“Xiaofan, didn’t you say you were looking for Xiaohui and that big yellow dog? Why have you led me to the kitchen?” Shushu Zeng followed behind Xiaofan Zhang, walking into the kitchen and muttering incessantly.
Xiaofan Zhang scrutinized the spacious kitchen. It was countless times larger than the one on Dazhufeng, and far brighter. As he looked around, he remarked, “Although I haven’t seen them since early morning, I bet they’re here!”
Shushu Zeng shrugged, saying, “Impossible. Do you know what a three-eyed spirit monkey is? It’s a natural wonder, more perceptive than any human. The way you’re talking, it’s as if you think of it as a thief—especially a gluttonous one… Ah!”
In Shushu Zeng’s stunned expression, Xiaofan pulled Xiaohui out from behind a jar in the corner. Xiaohui, dangling in mid-air, squealed incessantly, and then Huang, the big yellow dog, rushed out from behind the jar, barking loudly at the two.
Xiaofan glanced at Shushu, who wore a half-amused, half-exasperated look.
Holding Xiaohui in his arms, Xiaofan scolded, “Stupid dog, stop barking! Do you want everyone to come after us?”
Seeming to understand, Huang gave a few whimpers and fell silent, eyeing Xiaohui in Xiaofan’s arms. Xiaofan glanced around, relieved to see that nothing seemed to be taken. He quickly made his way out, holding Xiaohui.
After a few steps, he noticed Huang wasn’t following. Turning back, he saw the dog had run to the jar, fiddled with it, and then emerged with a large meaty bone, running over to join them.
Xiaofan glared at Xiaohui, who was grinning widely. Shushu Zeng shook his head in amusement.
The two of them, along with the monkey and dog, sneaked out of the kitchen, fearing discovery and the ensuing disgrace. They finally breathed a sigh of relief when they were far enough away.
Xiaofan, catching his breath, said, “By the way, I haven’t congratulated you yet! You won another match.”
Shushu Zeng, however, seemed indifferent, his eyes still on Xiaohui. “What’s there to congratulate? I’m bound to lose to someone eventually… Why is Xiaohui so dirty? How long has it been since you bathed him?”
Xiaofan was taken aback. “I’ve never bathed him.”
Shushu nearly fainted, slapping his forehead. “How could you treat him like this!”
Xiaofan, unconvinced, thought about how the monkey climbs all over the place, making it hard to keep clean. But seeing Shushu’s pained expression, he knew it was a lost cause.
He chuckled nervously, changing the subject. “Did you know? In tomorrow’s third round, Lusu Xueqi will be facing my senior sister, Ling’er Tian!”
Shushu Zeng was surprised. “Your senior sister? The one with the Amber Crimson Silk?”
“Yes,” Xiaofan replied, petting Xiaohui, who was now on his shoulder. “Lusu Xueqi has been on a roll lately, and I’m worried about my senior sister.”
Shushu nodded. “True, but aside from everything else, just the Heavenly Abyss sword she wields is formidable.”
Xiaofan grew concerned. “Shushu, do you think my senior sister is in danger? Lusu Xueqi destroyed her opponent’s sword in the first round, and I heard the Longmen disciple was badly injured in the second!”
Shushu glared at him. “You worry too much. Your senior sister’s cultivation is much higher than yours. Worry about yourself. The next opponents will only get tougher. You haven’t even reached the third level of the Jade Purity Realm of the Great Clarity Way. You’ll be sliced to pieces… Give Xiaohui to me.”
Xiaofan hesitated, handing Xiaohui over. Shushu embraced the monkey, who protested with a squeal.
Xiaofan sighed. “You’re right. Senior Sister is highly accomplished and beautiful, with so many admirers. Who am I to worry about her?”
Shushu, holding Xiaohui tightly, barely looked up. “You know what, just focus on surviving tomorrow. My fellow disciple Peng Chang is not like Chuyuhong. Especially his sword, the Wu Hook, forged from a thousand-year-old fire copper, is very powerful!”
Xiaofan grimaced. “All of you have such powerful treasures. What can I do?”
Shushu, still focused on Xiaohui, walked forward. “Xiaohui, come with me. I’ll give you two bunches of bananas. Hmm, Xiaofan, what did you say?”
Walking side by side, Xiaofan sighed, “I envy you being able to use treasures. What does it feel like?”
Shushu shrugged. “It’s just natural. With time, the sword and treasure will resonate with you, and you can control it with your mind and spirit, moving heaven and earth, splitting mountains and seas.”
Xiaofan was puzzled. “Resonance, is it a cool feeling?”
Shushu, eyes still on Xiaohui, answered absentmindedly, “Not always. It depends on the material of the treasure.”
Xiaofan pondered, then shook his head, abandoning his wild thoughts. “Shushu, imagine how spectacular it must have been to forge something like the Heavenly Abyss. Do you know how it was created?”
Shushu gave Xiaofan an odd look. “How would I know? I’m seeing this legendary treasure for the first time.” He continued to stroke Xiaohui, who was now fuming. “But speaking of resonance, I read in ancient texts that true treasures, connected to the hearts of cultivators, are not these so-called divine or rare items.”
Xiaofan was intrigued. “What are they, then?”
Shushu explained, “They are treasures forged from the owner’s own blood. These treasures, imbued with demonic energy, have a deep connection with their owners. Though such methods are considered unorthodox, producing sinister objects, these treasures can only be wielded by those with the owner’s bloodline. Unlike the treasures we cultivate, which can be subdued by those of high cultivation… Oh!”
Shushu stopped, realizing Xiaofan was no longer beside him. Looking back, he saw Xiaofan standing frozen, staring at him with a strange expression.
“What’s wrong, Xiaofan?” Shushu asked, puzzled.
Xiaofan, startled, forced a smile. “Nothing, nothing.”
Shushu eyed him, thinking he was worried about tomorrow. He patted Xiaofan’s shoulder, smiling. “Don’t worry. I’ve talked to Senior Brother Peng. Tomorrow, he won’t hurt you, and you’ll lose gracefully. You can still face Master and Mistress.”
Xiaofan, seemingly distracted, nodded. “Oh, thank you.”
They continued walking, Shushu preoccupied with Xiaohui, while Xiaofan remained lost in thought.
Suddenly, Xiaohui, unable to bear Shushu’s gaze, lashed out, leaving scratches on Shushu’s face. Free, Xiaohui ran ahead, stopping in front of two approaching figures.
Xiaofan, recognizing Ling’er Tian, felt a surge of joy. Before he could speak, his heart turned cold as he saw Qi Hao beside her.
Ling’er, surprised by Xiaohui’s sudden change, smiled. “Xiaofan, what are you doing here?”
Xiaofan, emotionless, said, “I was walking with a friend.”
Qi Hao, recognizing Shushu, greeted him politely. “We meet again, Junior Brother Zeng.”
Shushu, flustered, returned the greeting. “Senior Brother Qi, hello.”
Ling’er, curious, asked, “Do you know each other?”
Qi Hao, smiling, introduced Shushu as the son of a prominent figure in the Azure Ethereal Conclave. Ling’er, noting Xiaofan’s strange behavior, approached him. “Xiaofan, are you alright?”
Xiaofan, shaking his head, warned, “Be careful in your match against Lusu Xueqi tomorrow.”
Ling’er, smiling, assured him, “Qi Senior Brother, with his profound cultivation, is guiding me. I won’t lose.”
Qi Hao, laughing, added, “I can’t guarantee that.”
Ling’er, blushing, turned to Xiaofan. “Don’t worry. My parents and Qi Senior Brother will watch. I won’t lose.”
Shushu, noticing Xiaofan’s dejected expression, frowned.
Later that night, under the cold moon, Xiaofan wandered alone, his heart heavy. He walked aimlessly, eventually reaching the Azure Pond. The water reflected the stars, a beautiful sight.
Unmoved, he stood, remembering past moments with Ling’er. Suddenly, he felt a deep pain, clenching his fists.
He turned, gazing into the dark forest, slowly walking towards it.
Under the moonlight, his face was somber. Should he stay in this darkness, watching others’ happiness, tasting his own pain?
Footsteps echoed in the distance. The six patriarchs, including Tian Yibushi, appeared. Tsang Sung, the leader of ChaoYang Peak, mentioned the Grandmaster using the Telepathic Arts with the Spirit Lord, indicating a significant discovery.
After they left, Xiaofan emerged, looking at the pond, seeing the Spirit Lord asleep. He looked up at the cold moon, then took out the black fire-stick.
Shushu’s words haunted him, but now, his mind was filled with the image of Ling’er and Qi Hao together. His heart, once pricked by needles, now felt numb and empty.
He raised the fire-stick, noticing the blood-red lines within it, as if they were his own blood.
Coldness spread from the stick, offering comfort. “Treasure, treasure,” Xiaofan mumbled, “what am I, to use a treasure?”
The icy feeling, alive within him, seemed to react to his sorrow.
He looked up, seeing the fire-stick glowing, the blood-red lines shining. Remembering his past with Ling’er, he felt a surge of uncontrollable impulse.
Closing his eyes, he felt the coldness spread, hearing a roar, as if from the depths of hell, filled with endless rage and blood.
Startled, he opened his eyes, gasping. Moments later, he held the fire-stick, forming a seal. The stick levitated, surrounded by black mist and green light.
Before him, a tree withered, its life drained. He felt a deep connection with the stick, the familiar coldness stronger than ever, with a hint of freshness.
A distant roar broke the silence. Turning, he saw the pond’s water churn. Panicking, he ran, not stopping until he was far from the forest.
Pausing, he looked at the fire-stick, now as ordinary as ever. The next day, the competition resumed.
Sixteen disciples, including Xiaofan, were on the platforms. Ling’er and Lusu Xueqi were on the largest platform, the most anticipated match.
As Xiaofan climbed the platform, he was met with the derisive smiles of the Wind Return Peak disciples. His opponent, Peng Chang, offered a friendly smile, then drew his Wu Hook, a sword of ancient fire copper.
“Let’s begin, Junior Brother,” Peng Chang said, summoning a blazing dragon.
Xiaofan, feeling the heat, summoned the fire-stick, which emitted a faint green light. The audience laughed, but Xiaofan, undeterred, faced the dragon, a boy and his staff against the world.
The laughter died down, and the arena held its breath. The dragon roared, flames engulfing the sky. Xiaofan, feeling the scorch, did not retreat.
With a roar, he charged, the fire-stick piercing the flames. The ground shook, and the fire roared, deafening the crowd.
High Elder and the others, shocked, exchanged glances. “How did it come to this?”
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