Chapter 2: Flower High Atop a Mountain

The air seemed to fall still for a moment. Lin Shijin could clearly feel the frail youth propped against the wall look over at him, cold eyes carrying a trace of shadow.

Lin Shijin: “…” What an enormous misunderstanding.

He had come here to save someone!

At this moment he truly didn’t know whether to call Xue Ning thick-skinned, thicker-skinned, or simply shameless, for actually saying something like that.

“You’ve got the wrong idea,” Lin Shijin said, a little embarrassed. He hadn’t expected Xue Ning to be this alert; he had only moved slightly and had already been noticed. That was the difference in strength.

He had virtually no chance of winning against Xue Ning as he was now.

“Oh?” Xue Ning drew out the sound with layered meaning. “You weren’t looking to join in, and instead you came to save someone?”

How was he meant to choose between those two options?

Lin Shijin met Sheng Rufei’s gaze. Sheng Rufei’s eyes had been on him from the moment he appeared, making him even more uncomfortable.

Usually, he and Sheng Rufei hardly interacted. Although they lived in neighbouring courtyards, their relationship was no different to that between ordinary disciples. They were extremely distant.

He knew perfectly well how Sheng Rufei was regarded by everyone: aloof, self-disciplined, restrained and calm; a model among the disciples, existing like a flower high atop a mountain.

And now that lofty flower was leaning weakly against the wall, looking nothing like his usual self. He had no doubt guessed how Xue Ning had just humiliated him; Lin Shijin had heard it all.

Lin Shijin himself did not think much of it, but Sheng Rufei certainly would.

He shook his head. Now was not the time to worry about Sheng Rufei’s thoughts; he needed to figure out how to get him out first.

“I came here to hide from a demonic beast. When I saw the two of you just now… is there some misunderstanding between you and… sixteenth shixiong*?”

(*TN: elder martial brother.)

He phrased it tactfully. After all, he couldn’t very well say directly, “How dare you try to take liberties with shixiong. I’ll tell Shizun*!” If he said that, Xue Ning might kill him to shut him up.

(*TN: teacher, master.)

This was not the time for threats.

“There is indeed a misunderstanding,” Xue Ning said with a soft laugh. “Didn’t you hear? I said I was going to… do your shixiong right here.”

Lin Shijin didn’t even have time to gape. His vision blurred, and in the next second he was no longer where he had been.

His sword had been flung aside; two cords now bound his wrists, tying them together. He found himself placed beside Sheng Rufei.

It was the first time he had ever been this close to Sheng Rufei. He could almost smell the faint, cool fragrance on him. It was like a cold wind carrying fallen plum blossoms over snow.

Xue Ning looked down at him. “You’ve practised the sword for a single month, and you still want to play the hero?”

“I’ll spare your life for now. Since you enjoy watching so much, you can stand by and watch.”

…What did he mean, he enjoyed watching?

Lin Shijin felt as though a tiny version of himself was coughing blood inside his heart. His wrists were tied fast; this time he had not only failed to save anyone, but had got himself dragged in as well.

He caught the faint smell of blood and turned his head to look at the “little chick” he had failed to steal. Seeing Sheng Rufei’s face up close was even more of a shock: the youth’s features were cool and finely drawn, the tail of his eyes curving with an almost startling hint of colour. His lips were pale. Because he was injured, Xue Ning hadn’t tied him.

The blood came from Sheng Rufei’s palm. His cold, white fingers gripped the sword blade itself, the flesh of his palm split open, dark red blood spilling and staining the wall.

Lin Shijin’s heart leapt into his throat. He had no idea why Sheng Rufei was doing this. Sheng Rufei’s condition looked wrong; even sitting upright seemed to cost him great effort.

Perhaps he had been struck by something of Xue Ning’s, and was now cutting himself in order to recover more quickly.

That hardly seemed necessary.

Lin Shijin had already noticed that Xue Ning also had a Binding Immortal Curse on him. He had seen it by chance in the Library Pavilion: the Binding Immortal Curse was an incantation which could be used as a talisman or activated by chanting.

But chanting it was extremely complex and might not even work; he could only try.

While he muttered the incantation, Sheng Rufei still held the sharp blade beside him. Xue Ning glanced at the two of them by the wall and gave a low laugh.

“No need to struggle. With your shidi here watching, how does it feel?”

Lin Shijin pretended he didn’t exist. He could feel the youth beside him grow even colder, his eyes like shards of ice capable of freezing a man on the spot.

He continued chanting, and faintly saw the Binding Immortal talisman in Xue Ning’s robes give off a weak glow. His heart leapt. Looks like it’s working!

Yet Xue Ning had taken only two steps towards them when his expression changed. He glanced at the two of them, said, “I’ll come back and take care of you all later,” set up a barrier on the spot, and disappeared.

The cave was suddenly empty save for the two of them.

Lin Shijin’s chant broke off halfway, but Xue Ning’s departure was only to their advantage. Their situation was awkward, but there was no time for embarrassment. They needed to escape.

“Sixteenth shixiong?” he called tentatively. He was clearly older than Sheng Rufei, yet he had to address him as shixiong. It was rather mortifying, but Sheng Rufei had joined the sect earlier.

Sheng Rufei slowly released his grip on the sword. His blood-stained fingertips brushed Lin Shijin’s wrists, and he felt the ropes slacken as the bindings fell away.

His breathing was heavy, his face ashen, white hair scattered at his shoulders. “Let’s leave first,” he said.

Lin Shijin’s wrists still ached. He got to his feet, retrieved the sword that had been thrown aside, and turned. Sheng Rufei was already barely holding himself upright, his robes soaked with blood.

He tried to support him. Sheng Rufei lifted his eyelids to look at him.

“Why are you here?”

“I’ve been here the whole time,” Lin Shijin admitted, embarrassed. “I was here before you arrived. Shizun sent me down the mountain to train, but I couldn’t beat the demonic beasts, so I hid here.”

Sheng Rufei said nothing.

Lin Shijin noticed a wound on Sheng Rufei’s shoulder, looking as though it had been clawed by a beast. He carefully avoided it, supporting the other shoulder with one hand while lifting him with the other.

As he helped him up, Lin Shijin realised Sheng Rufei was weaker than he had imagined. His clothes were soaked with blood; supporting him was harder than expected. Sheng Rufei was taller and heavier than he looked.

The original owner of this body had been delicate and frail. Lin Shijin had noticed that the moment he transmigrated. Not a single scar on him; though the original owner looked exactly like him, he had been far more pampered.

Lin Shijin immediately noticed the blood spreading across Sheng Rufei’s chest. He asked awkwardly, “Your wounds on your body. Are you alright?”

He certainly didn’t look alright, but this wasn’t the time to treat injuries. They had to wait until they were back; if Xue Ning returned, they were finished.

Thinking this, he looked up and met Sheng Rufei’s eyes. Sheng Rufei lowered his gaze slightly; his brown irises were beautiful, and when he looked down at someone they seemed so deep one couldn’t see through them.

Lin Shijin knew Sheng Rufei was usually a man of few words.

“It’s nothing.” The cold, youthful voice was now hoarse from injury.

“The barrier here needs breaking. Xue Ning will return.”

Lin Shijin struggled to support him towards the cave entrance. He remembered there were still demonic beasts nearby, and wondered if they had been dealt with.

They had taken only a few steps when the barrier at the cave mouth rippled. Xue Ning had returned.

“What exactly are you two doing?” came a chilling voice from behind.

Lin Shijin heard it and felt a chill down his spine. He loosened his grip in fright, quickly steadying Sheng Rufei… but his fingers accidentally brushed Sheng Rufei’s wound.

At the touch, the blood on his chest darkened instantly. Sheng Rufei’s brows drew together; his face turned even paler, but he made no sound.

Xue Ning still had wet blood on his sword, and splashes of it on his face added a wicked edge to his features. Seeing the two of them looking as though they were clinging to each other, his anger was obvious.

“Trying to run?”

He advanced step by step. Lin Shijin’s heart raced; sweat broke out across his forehead as he hurriedly muttered the incantation, praying the Binding Immortal curse would work.

But before he could finish, a flash of silver streaked past. The silver-white sword on the ground soared straight towards Xue Ning, flashing with icy light.

—It was Sheng Rufei’s famed sword, Yinbing.

He heard the sound of a blade piercing flesh. His eyelids twitched violently. Sheng Rufei hadn’t killed him outright, had he?!

As though sensing his thoughts, Sheng Rufei drew the sword back into his hand and said coldly, “He won’t die.”

In the original novel, the two words used most often for Xue Ning were sturdy brute. He harassed Sheng Rufei incessantly, like an indestructible cockroach; he had nearly had his cultivation crippled several times.

Lin Shijin let out a breath of relief. He trusted Sheng Rufei’s own judgement more.

He turned and saw Xue Ning collapsed on the ground, his grip slackened on his sword, face pale, eyes glaring at them darkly and viciously.

Xue Ning coughed blood, but even lying down he couldn’t resist acting arrogant. He sneered, “You two little bitches… just you wait.”

Lin Shijin: “…” He had been worried the man would die, but now it seemed it might be better if Sheng Rufei had simply stabbed him through.

He supported Sheng Rufei out. Only after they broke through the barrier did he ask, “Your injuries… shall we return to the sect first?”

Their mission to slay the beast should be just about complete; returning early shouldn’t be a problem.

“You can fly a sword?” Sheng Rufei asked. His already pale face now bore an unhealthy flush, and his lips were turning brighter.

Lin Shijin didn’t notice. Of course he couldn’t fly a sword. If Sheng Rufei had paid him even the slightest attention, he would know Lin Shijin was hopeless at swordplay and had never learnt sword-flight.

“I can’t, I……” Lin Shijin’s words were cut short as his body suddenly grew heavier. The youth before him had fainted.