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Ch100 - The Coming-of-Age Ceremony




This didn’t sound like something the World-Honored One would say.
It almost sounded like something the Evil one would say.
Su Hansheng furrowed his brow, abandoning his pretense of courtesy: “You’ve merged?”
Chongjue didn’t answer, looking down at him expectantly.
Su Hansheng felt oddly guilty, but reconsidering, it was only a slip of the tongue while drunk. Could it be more serious than the crime of abandoning him for three whole years? His resolve suddenly strengthened.
“It’s merely hearsay,” Su Hansheng said coldly, keeping his expression stern. “My senior sister has already clarified. You and I share a deep uncle-nephew bond. Others spreading gossip behind our backs—why do you question me about it?”
Seeing Su Hansheng seething with pent-up anger ready to explode, Chongjue didn’t want to burst the bubble, so he said gently: “Not a question, merely curiosity.”
Su Hansheng stared at him boldly. Looking at his composed, untouchable expression made him furious.
Suddenly, anger swelled from his heart, courage rose to his lips. He thought: not even a word of coaxing upon reunion, and the first thing you do is bring up old grievances?
Fine, let’s do this. Who’s afraid of whom?
Su Hansheng lifted that courteous, false smile again: “I also have a question I hope Uncle can clarify for me.”
Chongjue said flatly: “What is it?”
Su Hansheng stared intently at his eyes, unwilling to miss any shift in his expression: “That night when Uncle left, why did you kiss me even though you were already awake?”
Chongjue: “…”
Su Hansheng was pleased to see Chongjue’s expression freeze. Unable to resist, he said smugly: “Oh, could it be that Uncle really is an old tree blooming late, wanting to develop a forbidden, improper romance with your dear friend’s son?”
The candlelight flickered.
Chongjue’s face appeared and disappeared in shadow. A faint glimmer seemed to dance in his ink-black eyes. He held Su Hansheng’s gaze for a moment, then suddenly, without warning, looked away and spoke quietly: “Your coming-of-age ceremony is at dawn. Rest early.”
Su Hansheng had been full of smugness, but his eyes widened in shock. He grabbed Chongjue’s wrist as he tried to leave, urgently demanding: “You haven’t answered my question! How can you just walk away?!”
Chongjue looked down at Su Hansheng’s slightly trembling hand and spoke with what seemed like reluctance: “Xiaoxiao, you know it’s impossible.”
Su Hansheng’s expression froze.
He apparently hadn’t expected Chongjue to refuse him so directly.
Chongjue pulled up the brocade quilt: “Sleep.”
He seemingly couldn’t bear to meet Su Hansheng’s eyes and stood to leave.
“Then you—!”
Su Hansheng knelt forward on the bed, grabbing Chongjue’s sleeve.
Chongjue’s footsteps stopped.
Su Hansheng looked up at him, his voice growing quieter, confused: “…Then why did you emerge from seclusion early? Wasn’t it specifically to attend my coming-of-age ceremony?”
Su Hansheng was actually easy to coax. He’d suffered enough that even the smallest sweet gesture could make him forget his grievances, putting aside three years of resentment, happily savoring that tiny bit of kindness, carelessly casting all anger aside.
Since their reunion, Su Hansheng’s acting out was merely hoping Chongjue would comfort him with a single sentence.
Just one…wasn’t even that allowed?
Chongjue turned slightly. His cold features appeared as indifferent as an unfeeling deity: “No. The Heaven-Reaching Tower has undergone major changes. Zou Chi cannot handle it alone.”
…He had not emerged from seclusion specifically for Su Hansheng’s coming-of-age ceremony.
The light reflected in Su Hansheng’s eyes by the candleflame dimmed inch by inch. The hand gripping Chongjue’s sleeve slowly relaxed, and his body swayed slightly as he knelt blankly amid the rumpled bedding.
Even someone as cold as Zhuang Lingge would tell a lie to make him happy. Yet Chongjue wouldn’t even comfort him with a single sentence.
Seeing him sitting there despondently, Chongjue’s heart—nearly frozen by the mountain’s snow—seemed to shift slightly, as if squeezed painfully. After a long moment, he softened his voice.
“If you dislike the courtesy name ‘Yuanqiu,’ I can choose a new one for you.”
Su Hansheng sat blankly on the bed, biting his tongue to control his emotions, responding quietly: “No need. This one is fine.”
After all, the students at Wendao Academy had already spread word of his “Su Yuanxiao” nickname. Changing it wouldn’t make much difference.
Chongjue hesitated for a long time, then couldn’t bear to leave. He sat back down and pulled out an exquisite box, offering it forward.
“This is your coming-of-age gift.”
Su Hansheng showed no emotion, giving a soft “mm” of acknowledgment as he casually accepted it: “Thank you, Uncle.”
He didn’t even look at it, tossing it onto the bed head and staring blankly at his own hands.
Over three years, his ten slender fingertips were now covered densely with talismans. He’d formed a core and bore nine talismans on his body. He no longer needed anyone to protect him constantly.
Chongjue remained silent for a long time before finally turning to leave.
Su Hansheng watched his departing back, his lips pressing together.
Yes.
Chongjue was right. It truly was impossible.
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Su Hansheng carved talismans until the middle of the night, yet his face showed indifference while his heart churned into chaos. The Slaughter Decree was particularly intricate—after carving it three times with patience, it suddenly unleashed a wave of spiritual energy with a “hiss.”
It wouldn’t take proper form at all.
Su Hansheng patiently carved once more. On the final stroke, his mind wandered. Staring at the dispersed talisman, he suddenly—without warning—threw the magical artifact in his hand under the bed.
Boom.
The artifact shattered into pieces, scattering messily around.
Su Hansheng looked at the broken artifact, his eyes reddening—whether from exhaustion or sorrow, he couldn’t tell. He took a few sharp breaths, turned to lie back on the bed, and haphazardly wiped his face.
His companion tree timidly picked up the scattered artifact pieces to spare Su Hansheng’s feet from being pricked. It carefully extended a withered branch, hesitantly trying to touch Su Hansheng.
Su Hansheng pulled the brocade quilt over his head, speaking muffledly: “Get away. Go play outside.”
The companion tree hesitated for a moment before withdrawing to the main trunk in the courtyard.
Hanmang Garden’s plum blossoms bloomed in abundance.
Chongjue sat in a chair beside the railing, eyes closed in meditation. Upon hearing the commotion in the room, he opened his eyes slightly and turned to look.
The candles had been extinguished by the companion tree. He could faintly hear Su Hansheng tossing and turning, unable to sleep.
Chongjue flicked his finger, sending a gentle wave of spiritual energy into the inner room.
Within moments, Su Hansheng’s breathing gradually evened out, finally falling into deep sleep.
Chongjue sat alone beneath the plum tree, the candlelight swaying gently, casting a subtle warmth upon his cold features as if lighting them from within.
Suddenly, a voice spoke in his ear, neither quite smiling nor serious: “…He got drunk at the Wendao Festival celebration banquet last year, randomly hugging people and calling them ‘Uncle.’ That gossip spread throughout all three realms.”
Chongjue didn’t turn around, speaking flatly: “I know.”
The person who spoke slowly walked to the corridor’s edge, supporting himself on the railing as he sat and dangled his legs lazily: “Then why do you treat him that way? A few kind words to coax him costs you nothing.”
Chongjue turned his head and looked at him coldly.
The newcomer was Qifu Zhao, except his eyes now displayed beautiful, gleaming amber.
It was Qifu Yin.
Chongjue spoke coldly: “I only asked you to protect him. Don’t meddle in other matters.”
“He’s my nephew,” Qifu Yin smiled, curving his lips. “Not just his eyes—his face is beautiful too. I could just…”
Before he finished speaking, Qifu Yin suddenly felt a sharp pain in his neck. Reaching up to touch it, his hand came away covered in blood.
An invisible spiritual blade had carved a wound across his neck. One more inch and it would have severed his blood vessels.
Chongjue hadn’t moved, his eyes growing colder: “I’m saying this one last time. Don’t do anything unnecessary.”
Qifu Yin nearly died but felt no fear. He simply wiped his neck casually, dangling his legs as if nothing had happened, smiling without warmth: “I suggest you treat me better. If heaven is blind and you really do end up registering a household with Su Hansheng later, you’ll have to call me uncle.”
Chongjue: “…”
Chongjue seemed ready to curse him, but with the evil thought only halfway merged into his consciousness, he couldn’t find the words. He could only look at him coldly and change the subject.
“What exactly has happened to the Heaven-Reaching Tower?”
Qifu Yin laughed mockingly: “What else could it be? It’s about to collapse.”
Chongjue furrowed his brow.
A few years ago, the evil thought had stated with certainty that the Heaven-Reaching Tower would collapse in twelve years. Yet hardly three years had passed.
“Hurry and find a way to break Xuanling’s bone chains,” Qifu Yin said impatiently. “Otherwise, when the Heaven-Reaching Tower collapses, you’ll be the first one dragged out for sacrifice, becoming bone dust just like the three sacred objects two thousand years ago.”
Chongjue replied: “If I sacrifice myself for the Heavenly Way, it won’t seek out the other three sacred objects.”
Qifu Yin froze, his expression becoming grim: “You…”
Only then did he understand. It turned out Chongjue had rejected Su Hansheng so ruthlessly because he’d already planned to martyr himself.
“Foolish,” Qifu Yin came to his senses, saying coldly. “Two thousand years ago, the four sacred objects weren’t buried to stabilize Mount Buzhou, but rather…”
Boom!
A thunderbolt suddenly crashed down, striking directly between Qifu Yin’s brows.
Qifu Yin’s words stopped abruptly. His pupils suddenly dilated until they nearly filled his eyes. An invisible fortune suddenly rose from his body, as if a thread connected him to Su Hansheng in the inner room.
With a boom.
The thunder instantly dissipated into nothingness.
Qifu Yin’s soul hadn’t yet settled. His hair ornament had been charred to black powder, his long hair falling loose, making him look inexplicably disheveled.
If not for the half of Su Hansheng’s fortune he bore, that last strike would have scattered his soul alongside Qifu Zhao.
Chongjue observed coldly, and only after the thunder dissipated did he speak without preamble: “If the Heavenly Way collapses, let only my one life save all living beings. There’s no need to implicate others.”
He only wanted Su Hansheng to emerge from this catastrophe unscathed and live carefree.
Qifu Yin was nearly furious, no longer fearing the threat of divine punishment. Words poured out uncontrolled: “Now you should know why, when Xuanling was possessed by the Heavenly Way back then, they dragged the evil thought down into Infinite Hell, leaving only you in the three realms, right?”
Chongjue looked at him coldly.
Qifu Yin cursed: “…Because the Heavenly Way saw you as a ‘compassionate fool’! Create even the slightest catastrophe and you’d willingly be used by it. What do the three realms’ people matter to you? Let them die. How many of my clan have died at the Heavenly Way’s hands over the years? Why haven’t you rushed to save them?”
Qifu Yin considered himself “selfish,” utterly unable to understand where Chongjue’s “Buddhist heart” for sacrificing himself for all living beings came from.
Speaking nicely, it was cultivating a “Buddhist heart.” Speaking harshly, wasn’t it just stubborn pedantry easy to manipulate?
Yet Chongjue said: “And what was the result of you not willingly being used by it?”
Qifu Yin went rigid.
The result was…
The three sacred objects died tragically at the Heaven-Reaching Tower, their souls scattered. The Lanke Records clan was branded with the Fuli clan’s mark, exiled to Infinite Hell and cast into the western wastes, never to see daylight again.
Chongjue looked at him impassively: “I only want all living beings…and him to survive.”
Qifu Yin stared at him in silence for a long time, then without a word jumped down from the railing and left, sleeves brushing past.
Chongjue closed his eyes again, his fingers playing with the Buddhist beads Su Hansheng had sent. His heart was more at peace than ever before.
A catastrophe approached. Su Hansheng’s Phoenix Bone…
Absolutely could not let the three realms discover it.
***
Early the next morning, the morning bell of Mount Sumeru rang through the entire mountain range.
Su Hansheng woke after a full night’s sleep. His injuries from yesterday had completely healed. His body felt refreshed, and even the nearly depleted spiritual energy in his dantian had been fully restored.
Early in the morning, Qifu Zhao came to wake Su Hansheng.
Su Hansheng was already up, in the process of putting on the elegant coming-of-age robes that Xie Zhizhi had prepared for him. He held out his hands, letting his companion tree help him tie his sashes and fasten his jade ornaments.
Seeing the companion tree was equally confused about the coming-of-age ceremonial robes, Qifu Zhao helplessly stepped forward to personally dress Su Hansheng.
Su Hansheng yawned, speaking unclearly: “Do we have to leave this early?”
“Yes,” Qifu Zhao said. “Many noble guests from various sects have already arrived. It wouldn’t be proper for Young Lord to arrive late.”
Su Hansheng made a small sound of acknowledgment. His peripheral vision caught sight of what looked like a hideously scarred wound on Qifu Zhao’s neck that had just recently healed. He furrowed his brow: “How did you get hurt?”
Speaking of it, Qifu Zhao was equally confused: “I’m not sure. I woke up like this.”
It seemed these past years, Qifu Zhao’s body would occasionally show up with all sorts of strange injuries. Since they generally weren’t fatal, he figured he must sleepwalk and didn’t pay much attention.
Su Hansheng found it painful just looking at it. He pulled out a spirit pill and shoved it to Qifu Zhao.
Qifu Zhao curved his eyes in a gentle smile: “Thank you, Young Lord.”
Su Hansheng said nothing. He still wasn’t particularly comfortable with gratitude from others. He could only pretend to be serious, lowering his gaze to look at his own claws.
Qifu Zhao glanced over and raised an eyebrow: “Young Lord has nine talismans on his ten fingers, and they all seem to be offensive-type marks. Is the last one meant to be a protective talisman?”
Su Hansheng said: “No, I’m planning to carve another Slaughter Decree.”
Qifu Zhao was startled: “The Slaughter Decree is extremely powerful—it’s supposedly one of the top three forbidden techniques in the Lanke Records. Young Lord… please reconsider. It’s better to carve a protective decree.”
Balance between defense and offense.
Su Hansheng raised an eyebrow: “If I encounter someone with cultivation far beyond mine who’s determined to kill me, even if I covered my hands and body with talismans, I still couldn’t escape their clutches.”
Qifu Zhao: “Uh…”
That was true, though.
Su Hansheng stretched out his ten fingers lazily: “Better to carve all offensive talismans. As long as I have one breath left to kill my enemy, naturally there’ll be no danger.”
Qifu Zhao: “…”
Thinking about it carefully, that actually made quite a bit of sense.
Within a few exchanges, Qifu Zhao skillfully finished dressing Su Hansheng in his robes.
Su Hansheng thanked him, then beckoned his dejected companion tree and headed with Qifu Zhao toward the front hall of Mount Sumeru.
Halfway there, Qifu Zhao said: “I heard Young Lord’s coming-of-age ceremony will be presided over by the World-Honored One.”
Su Hansheng’s footsteps on the stairs paused. He said coldly: “Who changed it? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
Qifu Zhao looked at him suspiciously.
Was he unhappy?
But looking closely, one could see that Su Hansheng, who’d been walking slowly up the stairs, actually quickened his pace after hearing this news. His brow and eyes seemed to carry a subtle, intangible joy.
Su Hansheng hadn’t even noticed his expression had changed.
He kept a straight face as he reached the front hall. Sure enough, he saw many people from other major sects throughout the three realms had already arrived.
Su Hansheng had no mood to make small talk with strangers. He grabbed his heavy robes and jogged into the imposing hall.
After crossing the threshold, he pretended to compose himself, straightening his robes and walking in slowly with a calm expression, looking perfectly composed.
The normally sparsely populated hall was now filled with cultivators wearing various clan robes. They chatted in small groups, though their eyes kept drifting toward Chongjue on the main seat, quietly discussing something with Xie Zhizhi.
The World-Honored One of Mount Sumeru was not someone easily seen on other occasions.
When Su Hansheng entered, the chatter stopped. Everyone smiled and offered Su Hansheng their congratulations.
Su Hansheng was perfectly courteous, responding to each in turn.
After the pleasantries, he finally walked up to the main seats and bowed respectfully.
“Elder Xie, Uncle, greetings.”
Xie Zhizhi smiled: “Xiaoxiao looks even more like an adult in these coming-of-age robes.”
Su Hansheng said seriously: “I come of age today. I am an adult.”
Xie Zhizhi couldn’t help but smile and handed over the prepared coming-of-age gift.
Su Hansheng accepted it without ceremony.
While exchanging pleasantries with others earlier, his gaze kept glancing toward Chongjue. But now that he’d arrived, he didn’t look at Chongjue even once.
Chongjue held a teacup, drinking tea. His gaze rested lightly on Su Hansheng in his adult attire, but he didn’t initiate conversation.
Xie Zhizhi keenly sensed something strange between the two. Recalling the rumors spreading wildly throughout the three realms, he nearly choked on his tea. After coughing a few times, he spoke gently: “Xiaoxiao, your friends are all playing in the side hall. You don’t need to make small talk here. Go play.”
Su Hansheng made a sound of acknowledgment and prepared to leave when Changkong appeared from somewhere, looking flustered: “Elder Xie… ah, Young Lord.”
Xie Zhizhi said: “What happened?”
Changkong hesitated, looking at Su Hansheng, uncertain whether he should speak.
Xie Zhizhi smiled: “Xiaoxiao, go play.”
Su Hansheng could tell Xie Zhizhi wanted to dismiss him. He obediently said “okay,” nodded, turned, and left for the side hall without looking back.
Chongjue had been drinking tea. Only after Su Hansheng turned did he glance toward the tall, elegantly robed retreating figure.
Suddenly, Su Hansheng, who’d walked several steps, whipped his head around.
Chongjue: “…”
Chongjue nearly spilled his tea. At the critical moment, he pretended to look away casually, as if suddenly fascinated by the carved beads nearby.
Su Hansheng scanned the area, found nothing strange, then turned and left.
Chongjue imperceptibly breathed a sigh of relief.
Xie Zhizhi asked Changkong: “What were you about to say? Does it concern the Young Lord?”
“Yes.” Changkong’s face twisted with disgust, his tone full of revulsion. “The people from Hanshan Sect have arrived.”
Xie Zhizhi nodded: “I sent the invitation. It should be the Hanshan Sect Master who arrived. Why do you look like that?”
Hanshan Sect hadn’t torn relations with Mount Sumeru. In fact, because of the betrothal between Su Hansheng and Qi Jianyi, outsiders believed the two sects were on good terms.
Though Qi Jianyi had died in the Lanke secret realm, the betrothal had never been formally dissolved.
Since the person was dead anyway and the marriage contract broken, dissolving it or not made no difference.
Changkong held back for a long time before stammering: “No, it’s… it’s…”
He stuttered “it’s” for a while before trembling: “…It’s Qi Jianyi.”
Xie Zhizhi froze.
Even Chongjue, drinking tea nearby, paused his movements.
Qi Jianyi?
Didn’t he scatter into nothingness in the Lanke secret realm at the Wendao Festival?!
***
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