Ch91 - Lacking Understanding

The Buddhist hall wasn’t large, and Zou Chi was still present.

Chongjue hadn’t expected Su Hansheng to be so bold. He was about to push the foot away when Su Hansheng cheerfully waved his paw—the one with the talisman carved on it.

Chongjue: “…”

Though Zou Chi perceived the motion beneath the table, he thought nothing of it—merely assuming the boy’s legs had gone numb from kneeling and he was stretching. It happened to brush against the World-Honored One by accident. He continued discussing the matter at hand.

“World-Honored One, once you return to Mount Sumeru, it’s unclear when we’ll see you again. Your tribulation hasn’t been overcome. After leaving seclusion, will you return to Wendao Academy?”

Chongjue made an effort to keep his attention off his lower leg, saying indifferently: “Yes. By then, Xiaoxiao should be approaching his coming-of-age ceremony.”

Zou Chi smiled: “Children grow so quickly. I feel like just yesterday Xiaoxiao was babbling nonsense, and now it’s been only a few years before he becomes an adult.”

The “babbling” Su Hansheng, seeing Chongjue continuing to discuss seclusion, couldn’t help but forcefully kick his knee, his foot arch completely tensed.

Chongjue remained unmoved, saying coldly: “Yes, when he was young, he barely reached my knee.”

Now he dared kick his knee.

Su Hansheng, realizing he’d been “flirting,” quickly withdrew his leg and looked at Chongjue pitifully: “Uncle, you really must enter seclusion? If you leave Wendao Academy and I get bullied…”

Before Chongjue could respond, Zou Chi kindly said: “Don’t worry, Xiaoxiao. If you’re ever truly bullied, come find me. I’ll ensure you receive justice.”

Su Hansheng: “…”

What could he say? He could only offer a dry laugh: “Vice Dean, you’re truly kind. Thank you.”

Zou Chi glanced at the time and said quietly: “Xiaoxiao came to see the World-Honored One today—is there some urgent matter?”

Better that he leave quickly before his reputation is compromised.

“Oh.” Su Hansheng already had his excuse prepared. “The dormitory at Falling Parasol Lodge has a hole in it. I can’t live there temporarily, so I wanted to stay one night in Uncle’s guest quarters behind the Buddhist hall.”

As he spoke, his toes hooked toward Chongjue’s lower leg again, smiling: “Uncle won’t send me away, will he?”

Chongjue glanced at him.

Zou Chi actually gave it serious thought: “Falling Parasol Lodge was just renovated. How would a hole appear? I’ll have someone check.”

Su Hansheng quickly stopped him: “It’s just a small hole, nothing serious really. But my body is sensitive to light, so I can only stay here tonight.”

His words were pure evasion, but Zou Chi had no suspicions of his “wolfish intentions” and thought nothing more of it.

“Mm, fine. We’ll discuss it tomorrow then.”

Chongjue helplessly rubbed his brow.

Since Su Hansheng was staying, even if Zou Chi wanted to obstruct, he couldn’t linger the entire night. So he rose to take his leave. Before departing, he gave Chongjue a helpless look, sighed, and nodded goodbye before leaving the Buddhist hall.

Chongjue watched him depart, then withdrew his attention. Su Hansheng had already straightened his leg, and his subtle teasing became completely overt—his foot pressing directly onto Chongjue’s knee.

Chongjue said mildly: “Not going to sleep?”

Su Hansheng’s smile froze.

He was already nearly reaching Chongjue’s waist. In the previous life, the evil one would have already seized his ankle and dragged him over. Yet now there was no reaction whatsoever—as if nothing had happened.

Did he need to be more explicit?

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After choking for a while, Su Hansheng glanced down at the prayer beads around his neck and quickly removed them: “This is a piece of jade prayer bead string I carefully selected from the Ink Workshop. Uncle, do you like it?”

The Ink Workshop at Yingxu Sect’s bazaar naturally wouldn’t scam customers. Su Hansheng had chosen the most expensive piece—naturally of superior quality, the beads faintly gleaming with moonlight-like radiance.

Truly a rare spiritual treasure.

Chongjue reached to accept it when Su Hansheng’s delicate fingers smoothly caressed the back of his hand, saying with a smile: “Let me put it on for you.”

Chongjue hesitated but didn’t refuse.

The size difference between them was evident—Su Hansheng had no sword practice experience nor heavy labor, his beautiful fingers slender and graceful. As one hand held Chongjue’s significantly larger one, under the pretense of fastening the prayer beads, his fingertips subtly traced ambiguous caresses across the back of his hand.

Chongjue’s brow furrowed slightly.

Tingling sensations spread from where his hand was touched, racing up his arm and throughout his limbs. His consciousness sea churned, nearly causing him to involuntarily snatch his hand away.

Su Hansheng vaguely noticed Chongjue’s fingers reflexively curl slightly, delighting internally as his hand moved forward, gently stroking the inside of his wrist.

Chongjue abruptly withdrew his hand, saying coldly: “I’ll do it myself.”

Su Hansheng saw the opportunity and obediently pulled back, smiling happily with squinted eyes.

Wrapping the long prayer bead string around his wrist several times, Chongjue silently recited Buddhist scripture to steady his mind, slightly closing his eyes before issuing dismissal.

“It’s late. Go to sleep.”

Chongjue had expected more resistance, but instead he simply rose and took his leave politely and smoothly—unusually obedient.

Chongjue was actually surprised by Su Hansheng’s sudden compliance.

Had he finally stopped causing trouble?

Chongjue waited patiently—Su Hansheng had genuinely gone to the guest quarters in the back to prepare for sleep, showing no signs of further mischief.

A complex mixture of emotions filled Chongjue. He lowered his eyes to gaze at the prayer beads on his wrist, his fingertip gently caressing the warm jade. That tingling sensation seemed to return, spreading from his finger through to his heart.

Chongjue quietly closed his eyes and began reciting Buddhist scripture.

He was merely testing the constraint talisman he’d carved, and since Su Hansheng himself was sulking over having him enter seclusion, his behavior today was particularly odd.

Just a half-grown boy, after all.

Once his anger passed, his attention would shift to other new people or things.

To Su Hansheng, the World-Honored One of Mount Sumeru, who’d lived for thousands of years, was merely a passing acquaintance.

Even if he truly harbored other feelings, after a few years of separation, upon seeing him again, Su Hansheng would likely not even remember who he was.

A world of flourishing pleasures, a noisy mortal realm.

It should be thus.

Thinking this, Chongjue’s hand, which had been working the prayer beads, paused. He abruptly opened his eyes, regarding the direction of the back courtyard with an indescribable expression.

Su Hansheng, without reservation, was once again “defiling” the World-Honored One’s back courtyard hot spring, submerging himself naked into the water. He called to the void: “Uncle, won’t you bathe with me? I know you’re watching.”

Chongjue: “…”

Chongjue suddenly felt his head aching.

Su Hansheng was still shouting: “Uncle, on such a hot night, don’t you bathe in the evenings? I remember you’re obsessive about cleanliness. Not bathing…”

Even a saint should be angry by now. Chongjue transmitted coldly: “Shall I send you back to Falling Parasol Lodge?”

Normally, Su Hansheng would have cowered, but this time, for reasons unknown, he’d gained courage: “Go ahead, send me back. Let the sun kill me at dawn. After all, I’m Fuling bloodline—Heaven’s probably wanted me dead anyway.”

Chongjue: “You…”

Chongjue tried to calm himself, working the prayer beads, nearly making them spark from friction, but remembering the beads were a gift from Su Hansheng, he felt even more uneasy.

A Great Ascension cultivator’s divine sense, even when suppressed, would extend dozens of li. The Buddhist hall and back courtyard were only a few steps apart.

Even with his eyes closed, deliberately not looking, his divine sense could feel Su Hansheng splashing and playing in the hot spring.

Su Hansheng still had an instinctive fear of water, able only to sit on the shallow warming stone. His dark hair trailed downward, faintly floating in the water like swaying seaweed obscured by mist.

He hummed an unnamed tune, his beautiful face flushed by the hot water’s steam. Water droplets clung to his feathered lashes—as he blinked, they fell like tears to the water’s surface, creating ripples that spread gently.

The ripples suddenly expanded, crashing violently into Chongjue’s consciousness sea.

Chongjue worked the prayer beads faster, his expression growing darker, yet his divine sense couldn’t fully retract. Forced into action, he channeled spiritual power—the thin layer of water vapor above the spring suddenly thickened into dense fog, hand outstretched unable to see five fingers.

Su Hansheng, submerged in mist, froze for a while before muttering unhappily: “Lacks romantic sensibility.”

Su Hansheng knew when to stop. After finishing his bath, he haphazardly wrapped his still-dripping body in his robes and, disgruntled, returned to the back courtyard quarters to sleep.

Buddhist cultivators were truly stubborn.

Su Hansheng suspected that even if he genuinely confessed his feelings to Chongjue, he’d probably just treat it as childish nonsense.

The virtuous one had no carnal desire. Only the evil one did.

Su Hansheng, head down and dispirited, returned to the back quarters to sleep.

He’d make another attempt tomorrow.

He really needed to consult with his second senior sister.

In the vast Buddhist hall, Chongjue’s eyes tightly shut, the prayer beads in his hands nearly crushed, only his final restraint—remembering they were Su Hansheng’s gift—prevented him from pulverizing them.

Though Su Hansheng was now properly dressed, sleeping soundly on the bed, Chongjue’s mind was even more turbulent than before.

It seemed the ripple from that water droplet never dispersed in circles but instead stirred violent waves in his consciousness sea, unable to settle.

Chongjue closed his eyes, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

The evil one, crouched in a corner of the consciousness sea where it had been cursing at the virtuous one, noticed this scene through layers of barriers and raised an eyebrow slightly, as if having understood something.

The Gong family rabble had known of Su Hansheng’s phoenix bone and brought such mortal danger that the virtuous one hadn’t thought to kill them. But now, with divine sense falling upon Su Hansheng sleeping four-ways-up, robes and hair disheveled—he couldn’t help but generate endless evil impulses.

…Yet before they could fully form, he himself snuffed them out.

Perhaps the virtuous one didn’t realize what he felt was desire, greed. He only knew this sensation contradicted his nature, it didn’t belong to him—it needed suppression, control.

The evil one raised an eyebrow and suddenly laughed.

Carnal desire counted as an evil impulse, didn’t it?

It seemed he now understood how to merge with the virtuous one.

Chongjue sat upright in the Buddhist hall, forcing himself to meditate and contemplate enlightenment, yet his lips barely parted—no matter how many sutras he recited, none penetrated his heart.

For the first time, Chongjue had become acutely aware…

His Buddhist heart was in chaos.

Was this his tribulation?

Chongjue tightly gripped the prayer beads, his brow furrowed, sweat beads condensing and slowly sliding down his face.

Suddenly, a strange memory seemed to flash through his consciousness sea.

—A memory that didn’t belong to him.

In a sunless forbidden chamber, countless lotus lanterns drifted about, faintly illuminating two figures within the bed curtains.

The bedding lay in disarray, long dark hair scattered chaotically across brocade quilts. Someone seemed to be breathing heavily at his ear, a soft hand suddenly reaching from the side, grasping his shoulder tightly.

Chongjue lowered his eyes, his pupils suddenly dilating completely.

The person beneath him had feathered lashes that fluttered softly, a tear sliding down from the eye’s corner, disappearing into dark hair. The beautiful youth lay in the rumpled bed, his neck covered in bite marks stained with blood.

That soft hand gripped his broad shoulder, lips crimson as blood.

Chongjue’s entire body went rigid, as he heard the whispered call.

“Chongjue…”

Chongjue’s eyes suddenly snapped open, his dark blue pupils flickering for an instant with an odd white hue before it vanished.

What was that memory?

That person…

Was it Su Hansheng?

**