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Ch74.1 - Plotting against the law




The commotion was too great. Wu Baili and Yuan Qian, who’d already picked out other tree vines, came back.
“What happened? Who bid?”
Worried that Wu Baili and Yuan Qian—who didn’t know Chongjue’s true identity—would scold him, Su Hansheng quickly stepped in front of him. “My hand slipped.”
Chongjue froze slightly, lowering his gaze to the youth standing protectively in front of him. His fingers absently traced the prayer beads at his wrist, as if the warmth of that palm still lingered on his fingertips.
Wu Baili opened his mouth, then looked at Yuan Qian.
Yuan Qian rubbed his temples in exasperation and made a sweeping “go ahead” gesture with two fingers.
As if a seal had been lifted, Wu Baili immediately sneered. “Congratulations to the Young Master on becoming someone’s little wife. Don’t forget to invite us for wedding wine.”
Su Hansheng: “……”
Had Wu Baili been this sarcastic when they first met?
Yuan Qian said helplessly, “The little wife made a foolish mistake. Separate Years Market even opened the barrier to prevent trouble—we can’t run even if we wanted to now.”
The little wife surnamed Su: “……”
Su Hansheng couldn’t help himself—he boldly turned and glared at Chongjue.
This was all his fault for recklessly placing that bid.
But when he turned, he met Chongjue’s downcast gaze directly, the smile at the corners of his eyes not yet faded, as if he’d been watching him for a long time.
Su Hansheng paused.
That smile… didn’t look like an elder watching a junior. Something about it felt off.
Before Su Hansheng could think further, the Ink Workshop’s proprietor approached respectfully, holding the wooden plaque for the Divine Tree Vines.
—Clearly coming to collect payment.
Su Hansheng forced himself to stay calm, straightening his sleeves, and whispered to Yuan Qian, “Do we have any heavenly treasures?”
“I could shed my skin right now—eighteen-year-old snake molt, barely worth five hundred spirit stones,” Yuan Qian said seriously.
Su Hansheng patted Yuan Qian’s shoulder with a sigh. “Keep your genuine leather coat for yourself.”
Yuan Qian: “……”
Chongjue’s gaze never left Su Hansheng, practically unwavering. What should have been cool, tranquil dark eyes seemed to swirl and distort, pupils harboring a barely perceptible possessiveness and oppressive force.
Looking at the eyes alone would send chills down one’s spine at the covetousness hidden within.
Yet he forcibly disguised himself with calm warmth, brow and eyes detached, otherworldly.
Qifu Zhao frowned.
Unfazed, Chongjue deliberately moved to Su Hansheng’s side, inserting himself into the youth’s line of sight.
“I can pay for you—”
Before he could finish offering to settle the bill, the proprietor was right in front of them. Su Hansheng immediately elbowed Chongjue, signaling him to be quiet, and nodded casually at the approaching man.
Chongjue: “……”
The proprietor beamed—he’d probably never seen anyone rich enough to spend thirty thousand spirit stones on two broken vines. Smiling broadly, he presented the wooden plaque. “Young Daoist is so young! Truly, heroes emerge from youth.”
Su Hansheng smiled back. “You’re too kind, sir. It’s only thirty thousand spirit stones—Baili, take a look at those vines. Are they good quality? Do you like them?”
The proprietor’s smile widened. “So it was for a dear friend—spending a fortune with such loyalty and righteousness!”
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The proprietor had seen customers renege on bids before—usually they got a beating and were thrown out. But this young Daoist had an extraordinary bearing, his clothes screamed wealth and status, and the other artifact he wanted was absurdly expensive.
If this deal went through…
The proprietor hesitated. “But you’ve already placed your bid…”
“Come now.” Su Hansheng draped an arm over the proprietor’s shoulder and casually stuffed a handful of spirit stones into his hand. “Just find whoever bid lower than me earlier, give them a discount, and resell it to them. Saves you the trouble of re-auctioning.”
The proprietor thought for a long moment, then gritted his teeth slightly. “Let me go ask.”
Su Hansheng nodded eagerly like a pecking chicken.
Once the proprietor left, Su Hansheng immediately dropped his young master act and cheerfully sidled up to Wu Baili. “Nice acting, Baili! That proprietor was completely taken in.”
Wu Baili rubbed his temples. “You know you won’t be able to buy from the Ink Workshop anymore after this.”
Su Hansheng didn’t care—once Xu Nanxian got back, he could buy anything.
Yuan Qian had already pulled out some melon seeds and was munching away, curious. “So are you going to bid on that other artifact?”
“Bid my ass.” Su Hansheng said casually. “We’ll return the vines and run.”
Everyone: “……”
Having blurted out the crude phrase without thinking, Su Hansheng suddenly remembered Uncle was there. He quickly covered his mouth, worried he’d get beaten, and cautiously glanced at Chongjue.
Sure enough, Chongjue looked displeased, eyes dark as he watched him—as if the next moment he might produce a cane to thrash him with.
Su Hansheng had finally smoothed things over with Chongjue and didn’t want another falling out. He grinned and tugged placatingly at Chongjue’s sleeve. “Brother Wen, don’t be angry—I won’t say it again.”
Chongjue looked down at the hand clutching his sleeve and sighed silently. “You don’t want the Divine Tree Vines anymore?”
“I do.” Seeing he wasn’t angry, Su Hansheng’s eyes curved into crescents. “But we really don’t have the money. I’ll have to wait until my Fourth Senior Brother gets back.”
Chongjue asked patiently, “Didn’t you ask anyone else?”
Like your uncle, perhaps?
Su Hansheng thought about it. “I asked everyone I could. Thirty thousand spirit stones isn’t a small amount.”
Chongjue: “……”
Seeing his hints go nowhere, Chongjue lightly fingered a talisman-carved prayer bead at his wrist and guided Su Hansheng’s hand to touch it.
Caught off guard, Su Hansheng found his finger pressed to the bead.
With a slight shift of intention, he realized it was a storage artifact.
Buddhist chants echoed softly. Su Hansheng’s eyes fluttered closed as he was drawn inside—and suddenly, mountains upon mountains of spirit stone mines burst into view.
Su Hansheng: “……”
Su Hansheng’s eyes went wide as he stared at Chongjue.
Weren’t Buddhist cultivators supposed to be detached from worldly concerns? In novels, enlightened monks traveled the world with only a begging bowl, enduring hardship for years before attaining Buddhahood.
How did the World-Honored One of Mount Sumeru have piles of spirit stone mines?!
Chongjue still held Su Hansheng’s wrist, eyes lowered to meet the shock in the youth’s gaze.
He seemed to relish this kind of wholehearted attention—attention that belonged to him alone.
Only at moments like this did the emptiness in Chongjue’s heart, shattered by endless fields of phoenix flowers, feel filled by a single fleeting look. The murderous rage within him was instantly soothed.
The phoenix vines Su Hansheng had used to end his life in the past had silently transformed into chains around the beast’s throat.
After his initial shock, Su Hansheng’s amber eyes suddenly sparkled like fireworks. He cheered, stood on tiptoe, and threw his arms around Chongjue’s neck.
“Uncle—Brother Wen is truly loyal and generous, spending a fortune for me!”
Chongjue smiled softly, reaching out to embrace Su Hansheng—but the youth had already pushed away cheerfully, squeezing through the crowd.
“Wait, I want to buy the Divine Tree Vines…! Proprietor, hey!”
Chongjue’s smile froze.
Su Hansheng, being short, had to jump several times before reaching the proprietor, saying urgently, “Have you sold off the Divine Tree Vines yet? I have money now… cough, I mean, my moody friend wants them again.”
Chongjue’s gaze cut through the crowd to the back of Su Hansheng’s head. The hand that had been about to embrace slowly lowered—though his desire hadn’t been satisfied, he found himself smiling for some inexplicable reason.
When Su Hansheng asked Xu Nanxian for spirit stones, he’d used the word “borrow.”
But with Chongjue’s spirit stone mines, he hadn’t said a single polite word—just took them with familiar intimacy, declaring “I have money now.”
Su Hansheng hadn’t noticed anything odd at all. He just looked hopefully at the proprietor.
The proprietor looked troubled. “Young Daoist, please don’t be upset—the market manager just sent word that the Divine Tree Vines aren’t for sale. She wants me to deliver them to her immediately.”
Su Hansheng looked confused. “Huh? But…”
But he really did have money now.
The proprietor sighed and pushed the spirit stones Su Hansheng had given him earlier back into his hands. “Please don’t take offense, Young Daoist. How about this—you may choose any artifact in the Ink Workshop worth up to a thousand spirit stones, as an apology.”
Su Hansheng drooped, dejected. With no way to force a purchase, he could only look around for Wu Baili.
Wu Baili had long since given up hope on the Divine Tree Vines. He was running his hand over a longbow carved with talismanic script, brow furrowed as if uncertain whether he liked it.
Seeing Su Hansheng approach, he raised an eyebrow. “Well? Did you return it?”
Su Hansheng nodded, mustered his spirits, helped Wu Baili buy an ordinary bow, then listlessly returned to Chongjue’s side.
Chongjue seemed to be making idle conversation with Qifu Zhao, but when Su Hansheng approached, his voice suddenly warmed.
“What’s wrong?”
Su Hansheng shook his head. “They won’t sell them anymore.”
Chongjue’s brow furrowed slightly.
“It’s fine.” Su Hansheng looked up with a forced smile. “At least it saved Brother Wen thirty thousand spirit stones—if Big Senior Brother found out I was this much of a spendthrift, he’d definitely string me up and beat me. This way I’ve dodged a thrashing.”
Chongjue brushed a stray lock of hair behind Su Hansheng’s ear and said softly, “That won’t happen.”
No one would lay a finger on Su Hansheng under his watch.
After all that commotion, the group returned dejected.
On the spirit boat, Su Hansheng received a message from Ying Jianhua telling him to come to Falling Parasol Lodge.
Upon returning to Wendao Academy, Chongjue headed back to the shrine on the back hill first. Su Hansheng was about to bid farewell to the other three when Qifu Zhao suddenly called out to him.
“Young Master.”
Su Hansheng stopped and looked at him.
Qifu Zhao said quietly, “That Wen Jingyu…”
Su Hansheng looked puzzled. “What about Brother Wen?”
Qifu Zhao hesitated, struggling for a long moment before his unease got the better of him. He said softly, “He seems to have… ulterior motives toward you, Young Master.”
After exchanging pleasantries with him at the Ink Workshop, Qifu Zhao felt that man seemed different from the one he’d met at the Wendao Festival.
Su Hansheng froze, looking shocked. “Ulterior motives? You mean Wen Jingyu?”
Qifu Zhao nodded. “Yes.”
Su Hansheng pressed, “The same Wen Jingyu who just went to the Ink Workshop with us?”
“…Uh, yes.”
Su Hansheng immediately burst out laughing, tears in his eyes. “That’s impossible. You must be seeing things.”
Chongjue didn’t understand romance at all, let alone with the generational gap between them.
Though Su Hansheng didn’t know what Chongjue had experienced in Infinite Hell to become that deranged version of himself, the current World-Honored One of Mount Sumeru was an untouchable flower on a high peak—touching him once would require kneeling and kowtowing to repent one’s impure thoughts.
After what happened last time, Su Hansheng had some awkward thoughts, but even in daydreams, he’d never fantasized that Chongjue would have ulterior motives toward a junior like him.
Seeing Su Hansheng so adamant, Qifu Zhao began to doubt himself. After a moment, he nodded and changed the subject.
“Today at Separate Years Market, I saw the person who was following you, Young Master.”
The topic shifted abruptly. Su Hansheng, still recovering from his laughter, hadn’t quite processed that faint sense of disappointment before this statement startled him.
“Someone really was following me?”
“Yes, a man in black robes.” Qifu Zhao said. “I couldn’t see his face, but judging by his cultivation, he must be at least Spirit Transformation stage or higher.”
Su Hansheng suddenly remembered Qifu Zhao’s earlier strange behavior and asked urgently, “Did he hurt you?”
Qifu Zhao paused, his eyes softening. He said gently, “No—Young Master just needs to take care of himself. If there’s no urgent business these next few days, it’s best not to leave the academy.”
Su Hansheng breathed a sigh of relief, nodding with furrowed brow. “Alright. Since Senior Brother hasn’t returned yet, I’ll stay at the shrine for now.”
Chongjue would certainly protect him.
The time Ying Jianhua had specified was approaching. Su Hansheng stuffed a few more bottles of medicine into Qifu Zhao’s hands before hurrying toward Falling Parasol Lodge.
But perhaps influenced by Qifu Zhao’s words, Su Hansheng vaguely sensed that someone really was following him through Wendao Academy.
The more he thought about it, the more uneasy he felt. He broke into a trot toward Falling Parasol Lodge.
Ying Jianhua had been waiting for some time.