Chapter Eight: Just Call Me Brother
Shen Wan struggled desperately, unable to breathe, when a deep voice sounded just beside his ear:
“Don’t make a sound!”
He froze for a moment—this voice seemed strangely familiar.
Hadn’t he just been discussing the meaning of life with this voice not long ago?
The man’s grip was strong, but Shen Wan managed to turn his head slightly and glance out of the corner of his eye.
Lin Bufan!
So it was this guy—the little immortal he’d met outside the sect, their acquaintance forged in a scuffle over an egg.
Shen Wan had no idea why Lin Bufan had dragged him here, but seeing Lin’s pale yet serious face, he obediently quieted down.
Lin Bufan ignored him, holding his breath and keeping alert to their surroundings.
After about the time it takes for incense to burn, Lin finally exhaled softly and released his hand from Shen’s mouth.
Curious, Shen Wan was about to speak, but Lin Bufan quickly gestured for silence.
He whispered so faintly it was barely audible:
“Follow me.”
Without waiting for Shen Wan’s response, he turned and slipped deeper into the alleyway.
Shen Wan, bewildered but undeterred, followed close behind.
The furtive atmosphere made him feel as though he were a secret agent sent to assassinate someone—he felt suddenly tense and excited, though still utterly confused.
Trailing Lin Bufan, the two darted through courtyards and alleys until, after some time, they stopped outside a secluded residence.
Lin Bufan floated lightly up and said, “Come in!”
With that, he vaulted over the high courtyard wall, entering the grounds.
Shen Wan stood dumbfounded, gazing up at the wall.
It was tall—he estimated visually, about three meters, perhaps more.
Inside, Lin Bufan waited a moment, realizing Shen Wan hadn’t followed.
He raised an eyebrow, hopped back over the wall.
“Why aren’t you coming in?”
Landing beside Shen Wan, his expression remained vigilant.
Shen Wan was at a loss, and after a moment managed to mutter:
“I can’t fly.”
Lin Bufan looked at him, puzzled.
“I can’t fly either. Only after reaching the Foundation Establishment stage can one ride a sword. But surely you can jump over a wall this low?”
Shen Wan was silent.
He glanced at the wall again, gestured with his hand:
“I can probably…jump this high.”
The height he indicated was barely that of a man.
Lin Bufan’s confusion deepened—how could someone who could block his sword only jump so little?
But Shen Wan clearly wasn’t lying.
Helpless, Lin Bufan led him through the main gate instead.
Inside the courtyard, Shen Wan muttered:
“There’s a perfectly good front door, yet you insist on climbing walls—Is this your sweetheart’s house?”
Lin Bufan didn’t answer right away, cautiously checking outside as silence reigned.
He finally closed the gate and breathed a sigh of relief:
“What sweetheart? This is my own residence.”
He replied nonchalantly and led Shen Wan toward the backyard.
Shen Wan was surprised—he hadn’t expected this place to belong to Lin Bufan.
A wealthy man indeed!
He hurried after Lin Bufan, his gaze sweeping the courtyard.
He’d imagined all sorts of grand scenes inside, but the reality stunned him.
No flowers, no ornamental plants.
No rocks, no streams.
The entire courtyard was planted with vegetables—closer inspection revealed something resembling tomatoes.
All his visions of grand mansions vanished instantly.
Trailing Lin Bufan, Shen Wan couldn’t suppress his curiosity:
“What a nice courtyard—why plant so many tomatoes?”
---
“Tomatoes?”
Lin Bufan turned to glance at them.
He thought for a moment—this name didn’t appear in his Immortal Botany Manual.
“These are Earth-grade Fire Spirit Fruits. When ripe, the fruit preserves some fire elemental power—cultivators who practice fire techniques like them.”
Seeing Shen Wan’s clueless expression, he offered a brief explanation.
Shen Wan found it amusing, thinking to himself:
“What a grand name! If you add eggs, would it be ‘Spirit Fruit Fried Phoenix Eggs’? Ha ha ha…”
---
The courtyard was large, but the two quickly entered the inner compound.
The scenery here was less rustic—there were flowers, grass, a stream.
Still, compared to the otherworldly landscapes outside, it paled in comparison.
They entered the main house together, closed the door, and Lin Bufan finally turned to Shen Wan:
“How did you get in?”
“I walked in.”
Shen Wan was unconcerned, spotting a pair of armchairs facing the door.
Without hesitation, he dropped into one.
After a day of walking, his legs could finally rest.
He relaxed, but Lin Bufan grew anxious.
“You walked in? You broke the sect’s wards?”
He tensed.
The sect’s ward was a half-step Grandmaster-level barrier—even a Soul Pill realm elder couldn’t break it silently.
Unless one was a Grandmaster of wards; otherwise, the sect’s alarms would have sounded.
“Could this guy be a Soul Pill realm master?!”
Lin Bufan’s mind reeled.
He knew Shen Wan was powerful, but it seemed impossible that he’d be a Grandmaster.
After all, there were only a handful of ward Grandmasters on the entire Valley Continent.
Besides, Shen Wan looked so young—how could it be?
Master Lun Ye, the Valley’s foremost ward Grandmaster, was one of the continent’s most revered figures, and also the head of the Ye family, one of the four great clans.
White Sage Elder, though less famous, was equally skilled; if the two dueled, the outcome would be uncertain.
Lian Shiping, already at the pinnacle of ward mastery, would soon reach Grandmaster status; she was the prodigy of the previous generation of the Lian family and the aunt of Lian Daihe, the sect’s own celebrated talent.
Though not as beautiful as Lian Daihe—Lian Daihe was truly lovely, whom Lin Bufan admired greatly, uh…
“No, impossible!”
Lin Bufan mentally reviewed every famous ward master on the continent.
None of these legendary figures would have the leisure to sneak into his sect.
He eyed Shen Wan warily.
If this man were truly a ward Grandmaster, why would he need to ask Lin Bufan for a place to stay?
Someone of such status would be greeted by the sect master with drums and fanfare.
Ward masters were rare treasures on the Valley Continent.
Though his sect was considered a major one, it had only one ward master.
The more he thought, the more muddled he became—his brain finally reached its limit.
Shen Wan glanced at the teacup on the table, flipped the lid—it was empty.
He wanted to ask Lin Bufan for water, but seeing Lin’s shifting moods—shaking his head, troubled, casting fearful glances—he grew wary himself.
“Is this guy insane? He treats that egg like a wife…”
The more he thought, the more cautious he became.
A boy must protect himself when out in the world.
He tightened his clothes, losing even the desire for water.
Both men were secretly wary, but grew more respectful toward each other.
“Um… Brother Lin, where am I sleeping tonight?”
Shen Wan was exhausted after a long day and had no patience for Lin Bufan’s oddities.
---
Lin Bufan snapped out of his thoughts, replying quickly:
“Brother Shen, you are too polite. I am still young; please call me your junior.”
He dared not be presumptuous.
Shen Wan scratched his head, looking at Lin’s pale face, and couldn’t help replying:
“I’m only eighteen.”
Lin Bufan froze, then awkwardly said:
“I…sixteen…”
Internally, he grumbled.
He was actually over twenty, not young in the sect, though he had once been a prodigy…
Of course, Shen Wan didn’t suspect anything; he was simply too tired.
He replied:
“Thank you, Junior Lin.”
He bowed in proper form.
Thankfully, he’d watched enough dramas to manage the etiquette—he was truly exhausted.
Following Lin Bufan to a side room on the west side of the courtyard, he found it tidy and well-furnished.
After a brief exchange of politeness, Lin Bufan finally returned to his own room, relieved.
Shen Wan quickly bolted the door, then, feeling it wasn’t secure enough, fetched a chair to wedge beneath the latch.
He shook the door—it didn’t budge. Only then did he relax.
He tossed his belongings aside, and dove onto the bed like a hungry tiger.
Since arriving in this world, he’d only slept inside a crocodile’s stomach—this was the first real bed he’d seen, and it was wonderfully soft.
Hugging the quilt, he felt everything smelled sweet.
His nerves eased, his tired body finally allowed to collapse.
Within moments, soft snores escaped his lips.
In three minutes, he was sound asleep.
---
In his dreams.
Shen Wan wandered in a mist, his expression hazy.
The scene was oddly familiar.
Gradually, a figure emerged from the fog, indistinct.
He couldn’t see the person’s face, but the voice was familiar.
“Boy, how have you been lately?”
Shen Wan paused, then finally remembered who it was.
Wasn’t this the one who’d spouted nonsense, then told him he was some spiritless thing?
“Why are you here again? Who are you?”
He asked.
The figure floated quietly, seeming to hesitate before saying:
“You needn’t worry who I am. I just realized I forgot to mention something.”
“Oh, then can you repeat that long speech from before? I still don’t understand.”
“Get lost!”
---
The figure trembled slightly, then calmed.
“As a spiritless one, you will never be able to cultivate by absorbing the world’s spiritual energy. But when you learned this technique, eight heavenly meridians were opened within you. This was achieved by my countless years…”
The voice suddenly faltered, tinged with melancholy, perhaps a hint of unwillingness.
But the emotion faded quickly, and he continued:
“Work hard to clear them. Open the heavenly meridians, build the Great Dao. May you shine in your future life.”
The voice was grand—Shen Wan was utterly bewildered.
He understood each sentence separately, but together, nothing made sense.
“Um… I don’t get it. Can you repeat it?”
“…"
The figure fell silent, then seemed to curse quietly before vanishing into the mist.
Shen Wan stared blankly after him.
Just then, a muttered phrase drifted closer:
“Damn, stumbled on an idiot!”
The voice lingered, fading away…