Chapter Seventy-Four: Manual Censorship

“My dear child, I was wrong, truly. I never imagined you could surpass your teacher and outshine your master. You’ve graduated, so from now on, don’t call me brother—I’m not worthy of it.” Yu Daoyi patted his shoulder, giving him a look full of nostalgia.

“All right, Daoyi little brother,” the guileless Song Cheng nodded and replied.

Smack—a sharp rap landed on Song Cheng’s head, Yu Daoyi showing no mercy.

“Why did you hit me?” Song Cheng, ever honest, looked a little aggrieved.

“My hand seemed to be possessed by a demon,” Yu Daoyi replied with a blank expression.

“Since you’re my little brother Daoyi, I’ll forgive—” Song Cheng sighed, but before he could finish—

Smack—Yu Daoyi’s hand again found the back of Song Cheng’s head, just as merciless as before.

“Why did you hit me again?” Song Cheng, still honest, now looked a bit angry.

“My hand seemed to be possessed by a demon,” Yu Daoyi said again, his face expressionless after the blow.

“Daoyi litt—”

Smack.

“It was the demon’s doing.”

“You—”

Smack, smack, smack.

“Still the demon’s doing.”

After a while.

“Brother!” Song Cheng, unable to endure the injustice, shouted loudly, though his little head was now spinning.

“Yes!” Yu Daoyi accepted the title without the slightest guilt.

Song Cheng fell silent, speechless.

Those around, especially the Duan siblings, watched the whole scene unfold and could only sigh at the saying: in a big forest, you’ll find all kinds of birds.

“Song Cheng, no matter what happens, remember to live well,” Song Qiuling said, not bothering to scold Yu Daoyi, but instead patted her own brother’s shoulder and spoke with deep feeling.

“Hmm? What are you talking about?” Song Cheng, still dizzy, clearly didn’t get it.

“Uncle Song never really taught you much, did he?” Yu Daoyi asked.

“No, because even if I wandered in front of him, he could never see me,” Song Cheng replied pitifully.

What a poor child, Yu Daoyi thought with understanding. Don’t worry, soon you’ll feel the deep love from your father—he knew that feeling all too well.

“Qiuling, my darling daughter, there you are!”

As he spoke, a man with thick eyebrows and large eyes came striding over, leaving a first impression of being supremely, unremarkably ugly—plainly, utterly unattractive.

Standing beside his delicate, lovely daughter Song Qiuling, it was impossible to imagine they were father and daughter. One couldn’t help but marvel at the wonders of nature—or rather, the greatness of Madam Song!

Ignoring everyone but Song Qiuling, including his own son, Song Tianhan strode over to his daughter and began fussing over her with all sorts of questions and concern.

“Father truly lives up to the name! The depth of his fatherly love is awe-inspiring!” Song Cheng, seeing this, commented as he hurried over to join them.

“Father! Look at me, too! Look! I’ve broken through to the Fifth Realm! I’m doing great!” Longing for some ‘attention’, Song Cheng rushed to his father’s side, desperately trying to assert his presence.

The two stared at each other for a long time, long enough for Song Cheng to start feeling awkward.

Song Tianhan glanced toward Yu Daoyi in the distance, giving him a meaningful look.

At once, Yu Daoyi straightened his back and gave a subtle nod—he knew that look all too well, having seen it countless times between his old man and his younger brother. He could guess, even with his toes, what was about to happen next.

After coughing twice, Yu Daoyi waved his hand and, without a word, signaled for the group to follow him away from the scene.

Suddenly feeling something was missing, he grabbed a handful of foxtail grass from the side, reluctantly plucked one, and handed it to Song Cheng.

“Chew on this, the grassy taste isn’t bad.”

He gave Song Cheng a deep, lingering look, as if bidding farewell, leaving Song Cheng utterly confused.

“Father, where is Daoyi taking everyone? Why is sister going too?”

“Don’t worry, this is just a matter for us father and son—outsiders can’t get involved.”

“Really? What do you want to say to your son?”

“It’s not a matter of saying—there’s something I need to do.”

“Do? Do what?”

“Something that will bring me joy.”

“Huh? Ah—ah!”

Heart-stopping. Soul-wrenching.

What followed was several hundred words omitted…

“They’re not going to be hurt, are they?” Duan Yin asked with some concern.

“Relax. Beating is affection, scolding is love. Uncle Song is just expressing his fatherly love in another way,” Yu Daoyi replied, chewing on a stalk of foxtail grass.

“Oh,” Duan Yin responded obediently.

Soon after, heartrending cries for help echoed in the distance.

“Are you sure it’s really nothing?” Duan Yin asked again, worry in her voice.

“It’s fine! Look, I’ve been… ahem! Never mind that, it’s got nothing to do with me. Anyway, it’s fine,” Yu Daoyi caught himself before he let slip how often he’d been beaten half to death by his own father.

“Oh,” Duan Yin said again, half convinced.

After a while.

“Uncle Song? Are you finished?” Yu Daoyi, thinking enough time had passed, called out.

Soon Song Tianhan came over, dusting off his hands, calm and collected.

“Ahem, um—what was his name again?” Song Tianhan, brushing off his hands, seemed to want to say something, only to forget.

“…Song Cheng,” Yu Daoyi replied, speechless.

“Oh, right, Song Cheng. That boy’s probably just tired after my… guidance. Best let him be alone awhile,” Song Tianhan said, coughing lightly, hands clasped behind his back.

“Got it!” Yu Daoyi agreed readily, then asked, “But Uncle Song, how did you end up here? What’s going on?”

“What happened on the back mountain is all over town—people from the neighboring towns have come, even folks from the Song Mountain and Heng Mountain territories are here to join the fun. In a few days, more people from other realms will probably show up,” Song Tianhan replied, looking up at the dim sky.

“What about my father and the others?” Yu Daoyi asked the question that weighed most on his mind.

“The Yu family seems quiet—nothing much happening there,” Song Tianhan said.

“What?” Yu Daoyi’s voice shot up, shrill. “They just left their adorable, kind, universally loved son to his fate? How can their consciences bear it?”

“Before coming, I did go to pay your father a visit—after all, it was you who led my precious daughter up the mountain,” Song Tianhan replied, ignoring Yu Daoyi’s latter complaints.

“Cough, cough—Uncle Song, can we talk about the real issue here?” Yu Daoyi, a little embarrassed, admitted that Song Qiuling had only gotten into this mess by following him.

“Your father doesn’t seem worried about you at all,” Song Tianhan said.

“Impossible! No way! He’d never leave me and my brother behind!” Yu Daoyi insisted, every word resolute.

“Ahem, listen carefully—I said you. He did ask me to pass a message to your brother,” Song Tianhan said, hesitating over whether to continue.

“Huh? What message?” Yu Daoyi asked, a sense of foreboding rising.

“He said to tell him to be careful, and when necessary, to make his own decisions. He shouldn’t always follow you, or his path will only grow narrower,” Song Tianhan said seriously, a hint of agreement in his tone.

“What about me?!” Yu Daoyi yelled, aggrieved.

“He didn’t mention you,” Song Tianhan replied, raising his head.

“Damn! That—! If I ever—!” Yu Daoyi raged, his words a stream of half-muttered, half-censored curses.

Manual censorship for the sake of civility.

Song Tianhan, watching the panting, furious young man before him, began to understand how the Yu family might feel.

“Ahem, Uncle Song, just pretend you didn’t hear any of that. By the way, can we still get out of here?” Yu Daoyi, regaining composure, asked with a touch of awkwardness.

“I acted hastily before coming here—I didn’t expect the pillar of black light would only let people in, not out. Everyone who’s tried to leave has died. Now, even I wouldn’t dare try it,” Song Tianhan admitted, a trace of lingering fear on his face.

“So, we really are trapped here?” Yu Daoyi asked despondently.

“I’m afraid so. Unless a great master comes to break the formation, but that’s almost impossible,” Song Tianhan nodded.

“Why do you say that?” Yu Daoyi asked.

“Do you know whose legacy this secret realm belongs to?”

“I’ve heard a little—it’s supposedly the abandoned disciple of the Southern Profound Sect from ten thousand years ago, Bai Li Mo.”

“Then do you know what level of cultivation Bai Li Mo had in his lifetime?”

“No idea.”

“Let me put it this way—at least Nascent Soul peak! Could a place as small as ours have a master of that level around?”