Chapter 506: I Want to Become Your Disciple!

Chen Mu didn't explain further; he simply walked over to the bodies of the black-clad men, squatted down, and examined several of them.

After a moment, he stood up and said to Wang Hu: "These men are bandits from nearby hills—not Mo Sect members. They must have targeted this route's caravans, hoping to rob them."

Wang Hu froze, then exhaled in relief.

As long as they're not from the Mo Sect, that's fine.

But he quickly grew tense again: "Young Master… the one who escaped…"

"He won't come back," Chen Mu said coolly. "Men like him value their lives too much."

Wang Hu nodded, then suddenly remembered something and hurriedly bowed with clasped fists: "Thank you, Young Master, for saving my life! I was blind to your greatness and treated you with disrespect before—I beg your pardon!"

Chen Mu waved his hand. "Wang Captain, you're too formal. Clear the road first, and leave this place as soon as possible. The stench of blood will draw beasts—and other troubles."

Wang Hu nodded vigorously and immediately ordered the escort guards to clear the fallen trees and corpses from the path.

…

Fifteen minutes later, the caravan resumed its journey.

The bodies of the black-clad men had been dragged into the woods, the fallen trees pushed to the roadside; apart from a few still-wet bloodstains on the ground, it was nearly impossible to tell a fight had just taken place here.

The escort guards' faces remained tense; they kept glancing back at the figure in the blue robe in the center of the group, their eyes filled with awe.

Chen Mu continued walking beside Xia Lin and his disciples, as if nothing had happened.

But the youths' gazes toward him had changed completely.

Zhao Song walked beside Chen Mu, hesitating for a full fifteen minutes before finally blurting out: "Young… Young Master, how did you do those moves just now?"

Chen Mu glanced at him. "Which moves?"

"That one! You slapped that black-clad man and sent him flying—and that one, where you grabbed his wrist and twisted it—and that one too…" Zhao Song flailed his arms wildly, his eyes blazing with excitement.

Chen Mu smiled slightly. "You want to learn?"

Zhao Song nodded frantically.

Chen Mu said: "First, master the basics. Your foundation is too weak—you couldn't use what you learn yet."

Zhao Song's face fell, but he quickly rallied: "Then tell me—how should I train?"

Chen Mu looked at him, then at the other youths staring at him with hopeful eyes, and after a pause, asked: "What cultivation methods have you practiced?"

The youths rattled off a list of names—all common beginner-level martial arts found in the mortal world.

Chen Mu listened, saying nothing.

Xia Lin chuckled beside him: "Young Master, don't mind them—these kids are all students from the Academy. Martial training is just a side pursuit; they only want to strengthen their bodies."

Chen Mu nodded, saying nothing more.

Qian Ming suddenly asked: "Young Master, how come you weren't afraid after killing so many?"

At this question, everyone fell silent and turned to Chen Mu.

Chen Mu paused, then said: "Afraid."

"Afraid?" Qian Ming blinked. "But you looked…"

"Like you weren't afraid?" Chen Mu said coolly. "Fear isn't only shown by trembling or running away. Knowing fear—and still doing what must be done—that's true ability."

The youths fell into thoughtful silence.

Li Wan whispered: "Young Master, have you… killed people before?"

Chen Mu glanced at her, but didn't answer.

Li Wan realized she'd asked something she shouldn't have; her face flushed, and she lowered her head.

Xia Lin smoothly changed the subject: "Young Master, do you think there'll still be danger ahead?"

Chen Mu said: "Hard to say. Though this route is commonly used by caravans, with the Great War between the orthodox and the Mo Sect dragging on, bandits and outlaws have multiplied everywhere. Captain Wang's chosen path is already among the safer ones—but safety is only relative."

Xia Lin nodded, sighing: "The world is becoming increasingly unstable."

Chen Mu said nothing in reply.

The caravan traveled another half-hour; the sky gradually darkened.

Wang Hu found a sheltered hollow against the wind and ordered the camp to be set up.

The escort guards skillfully pitched tents and lit bonfires.

The merchants pulled out dried rations and gathered around the fire, whispering quietly.

The atmosphere was slightly lighter than during the day, but fear still lingered on every face.

Chen Mu sat beneath a large tree, eyes closed, resting.

The youths huddled together, stealing glances at him now and then, murmuring softly.

"What do you think Young Master's realm is?" Zhao Song whispered.

"Definitely not Mid Innate Stage," Qian Ming said. "My father is Late Innate Stage—I've seen him fight. He's nowhere near as powerful."

"Then what realm? Earth Altar Stage?" Sun Yuan guessed.

"Earth Altar Stage has several levels," Zhao Song scratched his head. "My brother told me: Crossing the Divine Bridge, Gathering the Three Flowers, Five Qi Facing the Source, Seeing the Spirit Unharmed, Ascending the Heavenly Soul Altar… which one is Young Master?"

The youths exchanged glances, none able to answer.

Li Wan whispered: "Whatever it is, it's definitely powerful."

Zhao Song suddenly rolled his eyes, stood up, and walked toward Chen Mu.

"What are you doing?" Qian Ming grabbed him.

Zhao Song shook off his hand, stepped before Chen Mu, and bowed respectfully.

"Young Master."

Chen Mu opened his eyes and looked at him.

Zhao Song took a deep breath and said: "Young Master, I want to become your disciple!"

Chen Mu looked at him, saying nothing.

Zhao Song felt uneasy under Chen Mu's gaze, but gritted his teeth and said: "I know my talent is poor and my foundation weak, but I can endure hardship—anything you want me to do, I'll do it!"

The other boys also ran over and stood behind Zhao Song; though they said nothing, their longing was unmistakable.

Chen Mu fell silent for a moment, then said: "I do not take disciples."

Zhao Song's face fell.

"But…" Chen Mu changed tone, "for the next few days on the road, I can give you a few pointers. How much you learn depends on you."

The boys' eyes lit up instantly.

"Thank you, Young Master Bu!"

"Young Master Bu is so kind!"

"We'll study hard!"

Chen Mu waved his hand, signaling them to quiet down, then asked: "First, tell me—what's the biggest problem you face in your cultivation?"

The youths began speaking all at once.

Some said their internal energy flowed poorly; others said they couldn't execute techniques; some said they always felt something was missing…

Chen Mu listened to each one, nodding occasionally, asking questions now and then.

Xia Lin sat by a nearby campfire, watching this scene, a hint of satisfaction flashing in his eyes.

This young man, though mysterious in origin, has a good heart.

…

In the days that followed, the party continued westward.

During daytime travel, the boys clustered around Chen Mu, listening as he explained cultivation difficulties.

After setting up camp each night, Chen Mu had them practice techniques, critiquing each one individually.

Zhao Song had the weakest foundation, but made up for it with diligence.

He practiced a basic fist form over a hundred times, only stopping when Chen Mu nodded.

Qian Ming had the highest talent, but was impetuous, always eager to learn advanced techniques.

Chen Mu made him practice the basic sword form a hundred times, until his arms could barely lift.

Sun Yuan was the quietest, but his mind was keen—he grasped things instantly.

Chen Mu gave him extra glances, occasionally offering him additional advice.

Li Wan was the only girl, and her cultivation method leaned toward yin and softness.

Chen Mu taught her how to use an opponent's force against them, how to redirect a thousand pounds with four ounces—she learned rapidly.

Xia Lin sometimes came over to listen; though he did not practice martial arts, he found Chen Mu's explanations deeply interesting.

"Young Master Bu, what you just said—'intent leads, force follows'—bears resemblance to studying literature."

One evening, the party made camp on a plain, and Xia Lin and Chen Mu sat by the campfire chatting.

Chen Mu said: "I defer to your wisdom, Mr."

Xia Lin smiled: "Even in literature, there is the concept of 'intent.' If the meaning of a text is not fully grasped, and one rushes to write, the result will be shallow. One must first ponder deeply before putting pen to paper, only then can one produce fine writing."

Chen Mu pondered this, then nodded.

Xia Lin looked at him and suddenly asked: "Young Master Bu, if I may be so bold—have you found any leads to the answer you seek?"