I'm Just Your Student, and You're Just My Teacher

Wu Zhangkong remained silent for a long time.

He listened to Zhong Shenxiu say, "One person doing the work of three," and, "Where would I find the time?" Every word was calm, as though he were merely reciting a class schedule, yet every word was like a block of ice weighing heavily on Wu Zhangkong's heart.

But he did not back down.

"Zhong Shenxiu."

Wu Zhangkong spoke, his voice as cold as ever, but carrying an unusual persistence. "Stopping appropriately won't make you weaker."

Zhong Shenxiu looked at him without speaking.

"Your current training intensity has already surpassed that of the vast majority of adult Soul Masters."

Wu Zhangkong continued, "You can make Soul Tools slowly, learn formations slowly, and earn money slowly. You're only nine years old. You don't need to push yourself this hard."

He paused.

"You can spend more time with your classmates. Tang Wulin, Gu Yue, Xie Xie... they're all excellent. You don't have to be alone."

After hearing him out, Zhong Shenxiu shook his head.

The movement was slight, almost imperceptible, but his stance was resolute.

"Teacher Wu," he said.

Wu Zhangkong waited.

"You're a good teacher."

Zhong Shenxiu's tone was calm, as if he were stating a fact unrelated to himself. "I started thinking that from the moment you were willing to help a troublesome student who had been locked in solitary confinement for three days."

He paused.

"Not every teacher cares whether their students have money or food to eat. Nor does every teacher specifically seek out a student for a talk because he has no friends."

Wu Zhangkong's brows drew together slightly. He did not interrupt.

"But," Zhong Shenxiu said, "as a teacher, you also need to know when to stop and when to keep your distance."

Those molten-gold vertical pupils calmly met Wu Zhangkong's gaze.

There was no hostility, no resistance, none of the rebellion or impatience young people usually showed when being lectured by an elder.

There was only a tranquil, unchangeable certainty.

"I'm just your student."

Zhong Shenxiu said, "And you're just my teacher."

He had not put it too bluntly.

But they both understood the implication behind those words.

...These matters were none of your concern.

Wu Zhangkong fell silent.

He recalled that many years ago, he had said something similar to someone else.

Back then, he had still been young. Having just lost his parents, he had traveled alone from a northern town to a great city to study, carrying the Sky Frost Sword martial soul. Exceptionally gifted, proud by nature, and unwilling to associate with others.

Someone had cared about him, asking why he was always alone and whether he needed help.

He had said, "I'm just your student. And you're just my teacher."

That person never asked again.

Only later did he gradually understand that it had not been rejection. It had been fear.

Fear that accepting someone's kindness would make him weak. Fear that once he grew accustomed to someone being by his side, he would no longer be able to face the darkness alone. Fear that once he believed in the word "companion," he would be unable to bear losing them.

He had wrapped himself in indifference, not because he did not need anyone, but because he had not dared to need anyone.

But Zhong Shenxiu was different.

Wu Zhangkong looked at him. Those golden vertical pupils held no fear, no hesitation, none of the cowardice Wu Zhangkong himself had once possessed.

It was a genuine, complete indifference.

It was not that he did not dare to need anyone.

He truly did not need anyone.

"I understand."

Wu Zhangkong said.

His voice returned to its usual coldness, revealing no emotion.

Zhong Shenxiu nodded and left without another word.

When the two returned to the training grounds, everyone in Class 1-5 clearly sensed that something was wrong.

The training ground, whose atmosphere had already been solemn, now seemed to have acquired another layer of invisible frost.

Zhong Shenxiu was as unbothered as ever. That sharp-featured, expressionless face of his had not changed since the start of school. Forget emotions—he could barely be bothered to lift his eyelids. His classmates had even started a private betting pool on whether he would ever smile. The odds had already reached five hundred to one, and no one had won yet.

But Wu Zhangkong was different.

This iceberg of a teacher had always radiated chill, but now storm clouds seemed to cover his handsome face, so cold it was as if frost could be scraped from it. His footsteps were three parts heavier than usual, and the hem of his white coat whipped in the wind. Wherever he passed, the students automatically made way, afraid of being caught in that low-pressure aura.

"What's wrong with Teacher Wu?" a girl whispered.

"I don't know. He was fine just now."

"Could Zhong Shenxiu have angered him?"

"How is that possible? Zhong Shenxiu can't even say three sentences a day. How could he anger anyone?"

"..."

Everyone secretly looked toward Zhong Shenxiu.

Zhong Shenxiu returned to his original spot, sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and regulated his breathing, with no expression on his face.

That calm, detached appearance somehow made everyone feel... that he had definitely done something.

Wu Zhangkong stood at the edge of the field with his arms folded, coldly sweeping his gaze across the group.

His eyes first fell on Tang Wulin. The black-haired boy had just finished a sparring match and was wiping away sweat. The moment Wu Zhangkong looked at him, he froze in place and even forgot to wipe his face.

Then his gaze fell on Gu Yue. The Silver Dragon King girl was still standing at the edge of the field, playing with a wisp of flame at her fingertips. Sensing Wu Zhangkong's gaze, she raised her head with a baffled expression.

Finally, his gaze landed on Xie Xie. Xie Xie was leaning close to Tang Wulin and muttering quietly. The instant Wu Zhangkong looked at him, he stood straight as a tightly coiled spring.

"Tang Wulin, Gu Yue, Xie Xie, the three of you, step out."

Though they had no idea why Wu Zhangkong had called them out, the three instinctively rose almost at the same time.

Wu Zhangkong looked at the trio, who vaguely centered around Tang Wulin, and finally showed a faintly relieved expression.

These three children each had their own problems, but at least they were together.

Tang Wulin was like a little sun, keeping Gu Yue and Xie Xie close to him. Although Gu Yue was not particularly invested in cultivation, she at least took it more seriously when Tang Wulin was around. Though Xie Xie had a sharp tongue, he obeyed Tang Wulin completely.

Not bad. At least better than that...

Wu Zhangkong's gaze drifted uncontrollably toward the edge of the field.

Zhong Shenxiu sat cross-legged with his eyes slightly closed, his breathing even. Faint golden light flowed around him. He looked completely detached from the world, as if nothing had happened just now, as if he had never told his teacher, "These matters are none of your concern."

Wu Zhangkong's face immediately darkened again.

"Zhong Shenxiu," he called.

Zhong Shenxiu opened his eyes, his golden vertical pupils turning toward him.

"You step out too."

Zhong Shenxiu tilted his head slightly.

That expression rarely appeared on his face. Paired with those predator-like vertical pupils, it somehow made him seem... confused?

Like a young dragon pondering, Why is this two-legged creature disturbing my sleep again?

But he did not ask further. He merely stood and walked to the center of the field.

Wu Zhangkong looked at his calm, unruffled manner and gave a cold snort.

"Now." His voice was frosty. "The three of you will attack Zhong Shenxiu together."

Tang Wulin was stunned.

Gu Yue was stunned.

Xie Xie was stunned as well.

"What?"

Xie Xie blurted out, "The three of us against him?"

Wu Zhangkong looked at him coldly. "Is there a problem?"

Xie Xie opened his mouth, wanting to say, "Of course there's a problem," but Wu Zhangkong's stare—cold enough to freeze someone into an ice sculpture—forced the words back down his throat.

"No problem," he changed his answer, his voice as soft as a mosquito's.