Slag Shou Cultivating Manual - Chapter 14

In truth, He Lang wasn’t deliberately cold toward Zhen Puyang, but the domineering, forceful, and controlling aura Zhen Puyang had shown earlier greatly displeased him.

 

Besides, his expectations for the two of them were fundamentally different.

 

He hoped Zhen Puyang would achieve great things, fulfill the requirement in the records to wield power over the world, and even become an enlightened ruler remembered throughout history.

 

As for Zhen Puren, he was merely an unforeseen variable in He Lang’s world. All He Lang needed to do was fulfill the emperor’s assignment and educate Zhen Puren into becoming an outstanding gentleman.

 

So, when Zhen Puyang won against Zhen Puren in that minor martial arts competition, He Lang felt no particular joy—it was, after all, as expected.

 

However, seeing the tension among the people near Zhen Puyang, He Lang decided he should go and soothe the situation.

 

The following matches in the martial arts trials were nothing special, so He Lang gently touched Zhen Puyang’s hair and said, “Let’s head back. It’s hot today, and I’ve prepared some chilled desserts for Your Highness.”

 

Zhen Puyang’s eyes lit up slightly, but he pouted and followed him in silence.

 

Once inside, Zhen Puyang suddenly stopped and called out softly to He Lang.

 

“Teacher, it hurts.”

 

He Lang looked at him in confusion, and Zhen Puyang boldly lifted his clothes to show him.

 

Sure enough, a bruise stood out starkly against his smooth, jade-like skin.

 

He Lang thought he should call a servant to apply medicine, but when he looked up, he saw Zhen Puyang’s expression—a mix of expectation and slight grievance. Understanding this, He Lang immediately picked up the ointment and gestured for Zhen Puyang to lie down at the bedside.

 

Zhen Puyang, satisfied, stretched out his limbs lazily like a contented dog, ignoring the bedhead and resting directly on He Lang’s lap.

 

“Does it really hurt that much?”

 

Seeing how loudly Zhen Puyang was crying out in pain, He Lang frowned and asked, his hands moving more gently.

 

Enjoying the touch, Zhen Puyang almost hummed in contentment, but being mistaken for pain, he quickly responded decisively, “Of course! That brat—he may look weak, but he hits hard. Whenever he got the chance, he threw a strong punch.”

 

He Lang smiled slightly. How could there be no counterattacks in a martial arts match?

 

“You weren’t holding back either, with your punches and kicks. It was quite nerve-wracking to watch.”

 

This comment displeased Zhen Puyang, who suddenly flipped over, anger flashing in his eyes.

 

“Teacher, are you feeling sorry for him?”

 

He Lang certainly didn’t dare admit that, shaking his head quickly. Only then did the little tyrant’s expression soften. Demanding compensation, he instructed He Lang to continue massaging the bruise on his back.

 

“Is it any better?”

 

Hearing He Lang’s gentle inquiry, Zhen Puyang continued to lounge on his lap, refusing to get up. He remained in a tired posture, half-closing his eyes as he said, “It still hurts. Keep going.”

 

Keep going? It had already been nearly half an hour of this. Seeing through Zhen Puyang’s excessive demands, He Lang casually remarked, “I recall that Ren’er didn’t hit you that hard—”

 

“Can’t you just indulge me a little? Why expose me?” Zhen Puyang pouted, no longer hiding his reluctance as he finally rose from He Lang’s lap.

 

“Do you think I don’t understand what you’re thinking, Your Highness?”

 

“Tch.” Zhen Puyang’s lips curled with a hint of sarcasm. He didn’t agree; after all, there were plenty of things he thought that He Lang likely didn’t know.

 

For instance, he disliked being addressed so formally. Why did He Lang speak so distantly, calling him “Your Highness” and referring to himself as “your servant,” when he didn’t talk like that with others?

 

He looked up and said, “Teacher calls the Twelfth Prince Ren’er.”

 

He Lang nodded, questioning with his eyes if there was something wrong with that.

 

Zhen Puyang looked somewhat frustrated, stamping his foot. “But you call me ‘Your Highness.’”

 

He Lang nodded in understanding. This was because Zhen Puyang had always referred to himself as “this prince,” even feeling himself superior. How could He Lang then call him by an affectionate nickname?

 

But now that Zhen Puyang had finally clarified their positions, He Lang relented, patting his head and gently saying, “Yang’er, stop fussing.”

 

“Mm, Yang’er won’t fuss.” Hearing this nickname, Zhen Puyang immediately broke into a proud smile, joyfully responding.

 

Even though he wanted to mock the childish nickname, it still pleased him greatly.

 

Overstepping boundaries was Zhen Puyang’s specialty. Now that he had gotten He Lang to compromise a little, he continued with a tone full of jealousy, “Teacher holds my younger brother’s hand when he writes.”

 

He Lang calmly explained, “Your Highness’s writing is beautiful; there’s no need for me to hold your hand.”

 

In exchange for this compliment, Zhen Puyang decided to let the matter drop. However, like wanting to air all his grievances and injustices, he continued, seeking an explanation.

 

“Now, Teacher gives him more books than me.”

 

That shameless younger brother of his hugged books every day, using it as an excuse to ask questions.

 

“He’s currently reading orthodox classics, each one heavy as gilded bricks. Do you want to read those too?” He Lang smiled helplessly.

 

Zhen Puyang turned his back in a huff, folding his arms. He knew he was often petty, and even though he didn’t like something, he didn’t want others to have it either.

 

Seeing his continued stubbornness, refusing to even glance at him, He Lang soothed him, saying, “You are special.”

 

After a long while, the proud prince finally turned slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he lightly nuzzled He Lang’s hand.

 

Half a month later, estimating that the injuries from the martial arts trials had mostly healed, the two youths resumed their scheming and rivalries, never stopping their petty tricks.

 

He Lang couldn’t be bothered with these matters. He spent his days teasing his pet rabbit, reading some books, and enjoying his leisure time, turning a blind eye to their antics.

 

Zhen Puren was relatively low-maintenance. Though he likely suffered much bullying from Zhen Puyang, he never mentioned it, only inviting He Lang to the study to review his essays.

 

Though still young, Zhen Puren was thoughtful and considerate.

 

During the noisy summer nights, he had thoughtfully prepared a screened-off area with pleasant incense for He Lang, making his reading experience very comfortable.

 

As He Lang focused on his reading, he heard faint rustling sounds outside.

 

But the lingering scent seemed to have a soporific effect, making He Lang yawn softly. He glanced outside the screen, noticing shadows moving. It might be the youths quarreling again, but he had no intention of intervening in trivial matters.

 

Outside the screen, Zhen Puren glanced subtly at the large screen on his left, then exchanged a narrowed look with Zhen Puyang before continuing their conversation.

 

“I wouldn’t dare, dear brother. I know my lowly status and inferior talents, which is why Teacher favors me so much and cares for me in every way. I’m truly grateful—”

 

He spoke slowly, each word seeming to boast that the Grand Tutor favored him more.

 

In the end, a faint malice appeared on Zhen Puren’s usually calm face. He suddenly said softly, “Elder brother, do you think no one knows you want to monopolize Teacher’s affections?”

 

Zhen Puyang’s pupils constricted, his eyes wide with disbelief.

 

His nature was domineering, and he carried the royal dignity and pride to the fullest, so he could not tolerate such words.

 

Especially when thoughts he hadn’t even recognized himself were directly exposed by someone else, it provoked his anger and embarrassment, causing him to lash out and knock Zhen Puren to the ground.

 

“Shut up, you base-born wretch! How dare someone as dirty as you approach Teacher?! You’re delusional!”

 

Zhen Puren, despite being scolded, remained calm. He stood up with a gentle demeanor, straightened his clothes, and concealed his expression. His elder brother’s reaction was exactly as he expected, making his scheme successful.

 

Indeed, his elder brother was impatient, unable to keep his composure. Just one sentence had revealed his ambitions, provoking him into tearing away his noble and reserved facade.

 

Seeing Zhen Puren’s silence and slight excitement from being berated, Zhen Puyang found it odd. At the same time, he noticed movement behind the screen and felt uneasy.

 

Such a commotion could not escape He Lang’s notice, and he couldn’t possibly ignore the real conflict between them.

 

He Lang emerged, his anger barely perceptible, and looked at the two before focusing solely on Zhen Puyang.

 

Zhen Puyang instinctively wanted to explain but found himself at a loss for words. He glanced at his seemingly innocent younger brother, who remained silent. Changing from his previous calm demeanor, Zhen Puyang bit his lip hard, his face pale and his body trembling slightly. He cautiously cast a pleading glance at He Lang.

 

Seeing the anger in He Lang’s eyes, Zhen Puyang quickly realized the trickery. Though he usually had a sharp tongue, now he could only open and close his mouth in front of He Lang, unable to utter a single word.

 

The cold and stern look from He Lang was too much for him to bear, leaving his mind blank. What could he even explain? Would his explanations be believed?

 

“It seems you have nothing to say.”

 

Seeing no explanation forthcoming, He Lang withdrew his gaze with a sigh, gripping his sleeve tightly in frustration. He turned away, unwilling to look at Zhen Puyang again, fearing that if he saw those astonished eyes, he might be unable to punish him.

 

“Ninth Prince is to reflect on his rudeness and face the wall in the outer court of the palace for two hours. No one is allowed to approach.”

 

Zhen Puyang had been favored to a position above everyone else, but as this tiger was tamed, the real power had been given to He Lang, who was entrusted with the authority to deal with him. This represented the greatest trust from the emperor. He Lang had never imagined such a day would come, but he felt the punishment was necessary.

 

Recently, His Highness had been unusually irritable, not only making things difficult for his younger brother but also displaying a growing hostility toward He Lang, creating an uncomfortable sense of restraint that should not exist between them.

 

Though the servants feared this prince, it was within the Grand Tutor’s rights to discipline him, and they could only cautiously ask him to leave.

 

Zhen Puyang remained silent, staring at He Lang’s back but seeing no sign of him turning around. He felt his strength draining from his very bones.

 

He glared coldly at Zhen Puren and cursed, “A sycophant!” Then, with a hint of frustration, unable to decide if it was grievance or anger, he flicked his sleeve and turned to leave.

 

Zhen Puyang could have gone to their father to complain, knowing that despite the insults to his younger brother, their father, who always favored him, wouldn’t truly punish him.

 

Yet he didn’t know why he felt so disheartened, standing against the outer wall for a full hour. He bitterly thought that it was because he feared Teacher’s true anger that he was so compliant.

 

But he couldn’t understand why that person was so indifferent to right and wrong, treating him this way for the sake of an outsider.

 

At the same time, he couldn’t understand why, despite his hatred earlier, he still obeyed him.

 

—

 

**Author’s Note:**

 

Cheer for Lang…