Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
Hongjun's face, which should have been as pale as jade, now bore a faint blush, as if it had been touched by rouge. With such a look, who would believe him when he said he wasn't drunk? Ye Chuanze looked at him and said, "People who are drunk usually don't admit it."
Hongjun frowned in dissatisfaction at this remark and retorted, "I'm not drunk. It's just a small jar of wine; how could I possibly be drunk?"
Ye Chuanze chuckled lightly and replied leisurely, "What's even scarier is that those who are drunk often think they aren't."
"…"
Hongjun furrowed his brow even deeper after hearing this, looking slightly troubled as if pondering how to convince Ye Chuanze that he was indeed sober. After a while, he simply repeated, "I'm not drunk."
His voice was unusually firm, leaving no room for doubt. His brows were tightly knitted, and his expression was one of displeasure.
Ye Chuanze merely smiled without saying anything in response, which only deepened Hongjun's frown.
Hongjun straightened up and emphasized once more, "I'm not drunk."
Ye Chuanze smirked and looked at him, saying, "Alright, alright! You're not drunk." His tone was indulgent and helpless, as if dealing with someone being unreasonable.
Upon hearing this, Hongjun raised his gaze to meet Ye Chuanze's eyes, his voice lowering as he said, "You don't need to lie to me in that tone. You already believe I'm drunk; there's no point in me saying more. But whether you believe it or not, I am not drunk."
Ye Chuanze glanced at him and thought to himself that Dao Ancestor truly was different even when drunk; he seemed unaffected. If it weren't for the foolish act he had just committed, Ye Chuanze might have been convinced that he was sober—he played the part so well!
However convincing his act might be, it was betrayed by his own actions. Would a normal person feed wine to a lotus flower and ask if it tasted good? Only a fool or a drunken idiot would do something like that!
It is said that drunks are unreasonable; they are like beings of pure logic. Ye Chuanze wholeheartedly agreed with this sentiment. Wasn't the person before him just like that? He generously decided not to stoop to the level of a drunkard; it would save him from losing his dignity.
Hongjun lingered by the lotus pond for quite some time. The evening breeze gently blew past him, lifting his garments and tousling his hair slightly. The blush on his pale cheeks remained unchanged, yet his gaze was clear. However, to Ye Chuanze, he appeared somewhat slow-witted at this moment, unlike the cunning and shrewd fox he usually was. This version of Hongjun seemed less unpleasant?
Ye Chuanze pondered for a long time and concluded that if Hongjun were not so shrewd and cunning in the future, and perhaps a bit duller, he would probably come to like him. No one likes someone smarter than themselves; conversely, people tend to prefer interacting with those who are less intelligent. This way, they won't be taken advantage of and might even take advantage of others.
“At this moment, it would be nice if you could transform into human form,” Hongjun suddenly said after a long silence. “Drinking alone is always a bit lonely.”
Upon hearing this, Ye Chuanze's heart trembled. Once upon a time, someone had said something similar to him.
“Black Lotus, if you could take human form, that would be great; then you could accompany me while I drink,” said the man in black clothing with dark hair, his brows sharp and fierce, wearing a lazy and carefree smile.
He once thought that time could dilute everything—people, events, or even the elusive feelings that would be buried by time. However, thousands of years had passed, and the man who had long since disappeared left a deep imprint in his heart that he could not forget. Although the person was no longer present, their voice and smile remained vivid in his memory.
For a moment, Ye Chuanze felt troubled. His feelings toward Rahul were very complex. With the passage of time, the intense hatred he once felt had gradually faded with Rahul's death, leaving behind a sense of guilt and regret for him. Such a person ultimately died; had he lived on, he would undoubtedly have been an extraordinary figure.
Hongjun noticed his silence and looked up at him with a calm expression, as if he guessed what was on his mind. After a moment of silence, he coldly asked, “Do you regret your actions that day?”
Hearing this, Ye Chuanze's expression was inscrutable. After a while, he replied, “Though there is regret, I do not repent! If I had to do it again, I would make the same decision.”
If Rahul had not died that day, he would have remained bound for life—something he did not wish for. Although he felt regretful about his death, if it truly came down to it, he would still stab him without hesitation. Between himself and Rahul, he would undoubtedly choose himself. If only one of them could survive, he would not hesitate to kill Rahul to secure his own chance at life. He did not want to die; he wanted to live!
Hongjun gazed at him deeply and sighed after a long while, “You truly have a cold nature.”
Ye Chuanze sneered at this remark. “Don’t act as if you are so sentimental; you would likely be even harsher than I am. You and I are not much different; we are both equally flawed—neither should mock the other.”
After hearing this, Hongjun did not retort; in fact, on some level, he acknowledged Ye Chuanze's words. Ye Chuanze was cold by nature, and Hongjun was not particularly sentimental either.
Hongjun walked over to the stone table, lifted the jar of wine, and approached the lotus pond. He raised his hand and poured the remaining wine into the pond. Ye Chuanze was immediately shocked by this action; his eyes widened slightly as he struggled to comprehend what was happening. After a while, he finally managed to ask in a difficult voice, “What are you doing?”
After pouring out all the wine from the jar, Hongjun finally looked at him seriously and said, “You have no human form and cannot drink; therefore, I poured this wine into the pond water. The water nurtures the lotus; surely you can taste the flavor of fine wine.”
"......" Ye Chuanze.
After a moment of speechlessness, Ye Chuanze finally spoke up, "With logic like that, are you sure you haven't been drinking?"
"Of course I'm not drunk!" Hongjun replied firmly.
"Hehe..."
High above in the sky, the moon resembled a silver plate, and the stars twinkled like points of light against the deep black night, akin to a thick ink wash. Under the moonlight, by the lotus pond, Purple-Clad Daoist and a young man with long black hair gazed at each other, whispering softly.
This night was sleepless, and the moonlight was at its peak.
*********
Time passed without notice, and in the blink of an eye, a thousand years had gone by. It was once again time for the second sermon at Purple Cloud Palace.
During the first sermon at Purple Cloud Palace, there were not many immortals who came to listen. However, by the time of the second sermon, the palace was filled with people. Every immortal who had previously attended the first sermon and then secluded themselves for cultivation returned with significantly improved skills. As a result, Hongjun's reputation spread far and wide. When it came time for the second sermon at Purple Cloud Palace, all capable immortals came to listen.
Among those attending this time was a particularly notable figure: Ancestral Witch Houtu.
The Witch Clan traditionally focused on body refinement rather than cultivating the Primordial Spirit, which made them quite unique among the immortals who practiced Primordial Spirit. The Three Pure Ones were transformed from the Primordial Spirit of Pangu the Great, while the Twelve Ancestor Witches were born from his essence. The former represented pure energy, while the latter represented turbid energy. The Three Pure Ones prided themselves on being the authentic descendants of Pangu, looking down upon the Twelve Ancestor Witches, whom they considered inferior for focusing on body refinement instead of cultivating their spirits. They refused to associate with them and did not acknowledge their claims of being true descendants of Pangu, believing their origins unworthy of comparison.
Conversely, the Twelve Ancestor Witches took pride in their lineage from Pangu. The denial from the Three Pure Ones felt like a slap in the face to them, especially given the disdainful attitude that the Three Pure Ones consistently displayed towards them. This led to a deep-seated enmity between the two groups.
One might wonder if the Three Pure Ones truly had a nature predisposed to hatred; they seemed to carry an aura that attracted conflict wherever they went.
The Twelve Ancestor Witches cultivated strength rather than focusing on their Primordial Spirit, following a path similar to that of Pangu the Great. Just as the Three Pure Ones looked down on them, the Twelve Ancestor Witches also scorned those immortals who only cultivated their spirits without training their bodies, viewing them as weak and insubstantial—so light that even a gust of wind could blow them away. Such useless beings could be crushed with just a finger!
The Twelve Ancestor Witches took an unconventional path, rushing forward without looking back, choosing to cultivate their strength rather than the Primordial Spirit, boldly rejecting the traditional way of enlightenment. Along the way, they even gave a middle finger to the Primordial beings who were walking the Great Dao of understanding Dao Law at the Purple Cloud Palace, showing their disdain.
The Twelve Ancestor Witches had no interest in Hongjun's teachings at the Purple Cloud Palace. They were not cultivating the Primordial Spirit, so what did it matter to them? While many Primordial beings collectively headed towards the Purple Cloud Palace outside the Thirty-Three Heavens, the Twelve Ancestor Witches remained calm and continued with their own affairs, unaffected—except for Houtu.
Ancestral Witch Houtu was the only female among the Twelve Ancestor Witches. Her thoughts were much more delicate and cautious compared to her rough-and-tumble brothers. The teachings at the Purple Cloud Palace, which could greatly enhance the cultivation of Primordial beings, must have something extraordinary about them. Houtu wondered what kind of person Hongjun was to possess such abilities. When the time came for another session at the Purple Cloud Palace, and seeing many Primordial beings rushing out towards the Thirty-Three Heavens, Houtu couldn't sit still any longer. If Hongjun truly had such capabilities that could elevate all who listened to his teachings, what would happen to those of them who did not attend and did not cultivate the Primordial Spirit?
Houtu shared her concerns with her fellow Ancestral Shamans, only to be met with laughter. They comforted her, saying, "Don't worry! Those beings are nothing; I could crush them with a single finger! Why fear them? We walk a path similar to Pangu, the Primordial Father God. How could Hongjun be stronger than Pangu?"
Despite their reassurances, Houtu's worries did not diminish. Looking at her carefree brothers who seemed unconcerned, she felt deeply troubled. Having a group of strong yet simple-minded brothers was quite a burden!
Thus, taking advantage of her brothers' absence, Houtu secretly made her way to the Purple Cloud Palace.
Comment 0 Comment Count