Chapter 14: Master (Part 6)

Calling it a spirit boat, it should really be called a tower ship. The massive ten-zhang tall ship body slowly took off from the spirit ferry, mechanical wooden wings opening and closing, cutting through clouds, bearing the blue sky, rising with the wind, casting enormous shadows on the ground. Its stirring feathered wings dragged out a long white trail in the air.

This ship was called Kunpeng, owned by the Xiangli clan’s trading company in Xing Province. The ship body had eight floors total—upper three floors for immortal guests, lower five floors carrying mortals and commercial goods.

Su Tan booked an immortal ticket. One suite cost ten thousand spirit pearls, more than enough room for three people. Everything inside was complete—bedding used Huazhou brocade, cups and dishes in the small hall were all carved from green jade, gold-inlaid jade chopsticks, silver-traced wall paintings, lampshades stretched from cloud gauze held not candles but fist-sized luminous pearls. Once opened, pearl light filled the room—extremely luxurious.

However, Su Tan wasn’t swayed by external things at all. Upon entering the room, he began searching for a table, spreading out paper and brush, locking the door and pulling down windows, calling over two little followers to begin a very serious meeting.

At this time, two hours remained until nightfall.

“As you said, yesterday I fainted in the hot spring, then when I opened my eyes again, Qin Tan had returned.” Su Tan held a brush, spreading out rice paper, drawing a little figure with closed eyes and protruding tongue. “Doesn’t this mean this body contains two souls—me and Qin Tan? Once I lose consciousness, he comes out. Once he sleeps, I come out.”

He Tingtong nodded. “Probably so.”

Su Tan pressed his lips, falling into contemplation.

Tea and pastries sat on the table. Fu Fengyan sat quietly to one side, holding a piece of cake, eyes lowered, carefully nibbling bit by bit. On the other side, He Tingtong sat properly, quietly listening to him speak. At such a young age looking worried and mature beyond years, face still bearing fading bruises—truly… both well-behaved and pitiful.

Su Tan’s gaze swept over the injuries on He Tingtong’s body, then landed on Fu Fengyan. He tightened his grip on the brush, saying firmly: “This matter arose because of me. Can’t involve you two. I’ll communicate with Qin Tan.”

“I know he’s formidable, his cultivation profound, he’s a sword immortal and also Azure Cloud Trials’ chief examiner. You two children have no way to resist.” Su Tan took new paper, raising hand to spread it and begin writing a letter. “But it doesn’t matter. When facing adversity, learn to soften, learn to lie low. When we’re disadvantaged, whatever he tells you to do, just do it. Wants to watch me, then watch. It’s just eating, drinking, and daily life—can he watch flowers bloom from it?”

“But don’t listen to everything he says either. Don’t do bad things or things that harm yourselves. Self-preservation first. The rest, leave to me!”

He Tingtong tried to salvage things. “…Actually he might not be bad?”

Su Tan frowned, speaking earnestly: “You don’t understand.”

Xiao He didn’t know this was transmigration into a book, so didn’t understand how dangerous this person Qin Tan was.

Solitary personality, taciturn, eyes looking down on everyone, violent temper, no patience, no empathy, plus cultivating the killing path—an emotionally unstable master who’d lash out at the slightest provocation.

In the book, the protagonist was beaten by him for over ten years, beaten into a black-hearted coal ball. Not being beaten to death was because the protagonist was thick-skinned, durable, with protagonist halo. These two soft, weak, innocent good children before him—one hit and wouldn’t tears flow half a jar’s worth?

No, no, absolutely not.

The reliable adult faced a great enemy, frantically writing a three-thousand-character essay in the room attempting to negotiate with the other soul inside the body.

He Tingtong went to push open the window. Ethereal cloud qi surged in from outside, blocked by a layer of spirit-filtering gauze before the window. Strong winds transformed into leisurely breezes drifting in—cold and consciousness-clearing.

Fu Fengyan was still nibbling cake, eyes bright, eating happily. Seeing this, He Tingtong also curiously tasted a bite—jasmine-flavored cheese cake, acceptable, not sweet.

Should be ordinary tea snacks ordered in Tuomi Province. But looking at Fu Fengyan’s appearance, it was as if tasting some rare delicacy. Not leaving a single crumb, he ate two pieces, stared at the plate for a long while, then withdrew his hand, sitting beside quietly drinking tea.

Six pieces total on the plate. He ate his own two pieces, then didn’t touch the rest. He Tingtong estimated he probably wanted to leave them for them.

So He Tingtong pushed his piece to him. “You eat.”

Meeting Fu Fengyan’s puzzled eyes, he explained: “I’m not fond of sweets.”

Fu Fengyan’s lashes trembled. Looking at the bean-green soft cake on the lotus-leaf dish, then raising eyes to look at He Tingtong sitting cross-legged across from him already beginning to circulate spiritual power in cultivation, he held the cake in his palm, cherishing it as he bit. The sweet taste mixed with milk fragrance lingered between lips and teeth. He suddenly felt very happy.

When Su Tan writing furiously at the table looked up, he happened to see this warm scene like Kong Rong giving away pears. He couldn’t help sighing inwardly—such good children, so absolutely couldn’t let them suffer torment in this violent maniac Qin Tan’s hands.

Thus that night he tried to forcibly stay awake, grabbing a handful of melon seeds, drinking tea and chatting with He Tingtong.

Central Province’s Jiuyao Mountain Thirty-Three Heavenly Palaces’ Immortal Alliance united all large and small sects across the realm to jointly resist demon races. During war they backstabbed each other; in peace they were scattered sand.

The cultivation world’s five sects and seven surnames—five great immortal sects guarded the nine provinces, seven great clans had deep roots. On the surface a peaceful scene, secretly competing for spirit veins and talent, needle point to wheat awn, not only conflicts but also blood feuds.

Evil path Wuqi Road, a group of exiled madmen, mostly sect traitors or those practicing evil methods losing all conscience, gathering together to kill and burn. Rats in gutters—Immortal Alliance’s wanted list was almost equivalent to Wuqi Road leaders’ roster.

Then there was where they were heading—Yunzhou Azure Cloud Academy, established not long ago, a quiet, peaceful place for teaching and educating.

Of course, only currently so.

After all, He Tingtong knew that in this batch of students entering in spring of Linde year nine, dragon-proud heavenly system cheats, mentally ill brain-damaged gathered in one hall. That this world could restart eighteen times—this group deserved much credit.

Truly a generation destroying heaven and extinguishing earth.

Unlike He Tingtong’s growing fury, Su Tan had already been confused by the annals of nine provinces and what Fu Lu Lin Zhang relationships. He sighed: “City folks are really complicated. Xiao He, where did you learn so much information?”

“Jingyu Tower.” He Tingtong pointed at the gazette on the room’s bookshelf. “Within the nine provinces, whatever gossip or anecdotes are collected by Jingyu Tower’s scouts, made into gazettes, compiled and sold.”

Su Tan gasped, eyes shining with interest: “We have paparazzi in the immortal sects?”

Spreading the gazette, they huddled together reading immortal gossip for a long while until midnight. Su Tan’s head thunked down, melon seeds in his lap spilling everywhere. After a moment, a powerful hand propped the table. The cold-expressioned youth raised his head, surveying the surroundings. His gaze fell on the gazette spread before him—half a page in large characters was Hehuan Sect praising Qin Tan as divinely handsome, unparalleled in the world, wanting to sleep with him.

In other words, a love letter.

Qin Tan: “…”

He looked up glaring at He Tingtong across from him. The other calmly averted his gaze, two hands sweeping to pull the gazette from the table, then handed over Su Tan’s letter to divert attention. “Immortal Lord, the other you wants to talk with you.”

Qin Tan took the letter, fingers spreading it. Dense small script, missing arms and broken legs. He frowned reading this letter through, only feeling it was all a bunch of seemingly reasonable useless nonsense. Simply taking advantage of him while acting good—food, clothing, expenses all spent his money, even the body was his. He hadn’t even complained yet—what qualifications to negotiate conditions with him?

Telling him not to move, he’d deliberately move. He’d train these two brats—what could be done to him?

Turning his head, he looked at Fu Fengyan cracking melon seeds, brows almost twisted into knots. “You, follow me to the deck. I want to see your spiritual roots.”

Fu Fengyan put down melon seeds, expression calm. “No need for the deck. Here is fine to test me.”

Qin Tan raised an eyebrow: “You’re ready?”

Fu Fengyan nodded. The next second, the tall youth suddenly reached out, striking with lightning speed. Only his finger had just touched the youth’s shoulder when it was like hitting a ball of cotton. The person sitting at the round table cracking seeds floated lightly and flew out, directly crashing from the small hall onto the bed with a muffled thud. The youth who’d just been confidently telling him to strike lay straight.

Qin Tan: “…”

He Tingtong cried out in alarm, quickly rushing over to hold and shake the person. Fu Fengyan seemed boneless, swaying back and forth in his embrace.

He Tingtong quickly transmitted: “Bro, don’t act too weak. You look like you’ve been beaten to death. Move a bit, quickly take a breath.”

Then Qin Tan saw the straightened youth slowly curl into a ball again, covering face, burying in He Tingtong’s embrace, sobbing pitifully, extremely sorrowful.

Qin Tan: “…”

He looked at his own hand, then at those two youths depending on each other for survival. Veins popped on his forehead.

Qin Tan threatened: “Cry again, and I’ll throw you off this thing.”

So the crying stopped. Two youths in the corner trembled. He suddenly felt bored, picked up the letter on the table to look again, clicked his tongue, pulled out paper, and began writing a reply.

…

The next morning, Su Tan woke.

Opening eyes to see two lines of large characters placed beside the bed, he was so angry he sucked in a cold breath.

Leaping up, writing furiously, another three thousand characters.

…

Thus, Su Tan and Qin Tan faced off. Through letters, the two attacked each other from body to soul to conduct. Su Tan couldn’t out-argue him. In exasperation, he even shaved Qin Tan’s leg hair.

If not for only having one body, the two would probably have come to blows already.

Su Tan had important matters to handle, so his storybooks fell into Fu Fengyan’s hands.

As for He Tingtong, he began cultivating day and night, attempting to break through to the third realm before reaching Central Province.

The spirit boat traveled day after day in mid-air. Dance stages and pavilions—outside the towers immortals lay drunk, dancing girls whirled, silk and bamboo music endless.

Inside a certain small room in the tower, Su Tan wrote “Heaven rewards diligence” above and “Amitabha” below, beating a wooden fish saying he’d switch to Buddhist cultivation. If that didn’t work, he’d transfer to cultivate Hehuan Sect. Qin Tan overnight added eight layers of prohibitions to the room door, and used immortal-binding rope to tie his own hands and feet, locking himself in the room…

The two mutually tormented each other until the end of the month when they crashed into a boundless white fog. The entire ship deviated from its course, losing all trace.