Chapter Twenty-One: Yuxi Yue's Secret

When Feng Qinghe stepped out of the room, it was already midnight. Jun Yang and You Xiyue had not left; they sat in the courtyard, waiting for Feng Qinghe to emerge.

“Master, Senior Brother Jun Yang.”

Feng Qinghe lowered his gaze, a little too embarrassed to meet You Xiyue’s eyes.

Jun Yang and You Xiyue both turned to look at him.

“Late Nascent Soul stage now—not a wasted meal, after all,” Jun Yang nodded in encouragement.

You Xiyue, however, mocked gently, “Nearly lost your life, though. Not a wasted meal indeed?”

Feng Qinghe’s ears flushed a faint red. “I will not be so reckless next time.”

You Xiyue looked away from him, instead teasing Xueyu with a phoenix feather.

Feng Qinghe stepped forward, biting his lip, unsure what to say to lessen You Xiyue’s disdain.

Jun Yang stood up, drew Feng Qinghe to sit beside him, and handed him a string of amethyst spirit grapes. “These are delicious—your master’s private stash. Try some.”

Feng Qinghe hesitated, glancing at You Xiyue.

Jun Yang, seeing Feng Qinghe’s dejected look, smiled and patted his shoulder. “This little ancestor always has this temper, but once she’s taken you in, she won’t abandon you. We’re family now—no need to be so reserved.”

You Xiyue glanced up at Feng Qinghe upon hearing Jun Yang’s words.

Feng Qinghe stood stiffly, spirit grapes in hand, like a soldier awaiting orders.

“Listen to your senior brother,” You Xiyue finally said, then lowered her head again.

“Yes.”

Feng Qinghe smiled—a three-hundred-year-old, yet he smiled like a child praised by his teacher.

He had been sent to Qinglan Sect as a child, with no family, no kin. The masters occasionally looked after him, but with so many disciples in the sect, any attention he received was spread thin.

Only when he was nearly a hundred did his fourth uncle, Feng Yanhua, find him and bring him back to the Feng clan. Only then did he learn he still had relatives—yet Feng Yanhua had his own children, and it seemed Feng Qinghe’s only role was to run errands.

Any task no one else wanted fell to him. No matter how hard he tried to live as one of the Feng clan, he always felt like an outsider.

Until he met You Xiyue and Jun Yang.

There were now people who cared about him from time to time.

People who would rush to his side at the first sign of danger, helping him out of peril.

People who would get angry at him and gift him magical treasures and spiritual herbs others could only envy.

Senior Brother Jun Yang would comfort him and share delicious food.

Feng Qinghe’s smile was as gentle and soft as his name.

He picked a grape from the string and popped it into his mouth.

“These really are tasty.”

Jun Yang smiled too. “You get good food when you follow your senior brother.”

“Ahem—” You Xiyue gave a small cough.

Jun Yang immediately corrected himself, “When you follow your master, the little ancestor, you get good food.”

Feng Qinghe chuckled under his breath, but seeing Jun Yang’s deadpan face, he couldn’t help bursting into laughter.

You Xiyue and Jun Yang exchanged a glance and joined in.

When their laughter faded, Feng Qinghe grew serious, stood, and bowed deeply to both.

“Thank you, Master. Thank you, Senior Brother.”

Jun Yang reached out to support him. “No need to be so formal.”

“This will be the last time.” Feng Qinghe sat down again, now much more at ease.

“Senior Brother, with my cultivation, how much Flameheart Golden Ginseng should I take at once?”

“A single bite,” Jun Yang replied, tossing a spirit grape into the air and catching it in his mouth.

“Being greedy is useless. Today, if your master hadn’t been here, you’d be dead or crippled.”

Feng Qinghe shivered in hindsight. “I understand.”

Thinking back on the ordeal, he asked You Xiyue, “Master, do you have both Thunder and Ice spiritual roots? Last time I saw you use thunder spells, and today you used ice spells to save me.”

“No,” You Xiyue answered.

“No?” Feng Qinghe was puzzled. How could that be? How could she use both types of spells otherwise?

Jun Yang swallowed another grape and explained, “Your master’s constitution is rather unique. Because you’re family, I’ll tell you.”

He glanced around warily, set up a soundproofing array, and continued, “Your master possesses the Hundredfold Spiritual Root.”

“The Hundredfold Spiritual Root?” Feng Qinghe’s confusion deepened. “I’ve never heard of that, not even in the legends of the Five Great Clans.”

“Naturally,” said Jun Yang, leaning in conspiratorially. “Not just your Five Great Clans—even in the two higher realms above this one, no one’s heard of it.”

“There are realms above the Upper Realm?” Feng Qinghe was no longer merely confused—he was shaken. “Above the Upper Realm... there are truly more continents?”

“Of course. But the people above don’t care for your resources and can’t be bothered to come down. None of you here are strong enough—an ascension ladder has stood for a million years and no one’s managed to climb it.”

“Do you mean the Divine Tribulation Ladder?” asked Feng Qinghe.

“That’s the one. But how can you call it a tribulation? You people are far too weak. Far too weak, alas!”

Feng Qinghe was at a loss for words—these were secrets that would shatter the sky of the Upper Realm.

“Even Yuan Yibai tried to get this out of me, and I said nothing. Just keep this to yourself. If you can’t survive that ladder’s trials, there’s no other way up—and the spirit pressure there would crush your very soul.”

“Is it even stronger than the spirit pressure on Master’s natal island?” Feng Qinghe asked.

“How could it compare?” Jun Yang finally looked at Feng Qinghe with a bit of disdain, as if to say, Look at you, so naive about the world.

Feng Qinghe scratched his forehead in embarrassment.

Jun Yang explained patiently, “On your master’s natal island, she can control the spirit pressure—she can suppress it to the lowest level. If she didn’t, even people from the realms above would struggle to withstand it.”

Feng Qinghe nodded in understanding and gazed at You Xiyue with renewed admiration. His master truly was formidable.

“Can I... go to those upper continents?” Feng Qinghe asked hopefully.

Jun Yang handed him another spirit grape. “As I said, follow your master and you’ll get good things to eat.”

“Mm!” Feng Qinghe accepted it with a smile and popped it into his mouth.

He was determined to become as strong as his senior brother.

He wouldn’t let his master disdain him again.

If he knew what You Xiyue truly thought, perhaps he wouldn’t imagine it so fondly—after all, You Xiyue even found Jun Yang a bother.

Xueyu, seeing Jun Yang and Feng Qinghe feasting, padded over and quietly approached the string of spirit grapes on the table. With a paw, he worked one loose, then swallowed it in a single gulp.

A fragrant, rich swirl of spiritual energy slowly coursed through Xueyu’s body.

Of course, Jun Yang couldn’t possibly miss this little act.

But since the white cat was the little ancestor everyone indulged, he went along as well.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder, “This cat’s a demon—how can it absorb spiritual energy?”