Slag Shou Cultivating Manual - Chapter 77

Chapter 77: The Uncertain Abode

Persuaded by his master to stay and rest in his small dwelling, Jiang Hanzheng’s back stiffened, his body rigid as he felt an intense inner struggle. It was as if a scale were tipping back and forth, making it difficult for him to decide. Although he wanted to stay, his rational mind quietly urged him to leave, reminding him that he shouldn’t disturb his master any longer.

His master had treated him so well; he felt completely satisfied. Yesterday’s events had been exceptional, and there should be no further transgressions.

With this in mind, he resolutely declined his master’s kind offer.

He Lang had already anticipated Jiang Hanzheng’s attitude and was not surprised at all. He didn’t intend to say much, simply replying, “There are restrictions on the mountain; without my permission, you cannot leave.”

This was indeed the main issue. Jiang Hanzheng’s face fell, realizing that he was still under his master’s control.

Now, even if he wanted to leave, he couldn’t; he had no choice but to stay here. He secretly reassured himself: today was only because his master was teaching him to cultivate, so it didn’t count as overstepping.

Sensing Jiang Hanzheng’s capitulation, He Lang smiled slightly, pleased that the defenses around the boy’s heart were gradually being broken down. His mood lightened, and even his usually cold expression softened. When his eyes crinkled slightly, a gentle glimmer appeared in them.

Jiang Hanzheng knew that his master genuinely cared for him and instinctively displayed a sense of dependence, allowing himself to draw a bit closer to He Lang, hoping that the man wouldn’t see through his thoughts.

Obedient children are always the most endearing. He Lang naturally ruffled Jiang Hanzheng’s hair and sighed, “Now that’s a good disciple.”

At just a little over ten years old, while other children enjoyed the care and support of their families, he had been left to wander the streets, enduring hardships and living a hand-to-mouth existence. He had been chased by dangerous high-level spirit beasts upon their first meeting; it would be a lie to say that He Lang didn’t feel heartache.

However, He Lang couldn’t help but wonder: if he had chosen not to intervene and instead let Bai Lingzhi rescue Jiang Hanzheng, would the boy have directed his gratitude and admiration toward her instead? Would he have still come to the Tianshan Sect and chosen He Lang as his master?

Lost in thought, He Lang’s expression shifted slightly. In the end, he had to praise Guatu, acknowledging that its idea had indeed provided him with a favorable situation at this moment.

Jiang Hanzheng was oblivious to He Lang’s musings, his entire focus on the warm hand resting atop his head. He didn’t dare look at He Lang, lowering his gaze to simply enjoy the warmth radiating from the palm above him. In that moment, he felt tingling sensations, his ears burning, and a faint blush spreading across his cheeks.

He Lang snapped back to reality and withdrew his hand, noticing that Jiang Hanzheng was sweating, his face flushed, and his lips pressed tightly together as if suppressing some emotion. He Lang thought he might be unwell from overexertion and asked with concern.

Jiang Hanzheng quickly shook his head, insisting he was fine, finally managing to utter softly, “Disciple… has never been greedy and does not desire so much.”

He Lang was slightly taken aback, pondering the meaning of his words when he suddenly saw the boy dart away like a rabbit.

Rubbing his forehead, he smiled helplessly, realizing that perhaps there was a generational gap between them. How could boys of this age be so sensitive, harboring unspoken concerns?

—

Jiang Hanzheng fled back to his room. Looking around again, he saw the books his master had prepared for him on the table, the teacup he had used, and several new outfits his master had ordered for him after criticizing his rough attire hanging in the cabinet. Each corner bore traces of He Lang, making it feel as if this room truly belonged to him.

Recalling his master’s various actions, it wasn’t hard to guess his intentions: He Lang wanted him to have a comfortable environment for cultivation, away from the outer disciples below the mountain, to prevent others from bullying him while he was still weak and unwilling to speak up.

Tears welled in his eyes as he felt his heart crumble. He knew he could never repay He Lang, and being somewhat dull-witted, the only thing he could do was to work tenfold harder in his cultivation. However, he hadn’t even grasped the essentials of cultivating qi, let alone advancing to the next stage of drawing it into his body.

Even though he always kept in mind his master’s teachings about the Five Elements and their mutual interactions, it was of no use. He was repeatedly forced to stop practicing, and after a month of this, his frustration grew. The initial enthusiasm he had felt was gradually worn down by self-doubt, questioning whether he was truly as foolish as people said— that having a waste spiritual root meant being a waste, regardless of how much he was favored, he would still accomplish nothing.

He thought of his senior brother, Master Wuding, who often taught disciples and might have unique insights and experiences regarding foundational cultivation.

Upon this realization, he decided not to hesitate any longer and immediately took Jiang Hanzheng to his senior brother’s cave dwelling.

“Master, where are you taking me?” Jiang Hanzheng asked anxiously, having not left the mountain for a long time.

“You’ve been unable to draw qi into your body for a long time, and I’m not particularly good at imparting experience, so I’m taking you to seek advice from Master Wuding,” He Lang replied.

He was capable of cultivating to a certain degree himself, but when it came to teaching, he felt inadequate. Moreover, his original self didn’t seem to excel at teaching either. The last disciple he had taken on had achieved some success primarily due to his innate talent and the affection showered upon him, rather than because of He Lang’s guidance.

In fact, Jiang Hanzheng had only been struggling with this for a little over a month; many ordinary cultivators took years to achieve qi drawing. Yet He Lang was eager and unwilling to see his disciple fall behind.

During this time, memories of his original self occasionally surfaced, and He Lang gradually understood Wuding’s personality, realizing that he was cheerful and somewhat rough around the edges, but ultimately gentle in nature—a reliable person— which was why he sought him out.

Master Wuding’s residence was not as tranquil as He Lang’s, being located not far from the sect. It was frequented by many disciples going about their business, and with the number of students Wuding had, the place was naturally bustling.

Crossing a lush expanse of grass and blooming flowers in front of him, he arrived at the unpredictable cave dwelling. As he took a step forward, the air before him subtly distorted, and a barrier shimmered, as if raindrops were falling on the surface of water, creating ripples.

He Lang knew that this was a restriction similar to a doorbell; as soon as someone approached, the owner would be immediately notified. He maintained his composure and continued to advance, but Jiang Hanzheng, having never seen much of the world, was already hesitant upon seeing the impressive courtyard outside, let alone when confronted with such an array.

He Lang, feeling helpless about his disciple’s timidity, gently grasped his wrist and guided him through the barrier at the entrance. They passed through smoothly, walking briskly, while Jiang Hanzheng blushed slightly, sticking close to him and hurriedly keeping up.

From a distance, they saw Wuding Zhenren lounging half-reclined on a soft chair. Despite being as youthful and striking as his disciples, he appeared to be in a lazy state, as if he were already enjoying a long and peaceful life. Several disciples were attending to him; one was fanning him for cooling, another was kneading his legs and back, and a female disciple was kneeling on the floor, submissively massaging his legs. It looked like he was living quite the carefree life.

To be able to take on the role of a master, He Lang had put in a considerable amount of hard work. While his disciple diligently practiced, he stayed by his side. After a month, his own cultivation had slowly begun to recover, but his disciple still showed no progress, causing him concern. The gap in their innate talents was not something that could easily be bridged.

Nearby, a few disciples were reciting lengthy spells clearly and obediently, nervously watching their master’s expression, afraid of displeasing him. Wuding seemed indifferent, swaying his head as if listening to music, occasionally nodding.

This scene was starkly different from his own lonely cave dwelling, and He Lang couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy as he observed the obedient disciples, slightly lamenting how his junior brother was so skilled in interacting with his disciples. Unlike him, who worried about his single, delicate disciple. He wished to help Jiang Hanzheng become more resolute, at least to the point where he wouldn’t be too scared to even look at him.

Seeing his master gazing thoughtfully at the handsome and capable senior brothers and sisters, Jiang Hanzheng tugged at his master’s sleeve, seemingly wanting to remind him to greet Wuding Zhenren. In the end, he hesitated, feeling he had no right to interfere in his master’s affairs. He lowered his shoulders and fell silent.

He Lang glanced at him lightly. Jiang Hanzheng, feeling conflicted, tugged at his own clothing. Standing there, feeling unworthy as his master had only taken him in as a disciple, he thought of how disappointing he was, needing his master’s daily care. Now, with his master seeing the other disciples of Wuding Zhenren, he feared he would be looked down upon. If his master truly took in other senior brothers and sisters, how would he manage being so insignificant?

Thinking this way, his eyes warmed, fearing he might embarrass his master. Jiang Hanzheng quickly wiped his face with his sleeve.

At just over ten years old, and with a frail physique, he was shrinking in comparison to these others, standing stiffly to the side and looking pitiful. It was hard not to catch He Lang’s attention regarding his abnormal demeanor.

He Lang felt a twinge of guilt; he had indeed envied his junior brother for having such dutiful disciples. But upon seeing his own delicate disciple, all his thoughts dissipated. How could he seek out others unrelated to his matters when he hadn’t even cared for this one properly? His dedication was unwavering.

He wrapped his arm around Jiang Hanzheng’s frail shoulder, whispering comfortingly, “You… just relax.”

Seeing the interaction between the master and disciple, Wuding raised an eyebrow but said nothing, warmly approaching them.

“Wow! What wind from the immortal realm has brought my brother here! Your humble abode is shining brighter now!”

—

The author has a note: The little shou (Jiang Hanzheng) is still quite weak at this stage, while He Lang has automatically entered protective mode. It really feels like He Lang is raising a child; when will he ever have the chance to fall in love or have some fun? (Just kidding.)