Chapter 12: Attack on the Tower Ship  

Chong Jue glanced at him indifferently.  

Previously, he had refused three times to listen to the scriptures, but now he was rushing to beg for them?  

The smoke from the small incense burner suddenly stilled. The two were separated by a screen as thin as gauze, and a wisp of incense lingered between Chong Jue’s brows, like an ethereal ink painting.  

Chong Jue paid no mind to Su Han Sheng’s sudden change of heart and said calmly, “Hmm.”  

Su Han Sheng walked around the screen and sat cross-legged across from Chong Jue, separated only by a small table.  

Chong Jue glanced at him.  

Su Han Sheng instinctively retracted his legs and knelt properly, knees together, inwardly grumbling.  

Just like in his past life, always finding fault—kneeling on the bed, kneeling off the bed, even having to kneel properly just to drink tea.  

Back then, Su Han Sheng hadn’t understood why the great demon had so many annoying habits, but now he knew.  

The transition from sitting to kneeling was so fluid, as if he had done it countless times, that Chong Jue’s fingers, which had been moving the prayer beads, paused before he could even correct him.  

Unaware of anything amiss, Su Han Sheng obediently said, “Uncle, I’m ready.”  

Chong Jue resumed moving the prayer beads, and the stagnant smoke began to drift once more. He placed a handwritten scripture scroll on the small table.  

“…Thus should one subdue their heart.”  

The World Honored One of Mount Sumeru held a revered status. Even the headmaster of Enlightenment Academy had never had the privilege of hearing him recite half a verse, let alone an entire scripture.  

Yet the moment Chong Jue began reciting the first line of the scripture, Su Han Sheng’s thoughts immediately wandered. His gaze drifted to Chong Jue’s pale lips as he spoke, then flickered briefly to the bite mark on his neck before quickly looking away, not daring to linger.  

Su Han Sheng pretended to listen attentively, but his mind was racing.  

One moment he thought, *”How does a vegetarian monk grow so tall? He must be sneaking meat behind everyone’s back.”*  

A monk who breaks the precepts—tsk.  

The next moment, *”Why hasn’t that bite mark faded yet? Serves him right—those who bite others shall be bitten in turn.”*  

After a while of idle thoughts, Su Han Sheng’s gaze fell on Chong Jue’s hands.  

Chong Jue seemed carved entirely from jade. His slender, pale fingers lightly moved the Bodhi prayer beads, the patterns on the beads brushing against his fingertips, exuding an air of cold elegance tinged with something almost sensual.  

They looked as smooth as warm jade, yet when they gripped an ankle or traced a waist, they left marks that took forever to fade.  

So annoying.  

Chong Jue finished a section of the scripture and glanced up at Su Han Sheng.  

The young man looked obedient, his amber eyes fixed on the scripture as if deeply engrossed, appearing to have gained much from the teaching.  

It seemed this child merely lacked proper guidance. With a little instruction, he could surely become a kind-hearted, gentle, and virtuous gentleman.  

Chong Jue recited another section.  

Su Han Sheng stared at Chong Jue’s hands and thought, *”Tsk, why is he still going? In my past life, these hands only killed—now they’re flipping scriptures? Once we catch that troublemaking demonic cultivator, how should we kill him?”*  

The scripture was inherently abstruse, and Chong Jue’s voice, clear and flowing like a mountain spring, was enough to lull anyone to sleep.  

Due to the Phoenix Bone’s aversion to light, Su Han Sheng’s sleep schedule was reversed. Before even two hours had passed, he was struggling to keep his drooping eyelids open. But fearing Chong Jue would send him back to endure the cold, he forced himself to stay awake.  

Chong Jue’s lips moved softly as he turned a full circle of prayer beads.  

Suddenly—*thud.*  

Su Han Sheng could hold on no longer. He face-planted onto the small table, leaving only the back of his head visible as he began snoring soundly.  

Chong Jue: “……”  

***

In the dead of night, the massive tower ship cut through the wind with rows of oars on either side, piercing through the clouds alongside the bright moon.  

The new disciples of Enlightenment Academy were fast asleep, leaving only the accompanying envoy Zhuang Lingxiu sitting cross-legged by the ship’s helm. His eyes were closed as he extended his spiritual senses, a long sword resting horizontally on his lap, its blade gleaming faintly with a snowy light.  

The character “Wen” on his forehead ribbon had reverted to its original flamboyant script, while a few loose strands of hair fluttered wildly in the wind.  

Suddenly—*clang!*  

The sword on his lap unsheathed three inches in an instant, its snowy glow transforming into a crimson light as it hummed incessantly.  

Zhuang Lingxiu’s narrow eyes snapped open as he abruptly stood.  

The Three Realms’ Spirit Boats, Spirit Mustards, and Spirit Rafts were all monopolized by Separate Year by Year, and the skyways were constantly traversed by vessels heading in all directions, day and night.  

If the academy’s tower ship wished to pass through, it had to first report to Separate Year by Year and confirm the exact time of travel. A delay of even a moment could risk a collision with other Spirit Boats.  

Before coming to Echoing Warmth Sect, Zhuang Lingxiu had already verified that tonight, their tower ship would be the only one on the route to Enlightenment Academy.  

Yet now…  

Within a thirty-mile radius, numerous Spirit Boats surrounded the tower ship in a vast circle, tearing through the clouds with unstoppable momentum.  

They were clearly hostile.  

Zhuang Lingxiu’s gaze darkened as he swept his sword horizontally, forcefully shattering the windows of the third-floor pavilion in a single strike.  

The “Wen” on his forehead ribbon reappeared, shouting, “Not Wen!”  

Zhuang Lingxiu ignored it and murmured, “Inform the academy’s deputy headmaster—the tower ship is under attack.”  

As soon as he spoke, the jade token at his waist suddenly flashed red, and a surge of spiritual energy transformed into a magpie, streaking downward like a falling meteor toward the Beacon Tower thousands of feet below.  

Ordinary academy disciples often used jade tokens for communication. By sending a spirit-infused magpie to any Beacon Tower across the Three Realms, messages could be received in an instant.  

But just as Zhuang Lingxiu’s red-headed magpie pierced through a thick layer of clouds, about to land on the Beacon Tower below—  

A cold gleam struck violently.  

The magpie let out a shrill cry before exploding into nothingness.  

Zhuang Lingxiu sensed the interception of his messenger magpie, his expression darkening instantly.  

From the third floor, several accompanying envoys descended in a flurry, hastily donning their robes while cursing under their breath, arriving beside Zhuang Lingxiu in moments.  

“What’s happening?”  

“Damn it, I was just dreaming of graduating with top honors—the deputy headmaster even praised me as a prodigy in front of everyone! Do you know how rare it is for him to compliment anyone?!”  

“Another attack? A few days ago, it was birds crashing into the ship. What is it this time?”  

Zhuang Lingxiu’s expression was grave. “This doesn’t seem right.”  

Birds couldn’t break through the ship’s Barrier, but this time, the attackers were unknown Cultivators.  

Dozens of Spirit Boats approached from the sky. Though the tower ship was luxurious, it was also cumbersome and slow, unable to match their speed—even if it was engraved with countless defensive arrays…  

Just as this thought crossed his mind, the bottom of the tower ship exploded violently, causing the massive vessel to tilt sharply!  

Zhuang Lingxiu stiffened in shock.  

His Nascent Soul-level spiritual senses hadn’t detected anyone approaching?!  

In the Spirit Mustard atop the ship, Su Han Sheng, who had been deep in slumber, was jolted awake as the ship lurched, tumbling clumsily to the floor—fortunately landing on a cushion, sparing him any injury.  

The ship continued to tilt precariously. Su Han Sheng rubbed his bleary eyes as he pushed himself up, only to feel something heavy on his shoulders. Turning his head, he saw an outer robe embroidered with lotus patterns draped over him.  

The cool fragrance of bodhi flowers enveloped him, wrapping around him like an embrace.  

Su Han Sheng looked around in confusion.  

Chong Jue stood by the latticed window of the Spirit Mustard, the carved wooden panels wide open. Holding his prayer beads, he gazed downward with slightly lowered eyes.

The tower ship had just passed through a thick layer of clouds when the silvery moonlight cascaded down, draping Chong Jue in an ethereal mist.  

The ascension of an Immortal could be no more breathtaking than this.  

Su Han Sheng knew enemy forces had arrived the moment he heard the sounds of battle outside.  

But with Chong Jue here, he wasn’t worried. He staggered slightly as he prepared to walk over.  

Just then, the tower ship lurched violently as if it had crashed into a mountain. The entire Spirit Mustard tilted forward at an impossible angle, sending the room’s antique shelves, screens, small tables, and meditation cushions sliding in the same direction.  

Su Han Sheng let out a startled cry as his bare feet pattered rapidly across the floor. Unable to resist the pull of gravity, he stumbled forward uncontrollably for more than a dozen steps—  

**Thud!**  

—before smacking headfirst into the wooden wall beside the window lattice.  

Chong Jue: “……”  

Su Han Sheng’s forehead and nose were red from the impact, and he sucked in sharp breaths to ease the pain. Glancing at Chong Jue, who stood as immovable as a mountain, he shot a resentful glare at the man’s… calf.  

Couldn’t he have helped steady him?!  

The entire tower ship shook violently, swaying back and forth, yet Chong Jue remained as steady as a boulder, utterly unaffected.  

Grumbling, Su Han Sheng clung to the window lattice to steady himself and peered down below.  

Sure enough, it was an enemy attack.  

A few days ago, birds had crashed into the ship, only to be blocked by the Barrier. Now, whoever was behind this had resorted to desperate measures—sending over a dozen high-speed Spirit Boats hurtling from all directions to ram the tower ship. Some even carried Cultivators who detonated their Golden Cores upon impact.  

One of the tower ship’s multiple Barrier layers had already cracked, and several black-clad figures rode the wind toward them.  

…Every single one of them was at the Nascent Soul stage.  

The artificial mountain and waterfall in the first layer of the Spirit Mustard had been knocked askew. The deck was littered with shattered Spirit Boats, their wreckage igniting sporadic fires across the wooden tower ship.  

The accompanying envoys were locked in fierce combat with the invaders.  

The newly enrolled students huddled together in terror, protected by the last remaining defensive Barrier.  

Su Han Sheng frowned as he watched.  

Six… seven… eight…  

A full ten Nascent Soul-stage attackers?  

In his past life, Zhuang Lingxiu—who had also been at the Nascent Soul stage—had actually managed to save so many students from these madmen?  

An incense burner rolled to his feet, still burning, its delicate smoke wafting like mist after rain. Chong Jue’s expression was cold and unreadable, his fingers moving the prayer beads faster than usual.  

Below, chaos reigned—yet he merely watched in silence.  

Rubbing his forehead, Su Han Sheng blinked his damp lashes. Seeing that Chong Jue showed no intention of intervening, he raised a brow.  

No plans to save the world?  

A young man’s voice always carried a trace of lingering childishness, clear and pleasant—but Su Han Sheng deliberately lowered his tone, attempting (and failing) to mimic a composed, aloof demeanor as he spoke.  

*”All Daos are impermanent… the Illusory Dharmakaya is but an illusion.”*  

*”…Just a few demonic Cultivators. Surely Uncle can send them to the afterlife with a single palm?”*  

Chong Jue: “……”