Slag Shou Cultivating Manual - Chapter 13

Although Zhen Puren claimed he only knew a few characters, this was clearly his modesty.

 

In a casual writing exercise, He Lang was pleasantly surprised to discover that despite his young age, Zhen Puren’s writing was quite good—rhythmic and naturally fluent.

 

Moreover, the sentiments expressed in Zhen Puren’s writing reflected a deep concern and compassion for the people’s livelihood, leaving the reader profoundly moved.

 

In contrast, Zhen Puyang’s writing was also impressive, filled with literary flair and abundant talent.

 

However, the meaning conveyed was much like his personality—somewhat unreasonable and domineering. He wrote that if foreign invaders dared to come, they should all be driven back, and their territory should be seized as well.

 

It was as if he were a tyrannical bandit leader. He Lang couldn’t help but smile wryly. If he truly became an emperor, how would he manage with such impulsiveness?

 

He called Zhen Puyang over and laid Zhen Puren’s essay on the table, asking him to read it and share his thoughts, hoping he might gain some insight from it.

 

Although these were two different approaches, and he saw no right or wrong in either, He Lang still hoped they could learn from and critique each other.

 

Unexpectedly, Zhen Puyang seemed to misunderstand his intention. He grabbed the paper off the desk, gave it a quick glance, and then dismissively tossed it aside, saying, “The kindness of a woman!”

 

Zhen Puren’s essay was crumpled in various places from his rough handling.

 

He Lang was startled and quickly retrieved the paper, carefully smoothing it out on the desk.

 

However, this cautious action only further angered Zhen Puyang.

 

Ever since the literary exam, Zhen Puyang had tasted the sweetness of success and found pleasure in studying.

 

He enjoyed the praise that came with his scholarly efforts and had devoted considerable time to his studies, firmly believing that his knowledge and writing skills far surpassed those of his illiterate younger brother.

 

“Does the teacher intend to say that his writing is better than mine?!” Zhen Puyang, always competitive, couldn’t help but feel infuriated by the situation.

 

He Lang patted him gently, his gaze calm, and spoke the truth: “Your writing is excellent, but it lacks the compassion that a ruler should have for his people.”

 

Zhen Puyang shot him a sidelong glance, “I believe a ruler should focus more on governance, not compassion.”

 

Alright, this child was stubborn as always. He Lang rubbed his temples.

 

“Teacher—”

 

A voice called from outside the door, and before they saw the person, they heard him. The door was pushed open, revealing Zhen Puren, who had come looking for He Lang.

 

In his arms, he carefully cradled a scroll, adorned with a delicate silk ribbon, as if it were a gift for someone.

 

It was him again… Zhen Puyang sneered, feeling agitated. Unwilling to witness the scene of the two interacting, he slammed the door and left.

 

“You two take your time talking!”

 

The two looked at each other but, knowing Zhen Puyang’s temper, tacitly chose not to take offense.

 

The essay written by Zhen Puren was still spread out on the desk, so Zhen Puren saw it at once.

 

At the same time, he keenly noticed the obvious creases on the paper, a flicker of disappointment passing through his eyes as he pondered.

 

He Lang, following his gaze, also felt embarrassed but didn’t want the two brothers to hold a grudge, so he explained that he had accidentally crumpled the paper.

 

Zhen Puren graciously shook his head, smiling in understanding. He indicated that he didn’t mind; after all, He Lang was his teacher, and if he felt the writing was poor, tearing it up would be justified. There was no need to explain.

 

He Lang nodded, at a loss for words, and simply patted this well-behaved child’s head.

 

Zhen Puren lowered his eyes, feeling the gentle touch of He Lang’s hand, and a warm feeling spread in his heart.

 

However, he clearly remembered that his Ninth Brother had just been there, and it was most likely him who had crumpled the paper.

 

Zhen Puyang’s tantrum today was relatively mild, but the days ahead would only cause He Lang more headaches.

 

Whenever Zhen Puren was reciting his lessons, Zhen Puyang would start flipping through books, deliberately making loud rustling noises.

 

If Zhen Puren hesitated for a moment or pondered over a word, Zhen Puyang would sneer, “I can recite it too.”

 

In any class they attended together, Zhen Puyang never listened, but with his sharp mind, he practically remembered everything at a glance. This made him even more dismissive, thinking, what’s the point of paying attention in class?

 

He Lang raised an eyebrow, “Then why don’t you show us, Your Highness?”

 

Zhen Puyang didn’t even bother to stand up. Leaning back on the soft cushion, he confidently recited, “The way of a ruler is to cherish stillness and retreat. Without handling affairs personally, he understands both clumsiness and skill. Without pondering, he knows both fortune and misfortune. Thus, he responds well without speaking and increases goodness without making demands. Once words have been answered, the contract is held; once actions have increased, the seal is wielded. Where seals and contracts align, rewards and punishments are born—”

 

“Your Highness is indeed clever.” Knowing Zhen Puyang loved to show off, He Lang let him finish the recitation and then praised him, though he couldn’t help but find it amusing. Despite Zhen Puyang’s efforts to maintain a dignified demeanor, he still acted like a competitive child in moments like this.

 

A single compliment wasn’t enough to satisfy Zhen Puyang. He narrowed his eyes, wondering if the teacher was merely placating him, treating him like a child who needed praise.

 

He noticed his own dissatisfaction, reflecting on his lack of composure, yet this only made him more eager to belittle his younger brother, hoping the teacher would see him as hopeless and stop paying attention to him.

 

Soon, an opportunity arose.

 

The princes were expected to be proficient in both literature and martial arts. While the literary exam had already been mentioned, there was also a martial arts exam.

 

However, the martial arts exam had an age limit, typically for princes over ten years old, and participation was voluntary.

 

Like any child eager to prove themselves, Zhen Puyang was desperate to show He Lang that he was the best.

 

So, upon learning of the upcoming martial arts exam, he immediately issued a challenge to Zhen Puren, his tone cold and laced with his usual mockery.

 

“Dare to compete with me?”

 

### He Lang looked at the two of them calmly, not worried at all. Ren’er had a gentle disposition and would never engage in Zhen Puyang’s nonsense.

 

But unexpectedly, the gentle and refined Zhen Puren glanced at He Lang and actually accepted the challenge.

 

This mutual agreement to spar made He Lang rub his temples in frustration; the prince was acting up again.

 

But fortunately, since everyone was mindful of preserving their brotherly bond, they usually refrained from going too far. Although the prince appeared reckless, there were many experts watching over the match, so he shouldn’t be able to strike too harshly.

 

However, even though Zhen Puyang might seem careless, he was indeed gifted in martial arts. Not to mention whether Zhen Puren could even defeat him…

 

Even if he could, would he really dare to win?

 

The entire palace coddled this little tyrant. Even if he didn’t personally retaliate, there would be no shortage of busybodies causing trouble. In short, winning wouldn’t bring any good outcome.

 

Zhen Puyang had been mischievous since childhood, never sticking to anything for long—his interest in studying included. Now, he read when he wanted to, but he was serious about martial arts.

 

On the other hand, Zhen Puren’s mother had died in childbirth, leaving him with a congenital weakness. Despite treatments and supplements, he remained less robust than most men.

 

Aside from their physical differences, their upbringing had also been vastly different. The outcome of the match seemed almost inevitable.

 

Less than a stick of incense’s time into the match, Zhen Puren was already in retreat, while Zhen Puyang’s attacks were fierce and aggressive, his moves swift and powerful.

 

Zhen Puren bore the brunt of the assault, rarely getting a chance to counter. Finally, a punch landed squarely on his chest, quickly determining the winner.

 

Amidst the enthusiastic cheers, Zhen Puyang, with his robes fluttering, gracefully leaped off the stage, pushing through the surrounding crowd, and landed directly in front of He Lang.

 

The breeze that followed him caused He Lang to stagger slightly, but he was quickly steadied by a strong arm.

 

He was momentarily dazed; the prince had grown into a young man, tall and strong, able to support him with just one hand.

 

Yet at this moment, Zhen Puyang wore a childish smile, leaning in close and boasting, without even using his usual honorifics.

 

“Teacher, I won.”

 

He Lang responded with a simple “Hmm,” offering little more in return.

 

Zhen Puyang’s victory was within his expectations, but he couldn’t quite understand why Zhen Puren had accepted the challenge in the first place. Why start a match that was certain to be lost?

 

He looked toward Zhen Puren, who was still lying on the ground. An attendant approached to help him up, but he declined.

 

Though standing up by himself would make him appear more wretched, Zhen Puren still slowly supported himself with his hands, gritting his teeth and pressing his knees to the ground, his spine refusing to bend even an inch—he truly had a strong will.

 

Following He Lang’s gaze, Zhen Puyang’s joy was suddenly dampened. In that instant, it felt like the string of reason in his mind was about to snap.

 

Why was he looking at that useless person again? What was so interesting about him? Why couldn’t he just look at me?!

 

Clearly, he was already so remarkable, admired and respected by everyone, yet He Lang seemed oblivious. Was he not good enough, unworthy of He Lang’s attention?

 

What did he have to do to be the best? Was his only wish to take that one position?

 

Zhen Puyang, filled with frustration and unable to vent it, clenched his fists and instinctively grabbed He Lang’s wrist.

 

But his grip was too strong, and a cracking sound came from He Lang’s wrist, nearly causing a fracture.

 

The pain made He Lang inhale sharply, his brows knitting together as he glared at Zhen Puyang with displeasure.

 

Zhen Puyang, as if waking from a dream, looked at his hand in surprise before quickly letting go.

 

“Teacher, I didn’t mean to…”

 

“Go back to your seat. The other princes haven’t finished competing yet.” He Lang interrupted him, trying to remain calm, but almost having his wrist broken wasn’t a pleasant experience, so his tone was far from friendly.

 

Just moments ago, the proud and confident Ninth Prince now returned to his seat with slumped shoulders and a sullen expression.

 

In the end, even when his much-disliked brother was beaten badly by their Fourth Brother, he couldn’t find any joy in it.

 

Having taken a few hits from Zhen Puren earlier, he wasn’t sure if there would be any bruises. When he returned, he would have to ask He Lang to check him carefully.

 

But when would He Lang come to comfort him and take him back?

 

**Author’s Note:**

 

The prince is extremely childish and tsundere…【smoking】