Papaya (2)
Beyond Yun Guyan’s expectations, before he could wait for Wen Huan to bring Duanmu Lin to Yangxin Hall, Guan Muyan came running to find him first.
“Sect Leader, I must tell you something.” When walking into Yangxin Hall, Guan Muyan’s expression was rarely solemn, yet carried a hint of mystery within that solemnity. “That little brat from the Duanmu family is still practicing Wanci Manor’s martial arts.”
At this time, Yun Guyan was sitting cross-legged on the bed carefully wiping the qin that Lady Lan had used before her death. Hearing this, he looked up in surprise. “Oh? He still has the mind to practice martial arts?”
A year ago, Guan Muyan had just cultivated a batch of medicine people. Yun Guyan had personally watched the entire process. He knew how unbearable it was to drink the medicine for cultivating medicine people. Back then, more than half of the first batch of children he had gathered to become medicine people had died from drinking the medicine.
Guan Muyan said, “Sect Leader, have you ever heard that Wanci Manor has had a rule since ancient times—as long as they are children of the Duanmu clan, if anyone can comprehend their family’s Wanci Pharmacopoeia before the age of thirty-five, and simultaneously practice their ancestral secret skill called the Twelve-Hand Acupoint Technique to the highest level, regardless of birth status, they can directly inherit the position of Manor Lord of Wanci Manor.”
Yun Guyan seemed to understand, smiling ambiguously. “As far as this lord knows, these three great families—the Duanmu family, the Yu family, and the Lin family—all seem to have an unwritten rule: those who serve as family heads also serve as the leaders of the forces controlled by these families. For instance, this Duanmu Nanting is both the head of the Duanmu family and the Manor Lord of Wanci Manor.”
Guan Muyan said, “Exactly so, Sect Leader.”
The smile in Yun Guyan’s eyes deepened another layer. “I see. So you’re saying that as long as this Young Master Lin satisfies these two conditions before being completely killed by you and me, then finds some way to leak information out, he would be the next Duanmu family head and Wanci Manor Lord?”
Guan Muyan spread his hands casually. “Wanci Manor places the greatest importance on ancestral teachings. They would certainly spare no effort to rescue him and bring him back to inherit the Manor Lord position.”
“This child’s mind is quite sharp. He knows that once he enters Xifeng City of Mount Shenlie, with his personal strength alone, escape would be absolutely hopeless. Only by borrowing Wanci Manor’s power can he save himself.”
“Where is there such an easy thing?” Yun Guyan scoffed, his gaze returning to his deceased wife’s relic in his arms, plucking the strings twice dismissively. “If he wants to practice, let him practice. This is actually good—giving him something to look forward to will make him behave.”
To be fair, at this time Yun Guyan had not yet reached the level where, after ascending from “Sect Leader” to “Old Sect Leader,” he would be rumored by the jianghu to be an old monster and great demon. But his natural talent was astonishing, and his mastery of martial arts was already extremely profound. Yun Guyan was very clear in his heart that in his eyes, Duanmu Lin’s struggles were no different from a mayfly trying to shake a tree.
For a young boy only seven years old, without any teacher’s guidance or books and manuals to guide him, to grope his way through an extremely exquisite martial art during the intervals of enduring medicine torture, relying only on fragmentary memories, and to grope his way to the highest level—this was impossible.
And the facts were just as he predicted.
Duanmu Lin’s muscles and bones had also been cultivated since childhood through the Duanmu clan’s secret medicinal baths. Although he appeared thin and frail due to years of coldness and difficulties at the manor, his physical foundation was actually much stronger than ordinary children.
But no matter how strong, he was still a seven-year-old child. Just enduring the domineering medicinal properties of those blood-nourishing medicines left him exhausted day and night. To try to practice martial arts on top of that was truly too difficult.
However, Duanmu Lin did not give up.
Without dedicated time to practice martial arts, he would grit his teeth and practice while enduring the medicinal effects—running the mental cultivation method could even reduce the pain somewhat. When practicing the acupoint technique without anyone to teach him hand-by-hand, he would use his own body to explore and experiment. He was certain that Yun Guyan wouldn’t let him die easily, so he specifically chose dangerous acupoints when Elder Guan Muyan, the divine physician, was nearby to test them, angering this elder to the point of jumping in frustration several times.
It wasn’t until this winter was nearly over that Duanmu Lin gradually adapted to drinking the medicine and didn’t feel so uncomfortable.
As soon as this child had some energy, he immediately became even more troublesome. Today he complained that the blood-nourishing medicine was too bitter, tomorrow he complained that the Zhuyin Sect’s food was too poor—in short, he caused trouble to his heart’s content.
Regarding this, Yun Guyan was unconcerned.
“This little brat is testing this lord’s bottom line.”
Another ten-plus days passed, and Duanmu Lin completely adapted to the medicinal properties.
Wen Huan finally came to lead him to Yangxin Hall to meet Yun Guyan.
This near-attendant of the Sect Leader in white robes truly lived up to his name—gentle and mild, unlike someone mixed up with a sinister jianghu sect, but rather like a scholar.
Only a few people in the sect knew that this Wen Daren not only served tea and water to the Sect Leader, but also possessed martial arts skills capable of blocking enemies for the Sect Leader, though he rarely displayed them.
That day, Duanmu Lin wore a dark blue jacket, hugging an octagonal red copper hand warmer to his chest, and was led by the hand by Wen Huan as they walked out from the depths of the Medicine Gate, following the small path between the medicine fields outward.
The young boy looked back at the place where he had lived for nearly two months, asking Wen Huan neither warmly nor coldly, “Will I not be living here anymore?”
The child hadn’t yet adapted to the severe cold of Mount Shenlie, and was quite weak from drinking medicine during this period. While channeling internal energy to protect him from the cold, Wen Huan answered, “That depends on the Sect Leader’s intentions.”
Duanmu Lin thought for a moment, then asked, “Are you going to start using my blood?”
Wen Huan shook his head. “The time has not yet come. You’ll probably need to take medicine for another year or so before your blood can transform into antidote medicine.”
Duanmu Lin made an acknowledging sound, his face bland and expressionless.
The two walked all the way from the Medicine Gate to Yangxin Hall. Duanmu Lin raised his head to look up at those high, long stairs made of white jade. This was the first time he had witnessed with his own eyes the majestic grandeur of the Zhuyin Sect Leader’s great hall, which was indeed extremely different from Wanci Manor’s simple and restrained style.
Suddenly several figures appeared before them, blocking their way. They were Zhuyin Sect’s Zhuhuo Guards who bowed to Wen Huan, their expressions faintly anxious. ” Wen Daren, the Young Sect Leader’s condition doesn’t look good.”
“The poison has flared up again?” Wen Huan’s expression changed slightly. “Is the Sect Leader in the hall?”
“Yes, this time the attack is severe. The Sect Leader is inside accompanying the Young Sect Leader and has issued a prohibition against anyone disturbing Yangxin Hall.” Having said this, the Zhuhuo Guard quickly bowed his head to add, “Of course, Wen Daren is naturally an exception. Please.”
The Zhuhuo Guard bowed and stepped aside. Wen Huan looked at the child he was leading and hesitated for a moment, but still brought Duanmu Lin quickly up the stairs.
As soon as they entered the hall doors, the chaotic voices from inside reached their ears. It seemed as if everyone from physicians to servants to guards had all been thrown into a pot called anxiety to boil. Duanmu Lin felt his hand was being gripped painfully tight by Wen Huan. He tugged back but received no response.
Wen Huan led him to the inner hall before the bedchamber, then strictly ordered him to wait there, while he himself went inside, knocked on the bedchamber door, and hurriedly entered.
Duanmu Lin had no choice but to wait there in boredom.
Many people shuttled quickly past him, but no one gave him a second glance. The boy in blue robes stared indifferently at those bustling people, trying to imagine what the Zhuyin Sect’s Young Sect Leader, supposedly his same age, looked like.
Perhaps he was a child like soft jade, born noble but with a delicate body. From birth, held dear in everyone’s hearts, wrapped in several layers of the softest, warmest brocade quilts and protected very carefully. When ill, he would cough pitifully and shed tears. No matter how he threw tantrums, he would be indulged, and whatever he wanted would be delivered to his side.
Heh, truly blessed fate.
Duanmu Lin suddenly very much wanted to catch a glimpse of that Young Sect Leader. He thought he at least needed to know what kind of person he had come here to suffer for.
He looked around—in the chaos, still no one was paying attention to him.
So Duanmu Lin quietly took a step and crept toward the direction Wen Huan had gone.
But he had barely reached the bedchamber door when he heard an extremely miserable whimper. The voice was childish, yet so shrill it made one’s heart jump with fright, making it completely unbelievable that it came from a child.
Duanmu Lin only felt a chill down his spine. He hurried forward a few steps and peeked inside through the open bedchamber door.
His first glance fell on the large bed in the bedchamber. The pear wood headboard was carved with dragons and phoenixes, inlaid with gold and embedded with pearls, with several layers of curtains hung above—indeed the magnificent luxury he had imagined. But three or four servants were surrounding the bed in a circle, seemingly using all their strength to press down someone who was struggling in pain on the bed.
Duanmu Lin’s pupils constricted slightly.
It was that Zhuyin Sect’s Young Sect Leader.
The Young Sect Leader seemed to have something stuffed in his mouth and could only emit faint, dying whimpers. Duanmu Lin couldn’t see the Young Sect Leader’s appearance clearly—he could only see an extremely pale and extremely fragile hand reaching out from between those servants’ forms.
That hand struggled in the void, convulsing, opening and clenching again and again, the slender joints almost bursting through the snow-white skin, as if trying to grasp a life-saving straw that could give him a breath of relief in this sea of suffering.
But there was nothing, nothing could save him. In an instant, that hand heavily struck the bed corner, then desperately clawed tight, the fingernails immediately shattering and bleeding.
A servant hurried to stop the Young Sect Leader’s self-harm but couldn’t pull away that tensed hand no matter what.
Finally, it was Yun Guyan who reached out his arm, forcefully prying open the child’s spasming fingers one by one and gripping them tightly in his own palm.
Duanmu Lin finally saw again that Zhuyin Sect Leader who had plotted to abduct him. But Yun Guyan no longer showed any trace of that arrogant momentum from before. His hair hung disheveled over his face as he sat haggardly and despondently by the bedside, his hands covering the child’s hands, futilely channeling internal energy continuously.
Wen Huan stood behind Yun Guyan, supporting his shoulder and constantly urging him in a low voice. Duanmu Lin couldn’t quite hear what was being said. He stood outside the hall with cold hands and feet, his heart trembling in waves.
Yun Guyan’s unfathomably deep internal energy couldn’t suppress it even a little—just how terrifying was this Fengchun Sheng poison?
At this moment, he immediately realized he had been wrong.
And wrong outrageously, completely and utterly wrong.
This Zhuyin Sect Young Sect Leader—his fate was not good at all.
Wanci Manor established itself in the jianghu through medical arts, and large numbers of the sick and injured came daily seeking treatment. Therefore, when Young Master Lin was at the manor, he could be said to have seen countless poisoned patients, yet none had ever made him feel such fear just from watching.
He had also grown accustomed to patients’ miserable screams, so he could hear all the more clearly just how terrifying the pain suppressed in this Young Sect Leader’s seemingly weak whimpers truly was.
Duanmu Lin lowered his eyelids, forcing himself to move his gaze away from inside the hall. He thought again of what Yun Guyan had said about so-called “fate.”
An innocent infant, yet from birth having to be accompanied by such pain—if this too was called fate, then just how malicious was this inscrutable will of heaven?
Duanmu Lin didn’t know how long he stood at the door, until at a certain moment, the miserable whimpers suddenly stopped as if cut off.
The servants who had formed a circle gradually dispersed a few steps. Duanmu Lin’s heart sank. He couldn’t help but raise his eyes again, vaguely seeing a white-robed child collapse limply in Yun Guyan’s arms like a puppet with cut strings, seemingly having fainted.
That pale little hand that had been struggling ceaselessly just moments ago hung down covered in blood, not moving at all. Crimson blood drops were falling one after another along the soft, powerless fingertips.
Yun Guyan carefully held that white-robed child, yet veins bulged on his neck and his body shook more and more violently. Wen Huan’s face showed faint sorrow as he dismissed the servants for the Sect Leader, then turned back to console his master.
But no matter how Wen Huan tried to console him, it was useless. Until at a certain moment, Yun Guyan seemed unable to suppress it any longer and actually buried his head and let out hoarse, low roars.
That low roar actually sounded like a sobbing wail, and the next moment several tears fell on the child’s bloodless cheeks.
Outside the bedchamber, Duanmu Lin stood stunned as if struck on the head, his mind in complete chaos.
He never imagined that a man like Yun Guyan could cry, and cry so heartbreakingly—like the king of beasts fallen into a desperate situation with nowhere to turn, issuing an unwilling yet powerless roar at the heavens.
That Zhuyin Sect Leader who could call wind and rain in the jianghu, holding his poison-stricken child, was like holding a handful of snow about to melt away.
“……”
Duanmu Lin took a deep breath.
He closed his eyes to calm his emotions and decided to quietly walk back before Wen Huan came looking for him.
Before turning to leave, Duanmu Lin looked back at the bedchamber one last time.
He sighed rather melancholically to himself—
Truly tragic.