Emotion

Ye Jiuzhou's injuries were severe and required recuperation.

And Ye Xuan just so happened to be planning to travel the world.

"Brother, you can't possibly recover from these injuries on your own, right? You need someone to take care of you." When Ye Xuan said this, his tone was completely matter-of-fact.

"I don't need it."

"Let's go, let's go. I'm getting bored being all by myself anyway."

Ye Jiuzhou's refusal was completely ignored by Ye Xuan, who possessed a thick skin and a selective deafness.

Thus, the two began traveling together.

Their journey was nothing short of chaotic, yet it was also the most beautiful journey of Ye Jiuzhou's life.

He had seen countless breathtakingly talented prodigies and witnessed numerous magnificent spectacles.

But he had never seen anyone who could embody the word "weakling" so thoroughly, yet live with such unapologetic confidence and open-heartedness.

Ye Xuan's cultivation base was appallingly low, but his survival skills were astonishingly high.

He knew the toxicity of every wild herb, the depth of every river, and could predict the arrival of a storm just from the marching direction of ants.

He could always find food and water in the most barren places, and always discover a way out in the most dangerous environments.

"I was poor when I was a kid," Ye Xuan casually explained while squatting by a stream catching fish. "My mom raised me alone, and we never knew where our next meal was coming from. If I didn't learn all this, I would have starved to death long ago."

He said it so lightly, as if going hungry was just a trivial matter.

But Ye Jiuzhou saw the dense network of old scars on his palms: the marks left behind by years of dealing with thorns and rocks.

They encountered demonic beasts.

A Golden Core stage Flaming Lion.

This beast was as massive as an elephant, with a crimson mane like burning flames, and the pillars of fire it spewed from its mouth could scorch the ground into glass for dozens of feet around. It occupied the mountain pass they had to cross, its bell-sized eyes shooting out cruel, bloodthirsty glares.

Ye Jiuzhou was still heavily injured. The spiritual energy in his dantian had recovered to less than ten percent, and he couldn't even condense a decent strand of sword qi.

His Soul Formation stage coercion was virtually useless at this moment. His realm was indeed there, but without spiritual energy to support it, everything was just a castle in the air.

"Ye Xuan! That's a Golden Core demonic beast! Run!!" Ye Jiuzhou shouted.

His voice was hoarse and urgent, carrying an unprecedented tension.

It wasn't for himself. In all his twenty years of life, Ye Jiuzhou had never feared death. He was tense for the idiot beside him whose Foundation Establishment base wasn't even stable.

A Golden Core stage demonic beast!

To an early Foundation Establishment cultivator, that wasn't a battle; it was a slaughter!

However, Ye Xuan, who was only at the early Foundation Establishment stage, held a chipped iron sword and turned back to glance at him.

In just that one glance.

Ye Jiuzhou saw something in those peach-blossom eyes that was never there usually: a nearly insane, unreasonable stubbornness to do something even knowing it was impossible.

At this moment, Ye Jiuzhou's pupils suddenly shrank.

Because he was far too familiar with that look.

It was exactly the same as the look in his own eyes when he was ten years old, right before swallowing the Yin-Yang Creation Pill.

Ye Xuan turned back around to face the fierce flaming beast that was dozens of times his size, raising high that iron sword so broken that even a blacksmith wouldn't take it for scrap.

Then, he charged forward with a wild yell.

"Vile beast! Don't you dare hurt my brother!"

This roar echoed through the valley, his voice cracking. It was neither mighty nor domineering, and even carried a hint of breathless false bravado.

But to Ye Jiuzhou's ears, it felt like the most earth-shattering sound he had ever heard in his life.

The result was devoid of suspense.

Ye Xuan was swatted flying by the Flaming Lion's paw.

Just like swatting a fly.

The force of this strike threw his entire body dozens of feet away. He tumbled in the air several times before crashing fiercely into a century-old ancient tree, leaving a human-shaped dent in the trunk.

Ye Xuan hung from the tree like a broken ragdoll, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, his face deathly pale.

But he didn't die.

Nor did he flee.

He slid down from the tree, spat out the broken teeth in his mouth, wiped the blood from his face, and staggered to his feet.

Then, utilizing his familiarity with the terrain and his almost instinctive, beast-like survival wisdom, he began a meticulously designed hunt.

For a whole day and night.

He fled, hid, counterattacked, and fled again in this mountain forest, like a fox chased by hounds.

The wounds on his body grew more numerous, broken ribs pierced his lungs, and every breath brought up bloody froth. His green cloth robe was torn to shreds, revealing the heavily scarred flesh beneath.

Ye Jiuzhou sat in place, watching all of this.

He couldn't move.

The spiritual energy in his body was only enough to maintain a waking consciousness; he didn't even have the strength to stand up.

He could only watch.

Watching Ye Xuan get swatted away time and time again, and climb back up time and time again. Watching him vomit mouthfuls of blood during his brief moments of panting in the shadows, only to wipe it away.

He gripped that deformed iron sword tightly, watching him stumble and run through the tree shadows under the moonlight, while behind him the Flaming Lion's scorching pillars of fire set tree after tree ablaze.

Ye Jiuzhou's fingers dug deeply into the flesh of his palms.

He hated it.

He hated his own powerlessness.

He hated that he, a grand Almighty of the Soul Formation stage, didn't even have the strength to protect a minor Foundation Establishment cultivator at this moment.

Until the break of dawn.

The Flaming Lion was finally exhausted.

Under the dual effects of Ye Xuan's poisonous smoke and continuous attrition, the fierce beast collapsed into the final pit trap Ye Xuan had set.

Ye Xuan had waited a full day and night just for this opportunity.

When the blood-soaked Ye Xuan limped back, dragging the lion's corpse.

The scene was utterly absurd.

An early Foundation Establishment youth, as skinny as a bamboo pole, without a single patch of intact skin on his entire body. His left arm was dislocated, and the boot on his right foot was lost to who knows where, leaving him to step barefoot on the gravel.

His face was caked with blood and dirt, revealing only his two eyes and a row of white teeth.

He was dragging the corpse of a Flaming Lion dozens of times his size, its tail tied around his waist with vines, having to stop and take three breaths for every step he took.

Ye Jiuzhou was shocked.

He wasn't shocked by his courage, though it was indeed shocking.

Rather, he was struck by something much deeper and softer.

"Are you... crazy?"

"A Foundation Establishment killing a Golden Core? Do you have a death wish?"

Ye Jiuzhou's voice was trembling.

He didn't even know why he was trembling.

He, Ye Jiuzhou, never trembled. Not when facing an army of thousands, not when facing a life-and-death crisis, and not even when facing the pain of ten thousand swords piercing his heart every full moon night.

But at this moment, his voice just couldn't stop trembling.

Ye Xuan grinned, his teeth covered in blood. His smile looked fierce yet radiant, like a wild flower blooming over ruins.

"I had no choice. You need to heal, so you have to eat some meat to recover. This lion meat is very nourishing."

He said it with absolute matter-of-factness.

As if risking his life to fight a Golden Core demonic beast was merely to add a dish to his brother's meal.

As if the most worthless thing in this world was his own life, and the most important thing was letting his injured friend have a good bite to eat.

At this moment.

Ye Jiuzhou looked at this miserable, weak youth, feeling a sudden sting in his eyes.

An incredibly unfamiliar emotion surged up, tumbling from the depths of his chest and lodging in his throat. The bitter tightness made it almost impossible for him to breathe.

He tried desperately to hold it back, turning his head away so Ye Xuan wouldn't see his expression.

Since he was a child, everyone had been using him.

His father saw him as a tool to revitalize the family. His clansmen saw him as living proof of the unfairness of the Heavenly Dao.

His fiancée saw him as her ticket to world-renowned glory. The opponents he defeated saw him as an insurmountable wall.

Everyone demanded that he become stronger.

Stronger, stronger, and even stronger.

Because only by becoming stronger did he hold any value.

Only by becoming stronger would anyone care about his existence.

Never before had anyone risked their life just so he could have a bite of meat.

Ye Jiuzhou raised his hand, covering his face with his sleeve.

...Idiot.

He cursed softly, his voice muffled as if it were coming from underwater.

Ye Xuan didn't know he was crying.

He wouldn't let anyone know he was crying.

Because Ye Jiuzhou could not cry.

The Young Palace Master could not cry.

The natural-born Sword God could not cry.

A man could not cry.