Chapter Sixty-Eight: So Many People Inflamed

Seeing Hu Yihu and Uncle Fu so stunned their jaws nearly dropped, Cang Ling maintained her enchanting, otherworldly smile. This was no young girl; she was clearly an ancestor-level figure. Hu Yihu suddenly realized that even addressing her as “senior” earlier had been too casual.

“What? Why are you so surprised? Don’t think of me as some ancient being. My spirit is quite youthful, and compared to me, you two are the real old men here. Enough chatter. I’m starving, and ever since I’ve been with this unfilial disciple of mine, he’s never once offered me anything delicious.” Cang Ling shot Hu Mo a dissatisfied glare, then began eating with astonishing speed and appetite.

Initially, Hu Yihu thought she was exaggerating, but as he watched the way she devoured her food, it was clear she really hadn’t eaten in a long time. For this, Hu Yihu cast a fierce look at Hu Mo—no words were needed; he and Uncle Fu were now wholly convinced by Cang Ling’s account.

Wronged and on the verge of tears, Hu Mo could only look pleadingly at Hu Yihu. How could he not want to offer her good food? The problem was, she was rarely around. Even if he wanted to be filial, he could hardly ever find her!

The meal itself didn’t last long. Throughout, it was mostly Cang Ling eating heartily; when Hu Yihu asked her questions, she only gave vague, absent-minded replies, leaving them at a loss and forced to offer her more food with polite smiles.

As the feast drew to a close, a wolf’s howl suddenly echoed from outside, followed by a flamboyantly dressed young man bursting in—it was Huang Sheng, the third son of the Huang family.

“Young Master Hu, you’re finally back, I—uh, Generalissimo Hu, you’re still eating, so I’ll… I’ll just head out.” The moment Huang Sheng saw Hu Yihu, his feet began to edge backward.

He cursed the servant who had tattled on Hu Mo’s whereabouts—what a heartless wretch! On his way to the Hu manor, he’d seen several servants with nosebleeds, some collapsed weakly on the ground. Baffled by the sight, he’d casually asked where Hu Mo was. They’d only replied, “Young master’s in the main hall,” before one fainted and another had to be carried off. Had he known Hu Mo was in the main hall, with Hu Yihu present as well, he’d never have come.

“Stop right there, you little whelp from the Huang family!” Hu Yihu finally spoke, his voice so chilling that it froze Huang Sheng in place as if bound by a spell.

With a stiff smile, Huang Sheng slowly turned around, nervously saying, “Generalissimo Hu, please, don’t worry about me. I already ate, I already ate.”

Hu Yihu burst into hearty laughter. “If you’ve eaten, then have a bit more. Stay for a drink with this old man. You’re a good friend of Mo’er’s; if you leave right after arriving, that would be rather disrespectful, wouldn’t it?”

Huang Sheng’s awkward expression gave way to shock, then, after a moment, a warm glow stirred in his heart. For as long as he could remember, Hu Yihu had always despised and distrusted him, blaming him for corrupting his grandson. Now, to be invited to stay—he was overwhelmed with surprise and gratitude.

He quickly agreed and sat beside Hu Mo, a shy smile on his face; in this atmosphere, even someone as thick-skinned as he felt a bit embarrassed.

His gaze drifted from Hu Yihu and Uncle Fu to the young woman eating with her head down. He couldn’t help but wonder: who was this girl?

Soon, Cang Ling looked up to grab another dish, and in that instant, Huang Sheng froze. He distinctly sensed a bloody scent in the air, and there were a few fresh red drops in the soup before him.

Hu Yihu sighed, shook his head, and coughed lightly. “Cover your nose—none of us are interested in human blood.”

Only then did Huang Sheng react, hurriedly pinching his nose. Hu Mo gave a wry smile, tapped Huang Sheng a few times, and the nosebleed finally stopped.

Anxiety churned in Huang Sheng’s heart. He’d just managed to make a good impression on Hu Yihu, and now he’d ruined it again. To lose composure like this at such a banquet—he’d never imagined it.

“What’s wrong with you? Is everyone’s internal fire running wild lately? Nosebleeds must be free these days!” Cang Ling said dismissively, still munching away.

Her words left both Huang Sheng and Hu Mo speechless. Hu Mo couldn’t help but recall his own nosebleed in front of her and Zhu Xinyue; embarrassment crept over him. This girl always knew how to push people’s buttons.

“Yes, yes, my apologies, Generalissimo Hu. My internal fire’s just been a bit excessive lately…” stammered Huang Sheng.

“Alright, enough of that. Someone, take away this soup and clear the table,” Hu Yihu called out, but after a while, not a single servant appeared.

Seeing this, Huang Sheng couldn’t help but say, “Generalissimo Hu, when I arrived, I noticed no one was around. The maids have all vanished, and many servants have collapsed from excessive ‘internal fire’ and been carried off. So, I don’t think anyone will be coming.”

Hu Yihu was taken aback. This one meal had nearly emptied out the whole Hu manor.

“Never mind, never mind, I’ll do it myself,” Uncle Fu said with a smile as he stood. He hadn’t wanted to join the meal, but Hu Yihu had insisted, which left him feeling ill at ease.

Since Uncle Fu had spoken, Hu Yihu could only agree. After all, it wouldn’t do for him to clear the table himself.

But before Uncle Fu could take a step, Cang Ling said with a laugh, “No need for such trouble. I’ll take care of it.”

As she spoke, she raised her hand; a faint white light emanated from her palm, enveloping the soup and the splattered blood. In a blink, all was gone, vanished before their eyes.

“So it really is spatial manipulation! Such a powerful technique…” Uncle Fu was left gaping in amazement. In all his years as a Battle King, he’d never witnessed a master of this caliber. The sight made his blood surge with excitement.

“Why are you all staring at me? It’s just a little trick. Let’s keep eating,” Cang Ling said casually, as if she hadn’t just performed a miracle.

Huang Sheng stared dumbly at Hu Mo, mumbling, “Young Master Hu, who exactly is this young lady? Was that truly spatial manipulation?”

Though his own cultivation was modest, Huang Sheng had read of spatial manipulation. According to the books, one needed at least late-stage Battle Saint strength to wield it. On the continent, Battle Emperors were not uncommon, but Battle Saints were as rare as phoenix feathers, and those at the late stage were even fewer, almost all in seclusion. As for Battle Gods—they were nearly lost to history.

Yet before him, this girl—who looked even younger than himself—had just displayed a power only accessible to late-stage Battle Saints. He was completely thunderstruck.

“She’s my master. With her, nothing is surprising,” Hu Mo replied, weary of repeating himself. Having such a beautiful master was its own burden.

“Your master? A Battle Saint as a master?” Huang Sheng exclaimed, drawing everyone’s gaze.

“Haha, apologies, I lost my composure again,” he quickly added with an embarrassed laugh.

“Battle Saint? And what makes you think I’m merely a Battle Saint?” Cang Ling said, setting down her chopsticks and letting out a contented burp.

Could she already have reached the rank of Battle God? This thought flashed through everyone’s mind except Hu Mo’s.

Hu Mo immediately dismissed the idea. Battle God? Her power couldn’t possibly be that simple.

Seeing their jaws all about to lock with awe, Cang Ling chuckled. “No need to discuss my abilities. Old Master Hu, I’m quite satisfied with this meal. After so many hard days, I ended up eating more than I meant to. Please do not take offense.”

Cang Ling picked up a chopstick, and with a few casual twists, fashioned it into a toothpick, which she used to pick her teeth with carefree abandon—a stark contrast to her adorable, innocent appearance.

“Senior, you are quite right. I’ll arrange a fine guest room for you shortly,” Hu Yihu replied cordially, though he could not help but feel a selfish satisfaction. With an expert like Cang Ling in the Hu manor, there was little to fear.

But Cang Ling shook her head, pointed at Hu Mo, and smiled. “No need for all that. Tonight, I’ll stay in my foolish disciple’s room.”

This pronouncement set off a storm. Hu Yihu’s eyes widened as he cried, “No! Absolutely not!”

At his outburst, Cang Ling only laughed, while Hu Mo looked utterly woeful. Cang Ling’s words had put him in a terrible spot.

After all, Cang Ling had always stayed in his room—and with her as his master, the connection was impossible to explain away.

“Old Master Hu, you’re overreacting. Do you really think this kid could do anything to me? Our sect’s techniques require face-to-face instruction. Hu Mo has just broken through and needs to consolidate his training; how could I let him sleep soundly at night? I must guide his cultivation in his room. It’s nothing untoward.” Cang Ling blinked her large eyes, smiling mischievously.

Realization dawned on Hu Yihu, and he quickly replied, “Senior is absolutely right; everything will be as you say. Should you need anything, please let me know—no need for formality.”

Hu Yihu was overjoyed. With a master of such caliber instructing Hu Mo, how could his grandson’s abilities not soar? He even dared hope that the Hu family might one day produce a Battle God. If so, what problem could not be solved?

At the thought, Hu Yihu’s fists clenched tightly as old memories surged, causing his battle aura to waver.

Cang Ling smiled faintly, and with a light tap of her delicate finger, a ray of white light shot into Hu Yihu’s brow. He immediately felt a cool clarity in his mind; all his previous agitation vanished.

“Old Master, you don’t need to call me ‘senior’—it makes me sound ancient. Just call me by my name, or Ling’er if you prefer. As for certain matters, since you firmly believe they will be resolved, why torment yourself now?” Cang Ling’s clear, penetrating gaze left Hu Yihu secretly astonished.

Just then, Huang Sheng—who had been silent—suddenly knelt down before Cang Ling and cried, “Master, please accept me as your disciple too!”