Chapter 11: Master (Part 3)

Su Tan, twenty-one years old, college student. After staying up late reading a novel advertised as power fantasy but actually full of suffocating protagonist abuse, he furiously wrote a 1,500-word essay cursing the author’s brain-dead newspaper office. Then he transmigrated—from his warm little blanket to this godforsaken pond.

Dawn rose, thin mist gradually dispersing. Several egrets startled by the earlier commotion flapped their wings and flew away from the reeds.

Su Tan sat on the ground, soaking wet from head to toe. When cold wind blew, he began trembling and shaking. Heavy fabric wrapped around him like an ice shell. He tried to raise his hand to rub his face, but when his frozen hand lifted, he discovered he was tightly gripping a sword.

Silver-white, an extremely long sword.

The college student who’d never seen controlled weapons in his life sucked in a cold breath, quickly throwing the sword away, then looking up at the two youths staring at him in unison.

Two pale faces, actually quite handsome and easy on the eyes, only their expressions staring at him were very strange.

After realizing the surrounding situation was wrong, he quickly calmed down, sat properly with dignity and, toward these two youths who looked like NPCs, smiled kindly and spoke softly: “I have unfortunate news for you—I’ve probably lost my memory.”

“May I ask you two young brothers, what year is it? Where am I?”

One answered him: “Eighth year of Linde, today is New Year’s Eve, currently outside Dongxu Realm in Jubei Province at an unnamed marsh. Immortal Lord Qin Tan, what’s wrong with you? Have you been injured?”

Su Tan: “Qin Tan?”

He pointed at himself with his finger, laughing cheerfully: “You’re saying I’m called Qin Tan?” That killing-without-blinking, angering-people-to-death, harsh and taciturn, arrogant and conceited, reckless person who abused his own disciple—the protagonist—for a hundred chapters with a conscienceless dead face, Sword Master Qin Tan?

The two across nodded in unison.

“Hahaha!” Su Tan laughed dryly twice, falling back while looking at the sky. “Sorry, let me die first.”

He picked up the sword and placed it across his neck, closing his eyes to slit his throat. But after the sword qi barely cut a small wound, he covered the injury, unable to go through with it no matter what.

Then he tried drowning himself, lifting his hem at the water’s edge, extending his foot like taking a bath to test the temperature. Touched water—too cold. Withdrew again.

…

First attempt vigorous, second weakens, third exhausts.

Su Tan beat the ground crying, frantically pulling up reeds. Wanting to die yet afraid of pain, anxiously spinning in circles.

Watching the sword cultivator before him bustling about not knowing what he was busy with, Fu Fengyan secretly transmitted: “Is it possession?”

He Tingtong considered: “More or less.”

Only unlike the cultivation world’s common kill-and-possess, what Qin Tan currently encountered was very special. That soul was forcibly entered into his body.

A person from another world named Su Tan, brought here by some unknown dao principle, needed to complete many tasks, save a person, obtain fixed points, before he could return to his original world.

In previous lives, after climbing to a certain position in the Immortal Alliance, He Tingtong became acquainted with him. Later, they became good friends. These matters were all secretly revealed to him by the other through various means.

“I just read a novel out of boredom. What heinous crime did I commit? Why must I suffer like this!” The world’s number one aloof sword cultivator wept while holding his head after getting drunk.

Su Tan didn’t know sword arts, didn’t dare kill, feared pain and cold, his nature was lazy. His greatest wish in life was to finish tasks quickly and return to his hometown, attend school, then play the games he hadn’t finished.

So he poured his heart out, acting like both father and mother being good to his disciple, often leaving himself bloody and half-dead. Unfortunately, tasks always failed. In all the times He Tingtong knew of, Su Tan never once succeeded in returning home—either killed by his blackened disciple, or forcibly confined to a small dark room, brought back to become the Demon Lord’s forbidden delicacy suffering all humiliation before dying.

He always watched the youth gradually change from vivid and bright to a lifeless lump of flesh. He’d tried to stop it but ultimately failed. He didn’t know Su Tan’s task content, only vaguely sensing his friend’s body was like tied with countless threads, like a puppet on strings, making him walk only one predetermined path.

Walking toward that collapsed, dead ending.

Fu Fengyan: “He seems to want to die badly. Should we fulfill his wish?”

“Since he’s here, accept it.” He Tingtong turned away, expressionless as he opened his small notebook, studying seriously for a long while before closing it and breathing a long sigh. “He’s already here. Killing him now won’t necessarily let him return, Qin Tan won’t necessarily come back either, but the plot still has to progress. It’ll be troublesome.”

Fu Fengyan puzzled: “Then what will you do?”

“Plan B,” He Tingtong straightened his robes, solemnly saying: “Get close, build rapport, find backing, insert myself sideways!”

“Set points early, dismantle them!”

Then Fu Fengyan watched He Tingtong stride to “Qin Tan’s” side, facing that youth trying to strangle himself with his belt, softly speaking, uttering a strange code phrase: “Odd changes, even stays the same.”

“Qin Tan” suddenly trembled all over, naturally responding: “Sign depends on quadrant?”

His hand strangling his neck froze. Covered in ice shards, looking at He Tingtong before him, his whole body written with disbelief. Then he opened his mouth singing: “The boundless horizon is my love…”

He Tingtong picked up: “At the foot of rolling green mountains flowers bloom bright…”

“Qin Tan” released his belt, grasping He Tingtong’s forearm, tears brimming: “Prosperity, democracy, civilization, harmony!”

He Tingtong’s eyes reddened, tears welling in lashes, spinning in circles with him: “Freedom, equality, justice, rule of law!”

Then the two excitedly embraced, weeping while holding heads.

“Fellow townsman!! Is that a fellow townsman?!” The youth’s loud voice rang out. He looked toward Fu Fengyan squatting to the side, pinching his small notebook, seriously taking notes, eyes shining: “Is he too? Could this be the legendary… group transmigration?!”

Fu Fengyan seriously studying the codes: “?”

He Tingtong smiled reservedly: “No, he’s not. He’s my good friend. You’re soul-transmigrated, I’m body-transmigrated. I’ve been here several days.”

“Qin Tan” with brimming tears again embraced He Tingtong. His build was very tall, bending at the waist to wipe tears tremblingly on He Tingtong’s shoulder: “This is wonderful! Having companions feels so good. I thought only this unlucky bastard me, all alone here, not knowing what to do to return home…”

He Tingtong patted his back, saying softly: “We’ll figure it out together… you’ll definitely be able to go home.”

Sunlight broke through cloud layers, clear wind dispersed hazy white mist, reed flowers scattered, drifting far away.

Fu Fengyan transmitted secretly: “You know many things.”

He Tingtong smiled, replying: “Known him many years, know quite a few secrets, so I can fool him on such matters.”

“This person, in front of others acts quite convincingly, but privately he’s timid with lots to say. Likes singing while bathing and teaches me to sing. Afraid of ghosts—when we trained together in secret realms, every time encountering evil spirits he’d shout ‘prosperity, civilization, democracy, harmony.’ Don’t know what it means, probably his catchphrase. Hearing it often, I memorized it.”

Fu Fengyan felt somewhat envious: “Your relationship with him is very good.”

“Somewhat an old friend.” He Tingtong lowered his eyes. “His heart is too soft. This world doesn’t suit him.”

However, fortunately, his heart was soft, so he could quickly latch onto this golden thigh.

---

“My name is Su Tan, Tan as in night-blooming cereus, twenty-one years old.” The youth wiped away tears clean, finally mustering his spirits. Looking at He Tingtong who was quite a bit shorter than him, he smiled embarrassedly: “What are your names?”

“I’m He Tingtong, he’s Fu Fengyan. I’m sixteen, he’s seventeen.”

Su Tan was shocked: “You, high school student?!”

He Tingtong only smiled without speaking.

Su Tan looked at the two tender youths before him, a whole head shorter than him, yet felt it made sense. Instantly the responsibility of being an adult weighed heavily on his shoulders. He pressed He Tingtong’s shoulder, speaking seriously: “Don’t worry, I’m very reliable. I’ll definitely cover for you guys!”

Waiting for exactly this sentence, He Tingtong breathed a sigh of relief inside, saying moved: “This is truly wonderful!”

Cold wind blew, all three shivered in unison, only then remembering to leave the reed marsh.

Fu Fengyan beside them formed hand seals, silently drying their clothes. Walking on the dry road, Su Tan looked at this completely unfamiliar place, eyes blank, heart excited: “So now? Where should we go?”

“Central Province.” He Tingtong looked toward the horizon, gaze slowly falling, landing on Su Tan. He suddenly smiled at the youth, well-behaved and harmless: “Ah Fu and I are going to participate in the Azure Cloud Trials. Brother Tan, you need to return to your sect. We’re on the same route.”

“Then let’s go together!” Su Tan was elated.

“Central Province is very far from Jubei Province. Walking on foot, ten years wouldn’t get us there.” He Tingtong spoke softly: “We need to fly by sword, go to the nearest station to board a spirit boat, fly in the sky for two months to arrive.”

“Two months?” Su Tan gaped, but thinking of sword flying began rubbing hands eagerly, eyes full of fervor for novel things: “Sword flying? How to fly?”

He Tingtong smiled: “I’ll teach you.”

On the last day of the eighth year of Linde, after patient instruction from He Tingtong, the highly cultivated Sword Sect chief disciple finally managed to activate his natal spirit sword by noon hour, shakily flying up, carrying two youths behind him.

He Tingtong directed: “Fly south.”

Su Tan sweating profusely: “Which way is south?”

He Tingtong: “…”

He pointed a direction. Su Tan formed seals, the spirit sword “whooshed” out, going up and down, tilting and twisting. When they were about to vomit from the jolting, he finally grasped the technique and headed south.

Ten thousand acres of reeds bowed low, startled birds took flight. In mid-air came Su Tan’s excited voice: “Sword flying is actually easier than Driver’s Ed Stage Three!”

He Tingtong stood on the sword, face pale, looking at the verdant mountains ahead, reminding: “Turn! Turn!”

Reliable youth Su Tan full of confidence: “Watch bro drift!”

The snow-white spirit sword made an enormous turn in the air. Amid screaming, it plunged headfirst into the forest, crashing with loud crashes before embarrassedly pulling up high. The three were tattered and worn, crowned with dead branches and withered leaves, rising and falling on the sword. Finally, crossing the mountains, they entered Tuomi Province territory.

They beheld pavilions and towers, a river of misty grass.