Chapter 59: Azure Cloud (37)

He Tingtong carried Zhang Duixue on his shoulder and ran wildly. The youth on his shoulder struggled desperately, tears streaming down his face as he sobbed, “My husband doesn’t love me! How could he not love me! Husband, save me! You thief, let me go…”

“What are you crying for? Your husband doesn’t want you anymore. Come with me to save the world!” Zhang Duixue was quite long draped over his shoulder, a bit heavy. Most importantly, he was strong. When struggling, he waved his arms and legs wildly. Although he was probably immersed in the melodramatic plot and forgot he was a sword cultivator, his slapping palms still generated wind. He Tingtong could barely handle it, panting heavily, sweat pouring down his forehead, feeling like vomiting blood from the pounding.

But even more ridiculous were Zhang Duixue’s eyes. Perhaps the script here had some mysterious energy boost, but tears gushed out like flowing water, sprinkling on the ground like raindrops. He Tingtong felt like he was carrying a sprinkler, watering the base of the wall all the way. Behind them, Xie Xuanxiao was lifting his robes and chasing madly. Seeing him getting closer and closer, He Tingtong had a flash of inspiration and shouted at the grieving Zhang Duixue, “Brother Zhang, what stage is your sword intent at now?”

Zhang Duixue’s crying choked.

He Tingtong carried him over the wall and added, “Brother Zhang, where is your sword?”

Zhang Duixue looked left and right, his hands empty. Anxiety suddenly struck.

“The sword intent the Guili Sword Master gave you three days ago, have you comprehended it thoroughly?”

Zhang Duixue instantly calmed down. “Tsk, not yet.”

He coughed twice, staring with tear-filled eyes at the constantly changing scenes around him. Belatedly realizing what happened, he silently covered his face, his ears turning red. “Where is this place? Did we encounter an enemy attack?”

After getting away from that mansion, Zhang Duixue became more awake. Recalling his tug-of-war with Xie Xuanxiao just now, he tugged at his messy hair, extremely annoyed. “What is going on? Was I possessed?”

“It should be that everyone is possessed.” He Tingtong rubbed his aching shoulder and looked around. “We probably fell into a Spirit Wandering Mirror. I don’t know if the masters had a sudden whim to start a surprise test on the whole academy.”

“What do we do now?” Zhang Duixue wiped the tears from his face. He rolled up his sleeves and wiped haphazardly, squatting on the side and looking around. “Dispel the spirit?”

“Might not be that easy.” He Tingtong looked at the chaotic scenes of love and hate around him, recalling a series of discordant memories from the past. He couldn’t help rubbing his forehead. “We are all scattered. The situation is unclear now. Let’s find A-Fu and Little Yue first.”

Zhang Duixue nodded, then frowned again. He pointed at the crowds acting crazy all over the wild fields and hesitated, “Everyone is falling in love right now. How do we find them?”

He Tingtong rolled up his sleeves, cracking his knuckles with a cold sneer. “They have to wake up eventually. What love to talk about in such good times? Brother Zhang, let’s join hands and dismantle them one by one!”

Looking at He Tingtong’s expression, Zhang Duixue felt for some reason that his good brother seemed to carry soaring resentment.

He shivered inexplicably. “Okay, but how do we dismantle them?”

He Tingtong strode forward. “Follow me, learn from me.”

Zhang Duixue had always thought his good friend was steady, patient, considerate, gentle and cultivated, a jade tree in the wind—a good student in the eyes of teachers, a good role model in the eyes of classmates, a rare good person.

Until he saw He Tingtong slap a senior brother deep in love trouble, sending him flying. Then, with a smooth slide to kneel, he hugged the thigh of another amorous senior brother, shouting “Dad” loudly while the guy was flirting. While the “little couple” fell into an angry quarrel, he had already sprinted to another courtyard, lit a string of firecrackers, and threw them into the quilt of the sickly “black moonlight” lying half-dead on the bed. The bitter little lovebirds, who were taking heart blood to save someone, stared dumbfounded as the originally dying “black moonlight” jumped up and down with their butt on fire amidst the crackling firecrackers.

The villain grabbed the “red rose” and “white moonlight,” laughing wickedly, demanding the male lead choose one. He Tingtong kicked the male lead flying, then grabbed the whip he snatched. Amidst the screams of the “red rose” and “white moonlight,” he tied the villain and the male lead together. In their struggle, they unfortunately kissed each other…

Zhang Duixue looked at He Tingtong, who had already wreaked havoc through the scenes, shocked beyond belief. “It can be done like this?”

At his feet, the “male lead” and “villain” had already woken up. They were two sword cultivator senior brothers. Their relationship wasn’t very good, and now they were turning their heads to vomit wildly. Wails of grief filled the Spirit Wandering Mirror, along with cursing.

Zhang Duixue looked at the “devastated” road ahead and stopped speaking. But thinking of Fu Fengyan and Yue Qianxun still waiting for him to save them—his little buddies trapped in this rolling, terrifying plot, who knew if they were facing eye-gouging or kidney-harvesting—his determination to destroy the plot became firm.

He immediately drew his long sword and followed He Tingtong. “I’ll help you!”

“What kind of plots are these anyway? Dismantle!”

He Tingtong used slaps with one hand and set fires with the other, using whatever was available. Like a beast released from its cage, he killed his way from tragic dramas to crematoriums, grabbing those fake mandarin ducks and hammering them fiercely. With Zhang Duixue’s help, it was like adding wings to a tiger. The Spirit Wandering Mirror instantly turned into a chaotic pot of porridge.

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A drizzling rain fell from the sky, the sound of rain seeming ceaseless in the ears. Xiangli Xuan was dressed in ragged clothes, looking utterly wretched. He carried a bloody human figure on his back, trekking over mountains and rivers.

There was no sign of human habitation in the wilderness. Only the light body on his back, pressed tightly against his chest, had a heartbeat—thump, thump, thump—slow but burning.

“Put me… down.” The bloody fingers twitched weakly, then drooped feebly. “Young Master, carrying me… you can’t escape.”

Xiangli Xuan didn’t speak, just carried the person and walked forward blindly. Ahead was a narrow road without light, misty and rainy, filled with water vapor.

One was a young master of an aristocratic family, the other a small attendant. The aristocratic family was destroyed, the clan wiped out. Under the protection of many, the young master luckily escaped. The only person close to him left alive was this small attendant.

Two teenagers, penniless, depending on each other for survival. The young master was heavily injured, and the small attendant didn’t have much talent. Having followed the young master since childhood, he had picked up a tune or two on the qin by ear. With no other choice, he sought a job as a musician in a brothel.

The young master’s whole family was destroyed; he was living on the streets, his heart like dead ash. The small attendant earned money and spent it all on the young master. But seeing the other’s eyes dimming day by day, thinking of the medicine poured in like flowing water and the profligate sons in the brothel getting handsy with him, he endured and endured. Finally, he grabbed the young master’s collar and mocked him with bitter sarcasm.

“A fallen phoenix is worse than a chicken. You ate so much of my medicine; you have to pay it back a hundred, a thousand times tomorrow!”

“If you don’t pay it back, I’ll R then R you! Young Master, you’re useless at everything else, but this skin is still acceptable. I, this lowly one, have coveted it for a long time.”

“If you don’t move, then don’t blame me for making full use of you.”

The small attendant kissed the immobile young master on the straw mat. It was dry, lips cracked; the first peck was a bit prickly. The second time, the other’s dim eyes trembled slightly. He tasted the soft lip flesh, wrapped in a bloody sweetness. The third time, it was the sticky tip of the tongue behind shell-like teeth. A strong force struck, and he was pushed away.

The young master, sick to the point of dying on the bed, rarely gathered such strength. He covered his mouth, coughing wretchedly. “Chen Xiaoyu, you aren’t allowed to kiss me. We are…” We are what?

The next moment, he saw the qin thrown in front of him. “If you don’t want me to kiss you, go work.”

The young master was originally a music cultivator, famous for one song, hard to buy with a thousand gold.

His reputation grew gradually. He only played an old tune, but enemies came to the door.

The small attendant knocked the young master unconscious and took his place when the enemy requested a song. When the song ended, the enemy opened a folding fan and tapped the musician behind the curtain. “This young master hasn’t heard this song for a long time. But the tune was wrong in several places. Your skills aren’t refined.”

The small attendant fawned, “If the song has errors, Master Fu will look back.”

But the villain, Master Fu, didn’t have that much romantic sentiment. He closed the fan and shook his head. “Ugly sound. Considering your young age, don’t play songs anymore. Change jobs.”

Several people rushed up, held down the small attendant’s hands, and crushed his fingers. Having spoiled the noble’s mood, torture was inevitable. He was beaten until he stopped breathing, then wrapped in a straw mat and thrown out of the building.

When the young master found him, he saw only a limp pile of flesh. Touching him, the bones felt like wood in a sack, broken section by section.

He carried the person and fled for his life, not saying a word.

He heard there were immortal mountains farther away, and a master’s sect, and immortals. If he found an immortal, he could save him. The person on his back was so small, so light. The small attendant loved to smile. Although he always got the tune wrong, if he was serious, he could do very well.

He was only eighteen; he still had so much time. He couldn’t die here.

The breath behind him grew weaker. Xiangli Xuan became anxious, his heart burning like fire. He gritted his teeth and shouted, “Chen Xiaoyu, you are not allowed to die.”

“If you die… If you die…” A line of water fell down his cheek, indistinguishable between rain, sweat, or tears. Only his voice was genuinely hoarse. “If you die, what will I do?”

“Young Master… I’m a burden.” Under the messy hair, the teenager’s eyes were dim and lightless. “If I die, live well.”

“Live… well…” The teenager’s voice faded, gradually giving no more response. His body temperature turned cold; even his heartbeat became faint.

Xiangli Xuan trekked through the mud with the person on his back. He started to run wildly, panting violently, his lungs about to explode, his mouth full of the taste of rust. Unknown how long he ran, the exhausted teenager lay on the ground, clutching a clump of wild grass. He buried his head and began to weep silently.

Just as he was in despair, he suddenly heard a gentle, smiling voice from above his head. “Crying so sadly, did your wife die?”

Xiangli Xuan lifted his head blankly. He watched as two people suddenly popped out in the rain curtain. The two looked a bit wretched too; their robes were even splattered with specks of blood.

His eyes lit up, crawling toward the two with his last hope. “Save… save him…”

Amidst his overwhelming grief, he heard one of them say, “Can’t save, can’t save. Whether it’s Azure Cloud Academy or the Immortal Alliance, it seems incest isn’t allowed.”

“Xiangli Xuan, so you like your brother?”

As the voice fell, he turned his head, looking at that unconscious face beside him, suddenly struck as if by lightning.