Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
He was not a genius. Compared to geniuses, he was far too mediocre, just an ordinary person. Throughout his life, from childhood to adulthood, he had always been average. He could never grasp what his grandfather taught him and could only read various trivial books to comfort his own feelings of inferiority. All his friends were geniuses: Zhao Yang, Long Xiao Wu, Nangong Wuxin, and Song Baliang. Even a delicate girl like Liu Rou was a genius.
He remembered that when he entered the Myriad Spirit Sect, if it weren't for his good fortune in knowing Zhao Yang, he might have already become a lost soul. It was precisely because of knowing Zhao Yang that his life began to change. He wanted to be a speaker who could persuade the world; he longed for a Cultivation World free of disputes, where everyone loved one another.
However, the world was not as beautiful as he imagined. Many things were unattainable. He worked hard on his Cultivation, meditating and practicing every day, but he just couldn't become as powerful as his friends. He felt lost. Thus, his major focus shifted from sword training to talisman crafting, and then from talisman crafting to healing. Yet he still found himself utterly useless. He felt that people like Zhao Yang and Song Baliang, who were physically strong, didn't even need healing.
When he gathered with his friends, others would always laugh at him for being worthless, although Zhao Yang had always treated him like a brother.
But there were moments when his heart truly ached.
When the Heavenly Dao held him in its grasp,
The Heavenly Dao laughed and said, "Look at you, so pathetic; you will never achieve anything great in your life. Those who wish to accomplish great things can even kill their closest kin; how much more so for trash like you who drags others down? We trade money for garbage!"
Yet Zhao Yang had previously said, "You know he's just a subordinate—merely someone who drags others down."
When he heard these words, it felt like needles piercing his heart. Although he knew Zhao Yang didn't mean it sincerely, he still couldn't get past that hurdle in his heart. He felt that perhaps he truly was worthless.
The reason was simple: he had a weak personality and had always relied on the strong. If it weren't for Zhao Yang's ability to see through people's hearts and understand their thoughts, if it weren't for his compassion towards the weak and desire to lend him a hand, perhaps he would have already become a corpse. Killing him would be as easy as squashing an ant for Zhao Yang.
He once foolishly dreamed of becoming someone like Zhao Yang one day—someone who could stand shoulder to shoulder with him in battle and even defeat him.
He was unremarkable in appearance and somewhat older than most; in his twenties, he mixed with a group of seventeen- or eighteen-year-olds but always held them back.
Most importantly, he was a practitioner with Three Spiritual Roots. In the hierarchy of Cultivation aptitude levels, talents were divided into various grades. His Three Spiritual Roots were known as Mixed Spiritual Roots—the most useless basic attribute. Just like his Water Spiritual Root, aside from turning into drinkable water, it served no purpose whatsoever.
He even thought about using his Water Spiritual Root to commit suicide because he felt so weak.
He always remembered how painful it was during that year when he traveled through the mortal realm with Nangong Wuxin—three sects had rejected him outright. They refused practitioners with Mixed Spiritual Roots and bluntly called him trash.
Every time he was turned away, he would complain that they lacked vision and would surely regret it in the future; no one took his words to heart.
Only Nangong Wuxin silently patted his shoulder to encourage him.
Once, a medium-sized sect was recruiting disciples. Upon seeing Nangong Wuxin's talent, they openly stated that he could bring his attendant along into the sect, but his attendant would not enjoy the same treatment as ordinary disciples.
Nangong Wuxin firmly refused. He knew that it was out of concern for his attendant's pride that he had made such a decisive rejection.
Although he believed in the principle that a genius is a genius no matter where they are, he couldn't help but feel discontent. He felt like he was dragging his friend down. That year, Nangong Wuxin had not consumed a single pill and had almost no cultivation resources. The Myriad Spirit Sect had been destroyed, and the naive Nangong Wuxin was not as clever as Zhao Yang. While Zhao Yang could earn as many Spiritual Pills as he wanted or even take them by force, Nangong Wuxin had always been a Shixiong of the Myriad Spirit Sect, where no one dared to provoke him. Elixirs were like food to him. However, after the destruction of the Myriad Spirit Sect, stepping out of the sect made Nangong Wuxin realize how difficult it was to conduct business.
Yet, he kept these difficulties to himself because Scholar Xiu was his good friend, and he feared hurting Scholar Xiu's pride.
Perhaps Scholar Xiu and Zhao Yang were not of the same kind; they were not suited to be friends. How could a worthless person be friends with a genius?
Otherwise, why did he have no parents? Why did his only remaining family member, his grandfather, leave him without a word?
The Central Sovereign noticed Scholar Xiu's hesitation and smiled slightly. "A true man does not suffer immediate losses; being adaptable is what makes a great man. As long as you plead for mercy, I can spare your life and grant you the position of High Priest in the royal family. I have no demands of you. This young lady can also become your wife."
Upon hearing the Central Sovereign's words, Scholar Xiu began to cry. He was not foolish; especially after getting to know Zhao Yang, he understood that the Central Sovereign might be speaking the truth. While the Central Sovereign could never obtain Zhao Yang's precious techniques, he could strike at Zhao Yang before his death, showing him just how pathetic his situation truly was.
Scholar Xiu did not want to betray Zhao Yang but also did not wish to die.
If he pleaded for mercy, Zhao Yang might kill him immediately since he had repeatedly stated that betrayal was what he hated most. Scholar Xiu believed that with Zhao Yang's strength, there would be no way for him to escape if Zhao Yang wanted him dead. He also knew that Zhao Yang had many hidden powers yet to be revealed, but this was certainly not the time for them to surface; against the powerful royal family of Zhongzhou Continent, any means seemed utterly futile.
Scholar Xiu remained in agony as he glanced at Zhao Yang, knowing that Zhao Yang was awake.
Zhao Yang indeed was awake. He sighed inwardly; it was once again a moment to test human nature. He despised betrayal; in his previous life on Earth, various betrayals had filled his life with unhappiness.
In this life, the first person to betray him was the beautiful young beggar leader Li Yunshan in Yuwang City. Due to this betrayal, he sentenced Li Yunshan to death and crippled his cultivation, leading Li Yunshan to ultimately take his own life. Reflecting on it now still left him with a sense of regret.
Now faced with this situation again, he briefly considered killing Scholar Xiu but could not bring himself to do it. Just like his philosophical beliefs suggested, everyone has the right to live. Scholar Xiu had no reason to die alongside him; he wanted to live but did not want to betray Zhao Yang, so fear gripped him.
Having died once before, he was unafraid now. He had read extensively and understood many principles; this was why when he first met Sun Wukong at a young age, Sun Wukong was astonished by the purple aura above his head reaching toward the heavens.
It was precisely because of his extensive reading and experiences that he could achieve Enlightenment so quickly and succeed in Enlightenment at the Qi Refinement Stage.
But in this world, there is only one Zhao Yang; he cannot force others to choose the right to live.
Zhao Yang closed his eyes and said nothing.
The only regret in his heart was not having seen Yu Qingsnow.
He remembered when he parted ways with Yu Qingsnow, her eyes were red, as if she feared she would never see him again. He had no idea whether Yu Qingsnow was alive or dead.
Central Sovereign noticed Scholar Xiu's expression, realizing something. He said, "Are you afraid Zhao Yang will kill you? That's understandable."
There were no colorful lights, no earth-shattering explosions, and no dazzling formations or divine techniques. With a snap of his fingers, Central Sovereign could turn anyone beneath him into ashes.
Zhao Yang lay down quietly. When he died, his fingers were still tightly gripping Liu Rou's hand, just as he had held someone's hand when he was very young, walking through a bustling street. Until that large hand disappeared, he wandered the street searching for it. He could no longer remember who that person was.
He vaguely closed his eyes, looking so peaceful. At some moment in his past life, he had appeared asleep, and many girls passing by his desk after class couldn't help but steal a glance at him, wanting to gently kiss his face and comfort this always sorrowful and weary boy.
At one point, Zhao Yang thought that one day he would have a girlfriend who would be the pride of his life—someone who could silently support him from behind and offer him advice when he faced insurmountable challenges, so he wouldn't have to bear everything alone.
A man, even if he is a great hero, has moments of weakness.
Living in this world always requires warmth.
Yet when he died, Sun Wukong did not appear, nor did any of the legendary beings; it seemed that his death was no different from that of ordinary disciples.
The sky remained clear, with no sign of thunder or rain.
"No!" Scholar Xiu cried out in anguish. He didn't want to die, but he also didn't want Zhao Yang to die. He knelt before Zhao Yang, facing his lifelong mentor and brother, feeling ashamed in his heart.
Because even when facing death, Zhao Yang remained so serene.
He heard the conversation between him and Central Sovereign but did not move to kill him. This indicated that he had granted Scholar Xiu the right to live.
A single person cannot stand against a dynasty; this has been true since ancient times.
However, at this moment, the usually gentle and lovely Liu Rou pushed Scholar Xiu away. She thought Scholar Xiu was a coward, but she respected Zhao Yang's choice. With tears streaming down her face, she silently hugged Zhao Yang, pouting slightly as she softly called out, "Brother Zhao Yang."
She remembered how her brother Zhao Yang had stared at her with wide eyes and drooling when he first saw her, like a lecher.
Yet, she had never seen a man with such clear eyes, nor had she encountered someone so handsome.
Everyone said she had a fragrant scent about her, even her brother Zhao Yang said so. But she also detected a fragrance on Zhao Yang that captivated her; it was a scent she found enchanting.
She recalled that night on Ice Fire Island when her brother Zhao Yang took out a blanket from the cave and spread it on the ground for her to sleep on while he kept watch beside her. When she woke up in the night, he was quietly lying on the ground next to her like a guardian. In that moment, she felt deeply moved by this young man.
He was always so proactive when he saw her; everyone knew how much he liked her. This affection was different from the admiration others showed her. She couldn't quite articulate what made it different, but if she had to say, it was because she admired him too.
"Now, it is time for your choice," came the cold voice of the Central Sovereign. It seemed he relished such moments, witnessing how ugly human nature could be and how fragile friendship was in the face of adversity. Scholar Xiu froze for a moment as he looked at Liu Rou's tear-streaked face and at Nangong Wuxin, Song Baliang, and the Four Divine Monks who still drew breath.
Suddenly, he turned his focus inward and began to straighten his appearance, adjusting his slightly askew collar and cuffs. He carefully tied his hair back and laid his robe flat across his lap. He had never taken such care with himself before.
Scholar Xiu said, "Please grant me death."
Comment 0 Comment Count