Chapter Ten: Hellish Training

After Brother Broken Head regained consciousness, he refused to stay in the New Disciples’ Courtyard to enjoy the care of the trio of attendants. As soon as Mingshuang and Yun Ting left, he grabbed his healing salves and ran off, leaving behind the three who could barely stand the sight of each other.

Just as Ling Qiqi was about to slip away, the messenger paper crane sent by Ah Jiu fluttered into the room. Chi Xiaoxiao, quick as ever, snatched the crane, unfolded it, and glanced at the message within. Then she turned to Cheng Yu with a look of sympathy.

“Brother Cheng Yu, the next round of the new disciples’ competition is in two days. Take care of yourself.” Chi Xiaoxiao patted Cheng Yu’s shoulder and continued, “Look at the matches among the top six groups—either it’s fists and kicks until everyone’s black and blue, or someone summons a fierce dragon to roar and knock people unconscious with internal injuries. I wonder if you can handle it.”

Cheng Yu’s eyelid twitched at her words. He recalled the battles during the previous newcomers’ competition. Most participants didn’t know any spells, but their physical blows were ruthless—one punch to the eye could leave a ring of black and blue.

“Heavens…” Cheng Yu shuddered; the more he thought about it, the more terrified he became. If he were blasted away by a dazzling spell, that would be one thing, but to be beaten until he was swollen and unrecognizable was simply too cruel.

Chi Xiaoxiao coughed pointedly, her eyes crinkling with a mischievous smile as she winked at Cheng Yu. With a casual flick, three or four little fire lotuses spun around him, her intentions all too clear.

Catching on at once, Cheng Yu abandoned his dignity and yielded to the powers that be. He dropped to his knees, hugged Chi Xiaoxiao’s leg, and cried out, “Oh, my dearest, my precious cotton candy! You must help me!”

Ling Qiqi, standing by the door and watching the fire lotuses, broke out in goosebumps at the display.

Cheng Yu’s over-the-top theatrics thoroughly satisfied Chi Xiaoxiao. He loved it when others openly acknowledged his power, especially with a third party present—it was a balm to his vanity.

And so began two days of special training tailored for this hapless one. Skills that required long-term practice and a solid foundation, such as agile footwork and combat techniques, were all left out of the curriculum. Chi Xiaoxiao had no illusions that Cheng Yu, who was hopeless at everything, could master such things in a short time.

“Given your rather unimpressive abilities, I plan to design a killer move for you—something that can flatten your opponent in one stroke,” Teacher Chi Xiaoxiao said for once with seriousness. “You're a dual spirit root of wood and fire, which isn’t so bad. We’ll catch them off guard.”

As for the specifics of this surprise attack, Chi Xiaoxiao kept it a secret. When pressed incessantly by Cheng Yu, the little tyrant shyly replied that it would be as unexpected as a future mother-in-law’s cooking.

Though he never wasted a chance for idle chatter, Chi Xiaoxiao was earnest in his teaching. He first imparted to Cheng Yu the simplest, most basic fire cultivation technique, at least allowing him to learn how to absorb spiritual energy, before commencing fire conjuring drills.

“I don’t think this is going to work. You’d better just teach me how to fight,” Cheng Yu sighed, discouraged after repeated failures despite Chi Xiaoxiao’s personal instruction. He just couldn’t grasp spellcasting at all.

“Don’t lose heart, Brother Cheng Yu,” Chi Xiaoxiao comforted him. “Many people practice for ages before they can master even a basic spell. Try thinking about things that make you angry—when you’re furious enough, who knows, you might just set something alight.”

Cheng Yu wanted to say that the current situation was infuriating enough—he was already on edge, his frustration mounting. He knew the theory inside and out, but he just couldn’t pull it off in practice. And how did Chi Xiaoxiao so easily summon those lotus flames, anyway?

Ling Qiqi, for reasons unknown even to herself, took the initiative to watch Chi Xiaoxiao coach Cheng Yu. Seeing his flushed, overheated appearance, she kindly conjured a mist to cool him down.

Chi Xiaoxiao, though he grumbled, “Sister, are you ill?” did not send her away. Instead, he reluctantly sought her advice about casting spells for the first time.

Ever since she had accidentally glimpsed a sliver of destiny, Ling Qiqi had become much more composed. She no longer quarreled over old scores with Chi Xiaoxiao and earnestly recalled her own experience.

She had grown up with only her mother—her father had never been in the picture. Her mother was bedridden with illness, and their lives depended on the charity of the villagers. Then, one day, her mother seemed suddenly revitalized and took Ling Qiqi boating on the lake. When they reached the center, her mother, catching her off guard, slapped her into the water. Struggling to the surface, Ling Qiqi was dealt another blow on the head, and suddenly her mind was filled with countless cultivation manuals and secret techniques. Before she could recover, her mother struck her a third time, sending her back into the water.

Those three slaps from her own mother left little Qiqi utterly dazed. She sank like a stone, water pouring into her nose and mouth. As she was about to drown, a flash of insight struck; drawing on the new knowledge in her mind, she manipulated the lake water to create a large bubble that carried her to the surface.

“When I came up, my mother was already collapsed on the boat. No matter how I cried and called, she never woke again,” Ling Qiqi said, her eyes rimmed red.

Cheng Yu was stunned. As the original author, he had never imagined his heroine had such a melodramatic childhood. In his rough notes, she could teach herself spells because of her half-demonic heritage. Who would have thought her mother had made such a sacrifice?

Chi Xiaoxiao fell silent as well, his head bowed in thought.

Cheng Yu, not skilled at comforting others, attempted to lighten the mood. He forced a laugh and said, “Who knew you went through all that? Maybe Chi Xiaoxiao should slap me three times too and see if my brain unlocks.”

Ling Qiqi gave him a strange look, her earlier sadness gone. “Senior Brother Ling Xiaozi said that’s a secret technique for passing on knowledge. If he tried to transfer what’s in his head to you, he’d be a fool afterwards.”

Chi Xiaoxiao readily agreed, “Never mind whether I’d turn into an idiot—just the idea of slapping you three times is out of the question. First, I couldn’t bear to hit you, and second, I’d probably kill you with the first slap. Still, Ling Qiqi’s experience is worth considering—people can summon an incredible will to survive when in danger. Maybe that’s what you need to condense a fire spirit.”

Cheng Yu’s instincts screamed danger. The two before him seemed all too eager to try, and not just the little tyrant—why did even his beloved heroine look so expectant?

...

Cheng Yu, having just escaped from the flames, tumbled to the ground, coughing and rolling to extinguish the fire on his clothes. Moments ago, he’d narrowly dodged a fire serpent’s strike, only to be caught in a shrinking ring of fire with no choice but to charge through—leaving him in this sorry state.

Before he could catch his breath, Chi Xiaoxiao summoned a rain of meteor fire. Sparks landed on his hair and robes, igniting them anew and sending him into a fit of panicked screams, curling up as the scorched earth left him nowhere to roll.

Ling Qiqi, unable to watch any longer, conjured a small water ball and hurled it at Cheng Yu, dousing the flames in his hair. But the water evaporated instantly in the heat.

“You demon, just kill me!” Cheng Yu wailed, eyes streaming with smoke-induced tears, voice hoarse and desperate.

Not wanting to push him too far, Chi Xiaoxiao sighed and waved his sleeve. At once, the rampant flames vanished without a trace.

Cheng Yu collapsed on the ground, half dead. Ling Qiqi hurried over and wrapped him in a large cocoon of water, offering the faint comfort of relief after his ordeal.

“Rest a while and we’ll continue,” Chi Xiaoxiao said, his playful manner gone, face cold and impassive—every inch the envoy of infernal fire. “I told you, no running away, no fear. Did you even listen to me?”

Hearing that training would continue, Cheng Yu thought he might as well die and let his opponent beat him to a pulp. Anything was better than this torture—he was just a child, after all.

“Cough, cough... Can we stop now? Maybe I just don’t have the gift for cultivation. After this competition, I’ll head down the mountain and become a farmer,” Cheng Yu pleaded from within the water cocoon, his voice as pitiful as a broken bellows.

Chi Xiaoxiao frowned. “How can you give up so easily? Since you chose to join Celestial Jade Gate and become an apprentice, you must have resolved to cultivate. If you give up at the first setback, you wouldn’t even be able to farm. The first hot day and you’d quit.”

Cheng Yu, who in his former world had never touched a hoe, was speechless. He had arrived on the mountain when he transmigrated, unable to leave without formal disciple status or bypass the sect’s wards. What could he do?

Whether it was cultivation or farming, it made little difference to Cheng Yu—he just wanted to stay alive. Who knew when a nobody like him, who even had to name himself, might meet his end? So much around him had already diverged from the book’s plot that he couldn’t rely on his foreknowledge anymore. Overwhelmed, Cheng Yu burst into tears.

He sobbed, “I never should have been so addicted to novels. My fate is so bitter—novels are a trap, woooo...”

Ling Qiqi, once the queen of weeping but now graduated from the art, fumbled to comfort him. She also realized how exhausting constant wailing could be. It made her wonder if Senior Brother Ling Xiaozi had found her tiresome back when she cried so much.

This thought made Ling Qiqi realize that even if fate had shifted, she could still love her senior brother. With this, she felt suddenly enlightened and couldn’t help but smile.

From Cheng Yu’s perspective, his own heroine laughing at his tears could only mean she was mocking him—so he cried even harder.