Chapter 43 Ji Wuyou’s encounter
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Ji Wuyou felt like he was surrounded by intense flames. His mind broke apart as a surge of adrenaline flowed through him.
The pain was unbearable. He let out a loud cry as he lowered himself to a crouching position.
His body felt as if his meridians were cut off, but somehow new strength began to emerge, transforming him from within.
The young man who emerged from the statue spoke, “I’ve been watching you ever since you entered here—foolish, weak, and incapable. You lack confidence and courage. What makes you think you deserve what you desire?”
“Brainless and mediocre. Except for a unique physique, everything else is ordinary.”
He spoke with a sense of finality, his words as cold as ice, leaving no room for argument.
“In this lifetime, achieving greatness is a challenging task.”
The young man casually spun the pen in his hand, a slight mocking smile on his pale, unhealthy face.
It wasn’t meant to inspire or teach him. It was just someone’s outside view of him.
“Ji Wuyou, what makes you deserve to live?”
Like a picky god.
The Zhuangyuan Temple was pitch black, with no one around. He crouched in front of the statue, suffering from a splitting headache. What made him deserve to live? It was the first time someone had asked him such a question. But it seemed like he had been pondering the answer for a long time.
What made him deserve to live? If luck hadn’t been on his side, he would have died many times already.
When his mother was alive, she said that on the night he was born, there were thunderstorms, darkness filled the sky, and the wild creatures in the mountains howled anxiously and fearfully all day long, nearly scaring away the midwife.
Luckily, he was born with a faint golden glow around him.
His mother said it was a sign of blessings. But the villagers cursed him, because that night, all the village’s livestock died suddenly. And indeed, he had the same effect—bringing misfortune to his parents and everything around him.
What he loved would always die, and what he possessed would immediately vanish.
It was as if he was cursed, held by an unseen reaper gripping his neck. But it never followed through.
As a child, he was pushed into the water by other kids from the village. A water spirit grabbed his leg and dragged him down. The water was freezing and murky, and the surroundings were chaotic. He saw the swollen and horrifying face of the water spirit. He thought he would meet his end, but he didn’t. When he woke up, he was lying on the shore, his clothes dry, as if it had all been a nightmare. On another night, a venomous snake slithered into his bed, its fangs pressing against his skin, but suddenly, the snake froze and remained motionless. The same inexplicable things happened while walking on the road—stones would randomly fall, and he would encounter peculiar-looking individuals.
This streak of misfortune vanished mysteriously when he turned five.
But even without the curse, his existence was bewildering and pitiful.
The child who nearly caused his death, with just one apology, was forgiven by him.
He knew neither love nor hate, neither honor nor disgrace.
And as he grew older, he began to grasp a bit of understanding. Entering Yunxiao, with the drizzle subsiding, he arrived at Yinghui Peak, and the first thing he saw amidst the crowd was a young man in flowing white robes standing on a raised platform. Seeking only one defeat, he radiated brightness and elegance like a beam of light. This was glory. The gazes of those around him held not maliciousness but rather envy and admiration.
Deep down, he had always envied Zhang Yiming. It seemed like Zhang Yiming effortlessly became the center of attention without having to do anything, so he wanted to imitate him.
They both joined Shangyang Peak. They wore the same clothes and adorned similar hair accessories, but his ingratiating nature was etched into his very bones, and he could never become Zhang Yiming. That Zhang Yiming who offended everyone with just one sentence, a person who came and went like the wind, exuding self-assured charm.
Zhang Yiming was a good person. He wanted to help him, bring him out, introduce him to his friends, but it was in vain.
He had always felt like an outsider, existing in their different, murky worlds. The forced care shown towards him only emphasized his pitiful state in a different manner.
They laughed and joked, and he couldn’t even find a place to interject a single word.
When he spent time alone with Fushang.
He had been secretly studying Zhang Yiming’s swordsmanship, and she caught him in the act.
The girl’s gaze fell upon his hand, and after a moment of surprise, she burst into laughter. “Oh, are you learning from Zhang Yiming?”
In truth, she was just teasing.
But his spirit was shaken, his face turned beet red, and he became utterly flustered, wishing he could disappear into the ground.
Like a jumping clown.
As he grew older, he would gradually understand many things he didn’t grasp before.
In the short span of burning incense at the Zhuangyuan Temple, he felt as though he had lived a lifetime. Someone seemed to have enlightened him, but he would rather not have been enlightened.
Without being enlightened, he wouldn’t know how ridiculous and helpless he had been before. He wouldn’t have this suppressed sense of shame lingering in his heart, more painful and tormenting than a knife.
Shu Yan said, “I truly want to kill you, but I can’t. She granted me immortality, and you are under her protection. Those dead people are pretending to be gods in my name. Tomorrow at this time, come here, and I will give you a chance to exact revenge on those who look down on you.”
Those who look down on me…
Shu Yan said, “Out of the four people accompanying you, three of them don’t regard you highly, and one of them wishes to kill you. I am loyal to her, so I will kill those she hates and save those she loves. Your character must be forged with blood.”
The young man lowered his gaze, appearing extremely dull.
“Tomorrow, you shall come.”
Tomorrow, he would come.
Ji Wuyou couldn’t sleep in the middle of the night. He got out of bed barefoot, moving quietly so as not to wake his companion. He silently sat by the bedside, gazing at the moon outside, his chubby face expressionless and lost.
The fervor in his heart faded away.
His stomach growled again in the middle of the night.
When he felt hungry, he thought of the decapitated female ghost who wanted to eat him. He also thought of the gentle elderly woman. He must have seen her when he was a child, but he couldn’t remember. In the darkness of the mountains and forests, she approached, bringing him boundless courage and tenderness.
She claimed to have watched him grow up and guided him along the path. Her gaze warm and melded with the mountains, the moon, the wind, and time itself.
For some reason, thinking of that elderly woman gradually brought him clarity.
He felt that Shu Yan’s words were very wrong.
He felt ashamed, recognizing his own wretchedness. But why should others respect someone as weak as him?
It was already good enough that they treated him with kindness.
Why would he repay kindness with enmity?
Beads of sweat still adorned his forehead as he exhaled into the night air.
“If you were here, you probably wouldn’t want to see me like this.”
However, deep inside, there was always a voice urging him on.
…Go.
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I really hope Ji Wuyou can be good this timeline.. good as in good to our Pei Jing silly young master