Chapter 133: Who Is the Master

“Two Martial Uncles, why are you here?”

Xi Teng immediately noticed the two men entering and quickly rose to his feet to greet them with a respectful bow. “Greetings, Martial Uncles.” When he saw Bai Yu following behind, his expression brightened even more. Laughing heartily, he patted Bai Yu’s shoulder and said, “Junior Brother Bai, you’re here too! I told you, the place you arranged is amazing—thick yin energy, simple and cozy. Honestly, it’s more comfortable than the Netherworld!”

He grinned from ear to ear, completely unaware that he was being used as a living refrigerator, cheerfully expressing his gratitude again and again.

Wen Qing: “…”

Yuan Jiang: “…”

Both suddenly felt extremely thankful that this one wasn’t their disciple.

Just as Xi Teng was about to say something more, Han Shu also awoke from meditation. After greeting Bai Yu, he looked blankly at the two unfamiliar figures. “Junior Brother Xi, you just called them Martial Uncles… could it be that I…”

“That’s right.” Xi Teng nodded vigorously. Clearly, the two “preservation ghosts” had already recognized each other and discussed their sect relations.

Han Shu’s face lit up with joy. He floated forward, clasped his hands respectfully, and bowed deeply to Yuan Jiang—whose cultivation was obviously higher. “Disciple greets Master!” Then he turned to Wen Qing. “Greetings, Martial Uncle.”

Yuan Jiang: “…”

Wen Qing: “…”

Wen Qing’s face instantly darkened. Why did it feel like this disciple had not only lost his memory but also his mind?!

“Senior Brother Han, you’ve got it wrong!” Xi Teng immediately stepped in to correct him enthusiastically, pointing at Wen Qing. “This one is your Master. That’s your Martial Uncle Yuan!”

“Ah?” Han Shu blinked in confusion, blurting out instinctively, “Didn’t you say your Master ascended early and still looks like a young man? Shouldn’t mine be the same? Why does my Master look… older than my Martial Uncle?”

“…”

The sound of a metaphorical knife sliding into flesh echoed through the room.

The atmosphere turned awkwardly silent. Yet that certain “husky” just kept talking, completely unaware of the carnage. “No, Senior Brother, that’s not fair to say. Sure, Martial Uncle Wen’s cultivation isn’t as strong as Martial Uncle Yuan’s—or as strong as my Master’s either—and yes, he ascended later, is older, and looks older, but he’s still very capable!”

Bai Yu: “……” swish swish swish—those were the sounds of multiple knives being plunged in succession.

Han Shu: “……” Junior Brother, how am I supposed to respond to that?

Wen Qing: “……” Would it be too late to expel this disciple right now?

Wen Qing’s face grew even darker, feeling a surge of blood rising to his throat. Luckily, Yuan Jiang quickly cut in to defuse the situation. “Ahem, Nephew Han,” he said, “I heard from your Junior Sister that you were wounded so badly only a remnant soul remains, and you’ve lost all memory of the past—is that right?”

“Yes, Martial Uncle Yuan.” Fortunately, Han Shu still had some sense left. Realizing he’d misspoken earlier, he quickly corrected his tone.

“So, you have no idea who attacked you?” Yuan Jiang asked again.

Han Shu’s expression clouded. He shook his head. “I don’t know. These past days, thanks to Junior Sister Yun and Junior Brother Bai’s help in nurturing my soul, I’ve managed to recover part of my remnant, but I still remember nothing of my past.”

Yuan Jiang’s brows furrowed even deeper. After a long moment of thought, he turned to Wen Qing. “Enough, Junior Brother. Let’s focus on helping him gather his soul fragments. The longer we wait, the harder it will be to find the rest.”

Wen Qing’s lips twitched. As much as he wanted to throttle his idiotic disciple, Yuan Jiang was right. Han Shu had nearly dissipated entirely; the fact that even a fragment remained was already a miracle. If they delayed much longer, it wouldn’t matter how much they nurtured it—he’d never regain a complete soul.

Thankfully, aside from the morally questionable pile of food in the middle, the cellar itself was actually an excellent place for soul restoration. Convenient for their spellwork, too. So the two immortals wasted no time, setting up the formation and beginning to chant, weaving their fingers in complex seals as they worked to gather and solidify Han Shu’s soul.

——————

Reuniting a remnant soul into a complete one was an extremely difficult task. Not only did it require immense spiritual power, but it also demanded that the spellcasters be people who had been deeply familiar with the soul in life—only then could they summon back the scattered fragments across heaven and earth.

That was why Yun Jiao hadn’t personally done it.

Wen Qing was Han Shu’s master and a powerful immortal, though still recovering from serious injuries. Because of that, he needed Yuan Jiang’s help to support him in restoring Han Shu’s soul.

The process took half a month. None of them left the cellar during that time. Even Xi Teng, as scatterbrained as he was, remained loyally by their side, acting as guard.

The old man, on the other hand, came down three times a day—but only to fetch ingredients for meals.

Meanwhile, Han Shu’s once translucent soul gradually became more solid, until it nearly resembled a normal spirit.

“Old man, when will the two Martial Uncles come out of the cellar?” Yun Jiao asked one day.

“Soon, soon,” the old man replied, sorting through a pile of midterm exam papers as he spoke. “Last time I checked, Han Shu’s soul had stabilized quite well. I’d say three more days, tops.”

“Three days…” Yun Jiao glanced at the letter in her hand and sighed softly. “If that’s the case, I’d guess it’ll take ten days before they’re actually out.”

“Why ten?” the old man blinked. “That doesn’t sound right. His soul’s practically complete already. Could it be that the final stage gets harder?”

“Not exactly,” Yun Jiao said casually. “Han Shu’s body—the Three Yin Body—was carried back by Xi Teng, remember? Even if his soul solidifies in three days, merging it back with that ghostly body will take at least seven more.”

“Ohh.” The old man nodded in understanding, then was about to ask something about the Netherworld when he suddenly noticed the book in her hands. His eyes widened. “Girl, why are you reading The Heart of the Mystic Art? And that’s the original copy—the one given by the Ancestor Master—not the commentary you wrote!”

Yun Jiao looked up and explained calmly, “Didn’t I tell you the Ancestor Master already planted a mystic meridian in me? I’ve been trying to cultivate these past few days, so I wanted to review the original to reinforce my understanding.”

“You’ve finally started cultivating!” The old man’s eyes lit up with excitement. He hurried over, puffing his chest proudly. “So? How is it? Any parts you don’t understand? Hit a bottleneck yet? Don’t worry—the Mystic Art is my specialty. Ask me anything!” He looked positively triumphant—as if, at long last, he’d found one area where he could stand ahead of his genius pupil.

“It’s not exactly a bottleneck,” Yun Jiao said thoughtfully, her tone turning serious. “It’s just… when I practice, it feels a little different from others. I’m not sure if my previous understanding was mistaken, so I wanted to read the original and make sure.”

The old man’s confidence swelled. Finally, he could act like a proper sect leader again. Straightening his back, he grinned so widely his eyes nearly disappeared. “Different, you say? No problem—I’ll teach you!”

(End of Chapter)