Ch147.2 - Wendao Festival Competition 5. Sheathing the Sword

Su Hansheng tilted his head.

Yuan Qian nearby nearly spat out his cold tea, looking at Xu Cezhi incredulously.

This person… has such audacity!

Su Hansheng asked in confusion, “Consider you for what?”

As a sword cultivator, Xu Cezhi had probably never done something as difficult as “confessing love.” After holding it in for a long time, he said expectantly, “Just… consider me, ahem, as your Dao Companion.”

Su Hansheng: “???”

Su Hansheng thought he’d misheard, his eyes widening.

In both his past and present lives, he’d never had much romantic luck. Aside from Qi Jianyi and Chongjue, no one had ever expressed feelings for him. Now that he was already taken, a rotten peach blossom had peeked over the wall.

Xu Cezhi was still eagerly waiting for his answer.

Yuan Qian, afraid the Young Lord would publicly reveal his relationship with the World-Honored One, quickly leaned out and shouted loudly, “Are you two going to fight or not?! Xu Cezhi, if you don’t have the guts, just forfeit and stop wasting our Young Lord’s time!”

Xu Cezhi said innocently, “I’m discussing something serious.”

After being stunned for a while, Su Hansheng frowned. “I don’t even know who you are, yet you want to be my Dao Companion. That’s too frivolous.”

Chongjue would never be so frivolous. In their past life as lovers, they’d sleep together and dual cultivate without ever mentioning titles. In this life, discussing feelings, they only established their relationship after both confessed.

Xu Cezhi quickly said, “Not immediately as Dao Companions. We can spend time together for a few years. Once we’re familiar with each other, we can discuss registration.”

Su Hansheng didn’t want to continue talking, cleanly rejecting him. “No. I already have a Dao Companion.”

Xu Cezhi froze, immediately clutching his breaking young heart, asking pitifully, “Who is it?”

Su Hansheng was about to speak when Yuan Qian started shrieking, “Ahhhh! Are you fighting or not?! If not, just concede!”

Xu Cezhi could only dejectedly move to the other side of the stage.

Su Hansheng also gripped his sword and took the stage.

True sword cultivators were completely different from other Dao cultivators. Though Xu Cezhi seemed carefree, once he stood on stage gripping his sword, his entire aura instantly changed—even the breeze passing by would get slapped by that sharp sword intent.

Su Hansheng rarely felt his blood boil anymore, but now, vaguely sensing the sword intent from Xu Cezhi that could slice him to ribbons, he felt no fear. Instead, he was eager to try, completely unafraid of death.

Xu Cezhi pointed his sword tip down, gripping the hilt and bowing. “Young Lord, please.”

Su Hansheng drew his sword with a clang, fearlessly advancing.

Though the sword techniques Su Xuanlin taught him seemed ordinary, every move was extremely decisive, completely at odds with his flashy temperament.

Having never studied sword manuals before, Su Hansheng had practiced in a daze. But after these two exchanges, he finally grasped Su Xuanlin’s sword technique style.

Fast and ruthless.

Su Hansheng’s form was agile, and his spirit sword was found by Su Xuanlin. Sword intent thundered down, blocking Xu Cezhi’s pressure, instantly closing in.

Xu Cezhi silently praised his speed, immediately raising his sword to strike.

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Su Hansheng was extremely excited, the feeling of boiling blood filling his mind. Eventually, he even got too lazy to bother with talismanic marks, single-mindedly focused on sword exchanges.

Though Xu Cezhi had long admired Su Hansheng and didn’t want to hurt him, he even less wanted a wild sword practitioner who’d barely trained to defeat him in front of all the Ten Great Academies’ students.

Estimating the Young Lord must have protective barriers, he stopped holding back. Nascent Soul pressure swept down overwhelmingly, his spirit sword charging straight for Su Hansheng’s heart.

After all, Su Hansheng was only Golden Core stage. As soon as the pressure hit, his legs were already unsteady.

The excitement in his eyes didn’t diminish. He directly bit his tongue tip to activate the talisman on it, his cultivation instantly surging as he fiercely swung his sword.

Xu Cezhi’s pupils widened slightly, his scalp tingling from shock at this strike.

Could someone who’d barely learned swordsmanship really execute such a technique?

Su Hansheng was single-mindedly focused on defeating the person before him, paying no attention to the sword tip aimed at his heart.

—He saw it but didn’t care. He was even somewhat smugly thinking he’d definitely break through Xu Cezhi’s barrier before destroying his own heart.

Su Xuanlin saw Su Hansheng’s intention and suddenly stood, his expression extremely ugly.

Though Su Hansheng had shed the phoenix bone and reincarnation fate, memories were still buried deep in his consciousness, impossible to completely forget. That touch of madness was completely triggered by this excitement.

But in that split second, Su Hansheng suddenly froze.

No.

This was just a competition—why was he thinking of mutual destruction?

In just that instant, Su Hansheng’s pupils slightly dilated. He suddenly instinctively used talismanic marks to deflect the spirit sword about to pierce his heart, his whole body reflexively retreating.

In that moment of distraction, Xu Cezhi’s sword came through the air, silently resting against Su Hansheng’s neck.

Su Hansheng seemed not to see the sword, his pupils unfocused as he stared at empty space, lost in thought.

Zhuang Lingxiu was also frightened, quickly rushing onto the stage. “Xiaoxiao?”

Xu Cezhi withdrew his sword with lingering fear. Looking at Su Hansheng, his gaze finally wasn’t that of viewing a “future Dao Companion” but rather a worthy and fearsome opponent deserving respect.

Others also saw Su Hansheng’s reckless fighting style. The entire arena fell silent, everyone looking at each other.

Su Hansheng’s hair ribbon had been sliced off by sword intent, his black hair disheveled over his shoulders.

He was helped to the spiritual retreat by Zhuang Lingxiu in a daze. After sitting down and drinking tea, he belatedly realized what he’d just done.

Zhuang Lingxiu rolled up his sleeves to check, frowning deeply. “Where are you injured?”

He truly couldn’t understand how this seemingly carefree child could disregard himself so much in a friendly competition—acting like a desperado.

Su Hansheng had been too close to the sword cultivator, that sword intent drilling into his bones. Now his meridians ached terribly. He said listlessly, “I’m… I’m not injured anywhere. Don’t tell my father and Chongjue…”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Su Xuanlin arrived with a dark expression.

Seeing him, Su Hansheng immediately cowered like a quail, his hastily tied ponytail bristling. He shrank his head, staying sullenly silent.

Su Xuanlin walked expressionlessly to stand before him, his tall frame nearly blocking out the light, his shadow completely covering Su Hansheng’s slender figure with an intimidating pressure.

Su Hansheng felt extremely guilty.

Su Xuanlin didn’t speak, only his knife-like gaze boring into the back of Su Hansheng’s head.

Before long, Su Hansheng was terrified into silence.

Seeing him so frightened, Su Xuanlin said coldly, “Why did I teach you sword techniques?”

Su Hansheng stammered, “I don’t know, I… I don’t know.”

Su Xuanlin froze, suddenly remembering how this child, when young and getting into trouble, would have this same extremely guilty look, shaking his head repeating “Xiaoxiao doesn’t know,” as if saying those words would spare him a beating.

Inexplicably, Su Xuanlin’s heart softened. He sighed silently, crouching down. His tone was still cold but much better than when he’d been ready to beat him.

“Does it hurt?”

Su Hansheng instinctively said it didn’t hurt.

In both his past and present lives, this was how he’d lived. But meeting Su Xuanlin’s eyes timidly, he froze before stammering, “It hurts.”

Su Xuanlin said expressionlessly, “I thought you had iron bones and didn’t know pain.”

Su Hansheng fell silent.

Just as Su Xuanlin was about to scold him more, Chongjue’s voice came. “Stop scolding him.”

Hearing that detached, aloof tone, Su Xuanlin’s temper nearly flared again. “Of course you don’t care—he’s not your son!”

Listening to them argue, Zhuang Lingxiu didn’t dare breathe loudly, though his eyes shone, wishing they’d just start fighting.

In the end, Su Xuanlin’s expression darkened as he glared fiercely at Chongjue. Afraid he’d lose control and start cursing, he could only forcibly restrain himself, tossing a bottle of spirit pills to Su Hansheng before storming off.

Seeing no excitement to watch, Zhuang Lingxiu tactfully bowed and left.

Su Hansheng’s eyes reddened. He reached up to hug Chongjue’s waist, peeking at his cold expression, saying carefully, “Actually, it doesn’t hurt that much.”

Chongjue had just spoken well of him, but now his expression was cold. After sitting down, he skillfully unfastened Su Hansheng’s waist tie.

Su Hansheng rarely saw Chongjue’s cold face. Frightened into silence again, he obediently sat there cooperatively extending his hands, letting Chongjue unfasten his clothes.

Sword intent had penetrated his body, leaving red marks all over his skin—a shocking sight.

Chongjue’s brow furrowed in distress as he treated the injuries with a dark expression.

After a while, he suddenly said, “That final strike—why did you withdraw?”

Su Hansheng asked blankly, “Huh?”

The final strike.

If Su Hansheng had truly struck without hesitation, who would win or lose was uncertain—after all, Xu Cezhi was still a student, without Su Hansheng’s streak of madness. He’d probably withdraw at the last moment before injuring Su Hansheng.

But Su Hansheng withdrew his sword.

Chongjue raised his hand to stroke Su Hansheng’s cheek, saying softly, “Why?”

Su Hansheng stared at him in confusion for a long time before lowering his head and quietly answering.

“…I wanted to live.”

If it had been the previously mad Su Hansheng, he’d have risked his life without blinking for that moment’s thrill, not caring about injuries or whether others would worry about him.

Chongjue looked down at him.

Earlier on the martial stage, when Su Hansheng was risking his life, Chongjue had even felt a rare sense of hopelessness.

The past was past. Without the phoenix bone, he couldn’t change it. No matter how much love he used to warm Su Hansheng, he always seemed to see himself as rotten wood buried in mud.

He didn’t care about himself, seemingly ready at any moment to sacrifice himself like in his past life, smiling as he transformed into a lush phoenix tree.

Chongjue didn’t know how to save this seemingly lively yet reckless little madman.

…Fortunately, at that moment, Su Hansheng withdrew his sword.

Chongjue pulled Su Hansheng into his embrace, stroking his warm cheek with eyes gently closed.

Thank goodness. Thank goodness.

Su Hansheng didn’t understand but, seeing his attitude had softened, boldly nestled in his embrace and nuzzled. “I lost. No championship now.”

The smile in Chongjue’s eyes remained, his gaze impossibly gentle. “Your training time is still short. It’s normal not to match sword cultivators who’ve practiced since childhood. After you graduate and train next year, you’ll surely win championships.”

Su Hansheng made an “oh” sound. Looking at the man’s gentle expression, he suddenly thought of something and laughed for no reason. “Do you know who I fought just now?”

Chongjue: “Mm?”

Su Hansheng smiled with narrowed eyes. “My admirer. Before the fight, he even confessed to me, saying if I lost, I should be his Dao Companion.”

Chongjue: “???”

This was Su Hansheng’s first time seeing Chongjue with this expression. He laughed so hard his phoenix tail nearly reached the sky, saying proudly, “So I’m quite popular. I advise you to quickly find a way to register with me, or I’ll be stolen away and you won’t catch up even if you chase.”

Chongjue: “…”

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