Realization dawned on Yi Ming like a bolt of lightning cutting through the fog in his mind. He was the narrator of this novel. If that was true, surely he could come up with a name for the Great Grandmaster and it would stick, right? His palms grew clammy, and sweat rolled down the side of his temples. But if he could do that, wouldn't he have already rewritten Xue Tuzi and Shudu's personalities to have them match? Wouldn't Li Zhameng be the most formidable cultivator alive if Yi Ming had simply willed it?
He shook his head. No. This wasn't that kind of power. If he just came up with a random name and it wasn't the correct one, he'd be done for. His life would be forfeit. Which left him only one other option.
"I have to talk my way out of this," he muttered under his breath, clenching the hems of his sleeves with trembling hands.
Summoning what little courage he had left, Xue Laohu turned to face Elder Yanse. Her piercing gaze was locked on him, her sword tip unwavering as it hovered just a hair's breath from his face. He inhaled sharply, feeling his throat tighten as words fought to form. "I—" he started, then faltered, his voice cracking like dry leaves. He gripped his sleeves tighter, knuckles turning white. "I've forgotten Shizun's name."
The moment the words left his mouth, the room fell deathly silent. The silence was almost deafening, broken only by the faint, sharp gasp of several elders. Some even clutched their chests dramatically, as if he'd just delivered the most blasphemous statement in the history of their sect.
"Forgotten?" Elder Yanse's voice came low and menacing, but it trembled with the first stirrings of rage. Her sword inched closer to his throat, the cold steel grazing his skin. Her eyes narrowed to slits, burning with indignation. "You dare say you have forgotten?"
Yi Ming flinched but held his ground. He'd committed now; there was no turning back.
Elder Yanse's voice rose as she pressed further, each word laced with disbelief and fury. "It's been 587 years since Shizun's passing," she said, her voice trembling. Her grip on her sword tightened, her knuckles white as she struggled to hold back tears. "And you dare—dare—to say you have forgotten?!"
Xue Laohu could only stutter attempting to make an excuse for himself. "Five hundred and eighty-seven years!" Elder Yanse snapped. "Have you no shame?" Her voice cracked as her emotions overtook her. She looked like she was on the verge of breaking, but the anger in her eyes only burned brighter.
Yi Ming swallowed hard, his mind spiraling. Listen, lady, he thought miserably, I can't even remember what I had for breakfast six days ago, let alone something that happened 587 years ago. Not to mention, I wasn't even here!
Internally, he crouched down into the void of his own despair. I'm just a nineteen-year-old who wants to survive in this ridiculous world. Can't I catch a break? Though he was screaming and crumbling inwardly, outwardly, his face remained blank, his expression perfectly neutral. He bit down on his lower lip and forced himself to answer. "That's right," he said quietly. "I've forgotten."
For a brief moment, he allowed himself to hope. Maybe if I fake amnesia, I can get away with this.
That faint hope shattered the instant Elder Yanse's face twisted with fury. "How dare you!" she shrieked, her voice echoing through the chamber like a thunderclap. She lunged forward, her sword poised to strike straight at Xue Laohu.
Xue Tuzi's whip lashed out like a serpent, wrapping around Elder Yanse's blade just in time to halt her strike. The whip hissed as it coiled tighter, sparks flying where steel met leather. "Stay away from Shizun!" Xue Tuzi commanded, his voice sharp.
But the chaos only escalated. From the shadows, Elder Zhiwu and Elder Kuoyu stepped forward, their swords drawn and aimed at Xue Tuzi's throat. Their movements were calculated, their faces twisted with smug satisfaction. They had long held a vendetta against Xue Tuzi for humiliating their disciples in past conflicts, and now they saw their chance for revenge.
"Leave my disciples out of this!" Xue Laohu roared, flicking his wrist to loosen the tension in Xue Tuzi's whip. His voice carried authority, but it was clear even he was struggling to maintain control of the situation. "This is between me and Elder Yanse. No one else is to intervene!"
"But Shizun!" Xue Tuzi and Li Zhameng cried out in unison, their voices laden with worry. They stood frozen, their faces pale with fear as they watched the scene unfold.
The crowd parted in hushed anticipation, creating a wide circle as Xue Laohu and Elder Yanse squared off. The tension was thick, the weight of their clashing energies pressing down on the onlookers like a storm brewing on the horizon. Elder Yanse flicked her sword, her movements sharp and precise as she slid into a ready stance, the light catching the polished steel of her blade. Her expression was one of burning determination, her lips pressed into a thin, resolute line.
Meanwhile, Xue Laohu stood languidly in his place, a stark contrast to her intensity. Instead of drawing his sword, he calmly opened his ornate fan with a crisp snap, the silk fabric rippling as he fanned himself with deliberate ease. His bangs fluttered in the breeze he created, framing his face with an almost careless grace. He looked more like a leisurely scholar enjoying a summer breeze than a fighter preparing for combat.
"You are unworthy to call yourself Shizun's disciple!" Elder Yanse shouted, her voice raw with fury as she lunged forward. Her blade sliced through the air, a blur of deadly precision.
Xue Laohu moved like water, effortlessly sidestepping her strike and using his fan to deflect her attacks with an almost lazy grace. Each parry was precise, his movements fluid yet deliberate. Sparks erupted as her sword clashed with the fan's reinforced edges, which glowed faintly with the spiritual energy he had infused into it.
They exchanged over a hundred blows in a matter of moments, their movements so fast that their figures became a blur to the spectators. Elder Yanse was relentless, her strikes growing fiercer with each failed attempt to land a hit. Yet Xue Laohu remained calm, always a step ahead, his fan dancing in rhythm with her blade. His composure was unshaken, his brow untouched by sweat, as if this duel was nothing more than an amusing distraction.
Inwardly, Yi Ming sighed. I guess the amnesia argument didn't work, he thought as his fan intercepted another strike, the blade trembling against its edge but failing to break through.
"The real Xue Laohu would never disrespect Shizun!" Elder Yanse snarled through gritted teeth, her strikes coming faster and more furious, desperation creeping into her movements. Sparks flared again and again, illuminating the growing frustration on her face as he effortlessly blocked each blow.
"You're nothing but an imposter!" she spat, her voice breaking as she charged at him with all her might, her sword aiming straight for his chest.
But before her blade could find its mark, Xue Laohu flicked his fan with a sudden burst of spiritual energy. A powerful gust of wind erupted from it, sending Elder Yanse tumbling to the ground in an undignified heap. The force of the wind knocked the breath out of her, and before she could recover, Xue Laohu was on her, pinning her down with a swift, decisive motion.
"I have nothing to say because there is nothing to say," he declared, his voice cold and steady. His brows furrowed as his sharp gaze locked onto hers, the intensity in his eyes making her pause. He gripped her wrists firmly, forcing her to drop her sword, the blade clattering to the ground beside her.
"Shizun chose me as Grandmaster for a reason," he continued, his tone biting, each word a deliberate cut. His chest heaved with restrained anger as he leaned closer, pressing her wrists into the dirt to hold her in place. "Shizun wouldn't care for insignificant things like names. I was chosen because I am competent—free from any restraints. And you…"
His voice trailed off as his sharp gaze softened slightly. He noticed, for the first time, the faint blush dusting her cheeks. Her breaths came quickly, her lips parted as she squirmed beneath him. The position was intimate, far too intimate for either of their comfort. Xue Laohu hovered above her, his short, jagged hair barely brushing the bridge of her nose as he leaned closer.
A peculiar warmth spread through him, and his mind stumbled over a rumor he'd once overheard whispered around Sect Mount Dingbu. They said Elder Yanse was enamored with him, that her anger stemmed from something deeper, something unspoken.
His eyes roamed her face, almost involuntarily. Her delicate features were striking: her skin, soft and smooth like polished jade, caught the light just so. Her black hair, sleek as a raven's feathers, was splayed out messily beneath her. A small teardrop-shaped mole rested under her left eye, and her brows were furrowed, her eyes glossy with unshed tears as she glared at him defiantly.
She was exceptionally beautiful, not just in appearance but in spirit. Her talent with the sword was undeniable, her strength of will admirable. Xue Laohu—or rather, Yi Ming—felt an odd pang of regret. Why would the real Xue Laohu reject her? Why wouldn't he take her as a wife?
Perhaps, Yi Ming thought to himself, to be a Grandmaster, one must purge themselves of all desires, including love. He sighed inwardly, pushing aside the strange flutter in his chest as he focused on her struggling form beneath him.
"You're jealous because I wouldn't take you as my wife," he said sharply, his voice cold and cutting. But inwardly, he winced, his heart sinking into his stomach. I'm sorry, he cried internally. If I don't sacrifice your dignity, mine's on the line.
The air in the courtyard thickened as a collective gasp rippled through the gathered crowd. Xue Tuzi and Li Zhameng turned to one another, wide-eyed, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief. Elder Yanse's face, already flushed from exertion, deepened from a dusty rose to a vivid scarlet. She clenched her fists, her lips trembling in outrage.
"Preposterous!" she finally exclaimed, her voice sharp and trembling with fury. Summoning her strength, she drove her knee into Xue Laohu's stomach, forcing him to release her.
He stumbled back briefly but recovered with infuriating grace, spinning effortlessly on his heel and landing lightly as though her attack had been nothing more than a playful nudge. A smirk tugged at his lips as he raised his fan, angling it to cover part of his face, leaving only his piercing gaze visible. "Am I wrong?" he asked softly, his voice low and teasing, though his eyes betrayed a faint, almost imperceptible warmth as they lingered on her.
Elder Yanse patted down her robes hastily, trying to compose herself, but the fiery blush staining her cheeks betrayed her inner turmoil. Her hand trembled slightly as she straightened her posture, and for a fleeting moment, she seemed at a loss. Then, with a sharp inhale, she dove for her fallen sword, the steel flashing as she reclaimed it and launched herself toward him again.
Xue Laohu's smirk deepened. With a flick of his wrist, his fan intercepted her blade, the sheer force of the parry sending the sword flying from her grip. It clattered to the ground several feet away. The impact jarred her wrist, leaving a visible bruise blooming against her pale skin. She winced but refused to yield, snarling as she lunged toward him with open palms, her fingers poised to strike his face.
But he dodged her blows with effortless precision, his movements fluid and almost lazy, as though he were merely sidestepping a breeze. "Listen," he said calmly, his voice exuding an air of disinterest as he avoided her kicks and punches, "I don't want to hurt you." He exhaled deeply, his shoulders sinking as if to say this entire exchange was beneath him.
It became increasingly apparent to the spectators-and to Elder Yanse herself—that she was no match for him. He moved like a seasoned warrior, his instincts sharp and his defense impenetrable. Xue Laohu wasn't merely a fighter; he was a master.
Still, Elder Yanse refused to back down. Her breathing grew ragged, her chest heaving with the effort as she relentlessly pushed forward. With a desperate cry, she kicked up a cloud of dirt, sending it hurtling toward his face. Yet even this failed to faze him; he raised his fan, blocking the dirt with a casual flick, his movements as smooth as ever.
It was only when she darted behind him, seizing his arm and twisting it behind his back, that her persistence seemed to gain ground. Her free hand brandished a small blade, the edge glinting dangerously as she pressed it to his neck. For a moment, the crowd tensed, and even Xue Laohu's ever—calm demeanor wavered slightly.
And then he froze.
Her chest pressed against his back as she restrained him, the unexpected sensation sent a jolt down his spine. Boobs, his mind screamed in an almost comical panic. He swallowed hard, his composure cracking internally. He had never been this close to a woman—not like this. Not even in his past life in the modern world.
I'm such a loser, he lamented inwardly, flashes of his old life playing in his mind. In school, he had never worked up the courage to confess to the girls he liked, let alone go on a date. And now, here he was, locked in an intimate and highly inappropriate position with a woman who, according to rumor, had been in love with him for centuries.
What am I supposed to do here?!
The thought struck him like a blow: maybe, in another life, in another moment, if she hadn't accused him of being an imposter, things could have been different. But now, all of that was ruined. He had to prove himself as Grandmaster Xue Laohu.
Sighing deeply, he shifted his weight. With a practiced motion, he broke free of her grasp, knocking the blade from her hand with a calculated strike from his fan. He twisted her arm gently but firmly, flipping her back into a restrained position. This time, she had no escape.
"That's enough," a commanding voice rang out, cutting through the tension like a blade.
Sect Leader Mao stepped forward from the crowd, his expression calm but authoritative. Xue Laohu immediately released Elder Yanse, letting her drop to her knees as she gasped for air. She clutched her bruised wrist, her body trembling as she glared up at him, her face still red with humiliation and fury.
Xue Laohu, unfazed, straightened his robes with a quick flick of his wrist before snapping his fan open once more. He gave it a gentle wave, his expression hidden behind the silk as his sharp eyes observed Sect Leader Mao.
"You are indeed Grandmaster Xue Laohu. There's no doubt about it," Sect Leader Mao declared, his voice calm yet firm.
"Sect Leader Mao, how can you say that?" Elder Zhiwu interjected, his voice rising in disbelief.
"He didn't even fight back," Elder Kuoyu added, his tone accusatory.
"And it is precisely because of that, that I am certain he is no imposter," Sect Leader Mao said evenly. "He blocked every single one of Elder Yanse's moves with ease, without ever needing to draw his sword. Only one who has studied under the same Master could so perfectly anticipate her techniques, deflecting them as though they were second nature."
Xue Laohu's eyes widened ever so slightly at the words, though he quickly concealed his surprise behind his fan. He remained silent, his expression unreadable as Sect Leader Mao's reasoning settled over the crowd like a heavy weight.
Second nature, Yi Ming thought, his heart racing. I didn't even realize... Elder Yanse had used multiple secret techniques, techniques that only their Shizun could have taught. And yet, he had deflected them all effortlessly, without a single moment of hesitation. The realization sent a shiver down his spine.
Was this lingering muscle memory from the original Xue Laohu? Or was there something deeper at play? Whatever the case, Yi Ming couldn't afford to dwell on it now. He closed his fan with a snap, before his eyes made their way to Elder Yanse.
His sharp eyes flickered toward her, observing her struggle to rise a faint worry plagued his face. Before he could move, Xue Tuzi and Li Zhameng sprinted to his side, their robes fluttering in their haste.
"Shizun!" they cried out in unison, their voices filled with worry.
"Shizun, are you okay?" Xue Tuzi asked, grasping his master's wrist as he quickly began checking his meridians. His brow furrowed in concentration, his worry obvious.
Meanwhile, Li Zhameng clung to Xue Laohu's arm, his face streaked with tears. "Shizun, you shouldn't push yourself so hard! What if something happened to you?" he fretted, his voice trembling.
Xue Laohu exhaled softly, shaking his head as a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "I'm fine," he assured them, his tone calm but warm. "I'm lucky to have such good disciples." He tilted his head, his gaze playful as he added, "Hopefully, someday you two won't forget my name." He winked, his lips curving into a teasing grin.
Xue Tuzi frowned, his concern unabated. Li Zhameng, still sniffling, looked like he wanted to protest, but Xue Laohu gently patted his shoulder before stepping away. His focus shifted back to Elder Yanse, who was still on the ground, her pride visibly bruised as she tried—and failed—to push herself upright.
He crouched beside her, his movements deliberate and steady. With a gentleness that contrasted with his earlier sharp words, he slipped an arm under hers, lifting her slightly. Her eyes locked onto his, fierce and defiant despite the embarrassment coloring her cheeks.
"Stop being so stubborn," he sighed, shaking his head. His voice carried a mix of exasperation and softness as he held her wrist, channeling a steady flow of his spiritual energy into her meridians. A faint glow emanated from his hand as the energy flowed into her, soothing her injuries and replenishing her strength.
Elder Yanse turned her face away, strands of her dark hair falling across her flushed cheeks. Her defiance remained, but her posture softened slightly under his touch.
"So, tell me," he said, his voice low and almost coaxing, "what was Shizun's name?"
Her brow arched as she turned her gaze toward him, suspicion and sadness flickering in her eyes. "Have you really forgotten?" she asked, her voice quieter now, tinged with something raw and vulnerable.
Xue Laohu hesitated before nodding, his brows furrowing as his expression shifted into something somber. "I… I don't remember," he admitted, his voice heavy with sincerity. "But I want to. I want to remember Shizun's name. So, please."
His gaze bore into hers, earnest and pleading. For a moment, her eyes softened as though she might relent. But then she pouted, rolling her eyes with a huff and turning her head away once more.
"I'm not telling," she said, her tone firm despite the faint curve of amusement tugging at her lips.
Xue Laohu blinked, stunned. "What? Why?" he whined, his voice breaking into a boyish complaint.
Her lips curved into a small smile as she closed her eyes, ignoring his protests.