Daishan Turns The Wind Chapter 19

The cold of the thousand-year glacier slammed into Shan Wuzhou’s heart, and he fell from the air.

Feng Yuluo was startled, scrambled up, and reached out to catch him, but both tumbled to the ground.

Shan Wuzhou endured the chill in his heart, rolled over, and grabbed Feng Yuluo’s wrist to check.

Fortunately, he was fine.

He then began regulating his own breath.

There was no helping it; it was a Feng Mountain ancestral rule etched into his bones: always defer to the Ancestral Master. If the Ancestral Master were injured, his master, Feng Yarui, would never stop nagging him.

Seeing that it had emerged and its enemies had fallen, the demon immediately burst into triumphant laughter.

A ball of black mist even started gesticulating wildly.

Feng Yuluo ignored the others, guessing the demon’s preferences. He cast the Wandering Thought Technique, creating an illusion of a heated argument to surround the demon.

After waiting for a moment, confirming that the demon couldn’t escape for now, he quickly searched for the medicine bottle. He rummaged through the ruins, butt sticking up, for a long time before finally finding it. He fed one pill each to Liao Yuanzhi and Shan Wuzhou.

Liao Yuanzhi was reluctant, but the irritable Feng Yuluo forcibly pinched his chin and shoved the pill in.

He coughed, his eyes red, cursing under his breath.

Shan Wuzhou wanted to call him Ancestral Grandmaster, but seeing him wearing a mask and looking utterly disheveled, he suspected he had a secret and kept silent.

Feng Yuluo indeed didn’t recognize him, cupping his hands and saying, “Thank you for the rescue, Great Hero.”

Shan Wuzhou pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, unable to stop wondering why the Ancestral Master was here.

Liao Yuanzhi recovered, rolled his eyes, and said, “Look at the wicked mess you made, leading demons right to my house.”

“…” Feng Yuluo shot up, “I knew you’d say that, you son of a bitch!”

Liao Yuanzhi snorted, “Do I need to be polite when talking to you? You deserve this!”

Shan Wuzhou wisely watched the confrontation, knowing nothing of their history, and chose not to interfere in others’ affairs.

Feng Yuluo paced back and forth, “To put it plainly, you—you’re still holding a grudge over the past!”

“Yes, and if you aren’t holding a grudge, then why are you here?”

“I…” Feng Yuluo saw stars, “Were you completely blameless?”

Liao Yuanzhi gasped, “What did I do wrong? Who told you I was fat, so fat that if you hit me, I’d bounce back?”

Feng Yuluo rolled up his sleeves, “Didn’t you start by saying something nasty? Who says the soup someone is drinking while eating is dishwater!”

“That’s ancient history! Who told you to eat spicy hot pot without any spice? It looked exactly like dishwater, can you blame me?”

Feng Yuluo’s voice became shrill, “Even if it looked like dishwater, could you say that!”

Liao Yuanzhi’s face flushed, “Why couldn’t I? You also said my clothes were tacky!”

“You first said I never change my shoes. My shoes all look the same, so I was just trying to save trouble! Why did you have to put it so nastily?”

“When I was practicing calligraphy, you said my writing was floaty and weak! You didn’t say anything nice either!”

…

The two fell silent for a moment, then, even angrier, they started rattling off various old grievances.

Shan Wuzhou quietly walked over to the illusion, wanting to see what the demon inside was doing. Was it also arguing with some phantom?

As Liao Yuanzhi and Feng Yuluo were arguing, one of them blurted out, “You even went out in the rain to buy medicine for me when I had a fever!”

“Well, I…”

Suddenly, silence descended.

Both were dumbfounded. They had finished flipping through the old grievances and accidentally stumbled upon old kindnesses.

Shan Wuzhou tapped the boundary of the illusion.

Liao Yuanzhi regretted his outburst, holding his breath and turning his head away.

Feng Yuluo’s eyes softened, and he lowered his voice, “And you bought me food when I had no money.”

Liao Yuanzhi’s body stiffened.

The two awkwardly stared at the ground, then stole glances at each other several times. After a long silence, they suddenly both laughed.

Liao Yuanzhi cursed, “You rotten dog.”

Feng Yuluo retorted, “You old thief.”

This was the source of their long-standing grudge. They used to be good friends, always ranking close to each other—if one was eighth, the other was ninth—a pair of struggling brothers.

But at some point, their friction grew heavier, escalating to an irreconcilable point where they would exchange sarcastic insults whenever they met.

The initial falling out was caused by one of them losing composure and saying the wrong thing. Slowly, resentment mixed with retaliation, deepening the misunderstanding. Their words became increasingly hurtful, aimed directly at the other’s core, digging deeper and deeper.

Eight hundred years later, it seemed they had finally buried the hatchet with a laugh.

Shan Wuzhou frowned, feeling a persistent pain in his chest. The medicine hadn’t helped much, and regulating his breath was difficult. He looked back in alarm.

Feng Yuluo was fine, having avoided injury, but Liao Yuanzhi…

Liao Yuanzhi spat a mouthful of blood, his body unstable, and he collapsed.

Shan Wuzhou reached out to check his pulse and gently shook his head at Feng Yuluo.

“Why, why did you block that attack?” Feng Yuluo squeezed the words out of his throat, feeling heavy, as if he had swallowed a steelyard weight.

Liao Yuanzhi wiped his lips, “This is my home. If a demon dares to offend it, of course, I must block it. Otherwise, if I relied on you, you’d already be dead.”

Feng Yuluo spat out the weight, opening his mouth to curse, but changed course at the last moment, “How do you feel?”

“It’s not like tasting fine wine.”

Feng Yuluo took a deep breath.

Shan Wuzhou sighed and stepped away, leaving the final moments to the two arch-enemies.

Liao Yuanzhi laughed heartily at Feng Yuluo’s frustrated look, “After being so wicked for so many years, suffering some retribution is only right. Anyway, I don’t have many days left.”

Around him, the small blades of grass were withered and yellow, just like this small courtyard—both were reaching their end.

Feng Yuluo’s eyes reddened. All the events of eight hundred years ago flashed through his mind.

Liao Yuanzhi looked at the demon colliding back and forth in the air, saying, “If you had studied swordsmanship, you could have cleaved that brat with one strike. Why bother with the Wandering Thought Technique? What were you thinking?”

He rolled his eyes back and forth, knowing the answer but saying it deliberately.

Feng Yuluo was too exhausted to be angry, “It’s the final hour, accumulate some good karma. I apologize to you. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that before, alright?”

Liao Yuanzhi quickly interrupted him, “Don’t, don’t apologize. I told you, everyone gets their own retribution. I deserve this.”

Feng Yuluo looked up at the sky.

Liao Yuanzhi propped himself up and carefully tugged at Feng Yuluo’s sleeve.

“What do you want?” Feng Yuluo asked, slightly annoyed.

Liao Yuanzhi closed his eyes, rested for a long time, then half-opened them, saying with effort, “I have one final wish. Actually, I was planning to look for you, but who knew you’d come first.”

Feng Yuluo’s heart immediately softened.

Lifespan was determined by heaven. For them to cultivate and live for over eight hundred years was already a great blessing; they should accept death calmly.

But a friend’s final wish must be fulfilled.

He subdued the demon and sealed it inside the magical censer Shan Wuzhou had brought.

Two days later, Feng Yuluo set off, carrying the ashes.

He was still covered by the half-mask, his eyes showing no unusual emotion, though he had secretly shed tears a few times.

They had been separated for centuries, only to meet again just before being permanently parted by death.

Feng Yuluo reflected: when people are young and impulsive, why do they always use harm to express care and threats to signify reluctance to let go?

If they had both taken a step back, or even a step forward, why would these past centuries have been filled with regret?

It was pitiful for Liao Yuanzhi. His life of cultivation and travel had been magnificent, yet when he left, he was like everyone else—no matter how fat he was in life, he rapidly lost weight in those final days. His ashes only filled two jars.

Feng Yuluo stroked the porcelain jar, feeling heartache for his friend, and sighed silently.

Shan Wuzhou walked ahead. He was worried, so he accompanied him.

This was a secret Feng Yuluo kept in his heart, which was why he never removed the mask. He was also playful, wanting to pretend to be someone else to observe his disciple’s behavior outside.

Most importantly, Feng Yuluo now found Shan Wuzhou a little unsettling.

This person was too terrifying! One sentence could stir up waves that had been suppressed for eight hundred years. What would happen in the future?

He had just reconciled with his friend and then sent him off. His mind was a mess. If this young man said anything else to him, he might need to find a grave for himself right after burying his friend.

He recalled that morning over a decade ago when Feng Yarui brought the child up the mountain. He had felt something was wrong the moment he stepped out and immediately hid back inside.

Facts proved that this boy was indeed his bane.

Feng Yuluo pondered, trying to send him away, “Young Hero, this is just a small matter of a burial. You don’t need to accompany me; it’s not dangerous.”

Eighteen-year-old Shan Wuzhou was already very composed in his every move. With his right hand behind his back, he walked calmly, saying he wasn’t busy anyway.

The Ancestral Master couldn’t understand. Why did a teenager have to act like an adult? If he didn’t enjoy himself when he should, he would suffer later.

Feng Yuluo felt both sad, confused, and annoyed. He squinted at Shan Wuzhou’s back, thinking, So you’re bored, are you? Fine, I’ll double your homework when we get back.

They arrived at the destination, a mountain hollow.

The scenery was quite beautiful.

Shan Wuzhou stood on the edge of the cliff, arms crossed, looking down.

Mist swirled, and spiritual energy surged beneath the clouds.

Feng Yuluo tidied the surroundings, poured sacrificial wine into the hollow, solemnly placed the urn of ashes, and scattered a bunch of chrysanthemums.

He lowered his gaze to hide the moisture in his eyes, saying, “Brother Yuanzhi, I have fulfilled your wish. Travel well.”

Shan Wuzhou performed the junior’s bow and secretly observed the Ancestral Master.

This person was usually accustomed to being a scoundrel, so it was rare to see him display such delicate emotion. It felt quite awkward to watch.

Clouds and mist churned in the valley below. Feng Yuluo leaned over for one last look, preparing to leave.

Suddenly, “Bang!” Smoke erupted, and a cloud of mist billowed out.

Feng Yuluo was astonished. Had he left a message?

Indeed, he heard, “Hahahaha!” The youthful image of Liao Yuanzhi appeared before the cliff.

Feng Yuluo excitedly stepped forward, only to be hit full in the face by the cloud of mist.

It was sticky, smelling of wine, petals, powder, and something burnt.

“Hahahaha, my final thank you gift! Goodbye forever, you old dog Feng!”

“…”

His hair, eyebrows, eyelashes, the half of his face under the mask, and half his body were completely smeared.

Shan Wuzhou lowered his head, trying to hold it in, then burst into a gleeful laugh.

Liao Yuanzhi and Feng Yuluo had cursed each other for decades. They had reconciled before death, but apparently, the hatchet wasn’t completely buried. At the very end, he blew up the urn of ashes just to get one last insult in.

Feng Yuluo had definitely lost this round.

Feng Yuluo stood stunned for a long time, “You piece of donkey dung.”

The dignified Ancestral Master of Feng Mountain being pranked like this was surely more infuriating than being defeated in battle.

Shan Wuzhou was still laughing. This was the most unrestrained he had laughed in the past two years. What could be more entertaining than watching someone else’s misfortune?

He had also reached the age where he wanted to challenge his elders and break free from constraints.

Feng Yuluo slowly turned his head. Shan Wuzhou fearlessly raised an eyebrow. After all, the Ancestral Master was wearing a mask; he knew nothing of the inside story.

Shan Wuzhou flashed his white teeth, every one of them a blatant mockery.

Feng Yuluo lowered his gaze and smiled slightly.

“?”

Shan Wuzhou suddenly got goosebumps, sensing trouble.

Sure enough, Feng Yuluo yanked him over and firmly pressed him in front of himself.

What kind of strength did the Ancestral Master possess? Shan Wuzhou couldn’t break free.

In the mountain hollow, there was another “Bang!”

“Hahahaha, you fell for it! This is the real final thank you gift, exclusive retribution, you stupid gourd!”

…

Shan Wuzhou was cleaning his hair and clothes. He understood two things.

First, Liao Yuanzhi deliberately made Feng Yuluo put him into two jars, only to pull this stunt after death. This showed what a terrible person the Ancestral Master used to be.

Second, no wonder his master repeatedly instructed his disciples to defer to the Ancestral Master. This wicked gourd was full of malice. If he hadn’t been protected by his master, he would have been beaten up countless times.

This morally bankrupt old talent deserved to be smeared with retribution.

It took every ounce of his lifelong cultivation to stop himself from kicking that cackling old thing into the hollow.

——

Shan Wuzhou snapped back to the present, feeling speechless. So Yuanbao was the demon that had occupied the mountain road. After catching it, he had handed it over to his master. How did the Ancestral Master end up with it?

And the Ancestral Master… Shan Wuzhou recalled the day he was pressed into service to block the ashes, and a conflicting, fractured feeling arose within him. Had he developed Stockholm Syndrome?

Feng Yuluo gave him an explanation.

Yuanbao’s characteristics were complex. Many methods had been tried to purify it without success. Suppressing it beneath the mountain also allowed it to cause trouble. Feng Yuluo needed to undergo tribulation, so he thought he could use the heavenly lightning.

However, Yuanbao was formidable. Even the heavenly lightning couldn’t destroy it. It took the opportunity to create clones and scatter them, continuing to cause trouble. He had to capture all the clones.

What Feng Yuluo didn’t mention was that Yuanbao had rushed into the hearts of Liao Yuanzhi and Shan Wuzhou at the time, absorbing parts of their minds. Its characteristics had changed, and its magical power had greatly increased.

It had to be handled with extreme caution, or it could backfire a hundredfold.

Liao Yuanzhi had already passed away, so Feng Yuluo could ignore that piece of donkey dung, but he couldn’t ignore Shan Wuzhou.

Shan Wuzhou was encountering obstacles in his cultivation, finding it difficult to break through, which might be related to the part Yuanbao had absorbed.