Chapter 32
He dashed to the left, dodging a slash of blue energy from a sword, then twisted his body to the right to block a three-pronged spear attack.
At the corner of his eye, he saw Huan Zheng—who just a second ago had been standing near a withered tree—now already sitting cross-legged atop a large rock, hands resting on his lap, eyes closed, and mouth slightly open as he yawned leisurely in the midst of twenty enemies ready to kill his companion.
"ZHAO WEI!" Ling Xu shouted, his voice half angry, half desperate, as he released thirty poisoned needles at once toward the nearest enemies.
"CAN YOU HELP?!"
Huan Zheng did not answer—he simply yawned again, then rolled slightly to the side to avoid a sliver of sunlight that suddenly shone into his eyes, like a lazy cat searching for the most comfortable place to sleep in the middle of a forest fire.
"You know, Liu Xin," he said in a lazy voice that remained clear despite the deafening battle around them.
"I think you can handle these twenty people on your own. They're only one level above you. Not that terrifying."
Ling Xu nearly spat at Huan Zheng's face from fifty meters away—but he didn't have the chance, as the next wave of attacks came from three directions at once, forcing him to roll across the ground soaked with blood and dust.
His once neat blue robe was now torn at both shoulders, revealing pale skin already bruised from the impacts.
Yet deep in his heart, beneath the burning frustration that smoldered like fire beneath ashes, Ling Xu knew—knew with absolute certainty—that Huan Zheng would never let him die.
Not because of the slave contract they once made in that dark, damp cave.
Not because of the poison still residing within that lazy man's body.
But because of something deeper, older, harder to put into words.
Trust, born from countless brushes with death they had faced together, from nights spent silently tending each other's wounds, from battles where Huan Zheng—despite all his laziness—always appeared at the most critical moment, precisely when Ling Xu's life truly hung by a thread.
"Lazy bastard," Ling Xu muttered inwardly as he deflected an attack from a cultivator trying to stab his chest from the side.
"But at least you're a reliable one."
And so he fought more fiercely, more freely, more boldly—because he knew that behind him sat a man on a rock with half-closed eyes, who would not move as long as Ling Xu could still stand, but who would turn the world into dust in an instant if Ling Xu fell.
His enemies, who had initially laughed at the sight of a lone girl facing twenty opponents, began to feel something was off—because every time they nearly managed to injure Ling Xu, something happened.
A small stone shot from an unknown direction and deflected their blades.
A tree root suddenly rose from the ground and made them stumble.
An unnatural gust of wind disrupted the flow of their Qi.
All of it was done by Huan Zheng without ever rising from his seat, without ever opening his eyes more than a thin slit, without ever moving his hands beyond subtle gestures no one would notice—except Ling Xu, who had long grown familiar with the lazy man's peculiar way of "helping."
And when the last cultivator among the twenty finally fell—not by Ling Xu's hand, but by a tree root that suddenly emerged from the ground and coiled around his neck until he suffocated, his eyes still wide open in disbelief—Ling Xu stood amidst a pile of corpses, breathing heavily.
His robe was torn in seventeen places, his white hair hidden beneath the hood beginning to show as the fabric nearly slipped off, and within his dim eyes, there was something he had never shown to anyone except the lazy man still sitting on the rock in the exact same posture as an hour ago.
"Twenty people, Zhao Wei," he said, his voice still annoyed, yet at the corner of his lips, a small smile began to form—a smile that only appeared when he knew he was not truly alone.
"And you didn't help at all."
Huan Zheng opened his eyes, looked at Ling Xu with his usual expressionless face, then replied in a lazy tone that made Ling Xu want to throw a rock at his head—despite knowing that without this man, he might have died ten times over just today.
"I helped," he said, yawning widely.
"I sent wind. Wind is important for Qi circulation. You know nothing about advanced battle strategies."
Ling Xu laughed—a genuine laugh, free and unrestrained, a laugh that made several mercenaries in the distance turn their heads because they had never heard such laughter on the battlefield of Fengdu—then walked toward Huan Zheng, sat beside him on the same rock, and let out a long breath like someone who had just run a thousand li.
In his heart, Ling Xu realized something he had never considered before.
That Huan Zheng's laziness was not a weakness, but a choice—a choice not to reveal his true strength unless absolutely necessary, a choice to remain at the same level as him even though he could ascend to far higher realms whenever he wished.
Because Ling Xu knew, even though Huan Zheng had never explained it in detail, that above the Star Foundation—consisting of Lower Star, Common Star, Singular Star, and Supernatural Star—there were still other realms whose names he had never heard, known only to cultivators who had surpassed the limits of Bright Sky, accessible only to beings like Huan Zheng, who remained one of the three Wheels of Cultivation.
And if Huan Zheng truly unleashed that power, if he stopped pretending to be lazy and revealed what he possessed, then those twenty Supernatural Star Level 33 cultivators might have died with just a glance, a breath, a blink—without wind, without tree roots, without the subtle "help" that annoyed Ling Xu yet always made him smile when he thought about it.
"Zhao Wei," Ling Xu called suddenly, his eyes gazing at the reddish-brown sky of Fengdu, where clouds drifted slowly like blood flowing through the veins of a giant.
"One day, you have to explain what lies beyond Supernatural Star."
Huan Zheng, lying on the rock with his hands as a pillow, merely rolled slightly to the side, then answered in a voice barely audible as he was already half asleep.
"One day, Liu Xin. But not today. Today, I want to sleep."
Ling Xu shook his head, smiling, then let the lazy man rest—because he knew that even though Huan Zheng seemed to do nothing, behind his closed eyes, behind his steady breathing, behind that infuriating yet endearing laziness, there was a vigilance that never faded, a readiness that never slept, a power he never used because he chose not to use it—just to ensure that Ling Xu could stand beside him, not behind him, as a companion, not a burden.
To be continued…