Young Master Bai — Chapter 46

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Chapter 46: Don’t Speak, Kiss Him

All things come with gain and loss. The yao did not need cultivation to gain power from their bloodlines. In exchange, they lost the ability of reincarnation — after death, their souls would decay along with their bodies and disperse into Heaven and Earth. For Li Wuming to revive Bai Chen, he first had to use his own heart’s blood to preserve the body’s vitality, and then forcibly anchor Bai Chen’s soul within the Great Snow Mountain. The spiritual materials used to nourish a soul were treasures rarely seen in the world; the consumption of five hundred years was something even a deep-rooted sect might not be able to sustain.

The yao knew they had no reincarnation, so they never cultivated the soul. The Great Snow Mountain had no reserves of such materials — every last item was something Li Wuming had bartered for while traveling the world, solving problems for various factions. Bai Chen had long suspected as much, and upon hearing Feng Shiqi’s words, he was certain it was the truth.

Li Wuming had been a general since youth. Disorder among the ranks meant disorder in the army. From the first time he stepped onto the battlefield, he knew he was everyone’s pillar — there was no room for fear, not even one cry of pain. Even if one day he reached his final moment, before closing his eyes, he would laugh, curse, rage, and jest as usual, leaving those under his protection with a final sense of reassurance.

This was a man who had lived a life bearing the burdens of family and country. Even now, though his family was scattered and his nation gone, he had only a sickly little fox left — and before this little fox, he was still the unshakable pillar. With him there, no problem was insurmountable.

Such a man, outwardly easygoing but unyielding at his core, had never learned how to complain. When Bai Chen stepped out of the chamber, he deliberately pulled his Dao companion to take a walk, circling nearly the entire Lihuo Palace, yet still hadn’t figured out how to ask what weighed on his mind.

Bai Chen was heavy-hearted, but Li Wuming appeared as carefree as ever. With moonlight guiding the path and beauty at his side, he enjoyed the fine scenery, sighing over the world’s splendor. “Those scholars and poets say that the height of elegance in the world is ‘the waters of Suzhou, the clouds of the Hidden Wisdom Sect.’ I once saw Yuncheng’s clouds and thought them nothing special. But now that I stand upon the heavenly stairs and look out, only then do I realize their wonder. The sky feels so close it seems if I leapt high enough, I could reach out and grab the moon.”

The Hidden Wisdom Sect was shrouded in clouds and mist all year. Walking through it was like strolling in Heaven, gazing at stars and moon with a unique charm. Seeing Li Wuming truly enjoying it, Bai Chen could only sigh and respond helplessly, “How exaggerated. The Supreme Peak is already the tallest mountain in the world. I live at the Silent Pavilion every day, yet Heaven is still far out of reach.”

Li Wuming did not blame him for lacking a poetic heart. As long as his little fox was willing to speak, he had ways to make his Dao companion smile. Gazing at the stars, he said, “That’s why people envy the yao. Some of you are born with wings to soar into the skies. Even without feathers, as long as you live long enough, you naturally gain the ability to tread the clouds and fly.”

The yao never understood why humans loved stargazing. The stars and moon hadn’t changed for centuries — how could humans take one glance and write endless poems? Did they have different eyes?

Bai Chen himself had little interest in scenery. He only sighed about the yao, “Exactly so. Laziness pervades the yao. The nobler the bloodline, the less willing to cultivate. Few have strong obsession with ascension. They idle century after century. Take that boy Chenzui for example — he boasted of challenging Bu Tiange to wash away his shame, worked hard for less than three days, and now he’s back snoring in bed. In my opinion, Bu Tiange should carve the word ‘lazy’ on his backside every three days.”

Mentioning the problem of teaching juniors gave Bai Chen a headache, but Li Wuming only laughed. “Good idea. I’m sure the little headmaster won’t mind helping you with that task.”

Bai Chen had warned himself to always be gentle to his Dao companion, to let Li Wuming treat him as the sweetest honey jar. But as they chatted, this man had led the conversation astray again. Unable to resist, he shot him a glare. “When it comes to proper matters, you hardly speak. But when it’s nonsense, you’re full of enthusiasm.”

When the little fox showed temper, Li Wuming was all the happier. Their hands had been clasped for half an hour, and he still didn’t want to let go. He said leisurely, “Though you feel human pressure, you’ve never truly fought them. Many yao still harbor the delusion that if war breaks out, they can hide in some mountain forest. It’s impossible to awaken the entire yao race. First, gather those who can truly follow you. With strength in hand, only then can you plan further.”

Bai Chen was still new to the realm of power. Compared to Li Wuming, seasoned in the court, he was far less shrewd. Sometimes Li Wuming withheld words just to let him gain experience. But he could not let his little fox stumble either, so he turned and pinched his Dao companion’s cheek. “You must manage only the yao loyal to you, not all yao under Heaven. Know the boundary between the two. Don’t worry yourself to death trying to swallow the whole feast at once. Look, even when I feed you, I do it bite by bite, every day.”

Li Wuming rarely spoke of serious matters, but when he did, he hit the mark. The fox clan was already the cleverest among the yao, yet Bai Chen always felt he couldn’t see as far as this man. It left him both frustrated and oddly proud. He had never experienced such complicated, conflicting feelings before. Perhaps he had learned too much from the humans — even emotions.

He knew all the tricks to stir a man’s desire, but in matters of love he was inexperienced. Now, feigning discontent, he cast him a sidelong glance. “No wonder you always have snacks on you. So that’s your plan — to fatten me up.”

All species that had known hunger carried an instinctive greed for food. Humans were like this, and so were foxes — weak among beasts. No matter how powerful they became, the memory of famine in their blood made them genuinely happy when enjoying food.

Li Wuming didn’t deny his sinister little intention of fattening his fox. He patted Bai Chen’s frail shoulder and laughed softly. “You slept for five hundred years. Your body does need some nourishing.”

Bai Chen’s youthful form was the type most adored by human men — slender waist, delicate hips, a figure like a willow swaying in the wind, small enough to be embraced in one arm. Yet his Dao companion thought him too weak, even wishing to secretly fatten him up.

Realizing that the methods in books didn’t work on this Sword Immortal, Bai Chen went straight to the point. “Men are the best nourishment for fox yao. Come, then.”

The words nearly made Li Wuming stumble. The Sword Immortal rubbed his head, studying his Dao companion closely, his instincts urging him to haul this little vixen back to bed for “discipline.” But one glance at his own right hand made him suppress the thought. Awkwardly, he said, “How about this — we bargain. I’ll give you a little blood every day?”

Bai Chen wasn’t unused to rejection from this man. But today felt different. Li Wuming sought nothing from his body, demanded no price. Such one-sided giving made Bai Chen uneasy. His face darkened. “Before I drug you, give me a reason.”

Seeing his little fox truly angry, Li Wuming knew he could hide no longer. He lifted his bandage-wrapped right hand with a helpless look. “Right now, I can’t be too intimate with you — it’ll provoke it.”

Bai Chen had suspected something was wrong with that hand. Now, seizing the chance, he asked outright. “What’s the matter with this hand of yours?”

They were inseparable, together day and night. Strange things couldn’t stay hidden forever. Thinking of what he had overheard that night, Li Wuming finally told the truth. “My master believed a Nine-tailed White Fox would never give his heart to one person. Fearing this fool would give his life for you, he left behind a wisp of divine sense to monitor me.”

He tried to phrase it lightly, but Bai Chen immediately understood. “You’re mad! Allowing a divine sense to enter your body is a sign of possession!”

Divine sense was the fundamental power by which a cultivator controlled their body. If invaded by another, one lost control entirely. Sword Immortal Bai’s cultivation was unimaginably high — if he willed it, that divine sense could annihilate Li Wuming’s soul and seize his body.

“Perhaps this is just the way of a parent,” Li Wuming said lightly. “Better to destroy me himself than hand me to the Nine-tailed White Fox.”

Li Wuming knew better than anyone his master’s power, and all its dangers. Five hundred years ago, he had gone to his master and confessed that he loved a Nine-tailed White Fox. Unless he could kill that yao with his own hands, he could never truly walk the emotionless path.

Sword Immortal Bai, for that reason, agreed to leave Bai Chen’s soul intact, and even allowed Li Wuming to wander the mortal world seeking a way to restore him. But such a clumsy lie couldn’t fool his master. That divine sense was his safeguard.

If he betrays you, kill him immediately.

That was the command buried deep within Li Wuming’s body, along with the divine sense. Sword Immortal Bai, cold from centuries in the ice, never spoke much even to his disciple. Yet even a fragment of his divine sense bore his hatred for the Nine-tailed White Fox. In fox form it was tolerable, turning a blind eye. But in human form, the divine sense wanted to stab him at every approach. For years, Li Wuming had relied on consecrated white silk to keep it calm. Unless forced to draw his sword, he never dared relax his restraint for a moment.

As he revealed the truth, the divine sense in his right hand surged, bursting its bandages. Li Wuming quickly rewrapped it, comforting Bai Chen. “Don’t worry. I’m my master’s only hope. He won’t kill me. Besides, if I’ve defied my master and lived this long, that’s already remarkable. Once he believes we truly are Heaven-matched Dao companions, he’ll withdraw it.”

That was the hand most vital to a swordsman, now beyond his own control. For a cultivator, it was agony. Bai Chen knew full well it wasn’t as simple as Li Wuming claimed. As long as their hearts were united, it was fine. But if one day Bai Chen wavered, that divine sense would seize Li Wuming at once, using his body to kill the betrayer.

Li Wuming was gambling his life on the heart of a Nine-tailed White Fox.

The weight of it left Bai Chen speechless. Li Wuming, unwilling to see his little fox burdened, ignored the danger and laughed to coax him. “It’s not all bad. How many cultivators get to wrestle with their own right hand? Look — I make you laugh, and it tries to slap me.”

Five hundred years, and he hadn’t changed. Back then, Bai Chen — knowing he was doomed — lived daily under heavy gloom. Li Wuming would find every novelty he could to cheer him up. For a year, the Nine-tailed White Fox, burdened with the hopes of his race, had tasted what it meant to be cherished. Once, Li Wuming had given him a skewer of candied hawthorn. He’d wanted to drag both man and candy into his den, wrapping them up with his nine tails, never letting anyone steal them away.

But Li Wuming was too bright, too strong — like the sun in the sky. Wherever he appeared, he drove away all cold and darkness, warm and dazzling, beloved by all. The fox’s little claws could never reach the sun. All he could do was gaze longingly at its reflection in the water and whisper, “I like you so much. Do you know?”

He had never dared imagine the sun would one day fall into his den and say, “Little fox, I like you too. Even if the moon tried to stop me, I still leapt down.”

It was a story too strange for gods or ghosts to believe. Yet here he was in his den, and Li Wuming was his. No one could take him away.

Beneath the starry river, surrounded by mist, Bai Chen clutched the man’s collar, rose on tiptoe, and kissed him. In human tales, a kiss was the pledge of love. Before, he couldn’t see how it differed from a handshake or an embrace, but now he truly understood.

When moved by love, the body reacted instinctively. Instinct was more honest than any words.

“Just wait. One day, I’ll raise the whole world to feed you.”

Bai Chen hadn’t expected his ambush to succeed. When they parted, he was a little flustered, but his heart spoke before his mind. Afraid Li Wuming would deflect, he sternly warned, “This one thing — you must not refuse.”

Li Wuming had once fought for the world itself. Even then, his elder brother had never sworn such words. He had never thought, at six hundred years of age, he would hear them at last. Though their roles seemed reversed, facing Bai Chen’s vow, he was deeply moved. He patted the little fox’s head, smiling brightly. “If the Yao King heard that, he’d die of anger on the spot.”

Indeed, the Yao King would be enraged by such a descendant. But Bai Chen was willing to be reckless this once. He pulled Li Wuming’s hand down, pressed his cheek into his palm, and confessed what he had been hiding. “I’ve been so afraid — that you’ll give too much. No matter how deep the love, it can be worn away bit by bit. That one day you’ll wake from this long dream and realize this fox has nothing good about him, nothing useful for your life. As your master said, only emotionlessness is true freedom.”

He was the Nine-tailed White Fox, master of the world’s strongest Mind-stealing Technique. He should not have felt such fear. But once his heart was moved, he could not control it. Gripping Li Wuming’s hand tighter, he said, “I don’t know why you care for me. But whatever the reason, you are already my Dao companion. I won’t let you go.”

Yao knew no shame. Whatever Bai Chen wanted, he dared say. For the man he desired he would wag his tail or bare his belly — anything to keep him. And once kept, it had to be for a lifetime.

In that moment, Li Wuming gazed at the moonlit face before him, but what rose in his mind was another scene, long ago in wind and snow.

Amid endless white, a tiny fox of the same color had scurried back and forth, bringing every treasure from his den to the white-robed man in meditation.

Bird eggs, wild fruits, broken bones… Useless trinkets, yet the man who had sat motionless for a hundred years like a statue finally opened his eyes. Quietly, he dropped his protective aura for the first time, allowing the little fox to crawl into his arms for warmth.

Li Wuming knew — this was his master’s memory.

Back then, the Sword Immortal, after a thousand years of purity, had never imagined he would be moved by such a little creature. Still less that the fox who had begged so desperately to be his disciple, once he gained power, would abandon him without hesitation.

The greater the love, the deeper the hate in betrayal. Now, seeing the same scene play out again, the divine sense in Li Wuming’s palm surged madly, urging one command: Kill him now, while everything is still beautiful.

Humans say, “Ignore the elder’s warning and you’ll suffer at hand.” Li Wuming refused to believe it. He held his right hand behind him and, with his left — still under his control — he pulled Bai Chen into his arms. His face carried its usual smile. “So you can’t live without me, hm?”

Bai Chen had no idea his life had just hung on Li Wuming’s whim. Having confessed, he felt drained, leaning against him and murmuring, “Sometimes I think you’re the real fox spirit, and I’m the one ensnared. I can only hide you carefully in my den, afraid I’ll lose you by accident.”

Li Wuming could never resist this side of Bai Chen. Whenever he saw it, he wanted to squeeze him forever. Though he had always been the protector, he chuckled, “I don’t eat much, I’m not picky, and I fight well. You’ll profit by keeping me.”

Bai Chen knew well that every power in the world wanted to keep such a Sword Immortal. And he knew it was Li Wuming raising him now. That was why he had to become the Yao King, stronger than all. For now, he claimed him first, pulling out a keepsake and pressing it into Li Wuming’s hand. “For you.”

It was a pendant made of fox fur, dangling like tiny fox tails. Nine tufts were tied together with red cord, symbol of the Nine-tailed White Fox. Seeing Li Wuming’s curious look, Bai Chen explained, “A sword tassel made from the finest hairs of my tail. Isn’t this what you like most?”

Li Wuming pinched it — indeed, it felt just like Bai Chen. A tassel unique in the world, perfectly suited as a love token. He tied it to his sword hilt at once, nodding in satisfaction. “Not bad. It suits the Supreme Emperor Sword.”

For the first time in five thousand years, the Supreme Emperor Sword bore a tassel. The snowy fur and the black scabbard complemented each other perfectly. Bai Chen was pleased too. Without making empty promises, he declared confidently, “Wait until I recover my yao core — I’ll have plenty of fine things for you.”

Having said that, he felt renewed determination. He stopped wandering and hurried back to his chamber to study how to strengthen his power and raise his man.

Li Wuming had just received a love token only to be abandoned again. But he laughed, gazed up at the moon, and patted his troublesome right hand heavily. With satisfaction, he sighed, “Master, with such a fine token of love, our return gift mustn’t be shabby.”

~ Chapter End ~

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