PID Chapter 42

(5/5) Extra Update ~

 

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Standing with his sword in hand, Chu Jinglan faced Jing Lei unwaveringly. Though he stood below on the steps while being looked down upon from above, he remained composed—piercing through all notions of superiority with his unyielding presence.

 

He replied firmly: “Why would I not dare?”

 

Jing Lei gripped the broad hilt of his heavy sword and scrutinized him carefully before saying: “Alright, I’ll tell you the rules. Each time you challenge me, you may use up to two profound-tier magical artifacts—but no other treasures are allowed. After our match, you’re forbidden from taking any pills.”

 

With Chu Jinglan’s current meager spiritual energy, even a profound-tier magical artifact couldn’t fully unleash its potential. The sword in his hand, for instance, couldn’t emit any spiritual light when wielded.

 

As for pills that could temporarily boost cultivation, they were entirely useless for someone whose dantian had been destroyed.

 

Jing Lei stood tall and imposing, wielding his massive sword. From his elevated position, his presence was as overwhelming as a mountain. “You have one chance today—that is now. Of course, you can choose not to fight and simply lose this opportunity. It’s no big deal.”

 

This was a match destined for defeat.

 

If Chu Jinglan accepted, he would face humiliation at Yushan Sect’s mountain gate under the gaze of countless onlookers. The crowd’s judgmental stares and the looming presence of the gate and Jing Lei might carve deep scars into his mind—like an insurmountable mountain pressing down on him.

 

Failure is a terrifying thing—it can easily crush a person’s spirit.

 

But Chu Jinglan feared neither mountains nor waves. He was born to climb peaks and ride tides.

 

He set down the box he had been carrying and swallowed a recovery pill to replenish his dangerously depleted stamina. Then he raised his gaze, sharp as frost and steel, and said coldly: “Please guide me.”

 

Even if defeat was certain—even if mockery awaited him—Chu Jinglan resolutely drew his sword and stepped forward, unwavering in pursuit of his goal.

 

Xiao Mo found himself unable to look away.

 

Even if Chu Jinglan were to lose, his figure shone brighter than anyone else’s. No one could deny the courage he displayed at this moment.

 

Xiao Mo felt a faint ache in his chest, but as a witness, he was determined to watch until the end—whether it was Chu Jinglan’s moments of vulnerability or his radiant brilliance.

 

The duel at the mountain gate didn’t last long. One was at Qi Refining early stage; the other at Golden Core mid-stage. Even with Jing Lei limiting himself to only ten percent of his spiritual energy, it was more than enough to crush Chu Jinglan effortlessly.

 

One move was all it took to decide the outcome.

 

Chu Jinglan’s back slammed into the stone slabs at the mountain gate, cracking them upon impact. His sword fell beside him as darkness clouded his vision. He didn’t care about the expressions or voices of those around him—his mind fixated solely on Jing Lei’s single strike.

 

…It didn’t even require any technique—just pure power overwhelming him like an unbridgeable chasm.

 

Chu Jinglan’s mouth had already tasted dry blood from exhaustion; now it turned wet and metallic as fresh blood seeped out. A pill was suddenly pressed against his lips.

 

Still blinded by darkness, Chu Jinglan instinctively clenched his lips shut when something approached them. He only relaxed when he felt something cool and silky touch the corner of his mouth.

 

It was smooth like satin—cold yet soft to the touch.

 

…The same sensation he occasionally felt when Xiao Mo brushed against him.

 

Chu Jinglan parted his teeth slightly, allowing the pill to be placed into his mouth successfully.

 

The bitter taste of medicine diluted the metallic tang of blood. As the pill began taking effect and his vision cleared, the first thing he saw was Xiao Mo standing before him.

 

The Yushan Sect disciples and Jing Lei had left at some point. The pill worked slowly but effectively—his internal injuries weren’t severe and would heal within half a day with rest. However, Chu Jinglan was so drained that he couldn’t even move a finger.

 

Xiao Mo used a cleaning spell to wipe away the blood from Chu Jinglan’s lips before pulling him up by the arm. Using black mist for support, Xiao Mo hoisted Chu Jinglan onto his back.

 

Chu Jinglan’s hand hung limply in front of Xiao Mo as his gaze flickered faintly without speaking a word.

 

Although they had spent hours completing their assigned tasks earlier in the day, they had started early enough that it was still afternoon—the peak time for disciples’ activities. As Xiao Mo carried Chu Jinglan through Yushan Sect’s gates, some disciples pretended not to see them to avoid awkwardness, while others discreetly gave Chu Jinglan a thumbs-up in silent admiration.

 

Although Chu Jinglan had lost, many people admired his courage.

 

However, with his gaze lowered, Chu Jinglan didn’t notice any of it.

 

The dilapidated hut was far from the other disciples’ residences. Before long, Xiao Mo and Chu Jinglan were walking on a path where they encountered no one else—it was just the two of them.

 

As Xiao Mo carried Chu Jinglan on his back, he couldn’t help but recall the last time he had done this—when Chu Jinglan had a fever. Back then, they were also on a mountain path.

 

But that time, Chu Jinglan had been unconscious, unaware of anything.

 

This time, he was awake.

 

“Twice,” Xiao Mo remarked casually, avoiding the topic of the earlier duel. Instead, he brought up something else. “I’ve carried you twice now. When will you carry me? I’ve never been carried by anyone before.”

 

Xiao Mo asked him: “What’s it like being carried by someone?”

 

Chu Jinglan replied simply: “…No feeling.”

 

Xiao Mo shrugged. “Alright then. If anything hurts, let me know—I’ll get you some medicine.”

 

Chu Jinglan wasn’t in pain. He and Xiao Mo had a knack for seamlessly switching between casual conversation and serious topics without either of them finding it awkward. It was Chu Jinglan who brought up Jing Lei next.

 

“Jing Lei’s techniques are bold and straightforward—he uses brute force to subdue opponents. His sword moves as its master commands.”

 

Xiao Mo picked up the thread effortlessly: “So just finding flaws in his techniques isn’t enough—you also need to withstand his pressure.”

 

Neither of them mentioned how miserable the defeat had been or dwelled on what it felt like to lose. They didn’t waste a moment—they were already thinking about what to do next.

 

The gap in cultivation levels was undeniable. Spiritual energy pressure wasn’t something easily endured. Some cultivators facing those far above their own level couldn’t even remain standing under such pressure—it wasn’t an exaggeration but a fact.

 

But this was a battle Chu Jinglan had to win, so neither of them needed to reflect on their emotions—they only needed to strategize.

 

Fear and retreat weren’t part of their vocabulary—they had no place here.

 

“Finding flaws in his techniques… If it’s just you doing it, it’ll be too slow,” Xiao Mo said bluntly. “I’m not trying to discourage you—just being realistic. At least within ten days, you won’t be able to force him into using a second move.”

 

Chu Jinglan wasn’t discouraged—he was self-aware enough to recognize the truth. “Mm.”

 

Xiao Mo pondered aloud: “That’s too slow—it’s a tough problem. Let’s set that aside for now and focus on another question: how can you withstand his pressure?”

 

He continued: “You’re allowed two magical artifacts—your sword takes one slot. For the other, why not use a defensive artifact to help mitigate some of the pressure?”

 

Chu Jinglan responded thoughtfully: “I want to use an artifact that can disrupt his movements.”

 

Defense might not be particularly useful in this situation—Chu Jinglan preferred to invest both artifacts in offense instead.

 

 

“What, are you planning to get beaten up every day to adapt to the pressure?” Xiao Mo asked, clearly unimpressed. Overcoming Jing Lei required solving two major challenges, and if this was the best solution they could come up with, neither the “examiner” nor they themselves would approve.

 

But what other options were there?

 

Pressure… adapt… adapt… Suddenly, inspiration struck Xiao Mo.

 

Adapting was indeed necessary, but who said it had to be Jing Lei himself applying the pressure?

 

As long as the suppressive force was similar, it would work just as well!

 

There wasn’t even a need to involve anyone else—he already had the perfect helper right here.

 

Xiao Mo.

 

With his Nascent Soul-level cultivation, suppressing someone with Golden Core-stage pressure at ten percent spiritual energy was effortless for him. After all, the world’s laws forbidding him from harming living beings didn’t apply to Chu Jinglan.

 

The rules wouldn’t intervene in whatever an Inner Demon did to its host.

 

Having finally thought of an effective solution, Xiao Mo immediately shared it with Chu Jinglan. On Xiao Mo’s back, Chu Jinglan paused for a moment before replying softly: “Alright.”

 

Using Xiao Mo’s spiritual pressure to help Chu Jinglan adapt was indeed a good idea. But it was surprising that neither of them had thought of it right away—they had spent time pondering before arriving at this conclusion.

 

The inherent opposition between an Inner Demon and its host was obvious, yet they had briefly overlooked it.

 

Xiao Mo sighed: “We’ve gone too long without hurting each other—we’re both getting dull.”

 

Though Xiao Mo had once joked about “having regular arguments” to boost his performance metrics, Chu Jinglan’s emotional state had been stable lately, and his points were steadily improving. There hadn’t been any need for arguments, so Xiao Mo hadn’t followed through on the idea.

 

Chu Jinglan didn’t bother refuting Xiao Mo’s comment. His gaze fell on Xiao Mo instinctively—cool and detached as usual—but this time, Chu Jinglan was on Xiao Mo’s back.

 

This meant his line of sight landed on Xiao Mo’s jet-black hair and a small section of his neck that resembled white jade.

 

The pale blue silk only covered half of Xiao Mo’s neck, leaving the rest exposed like delicately wrapped warm jade. The stark contrast between black hair and fair skin created an indescribable sense of beauty.

 

Even though he could only see part of it from the side, that neck was still dazzlingly white—enough to catch Chu Jinglan off guard.

 

Chu Jinglan: “…”

 

His gaze instantly lost its depth as he quickly looked away, fixing his eyes firmly on the ground beyond Xiao Mo’s shoulder.

 

Xiao Mo, having just solved one problem and pondering how to tackle another, noticed Chu Jinglan’s body stiffen slightly before falling silent.

 

Tilting his head curiously, Xiao Mo asked: “You’re not actually feeling unwell, are you? We’re not short on medicine right now.”

 

Chu Jinglan replied curtly: “No.”

 

Why is he leaning in so close? Chu Jinglan thought uncomfortably. It’s too near.

 

With no strength left in his body to move or sit upright, he couldn’t even create more distance between himself and Xiao Mo. All he could do was keep his gaze firmly locked onto the ground—refusing to let it wander no matter what.

 

Even Chu Jinglan himself didn’t understand why.

 

[Ding! Mental attack successful, points +10!]

 

The gain wasn’t much—but it was still progress.

 

Xiao Mo thought to himself: Was it just because of that “hurting each other” comment earlier?

 

Hmm, probably. I can’t think of any other reason.

 

Alright, so Chu Jinglan does silently complain about me in his heart sometimes. He didn’t refute me out loud earlier, but he must have muttered something internally—that’s why I gained points.

 

Case solved.

 

It didn’t bother Xiao Mo much. After all, everyone complains in their hearts occasionally. As an Inner Demon, he could metaphorically “hold a boat in his stomach”—he forgave him.

 

When they returned to the small wooden hut, Xiao Mo set Chu Jinglan down and had the system scan his physical condition. Half an hour later, Xiao Mo fed him another pill.

 

Chu Jinglan regained partial strength in his limbs. Propping himself up, he sat at the head of the bed and joined Xiao Mo in tackling their remaining problem: identifying flaws in Jing Lei’s techniques.

 

After discussing for a while without reaching any conclusions, there was a knock at the door.

 

Thanks to their earlier repairs, the door—once so fragile it seemed ready to collapse—was now sturdy enough to function properly and welcome visitors.

 

Xiao Mo opened the door to find Song Xuan standing outside.

 

Song Xuan smiled cheerfully: “Junior Brother Xiao.”

 

Xiao Mo stood inside the doorway with an equally bright smile: “Senior Brother Song.”

 

The two stood there exchanging pleasantries, both smiling warmly.

 

But Xiao Mo made no move to step aside or invite him in.

 

Song Xuan raised an eyebrow: “Not inviting me in for a seat?”

 

“There aren’t any chairs inside,” Xiao Mo replied sweetly. “I can’t let Senior Brother sit on the bed frame—that would be too disrespectful.”

 

Song Xuan was easygoing: “I don’t mind.”

 

Xiao Mo responded politely: “But I mind. Senior Brother may be magnanimous, but I’m petty. Compared to you, I feel ashamed.”

 

Song Xuan: “…”

 

He knew this wasn’t some innocent little bunny.

 

“Alright, alright,” Song Xuan said with a wave of his hand. “Want me to help you get a better room?”

 

Xiao Mo’s sharp ears picked up on the implication immediately: “Has Elder Jing Lei softened?”

 

Unsurprised by Xiao Mo’s perceptiveness, Song Xuan confirmed: “Yes. Good news—because Junior Brother Chu dared to accept his challenge at the mountain gate, Uncle Jing Lei has taken note of him. Starting tomorrow, if you don’t need your monthly stipend, you won’t have to report to the Affairs Hall at quarter past dawn for tasks anymore.”

 

“No need to change rooms,” Xiao Mo replied quickly. “In exchange, could Senior Brother tell us about Elder Jing Lei’s techniques?”

 

Song Xuan crossed his arms and looked at him with amusement: “Oh-ho—you’re aiming for that?”

 

“But even though you’re sweet-talking me with all these ‘Senior Brothers,’ I can’t help you with that. My advice is to go directly to him and test it yourself.”

 

He glanced into the room briefly before adding: “I’m good at reading people—Junior Brother Chu seems like he has a decent chance of getting the method eventually. But let me pour some cold water on your hopes first.”

 

Song Xuan explained: “Many major sects visited Yushan Sect in the past, and people speculated that they might have coerced or bribed their way into obtaining Jing Lei’s method. But actually, Uncle Jing Lei used to share it openly with them.”

 

“However, even after acquiring the method, not a single person dared to attempt it—and no one successfully repaired their dantian. Eventually, Uncle Jing Lei grew tired of dealing with them and set up all these strange rules. You should mentally prepare yourselves—there’s a chance the final result might not be what you hope for.”

 

Song Xuan’s words were genuinely well-intentioned, and Xiao Mo softened his expression in response. He sincerely said, “Thank you.”

 

“But it doesn’t matter. Even if this place doesn’t work out, we won’t lose hope.” Xiao Mo’s eyes seemed to glimmer with clarity and determination, like a flowing stream of light. “Chu Jinglan will definitely rebuild his dantian.”

 

Song Xuan couldn’t understand where Xiao Mo’s confidence came from. It wasn’t overwhelming or dramatic—just calm and natural, like a gentle breeze. Yet it was precisely this ease that made him stand out.

 

As Song Xuan shifted his gaze, he noticed Chu Jinglan also looking at Xiao Mo.

 

Song Xuan couldn’t help but smile.

 

“I haven’t asked yet—you two are brothers, right? You seem to get along really well.”

 

Their outward persona was indeed that of brothers. Xiao Mo hadn’t expected the topic to take this turn, but he nodded in agreement nonetheless.

 

Song Xuan patted him on the shoulder. “I look forward to seeing the next miracle. Anyway, I’ve said my piece—I’ll leave now. Are you sure you don’t want a better room?”

 

Xiao Mo wasn’t being polite when he replied: “No need—this place is quiet.”

 

It also made things more convenient for whatever they needed to do.

 

After Song Xuan left, Xiao Mo turned back and found Chu Jinglan staring at him intently. Walking over, Xiao Mo poked him lightly on the shoulder and said: “Lie down and rest for a while. By evening, you should be fully recovered.”

 

Following the push, Chu Jinglan lay back down. Staring at the wooden beams above him, he suddenly said: “Tonight, release your pressure—I’ll try to withstand it.”

 

Hearing this, Xiao Mo glanced at Chu Jinglan’s current state—still weak from earlier exertion. Today had been exhausting for Chu Jinglan; he wasn’t in a state of adrenaline-fueled determination anymore. Xiao Mo had assumed he would take the night to rest properly.

 

“Why the sudden urgency?” Xiao Mo asked.

 

“I don’t know,” Chu Jinglan replied calmly. “Since we’ve thought of it, we might as well act on it. Perhaps by moving forward with this, we’ll find a solution to something else as well.”

 

Chu Jinglan wasn’t impatient or flustered; his expression remained composed. Xiao Mo could tell that this wasn’t a rash decision born of desperation—it was deliberate and well-considered. Only then did he nod in agreement: “Alright.”

 

Chu Jinglan added: “I’ll rest for a bit first.”

 

“Mm,” Xiao Mo replied. “I’ll wake you up later.”

 

Chu Jinglan slowly closed his eyes.

 

Though he wasn’t anxious or agitated, there might have been a hint of impulsiveness in his decision.

 

Perhaps it was the overwhelming pressure from Jing Lei earlier that had made him acutely aware of the gap between a crippled cultivator and someone still in their prime. Or perhaps it was the image of Xiao Mo standing at the gate earlier—calm and unbothered, speaking with such casual confidence as though it were nothing more than a simple truth.

 

Yet that lighthearted tone had somehow made Chu Jinglan feel… invincible.

 

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1 Kofi = 1 Extra Chapter