Slag Shou Cultivating Manual - Chapter 97

Chapter 97: The Cinnabar Mole

Anyone would be furious if their time alone was interrupted by another, let alone Kong Huai, who, after many years, finally had the chance to sit closely and peacefully with his master. He had wished for time to stop so he could savor the moment. But Jiang Hanzheng’s sudden arrival instantly disrupted the atmosphere, and his master’s earlier compliance seemed as fleeting as a bloom that appears for a moment before disappearing.

He Lang immediately shifted his gaze to Jiang Hanzheng without overthinking it, sensing the tension and choosing to break the silence. “You’re back? Why so late?”

Kong Huai narrowed his eyes slightly and fell silent for a moment. The pleasant mood he had earlier vanished instantly. His tone turned cold, with a hint of sarcasm.

“Today, Junior Brother must have been basking in glory, envied by thousands. How could he remember that his master was waiting for him?”

Jiang Hanzheng’s throat tightened. He glanced at the two of them, his Adam’s apple moving slightly. Even though he wanted to appear composed and smile gracefully in front of his senior brother, he found himself incapable of doing so. Instead, a trace of fear appeared on his face, fearing his master might truly believe this as well.

“Disciple would never… Disciple has always kept Master in mind, whether during the competition, in battle, or just now… always.”

He Lang noticed his downcast expression, even detecting weakness in his tone as he tried to explain. Assuming Jiang Hanzheng was simply exhausted from the day’s competition, he patted his shoulder with concern to comfort him.

But why did the one who should be the most spirited return to the cave so crestfallen, his edge completely dulled?

He Lang frowned. His youngest disciple had endured harsh criticism when he first joined the sect. Over time, Jiang Hanzheng had grown impervious to such opinions, sticking firmly to his beliefs even when talked about again. He Lang thought his disciple had long since learned to disregard others’ prejudices, yet Kong Huai’s harsh words seemed to have genuinely affected him.

He Lang cast a meaningful look at Kong Huai, his expression a mix of amusement and scrutiny. Kong Huai, unreadable in his thoughts, met the gaze with a faint smile of his own.

His sleeve was tugged sharply. Turning his head, He Lang saw Jiang Hanzheng wearing an expression of quiet restraint, his head slightly lowered, yet his expressive eyes clearly conveyed his wish not to remain in the same space as Kong Huai.

With just a few words of reassurance, He Lang sent Kong Huai away. It helped that his tone was unusually gentle, leaving Kong Huai feeling lightheaded with satisfaction as he turned and departed.

Once alone with Jiang Hanzheng, He Lang immediately tapped his forehead and asked what was wrong. “Why the sulking face? Where’s the spirit you showed during the day?”

Jiang Hanzheng couldn’t shake the image of the two of them earlier, appearing so close and affectionate. Frustration welled up inside him, nearly spilling out. But when it came down to it, he hesitated. How could he explain this? Should he confess to his master his jealousy, his ugly possessiveness, his narrow-mindedness?

He refused to admit it and didn’t want his master to see the darker side of him.

Only by maintaining the pure and virtuous image his master admired could He Lang treat him as he always had. Jiang Hanzheng knew this all too well.

Seeing Jiang Hanzheng remain silent, He Lang made his own assumptions. He thought his disciple was upset by Kong Huai’s words and gently wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him close. Letting him rest against his chest, he softly said, “I know Kong Huai can be harsh to you, but you must try to bear with it… His cultivation is not low, and his temper is stubborn. It’s better to let things go. After all, you are fellow disciples and should not harbor grudges against each other.”

Conflict between them would benefit no one. He Lang believed that while Kong Huai might be unreasonable, his youngest disciple was always reasonable.

Jiang Hanzheng pressed his face against his master’s chest, quietly taking in his scent. Suppressing the bitterness in his heart, he forced a bright smile, nodding as though he had fully come to terms with everything.

The slightest praise of “good disciple” from He Lang lifted Jiang Hanzheng’s spirits instantly.

He had always heard from others how his master had once doted on Kong Huai, how incredible his senior brother was—admired by all and unmatched among new disciples. He was described as a prodigy, achieving Fusion stage cultivation by the age of sixteen.

At the time, Jiang Hanzheng had felt as though the confidence and effort he had painstakingly built up were crumbling bit by bit with each mention of Kong Huai.

But now, things were changing.

Kong Huai, too, had days when he appeared disheveled, criticized by others. Meanwhile, Jiang Hanzheng had his master’s favor and was celebrated by all.

He Lang continued to console him. “You and Kong Huai are not the same and need not dwell on comparisons. Regardless of how successful he was in the past or how small you once felt, today’s performance proves that with effort, even gaps you once thought insurmountable can be bridged, right?”

Jiang Hanzheng nodded but hesitated in his heart. He had caught up, yes, but…

“I have always had high hopes for you. No one else has ever truly mattered to me. Do you understand?”

Jiang Hanzheng took a deep breath, smiling as he responded. His struggles and inner turmoil had all been for the sake of hearing such simple words of praise and affection from his master. Now that he had achieved it, he felt both joy and trepidation.

He worried his master might discover that he had secretly unsealed his core. If that happened, all the trust and affection he had painstakingly earned over the years would be stained. It was a possibility he dared not imagine.

Yet He Lang had always trusted Jiang Hanzheng implicitly. The image of his honesty and obedience was deeply ingrained in He Lang’s mind. Even if others suspected Jiang Hanzheng of practicing forbidden techniques, He Lang would remain unshaken.

“Those people are blinded by jealousy. They scrutinize you, convinced you must be practicing demonic arts or are simply a miracle. But your master’s wish is for you to become a miracle.”

The absolute trust in those words was unmistakable, and Jiang Hanzheng couldn’t help but feel both joy and the weight of responsibility. How could he possibly live up to such expectations?

Lowering his eyes, his heart warmed and troubled simultaneously. His master was so understanding. Jiang Hanzheng had fallen for him from the very first moment and was completely captivated by his kindness. But what about others? Were they also drawn to the warmth of his master’s presence, compelled to follow him without hesitation?

“Did Master speak to Senior Brother earlier in the same way?” Jiang Hanzheng asked suddenly, his question ill-timed.

“Hm? I have nothing to say to him,” He Lang replied honestly, unwilling to let his disciple overthink.

Jiang Hanzheng wasn’t reassured. Instead, he doubted his master’s words even more. Leaning against his shoulder, his voice trembled slightly. “But Master seemed very close to Senior Brother before… Today, he even leaned on you like that.”

Blinded by a mix of irrationality and jealousy, Jiang Hanzheng finally voiced the sour thought he had been suppressing, his words dripping with implication.

Remembering the stories of how He Lang had sought out the Kunwu Sword specifically for Kong Huai and their various interactions, Jiang Hanzheng couldn’t shake the feeling that their bond was more than that of master and disciple.

These doubts weighed heavily on his mind, yet he couldn’t find answers. The parties involved refused to reveal anything, leaving Jiang Hanzheng feeling excluded from a world that should have been his alone.

He had grown used to being the center of his master’s life. How could he possibly accept not being able to understand him completely?

Hearing his question, He Lang couldn’t help but laugh. Finally understanding what truly bothered Jiang Hanzheng, he realized his youngest disciple was still hung up on his earlier interaction with Kong Huai.

“That bond was in the past. Kong Huai has grown, capable of standing on his own. We are now practically strangers. At most, we exchange a few polite words,” He Lang said.

Jiang Hanzheng pouted, still unhappy. Emboldened, he pressed further. “Disciple wishes to know what Senior Brother is to Master.”

What is he? This question stumped He Lang. Looking up at the distant, ethereal yet sentimental moonlight, he sighed softly.

“He? Perhaps he’s the moonlight—faintly visible yet untouchable, lingering yet fleeting.”

Even though He Lang kept his distance from Kong Huai, the original feelings stirred within him still lingered. Kong Huai’s presence, like persistent moonlight, lingered in his heart despite He Lang’s efforts to sever ties.

Jiang Hanzheng took a deep breath, swallowing the bitterness in his heart as he stared silently at the shadows of himself and his master entwined on the ground.

Even after surpassing his senior brother today, the joy quickly ebbed away like a receding tide. He realized that what he truly longed for wasn’t to outshine his senior brother but to be his master’s one and only.

Yet, if even his master described his senior brother as moonlight in his heart, then what was he? Jiang Hanzheng didn’t dare ask, afraid that in a century’s time, he might also be no more than a faint memory in his master’s eyes.

If his master could shower his senior brother with love in one era and abandon him in the next, what would become of him a hundred years from now? Jiang Hanzheng couldn’t fathom his master’s thoughts.

Lost in his worries, he clenched the hem of his robe tightly, his knuckles turning white, his face full of anxiety.

As he trembled, a slender hand, cool as jade, gently covered his own. His master’s calm breath brushed against his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

Jiang Hanzheng flinched, shrinking into the comforting coolness of He Lang’s embrace. Then, his master’s voice fell softly, like a cloud descending from the heavens.

“But you? You are the cinnabar mole in my heart, do you understand? Moonlight fades, but the cinnabar mole remains forever etched in my heart.”

Jiang Hanzheng listened word by word, piecing the sentences together and replaying them in his mind. His cheeks instantly burned.

The tangled mess of his heart was, at that moment, carefully unraveled by his master.

Jiang Hanzheng’s breathing quickened, his mind like a steaming basket, layers of mist rising and clouding his thoughts, leaving him in a dazed and naive state.

“If one day, after I grow up, I become like Senior Brother, no longer worthy of Master’s affection and forced to stand alone… I’d rather never grow up…”

Hearing his childish words, He Lang couldn’t help but laugh, a string of light chuckles escaping his throat. He repeatedly patted Jiang Hanzheng’s head and said, “In Master’s heart, you will never grow up.”

Author’s Note: Is it sweet? Or is it not sweet?