Chapter 116: You Don't Quite Seem Like a Cultivator

In the rear courtyard of the Qian residence, two figures were present—one inside the yard, the other with Cheng Huang just outside the gate.

Leaning against the courtyard wall, Jiang Lin pondered life’s mysteries, a blade of grass dangling from his lips. Cheng Huang remained silent.

Finally, the one lying on the ground couldn’t hold back any longer and softly called out:

“Hey, beast.”

Jiang Lin wiped his face deeply. “How could I, Snake, fall so low as to be called a beast by an actual beast?”

“I’m not a beast! I’m a spiritual beast!” Cheng Huang snapped back.

Jiang Lin rolled his eyes, a mix of scorn and disdain in his voice. “So what? You still won’t let me ride you.”

Cheng Huang, known as Youyou, bristled instantly. “We Cheng Huang are not for anyone to ride!”

“Tch, that’s just another way of saying you won’t let me ride.”

“You…” Cheng Huang crouched low, baring his teeth fiercely. His sharp horns made him look formidable—indeed quite handsome—but no matter how striking, they couldn’t compare to the soft, dragon-like horns atop Nian Nian’s head...

Thinking of Nian Nian, Jiang Lin sighed again.

Maybe it was time to return home. He wondered if any troublemakers at the academy were chasing after his little Nian Nian—after all, she was so adorable.

If not, then their eyes must be blind. But if there were, they’d better think twice—who would dare touch his precious little one?

Putting away his wandering thoughts, Jiang Lin glanced sideways at Cheng Huang, who was still growling at him.

“Stop shouting. You’re still not letting me ride.”

“Human! I’m ready to fight you!”

Cheng Huang pawed the ground, ready to charge.

“Teacher…”

“Youyou…”

Just as Cheng Huang was about to clash with Jiang Lin, Qian Xiaopang and Hu Shuang emerged together.

“Hmph!” Cheng Huang grunted and immediately transformed back into a little girl, walking over to Hu Shuang’s side.

Jiang Lin looked at Qian Xiaopang, whose sorrow was written all over his face beside Hu Shuang, and he already knew how this would end.

“Miss Hu Shuang, Donglin City has been encircled by a formation. Forcing your way out would only turn you into a blood mist. If you intend to leave, please wait a few nights,” Jiang Lin conveyed telepathically to Hu Shuang. Her eyes flickered in surprise—she hadn’t sensed anything unusual about Donglin City.

But Jiang Lin had no intention of seizing her treasures; beyond wanting to ride Youyou, he had no other thoughts.

For now, Hu Shuang could trust him.

Seeing Hu Shuang nod at him, Jiang Lin said no more, walking over to put his arm around Qian Xiaopang’s shoulders as they slowly left.

“Hu Shuang, that little chubby guy is actually pretty good... don’t you want to give him a chance?”

Youyou watched Jiang Lin holding the downcast Qian Zhenduo and couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity. Though he was chubby and a local rich kid, his heart was kind—far better than those always wanting to ride her.

Hu Shuang didn’t reply to Youyou’s words, simply shaking her head slowly and watching the chubby figure retreat until he disappeared from view before withdrawing her gaze.

...

Walking along the pebble path, Xiaopang remained silent, Jiang Lin comforting him with a hand on his shoulder.

“If you want to cry, just cry. Men crying isn’t a crime.”

“Waaah~~~ Teacher~~~”

Suddenly, Qian Xiaopang threw himself into Jiang Lin’s arms and sobbed bitterly, his voice full of despair—as if the cherished figurine he bought with all his savings had just been trampled by a mischievous child...

“Alright, that’s enough crying…”

“Teacher~~~”

“Stop crying~~~”

“Teacher, I’m so heartbroken~~~”

“Why cry? Men must be strong! Crying won’t get you any girls!”

Jiang Lin slapped Xiaopang lightly on the head.

Qian Xiaopang looked up, tears brimming in his eyes. He wanted to retort but feared another slap from his teacher...

Caught between crying and not crying, he whimpered softly.

Seeing his sadness, Jiang Lin patted his shoulder and sat down by the pond’s edge. Naturally, Xiaopang sat beside him.

“Xiaopang, what did you say to Miss Hu Shuang just now?”

“I told her I liked her.”

“And?”

“She said she didn’t like me. She’s a cultivator, and I’m just an ordinary person—the path is different.” Xiaopang wiped his nose and whispered, “Teacher, you’re a cultivator too, right? You must have known Miss Hu Shuang is one as well.”

“Mm.”

Jiang Lin nodded, plucking a blade of grass to pick his teeth. “I’m quite familiar with the formation she set up in the courtyard; our sect uses that same one for raising chickens and ducks.”

“...”

The two fell silent again. After a long pause, Xiaopang finally spoke.

“Teacher... what is the ‘Great Way’?”

“The Great Way?” Jiang Lin pondered, frowning. Then he gave a sincere answer. “Who the hell knows?”

“Huh?” Xiaopang was stunned. “But don’t all cultivators have their own Great Way and Dao Heart?”

“They do,” Jiang Lin spat the grass into the pond. “But I’m probably different...”

Thinking it best not to fool Xiaopang, he continued:

“My Great Way isn’t very solid. Honestly, I don’t even know how I cultivate. Most cultivators have faith or conviction as their Dao Heart, but for me, it’s like I don’t have one. If I had to say, it’s people.”

“People?”

“Yeah.” Jiang Lin nodded. “The people I care about, I think of them as my Great Way.”

“Teacher, I don’t think you’re much of a cultivator.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Because you’re so human.”

Xiaopang frowned. “Before, many cultivators visited our Qian residence. They all acted so high and mighty, looking at us with cold indifference, as if they were naturally superior. But you? You don’t have that. You seem like an ordinary person.”

“Heh, well, thank you.”

Lowering his head, Xiaopang mumbled, “Teacher, is the Great Way really heartless?”

Jiang Lin thought for a moment. “Who knows? If my Great Way really is heartless, then I’d rather have none.”

Xiaopang didn’t ask more or cry. He just watched the still lake, watching the colorful koi swim to and fro.

Jiang Lin didn’t disturb him, instead lying by the pond, basking in the sun like a salted fish...

Long after, as the sun dipped westward, painting the sky red...

“Teacher...”

“Hmm?”

“I want to cultivate!”

“Mm.”

...

Many years later.

There was a painter.

One who could conjure dragons with a stroke, sever seas with a brush.

Only...

He was somewhat stout...

At the pinnacle.