I Might Be a Big Shot — Chapter 41
Changkong Zhuoyu was very worried. His little disciple already had a somewhat dark and twisted personality, and now that his only remaining family members were likely being refined into an artifact, his character would surely become even darker. In truth, there was no need for the Blood-Severing Art — Li Xinglun was almost turning demonic already. Now, with such a sinister technique being used, who knew what he would become when it was over?
He paced around the palace anxiously, like a headless fly, walking from one end to the other and back again. After several trips, Li Xinglun finally couldn’t bear to watch any longer and said softly, “The sect master of the Xuanming Sect will be here soon.”
No sooner had he spoken than Xuan Minglie, who had just received Changkong Zhuoyu’s summons, arrived at the door. Still lost in his anxiety, Changkong Zhuoyu didn’t notice him until the moment Li Xinglun spoke and Xuan Minglie pushed the door open. At that instant, just as Changkong Zhuoyu was about to turn back to his seat, Xuan Minglie stepped inside.
All he saw was a crimson figure spinning in front of him before soaring gracefully through the air like a butterfly, landing before the seat in a beautiful arc and sitting down in a pose both striking and elegant.
Xuan Minglie: “…”
Why fly like that just as he entered? Was it meant to intimidate? But what sort of intimidation was that — after all, what cultivator couldn’t fly?
Still, it was undeniably beautiful.
It had long been said that Xue Qianjie was as beautiful as a divine being, dazzling even with a single glance. Unfortunately, Sect Master Xue’s power and killing intent were so overwhelming that no one dared look directly at him, so his appearance was never known among mortals. All people knew of Xue Qianjie came only from legend.
If speaking of appearance alone, this Changkong Zhuoyu might very well be Xue Qianjie.
Holding onto his doubts, Xuan Minglie found himself momentarily dazed before the red-robed figure. Only when Changkong Zhuoyu gave a faint cough did he snap out of his trance.
Even just a figure — not even a gaze — could be so enchanting…
Xuan Minglie dared not look up at the figure on the seat, instead lowering his eyes quietly and asking, “How does the Venerable Lord wish to proceed?”
“Please begin the technique, sect master,” Changkong Zhuoyu replied coolly, completely concealing his earlier anxiety.
Li Xinglun gave him a deep look. His master only ever showed his unreliable and even somewhat foolish side in front of him. No matter how pure-hearted he was at his core, before outsiders he could always display whatever demeanor he chose.
Only Li Xinglun could see the true Changkong Zhuoyu beneath all the masks of indifference.
Xuan Minglie glanced at Li Xinglun. In his eyes, this young Golden Core cultivator at late stage wasn’t even worth noticing — the only reason he acknowledged him was because of his powerful master.
For a Great Ascension stage cultivator, that was normal. But when he probed Li Xinglun’s spiritual roots in preparation for the technique, his expression subtly changed, and for the first time he regarded the young cultivator seriously, his eyes filled with disbelief.
“You’re only twenty-one?” Xuan Minglie exclaimed.
Before reaching the Five Decays of Heaven and Man {signs of decline that even the most exalted divine beings experience before the end of their lifespan}, a cultivator’s appearance never aged — unless they deliberately chose a head of white hair, no matter how old or how advanced their cultivation, they still looked young. However, while appearances didn’t change, the bone age still grew year by year. Even the youngest late-stage Golden Core cultivators were usually at least a hundred years old. Yet Li Xinglun was only twenty-one?
Could he have possessed a body and reincarnated?
No — usually those who possessed bodies lacked a portion of innate true essence. They could continue cultivating, but they would never ascend and would end up as wandering immortals. But Li Xinglun’s true essence was abundant, and his body and soul showed no sign of incompatibility — unlikely to be a body-possessor.
Still, Xuan Minglie found it hard to believe. He said, “A body-possessor’s flesh isn’t their own. An artifact made from the bloodline of their kin would lose much of its effectiveness, and they cannot perform the Blood-Severing Art. After all, this isn’t their original body — once the technique begins, their soul could leave the body at any moment. You’re really not a body-possessor?”
“I’m not,” Li Xinglun answered tersely and calmly.
Seeing Xuan Minglie’s shocked gaze, he remained utterly unmoved.
So what if he was a twenty-one-year-old at the Golden Core stage? He was still just at the Golden Core stage. Compared to Changkong Zhuoyu, he was far too weak.
Moreover, according to Changkong Zhuoyu’s speculation, the collapse of the Kunlun divine formation was only the beginning. The Mount Shu sword formation also showed signs of failing, though Changkong Zhuoyu had stopped it for now. Next would likely be the divine formation at Emei. The three formations were linked — as long as even one remained intact, the seals over the entrances to the demon realm could still hold for a while. But if someday the Emei formation also fell, then all three entrances would open at once, unleashing endless demonic creatures into the human world, bringing untold devastation and turning it into a ghostly hell.
With two formations already in trouble, it was only a matter of time before Emei’s fell as well. They didn’t have much time left — perhaps not even a year. And he was still only at the late Golden Core stage.
At the very least, he had to reach the Nascent Soul stage before the catastrophe struck, so as not to drag Changkong Zhuoyu down.
Li Xinglun understood clearly — though his master seemed to care only about those few identities of his, if a true calamity befell the human world, with his temperament, he would stop it with all his might, even at the cost of his life.
He hoped to catch up to Changkong Zhuoyu as quickly as possible, not stand at the rear of the battlefield, protected by his master, watching from afar.
For that, Li Xinglun was willing to pay any price to improve his strength.
“Please begin at once, sect master,” Li Xinglun said. “Just tell me what I need to be aware of.”
As for how dangerous it might be, or what would happen if he failed — Li Xinglun didn’t need to know. Something deep inside told him that this time he would succeed.
Since the subject was so forthright, Xuan Minglie, not a talkative man, said, “First, no outsiders can interrupt midway through the Blood-Severing, so someone must stand guard. Second, only you and I can remain in the room during the process — even one extra person would interfere with my technique.”
This second point was clearly aimed at Changkong Zhuoyu, indicating he wasn’t welcome to stay. Changkong Zhuoyu descended from his high seat, saying to Xuan Minglie, “Rest assured, sect master. I will set up a formation outside the palace — no one will enter. I’m not worried about you secretly harming a Golden Core junior either. If I can train a twenty-one-year-old Golden Core disciple, I can train countless more. Of course, I’d much rather have a twenty-one-year-old Nascent Soul disciple — that depends on your skill.”
The implication was clear — what he cared about was Li Xinglun’s strength, not the disciple himself. So trying to threaten Changkong Zhuoyu by harming Li Xinglun was pointless — even if Xuan Minglie harmed him, Changkong Zhuoyu wouldn’t care.
But in truth, Changkong Zhuoyu cared a great deal — he just couldn’t show it. The colder he acted, the better it was for Li Xinglun.
He couldn’t even place any restrictions on Xuan Minglie, lest the man notice how much he valued Li Xinglun.
Though his words sounded cold, Li Xinglun understood his master and heard the meaning behind them.
So Li Xinglun smiled faintly and said to Changkong Zhuoyu, with equanimity, “Master, don’t worry. If your disciple can’t endure the Blood-Severing Art, then I no longer deserve to be your disciple.”
With these words, he told Xuan Minglie that he was just a pawn to his master and held no real value.
Xuan Minglie, as if not hearing the undertones of their exchange, continued, “Third, the subject must remain fully conscious throughout, to see clearly the blood patterns on his body. When all the blood flows out, he must guide his true essence along the patterns to prevent his body from dying of blood loss midway. Also, there’s no need for you two to put on an act — if I had such a twenty-one-year-old Golden Core disciple, even if I planned to drain his cultivation later, I’d treat him like a treasure at first, giving him everything, cherishing him. How could I not care about his life and death?”
Li Xinglun and Changkong Zhuoyu: “…”
The two of them looked at Xuan Minglie’s calm gaze and heard him say, “Even if he weren’t my disciple, I’d still cherish talent and want to see how far he could go.”
Being seen through like this was quite awkward. Who knew where Xuan Minglie found the nerve to speak so frankly in front of Changkong Zhuoyu pretending to be Xue Qianjie? Fortunately, Changkong Zhuoyu was long used to awkwardness and quickly adjusted, saying naturally, “So long as you understand — saves me from saying anything pretentious.”
Li Xinglun: “…”
Master, you’re already very good at being pretentious, okay…
After explaining the precautions, Changkong Zhuoyu left the palace, set up a formation outside, and stood guard with his wooden sword. The cold mask instantly crumbled, revealing a nervous expression as he kept glancing toward the palace despite not being able to see inside.
“You have a good master,” said Xuan Minglie inside the palace, as he stripped off Li Xinglun’s clothing, cut his own wrist, and the blood that flowed out solidified into a blood blade. As he carved patterns into Li Xinglun’s body with the blade, he spoke.
Changkong Zhuoyu had always been good at acting, but he simply couldn’t feign ruthlessness. Whether it was Rang Cencen or Xuan Minglie, even if they were fooled by his outward aura, they could still see his soft heart.
Otherwise, even when Rang Cencen discovered he wasn’t Xue Qianjie, she wouldn’t have dared strike at him. She acted because she knew Changkong Zhuoyu wouldn’t retaliate.
Li Xinglun said nothing. The patterns appearing on his body seemed to cut into his very soul with each stroke, splitting his spirit apart. No wonder Xuan Minglie insisted he remain conscious — he had wondered, since physical pain should be nothing to a cultivator’s powerful spirit.
It turned out each cut was carved into the soul itself, the pain threatening to scatter his spirit at any moment.
~ Chapter End ~
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