Chapter 254: Old Wound

Chapter 254 Old Wounds

Xiao Wu slept far more often than he was awake.

He curled half his face into the quilt, brows slightly furrowed, sleeping soundly from sunrise to sunset, taking up every inch of Xie Shu’s bed.

Xie Shu didn’t mind. While Xiao Wu slept, he sat nearby paging through books, studying the *Wuwang Heart Sutra* from beginning to end and back again. Over the course of a few days, he had grasped roughly two-thirds of the original owner’s cultivation.

But that was only in terms of internal energy. When it came to sword techniques, combat, or displays of power, he remained woefully inexperienced.

The palace did have sword manuals, but swordsmanship and cultivation methods were vastly different. Xie Shu had studied them a bit on his own but still couldn't make heads or tails of them.

After some thought, he decided he would have to find an opportunity to disguise himself as Song Xiaoyu again and ask Xiao Wu to teach him the basics of swordsmanship.

Each evening at twilight, Xiao Wu would briefly wake, and Xie Shu would remove the bandages to check the state of his wounds.

With good food and medicine, most of the wounds had already scabbed over, the new skin beneath a faint pink as the scabs fell away.

The healing itch was maddening, and Xiao Wu would unconsciously reach to scratch in his sleep. Swaddled in blankets, Xie Shu couldn’t pull him out to keep a constant watch. More than once, by the time Xie Shu noticed, Xiao Wu had already scratched his wounds until they bled.

Xie Shu sighed.

He flipped open a book that recorded esoteric arts and found a binding spell, using his mana to firmly restrain Xiao Wu’s hands.

When Xiao Wu finally stirred awake, his clouded eyes fluttering as he moved his arms helplessly, Xie Shu set the book aside. "Did the Immortal Lord sleep well?"

As usual, Xiao Wu ignored him.

Xie Shu: "Does the Immortal Lord feel numbness in his arms, unable to move?"

He glanced at the prepared script and leisurely added, "That’s because the toxins have invaded your organs, corroding your meridians, causing sporadic numbness in your limbs."

"..."

Xie Shu: "Why doesn’t the Immortal Lord speak?"

Xiao Wu lifted his eyelids, then lowered them again. After a long silence, he finally said, "I’ve also studied binding spells. If the Sovereign is worried that my struggling might affect the efficacy of the medicine, you could have just said so."

Xie Shu waved his hand, dispelling the restraint, then reached out to check Xiao Wu’s temperature. *The fever had broken*, he thought.

But outwardly, he said, "Indeed. You thrashed about too much in your sleep—you must've been in torment. Immortal Lord, when I checked your pulse earlier, the toxins will take effect in half a month at the latest. When that happens, your vitals will sear, and the pain will be unbearable. Are you prepared?"

"..."

Xiao Wu closed his eyes, unwilling to engage further. "Since arriving at Wuwang Palace, I’ve long been prepared. The Palace Lord need not amuse himself at my expense."

Piecemeal, they worked through their lines. As night deepened and Xiao Wu could no longer stay awake, Wu Buke brought another bowl of medicinal soup.

As usual, it was meant to calm and soothe, but under the Palace Lord’s piercing stare, he had to mutter something about scorpions and snakes before watching as the Palace Lord lifted the white porcelain bowl and pressed the spoon to Lord Pingwu’s lips.

Once the medicine was finished, the Palace Lord would hand the bowl back to him and wave him away as if shooing a fly.

Wu Buke wore a sour look as he carried the bowl out, feeling that the main hall of Wuwang Palace was strangely desolate, without even a single maid in attendance. Here he was, the Medicine Hall Sovereign, personally carrying bowls.

Then, he suddenly realized—the main hall had been devoid of servants for a long time.

Xie Chunshan had loved indulgence and extravagance, surrounding himself with a small army of attendants and comely maids. The palace had once been filled with ceaseless feasting, music, and dance. But now, apart from the Palace Lord himself, the sole remaining occupant was Lord Pingwu laid up in bed.

Clutching the empty bowl, Wu Buke couldn’t help but glance back, squinting slightly as his eyes traced across the main hall.

Here’s the refined translation incorporating the expert suggestions:

Can a person change so drastically in just a few short days?

On his way back to the Medicine Hall, he happened to see Xue Sui heading toward the Abyss Water Prison and stopped him with a smile, saying, "Sovereign Xue, got some free time today?"

Xue Sui cupped his hands in greeting. "Just these past couple of days. Xiao Wu was brought to the Palace Lord’s chambers, otherwise I’d still be guarding the door."

He glanced at the bowl in Wu Buke’s hand. "What’s this?"

Wu Buke: "Bringing medicine to Lord Pingwu. Looks like we’re trading off bad luck."

Then, as if casually, he added, "Back when Lord Pingwu was still under your supervision, did the Palace Lord often visit the Water Prison?"

Xue Sui didn’t hide anything, recounting how Xie Chunshan had imprisoned a servant, retrieved a talisman from the servant’s possession, and then carried a food box to the Stillness Pavilion.

After exchanging a few pleasantries, Xue Sui said, "I’m needed at the Water Prison. I must take my leave."

Wu Buke smiled warmly. "After you, Sovereign Xue."

*

He bowed in farewell, but as his gaze fell back on the bowl in his hands, the smile on his lips vanished without a trace.

Xiao Wu slept in the palace for seven straight days.

His external injuries had mostly healed, but the damage to his meridians couldn’t be mended by mere rest. Xie Shu lowered his eyes to look at the figure beneath the blankets and thought, "His complexion has improved quite a bit."

At least he now resembled a healthy person rather than someone who might collapse at the slightest breeze.

In the original storyline, Xiao Wu had endured seven days of trials, the details of which need not be elaborated. By the end, he should have been hanging on by a thread.

Xie Chunshan hadn’t had his fill of torment yet and wasn’t ready to let him die, so he stopped midway. However, Xiao Wu’s will was too unyielding—Xie Chunshan failed to extract the pleas for mercy he desired and found the whole thing boring. Unable to think of new ways to torment him on the spot, he simply dumped Xiao Wu back into the Water Prison, intending to summon him again when he felt like it.

Xie Shu stuck to the script as usual.

He summoned Xue Sui and dismissed him back to the Stillness Pavilion.

Xue Sui accepted the order with a grimace.

In the original text, the Immortal Lord should have been half-dead by this point. Knowing the Palace Lord wasn’t done playing and couldn’t let him die, Xue Sui didn’t dare to withhold food or water. But now, as he shot a glance at his Palace Lord, he felt even more hesitant.

When Xiao Wu had arrived, he needed support to walk. This time, after leaving the Palace Lord’s bed, Xue Sui instinctively moved to assist him, only for Lord Pingwu to wave him off politely, saying, "I appreciate it, Envoy. I can walk by myself."

Xue Sui glanced at the Palace Lord, not daring to force the issue—lest the Palace Lord misunderstand and have his head for it. He could only trail nervously, observing as Xiao Wu, though frequently pausing and stumbling from the pain of his severed meridians, indeed managed to walk.

"..."

Well, somehow the trials made him stronger.

He wiped the sweat from his brow.

—Since when did guinea pigs get fed *tonics*?

By the time Xiao Wu left, the Stillness Pavilion had been cleaned, and the bedding replaced with fresh covers. But Xiao Wu couldn’t see it. Once the door was locked from the outside, he felt his way to the foot of the bed and sat down quietly.

That very night, "Song Xiaoyu" arrived.

The "youth" pushed open the courtyard gate, set down a gilded silver hand warmer at the entrance, and picked up a plain iron food box instead. Spotting Xiao Wu from afar, he let out a relieved sigh. "Lord Pingwu, are you alright?"

Xiao Wu, eyes downcast and deep in thought, looked up at the voice and gave his usual gentle smile. "I’m fine, Xiao Yu. Come here." He beckoned, and "Song Xiaoyu" dutifully sat down beside him.

Xiao Wu’s fingers fumbled until they brushed against the youth’s shoulder blade: "May I share spiritual energy with you now?"

Xie Shu glanced at him. Xiao Wu’s complexion had improved, with a hint of color returning to his face, so he nodded: "Much obliged."

Xiao Wu raised his hand and pressed a few key acupoints. Spiritual energy flowed into his meridians, clashing against the suppressed demonic energy. Xie Shu’s brow twitched, but he endured silently, only saying: "Thank you, Immortal Lord."

He lowered his gaze and regulated his breathing, steadying the discomfort in his body before bringing out the meal: "Immortal Lord, let’s have dinner first."

Xie Shu made as if to lift the spoon, holding it to Xiao Wu’s lips, but Xiao Wu stopped his hand: "I’ve improved a little. Let me do it myself."

His meridians were still damaged, and moving his arm still hurt, but after resting for a while, he could at least hold a spoon now.

Xie Shu released his hand: "Very well."

Xiao Wu’s movements remained labored—his hand trembled violently, dropping half the soup before it reached his mouth. When he finally managed a sip, he choked, covering his mouth as he coughed.

Xie Shu: "Easy now."

He reached out and patted Xiao Wu’s back gently.

The gesture was too much like a mortal parent comforting a child. Xiao Wu stiffened: "It’s fine... *cough*... No need... *cough cough*..."

Before he could finish, another coughing fit seized him.

Xie Shu took the soup bowl and rubbed his back to steady his breathing. In doing so, his palm inevitably brushed against jagged ridges—the marks of disciplinary lashes.

Thick, gnarled, raised scars.

Xie Chunshan had tried to see these scars before, but Xiao Wu always avoided him. Yet with Song Xiaoyu, it hardly mattered.

Xie Shu’s fingertips lingered on the scars, exploring them lightly.

As Wu Buke had said, these weren’t marks from a single punishment. They were from countless, overlapping wounds—old and new—left behind together.

Beneath Lord Pingwu’s spotless white robes, free of worldly taint, lay a body marred by scars.

Xiao Wu’s coughing had unknowingly stopped. He felt a flicker of unease at the warmth on his back: "You..."

Lord Pingwu, with his quiet dignity and a temperament that softened to kindness but resisted force, had never given Xie Chunshan a pleasant expression despite the poison and drug trials. Yet this servant in a remote prison could so easily touch his old scars.

Xie Shu lowered his gaze: "Were these wounds... punishments from the Palace Lord these past few days?"

As Song Xiaoyu, he couldn’t possibly know the origin of the scars. If Song Xiaoyu were to guess, he would only point to Lord Wuwang.

Xiao Wu let out a soft laugh. Uncomfortable, he shifted forward slightly, trying to escape the youth’s touch. But those fingertips remained fixed on the scars, tracing their contours with a heat that refused to fade.

Afraid that outright rejection might make the sensitive youth feel hurt—at that age, boys were easily wounded—Xiao Wu forced himself to stay still: "No, Lord Wuwang..."

Mentioning Xie Chunshan, Xiao Wu hesitated strangely, unsure how to summarize: "Lord Wuwang... never punished me like this."

Xie Chunshan’s recent actions had been utterly baffling.

Xiao Wu had taken the medicine and applied the ointment. It was supposed to be a half-month ordeal, yet after seven days, he felt no discomfort.

Did such a poison even exist?

Xie Shu lowered his eyes: "If not Lord Wuwang, then why does the Immortal Lord have so many scars on his back?"

Xiao Wu fell silent.

Here’s the refined translation incorporating the expert suggestions:

When he didn’t respond, Xie Shu tapped lightly at his collar and asked, "I'm a bit worried, Immortal Lord. Mind if I take a look at these?"

"......"

Xiao Wu sighed. "Just old scars, already healed. What's there to see?"

He didn’t even care himself. Why was it that first Xie Chunshan, and now Song Xiaoyu, were so hung up on these old marks?

Xie Shu said calmly, "But I’m really worried."

Silence.

In their silent standoff, Xiao Wu relented.

He loosened his outer robe, swept aside his half-tied hair, and bared his shoulders to the cold air, goosebumps rising on his skin.

When Xie Shu was pretending to be Xie Chunshan, he’d waited until Xiao Wu was asleep to get a look at the scars. But now, as Song Xiaoyu, it was Xiao Wu himself who showed them to him willingly.

In the palace, the warm glow of lanterns had made them look less severe. But under the cold moonlight, the marks looked even more brutal.

Xie Shu reached out without thinking, brushing his fingers lightly over Lord Pingwu’s shoulder blade. "Immortal Lord," he murmured, "how’d you get these? Can you tell me?"

His tone was heavy, tinged with sorrow.

Xiao Wu froze.

Sorrow? Why?

Immortal cultivators prized detachment. Once one entered the immortal path, all mortal bonds were cut. Most disciples joined the sect at an age when they could already read and remember, but Xiao Wu was different. He had no memory of his parents—he’d been purchased as a baby by his master, who’d noticed his exceptional bone structure while passing through the mortal realm.

At the time, a famine was ravaging the countryside, and children were cheaper than rice. A few coins of silver had sufficed, and the peasant couple had been grateful. Xiao Wu had no mortal name, no knowledge of his lineage. Over the long years, any family he might’ve had were long buried, their bones long turned to dust.

The rules of the immortal sect were strict. Xiao Xinghuai often said, "We are the foremost sect in the world, and you are its finest disciples—future Immortal Lords of purity and grace in the eyes of mortals. You must discipline yourselves, lest you tarnish our reputation."

Wrongdoing meant punishment.

Even though Xiao Wu was close to his fellow disciples, none had ever traced his scars with their fingertips, their voices heavy with pity.

Xiao Wu's back stiffened. "They're just trivial—"

"Immortal Lord," Xie Shu interrupted. "I want to know."

His fingertip rested on a faint pink scar—likely the oldest one, stretched and distorted by growth over the years.

Xie Shu asked, "How old were you when you got this one? What happened?"

"...Fine."

Xiao Wu sighed—it must’ve been the dozenth sigh today, as if he were exhausting a lifetime's worth.

"I was around seven or eight. My master had ordered me to master fasting, but I couldn’t grasp the technique. One night, I was starving half to death, so I hunted a bird in the woods. Some Discipline Hall lackey caught me and dragged me before my master."

Xie Shu didn’t respond, his gaze lingering on Xiao Wu's back as his fingers traced the scars.

A child of seven or eight, unable to learn fasting, driven by hunger to hunt a bird—only to be punished before he could even eat. For that? They really laid into you.