"FEI. Silence. Stop acting like a child." Chóng Féng ordered coldly.
"No. You listen to me for once—instead of being a motherfucker." Chóng Fēi hissed, taking a step back.
Though his old anger was boiling over, there was a fear of being tortured again.
'I think.. I'm breaking that safe boundary again..'
But he couldn't help it. Nor did he have any way or will to lower himself in front of his father.
This curse—it was the highest, dirtiest curse he could ever think of saying to his father—the man he still sometimes wondered if he was even his real father, or if he was the son of Xiǎo Lìng's father, the man who had equally cared for him.
He couldn't believe a father could be so out of reach, so dry, that he wouldn't even come to look at him when he was almost dragged away by that ghost.
Today, he just couldn't take it anymore.
He said so—at least, he thought about fixing things. He had a few extra sentences that would break the meeting script.
"What did you just call me?" Chóng Féng hissed coldly. His steps were too fast toward him. His gaze didn't just look like usual—it looked like an actual dragon about to devour him.
Chóng Fēi felt frozen in place.
His fingers curled at his sides, ready to draw a scratch and bind his father before anything dangerous started. His heart spiked—because his father was still dangerous, even without being a proper cultivator.
Before he could say anything, he felt his tied hair roughly gripped by his father, pulling his head back, forcing him to meet his gaze.
His breath caught at the dull pain at his skull. He felt helpless against the iron grip of his father. Always.
"Say that again, brat." Chóng Féng muttered darkly. "Did I not punish you enough to teach you how to speak to your zhù fù? What did that damn caretaker even teach you when I was not there to keep an eye on you as an ordinary human can?"
Chóng Fēi swallowed hard, his eyes shutting. He didn't know what was coming next. He kept his mouth firmly shut, not even allowing a whimper to escape.
"Speak. I will take my leave to meet someone after lunch. I do not have forever for you." Chóng Féng tilted his head, his gaze tracking him carefully. "The faster you leave those words behind, the faster I will forgive you."
He paused, his voice turning faintly general. "And about those headless questions you have learned to ask with poetry. it is helplessness. You do not know how cruel the outside world is. I trued kept my world away from them within this darkness because I know what is happening here. That is it."
Chóng Fēi didn't know if he should believe it or not. It was hard to do both. His trembling hand only now reached to where Chóng Féng was gripping his hair. His mouth silently parted as he felt himself close to panicking.
Thankfully, today his father wasn't holding any needle to blackmail him. There was a chance for escape—since his father was in a hurry. Probably because of some pleasure house or something.
His father pressed his thumb over Chóng Fēi's grip on his hand. "I will ask you one last time. What did he do with you when I left?"
Chóng Fēi swallowed hard.
'I should just escape from this mess after saying the needle matter. The rest is unnecessary.'
"I do not think.. it would be better to tell him the unexpected personal moment between you two." Someone said—his imagination, or a daydream again.
It was none other than young Xiǎo Lìng.
He was smaller than him, being ten years old in the past. But still sounded strangely mature—as he always was.
It wasn't new with him either. This memory would come out of his thoughts whenever he was in a critical condition, needed someone's feedback, or just simply wanted to express himself without being that 'heir.'
He couldn't help but ask him back. Time felt like it stopped for a second.
'Why.. do you think that? Is my treatment.. anything to do with him?'
Xiǎo Lìng tiptoed softly around them—only he could see. His young posture thoughtful. "You noticed he was looking toward the door when you yelled too hard? Maybe he wanted to tell you that.. this thing should better be a secret, but since he got sick suddenly.. maybe he forgot to say."
Chóng Fēi thought about it a bit.
Yes. Lìngxiāo did look like he didn't want his father to know what treatment he was giving him. He didn't know why he had to hide from his own father, but just maybe.. it was to keep things cool, since his father was really hot-headed and might turn the situation more uncomfortable.
Besides, he couldn't find anything bad about the treatment. He felt better than before—even a little—and the dose wasn't even finished yet. His father's ritual had mostly worked on keeping him sane, or sometimes just told him to get used to it because this ghost wasn't leaving, and only outside energy could come into this town—but no town's people could go out.
So the force wasn't just blind love for the motherland; it was that they also couldn't leave this place at all. Exorcists managed to come in, but nobody returned from the temple or after two days of their rituals.
His father, on the other hand, didn't believe in exorcists because they had only grown the ghosts violent. This time, it was visibly violent too. He couldn't deny he also badly wanted this thing to be finished.
Perhaps if he found another unknown way of healing—which Chóng Fēi was also confused about, whether it was exorcist work or pure healing—his father would probably suspect unnecessary things and create chaos.
Understanding the depth of the whole matter, he found Xiǎo Lìng's words logical. He wouldn't do anything against Lìngxiāo until he sensed any real danger. For now, the problem was his father.
'I understand now..'
"Ow, you are still so brave like a hero!" Little Xiǎo Lìng cheered softly, smiling. "I believe in you!"
His compliment seemed to cool down the painful feeling inside him, bringing him back to sanity—even if it was just a pitiful imagination of a friend who could have had something better in life.
The word 'hero' still ached in him.
It made his eyes feel like they were about to spill over. He always wished to be a hero. Someone everyone could rely on—though there was nobody he could rely on either.
It felt like the prettiest curse most of the time.
But coming from Xiǎo Lìng—it felt like it carried the actual meaning.
'If you mean it.. I don't need anything else to think about.' He felt even his imaginary voice grow softer.
"You do mean to me like those toys you used to give me like tips. I feel like taking your blames of silly things on myself was.. actually worth it." Little Xiǎo Lìng answered gently.
'Don't say that. I was.. just a dumb child. Even now.'
"Do you really think of yourself this way? Or are you acting? The answer is the real you." Xiǎo Lìng softly said before disappearing again, leaving him with his decision.
Even those words—so oddly similar to Lìngxiāo's from earlier. He felt the same weight twice now.
This time he understood it better.
After a single faint breath that felt like forever, he finally answered in a polished way:
"He.. checked some basic wounds and removed those snake webs into my throat.. which.. the disciples weren't even able to do. Then he left me for resting. I slept.. then bathed. Then the rest you know.."