Chapter Forty-One: Not a Slave

“…So, just as I was wandering helplessly on the brink of death, suddenly thunder cracked and lightning flashed, and a five-clawed golden dragon burst from the clouds. I thought I must have died, that all my good deeds had saved me from hell, and that the Lord of Heaven had sent not some filthy ox-headed or horse-faced demon to fetch me, but a golden dragon to take me to immortality. Yet who would have guessed the five-clawed dragon transformed into a beautiful maiden, who gifted me elixirs to heal my wounds, then broke the sealing stone of the forbidden ground for me, and helped me enter the Marrow Cleansing Pool to remake myself…”

The roommates in the dormitory listened to Yu Lang’s freshly invented tale with rapt attention, occasionally interjecting with curious questions.

Xie Zhiqian, a scholar through and through, naturally scoffed at such wild supernatural nonsense. “If you were really dead, you’d only be bound for the Hell of Tongue Extraction, not ascending as an immortal. You’re simply dreaming! I’m amazed you all find such fabrications entertaining.”

But Yang Xu, pure-hearted by nature, believed every word. “Brother Xie, I must disagree. In my hometown deep in the mountains, woodcutters often tell of strange happenings in the night. We are still young and know little of the world—perhaps there truly are spirits and immortals.”

Even Zhang Chengxing joined in. “Indeed. My father encountered odd things himself while leading troops.”

Xie Zhiqian, unwilling to argue further, simply muttered, “The wise speak not of ghosts and spirits.”

Li Dahu, for his part, didn’t believe a word. Chin propped on his hand, he pondered what kind of person could possibly shatter the sealing stone. If Yu Lang really knew such a master, why bother attending the Moonwashing Academy at all? Wouldn’t apprenticing himself to such a sage promise an even brighter future?

Just then, Old Zhang, the doorkeeper of the Self-Reflection Hall, called out, “You have a visitor.”

In came Obaba, beaming, carrying two large food boxes.

Zhang Chengxing, having grown up in the army with his father, was accustomed to seeing Kunlun slaves and thought nothing of it. The other students, however, were fascinated by the dark-skinned newcomer, bombarding him with questions and even reaching out to touch him.

Obaba, good-natured as ever, answered their questions one by one before finally making his way to Yu Lang.

He grinned at Yu Lang, his smile so wide it made Yu Lang’s skin crawl.

“You’ve gotten thinner, and taller, too. The master would be so pleased to see you now.”

Yu Lang knew Obaba was simple and meant no harm, so he returned the smile. “And you? How have you been with Tutor Du?”

“Du Fu treats me very well. Like you, he never lets me call him master or sir. The work is light, and he always praises me for being diligent.”

Zhang Chengxing frowned. “What kind of Kunlun slave dares call his master by name?”

Yu Lang explained, “Don’t misunderstand, Brother Zhang. Obaba isn’t anyone’s slave. He’s a friend to both Du Fu and me.”

“Those not of our people must have different hearts,” Zhang Chengxing said. In the army, most Kunlun slaves he’d seen were used like beasts of burden or sent as cannon fodder in the first assault, so in his eyes, they were little better than animals. Seeing one converse with men naturally made him uncomfortable.

Xie Zhiqian concurred, “Brother Zhang may be harsh, but Yu Lang, you must have standards in life. Hierarchies exist for a reason—servants are servants. Without order, there would be chaos.”

Yu Lang’s tone grew faintly annoyed. “Spare me your family doctrines. In my eyes, all men are equal. You can keep your household rules—I have mine. Let’s respect one another.”

Yu Lang understood that every era has its values. He knew he couldn’t advocate for “freedom and liberation” or launch a Renaissance in this age. He had to accept many things that troubled him. He had seen Zhang Chengxing strike a family servant for bringing lukewarm soup, yet had chosen to remain silent—he couldn’t change the fate of slaves, but at least he could protect those close to him.

Li Dahu broke the tension with a grin. “So, what did Obaba bring in those food boxes? Anything for us?”

“Oh, this is from Du Fu. He asked me to bring you all these dishes, cooked by the head chef at Celestial Fragrance Pavilion. Eat them while they’re hot.”

Li Dahu beamed and began laying out the dishes.

Zhang Chengxing sneered, “I won’t touch anything brought by a beast.”

Obaba’s temper flared at last. He pointed at Zhang Chengxing. “You insult me.”

To Zhang Chengxing, this was an outrageous affront.

“So what if I insult you? What if I thrash you?” Zhang Chengxing swung his hand to slap Obaba.

Yu Lang caught his wrist. “If you want to hit him, you’ll have to deal with me first.”

Zhang Chengxing, having heard of Yu Lang’s feat—crippling a Seafaring Realm opponent with a single stroke—wasn’t eager to provoke him. “Yu Lang, I don’t wish to quarrel with you, but believe me, if you lay a hand on me today, you’ll find no place for yourself in the entire Moonwashing Academy!”

Dai Yang quietly urged Yu Lang, “Don’t make trouble. Zhang Chengxing’s father is the Governor of Daizhou, the Commander of Hedong, and a trusted general under King Yunhui Wang Zhongsi. Even his name was given by Wang Zhongsi himself. Offending him will bring endless troubles…”

Personal prowess means little against armies—otherwise, the Sword Saint of the Tang, Pei Wen, would be emperor instead of Li Longji. Even some cultivators of the Void-Shattering Realm who joined the army died on the battlefield before they could win glory. War is not the dueling ground; anything can happen there.

Obaba spoke up, breaking the deadlock.

“No need for Yu Lang to stand up for me. I, Obaba, challenge you. Do you dare accept?”

“Normally, a lowly servant like you isn’t fit to challenge me. Today, I’ll give you this chance, so you’ll know: men are men, beasts are beasts, and you must understand your station!”

Yu Lang was about to intervene, but Obaba shot him a determined look. After all, Obaba was a grown man—perhaps he wished to defend his own dignity with his own strength.

Obaba was naturally strong, and having received some pointers from Du Fu lately, he might not be inferior to Zhang Chengxing, who was at the Hundred-Refinements Realm.

A group of them left the Self-Reflection Hall and headed to the Hall of Debate in the Combat Training Area.

The Hall of Debate was where students tested their martial skills, with senior students on duty to ensure matches stayed within bounds.

Zhang Chengxing rolled his wrists. “If I win, you’ll crawl on all fours whenever you see me, like the animal you are.”

“Agreed,” Obaba replied without hesitation. “If I win…” He scratched his head, unable to think of a fitting demand.

Yu Lang stepped in. “If Obaba wins, from now on, whenever you see him, you must respectfully call him Brother Oba.”

Half an hour later, with a swollen face, Zhang Chengxing hung his head and muttered, “Brother Oba,” before slinking away in humiliation.

Zhang Chengxing was straightforward by nature—he spoke his mind and, having lost, accepted his defeat. Years in the army had taught him that might made right. Having been bested by Obaba, much of his contempt faded.

Obaba then remembered his errand. “Yu Lang, Du Fu invites you to dine at his house.”

Yu Lang was surprised. “Did he say what for?”

What business requires Obaba to fetch me in person, instead of simply sending word?

“He didn’t say, only that it’s important and you must come.”

What must come, will come.