Legend of The Young Master

Chapter 52: Still Naive

Wuyi sighed. He would have already lost an eye if he hadn't protected himself with the qi of the Valor statue.

"I didn't plan to. At first, he was aiding me in opening the Baihui point; then, unexpectedly, he tested me. The Qi went haywire. I don't know what happened, but it seems my bloodline helped me, which infuriated him. But I believe it's for the best. If I need to cultivate, I can do it on my own; I don't need to die for it.

I won't attend his classes anymore. Let's just forget about it. Nothing will go wrong if I stay away," Wuyi rambled on.

"Quiet," Boluo commanded, cutting off Wuyi's ramblings. "Your word is enough for me. But right now, you're not making any sense. Go back to sleep. I'll be back soon. Rest is the real healer."

As Wuyi closed his eyes, he felt Boluo's presence calming for some reason, easing his chaotic thoughts. Soon, a herbal concoction pulled Wuyi into a deep, dreamless sleep. As soon as he fell asleep, Boluo dressed himself and left.

Wuyi awoke to a gust of cold air as Boluo re-entered the room in the morning. Boluo examined him, his hands skillfully assessing Wuyi's injuries. Satisfied, Boluo changed into a fresh robe, humming a tune that sharply contrasted with his earlier mood. The statue of harmony signaled that Boluo had released all anger and was actually in a pleasant mood.

When Boluo left, Wuyi heard him whistling and giving orders to the stable boys. It all sounded so normal, so mundane, and Wuyi yearned for that normal, stable life for a moment. He missed the warm scent of horses, hounds, and straw; the satisfaction of simple tasks completed well; and the restorative sleep that follows physical exhaustion.

His mind wandered, a sense of irritation enveloped him when he thought about Gao. Gao despised these types of people and their lives.

Gao's contempt-filled voice echoed in his mind for those who worked simple jobs. "Ruffians and dolts," Gao had scorned them, "doomed to never cultivate for what they can't master with their spirit." Wuyi had to accept Gao had a personality that he really disliked. Gao was wise enough to fuel that dislike continuously.

Wuyi was confined to bed for two days under the watchful eye of a surprisingly jovial Boluo. Boluo's newfound optimism puzzled Wuyi. After two days, Boluo declared that enough was enough; it was time for Wuyi to get moving. Boluo assigned him a series of light chores—nothing too strenuous, but enough to keep him busy.

Wuyi suspected that the real purpose was to distract him from having any negative thoughts. But as he recovered, Wuyi felt he had achieved a new dark enlightenment.

Recently with cultivation in Chao and Boluo's care he was becoming careless again in this life, relying on them ; He needed to be heartless and think only about himself.They were not strong enough to protect him.

The next day, Wuyi took a slow walk to Lujingbao Castle Town. The journey took longer than ever, each step a reminder of his injuries. By mid-afternoon, he was back at the stables. He finished a few chores and retreated to Boluo's room, where he fell asleep almost immediately.

Wuyi awoke to find Boluo standing over him, his expression etched with concern. "Up, let's see how you're healing," Boluo ordered. Wuyi stood, allowing Boluo's experienced hands to examine his injuries. Boluo seemed pleased with the progress, advising Wuyi to keep his ribs wrapped but suggesting that his hand could now be left unbandaged.

"If anything starts to fester, come see me," Boluo added, handing Wuyi a small pot of muscle-easing balm.

Wuyi held the jar of balm, lost in thought. He had to accept that Gao had shown him a harsher reality than anyone else ever had, and he wondered if, despite his experiences, he was still naive even after two lifetimes. He knew that most of the people in the fort were like Gao—not everyone would care or be kind like Boluo or Chao. He was perhaps trusting Boluo too much.

But there was one thing he knew: Even if he could trust no one he could trust his own abilities—his 'cheat'—to survive in this world. He had survived Gao; he would survive others too.

Boluo must have noticed his distant gaze. "Stop that," he snapped, turning away.

"What?" Wuyi asked, genuinely puzzled.

"You look at me with such emotionless eyes," Boluo said, his voice softening. "What did you plan to do? Hide in the stables for the rest of your life? No, you have to go back. You have to go back and hold your head high, eat your meals among the fort folk, sleep in your own room, and live your life. Yes, and finish those damned lessons in Cultivation."

Wuyi was taken aback. All he could think was, "What the fu*k?"

"Impossible," he muttered, incredulous at Boluo's naivety. "Gao won't let me rejoin the group. And even if he did, I'm too far behind. I've severed all ties with him, Boluo. I've learned what I needed to, and now I need to find a new path. Maybe I could learn to tame desert beasts or spirit beasts someday." The words surprised him; the idea had never occurred to him before.

"You can't," Boluo retorted, "desert beasts won't take to you. You're too warm and nosy. Listen, you haven't burned any bridges. Gao tried to push you away. If you don't go back, you let him win. You have a right to his teachings.

Claim it. Don't run away. No one gains anything by running."

"But I've missed so many lessons," Wuyi protested.

"You haven't missed anything," Boluo insisted, turning back. "There have been no lessons since you left. You can pick up right where you left off."

"I don't want to go back."

"Don't argue with me," Boluo snapped. "I've told you what to do. Now do it."

Dismissed, Wuyi took his jar of herbal salve and trudged back to the fort.