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AVL Chapter 37

New Blossoms on the Branch

“Sheng Jiao.”

 

The young Xi Jue, dressed in warm yellow robes, rested his chin on the window sill, watching the osmanthus blossoms knocked down by the heavy rain outside, and drawled lazily, “What does thunder mean?”

 

Outside, the wind and rain howled, thunder booming, but the room was quiet and warm.

 

Sheng Jiao sat at the desk practicing calligraphy, acting as if Xi Jue didn’t exist, not saying a word.

 

“Is it for intimidation? Fear? Surprise? Arguments? Fighting?”

 

Xi Jue guessed at random, but when he got no reply, he stomped back and slapped the table: “Hey, I’m talking to you! Stop practicing your stupid calligraphy!”

 

Sheng Jiao was just finishing the last character when the thunder made his brush slip, ruining the whole piece.

 

He didn’t get angry, just neatly stacked the ruined paper aside and started over.

 

Xi Jue fumed: “Blockhead, I must be really bored to come find you—playing with Rang Chen is way more fun than you!”

 

With that, he flounced out.

 

Sheng Jiao, holding his brush, hesitated for a long while without writing, then glanced expressionlessly out the window.

 

Lightning flashed and thunder roared deafeningly. Xi Jue’s small figure ran through the rain—apparently his rain-repelling spell hadn’t worked properly, and the downpour soaked him like a drowned rat.

 

Xi Jue paused for a moment, then burst out laughing. He simply stopped trying to cast spells and ran happily out of the dormitory, splashing through puddles and listening to the thunder.

 

Like a little fox running in the rain.

 

Sheng Jiao watched intently until the figure disappeared, only then coming back to himself.

 

Ink dripped from his brush tip onto the white paper.

 

The calligraphy was ruined before he’d even begun.

 

Raindrops fell into the pond, creating countless interwoven ripples.

 

Back then, Sheng Jiao had almost believed little Xi Jue loved listening to thunder.

 

During some year’s Qixi Festival, rain poured down and thunder seemed to tear the sky apart, nearly splitting the towering tree by the pond.

 

Sheng Jiao stood by the pond holding an umbrella, silently staring at the rippled water surface.

 

Even as night fell, the heavy rain continued. Behind him came the rapid sound of footsteps.

 

Sheng Jiao’s grip on the umbrella tightened, the jade stones hidden in his sleeve nearly burning his palm.

 

He turned expressionlessly, only to see a soaked Feng Yu running over in panic.

 

“Sheng—Sheng Jiao!”

 

Sheng Jiao was startled.

 

In all their years as classmates, Feng Yu had never initiated conversation with Sheng Jiao.

 

But now Feng Yu rushed over like a headless fly, hastily wiping water from his face and saying urgently, “Sheng Jiao! Xi Jue… he seems to have lost his soul from being startled by thunder!”

 

Sheng Jiao’s vacant pupils contracted sharply.

 

Xi Jue had never feared thunder—on the contrary, every summer storm, he would study the thunder sounds with great interest.

 

But after that Qixi Festival, he began to fear thunder.

 

Every time he heard it, his soul would leave his body, and everyone at Zhuxing Zhai would have to search for ages to find him.

 

Everyone at Zhuxing Zhai knew soul-fixing spells, just in case Xi Jue lost his soul again.

 

Wind and rain darkened Xiezhi Sect.

 

Sheng Jiao’s face was extremely grim as he raised his hand and used spiritual power to forcibly seal all of Xiezhi Sect with a barrier.

 

Juan Xunfang and Shang Yuan, hearing the commotion, hurried over and, seeing Sheng Jiao safe, rushed to greet him.

 

“Sect Master!”

 

Sheng Jiao frowned: “What is it?”

 

Juan Xunfang was concise: “Someone just tried to destroy Shentian She—likely the spy you mentioned that other families planted in Xiezhi Sect. Shang Yuan and I have captured them, awaiting your orders.”

 

Sheng Jiao nodded hastily, cradling the soaked Xi Jianlan in his arms and giving cold orders.

 

“Seal Shentian She first.”

 

Shang Yuan was about to ask what to do with the others when Juan Xunfang pulled her back.

 

Xi Jue was clearly in trouble—how could the sect master have time to deal with those people?

 

They’d handle it later.

 

Feng Yu was already skillfully using ghosts to search for Xi Jianlan’s soul, wherever it had wandered, but the constant thunder gave him a headache and made him so irritated he nearly tore up his paper figures.

 

Suddenly, a thunderclap a hundred times stronger than before split the dark sky, distorting space and nearly tearing a massive gash in the heavens.

 

Feng Yu’s head buzzed from the shock, and he barely avoided being deafened by covering his ears.

 

That was clearly no ordinary thunder. As Feng Yu recovered and was about to curse at Sheng Jiao, he looked up to see that the dark clouds above Xiezhi Sect had been completely scattered by a bolt of heavenly thunder summoned by the Tianyan pearls.

 

The thick clouds and heavy rain instantly ceased, and brilliant sunlight broke through, illuminating Xiezhi Sect in moments.

 

Feng Yu was dumbstruck.

 

This…

 

Was Sheng Jiao’s cultivation really just Void Return realm?!

 

Sheng Jiao carried Xi Jianlan and strode away.

 

Xi Jianlan was unprecedentedly docile, curled quietly in Sheng Jiao’s arms, eyes vacant and unfocused. He’d kept them open too long, and tears rolled uncontrollably down his lashes, streaking his face.

 

Sheng Jiao held him tighter and hurried back to his quarters at Xiezhi Sect.

 

Qingche Zhu, to put it nicely, was quiet and elegant; to put it harshly, it was simply and sparsely furnished. Looking around, it was empty except for a desk, a bed, and a large screen separating the inner and outer rooms—hardly different from a Xiezhi Sect prison cell.

 

The torrential rain had knocked all the flowers and leaves from the largest osmanthus tree in the courtyard, leaving the branches bare and making the scene even more desolate.

 

Sheng Jiao used spiritual power to dry the rainwater from Xi Jianlan’s body and clumsily placed him gently on the hard stone bed.

 

Xi Jianlan was so thin that holding him felt no different from six years ago—one could imagine how much he’d suffered all these years.

 

Even so, he’d always put on a cheerful face, as if he could suppress any amount of pain and force out fake smiles to placate all sorts of old acquaintances.

 

—Including Sheng Jiao.

 

Sheng Jiao forcibly suppressed the ripples in his heart and pressed his fingers to Xi Jianlan’s back shoulder, gradually activating the Tianyan pearl fused into his bones and blood.

 

Tiny sparks of tingling sensation slowly spread through Xi Jianlan’s meridians, making his eyes suddenly widen.

 

Still thinking this was the humiliation of the brand, he moaned in pain, his hands clawing randomly, using his sharp nails to cover the “Zhuo” character thunder pattern in extreme rejection, as if he didn’t want anyone to see it.

 

“No, no… please… wu no.”

 

Sheng Jiao’s hand stiffened. He forcibly held Xi Jianlan down, closing his eyes and using his divine soul’s connection with the Tianyan pearl to try to locate Xi Jianlan’s soul.

 

But soul-wandering was different from soul-loss—Xi Jianlan’s three souls and seven spirits had already left his body, losing all connection to his physical form.

 

What remained here was just an empty shell.

 

Sheng Jiao frowned and withdrew his hand. The thunder pattern slowly faded back to a red mole, and only then did the pain in Xi Jianlan’s expression subside, his eyes lowering vacantly.

 

Soon, Feng Yu sent a ghost to report.

 

“Can’t find him.”

 

Sheng Jiao said coldly, “How can you not find him?”

 

He had already sealed Xiezhi Sect—in just a few breaths, those three souls and seven spirits couldn’t have gone far.

 

“But I just can’t find him!” Feng Yu was extremely agitated. “Usually when he loses his soul, it’s at Zhuxing Zhai. That place is small, and he only likes to stay under your osmanthus tree, so two out of three times we find him right away. But your Xiezhi Sect is so big, with so many prison cells—he’s unfamiliar with the place, where could he go?”

 

Sheng Jiao was stunned, suddenly seeming to remember something, and abruptly turned to leave.

 

The Xiezhi Sect prison was like a circular fortress, surrounded on all sides by tall prison towers dozens of stories high. In the center courtyard below was also a Xiezhi stone statue that constantly patrolled the corridors with clicking sounds, intimidating the prisoners.

 

Sheng Jiao’s face was grim as he used the sect master’s token to open the prison, skillfully walking to the twelfth floor and stopping beside a cell that had been empty for six years.

 

Looking through the cold iron bars, he could see three cold stone walls, gruesome bloodstains on the floor, a narrow high window—and in the corner, a soul curled into a tiny ball, hugging its knees and crying softly.

 

In that instant, Sheng Jiao didn’t know what to feel.

 

He was too dull, his emotions almost completely destroyed by Shentian She’s thunder punishment. Even if his heart split open, he wouldn’t know what heartbreak meant.

 

Sheng Jiao suppressed his trembling hands and gently opened the cell, slowly walking in.

 

Xi Jianlan’s soul seemed frozen at age twelve, his thin form curled in the corner hiding—you’d hardly notice him without looking carefully.

 

Hearing footsteps, little Xi Jue looked up with a tear-streaked face, staring blankly.

 

This cell was cramped, the window only a palm’s width, letting in light for just half a moment each day.

 

Xi Jue had spent three months here.

 

Sheng Jiao silently approached, kneeling on one knee before the soul that seemed ready to shatter at a touch, extending his large hand.

 

Xi Jue tilted his head to look at him, and after a while asked in a childish voice, “Has the rain stopped?”

 

Sheng Jiao was startled and said, “Yes.”

 

“Father and Mother said when the rain stops, they’d let me go out and play.” Xi Jue, not knowing what year it was, said this happily, then fell into brief confusion. “But the rain… the rain never stopped. You’re lying to me.”

 

Sheng Jiao said softly, “No.”

 

“What does thunder mean?” Xi Jue asked the same question as years ago. “I don’t understand.”

 

Sheng Jiao said, “Intimidation? Fear?”

 

“No.” Xi Jue shook his head. “That’s not it.”

 

Sheng Jiao didn’t understand what he meant and extended his hand further: “It’s not thundering outside anymore. I’ll take you away.”

 

But Xi Jue looked at him warily: “I don’t want to.”

 

Sheng Jiao’s hand froze.

 

Just then, a ray of sunlight finally streamed down from the narrow high window, falling directly on Sheng Jiao’s palm.

 

The warm sunlight was too dazzling. Little Xi Jue gasped and finally emerged from the corner, crawling to Sheng Jiao’s side on hands and knees, reaching out to catch the light.

 

The small hand fell into Sheng Jiao’s large palm, and he gently closed his fingers, forcibly grasping it.

 

Xi Jue instinctively wanted to escape, but then seemed to smell something and crawled forward to sniff at Sheng Jiao’s collar.

 

Sheng Jiao looked down at him.

 

“It’s osmanthus fragrance.”

 

Xi Jue suddenly broke into a smile, saying brightly.

 

He was no longer wary or resistant, as if he’d found a harbor to depend on, obediently letting Sheng Jiao hold his hand as they walked slowly through that ray of sunlight out of the dusty cell.

 

Just as they stepped out, Xi Jue seemed to remember something and turned to look back.

 

Sheng Jiao’s hand suddenly covered his eyes.

 

Xi Jue mumbled, “What?”

 

“Nothing worth seeing. Let’s go.”

 

Xi Jue was easily coaxed, saying “Oh” and walking forward obediently.

 

From beginning to end, he indeed never looked back.

 

Sheng Jiao carried little Xi Jue all the way back to Qingche Zhu.

 

Thanks to a strand of spiritual power’s nourishment, the osmanthus tree that had been stripped bare was already growing new leaves.

 

Fallen flowers and leaves on the ground, new blossoms on the branches.

 

The moment he smelled the osmanthus fragrance, the soul in Sheng Jiao’s arms suddenly dispersed, transforming into a stream of light that flew into the inner room.

 

Sheng Jiao didn’t go in, looking up at the branches.

 

The rain had stopped.

 

He suddenly wanted to pick an osmanthus branch for him.

 

Feng Yu sat by the bedside, almost ready to cry at a funeral, when Xi Jianlan, who had been quiet all along, suddenly choked violently, struggling to lean against the hard bedside and coughing heart-wrenchingly.

 

His soul had finally returned.

 

Feng Yu was instantly overjoyed: “I thought you were really going to die this time!”

 

Xi Jianlan finally stopped coughing, his face wet with tear tracks. Barely alive, feeling like he’d coughed up his organs, he said weakly, “Can’t you say something auspicious?”

 

Feng Yu completely relaxed, crossing his legs and saying irritably, “Tsk, I’m from a ghost-taming family—auspicious words are what I’m worst at.”

 

Xi Jianlan rolled his eyes.

 

Soul-wandering once caused great damage to both spirit and body. Already severely injured, he now looked truly near death.

 

Xi Jianlan weakly fumbled around his waist, seeming to look for something.

 

Feng Yu helped him: “Looking for what?”

 

“Wooden… wooden doll.”

 

Feng Yu mercilessly flipped the immobile Xi Jianlan over, nearly smashing his face into the cold stone bed. After finding the wooden doll at his back, he flipped Xi Jianlan back like an object.

 

“Here you go.”

 

Xi Jianlan: “…”

 

Xi Jianlan’s nose and forehead were red from the impact, and he looked ready to devour someone.

 

Even in this weakened state, he remained true to his nature, using all his strength to break off the wooden doll’s limbs one by one, venting his frustration.

 

As Xi Jianlan snapped the doll with cracking sounds, he stared straight at Feng Yu, his pale lips making him look like a vengeful ghost.

 

Feng Yu: “…”

 

A bit… creepy.

 

Sheng Jiao came from outside, not entering the inner room but casting a shadowy silhouette behind the screen.

 

 

“Let’s go to the Medicine Sect.”

 

Xi Minghuai was the only clue to the Xi family massacre, and his madness needed to be cured quickly.

 

Xi Jianlan’s broken body was already difficult to heal, and now he’d suffered the trauma of soul-wandering. If they didn’t go to the Medicine Sect soon, he might die on the way.

 

Xi Jianlan glanced at Sheng Jiao through the screen, saying weakly, “Tomorrow. I don’t want to move today.”

 

Feng Yu rolled up his sleeves and volunteered, “How delicate. Fine, this young master will condescend to carry you. Luckily the Medicine Sect isn’t far from Xiezhi Sect—we can fly there in moments.”

 

“Too bumpy,” Xi Jianlan started being difficult again. “Put a phoenix down cloak on your shoulders before carrying me.”

 

Feng Yu: “……”

 

Feng Yu was so irritated he wanted to curse, but seeing Xi Jianlan’s deathly pale face, he swallowed his anger: “Fine, fine, I’ll get a crane cloak for my shoulders to make sure it doesn’t bump the Young Immortal Lord’s precious body.”

 

Xi Jianlan was still picky: “I don’t like your smell either. Go get some incense to perfume yourself.”

 

Feng Yu said gently, “Xi Jue, don’t go anywhere—just die on this bed.”

 

Xi Jianlan: “……”

 

Xi Jianlan looked at him with disdain, his eyes clearly saying “Some brother you are, can’t even fulfill this small request? Useless.”

 

Feng Yu said, “Where’s my blade? Where’s my ghost blade?!”

 

Just as they were about to start fighting, Sheng Jiao couldn’t stand it anymore. He walked around the screen, wrapped Xi Jianlan in a black cloak like a cocoon with a face like still water, picked him up without ceremony, and turned to leave.

 

Simple and brutal, with no pity for the delicate Young Immortal Lord’s “precious body.”

 

Feng Yu waited for the spoiled brat to complain.

 

But the spoiled Xi brat just looked up at Sheng Jiao for a while, smelling the fresh osmanthus fragrance, pressed his lips together, nestled his head into Sheng Jiao’s neck, and obediently let himself be carried away.

 

No complaints about bumps, no complaints about lack of incense.

 

Said nothing at all.

 

Feng Yu: “…………”

 

 

Author’s note:

 

Feng Yu: Why?! Why?! Why?!

 

##


 


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Comment

  1. Erica Nuitari says:

    Great ! Their story is getting more and more tragic :’) I’m starting believe with this thunder detail and the “sound of killing” thing, Xi Jue’s power seems it’s related to hearing.

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