I Might Be a Big Shot — Chapter 13

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This kind of duel, Scholar Bai wasn’t qualified to watch. After the four of them arrived, Rang Weiran and Rang Cencen knelt down, and Changkong Zhuoyu turned back to look at Li Xinglun, hands on his hips, wearing a smug smile.

Li Xinglun: “…”

Honestly, it wasn’t that he didn’t believe in Changkong Zhuoyu. If he judged only by his master’s unfathomable strength, then even if Changkong Zhuoyu claimed to be Xue Qianjie, or even an ancient god reincarnated, Li Xinglun would have believed it.

But every single time! Every time Changkong Zhuoyu performed some astonishing, awe-inspiring feat, he would then, behind everyone’s backs, show him the dumbest expression imaginable. Li Xinglun simply couldn’t bring himself to believe that Changkong Zhuoyu was the same Xue Qianjie who, two thousand years ago, had nearly conquered the entire cultivation world with nothing but a sword.

The difference was just too great.

If Changkong Zhuoyu really was the reincarnation of Xue Qianjie, then he had to wonder — what kind of terrible event did Xue Qianjie experience before losing his memory a thousand years ago, to make him let himself go to this extent?

With mixed feelings and full of doubt, Li Xinglun walked over to Changkong Zhuoyu. While Rang Weiran and Rang Cencen still kept their heads bowed, he reached out, pried Changkong Zhuoyu’s hands from his waist, and, holding them, wrote in his palm: [Hold it in, endure.]

Changkong Zhuoyu blinked, instantly showing a very aggrieved expression. Li Xinglun understood his mood — Changkong Zhuoyu simply couldn’t be happy without showing off, and now he had finally proven himself to be a big shot. If he didn’t stand there hands on hips and laugh toward the sky for a whole incense stick of time, he would feel unworthy of his earlier awe-inspiring performance.

When Changkong Zhuoyu’s clothes gradually turned blood-red, Li Xinglun’s heart inexplicably sank. It felt as though the silly master he knew no longer existed — the tangible, familiar man at his side had turned into someone distant and unreachable. Rationally, Li Xinglun should have wished for Changkong Zhuoyu to be Xue Qianjie — with the Sect Master’s strength and former status, it was only natural he’d have left some treasures behind. Li Xinglun wanted revenge and needed those resources. But in his heart, he wished Changkong Zhuoyu were nobody, just his master.

Such a simple yet complicated feeling.

Rang Cencen and Rang Weiran knelt for a long time without “Xue Qianjie” responding, so they cautiously stole a glance up — only to see the “Sect Master” and his Foundation Building disciple holding hands and gazing at each other with an unusually charged atmosphere.

The two of them exchanged a look, and the same thought arose in their minds.

Rang Cencen’s heart instantly filled with anger. Since her girlhood she had admired the Sect Master for many years, never wavering. Even if he merely wanted her as a furnace to harvest from, she would have gladly agreed. But to see the “Sect Master” looking so “deeply” at someone else — how could she accept that? She was jealous!

Feeling Rang Cencen’s gaze, Li Xinglun suddenly recalled the feelings this Hundred Flowers sect saintess had for Xue Qianjie and was struck by a strange idea. He let go of Changkong Zhuoyu’s hand, untied the red cord holding up his hair, letting it fall like a waterfall and dissipating some of that oppressive blood-stained aura.

“I don’t like it when you wear red,” Li Xinglun deliberately said in front of them, “It makes you feel very far away, and I don’t know how to keep being your disciple.”

He still didn’t know why Changkong Zhuoyu was so intent on taking him as a disciple (he guessed it was some kind of fledgling complex), but he understood — this identity was a huge weakness for Changkong Zhuoyu.

Sure enough, Changkong Zhuoyu immediately said: “As you wish.”

Fortunately, he still remembered to act and didn’t grab his sleeve petulantly.

Li Xinglun smiled faintly, plucked a strand of his hair, wound it with the red cord, and deftly tied it into a knot, hanging it on Changkong Zhuoyu’s wooden sword as a tassel. This red cord came from the strange white mist garment of Changkong Zhuoyu, and hanging it on the wooden sword would even enhance its attack a little — at least they wouldn’t look so poor as to not even own a proper treasure sword. Besides, the knot was called the “Peace and Fulfillment Knot,” something he had learned while traveling after reaching Foundation Building at fifteen.

The ancestors valued long hair, believing it a gift from one’s parents not to be damaged lightly, and in the mundane world {regular mortals, non-cultivators}, there was the tradition of “hair-knotting.” Combining hair and cord into a Peace and Fulfillment Knot meant entrusting one’s thoughts to another, wishing to share one’s fortune, and even if one were doomed to ruin, hoping the other could live a life of peace and joy.

Typically, parents gave it to their children, or it was something exchanged only between those with very deep affection. Li Xinglun himself didn’t know why he acted on impulse and made this knot for Changkong Zhuoyu. But what he really wished was to pass on a bit of his intelligence to Changkong Zhuoyu, so he could at least keep up appearances and not blow his cover in the next instant.

And the moment Li Xinglun tied the tassel to the sword, the blood-red hue faded, and he once again became a white-clad gentleman.

Rather like a “Xue Qianjie” who, beset by a tribulation of love, was willing to lay down his sword and attain enlightenment just to win a smile from his beloved.

This story was… profoundly irritating!

At least, that’s how Rang Cencen felt.

At first she didn’t dare look directly at “Xue Qianjie,” but now the more she looked the angrier she became. Finally she stood up outright, glaring furiously at the pair, and Rang Weiran couldn’t even hold her back.

In the cultivation world, same-sex dao companions were rare — there were only sworn brothers who had bound their lives together. Among the demonic cultivators there were some same-sex pairs, but it was always about harvesting, rarely true heartfelt connection. As the head of the Hundred Flowers sect, which followed its whims and cared neither for the bloodthirsty cruelty of the demonic path nor the propriety of the righteous sects, Rang Cencen wasn’t prejudiced against two men being together. She simply felt that Li Xinglun, this little fox spirit, dared to confuse her great Sect Master — utterly outrageous!

Li Xinglun turned his head and, pretending to catch Rang Cencen’s glare by chance, immediately hid behind Changkong Zhuoyu, looking every bit the timid fox spirit as he softly said: “Master, the Sect Leader’s gaze is so scary… I’m afraid…”

Changkong Zhuoyu: “…”

The disciple he’d always admired as cool and proud was not this kind of person!

But at this moment, as the master, he had to stand up for his disciple, so Changkong Zhuoyu stepped in front of Li Xinglun with his sword and said: “With your master here, you need not fear anyone in this world.”

Rang Cencen: “…”

Seeing Rang Cencen act so rudely, Rang Weiran couldn’t stay kneeling either. He stood, cupped his hands to the two and said: “Cencen is young and impetuous, still a bit immature. I will properly discipline her. Sect Master Xue, may I ask what instructions you have for visiting us today? I heard from our subordinates that you came for a Gu?”

In this complicated situation, better to change the subject quickly than to explain too much. Sure enough, hearing Rang Weiran’s question, Changkong Zhuoyu immediately replied: “Nothing else, just for my unworthy disciple.”

As the master, that was all he needed to say — the rest was up to Li Xinglun to make up.

So Li Xinglun made up a story about having gotten entangled in too many romantic calamities before, pursued by both powerful male and female cultivators. But he himself was a person of integrity, unwilling to become anyone’s dao companion, wishing only to cultivate earnestly. Fortunately, by chance, when he was being chased and feeling despair, he leapt into the Soul-Breaking Gorge and awakened Changkong Zhuoyu, who had been in a death-seeking seclusion and slumbering for many years.. The two exited the gorge together, and he became Changkong Zhuoyu’s disciple. Yet he still had many pursuers, so to avoid trouble, his master wanted to change his appearance for future travels.

{Lit. “closed death barrier”; an extreme form of seclusion, where a cultivator shuts themselves away, risking death to break through.}

The Rang master and disciple: “…”

This story painted Li Xinglun as a scheming little fox spirit who, after tricking several mighty cultivators out of their feelings, was hunted down to the point of leaping off a cliff — or perhaps being pushed. And, true to the Central Plains storybook cliché that “every cliff bottom hides a senior expert or treasure,” Li Xinglun encountered a newly awakened, naive “Sect Master,” seduced him with his looks and wiles, found a new backer, and now wanted to change his appearance to avoid past troubles.

This was really…

As Changkong Zhuoyu listened to Li Xinglun’s story, he thought to himself — as your master, clearly my imagination is lacking. My disciple has far more experience.

But just then, Li Xinglun shot him a look, as if to say: Master, don’t underestimate yourself. This ability to spin tales was taught to me by you at the bottom of the gorge.

Instantly reassured, Changkong Zhuoyu patted Li Xinglun’s shoulder with a “you’re learning well” expression.

Matching Li Xinglun’s words, it even looked like he was comforting him, which made Rang Cencen grit her teeth audibly, and even Rang Weiran wore a look of shattered dreams.

But the elder Rang could still restrain himself. He cupped his hands and said: “A face-changing pill, right? No problem. The Sect Master and I will go prepare it right away. You two honored guests, please wait here.”

Having said that, he left Li Xinglun and Changkong Zhuoyu in the guest hall, with a few attendants to serve them, while he and Rang Cencen quickly retreated to the back hall. Once they were sure no one was listening, Rang Weiran finally said: “Sect Master, you were too impulsive.”

“I couldn’t help it!” Rang Cencen gritted her teeth. “What kind of status and presence does the Sect Master have? Seeing him today — he truly lives up to his name. But to think such a Sect Master would be blinded by someone like that… It must be because of his tribulation. Once the Sect Master regains his memory, he’ll surely see that person’s true nature!”

“Sigh, I think so too.” Rang Weiran looked pained. “But from what I saw today, the Sect Master seems to care deeply for him. I fear he won’t heed our earnest words.”

“What should we do then?” Rang Cencen’s face was full of heartache, disappointment, and heartbreak.

“Well…” The older and wiser Rang Weiran lowered his head and thought for a while, then whispered a few words in Rang Cencen’s ear. She nodded repeatedly as she listened.

Meanwhile, back in the guest hall, Changkong Zhuoyu and Li Xinglun were still playing their hand-writing game. Actually, they could have just transmitted their voices at this point — after all, given Xue Qianjie’s reputation, no one would dare object even if they knew.

But for some reason, the two seemed to enjoy this way of communicating.

To maintain his inscrutable air, Changkong Zhuoyu sat quietly with his eyes closed, letting his disciple hold his hand — as if saying to the world, I don’t care about anyone else, only you.

Li Xinglun wrote in Changkong Zhuoyu’s palm: [If I’m not mistaken, we’ll have money when we leave the Hundred Flowers sect.]

[The Hundred Flowers sect will give us money?] Changkong Zhuoyu wrote back with great interest.

[No, someone of the Sect Master’s caliber wouldn’t stoop to handing out silver or spirit stones. Most likely, they’ll find a way to send someone to follow you — probably that Rang Cencen — and along the way we won’t have to pay for anything ourselves. She’ll cover all the expenses. The Hundred Flowers sect has exchanged a lot of treasures from both righteous and demonic sides over the years using Gu poison; they’re surely not short on money.]

[With such a disciple, what more could a master ask for.]

~ Chapter End ~

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