Chapter 972: Hit Him

Mei Shiren?Mei Shiren, one of the Seven Sword Immortals?

The storyteller had long heard of the renowned sword master, Mr. Shiren, but like everyone else on the continent, he had never seen Mr. Shiren in person. Upon hearing the name, his spirits lifted, and he bowed respectfully, saying, "Greetings, Mr. Shiren."

This was a true senior master! Unlike the title "Eighth Sword Immortal," which was earned through battle, the appellation "Mr. Shiren" represented Mei Shiren's achievements in the legacy of ancient sword cultivation, making him a grandmaster for a hundred generations!

"Mm." Mei Shiren tapped his paper fan, offering little response. He looked at Bazun An and went straight to the point: "After going to all this trouble to meet in such a place, I wonder why you sought me out?"

"For the legacy of the sword, and for the future of the sword," Bazun An declared righteously.

Mei Shiren subtly raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting such an answer. He smiled and said, "The Eighth Sword Immortal is a great talent of this era, skilled in nine major sword arts. If it's for the legacy or future of the sword, I believe what you can achieve is not much less than what I, an old man, can."

"I cannot," Bazun An shook his head decisively. "I have already sealed my sword. Under the current 'Martial Arts Ban,' my body has also become frail. My life has been fraught with misfortune, and I am no longer suited for strenuous activity."

Sealed his sword... Mei Shiren's eyes narrowed slightly. He suddenly recalled the young swordsman he had met at the First Heaven's Pavilion. Had his deduction truly hit upon Bazun An's current predicament? Indeed, his judgment had not been mistaken. That young man was a genius! What a pity, though, that the other party had considerable ambitions and was unwilling to become his disciple.

Mei Shiren felt a pang of regret but his face was wreathed in smiles as he said, "Since your 're-emergence,' your 'activities' can hardly be called 'ordinary.' Is this your self-interpretation of the Holy Slaves' recent actions?" He spoke pointedly, clearly aware by now that Bazun An had slaughtered seven hundred white-clad figures in White Grotto, sent Gou Wuyue back to the mountains and into prison, fished in the Yunlun Mountain Range, single-handedly orchestrated the Sage War, and used a rare treasure to draw the world's attention to the Sky City, making everyone flock to it.

And indeed, in reality, none of those incidents or events could be described as signs of 'unsuitability for strenuous activity.'

Bazun An, however, smiled slightly. "Mr. Shiren, I imagine you see more than just the surface. But even an ordinary person walking can inadvertently step on an ant. What I've done, apart from the White Grotto incident, is merely playing a game of Go... How can such a minor game be called 'strenuous activity'?"

Mei Shiren fell silent.Playing Go... It sounded simple when he put it that way, but the opponents he was playing against were far from simple.

"As expected of the Eighth Sword Immortal!" Mei Shiren praised, then stopped pressing the matter and returned to the topic. "So, specifically, what help do you need from me?"

Bazun An looked deeply at him. "Teach swordcraft!"

Teach swordcraft? Mei Shiren was taken aback. Of course, he couldn't interpret Bazun An's words as a request to teach him sword arts—where would he even begin? The implication was that he was being asked to teach someone else the path of ancient sword cultivation. Who could it be? What an honor! For Bazun An himself to appear and persuade someone to teach swordcraft, how significant must that person be?

Without much thought, Mei Shiren replied, "This also seems to be one of your strengths? And 'teaching swordcraft' can hardly be considered 'strenuous activity.'"

"Of course not," Bazun An chuckled. "Unfortunately, I'm busy playing Go and can't spare the time to teach anyone."

No time... Mei Shiren was choked by the excuse. You don't have time, so you're asking me to teach? Isn't that a bit too convenient, to the point of being absurd? Do I look like a carefree wanderer with ample time on my hands? Feeling annoyed, Mei Shiren forced a chuckle and said nothing more. He and Bazun An had actually not met often and shared little acquaintance, so he naturally had no intention of agreeing to such an unreasonable request.

"Well?" Bazun An, as if oblivious to Mr. Shiren's expression, asked with a smile.

Mei Shiren paused, realizing that the other man was clearly not so foolish as to misunderstand his meaning. But "teaching someone"... Mei Shiren never liked being coerced. He taught people purely by destiny and divine will, never forcing anyone, nor ever deliberately seeking out destiny or encounters. Considering this, Mei Shiren gave no verbal response, but with a *swish*, he opened the folding fan in his hand and gently fanned it towards the two men before him.

The wind howled by the river, so why was a paper fan needed for coolness? But as the fan was spun open, Bazun An and the storyteller's gazes halted and fell upon its surface. On it, in bold, inky characters, were three words: "I refuse."

The storyteller stared, stunned. He had watched closely and hadn't seen Mr. Shiren change fans. And when the other man had first appeared, he had already been holding this very fan. Didn't that mean that from the very beginning, Mr. Shiren had made up his mind not to accept his elder brother's request, and never wanted to get entangled with the Holy Slaves? Yes! If he had accepted, it wouldn't just be a simple matter of "teaching swordcraft." It would directly mean Mr. Shiren entering the fray, and the faction he chose would be the "Holy Slaves"—the opposition to the Holy Divine Palace! The storyteller knew that Mr. Shiren was able to remain aloof precisely because he had no stance himself; he never sided with anyone, dedicating himself solely to the path of the sword.

Beside him, Bazun An's thoughts were somewhat different from the storyteller's. He showed no surprise or doubt, his gaze quickly shifting from the three words on the fan, as if he hadn't seen them. "Mr. Shiren has moments when he cherishes talent, doesn't he?" he hinted, as if recalling a scene where a young swordsman roamed the world and encountered Mei Shiren with Wen Ting in the snow.

Mei Shiren understood the implication but gave no response, still gently fanning himself with the folding fan: I refuse!

Bazun An did not give up, pressing on, "What if it's a great talent like me?"

Mei Shiren's movement stiffened. Such self-praise, coming from anyone else, would have made him turn and leave. But with Bazun An saying it, he was intrigued. However, intrigue could mean trouble. Mei Shiren didn't want to take such a risk, so he resumed fanning himself and smiled, saying, "I do cherish talent, but I'm never one to eagerly teach others, and I dislike forcing anything..."

"What if it's Xu Xiaoshou?" Bazun An's cloudy gaze fixed, and he interrupted.

The storyteller looked sideways, his eyes wide with astonishment. He hadn't known Bazun An's purpose for this visit beforehand. But when Bazun An personally stated that he was here for Xu Xiaoshou, the storyteller suddenly felt a touch of... jealousy? When had his elder brother ever been so kind to anyone?

Mei Shiren's fanning motion stopped again, his eyebrows raising high. It took a full three breaths for his expression to relax before he said, "So that's it... But if the person to be taught swordcraft is Xu Xiaoshou, then it's even more impossible."

"Why?" the storyteller asked.

Mei Shiren glanced at him and chuckled ruefully, "To be honest, I have met Xu Xiaoshou, and I did have the desire to teach him. Unfortunately, he didn't accept my good intentions."

Bazun An, as if already knowing everything, calmly said, "Xu Xiaoshou is a very conceited person; he only responds to toughness, not kindness. To put it plainly, he's arrogant and prideful. He was even forced to become Sang Qiye's disciple, and because of my involvement behind the scenes, he wouldn't accept Mr. Shiren's good intentions either."

The words were too blunt, practically implying, "With me here, his refusal is correct, because he truly doesn't need you." If it had been anyone else, Mei Shiren would have turned and left, but he acknowledged Bazun An's statement. While he could acknowledge the facts, Mei Shiren absolutely could not accept the underlying implication. He chuckled wryly, "So, are you suggesting I should force him to learn sword arts?"

"Of course not. That wouldn't suit Mr. Shiren's style and would be completely out of character," Bazun An shook his head. "People like Xu Xiaoshou cannot be approached normally."

Mei Shiren unconsciously closed his folding fan and tapped it lightly, but he didn't ask a question. One question, and he would reveal his curiosity.

Bazun An, however, had already seen that Mei Shiren was swayed by his words, or rather, that he had long been impressed by Xu Xiaoshou but had reluctantly left him alone. If Xu Xiaoshou had truly agreed, perhaps Mei Shiren would have already entered the game! To be honest, with talent like Xu Xiaoshou's, which "eager teacher" wouldn't be fond of him?

Thinking of Xu Xiaoshou, Bazun An also thought of Old Sang. To deal with Xu Xiaoshou, one needed someone like Old Sang, not a lukewarm fellow like Mei Shiren! So, Bazun An grinned and said, "Mr. Shiren, perhaps consider it from a different angle. Xu Xiaoshou's talent is so exceptional that you don't actually need to 'teach' him. As long as you can make him grasp what he 'should learn,' my request will be fulfilled."

Not "teach," but still enable him to "learn"? Mei Shiren was doubtful, but his lips finally parted. "I'm eager to hear the details," he said.

"Hit him!" Bazun An said succinctly.

The storyteller beside him looked back at his elder brother in shock, his expression suddenly turning strange. Mei Shiren was equally startled. Hit him? How could that work? How was that the way of a teacher?

Bazun An knew they had both misunderstood him. He sighed and explained: "Mr. Shiren, Xu Xiaoshou is no ordinary person. He needs 'lessons,' not 'lectures.' Any action taken in a normal situation won't cause him the slightest ripple... But hitting him is different!"

Bazun An's expression suddenly became animated. Under Mei Shiren's astonished and suspicious gaze, he elaborated: "Xu Xiaoshou is naturally rebellious. As I've said, he responds to toughness, not kindness; if you try to persuade him with gentle words, he'll never appreciate it. But if you hit him, scold him, or humiliate him, he'll develop a desire for revenge. His nature is... unique, yet his learning ability is extremely strong. If you humiliate him with swordcraft, he'll surely develop the idea of 'using his own methods to repay him in kind,' and then he'll learn what you use and use what you teach. In this way, won't our objective be achieved?"

After Bazun An finished speaking eloquently, Mei Shiren and the storyteller listened intently, then both fell silent. Was this not too deep an understanding of Xu Xiaoshou? "I wish I could..." the storyteller's emotions were complicated. "Could it really work...?" Mei Shiren was still in disbelief.

Soon, he realized: why should he undertake this thankless task? It was clear that Bazun An didn't want to do this troublesome thing himself, fearing resentment, so he had summoned Mei Shiren instead. There was no "I don't have time," no "unsuitable for strenuous activity"—they were all just excuses!

"To incite a person's desire to learn through hatred—such base and despicable methods are not something I can do," Mei Shiren sneered coldly, then with a *swish*, he opened his "I refuse" fan again and slowly fanned himself.

"If you refuse, then leave, why are you still here...?" Bazun An chuckled inwardly, but his face remained serious as he offered a solution: "Mr. Shiren, you're overstating it. This isn't a despicable method, but rather... *ahem*, teaching according to aptitude. Since you're concerned Xu Xiaoshou might feel resentment, it's simple: you just need to offer some comfort and hints while you're 'hitting' him. With Xu Xiaoshou's intelligence, he will surely grasp the meaning and then feel gratitude. Combining both stick and carrot, I believe you, sir, are far more experienced than I am in dealing with such 'difficult' students."

Bazun An stopped speaking at the opportune moment, leaving Mei Shiren deep in thought. The storyteller was also pondering, though his thoughts seemed to have drifted far away.

After a long while, the paper fan was closed again. Mei Shiren tapped his palm and feigned a question, "Why should I help you?"

Because he's Xu Xiaoshou... Bazun An knew perfectly well. Among the sword cultivators of the Eastern Region, who didn't know that Mei Shiren had competed against You Tu and lost miserably? Old Man You Tu had nurtured an Eighth Sword Immortal, while Mei Shiren, despite having disciples everywhere, didn't have a single one he could boast of.

But at this moment, Mr. Shiren couldn't lose face and needed an excuse, which Bazun An perfectly understood. "This is a junior's request, and in return, I can get you into Sky City," Bazun An said with a smile. "There, you'll find what every spirit refiner under heaven yearns for: a Foundation of Saintly Ascent!"

"Do I lack that?" Mei Shiren thought to himself, his expression unreadable as he gazed at Bazun An. Yet, the other man's face was equally calm, as if he held all the cards. It seemed Bazun An believed the terms he offered were highly tempting to Mei Shiren.

Mei Shiren suddenly smiled. It was indeed very tempting. But not because of the "Foundation of Saintly Ascent"; it was because of Xu Xiaoshou himself.

"As for Foundations of Saintly Ascent and the like, there's no need to mention such things between us, fellow ancient sword cultivators; they're meaningless," Mei Shiren said, shaking his head. "Regarding Xu Xiaoshou, I can help you. But the condition isn't what you've stated, nor do I currently lack anything... Consider it a favor you owe me!"

At these words, the storyteller's thoughts were pulled back to reality, and he looked over with a bewildered expression. Bazun An was momentarily stunned, but the next second, a smile blossomed on his face.

A favor owed was excellent! If it were an ordinary person, favors were difficult to repay and best avoided. But for an elder like Mei Shiren, who lived a life unburdened and unaligned, if he ever asked for help, wouldn't that be tantamount to announcing to the world that he was siding with the Holy Slaves?

Bazun An almost thought he had misheard, but he preferred to go along with it and not give the other party a chance to retract. So he immediately took over, saying, "Your talent, sir, I admire immensely. If you have any instructions, simply speak, what need is there for a favor?"

Mei Shiren tapped his paper fan and smiled knowingly. "There will be."

At that remark, Bazun An had a sudden realization. The other man had long understood what kind of misunderstanding his words would cause. But this, in fact, was no misunderstanding at all! Mei Shiren had long harbored the intention to join the game!

"Where is Xu Xiaoshou now?" Mei Shiren asked, as if he couldn't wait another moment to go 'hit' someone.

Bazun An suddenly fell silent. Faced with such frankness, he momentarily felt ashamed of his own contingency plans. "Hm?" Mei Shiren hummed, as if smelling a conspiracy again.

Bazun An sighed. "When you next see Xu Xiaoshou, it should... be on Void Island."

Mei Shiren immediately froze. Void Island? Didn't that mean that as long as he agreed to Bazun An's request, he would, regardless of anything, end up on Void Island with the help of the Holy Slaves, and subsequently be deemed by the Holy Divine Palace to have taken a side—and against them at that?

"The Eighth Sword Immortal is truly a genius strategist, playing chess, playing chess... So it turns out I, an old man, am also a pawn," Mei Shiren said, a half-smile on his face.

"Ahem, ahem..." Bazun An awkwardly coughed twice, not daring to respond directly. "So, about Xu Xiaoshou?"

"Hmph!" Mei Shiren let out a heavy snort, hinting, "My students will certainly be no worse than You Tu's disciples!"

With that, he once again opened his paper fan and slowly fanned it. This time, facing the two Holy Slaves, was not the side with the three bold words "I refuse," but the other side, which had been hidden all along: "Deal!"