Volume One: The Wild Child Chapter Two: The Sun and Moon Idle Away

“Alright, I won’t compete with you any further.” With words clashing and no common ground, Kuisheng hurriedly took his leave, leaving Lin Changtian alone to brood.

“What’s the purpose of living?” Lin Changtian murmured. Surely it wasn’t just to lust after others’ bodies?

Centuries ago, the East Sea was vastly different. Across the water there lay a small island, and rumor had it that a woman called Sister Maiyi was the pursuit of many young men’s dreams.

Lin Changtian frowned. He couldn’t fathom what was so enticing about a woman’s body that so many ancients were captivated beyond return.

“It’s perverse, really—eating human flesh and all.” He curled his lip and remembered the fortune-teller’s words: he lived only to die.

Perhaps only when he became a handful of dust would he finally find release.

Alive, he was managed by others; dead, he’d be at the mercy of ghosts and gods. The world was really quite dull.

Immortals shunned the mundane, yet secretly envied the boundless romance. But the name of the commoner, among all living beings—whose son truly envies it? Whose daughter is glad to hear it?

The world’s romance flourishes, yet not a single bit is granted to him.

The human realm is dazzling, always idle and aimless. The air had grown cool; he gazed into the night, lost in thought, and walked back to his dormitory on his own.

...

As noon approached, only Lin Changtian remained in the dorm, staring blankly at the ceiling. He could gaze at an empty patch for an entire afternoon—his proudest skill and the reason everyone on campus knew him. Because of this, his record in the university hospital’s mental archives always hovered between “psychopath” and “simply a juvenile with delusions.”

Many people in this world wait for that moment when the carp leaps over the dragon gate. But in a modern, rigid world, such dreams demand extravagant luck. Yet lately, countless “absurd” phenomena have appeared, making the materialization of such dreams seem increasingly probable.

Some raise swords from the South Sea, striking waves ten yards high with sword winds chasing shadows, reality and illusion intertwined; some possess the strength of nine bulls, fighting off a hundred tech-equipped soldiers in a bustling city and escaping unscathed; some walk through stormy nights, thunder swirling about them, like immortals crossing tribulations. Such events, even in an age of advanced technology, remain shrouded in mystery—but those who dwell in mystery are often the most ignorant.

Students spent their days discussing these extraordinary figures. Amusingly, this sparked an unexpected fervor for “ancient studies.” Extremists donned splendid robes, always carrying swords—even if only the scabbard—claiming, “I carry a sword in my heart, always seeking the Way.” As for why only a scabbard? Don’t ask. The answer is “regulated blades—can’t bring them on the bus.”

No one stopped the madness, so it spiraled further, as if all twists awaited a day of simplicity, only to become even more convoluted.

Silken robes became the trend; for a time, the campus was lively and bustling.

Amidst the noise, one found it all tiresome: Lin Changtian, who could spend hours admiring the ceiling, grew utterly bored with these unprecedented scenes. Those who knew him were puzzled—considering his usual eccentricity, shouldn’t he be even more peculiar now? Why so gloomy? Didn’t this oddball fear dampening everyone’s mood?

Rumors spread—some said he was a discarded heir from a secluded family, others that he was a thousand-year-old demon in a stolen body. Eventually, campus suspicion grew so wild that Lin Changtian was dubbed “the eternal dark hand.”

Unbeknownst to the “dark hand” himself, he was slurping instant noodles, quietly glancing at the newspaper Kuisheng had handed over, then gazing out at the dense crowd beyond the door. His lips moved several times, but he still didn’t manage to swallow that half noodle.

What could he say? Tell everyone there were no real cultivators in the world, or that everyone was one?

That would ruin so many boys’ gentle dreams—at best, earning a scolding; at worst, ending up crippled.

If not for fear that the crowd outside would be enraged, today he’d have stood tall and proud.

Hmm, best add a marinated egg.

Seeing him silent, the crowd outside fell quiet, fixing their gaze on Lin Changtian until he felt uneasy. He resorted to his secret skill, fiercely staring at the ceiling. The crowd stared at him, he stared at the ceiling—the ceiling, feeling aggrieved, had no eyes to return their gaze.

After a long silence, Kuisheng suddenly seemed to have an epiphany and shouted, “I get it! He’s saying only by gazing at the sun and moon, by absorbing the essence of heaven and earth, can one awaken!”

The crowd murmured, their whispers dispersing around Lin Changtian like a gust of wind. In an instant, only Kuisheng and Lin Changtian remained, facing each other in the dormitory.

Kuisheng spoke in a shy tone: “Changtian, what exactly have you awakened? They’ve all left—just secretly tell me.” Lin Changtian said nothing, expressionless as he looked at Kuisheng. The stare made Kuisheng uneasy; he jumped up and scolded, “You rascal, pretending to be a master by staying silent? We’ve known each other so long, and you’d even hide it from me?”

“Actually, I’ve told you before.”

“Huh? When?” Kuisheng was stunned.

Lin Changtian replied solemnly, “I didn’t say it outright, but I sent it to you in a dream... Didn’t receive it? That’s possible—lately I’ve sent too many, maybe they’re jammed in transit.”

Kuisheng scratched his head, confused. “You can... send dreams?”

“Of course! You forgot I’m a... um, awakened cultivator? In our circle, sending dreams is routine. If you didn’t receive it, your aptitude’s too poor—you lack wisdom.”

As soon as he finished, Kuisheng knocked on his own skull. The sound was crisp, not hollow.

He eyed Lin Changtian warily. “I feel like you’re playing with our feelings.”

Lin Changtian’s eye twitched, and he gave Kuisheng a mysterious look. In that gaze, Kuisheng saw three parts solitude, three parts mystery, three parts lofty coldness, and the last trace of affection, deeply hidden—yet he felt he caught it.

So, to Lin Changtian’s surprise, Kuisheng grasped his hand, bringing the two together in apparent harmony.

“You speak, I listen!”

He sighed and said slowly, “Since you insist, I must tell you.”

Kuisheng grew excited. “Are you the one who raised a sword in the South Sea and nearly drowned, or the one who walked in the sky and almost got struck by lightning?”

Leaning close, Lin Changtian whispered in Kuisheng’s ear, “I am the chosen one. But I won’t tell you more—I have a great task ahead! First, I’ll buy a few ten-yuan scratch cards and try to win a five-yuan instant noodle bucket.”

With that, he left the dorm with hands behind his back, utterly solemn, as if about to forge his commercial empire.

Kuisheng was left alone, windblown and bewildered. He smiled helplessly—Changtian was as foolish as ever. With that money, why gamble for a five-yuan noodle bucket? If it were him, he’d buy another bottle, sell the extras at a discount, save up five yuan, then buy noodles—with enough left over for a sausage. That’s how you make a profit...

Lin Changtian wandered the school’s back hill, a gentle breeze brushing by as he pondered things unknown to others.

He’d watched videos of sword-wielding heroes from the South Sea, killers in bustling cities, and lightning-crossing immortals—all impressive, yet none stirred him even slightly.

He’d dreamed of countless mountain gates, all filled with martial wanderers. On the mountain, some practiced swordsmanship, swords ringing out for thirty thousand miles, light and shadow sweeping across the land, turning night into day; below, some trained their fists, force shaking mountains and rivers, strength shattering sun and moon, as if immortal outcasts knocking on heaven’s gate. Compared to this, those marvels of technological civilization seemed childish.

But Lin Changtian had seen such extraordinary sights since birth, for more than ten years.

A moment’s epic dream, yet none as profound as that bowl of instant noodles.

After all, dreams are ephemeral, but the bland taste of broth is real.

Hmm, Kang Shuai Fu really isn’t as good as Tong Yi.

Entering the woods, Changtian waved as usual. Misty starlight swirled among the trees, leaves fell with the flowers in a display of nature’s grandeur. But as Changtian approached, the starlight faded, revealing only a gust of wind.

That wind had once left heaven and earth covered in dust.

Since the day Lin Changtian’s “ceiling-gazing cultivation” theory spread from his dorm, the campus was swept by a trend of looking up at the ceiling. Students with cervical spondylosis proudly strode about, heads held high.

Among them, one clever student studied Changtian’s habits; discovering he liked to roam at night, he gathered several others to spend their nights hand-in-hand, gazing up at the moon across campus. Each gaze was steadfast, their eyes rolled white from prolonged staring, a testament to their resolve to seek the Way.

Once, as Lin Changtian passed by, he looked at the seven for a long time and finally said, “Gaze at the starry sky,” then shook his head and left.

The clever student grew excited, looking around and declaring, “Yes, the path of cultivation is gazing at the stars and forging ahead. Comrades, we must work diligently, following Senior Changtian’s guidance!” But the person beside him asked doubtfully, “He said to gaze at the starry sky, but isn’t that…”

“What is it?”

“A national dish from a certain country, I think.”