Chapter 25

Xu the instructor was just speaking offhand and immediately knew it was impossible.

Zheng Fa’s origins are perfectly clean.

Even the tonic soup Gao Yuan drinks daily is expensive; with his family’s finances, supporting just Gao Yuan is already a strain.

And now add Zheng Fa too?

Gao Yuan is your own son—who are you, Zheng Fa?

Not even Gao Yuan’s father would spend so lavishly to cultivate him, let alone Xu the instructor if he ever took Zheng Fa into his sect.

Zheng Fa stood in stance for a long time, hearing no evaluation from Xu the instructor, and opened his eyes in confusion to find Xu watching him with a complex expression.

That look was like smashing open a savings jar only to discover a fortune inside that didn’t belong to you—shock and helplessness intertwined.

Xu the instructor fell silent for a long while before speaking: “It seems your bone quality isn’t just good—your comprehension is exceptional.”

Zheng Fa heard this without any trace of pride.

He knew exactly why his cultivation speed was so fast.

His comprehension was probably decent—he hadn’t found the Song Crane Stance particularly difficult—but it wasn’t nearly as good as Xu the instructor imagined.

What truly surpassed Gao Yuan was seven days of modern-era training time and relatively abundant nutrition.

Seeing him so calm, Xu the instructor nodded slightly, growing even more convinced of this boy’s admirable character.

The more he saw it, the more he cherished the talent—and the more he feared Zheng Fa might harbor even a hint of arrogance.

“Cough! I said you’re good—relative to ordinary people. You know the Song Crane Stance is merely an introductory stance; you’ve barely begun your martial journey!” He couldn’t help but chastise Zheng Fa: “Remember, the Xuanyi Realm has no shortage of geniuses—three days to master the Song Crane Stance isn’t rare!”

After speaking, he gave a signal to the several disciples behind him.

The young men behind him immediately stepped forward.

“That’s right—I entered the stance in five days! Not as fast as you, but the Song Crane Stance is simple!”

“...”

Xu the instructor stared at him, vaguely recalling this boy had average bone quality and took half a month to enter the stance.

“Three days? I did it in three too—nothing special.”

Xu the instructor watched the disciple—who’d also taken half a month to enter the stance—puff out his chest with casual indifference.

“I... I” The first student to speak, Xu the instructor’s nephew, held up one finger, thought for a moment, then sheepishly added another: “Two days! I entered in two days!”

The others stared at him, their eyes laced with quiet contempt.

This guy really knows how to brag!

Everyone knows you took ten days!

“Cough! See?” Xu the instructor cleared his throat, refusing to meet his disciples’ eyes, and turned sternly to Zheng Fa: “These are my least talented students.”

The young men all turned to stare at Xu the instructor’s unblushing, dark face.

Their eyes said one thing: Only you could pull this off!

Zheng Fa found it strange—his bone quality was judged top-tier by Xu the instructor, and he’d had seven modern days of extra training.

How could he still be outdone by these people?

But then he reconsidered: the Xuanyi Realm was a place where beyond mortals stood immortals.

Maybe top-tier bone quality was just average here?

Besides, he truly hadn’t expected Xu the instructor to be so “thoughtfully cruel.”

After evaluating their martial progress, Xu the instructor dismissed the two.

When bidding Xu the instructor farewell, Zheng Fa noticed Gao Yuan’s gloomy expression—he didn’t wait for Zheng Fa as he left, and Zheng Fa followed beside him, but Gao Yuan kept his eyes fixed on the small stones on the ground, refusing to look at him.

Zheng Fa sighed softly inside.

Gao Yuan wasn’t a bad person, but he’d always, consciously or not, compared himself to Zheng Fa.

Today’s assessment, with Zheng Fa having mastered the Song Crane Stance, must have struck him hard—he could faintly sense jealousy in Gao Yuan’s sidelong glances.

Near lunchtime, Gao Yuan left as usual.

Zheng Fa silently recited passages from his modern studies, but even after the sun passed its zenith and began to tilt, Gao Yuan—who normally returned with lunch—still hadn’t come back.

Two hours later, Gao Yuan finally trudged back to their quarters, drenched in sweat.

He returned empty-handed—no lunch for Zheng Fa.

Zheng Fa looked at Gao Yuan’s sunburnt face and glistening sweat—he understood Gao Yuan had trained again, longer and harder than ever.

As for lunch...

Zheng Fa didn’t ask, but he knew Gao Yuan wouldn’t bring him anything anymore.

He rose and walked toward the door. Gao Yuan watched him with a complicated gaze; as they passed, Zheng Fa paused.

“Thank you.”

“Hm?”

Gao Yuan looked puzzled.

“Thanks for bringing me lunch these past few days.”

Zheng Fa’s expression was sincere, but Gao Yuan’s discomfort deepened.

“It wasn’t a big deal—I won’t...”

“Even the earlier ones deserve thanks,” Zheng Fa said seriously.

“...”

Zheng Fa smiled at Gao Yuan, stepped out the door, and felt Gao Yuan’s gaze fixed on his back.

He followed the path to the Zhao Fu’s kitchen—by now, lunchtime was long past.

“You’re late?” The kitchen master asked irritably.

Zheng Fa offered an apologetic smile. “Something came up.”

“Here—only these leftovers. Who’s to blame for not coming sooner?”

Zheng Fa looked at the food handed to him.

The rice was cold; the vegetables were all green, wilted, listless leaves—with not a single scrap of meat.

Zheng Fa said nothing, took the food, found an empty corridor, sat on the railing, and slowly ate as the red sunset glowed beyond the horizon.

In the days that followed, Gao Yuan indeed stopped bringing him meals.

Zheng Fa noticed the kitchen’s offerings to him were worse than what Gao Yuan had brought.

Not only was the meat far less than before.

The presentation was worse, and the taste even worse still.

Zheng Fa understood at once: Gao Yuan, as the steward’s son, had his own standing in the kitchen.

The meals he brought were likely prepared by the head chefs themselves.

As for himself?

As the Seventh Young Master’s attendant, he wouldn’t starve—but the special treatment he’d once received? Gone.

That morning, Zheng Fa and Gao Yuan still stood outside the Seventh Young Master’s study as punishment.

The Seventh Young Master sat inside, reading a book covered in so-called talismans. When he seemed tired, he looked up at Zheng Fa and Gao Yuan, eyes narrowing slightly, as if he’d spotted something amusing.

“You two—come in!”

Zheng Fa and Gao Yuan exchanged glances, unsure why the Seventh Young Master had suddenly called them.

“You two... broken up?”

The Seventh Young Master wore a gleeful, gossiping grin. Gao Yuan clenched his lips, silent.

Zheng Fa’s expression didn’t change.

“Good. I’ve thought about it—telling you both to leave together wasn’t fair. I still need an attendant!” The Seventh Young Master smiled, extending one finger: “Remember—only one attendant. If you two are too close, I’ll feel bad!”

Zheng Fa clearly heard Gao Yuan’s breath quicken slightly, then his fist clench.

Looking at the Seventh Young Master, his smile grew even more cruel.