Slag Shou Cultivating Manual - Chapter 91

After three eliminations, four more contestants were knocked out one after another. The tournament was progressing rapidly. Among the elders of the Tianshan Sect, the one most visibly affected was Wuding. Seeing his three disciples being eliminated by Kong Huai in quick succession, he couldn’t help but sigh deeply and turn his gaze toward He Lang, who remained calm and composed.

“Your prized disciple truly is a young talent to behold!”

“Excessive sharpness may not be a good thing,” He Lang replied indifferently, ignoring Wuding’s mixture of jealousy and admiration.

Kong Huai’s current skills were not taught by He Lang; rather, they were honed through his century-long journey and learning abroad. Regardless of how others praised him, he truly felt little about it.

For his heart was always tied to Jiang Hanzheng—the child he had watched grow up and whom he cared for day and night.

Compared to Kong Huai’s ostentatious displays, He Lang was more concerned about Jiang Hanzheng’s situation.

…

Meanwhile, Liu Yihan found Jiang Hanzheng meditating calmly in a corner of the bamboo forest. An evil thought flashed in his mind; he intended to trip Jiang Hanzheng up when he least expected it.

However, just as Liu Yihan approached, a ground-breaking talisman suddenly activated. The earth cracked, sending a flurry of fallen bamboo leaves into the air, and Liu Yihan was forced back several meters.

Startled, Liu Yihan’s surprise quickly turned to disdain. Pressing his toes hard to steady himself from retreating further, he sneered.

“Just tricks and gimmicks. How can such things befit the disciple of the Supreme Immortal? Let me teach you what it means to spar today!”

With narrowed eyes and a vicious glint, Liu Yihan was about to unleash his killer move when both he and Jiang Hanzheng were suddenly enveloped in a faint glow, and their surroundings blurred.

Jiang Hanzheng glanced around, realizing the match had ended. With a naive smile, he sighed theatrically. “What a pity! I couldn’t give Brother Liu the satisfaction he wanted.”

It turned out that during this short time, Kong Huai had already eliminated two more contestants, ending the tournament entirely. The remaining nine contestants were automatically transported back to the sect.

Their battle had yet to begin, and the match was over in the blink of an eye—completely unexpected.

Relieved that he didn’t have to waste energy dealing with Liu Yihan and could return to the cave earlier to see his master, Jiang Hanzheng let out a breath. Liu Yihan, however, was still seething with frustration, vowing vengeance for next time.

Jiang Hanzheng, indifferent to his threats, cheerfully left the field to find He Lang. Liu Yihan, fuming, stomped his feet and begrudgingly followed, hoping to catch another glimpse of the Supreme Immortal.

In this match, Jiang Hanzheng had essentially stood by as others fought and reaped the benefits without lifting a finger, easily passing another hurdle.

Because of Kong Huai’s overwhelming performance, the remaining disciples were spared further battles. Still, many grew resentful of Kong Huai, feeling he was arrogant and disrespectful, not treating them as worthy opponents.

Kong Huai ignored these opinions, neither affirming nor denying them. To him, these people were never worthy rivals, so their praise or criticism was nothing but noise—meaningless chirping or barking he wouldn’t dignify with attention.

Unlike Liu Yihan, whose arrogance stemmed from insecurity and past hardships, Kong Huai’s aloofness was genuine. He was truly proud and detached, unbothered by worldly matters.

Born into a wealthy and prestigious family, he was discovered at the age of three to possess a rare single spiritual root. Entering the renowned Tianshan Sect was effortless, and he was directly recommended to the celebrated Supreme Immortal, becoming his first disciple.

From that point on, he had access to the finest resources and spiritual stones. To him, both inner and outer disciples were mere stepping stones, and he never considered anyone his equal.

Yet this proud man, strangely, appeared the next day with some books and magical artifacts, seeking out He Lang.

“Master, your ignorant disciple has come to seek guidance.”

Hearing these words, He Lang thought he’d misheard. Stunned for a few seconds, he slowly nodded to show he had heard correctly.

But the person before him looked more composed than anyone else, holding a book with no visible confusion—hardly the demeanor of someone humbly seeking guidance.

He Lang had assumed Kong Huai could already learn and manage everything independently, rendering his role as a master almost ceremonial. Kong Huai’s sudden request for help was unexpected.

It was as if a cold, unyielding stone had softened, finally lowering itself to the mortal realm.

Flipping through the books Kong Huai brought, He Lang couldn’t help but find them peculiar. They were basic texts for Qi Refinement and Foundation Establishment cultivators—more suitable for someone like Jiang Hanzheng. Besides, Kong Huai had never shown any interest in reading. Could these be Jiang Hanzheng’s books, grabbed randomly as an excuse?

Kong Huai, observing He Lang’s expression, belatedly realized the oversight. Annoyed with himself for acting impulsively, he maintained a calm facade and explained seriously, “Reviewing old knowledge to gain new insights.”

“Ah… reviewing old knowledge. Admirable. Truly commendable,” He Lang replied with a raised brow, though his tone carried subtle amusement. Knowing full well Kong Huai wasn’t here for real guidance, He Lang decided not to waste effort explaining further.

Kong Huai frowned, studying He Lang’s profile. It seemed as if his master was deliberately avoiding him, unwilling to share his thoughts openly. Unease bubbled within Kong Huai, growing heavier by the moment.

“Master treats me coldly, unwilling to teach me?”

“Of course not,” He Lang shook his head. After some deliberation, he turned away and spoke softly, “You’ve already achieved much. I believe you no longer need my guidance and will soon graduate.”

Kong Huai’s expression shifted. He didn’t believe He Lang truly thought him ready to graduate. This was likely a polite way of distancing himself, signaling an unwillingness to invest further energy.

A chill crept through Kong Huai’s body as he felt a strength draining from his limbs. Simultaneously, a nameless anger ignited in his heart.

Fine. If He Lang was so intent on severing their bond, then Kong Huai would make sure he didn’t get his way.

Was it all for that useless spiritual-rooted boy? Why go to such lengths? Did he truly intend to devote himself entirely to that waste?

In his impulsive, extreme state, Kong Huai mentally condemned Jiang Hanzheng, imagining countless ways to rid himself of the boy.

He wondered: if he hadn’t turned away so quickly in the past, would things have turned out differently? Perhaps it was his own fault that He Lang had grown distant, avoiding him as though he no longer mattered.

A wave of bitterness rose within him, choking his throat. Finally, he muttered softly, “Master, you are truly heartless.”

Years of memories, once dulled by his century-long journey, resurfaced vividly the moment he returned to Tianshan and stood before He Lang again. Every detail of the past flooded back, as if the dust had been wiped clean.

He remembered how He Lang had always cared for him meticulously, attending to everything from his cultivation to his daily needs, ensuring he had the best of everything.

Each time he broke through a cultivation stage, He Lang was the happiest of them all.

When had their relationship changed? He couldn’t forget. It was during his coming-of-age ceremony, coinciding with his breakthrough to late Foundation Establishment. That night, He Lang was visibly joyful, though a trace of unfamiliar emotion tinged his happiness.

Next came the master’s subtle and restrained confession.

At that time, his heart was struck with fear, like turbulent waves crashing and the sky spinning, leaving him at a loss.

He regarded his master as a father, respected and admired him, but he had never considered that his master would harbor such feelings toward him. Naturally, he chose to flee.

From then on, he avoided his master at every turn. The care and concern that once warmed him now felt like a flood of beasts, leaving him restless and uneasy. His mind was in chaos, and he distanced himself from all of his master’s goodwill. After much deliberation, he proposed an excuse to travel and left the mountain.

At first, he hesitated for several months, never returning to Tianshan. Then he heard that his master had begun a long retreat as well.

Resolutely, he hardened his heart and still did not go back.

That one journey lasted nearly a century. He thought he had matured and could handle matters with calm and composure, but upon hearing that his master had come out of seclusion, his heart rippled with emotions once more.

Then, learning that his master had taken on a new disciple, and one with five spirit roots at that, he could not help but mind.

He wanted to see what kind of person his master had taken in. Though curious, his thoughts were tinged with pride and disdain. Deep down, he had already concluded that no matter who this person was, they could never surpass him.

His memories remained frozen in the past. He was accustomed to his master’s attention and affection, his care and warmth, having long taken it all for granted and grown used to holding all of his master’s attention in his grasp.

However, upon returning, he found his master so unfamiliar, leaving him with a growing sense of unease. He didn’t know how to face him. He wanted to ask what his master was thinking, but he had lost the ability to draw close again.

And now, the master who had once given him all his sincere devotion discarded him in just a few short days, cleanly and decisively, as if completely forgetting him. Not even a word of concern was spared, and the smallest bit of closeness was now withheld—stingy and utterly heartless.

When he had come under this man’s tutelage, he had been but a youth. Even though he had once turned away, all his memories of youthful inexperience and immaturity during his foundation-building stage were tied to this man. How could he not feel a sense of loss in the face of such a stark contrast? The more he thought about it, the more it felt as though he were falling from the heavens directly into an abyss.

When his master’s image began to surface more and more frequently in his mind, Kong Huai belatedly realized that he remembered every one of his master’s actions clearly, irresistibly drawing him in. The more he reflected, the more he found himself savoring these memories.

He etched every ounce of kindness his master showed that worthless spirit root boy into his heart, unsure whether he was jealous or simply disdainful and self-deceiving. It was almost masochistic, yet he stubbornly maintained his prideful demeanor.

Seeing that boy with the defective spirit roots clinging to his master day in and day out, he felt an aversion. How could a man constantly cling to someone like this?

But after a moment of silence, he mocked himself: was he not doing the same? He couldn’t help but sigh. Perhaps his master had cultivated a technique to make others drown in his boundless gentleness, willing to throw themselves into the flames like moths to a flame.