Chapter Three: Pikachu the Power Generator

The male lead’s acute senses instantly detected Ling Qiqi, who was trying to slip away. Ignoring the sharp-tongued troublemaker blocking her path, she barged into the room and threw herself into her senior brother’s arms...

The soft whimper of a damsel in distress filled the silence between the two. Ming Shuang watched as his junior uncle’s face darkened the moment he turned around, faint crackles of thunder gathering in the air.

This was bad—very bad, extremely dangerous! Alarms blared in Ming Shuang’s mind. Without a second thought for gentlemanly manners, he stomped hard on Ling Qiqi’s foot and, as the girl cried out in surprise, rolled quickly aside.

Sure enough, just as he tumbled away, a bolt of lightning struck the spot where the two had shared their affectionate embrace. Poor Ling Qiqi’s long, dark, silky hair was instantly singed into a frizzy mess, and the scent of scorched protein filled the air.

The instigator’s beautiful, indifferent face betrayed not a hint of guilt. Instead, she righteously scolded Ling Qiqi for her lack of decorum and disrespect.

The young girl, devastated by her ruined hair and frightened to tears by Yun Ting, instinctively wanted to rush into her gentle senior brother Ling Xiaozi’s arms for comfort—only to find he had already slipped behind their junior uncle, playing the part of an emotionless bystander.

“Qiqi is new to our sect. If she has made mistakes, I hope you will forgive her,” said Ling Qiqi, her eyes brimming with tears, her hair a frizzled disaster.

“Why call me senior? Since you’re so close to Ling Xiaozi and plan to become a disciple under the Sect Leader, you should call me junior uncle,” Yun Ting replied, patting the head of the man behind him. “Ling Xiaozi is my dearest nephew—bet you didn’t expect that.”

Junior uncle? Was this sharp-tongued fiend actually the master of Kongming Peak, Kongmingzi? Why wasn’t he some strange old man? Ling Qiqi suppressed her complaints but obediently bowed and addressed him as junior uncle.

“I never knew senior brother and junior uncle were so close. He’s never mentioned it,” Ling Qiqi said with feigned innocence, though her teeth were clenched.

“How long have you even known Ling Xiaozi? You have no idea how inseparable we are,” Yun Ting retorted, patting Ming Shuang’s head and shooting a challenging look at the curly-haired girl trying to drive a wedge between them.

Ling Qiqi glared at Ling Xiaozi, who clung to Kongmingzi’s sleeve, and offered a suggestion: “Given the difference in status, perhaps junior uncle should keep a bit of distance from senior brother.”

“A difference in status? Hasn’t the Sect Leader told you Ling Xiaozi is to become my Dao companion?”

Now it was Ming Shuang’s turn to be dumbfounded. So this was the relationship between him and his junior uncle? No wonder the female lead looked as though she’d bitten into something bitter—the moment she gained power, she’d be sure to get rid of Yun Ting. Anyone daring to steal the female lead’s man was courting disaster.

Ling Qiqi’s expression darkened, and the urge to weep disappeared. In the past, her senior brother would have been distressed to see her tears, but lately, it seemed to have no effect. This wretched junior uncle only knew how to ruin her and her senior brother’s relationship—truly hateful.

“A month from now, there will be a competition for new disciples. I came to seek guidance from senior brother and hope he will instruct me,” Ling Qiqi forced a smile for her senior brother’s sake, though she seethed inside.

Before Ming Shuang could even think of a response, his junior uncle flatly refused, “He’s still recovering from serious injuries. If you sincerely wish to learn, let me teach you.”

You venomous, posturing, sharp-tongued wretch—if you teach me, won’t you nearly kill me in the process? Ling Qiqi wanted to curse Kongmingzi and all his ancestors, but seeing this as her only chance to stay near Ling Xiaozi, she bit her tongue and accepted her fate. She couldn’t understand what spell had been cast on her senior brother—ever since he started spending time with this wretch, he no longer cared for her.

Ming Shuang, oblivious to Ling Qiqi’s inner scheming, only knew that he was once again unlucky enough to share the stage with the female lead—such was the fate of a suffering male protagonist.

With two rivals secretly vying for dominance, Ming Shuang, the onlooker, thought it was clearly his junior uncle one-sidedly crushing and tormenting the female lead, showing no mercy.

“This isn’t right. Why didn’t junior uncle ever end up in the female lead’s harem? Wouldn’t an enemies-to-lovers arc be perfect?” Ming Shuang muttered to himself, lying under a blanket on a rocking chair, admiring the dazzling display of a cultivator’s magical prowess.

After an unrelenting lesson at the hands of junior uncle, Ling Qiqi was left with frizzy hair, ragged clothes, and a smudged, sooty face—she looked every bit the little beggar.

Girls hate nothing more than losing face in front of their beloved. She had thought that as a senior, Kongmingzi would show her some leniency. Who could have predicted he’d be a merciless, flower-crushing tyrant!

Seeing the girl’s sleeve half-torn, Ming Shuang kindly got up and offered Ling Qiqi his blanket to cover herself. To his surprise, she seized his soot-blackened hand and insisted he spar with her.

Heavens, he couldn’t perform any spells! Besides, standing up for the female lead would not only ingratiate himself with her but surely invite another round of “educational” punishment from his junior uncle.

“If you’re so sympathetic, why not spar with me yourself?” The junior uncle’s face revealed no emotion, but his eyes kept drifting to the blanket draped over Ling Qiqi’s shoulders.

What sympathy? Ming Shuang stared at his uncle’s palm, where sparks crackled. In his mind, a disgruntled Pikachu gave him a 100,000-volt warning.

“Please don’t zap me, junior uncle! My stomach hurts!” Desperate to survive, Ming Shuang clutched his stomach and crouched down, gasping.

Clouds of uncertainty passed over Yun Ting’s face, but out of an odd concern, he withdrew his spiritual power and carried Ming Shuang back to his room—in a princess carry, no less, and right in front of Ling Qiqi.

Wrapping herself tighter in the blanket, Ling Qiqi tried to follow, only to be coldly shut out by Kongmingzi. Pouting, she had no choice but to settle into the rocking chair her senior brother had just vacated.

Earlier, their “sparring” had been nothing more than a one-sided beating. Outwardly indifferent, Kongmingzi seemed to care little for her, but his lightning strikes were all perfectly aimed at the most painful spots—never causing visible wounds, only agony.

Ling Qiqi fumed inwardly at her cunning junior uncle. He’d humiliated her before her senior brother, yet left no evidence for her to complain of. What troubled her even more was his claim that he would form a Dao bond with her senior brother—was it true?

That wretched man only bullied her to lure away her senior brother! Clutching the blanket, Ling Qiqi cursed Kongmingzi in her heart. The feud was set.

Inside, Ming Shuang shivered under Yun Ting’s scrutinizing gaze, then shrank into the blankets like a turtle.

“Last night you said the Demon Lord’s attack left you muddleheaded. First, you forgot who I was—have you now forgotten all your spells as well?”

...

Silence. The kind of silence that explodes or destroys. If his uncle exploded, Ming Shuang would be finished.

After a long, tense quiet, Ming Shuang, fearing annihilation, muttered from beneath the covers, “Actually, it’s not just confusion... I’ve lost my memory, too...”

“I thought you’d gone daft. You’re nothing like you were before, but it doesn’t look like a case of possession,” Yun Ting replied.

The original Ling Xiaozi had always been a paragon of gentle virtue, the very image of a refined gentleman—perhaps a bit too universally considerate, though especially attentive to the female lead. By contrast, Ming Shuang was often scatterbrained, though at least possessed a modicum of sense. Still, he was far from Ling Xiaozi’s elegant demeanor.

In Yun Ting’s opinion, the old Ling Xiaozi would have leapt to defend any girl being bullied. If someone joked about becoming Dao companions, he’d have scolded them for being lazy and seeking shortcuts through dual cultivation.

“Being a bit silly is better than being dull,” Yun Ting remarked, quite satisfied with this new version—one who could laugh, cry, and banter, much preferable to the previous stickler for rules.

What was most remarkable was that the junior uncle didn’t dwell on the matter of amnesia and easily accepted his nephew’s sudden memory loss, even seeming pleased by the prospect.

Relieved, Ming Shuang emerged from the blankets. His junior uncle was not only formidable in a fight but also approachable—a jackpot of an ally. He resolved to cling to this golden thigh for dear life.

And with thought came action. Deciding never to let go, Ming Shuang reached out and clung to his junior uncle’s legs with both hands.

“I’ve lost my memory, so from now on, I’ll rely on you for everything,” he shamelessly declared, then watched closely for his uncle’s reaction.

The junior uncle raised a pale hand. Ming Shuang flinched, expecting a smack, but instead, his uncle simply ruffled his hair, regarding him with the same expression one might use for a loyal dog.

Outside, Ling Qiqi lay in the rocking chair, waiting in vain for the room’s occupants to emerge. Something didn’t feel right. Remembering Kongmingzi’s shameless words from before, she frowned, suspecting her senior brother’s virtue was in grave danger.

Acting on impulse, she leapt from the chair, flung aside the blanket, and began pounding on the door with all her might, shouting, “Open up! If you’ve got the nerve to steal my senior brother, you’d better open this door!”

Inside, Ming Shuang, successfully hugging his golden thigh, trembled at the female lead’s furious outburst.

“What are you afraid of? She can’t beat me,” his junior uncle said confidently, utterly unmoved by the defeated, less-attractive girl outside.

Though Yun Ting dismissed her, seeing Ming Shuang so unsettled, he decided to drive the noisy girl away. Kind persuasion was out of the question.

After considering that the door was made of wood and direct electricity might not do, Yun Ting instructed Ming Shuang to add a few layers of moisture to the door.

Feigning forgetfulness, Ming Shuang pitifully claimed he couldn’t remember any spells—he was just a mundane mortal now.

Yun Ting rolled his eyes and, exasperated, began to teach Ming Shuang the basics of channeling spiritual energy. The two of them earnestly practiced inside, ignoring the racket outside.

Thanks to the original Ling Xiaozi’s prodigious talent, this body was naturally attuned to cultivation. Even as a complete novice, Ming Shuang quickly picked up the basics of ice magic after a few simple exercises.

“Turns out it’s pretty easy...” Ming Shuang conjured a delicate ice flower, offering it to his junior uncle like a precious treasure.

Ice flowers and handsome men—a perfect match. Yun Ting plucked the ice blossom and placed it in a white porcelain vase. Looking at the eager dog eyes seeking praise, he remarked, “It’s barely passable.”

For someone from an era where nothing became sentient, this little ice flower was enough to make Ming Shuang feel sublimated. Today’s little flower would be tomorrow’s grand garden. He grinned foolishly, feeling like a little immortal, his heart brimming with joy.

Once Ming Shuang had grasped the basics, Yun Ting urged him to direct moisture onto the door. Reciting the incantation in his heart, Ming Shuang conjured several water streams like little serpents, sending them slithering onto the wooden door.

As the watery snakes seeped into the wood, Yun Ting’s eyes narrowed in delight. Ming Shuang glanced at his uncle and wanted to add a “100,000-volt warning” next to that sly smile.

The combination of lightning and water spells—a time-honored method for travel, murder, and robbery.

Outside, just as Ling Qiqi was performing her passionate one-woman show pounding on the door, her body pressed against the wood, she was caught off guard by a sudden shock, and was instantly fried like a salamander on a grill.