Chapter 58: To Hell with Cultivation

Ye Ming glanced at Zhang Tiantian, as if asking silently whether he, too, ought to take a bath and let these two boys scrub his back. After all, with all the worries of recent days, he was feeling a bit tired.

Zhang Tiantian watched the master walk toward the rear courtyard and pretended not to see anything.

Inside the bathhouse, Ye Kun and Ye Qin wore stiff, awkward expressions.

“Haven’t you boys eaten? Put some strength into it!” Ye Ming was in absolute bliss, his arms resting on the edge, his whole body soaking in the warm water, with two sons massaging him—this was the life of an immortal! Having sons was certainly useful.

Ye Qin muttered softly, “Father, why don’t you ask Mother to massage you?”

Ye Ming’s mouth twitched. Usually, your mother is the one enjoying herself, and I’m the one doing the work. I’ll never enjoy a massage from her in this lifetime. But how could he let his sons know that? He’d lose all dignity…

“If you get too many massages, it loses its charm,” Ye Ming replied with a tone of arrogant pride, as if to suggest that, before him, their mother was a docile little lamb, doing whatever he asked.

Ye Kun could only sigh inwardly. Did Father really think they were still little children? Did he have no idea of his own standing at home? It seemed he was even lower than the two of them. Apparently, he could only find a sense of superiority from them.

The three of them enjoyed a good soak, which, in Ye Ming’s words, was to “strengthen the father-son bond”—at least, that’s how he explained it to his wife.

At the dining table, a sumptuous feast awaited, filled with all of Ye Kun’s favorite dishes. Dongmen Meng had evidently put her heart into it, treating Ye Kun as her own son.

“Mother, Father, there’s something I’d like to tell you,” Ye Kun said suddenly during the meal, putting down his chopsticks and looking very serious.

Dongmen Meng and Ye Ming paused in surprise, as did Ye Qin, who also set down his chopsticks.

“What is it, Kun, dear? What do you want to tell Mother?” Dongmen Meng asked gently, her smile radiantly beautiful.

Ye Kun let out a small sigh. “Father, Mother, Little Brother, I’ve decided not to pursue cultivation anymore.”

There it was—he’d come clean. Since fate did not allow him to succeed in cultivation, he would stop trying. At this point, the thing he detested most was cultivation!

As expected, his words greatly shocked the three of them—even Zhang Tiantian and Xiao Ling were stunned.

To give up cultivation in Taijing meant there would never be a day to rise above others; even one’s lifespan would remain ordinary.

“Big Brother, didn’t you say you were determined to cultivate? Why don’t you want to anymore?” Ye Qin asked anxiously, hoping for further discussion.

Ye Ming and Dongmen Meng exchanged a glance. Clearly, Kun had suffered some blow outside, or he would never say such a thing.

Dongmen Meng had no intention of forcing Ye Kun. Such matters needed time to process—a child’s heart is capricious, after all.

“Kun, whatever you wish to do, your father and I will support you. Eat,” Dongmen Meng said softly, though she was already thinking of ways to help her son through this hurdle.

Ye Kun felt truly content—his parents were so open-minded.

“Father, Mother, I intend to devote myself to music, chess, calligraphy, and painting,” Ye Kun announced. The idea had come to him while bathing; if cultivation was no longer a pursuit, then he must seek something else in life to strive for.

Let’s see anyone try to force me to a sudden breakthrough in the arts!

Ye Qin was bewildered, as if already envisioning his bald, flamboyant brother playing the zither—how terrifying!

Even Ye Ming and Dongmen Meng’s expressions grew strange. While the arts were good for cultivating one’s mind, no one ever pursued them so deeply. What kind of blow had Kun suffered outside? Their poor child.

Dongmen Meng forced a smile despite her doubts. “Whatever you want to do, Kun, go ahead and pursue it.”

Ye Ming was about to speak, but Dongmen Meng stopped him at once. Kun was still young; when he saw more of the world, he’d come to realize the importance of cultivation. It wouldn’t be too late to begin then.

Ye Ming understood her intentions and said nothing more, though both parents felt a bit disheartened that their son no longer wished to cultivate.

After dinner, Ye Kun and Ye Qin sat together on the swing in the rear courtyard, gazing at the round moon in the night sky. The breeze carried a chill, a reminder that winter was near.

“Big Brother, why won’t you cultivate anymore?” Ye Qin asked again; his brother hadn’t answered him at dinner.

Ye Kun threw an arm around his little brother’s shoulders and smiled. “Little Brother, I’ve realized that cultivation doesn’t make me happy.”

“Why? Then what will make you happy?” Ye Qin was baffled. What did cultivation have to do with happiness?

“Seeing you grow stronger makes me happy,” Ye Kun replied. He’d figured it out: although he wouldn’t cultivate himself, he could help his little brother grow—if Ye Qin became a great power, that was a satisfaction in itself. He had become numb and could only find joy through his brother’s achievements.

“Big Brother!” Ye Qin was deeply moved—his brother was giving up cultivation just to teach him!

Your brother is already invincible; his only sense of accomplishment is through you.

“Don’t worry, Little Brother. Over the next few days, I’ll teach you a proper method of cultivation,” Ye Kun said seriously, his gaze fixed upon the full moon, making up his mind.

“Big Brother, don’t worry—I won’t let you down! If anyone ever dares to bully you, I’ll shave their head bald!”

“Don’t mention hair…”

“All right, Big Brother, look—my hair is getting long.”

“…”

Showing off your hair in front of your bald brother! Little Brother, it seems I’ll have to give you a good stretching!

Soon enough, the rear courtyard echoed with Ye Qin’s tragic yet joyous cries.

Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, six years had passed.

Ye Kun had grown up. At sixteen, he was truly captivating—his clear, black-and-white eyes seemed able to pierce all illusions, his sword-like brows and star-bright eyes paired with his bald head, forming a kind of unique handsomeness. His aura was both restrained and profound, making others instinctively keep their distance.

At this moment, Ye Kun stood in the rear courtyard before a long table made of three joined together. A sheet of white paper lay atop it, still unmarked, but he wore a grave expression, as if caught in a dilemma.

Suddenly, Ye Kun seized his brush, his movements bold and vigorous, his entire aura erupting. Anyone watching would surely exclaim, “Master… Master…”

In just a few breaths, Ye Kun set down the brush. Looking at his work, he exhaled softly.

A chick pecking at rice!

Though it looked simple, he had poured all his heart into it!

“Big Brother.”

Ye Kun’s expression shifted. He picked up the brush again, and in an instant—a magnificent landscape unfolded upon the paper.