PID Chapter 40

Kofi thanks to Choco~

(4/5)

Flying back from Jing Lei’s courtyard, Xiao Mo relayed everything he had seen and heard to Chu Jinglan via voice transmission.

“Jing Lei likely does have a method for repairing dantians that others can use,” Xiao Mo analyzed methodically. “However, the process will undoubtedly be grueling—and there may be additional limitations or conditions.”

He continued: “I sensed his cultivation level—it’s weaker than that of an average Golden Core cultivator. It seems he won’t be able to progress further in the short term.”

In other words, Jing Lei’s method might have significant flaws.

Chu Jinglan wasn’t willing to settle for being stuck at Golden Core stage for the rest of his life. However, regardless of potential shortcomings, they needed to learn the method first before deciding their next steps.

Xiao Mo hurried back to the dilapidated wooden hut, landing gracefully before using spiritual energy to manifest his form and suppress his aura to Foundation Establishment level.

“What kind of expressions should we use later?” Xiao Mo asked eagerly. “Of course, most of the performance will depend on you.”

“I’ve got a few scripts prepared for reference,” he said, clearing his throat. “There’s the ‘pitiful underdog enduring humiliation,’ the ‘motivational youth shouting ‘thirty years east of the river, thirty years west—don’t bully the poor!’’, and—”

Chu Jinglan’s expression turned slightly peculiar. “…Are all the stories in your books like this?”

Xiao Mo blinked in surprise: “How did you know I read storybooks?”

Chu Jinglan replied calmly: “You’ve piled them all into my storage ring.”

“Ah,” Xiao Mo tapped his flute lightly. “Sometimes I just toss them somewhere—I didn’t really notice.”

He asked, “So which storybook role are you planning to play?”

Chu Jinglan replied flatly: “None.”

Xiao Mo snapped his fingers. “Got it—authentic performance.”

Regardless of whether they had foreknowledge of Yushan Sect’s plans, Chu Jinglan wasn’t likely to be emotionally affected by those coming to provoke them. The only difference would be his attitude afterward—knowing they weren’t genuinely trying to oppress him meant it wouldn’t result in grudges or future retaliation.

It had to be said—Jing Lei’s idea wasn’t great. No wonder Song Xuan wanted him to change it. It was clear that Jing Lei wasn’t just loud like a bull; his temper was just as stubborn.

Xiao Mo glanced at the rundown hut and said: “Let’s stick to our own pace for now. First things first—shouldn’t we fix up this place?”

—

Three disciples from Yushan Sect received Song Xuan’s orders. After sighing and complaining about Uncle Jing Lei’s peculiar thinking, they adopted a domineering posture and marched toward the dilapidated hut with their heads held high.

Walking together, they managed to muster some semblance of intimidation. But when they arrived at the hut and saw the scene before them, they froze in place.

On top of the roof stood two young men. One was balancing steadily on a narrow beam, either practicing his skills or avoiding stepping on unstable areas, holding a wooden plank in his arms. The other, with no visible expression, had rolled up his sleeves and was sitting calmly on one side of the roof, hammering nails into place to secure the planks and repair the roof.

Their first reaction: By heaven’s grace, Song Xuan Senior Brother wasn’t lying—they’re ridiculously good-looking!

Their second reaction: Where did they even get wooden planks and nails?

The nails and hammer had been found inside the hut—rusted but still usable. As for the wooden planks, they had dismantled an old broken barrel behind the house that couldn’t hold water anymore. Waste not, want not.

When the two on the roof noticed their arrival, they put down their work and leapt gracefully to the ground—one landing with elegance and poise, while the other stopped with calm composure. Both bowed respectfully and greeted them: “Are you Senior Brothers from Yushan Sect here to deliver instructions?”

“Y-yes! You’re… uh… cough cough! No! I mean yes—that’s us!”

The lead disciple, almost distracted by their striking appearances, pinched himself hard, grimacing in pain as he forced a fierce expression onto his face. “You knew we were coming, and yet you didn’t come out to greet us earlier!”

Xiao Mo wasn’t intimidated. He blinked innocently and replied, “We’ve been outside the whole time, so technically, we were already here to greet you.”

Well… that made sense.

Wait, no! He couldn’t let himself get sidetracked. The lead disciple snapped back fiercely: “How dare you talk back!”

Xiao Mo lowered his gaze slightly, raised his hand, and bowed respectfully. “I wouldn’t dare. Please guide us, Senior Brother.”

The disciples pressed their hands against their chests, feeling a pang of guilt. Look at how polite this kid is—why does this feel so wrong?

This wasn’t the first time they’d been roped into playing the role of bullies, but no matter how many times they did it, it never got easier. After all, they weren’t naturally arrogant or domineering people. Every time they acted like this, their consciences would nag at them for days.

Xiao Mo extended his divine sense subtly and picked up on the emotions emanating from these disciples. Their feelings were so clear that he could easily distinguish them one by one. He had to work hard to suppress the laughter threatening to escape from his lips.

He also sensed Song Xuan hiding behind a tree not far away, suppressing his aura as he observed them.

“Here are your disciple plaques—take them.” One of the disciples casually tossed the plaques toward them without much care. Chu Jinglan’s sharp reflexes allowed him to catch them steadily mid-air.

The disciple continued: “Every day at quarter past dawn, you must report to the Affairs Hall to collect your chores. The Affairs Hall is in the east—uh… why am I telling you where it is? Figure it out yourself! And if you’re late, you’ll be punished. As for where the dining hall is… go ask someone else!”

Several times he nearly let slip too much information but bit his tongue and forcibly redirected himself.

The lead disciple then turned his attention to Chu Jinglan, matching him with Song Xuan’s description: “So you’re the one with a crippled dantian?”

Chu Jinglan replied calmly: “Yes.”

The disciple clenched his fists tightly for a moment as if steeling himself before forcing a mocking smile. “Do you know how many crippled cultivators have begged Uncle Jing Lei for help only to leave empty-handed? I advise you not to waste your time!”

Chu Jinglan’s gaze didn’t waver in the slightest as he replied evenly: “Thank you for letting me know.”

He exuded an air of calmness—neither humble nor arrogant.

The other disciples couldn’t help but find this unusual.

In past situations like this, people with fiery tempers would have started arguing with them by now. Even those who avoided confrontation would clench their fists and show restrained anger or grief. But someone as composed as Chu Jinglan, who didn’t even stir up a ripple of emotion? This was a first.

And the boy beside him looked equally unbothered—his demeanor practically screamed “Whatever you say goes.”

Uh… so if they don’t argue or cause trouble… what are we supposed to do next? Should we just stop here and leave?

As they hesitated, wondering if it was time to wrap things up and walk away, Song Xuan’s voice suddenly reached their ears through a secret transmission. Their footsteps halted immediately.

“Ahem!”

The lead disciple cleared his throat loudly to draw everyone’s attention before looking Chu Jinglan up and down with a disdainful expression. “You clearly don’t understand your situation. Do you think you’re still capable of anything? Be glad if you can manage basic chores—you’re no longer fit to call yourself a cultivator.”

“As your senior brother,” he continued while drawing his sword dramatically, “it’s my duty to help you recognize your place. I’ll give you some guidance today—but don’t worry—I won’t use spiritual energy so you can’t accuse me of bullying. Show me your weapon!”

The other disciples didn’t quite understand why things had escalated so suddenly but quickly chimed in loudly: “Yes! That’s right!”

Xiao Mo pointed at them discreetly and thought: What clunky dialogue.

Chu Jinglan lifted his gaze steadily and summoned his newly acquired profound-tier spiritual sword without hesitation. His tone remained calm as he asked: “Will this be one-on-one guidance, or do all of you plan to offer instruction together?”

Despite the provocation, Chu Jinglan remained composed, his demeanor cold and steady. Yet, the faint aura of sword intent and an unyielding presence began to emanate from him. Standing tall with his sword in hand, he was like a pine tree—upright and resolute. Though he carried no arrogance, his bearing exuded an innate pride.

The disciple facing him hesitated for a moment: “Single or together? Uh… this…”

Song Xuan’s voice transmitted discreetly again: “Group fight—go for it.”

The disciple immediately declared: “Of course, all of us will provide guidance! We’re all your senior brothers. You two, bring out your weapons and join us!”

The other two disciples, while drawing their weapons, secretly transmitted their thoughts: “Are we really ganging up on just two people? Isn’t this a bit much?”

No—it was actually three against one.

Because Xiao Mo, with his hands clasped behind his back, casually stepped aside to make room for them.

As Chu Jinglan’s companion, the Yushan Sect disciples had expected Xiao Mo to stand alongside him—righteously drawing his weapon and fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with Chu Jinglan against their challenge. But to their surprise, Xiao Mo leisurely walked to the side as though preparing to watch the show. He was only missing a handful of sunflower seeds or candied fruits to complete the scene.

All three disciples turned their gazes toward him in unison.

“You’re not joining?” one of them asked.

Xiao Mo kept his hands behind his back, his dark crow-like lashes fluttering lightly as he replied in a tone of compassionate detachment: “No—I cultivate the Path of Mercy, which forbids harming life.”

The Yushan Sect disciples: “…”

Song Xuan, still hidden and observing from afar: “…”

What nonsense is this?!

Song Xuan froze in disbelief. Most who followed the Path of Mercy were Buddhist cultivators—but even they occasionally combined chanting with physically dealing with demonic or heretical beings. If someone claimed not to kill, that might still be plausible—but not harming life at all? Even saints wouldn’t dare make such a claim.

Recovering from his shock, Song Xuan squinted at Xiao Mo suspiciously, convinced that there must be something fishy about this guy.

Meanwhile, Xiao Mo shamelessly maintained his saintly persona without a hint of embarrassment, standing firmly in the role of an observer. Chu Jinglan didn’t spare him a glance—it seemed he was used to this behavior and tacitly accepted it.

The Yushan Sect disciples were left utterly perplexed. Is this Path of Mercy even real? Are these two really close companions who share hardships?

But since they had already spoken and drawn their weapons, there was no turning back now.

Three against one—and against someone whose dantian had been destroyed—they couldn’t help but feel incredibly shameless about it.

Still, since they weren’t using spiritual energy, the contest would be based purely on technique and movement—unrelated to the state of Chu Jinglan’s dantian.

When all three attacked simultaneously at a single point, Chu Jinglan’s sword blade rotated slightly as his gaze sank like a deep ocean. He remained motionless until the spiritual weapons were mere inches from him—then finally moved.

His sword danced like a dragon and soared like frost upon the wind.

With just one strike, he simultaneously deflected all three attacks. His seamless sword intent surged like crashing waves—its power hidden when the sea was calm but revealed in its full grandeur when the tidal force struck head-on. It was overwhelming and unstoppable.

With a single strike, Chu Jinglan’s swordsmanship lit up Song Xuan’s eyes.

The three disciples were forced back two steps, caught off guard by the unexpected power of his move. They had attacked casually, without much effort, and were now visibly surprised.

Chu Jinglan didn’t press his advantage. Instead, he raised his sword diagonally and assumed a poised stance, ready for another round. “Please guide me.”

He demonstrated both skill and the demeanor of a gentleman.

The three disciples, who had initially intended to just go through the motions, finally grew serious and adjusted their stances properly.

Xiao Mo stood off to the side, watching with a smile. Amidst the flashing blades and swords, Chu Jinglan moved with agility and grace, his sword cutting through the air with afterimages trailing behind. Even without spiritual energy, he remained extraordinary—his presence undiminished by the humble surroundings.

No wonder he was the character who captivated me at first glance in the story, Xiao Mo thought.

Unable to take his eyes off Chu Jinglan, Xiao Mo’s resolve deepened: I must ensure that Chu Jinglan avoids all those messy romantic entanglements and sticks to being an unstoppable Dragon Emperor protagonist.

As long as there’s no melodrama and Chu Jinglan doesn’t break character, he’ll always remain that brilliant prodigy—the pride of heaven.

At some point, Song Xuan appeared beside Xiao Mo, arms crossed as he commented wryly: “I thought you weren’t helping because your relationship with him was just average. But now I see—it’s because you have absolute confidence in him.”

Indeed, Chu Jinglan was holding his own against three opponents with ease and was gradually gaining the upper hand.

Feigning surprise as though he hadn’t sensed Song Xuan’s presence earlier, Xiao Mo said: “When did you arrive, Senior Brother? I didn’t even notice.”

His gaze remained fixed on Chu Jinglan without sparing a glance for anyone else. He spoke casually: “Your sect is so welcoming—just after joining, we’ve already received such enthusiastic guidance from multiple senior brothers. It shows how righteous your sect is and how deeply connected its members are.”

Song Xuan: “…”

Turning his head slightly, Song Xuan rubbed his aching teeth. “Junior Brother, why do I feel like you’re subtly insulting us?”

Xiao Mo replied in an exceptionally obedient tone: “How could I?”

Song Xuan stroked his chin thoughtfully: Well well—he looked like a harmless little rabbit at first glance. Turns out he’s just like me—a fox.

Stepping closer to Xiao Mo, Song Xuan asked: “Are you really cultivating this so-called Path of Mercy that forbids harming life?”

Xiao Mo lied shamelessly without batting an eye: “Yes.”

Song Xuan pursed his lips and silently scrutinized him for a moment before suddenly striking out with a palm!

Xiao Mo turned his head slightly to face Song Xuan’s incoming hand directly—and didn’t move an inch.

Song Xuan’s palm carried enough force to stir the air but stopped abruptly three inches from Xiao Mo’s nose. The wind ruffled Xiao Mo’s black hair before it fell gently back into place.

Unflinching and composed, Xiao Mo calmly watched as Song Xuan withdrew his hand slowly. “Senior Brother also wants to guide me?”

Song Xuan pulled back his hand and casually rested one on his hip as if he hadn’t just attempted a sneak attack. He looked completely unserious as he replied: “No need—I see you’re an auditory cultivator specializing in musical techniques. We’re on different paths—I wouldn’t be able to guide you.”

The white jade flute tucked into Xiao Mo’s belt marked him clearly as a sound-based cultivator using magical artifacts.

Taking the flute into his hand, Xiao Mo pretended to have an epiphany: “You’ve reminded me—I can actually help after all.”

Watching him prepare to play the flute, Song Xuan raised an eyebrow. “You promised not to use spiritual energy—if you use magic techniques now, you’ll be breaking the rules.”

Xiao Mo confidently assured him: “I won’t use spiritual energy.”

Intrigued now, Song Xuan leaned in slightly—he wanted to see how a sound cultivator could assist without using spiritual energy.

Recently, Xiao Mo had expanded his repertoire beyond Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. He found the half-finished tune Chu Jinglan had played that day so captivating that he had asked Chu Jinglan to write down part of it. This melody had now been added to his “luxury practice set.”

The piece was quite challenging, and when Xiao Mo played it, the effect was far more… impactful than the months he had spent practicing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

What kind of effect? The kind that made people wish they couldn’t hear.

Raising his flute, Xiao Mo prepared to play. Under Song Xuan’s amused and expectant gaze, he took a breath and began—

“Beeep! Screeee-beep-beep—!”

Standing too close, Song Xuan was caught completely off guard by the sharp, jarring sound that pierced his eardrums. He instinctively cried out and clapped his hands over his ears, but it was already too late. The shrill notes assaulted every sense, leaving him with a ringing in his ears as the screeching cacophony seemed to echo endlessly in his mind.

In the forest behind the dilapidated hut, birds flapped their wings in panic and screeched as they fled en masse. Meanwhile, the three disciples sparring with Chu Jinglan were equally unprepared—their previously fiery momentum was abruptly shattered by the discordant flute sounds.

One of them, who had been stepping forward from a lower angle to attack Chu Jinglan, stumbled mid-stride and fell forward. Without hesitation, Chu Jinglan raised his foot and kicked him aside, sending him out of the fight. Without pausing, he spun like a swallow and swept his sword in reverse, disarming the remaining two disciples by knocking their weapons clean out of their hands.

The two disciples had already been startled by Xiao Mo’s flute playing; their trembling hands barely held onto their weapons. Chu Jinglan wasted no time exploiting their openings, decisively ending the match in the blink of an eye.

Calmly sheathing his sword, Chu Jinglan said: “Thank you for your guidance, Senior Brothers.”

With the sparring match concluded, Xiao Mo lowered his flute and smiled brightly. “Thank you for your guidance as well.”

The three disciples and Song Xuan: “…”

They stood there in stunned silence, unable to react for a long time.

Even without Xiao Mo’s flute playing, it was clear that Chu Jinglan had already gained the upper hand. The three disciples had been preparing to gracefully concede defeat and end the sparring session with dignity. But their plans were completely derailed by the sudden chaos—leaving them utterly defeated in a mess of confusion.

Sure, they were only following orders—but they had talked big and drawn their weapons. To lose so miserably after all that? It just didn’t feel right.

Song Xuan rubbed his ears in pain and exclaimed: “How is this not considered harming life?!”

Xiao Mo replied confidently: “It’s your lack of mental fortitude.”

He had deliberately played even worse than usual—which was easy for him since his flute skills were already terrible. By abandoning what little technique he had painstakingly practiced, he could make it as unbearable as he wanted.

“See?” Xiao Mo pointed toward Chu Jinglan. “He wasn’t affected by my flute playing.”

All eyes turned toward Chu Jinglan. Song Xuan asked incredulously: “Junior Brother Chu…dare I ask if your hearing is impaired?”

Chu Jinglan lifted his eyelids slightly and replied calmly: “Thank you for your concern—it’s fine.”

With this testimony in hand, Xiao Mo stood firm in his argument: “So if you were startled, it’s clearly your problem—not mine.”

After all, being subjected to horrendous flute playing wasn’t considered harm by any universal law—there was no backlash from any higher power. With this assurance, Xiao Mo felt completely justified in his actions.

Xiao Mo twirled his flute as he walked over to Chu Jinglan, smiling as he asked, “Do the senior brothers have any more guidance for us?”

Song Xuan’s gaze swept over the two of them before he suddenly burst into laughter.

“Ha! Interesting, truly interesting. It’s been a long time since our little sect had such entertaining newcomers.”

With a grin, Song Xuan added: “That’s enough for today. I look forward to seeing your performance in the future—don’t forget that work starts tomorrow, Junior Brothers.”

After finishing his remarks, Song Xuan waved his hand and left with the three defeated disciples. Once they were far away, Xiao Mo turned to Chu Jinglan and asked, “Does it hurt?”

Even without spiritual energy, the force from the sparring could have affected Chu Jinglan’s still-healing meridians. Chu Jinglan replied calmly: “It doesn’t hurt.”

His hand, still gripping the sword, trembled slightly—not from pain but from the exhilaration of finally wielding his sword freely again. After such an invigorating match, his body couldn’t help but feel restless with excitement.

Both his sword and body seemed to be calling out for more—but Chu Jinglan knew it wasn’t enough.

Today, the Yushan Sect disciples had held back against him. None of them had used spiritual energy. If they had, no matter how refined Chu Jinglan’s sword techniques were, they would have been akin to an ant trying to topple a tree—an effort doomed to fail.

Pressing his fingers lightly against the hilt of his sword, Chu Jinglan said resolutely: “We need to convince Jing Lei quickly.”

He was determined to reclaim what was rightfully his.

“Mm. Let’s perform well and figure out what he wants. But before that—” Xiao Mo picked up the wooden hammer they had left on the ground earlier and handed it to Chu Jinglan. “Let’s finish fixing up this house first.”

After all, they couldn’t actually live in a leaky hut—it would be better to pitch a tent outside if it came to that.

The two of them spent the evening hammering away at the roof and fixing up the door as best they could. With limited materials, their carpentry was rough and barely functional. By the time they finished, it was already late. For now, they’d have to make do for the night and see what tasks they’d be assigned tomorrow. If they could spare some time later, they’d try to find more materials and properly repair the house.

Inside the hut were two wooden beds. After casting a cleaning spell on them, Xiao Mo and Chu Jinglan pulled out some fabric from their storage devices to use as makeshift bedding. There were no blankets or quilts available, so Xiao Mo wrapped Chu Jinglan in a layer of spiritual energy to keep him warm through the night.

Chu Jinglan glanced around at the room before suddenly saying: “You should return to your sea of consciousness tonight.”

Xiao Mo had previously mentioned that he had claimed a portion of Chu Jinglan’s sea of consciousness and built a cozy three-story pavilion there—far more comfortable than this place.

Turning back after finishing his bed preparations, Xiao Mo replied: “Hm? No need—what if someone tries to ambush us during the night?” He patted the bed frame lightly. “I’ll sit here and meditate while cultivating. You’ll just have to bear with it for tonight—we’ll find some proper pillows and blankets later.”

Chu Jinglan lowered his gaze and said in a deep voice: “I don’t mind.”

Whether or not Xiao Mo sensed what was on his mind wasn’t clear—but Xiao Mo smiled warmly and said: “I don’t mind either.”

Chu Jinglan paused before replying: “…Alright.”

For Chu Jinglan, this wasn’t even close to being the worst place he’d endured before. Yet seeing Xiao Mo dressed in fine robes standing amidst such dilapidation felt oddly out of place.

Roughing it during travel hadn’t bothered him—but now that they were staying under a roof, an unfamiliar feeling crept in.

Perhaps it was because houses often evoke thoughts of home.

This broken-down hut didn’t suit Xiao Mo at all.

Chu Jinglan silently resolved: Tomorrow we’ll find some soft bedding.