The Fire-Driving Talisman was incredibly potent. The moment it touched the bamboo walls, a wave of flames roared to life, and the crackling of dry bamboo splinters instantly erupted.
In the blink of an eye, the two neighboring bamboo huts were engulfed in crimson fire, a wave of heat carrying the faint scent of bamboo rushing toward them.
The person who had just entered the house emerged from the swaying shadows of the fire, holding a few ancient books he had managed to salvage. Accustomed to this behavior, he walked over to Song Yao's side, tilting his head slightly with a touch of helplessness. “You really burned it down? Aren't you going to sleep tonight?”
Song Yao nodded. “Yes, I really burned it. And no, I'm not sleeping.”
Fusheng asked again, “Will burning down the house make our Yao'ao feel a bit better?”
Song Yao didn't understand why he was asking such a bizarre question. She didn't answer, choosing only to correct him: “I am Lin Mu, not Yao'ao.”
“Very well, Lin Mu.”
Her master still didn't show the slightest hint of anger. He walked over to the stone table, set down the ancient books, and waited for the fire to burn itself out. With a casual wave of his hand, he cleared away the messy debris and sent out a voice transmission.
Before long, the Third Elder rode the wind and hastily landed on Mingjing Peak. Seeing the barren peak, he froze for a moment, feeling momentarily disoriented.
How strange.
He remembered building bamboo huts here before, didn't he?
Where were they?
Had the great battle with Ye Chongguang swept the bamboo huts away?
Or had the people of the Beiyao Sect carried them off?
Filled with doubts, he glanced toward the only remaining object on the open ground—a stone table.
Beside the stone table, Fusheng sat upright, looking down as he flipped through an ancient book. As a gentle breeze swept past, the scene appeared rather desolate and lonely.
The Third Elder hurriedly stepped forward and bowed, his voice tinged with shock and confusion. “Greetings, Hall Master—no, Supreme Elder. What... what is going on here?”
Hearing his voice, Fusheng slowly closed the book and looked up. His tone was calm as he replied, “It is nothing serious. The houses were accidentally lost. If you have some free time, gather a few disciples to build two more bamboo huts.”
The Third Elder: “?”
What did he mean by “the houses were lost”?
How on earth did one lose a house?
He found himself completely unable to follow.
Suddenly, a lazy, weary voice rang out from the side: “I want a five-story one.”
The Third Elder followed the sound and saw Song Yao leaning lazily against an old tree trunk. One of her legs dangled in the air, swinging back and forth. Her eyes drooped with sleepiness, and her shoulders were completely relaxed.
Her aura was so weak that he hadn't even noticed another person was present.
The Third Elder recalled something, and his expression instantly stiffened. His face became slightly complicated, and he stood frozen in place.
He only snapped out of it when Fusheng asked from the side, “Can it be done?”
The Third Elder quickly bowed and replied, “Y-Yes, of course. It can be done today.”
“My apologies for the trouble.”
...
Building a few bamboo huts was incredibly simple for an artifact cultivator; there was no need to even call other disciples for help. Within just an hour, a brand-new, five-story bamboo house stood tall atop Mingjing Peak.
The Third Elder bowed to Fusheng once more. Before leaving, he couldn't help but steal another glance at Song Yao.
As soon as he left, Fusheng picked up the ancient books and stood up to head inside.
Glancing sideways, he saw Song Yao pulling out two more Fire-Driving Talismans. His steps halted, and he walked back to the stone table to set the books down again.
Then, he walked over to the tree and asked for her opinion with immense patience, “Aren't you sleepy? You need a place to rest and sleep. Since you've already burned it once today, let's hold off for now. You can burn it again tomorrow, all right?”
Song Yao didn't say yes or no. She sat up on the branch, looked down at him, and gave an irrelevant answer: “Are you keeping me here because you want the elders to put me on trial again, so they can send me back to the Earth Realm?”
“...”
Fusheng's movements stiffened slightly. His lowered eyelashes trembled for a fraction of a second, and his fingers curled slightly inside his sleeve.
When he looked up again, the turbulent emotions in his eyes had been completely suppressed. “Yao'ao, no one will ever send you to the Earth Realm again.”
Song Yao let out a scoffing laugh. She twirled the Fire-Driving Talisman between her fingers in a beautiful arc. The dappled shadows of the bamboo fell across her face, obscuring her expression. “Hall Master Fu—no, Supreme Elder, you've lived so many more years than Zhu Zhao, so why are you just as naive as she is?”
“The Third Elder clearly recognized me just now, and the other elders have surely found out by now as well. They've already sent me to the Earth Realm once. Now that they know who I am, wouldn't they want to send me back?”
When she said this, Song Yao felt she didn't have much emotion or resentment; she was simply stating a fact.
Yet, an inexplicable bitterness welled up in her mouth.
Popping two pieces of osmanthus candy into her mouth to suppress the taste, she sighed. “Fine, I know that letting me just walk away would look bad for you all. How about I take a step back? You can just send me straight to the Earth Realm. Let's get it over with in one go so we don't have to keep messing around. How about it?”
“...”
The wind swept past the stone table, carrying the scent of burnt bamboo and gently rustling the corners of the book pages.
Song Yao was in no hurry for an answer and leaned back again.
After a long silence, the wind blew the silver hair of the man below, letting it drape over his plain white collar.
He kept his eyes lowered, his long eyelashes casting a faint shadow beneath them. His voice was low and gentle, like water flowing over green stones in a mountain stream. “What happened back then was an accident, Yao'ao. No one wanted you to be trapped in the Earth Realm forever, and no one wanted you to die.”
Song Yao ate two more pieces of osmanthus candy.
As the candy dissolved in her mouth, it didn't taste as sweet as it used to.
She slid down the tree trunk a bit, shifting into a more comfortable posture to lean against it, and smoothly followed up: “That's easy then. Since no one wants to punish me, how about you just let me go?”
No matter how they beat around the bush, she always came back to leaving.
Fusheng lightly pressed his brow and shook his head. “No.”
Song Yao was truly out of options. “Why not? Do I absolutely have to stay here?”
“Yes.”
Fusheng didn't seem to want to dwell on this topic with her for too long. As he went to organize the ancient books, he coaxed her once more, “Be good and recover well. Once your health improves, I will let you out.”
Song Yao's eyes lit up. “Let me out of the Nine Saints Hall?”
Fusheng: “Let you out of Mingjing Peak.”
Song Yao: “...”
Fusheng instructed her again, “Don't burn the house down today. The hall is busy with various matters, and it would be inappropriate to trouble the Third Elder to come build a house twice in one day. You can burn it tomorrow.”
“...”
Song Yao watched him enter the house, feeling genuinely bewildered.
In her past life, her master already had an incredibly good temper. She had almost never seen him lose his temper, making him the ultimate nice guy. It was only during those last few times when she had gone completely overboard that he had scolded her twice, and in the end, under the combined efforts of the elders, he had thrown her into the Earth Realm.
This time, he wasn't just a nice guy anymore; he had the patience of a saint.
She provoked him with her words, yet he acted as if he hadn't heard a thing.
She burned down his house, yet he worried she wouldn't have a place to sleep.
She rubbed her dry eyes, feeling a bit frustrated.
If she were alone, she could easily do whatever she wanted without caring about some Immortal Venerable. But if she was trapped in the Nine Saints Hall, she would inevitably be forced to act with caution.
She sat on the tree and pondered deeply for a while, her hands forming a complex array-dispelling hand seal.
She couldn't care less anymore.
There were many more elders at the array core who could guess her identity. When the time came and they all raised a massive fuss demanding to send her away, her master couldn't possibly stubbornly insist on keeping her.
He would most likely do just as he did in her past life—take the path of least resistance and send her away.
Rate on N.U.
