Chapter Forty: The Hellish Training Begins!

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In the mountains, beside a waterfall.

A waterfall soared a hundred feet high, with torrents of water plunging rapidly from its crest, grand and majestic as the Milky Way descending from the heavens. The massive and urgent current pummeled the rocks below with unrelenting force, and atop one of these rocks sat Lu Zhe, clad only in a pair of shorts.

“Hiss… ha… hiss… ha…” With his hands forming cultivation seals, Lu Zhe endured the onslaught of the waterfall. The water, powerful as a pillar, crashed upon him like a great boulder, the pain excruciating.

Were it only the water’s impact, Lu Zhe might have managed to persevere. The true challenge lay in the season—the end of autumn had brought a chill to the air, the temperature dropping so that the water felt icy as frost. Even a mere splash would be unbearable, let alone such a relentless torrent. Helpless, Lu Zhe had to circulate his spiritual energy to maintain his body temperature, lest he suffer frostbite from the cold.

Not far from Lu Zhe, Old Ye sat leisurely on the riverbank, a wooden stick in hand skewering a fish, which he roasted contentedly over the fire.

Old Ye cast a casual glance at Lu Zhe, turning the stick in his hands as the flames licked the fish, its skin crisping to a golden yellow, the aroma tantalizing.

He lifted the fish, brought it to his nose for a sniff, then left the bank, hopping across stones in the stream to stand three feet before Lu Zhe, who was on the brink of collapse beneath the waterfall.

Old Ye regarded Lu Zhe with cool detachment, extending the skewer toward him.

Eyes shut tight, brow furrowed, gasping for breath, Lu Zhe suddenly caught the scent of roasted fish. He opened his eyes and found, just before him, a fragrant, golden fish—crisp outside, tender within, its aroma drifting straight to his nose.

Seeing the hungry light in Lu Zhe’s eyes, Old Ye said calmly, “How long has it been?”

Clenching his teeth, Lu Zhe forced out a reply between breaths, “Three… three hours.”

Old Ye glanced up at the sky, then turned, skipped back across the stones, and planted the fish in the ground at his former seat, saying coolly, “One more hour.”

With that, he ignored Lu Zhe, sprawled out on a rock, crossed his legs, and closed his eyes to rest.

Watching Old Ye’s carefree demeanor, Lu Zhe cursed inwardly. Yet it was by his own request that he was cultivating the “Collapse Fist.” Resigned, he quickly spun his spiritual core, directing energy throughout his body to preserve his warmth.

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Time crept by, each second an eternity. Just as Lu Zhe was about to reach his limit, the mocking face of Shangguan Yijing from three years prior flashed in his mind. Gritting his teeth, veins bulging, he let out a roar and endured the water’s assault.

“All right,” Old Ye’s voice sounded at last.

Shortly after, seeing that Lu Zhe remained motionless, Old Ye called several times, but there was no response. Alarmed, he rushed over and dragged Lu Zhe out from under the waterfall.

Lu Zhe still sat cross-legged, unmoving. Examining him, Old Ye saw his face tinged blue and purple, his upper body red from the pounding water, his lower body blue from the cold.

Old Ye touched Lu Zhe’s face, and a bone-chilling cold seeped into his hand, startling him. Grabbing Lu Zhe’s right wrist, he checked his pulse.

“There’s still a faint pulse,” Old Ye muttered.

He glanced at Lu Zhe’s livid face, then swiftly formed a series of hand seals. Green light surged from his right hand, his fingers claw-like, pressing to the crown of Lu Zhe’s head. The green glow grew, spreading from Old Ye’s fingertips into Lu Zhe’s body, nourishing him as it flowed through his meridians.

After a while, Old Ye withdrew his hand, noticing the color returning to Lu Zhe’s cheeks. He breathed a sigh of relief and murmured, “This boy has no regard for his life.”

He then sat on a nearby rock, cross-legged, to recover the spiritual energy he had expended.

Lu Zhe, numbed by the freezing water, was barely conscious. He felt as though his entire body was cold, even his bones and blood, so numb he lost all sensation. Though he heard Old Ye’s words, he could not reply; his lips felt too heavy to move. He only sensed himself being dragged out of the water, then a gentle warmth flowing from his crown, threading through his meridians to every part of his body, soothing and nourishing him.

“Is this warmth my master’s healing?” Lu Zhe thought dimly.

Suddenly, the sound of “chi-chi, chi-chi” rang in his ears. It was Little White, the monkey, who had come leaping to his side. Seeing his motionless master, the monkey called out anxiously.

“Is that Little White?” Lu Zhe’s thought drifted.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. A sliver of gentle sunlight fell into them, and he raised his hand to shield himself from the glare.

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Once he had adjusted to the brightness, Lu Zhe opened his eyes fully and found himself draped in his black cloak, still otherwise undressed. Before him sat Old Ye, cross-legged, and beside him, the little monkey Little White, curled up and asleep.

“You’re awake,” Old Ye’s voice drifted to his ears.

“Master, what happened to me?” Lu Zhe rose and asked.

Old Ye slowly stood, shook out his green robe, and replied evenly, “It’s nothing. You merely passed out from the cold.”

Lu Zhe looked up at the sky, then exclaimed in surprise, “I… I slept for a whole day?”

Old Ye nodded.

Lu Zhe tossed off the cloak and dashed toward the waterfall.

Watching him, Old Ye called out in confusion, “What are you doing?”

Without turning, Lu Zhe replied, “Continuing my cultivation, of course.”

Old Ye’s eyes widened, his brows knitting as he snapped, “Do you have no regard for your life?”

At these words, Lu Zhe halted. After a moment, without looking back, he said, “Master, while I rest, perhaps Shangguan Yijing is training with all her might. She has the Windrider Sect and the Shangguan family behind her, but I have nothing. If I don’t work harder, I’ll only ever be trampled beneath her feet. Isn’t that so, Master?” His voice carried a note of sorrow.

Old Ye, startled by Lu Zhe’s words, raised his brows. He looked at Lu Zhe, already seated in meditation beneath the waterfall, then gazed skyward, sighing deeply. “Shangguan Yijing, Shangguan Yijing, of all things, why did you have to trample a boy’s last shred of dignity? A boy with blood in his veins—if even that final bit of dignity is taken, and by a girl no less—the strength he unleashes will be without limit.”

(I went to the hospital for a checkup. The doctor drew some blood, and my finger aches, so there will be a bit less today, but still three chapters. Please bookmark and recommend.)