Axolotl Translations

Chu Xinglan’s voice carried a hint of mockery. “So this is what you mean by ‘doing my part’? Forming a marriage alliance with some noble girl, just to use her family’s power and keep our footing on the edge of a cliff?” He gave a cold smile. “I have no interest in that. And I certainly don’t hold it in any esteem. To lean on others for strength is never a long-term strategy. It’s far better to rely on one’s own power.”

He was only twelve at the time, but already, the fire in his blood burned bright—a pride unique to prodigies, fierce and untamed. With a single flick of his sword, he shattered the weight of a Nascent Soul cultivator’s aura as if it were nothing more than mist—crushing not only his father’s spiritual pressure but his dignity as well.

Chu Yao was forced to retreat half a step, unable to withstand the boy’s edge. His expression darkened, unreadable. Though his cultivation had been built with the aid of pills and rare treasures, his foundation was real—he had indeed stepped into the Nascent Soul stage. Yet before this single strike from his son, he had fallen behind.

He had always known Chu Xinglan was extraordinary, born with brilliance others could only envy. But even so, witnessing it like this—raw, undeniable—still left him shaken.

He stared at the boy before him, poised like jade, his every movement echoing with natural elegance. And in that moment, a terrible thought crossed his mind: if given more time to grow, this child… even the once-legendary Chu Fengnian wouldn’t be fit to walk in his shadow.

Chu Yao fell into a long silence. The Chu family was on the verge of collapse. Three Soul Transformation cultivators had already perished. Two Void Refining elders had failed their tribulations and suffered a fall in cultivation. The only Integration-stage elder left had locked himself in secluded cultivation—likely for the next decade, if not longer. But even a dying behemoth could still crush a few ants before it fell. They could hold on a little longer—maybe.

Still, Chu Xinglan clearly had no intention of playing along. And if he forced the boy into an arranged engagement just to maintain appearances… it might well sever the last thread of affection between father and son.

Chu Yao made up his mind. He softened his expression, preparing to offer a gentler explanation to ease the growing tension between them.

But before he could speak, his headstrong son looked up and said leisurely: “Isn’t that all you want, Father? For me to have a fiancée? Then let me choose one from these girls. Surely that would satisfy you.”

When his son suddenly gave in, Chu Yao blinked in surprise. Something about it didn’t sit right. His instincts screamed trouble. “You’re serious about this?”

Chu Xinglan nodded, face unreadable. He raised a hand and pointed across the courtyard at a young girl in a green dress, her hair styled in twin buns, her features delicate and fresh. “I choose her,” he said, voice firm.

The moment the words left his mouth, Ruan Zhao turned his head to look at him. He was always alert—maybe it came with being the kind of person who was constantly sneaking snacks. His senses were sharp, his reflexes quicker. The gaze fixed on him didn’t go unnoticed.

Crumbs clung to the corners of his mouth, his cheeks puffed out from the food he hadn’t finished chewing. He looked like a squirrel caught hoarding treats, eyes wide, lips curved in satisfied delight. Seeing Chu Xinglan point straight at him, Ruan Zhao froze, utterly confused.

And it wasn’t just Chu Xinglan. Beside him stood a stern-looking man with a sharp expression that could sour milk. Trying not to draw attention, Ruan Zhao quickly returned the plate of pastries to the table, wiped his mouth, and attempted to look innocent, like he hadn’t just been stuffing his face.

But Chu Xinglan didn’t lower his hand. And the fierce-looking man beside him only grew darker, like someone had just spilled something bitter across his face.

Totally baffled, Ruan Zhao lifted a finger and pointed at himself. “…Me?”

……

And just like that, the engagement was set—sudden and haphazard. Everyone assumed it was a childish act of rebellion, a way for Chu Xinglan to defy his father. No one really believed he meant it.

Until the head of the Ruan family came knocking, all crocodile tears and theatrical grief, sobbing as he clutched Ruan Zhao like a daughter lost to the wind. Ruan Zhao stared at him with a cold, blank face.

He had no intention of returning to the lower realms with this so-called father. He remembered too well the threats, the fear, the way that man had tried to sell him off like property. There was no difference between him and the ones who had kidnapped Ruan Zhao in the first place.

So he made up his mind—he would stick to Chu Xinglan’s side no matter what. Wherever Chu Xinglan went, he would follow.

But Chu Xinglan was already twelve, and soon, he would be admitted to Guiyuan Sect to begin formal cultivation. Ruan Zhao, with his poor aptitude and average bones, didn’t even qualify for the outer sect. There was no way he could go with him.

The separation was hard on both of them. In the end, Chu Xinglan knelt down slightly and said softly, “You can wait for me at the Chu family estate.”

Ruan Zhao didn’t want to stay. Aside from Chu Xinglan, he didn’t know a single soul in the Chu family. The young masters and mistresses all looked at him from above, eyes laced with disdain and quiet mockery. Even Chu Yao’s gaze was sharp and calculating, as if constantly measuring his worth.

Chu Xinglan noticed it too. He could see that the Chu family wasn’t a safe place for Ruan Zhao. Without his protection, Ruan Zhao would be left to fend for himself—and likely suffer for it.

It was better to send him back to the lower realms for now. And then, when he had grown stronger, strong enough to protect him no matter what, he would bring Ruan Zhao back by his side.

So the two of them exchanged birth dates and performed the binding ritual at the Stone of Three Lives, sealing a spiritual engagement blessed by the heavens themselves.

Ruan Zhao didn’t really understand what any of it meant. He just did whatever Chu Xinglan asked. If Chu Xinglan told him to press his palm down, he pressed it. If he told him to release spiritual energy, he obeyed without question. He followed each instruction like it was a game.

It wasn’t until the faint red string shimmered into view around their wrists that Ruan Zhao sensed something was… different. But by then, it was already done.

Chu Xinglan gave him a pile of protective artifacts and talismans, warding him so thoroughly that not even a Nascent Soul cultivator could lay a hand on him without suffering for it.

The head of the Ruan family wasn’t stupid. Now that Ruan Zhao was tied to the young master of the Chu clan, he wouldn’t dare treat him like some disposable object again. From now on, he’d be all smiles and gentle tones—doing everything he could to please him.

Chu Xinglan said, “I’ll write to you every month. I’ll send you gifts too. If anyone bullies you, if someone treats you badly, just write me a letter. I’ll take care of it.”

Ruan Zhao didn’t answer. He only looked up at Chu Xinglan with teary eyes and asked, “When will you come get me?”

Chu Xinglan wiped his tears with care and gave him a solemn promise. “When I turn eighteen, I’ll come for you. And after that… we’ll never be apart again.”

……

Thinking back to those memories stirred something deep in Ruan Zhao’s chest. Now, the same cultivators who once wanted him dead couldn’t even withstand a single strike from Chu Xinglan.

The world fell silent—so silent even the chirping insects had vanished. It felt just like that day… the very first time he met Chu Xinglan.

Chu Xinglan always came for him—whenever he was afraid, whenever he felt helpless. Like a hero descending from the heavens, he’d appear by his side, shielding him from the world.

Ruan Zhao murmured quietly, “We… won’t be apart again.” His voice was so soft it almost disappeared into the night wind.

But Chu Xinglan heard him. The boy gave a gentle hum of acknowledgment, then carried him on his back as they left the forest behind. Behind them, red flames lit the night sky. Even the patch of grass and trees they had passed through was reduced to ash.

……

The next day, they left Lingyuan City. Chu Xinglan no longer concealed his aura. The pressure of a Nascent Soul cultivator rolled outward, effortlessly parting the way—an overwhelming presence that no one in the lower realms dared to challenge.

Even the city gate guards, who had clearly recognized Ruan Zhao as the girl from the wanted posters, didn’t move. They simply watched, eyes wide and fearful, as the two of them walked out of the city unhindered.

Ruan Zhao, emboldened by the presence at his back, turned and made a face at them. He hadn’t forgotten how just a few days ago, when he tried to sneak out of the city, this exact guard had been working with the Chen family—his wanted poster in one hand and a Spirit Mirror in the other, comparing every passing girl’s face against the image. He’d been so scared, he had to give up on escaping and hide in the mountains instead.

Now, when the guard saw Ruan Zhao’s mocking face, his expression soured like he’d swallowed a fly. He glared at Ruan Zhao, jaw clenched in silent fury. He was a Foundation Establishment cultivator—someone who held a little authority and was used to being flattered by others. When had he ever been treated like this? If not for Chu Xinglan standing right there, he would’ve rushed forward and taught that insolent little brat a lesson.

Meanwhile, Ruan Zhao continued playing the delicate act, lying limply on Chu Xinglan’s back, refusing to walk even a single step on his own. Noticing the guard’s twisted expression, he immediately leaned into Chu Xinglan’s ear, voice soft and full of false grievance.

“Brother, he glared at me.”

Chu Xinglan paused mid-step and turned his head slowly to look at the guard by the city gate. “Him?”

Ruan Zhao nodded. “Yeah, him. He was really fierce… super scary.” Ruan Zhao looked properly spooked, voice soft and cautious. “I don’t even know what I did to upset him like that.”

A crisp, metallic ring echoed through the air—the unmistakable sound of a blade being drawn. The boy’s face was colder than frost, distant and sharp like a blade of ice.

In his pale golden eyes, not a ripple of emotion stirred. Only when the girl on his back whispered to him did that glacial stillness melt ever so slightly.

As the young man stepped forward, each stride bringing him closer, the shadow of death began to loom heavily over the city guard’s head. The guard went sheet-white. And then—thud—he dropped to his knees.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” he blurted, voice trembling. “My eyes—my eyes have always been… a bit unusual! They sort of bulge, like a—like a frog’s! That’s probably why the young miss misunderstood my expression! You—you’re as dazzling as the sun, miss! You shine so brightly it’s hard to even look directly at you! How could I possibly bear ill will toward someone so divine!”

The guard’s ability to grovel was truly impressive. In the span of a few breaths, he rattled off a whole list of praises for Ruan Zhao, laying it on as thick as syrup. And whether it was genuine or not, flattery had a way of making people feel good.

Ruan Zhao never forgot a grudge. Anyone who treated him poorly, even a little, would be remembered—and one day, no matter how long it took, he’d find a way to get even.

This guard wasn’t the mastermind behind the whole thing. At best, he was just a lackey. Ruan Zhao didn’t enjoy killing. He hated the sight and smell of blood. So for now, scaring him would be enough.

Resting his cheek against his hand, he waited until the man’s flattery started to falter and his words became clumsy. Then, still smiling sweetly, he reached out and gently pressed down the sword in Chu Xinglan’s hand.

“Let’s just forget it, Brother,” he said, voice light and cheerful. “Since he apologized and admitted he was wrong, I guess we can forgive him—just this once.”

Chu Xinglan nodded. “Whatever you say.”

Finally, they left. The guard remained kneeling, drenched in cold sweat. He clenched his jaw and muttered under his breath, voice so low it was barely a buzz. “…What a pair of bullies.”

……

The next town was quite a distance from Lingyuan City. Chu Xinglan pulled a spirit boat out of his storage ring. This wasn’t an ordinary boat—it ran on spiritual energy, able to adjust its size and speed according to the cultivator’s control.

The moment Ruan Zhao stepped aboard, he was instantly intrigued. He poked around left and right, curiosity written all over his face, his attention flitting from one thing to another like a butterfly. He crouched down and noticed the hull was inlaid with high-grade spirit stones.

Clicking his tongue at Chu Xinglan’s extravagance, he still couldn’t help but try to pry one loose—just to see if it would come off.

…It actually did.

The multicolored spirit stones had been embedded in a perfect pattern, casting a brilliant glow over the little boat. Now, with a piece missing, it was like a flawless jade marred by a single chip—impossible to ignore.

Ruan Zhao froze, guilty, then instinctively tried to stick the stone back in place.

Chu Xinglan glanced over. “You like spirit stones?”

Who didn’t? They were useful for replenishing energy, served as currency, and could buy nearly anything you wanted. Asking that was like asking someone if they liked money—who in their right mind wouldn’t?

Before Ruan Zhao could answer, Chu Xinglan handed him a storage ring. “This is from the spiritual vein I gave you before. Three years’ worth of harvested stones.”

Three years of spirit stone yield… Even without opening it, Ruan Zhao knew it had to be an astronomical amount. His hand trembled. “…All for me?”

Chu Xinglan gave him a glance, ears quietly turning red. “It’s your betrothal gift. Of course it’s yours.”

Ruan Zhao slipped the ring onto his finger like it was a rare treasure. But after a beat, he reconsidered, took it off again, and tucked it safely into his robe.

It seemed even his little storage ring wasn’t completely secure… one wrong move and it could easily slip away. Ruan Zhao hesitated for a long moment before finally handing the storage ring back to Chu Xinglan.

For an instant, the boy’s expression went blank as he pursed his lips. “You don’t want it?”

Ruan Zhao shot him a sideways glance. “What do you mean? I just want you to keep it safe for me. You need to be extra careful. If you lose it, you’re going to owe me,” He said matter-of-factly as Chu Xinglan took the ring. He then added with a hint of confident mischief, “If it goes missing, you’ll have to pay up.”

Chu Xinglan nodded in agreement. “I’ll keep it safe.”

After a moment’s thought, Ruan Zhao shrugged. “Never mind—if it’s lost, it’s not the end of the world. My spiritual vein is still intact, and with you around, I’ll never be short on money.”

The spirit boat’s speed was incredible. In just an afternoon, they passed by two towns. They soared so high that the buildings below looked like ants scurrying about. Ruan Zhao peered curiously downward.

Now that he was sixteen—and apart from that one trip to the Upper Realm with his “cheap” father six years ago, he’d never seen the outside world beyond Lingyuan City. Everything was new and fascinating to him. A protective barrier enveloped the boat, so even if Ruan Zhao clung to the side, he wouldn’t fall overboard.

Still, Chu Xinglan stayed close, guarding him. “By this pace, we should reach Jingzhou Sea in ten days,” Chu Xinglan remarked.

Ruan Zhao looked puzzled. “Ten days? But didn’t you come down from the Upper Realm in just three days?”

Chu Xinglan corrected him coolly, “To be precise, it took three days and three nights. The spirit boat’s speed was pushed to its limit, I feared even a moment’s delay would be disastrous.”

The boy smiled, warm and bright. His eyes, like thawed snow, shimmered with quiet light—pure and clear. “Good thing I made it in time.”

Ruan Zhao felt a wave of heat rise to his face. He quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the missing piece of spirit stone on the boat’s hull. It really did look out of place… Maybe he should find some glue and stick it back on?

Chu Xinglan kept talking, as if lost in his own world. He spoke of how difficult the journey had been, how he’d clung to the last threads of consciousness to steer the spirit boat toward Lingyuan City…

He talked about the moment he heard what had happened to the Ruan family—how his inner state had nearly collapsed, how close he’d come to birthing a heart demon.

“Zhaozhao… you don’t know how scared I was,” his voice trembled with rare vulnerability, laced with lingering fear. “I was terrified I’d be too late… that all I’d find would be your…” He didn’t finish the sentence. As if saying the words aloud would somehow make that fear come true.

Ruan Zhao let out a soft sigh. He reached over and took Chu Xinglan’s hand, guiding it gently to rest against his cheek. His voice stretched into a tender, drawn-out murmur. “See? I’m right here. Safe and sound. Alive and well. And that’s all because of you, Brother.”

He nuzzled his cheek into Chu Xinglan’s palm, feeling the faint calluses graze his skin. “You came just in time and saved me from the bad guys… You protected me, kept me from harm.”

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