Chapter Thirteen: The Beauty Doctor

Kept awake by the fuss made by the ghost in red, Chi Xiaoxiao, Cheng Yu could no longer sleep either. He had no choice but to get up and rehearse the combat strategies he planned to use in the upcoming competition ahead of time. Thinking back, the effort he’d expended over the past two days had amounted to nothing, and in the end, he’d been so startled by a little ghost that he’d called out for his mother even as he managed to ignite a flame. He didn’t know whether to call it a blessing in disguise or an unexpected stroke of luck.

Usually, the first attempt at casting a spell is the hardest; once you succeed, you can wield spiritual energy freely. Cheng Yu now sat at the edge of his bed, attempting to mold the flames into the shape of a little pig’s head.

“Wow, I’m amazing—even better than Wu Wa!” Cheng Yu beamed, cradling the pig-shaped flame in his hands, his whole being immersed in a rapturous joy as if he were on the verge of ascending to immortality. He had long forgotten the fright that had nearly undone him moments ago.

Chi Xiaoxiao lay on the bed, staring at the novice fire-wielder grinning foolishly at his own handiwork. Seeing that Cheng Yu had no intention of thanking him and was instead preoccupied with playing with fire and shaping pigs, completely disregarding him, the little demon king grew displeased. Finding the flaming piglet an eyesore, he glared at it for a good while before simply reaching out and smacking it apart with one hand.

“Ah! My dear piggy, what do you think you’re doing?!” Cheng Yu cried out in dismay, his hands still cupping the air where the pig had been, mourning the loss of his hard-won creation.

The pig-slaying Chi Xiaoxiao whistled nonchalantly and said, “When I heard you telling stories about scholars and fox spirits earlier today, I thought I’d try to imitate them. Sure enough, it worked—seduction by a fox spirit at midnight really can ignite someone’s inner fire. Even you, Cheng Yu, picked up pyromancy in an instant.”

Cheng Yu felt that Chi Xiaoxiao had grossly misunderstood the concept of a charming fox spirit—what seduction could there be in someone with a pale face and disheveled hair? It was more like a grim reaper coming to claim his soul. And as for igniting desire, clearly he had never heard of the saying “playing with fire gets you burned.” At such a young age, his mind was already full of mischief.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you? You’d already set up a new tactic so I could win without even needing to use fire. You just wanted to scare me for fun, but you didn’t expect your prank to accidentally produce such a result.” Cheng Yu said, as if he were conducting a serious investigation, easily revealing the truth behind Chi Xiaoxiao’s little scheme.

Chi Xiaoxiao admitted frankly, “I only did it for your own good. First, I set up a new strategy to make you let your guard down, then I waited until you were sound asleep to give you a jolt. After all, trickery can only get you so far; in the end, you have to rely on your own skills.” There was not the slightest hint of self-awareness in his words, despite being the very embodiment of cunning himself.

Cheng Yu offered a wry smile. “Then I really must thank you for your painstaking efforts on behalf of this hopeless disciple, sacrificing your good looks just to prod me forward.”

Brazen as ever, Chi Xiaoxiao replied generously, “No need to be so polite. If you perform well, you’ll have the chance to join the same sect as me. After all, everyone has seen how dazzling I am in competitions.”

“Oh? I was unconscious at the time, so I didn’t see it,” Cheng Yu responded with his signature indifference.

As the two exchanged idle banter, the heavy shroud of night outside gradually faded. With the first rays of dawn painting the sky, a new day began.

The master and disciple living in retirement atop Kongming Peak rose early, washed up, and flew back to the main mountain for the novice tournament. This time, however, Mingshuang rode the crane alone, with his uncle following alongside as escort.

Ever since Mingshuang had tested his uncle last time, things had felt awkward. After all, Ling Xiaozi and his childhood friend of an uncle were not at all close. Especially after receiving confirmation that his uncle was not a transmigrator, the slow-witted Mingshuang finally realized he was nothing but a stand-in basking in the original’s afterglow. Knowing this left a small knot of discomfort in his heart.

Fortunately, his uncle’s attitude remained unchanged. Their daily routine still consisted of cultivation lessons and biting sarcasm, with no sign of suspicion about the “amnesiac Ling Xiaozi” identity. If there was any change, it was that his uncle had recently taken up cultivating celestial fruits as a hobby and often consulted the healing cultivator Lin He for secret techniques in tree cultivation.

Lin He had always regarded Kongming Peak, with its abundance of spiritual herbs, as a paradise and would have loved to live there. He was delighted when Kong Mingzi invited him to discuss fruit cultivation, making the journey daily with great enthusiasm. His frequent visits soon made him familiar to Mingshuang.

Lin He was not mentioned in the original novel, likely because he was just another nameless passerby.

In person, Mingshuang found Lin He to be a carefree and uninhibited spirit, living life to the fullest. Unlike other healers obsessed with concocting elixirs of immortality, Lin He preferred to create all sorts of peculiar and innovative medicines.

Besides alchemy, Lin He was also skilled in divination, though few knew of this talent, since Xinglin Peak was as secluded as Kongming Peak. When Yun Ting first joined the sect, Lin He had visited and performed a divination for him, predicting he would never marry. Yun Ting was promptly struck down the mountain by a bolt of lightning.

Since then, Lin He always informed Yun Ting before foraging on the mountain, even though the owner always greeted him with a sour face. Nevertheless, Lin He would still risk his life to chat with him, and over time, they became friends.

Mingshuang also learned that Lin He had long ago foreseen him being severely injured by the Demon Lord and had specifically asked the little uncle to hunt a beast on the ice fields, from which he made a pill using its inner core—just waiting for the day Mingshuang would need it.

“Since you knew, why didn’t you warn me so I could avoid such misfortune?” Mingshuang asked Lin He.

Lin He replied, “Heaven’s secrets cannot be revealed to those involved, don’t you understand? Even if I told you, it would be pointless. By the way, the hide, bone, and blood of that ice-field beast are also medicinal. I even used its bones to make a new beauty balm—far better than that last camellia cream. Next time, I’ll give you some for your stomach; I guarantee it’ll erase any scars and restore your fair, smooth waist.”

Mingshuang thought that if Lin He were born in modern times, he’d bankrupt half the beauty companies with his ancient remedies.

On his first crane ride, Mingshuang, cared for by Ah Jiu and his uncle, arrived leisurely at the tournament grounds, where he could see from afar the old healer surrounded by a crowd of junior sisters, likely selling that very beauty balm.

Lin He was happily exchanging jars of ointment for the inner cores of beasts the girls carried. The empty bamboo basket he’d brought was now brimming with radiant beads in every color, all trophies the sisters had collected during last year’s Spirit Hunt Festival.

“Hey! Ling Xiaozi and Kong Mingzi are here!” Lin He’s sharp eyes caught sight of the two figures approaching in the sky, and he waved excitedly to greet them.

Mingshuang almost waved back, but seeing his uncle’s cold and indifferent demeanor, he realized such a casual gesture might shatter his idol persona.

But then, Mingshuang thought, since he was already a counterfeit Ling Xiaozi, a mere stand-in, why bother pretending? People would treat him well out of regard for Ling Xiaozi anyway; whether he restored the original image or not didn’t seem that important. Instead of working hard to maintain the facade, why not enjoy himself and, if possible, thoroughly sabotage the male lead’s role? That would be killing several birds with one stone.

“Good morning, Senior Lin He—save a jar of that beauty balm for me!” Resolving to let go of his idol burden, Mingshuang called out from the back of the crane Ah Jiu, smiling with an ease and cheerfulness that stunned his uncle and left all the girls below utterly captivated, some so flustered they could barely hold on to their precious ointments.

“Sinful… Truly, the charming rake wins more hearts than the modest gentleman…” Lin He squinted up at Mingshuang, muttering to himself.

An older immortal maiden touched her face wistfully. “How is it that Ling Xiaozi seems even more handsome after just a few days? Does he have some secret to maintaining his looks?”

“They say water-rooted spirits are naturally graceful and beautiful, but even ice-rooted ones can have such gentle, enchanting features,” a blushing junior sister murmured, clutching her balm and lowering her gaze, unable to look at the figure above any longer.

Lin He seized the opportunity to hawk his wares. “As everyone knows, Ling Xiaozi was gravely wounded by the Demon Lord just a month ago. He used my medicine to return from the brink of death, and the new skin on his wounds is even better than before.”

With such a living example before them, the sisters were convinced, eagerly trading their beast cores for Lin He’s beauty balm, leaving him beaming with satisfaction at his full haul.

By the time Mingshuang and his little uncle landed, Lin He’s entire box of ointment was sold out. The three of them, under the gaze of all the junior sisters, made their way together to the high platform to watch the matches.

Lin He claimed the seat beside Mingshuang that had belonged to his little uncle, relegating Yun Ting to the opposite side, completely unfazed by the daggers shot his way. Once they were seated, Lin He slyly produced a small celadon jar from his sleeve and pressed it into Mingshuang’s hand.

“The beauty balm I promised you—I hid a jar just for you before I left,” Lin He said with a wink.

Mingshuang opened the jar and caught a faintly elegant herbal fragrance, with a hint of something crisp and clean that felt familiar.

Back in the modern world, Mingshuang had loved mint gum and floral water, and found this refreshing scent instantly recognizable. He turned to Lin He and asked, “Did you add mint to this?”

“You’ve got a sharp nose! I only put in a tiny bit, just enough so the junior sisters wouldn’t lose sleep over it. If you like mint, I’ll make you a sachet next time—wear it and you’ll feel refreshed all day,” Lin He said, clearly pleased.

Shedding his idol facade, Mingshuang accepted happily and carefully stowed the little jar away.

Passing things in secret, shamelessly accepting small favors with flirtatious glances—such conduct was a disgrace to the sect. The little uncle, forced to watch the entire exchange, berated Mingshuang a hundred times in his heart and wished he could glare Lin He to death on the spot.