Chapter 97: Into a Martial Arts Novel, Day 19
Chapter 97: Into a Martial Arts Novel, Day 19
Chapter 97: The Nineteenth Day of Transmigrating into a Wuxia Novel
The reason Yan Yu could so readily believe in and defend An Yi had nothing to do with some so-called integrity or judgment!
It was entirely because he had long been head over heels for Ayi, completely losing his head!
His dirty thoughts were written all over his face!
Ling Fengyao felt a tightness in his chest, an inexplicable anger rising inside him.
He looked at Yan Yu’s resolute “I understand you” expression and wished he could cover those eyes of his staring at Ayi!
Fine, what a fine disciple of a righteous sect—and he had even put on that prim and proper act!
Earlier, he had been all righteous indignation, ready to vanquish evil, but the moment he learned the “demon” was Ayi, he switched sides faster than turning a page!
This was pure lust clouding his judgment! He was completely dazzled by beauty and power!
Ling Fengyao’s heart burned with jealousy; he wanted to grab Yan Yu by the collar and yell: “Wake up, you fool! Ayi is no innocent victim being wronged! He may not be evil, but he’s far from ‘pure and upright’! He’s a force to be reckoned with! He’s got plenty of tricks up his sleeve!
And... and...
And Ayi is closest to me!
This thought swept through Ling Fengyao’s mind like wildfire, startling even himself, but then he felt even more justified.
That’s right! Closest to me!
He thought smugly: why else would Ayi have shared the secret manual with him behind Yan Yu’s back?
Ling Fengyao shot a glare at Yan Yu, who was still caught up in his “defending Young Master An’s honor” mindset, then turned to look at An Yi.
An Yi was also looking at Yan Yu at that moment. At Yan Yu’s defense, a flicker of... helplessness? passed through his eyes.
He neither confirmed nor denied Yan Yu’s guess, simply asking in a flat tone, “Oh? Is that so?”
This ambiguous attitude only made Yan Yu more convinced, and he nodded emphatically: “That must be it!”
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Hooves clattered on the slightly damp cobblestones, splashing tiny droplets of water.
They were nearing Jiangnan.
Since the storm of identity revelation in Qishui Town, the atmosphere among the three had been thick with an unspoken tension.
Yan Yu’s mood was especially complicated and somber.
Riding his horse, his gaze would unconsciously drift toward the tall figure ahead.
The fact that An Yi was the Young Master of the Fuyi Sect was like a thorn in his side, at odds with the righteous teachings he had received and his sect’s upcoming “demon-hunting” campaign.
Yet, on the other hand, during this journey, An Yi had displayed strength, composure, and even a certain detachment and fairness that contrasted sharply with the rumors, making it impossible for Yan Yu to see him as a “demon.”
A thought lingered in his mind: If only Brother An could leave that filthy place, the Fuyi Sect.
The Skyward Sect might not be the top sect in the martial world, but it was upright and pure in its ways... As soon as the idea arose, he suppressed it.
Not to mention whether An Yi would be willing; given his problematic identity as the Fuyi Sect’s Young Master, if Yan Yu rashly invited him, not only would his sect never agree, but it could also bring endless trouble to An Yi.
He wanted to return to his sect at once to report that the Fuyi Sect’s Young Master was still alive and that there might be no internal strife, so that his sect wouldn’t make wrong moves and suffer unnecessary losses.
Yet deep down, he felt a strong reluctance and hesitation; he didn’t want to part ways with An Yi, as if saying goodbye would mean never seeing each other again.
This tug-of-war left a persistent cloud over his brow, and he couldn’t even enjoy Jiangnan’s beautiful scenery along the way.
How could his unusual demeanor escape An Yi’s notice?
One day at noon, the three stopped to rest their horses by a clear stream.
Ling Fengyao, as usual, stuck close to An Yi, trying every trick to curry favor. Yan Yu, however, sat silently on a green rock not far away, wiping his already gleaming longsword, his expression pensive.
An Yi took the pastry Ling Fengyao handed him but didn’t eat it immediately. Instead, he looked up at Yan Yu sitting alone by the stream and suddenly spoke, his voice calm and even, but loud enough for Yan Yu to hear: “Troubled about whether to go back to your sect and report?”
Yan Yu’s hand, wiping the blade, froze abruptly. He looked up in shock, meeting An Yi’s eyes that seemed to see through everything.
His lips moved, but he didn’t know how to answer.
An Yi didn’t need his answer, though. He continued calmly, “Don’t worry about me. If you want to go back, then go. The various sects’ plan to besiege the Fuyi Sect is their business; it has nothing to do with me.”
His tone was so calm and detached, as if discussing something unrelated to his own safety and the survival of his faction.
Yan Yu felt a surge of anxiety and blurted out, “But if they learn your identity, they will definitely not let you go! And... and if the Fuyi Sect is destroyed because of this, you...” He couldn’t imagine An Yi losing his place.
“The Fuyi Sect is the Fuyi Sect, and I am I.”
An Yi’s tone remained flat, and he gave a faint smile: “Its rise and fall have their own causes. As for me...”
He tilted his head slightly, sunlight filtering through the leaves and casting a golden hue on his jade-like profile: “If they want to make a move, let them come.”
This almost arrogant composure was rendered utterly real by his absolute strength.
Yan Yu stared at him, his heart churning with indescribable emotions—worry, admiration, and an inexpressible feeling pounding against his chest.
He was silent for a long time, then finally took a deep breath, as if making a decision. He stood up, walked before An Yi, and solemnly cupped his fists:
“Brother An, I... I really need to return to my sect to report the truth. But I, Yan Yu, swear right now that when I return, I will do my utmost to report to my masters what I have seen and heard, to clear your name! I will never let those slanders defile your reputation!”
An Yi looked at him but slowly shook his head: “No need.”
“Why?” Yan Yu didn’t understand, pressing urgently: “You clearly are not what they say...”
“Reputation means nothing to me.”
An Yi interrupted him, a detached indifference in his tone: “You don’t need to do anything for me. For your own sake, don’t get too deeply entangled with the Young Master of a demon sect, lest you needlessly tarnish the reputation of the Skyward Sect.”
His words were straightforward, even harsh, laying out the harsh realities before Yan Yu.
A righteous disciple going out of his way to defend a demon sect’s young master would invite unimaginable criticism—anyone could see that.
Ling Fengyao’s lips curled into a smirk without him realizing it. From the start, Ayi had never tried to distance himself for the sake of “reputation”—didn’t that mean something?
If An Yi knew what he was thinking, he would probably scold him. Why did he act this way?
It was simply because Yan Yu had a sect, while Ling Fengyao was a lone wolf.