Chapter 210: Yu Zhao! You Have No Heart!
This novel is translated and hosted only on BCatranslation
When Ye Cong Xin spoke those words, her intent was straightforward—to force Silence to bow his head and ask her to stay willingly. However, she had not anticipated that Silence’s personality was far more explosive than his usual icy demeanor suggested.
“Knock! Knock!”
Two consecutive knocks from a wooden fish echoed through the air. Unworried felt a surge of unease. Before he could intervene, Silence erupted like a string of firecrackers, firing off his words in rapid succession.
“If you’ve already noticed that I don’t welcome you, you should have the decency to shut your mouth and stop yapping like a sieve all day! Do you think you’re Yu Zhao? That everyone will love you? Wake up and stop dreaming!”
Silence, ever sharp-tongued, knew exactly where to strike to hurt.
At first, Ye Cong Xin managed to maintain her composure. But when Yu Zhao’s name was mentioned, her expression twisted into a grimace. She despised being compared to Yu Zhao, especially when the comparison belittled her.
What did Yu Zhao have besides good fortune? In what way could she even compare to her?
“Silence, have you forgotten the teachings of the abbot again?” Unworried shot him a glare, signaling him to stop speaking. He then turned to Ye Cong Xin, offering a sincere apology.
Ye Cong Xin dug her nails into her palm, leaving crescent-shaped imprints tinged with red, and barely suppressed her anger. Her expression stiffened as she replied, “Senior Brother Unworried, for your sake, I won’t hold it against him.”
But even as she spoke, her sinister gaze swept over Silence like a shadow. Compared to Unworried’s upright and dignified demeanor, she loathed Silence’s venomous tongue and unfiltered malice even more.
If only she had the chance to make Silence vanish from the Floating Island forever…
Her lowered eyes hid a thousand thoughts as schemes churned in her mind.
…
Meanwhile…
“Fellow Daoist Lan, I discovered this Black Spirit Ginseng first. Please return it to me.” Si Tu Xuan struggled to contain his frustration as he addressed Lan Zi Yu, who was clutching the prized ginseng.
Half an hour earlier, Si Tu Xuan had spotted the ginseng growing in a patch of moist, fertile soil. His lack of experience caused him to alarm the plant during harvesting, and it awakened and fled. Si Tu Xuan gave chase, but just as he was about to capture it, Lan Zi Yu appeared and intercepted it.
Si Tu Xuan had assumed that as a disciple of a reputable sect, Lan Zi Yu would return the ginseng after hearing the circumstances. However, to his shock, Lan Zi Yu casually stashed the ginseng in his storage bracelet and sneered, “Herbs have no owners. Whoever captures them owns them. Blame your bad luck.”
Si Tu Xuan’s face darkened. “Lan Zi Yu, I’ll ask you one last time—will you return the Black Spirit Ginseng?”
“Not a chance!” Lan Zi Yu smirked coldly. “If you’re upset, try and take it from me.”
“Very well! You said it yourself!”
Si Tu Xuan summoned a long spear with a wave of his hand, its gleaming edge cutting through the air as he launched a bolt of lightning toward Lan Zi Yu.
“Child’s play!” Lan Zi Yu scoffed. He retrieved a bamboo flute from his storage space and played a low melody. Invisible ripples emanated from the sound, deflecting the lightning strike.
Si Tu Xuan sidestepped the deflected attack, fury blazing in his eyes. With a thunderous roar, he infused his arm with spiritual energy and hurled his spear forward. It transformed into a radiant arc, hurtling straight toward Lan Zi Yu’s face.
Lan Zi Yu leaped back swiftly, his figure retreating in an elegant arc, yet the music of his flute only grew more intense. The piercing notes filled the air as the long spear shot through multiple waves of ripples, advancing toward Lan Zi Yu. But just as it was about to reach him, the spear’s trajectory abruptly shifted, veering off course to the right.
Si Tu Xuan’s fingers formed a seal in an attempt to summon the spear back. However, the sharp, needle-like flute sound stabbed into his Sea of Consciousness, causing him to groan in pain.
“Ugh!” he grunted, his face instantly pale as beads of cold sweat broke out on his forehead. His vision darkened, and his knees buckled under him. Gasping for breath, he knelt on the ground, his body trembling.
Lan Zi Yu stopped playing, gazing down at him with a sneer. “The young master of the Si Tu family? This is all you amount to?”
Si Tu Xuan clenched his teeth and lifted his head, fury blazing in his eyes.
Lan Zi Yu smirked wickedly. “Pathetic. A total waste,” he spat, enunciating each word mockingly. Then, as if unsatisfied, he added, “Don’t think that placing in the top three makes you special. Even if you were first, you wouldn’t matter to me.”
“Is that so?” a calm voice interrupted.
Before Lan Zi Yu could react, his body was hurled backward as if struck by an invisible force. He crashed into a pile of mud with a resounding thud, filthy sludge splattering all over him.
A hand appeared in Si Tu Xuan’s vision. Forcing himself to look up, he saw the familiar figure of Yu Zhao, and a flicker of relief brightened his face.
“Yu Daoist,” he murmured.
Yu Zhao gave a slight nod. Si Tu Xuan, despite his injuries, felt a surge of hope. He hesitated briefly before grasping her hand and slowly pulling himself upright.
“Can you still walk?” Yu Zhao asked.
“I’ll manage,” Si Tu Xuan replied, though his shaky voice betrayed his struggle. He fished out a pill from his robe and swallowed it, though it was clear he was barely holding on.
Yu Zhao frowned slightly. “What were you two fighting about?”
She had been drawn by the flute’s sound and arrived just in time to hear Lan Zi Yu’s arrogant words. She decided to test their truth and, in doing so, proved them utterly baseless.
Before Si Tu Xuan could answer, Lan Zi Yu’s shrill voice cut in.
“Yu Zhao! How dare you hit me!” he roared, storming toward them, his body caked in mud. His sharp, almost flute-like voice mirrored his anger.
Yu Zhao raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly smile. “I’ve already done it. Don’t you think it’s a bit late to protest?”
Lan Zi Yu trembled with rage. “Oh, I see how it is. You’re defending some wild man and attacking me, your senior brother! Who is he to you? Why are you protecting him like this?”
“Lan Zi Yu,” Yu Zhao’s voice turned icy, “how many times do I have to say it? You are no longer my senior brother.”
“You think leaving the sect erases our bond?” Lan Zi Yu shrieked, his face contorted in indignation. “Dream on! You owe me, Yu Zhao! You’ll never repay this debt, not in a lifetime!”
“Owe you?” Yu Zhao found his words laughable. No wonder Lan Zi Yu always acted so entitled, bossing her around as though it were his right. He genuinely believed she was indebted to him.
“And what exactly do I owe you? That broken flute? I gave it back long ago.”
“You dare call the Purple Cloud Bamboo Flute a broken flute?” Lan Zi Yu gasped as if struck. “I crafted that with my own hands! Yu Zhao, you have no heart!”
“You’re right—I don’t,” Yu Zhao retorted sharply. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have let you slander my name and spread lies about me for so long. I should have cut ties with you ages ago.”
Lan Zi Yu was momentarily speechless, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Then, his humiliation turned to rage. “So what if I said a few things? At least I never laid a finger on you! Yet here you are, hitting me for another man. That’s far worse!”