Chapter 367: Little Junior Brother
When Bai Zisheng and Bai Zixi returned home, they immediately told Aunt Xue that Mister Zhuang had agreed to formally take them as disciples.
Aunt Xue was overjoyed.
After all the effort she’d spent helping the siblings seek out Mister Zhuang’s tutelage—enduring much hardship along the way—this outcome was finally a relief. She could now face the Madam of the house with pride.
But once the excitement faded, doubt crept into her heart.
“Why did Mister Zhuang suddenly change his mind? He refused before—what made him accept now?”
Bai Zisheng scratched his head. He hadn’t thought about that. Truth be told, he could never guess Mister Zhuang’s intentions anyway.
Bai Zixi, however, seemed thoughtful.
“Maybe… because of Mo Hua?”
Aunt Xue was taken aback. “Because of Mo Hua? Why?”
“Because the teacher values him,” Bai Zixi said calmly.
“Values him?”
Aunt Xue didn’t quite follow.
Mo Hua’s talent with formations was good, and the boy was certainly likeable—but to say Mister Zhuang valued him that much? That seemed unlikely.
After all, a cultivator’s spiritual root and physical constitution were just as important—and Mo Hua’s were, frankly… rather unremarkable.
That was the polite way of putting it.
Within the Bai family, high-grade spiritual roots were common. Even a middle- or low-grade root was barely passable for a side-branch member.
Yet Bai Zixi nodded. “He values him a lot.”
Aunt Xue frowned slightly. “Because of formations? I suppose Mo Hua is quite skilled at them…”
“Not ‘quite skilled,’” Bai Zixi interrupted, shaking her head. “He’s extremely skilled.”
Aunt Xue blinked. “Extremely skilled?”
That was the first time she’d ever heard such strong praise from Bai Zixi’s mouth.
The girl almost never praised anyone. She was gifted, perceptive, disciplined—a peerless seedling of the Dao, radiant as jade and flawless in bearing.
Among the Bai clan’s younger generation, no one could rival her in cultivation or formation mastery.
Even the other Bai disciples—male or female—often felt humbled before her, barely daring to speak up in her presence.
She was cool and aloof, with few friends and fewer compliments for others. No one had ever been worth praising.
Yet now, she was praising Mo Hua’s formations as “extremely good.”
Aunt Xue realized she might have underestimated something, though she still asked uncertainly, “Is he really that good?”
Bai Zisheng jumped in, “Aunt Xue, you know that formation that killed the Great Demon?”
Aunt Xue nodded. “Wasn’t that Mister Zhuang’s work?”
Bai Zisheng shook his head. “It was Mo Hua’s.”
Aunt Xue’s eyes widened. “Impossible! He’s just a child!”
Being from the Bai clan, she hadn’t paid much attention to a minor city like Tōngxiān.
She hadn’t even realized the city had gone through such upheaval—demons appearing, calamities descending.
A Great Demon manifesting was no small matter. That kind of event never happened without some hidden hand behind it. Without Mister Zhuang, she would have long taken the siblings and left.
No ordinary cultivators could hope to slay a Great Demon.
And yet, the unbelievable had happened: Tōngxiān City built a grand formation, then broke it apart, slew the demon, and even drew down heavenly tribulation lightning.
Scenes like that, she had never witnessed in her entire life.
But with Mister Zhuang around, she hadn’t thought much of it—it was only natural. Surely all of that had been his doing.
When Mo Hua was struck by tribulation lightning, Aunt Xue had worried at first, but later reasoned that since it was under Mister Zhuang’s plan, Mo Hua would be fine.
She assumed Mister Zhuang had simply used Mo Hua as a stand-in to act in his stead.
After all, Mo Hua was his disciple, a native of the city, and talented in formations—perfect for the task.
But now… it seemed she’d been wrong from the start.
This wasn’t just “proficiency” in formations.
A formation of the First Grade—such mastery already put one among the realm’s formation masters. And Mo Hua was barely thirteen!
Aunt Xue couldn’t help but sigh.
“No wonder Mister Zhuang values him so much.”
But Bai Zixi’s gaze flickered.
She sensed that Mister Zhuang’s care for Mo Hua wasn’t only about formations.
Both she and her brother had noticed that Mister Zhuang treated Mo Hua differently—gentler, more indulgently.
At first, she hadn’t understood why.
But as Mo Hua’s progress accelerated and his formation talent became terrifyingly evident…
She had started out able to teach him a thing or two. Then they exchanged insights as equals. But before long, Mo Hua’s formation drawings and his Divine-Sense techniques became things she couldn’t even comprehend.
Bai Zixi had read countless scrolls from the Bai family archives—there wasn’t much she hadn’t at least heard of.
Yet Mo Hua’s methods? She had never even seen them mentioned.
Those intricate paths were clearly Mister Zhuang’s secret teachings—extremely precious inheritances.
And though Mister Zhuang’s demeanor toward the three seemed fair, it was obvious he favored Mo Hua.
Mo Hua could enter the bamboo house whenever he wished, like it was his own home.
Even if Mister Zhuang wasn’t around, he could sit by the door reading—or go to the pond to fish.
Both Mister Zhuang and Old Kui treated him with a leniency that bordered on indulgence.
Her mother had told her stories about Mister Zhuang’s past.
He was a proud, brilliant man—never one for gentle patience.
Yet now he was this kind, even indulgent—and all for a mere registered disciple.
Aunt Xue finally understood what her daughter meant.
Mister Zhuang hadn’t changed his mind without reason.
It must have been something Mo Hua said, did, or simply something Mister Zhuang foresaw about him.
That was why he agreed to take them as disciples—first as registered ones, and now as personal disciples.
Aunt Xue sighed softly.
To think that their Bai family actually owed so much to that boy.
Without Mo Hua, they might never have met Mister Zhuang, much less become his disciples.
She turned to the siblings and said warmly:
“You two will now be fellow disciples with him. Since you’re of the same sect, you must take care of Mo Hua.”
Bai Zisheng thumped his chest confidently. “Don’t worry, Aunt Xue! I’ll look after him!”
Bai Zixi also nodded slightly, her eyes brightening.
…
A few days later, Mister Zhuang chose an auspicious day for the apprenticeship ceremony.
Why that day was auspicious, he didn’t say.
Mo Hua checked the almanac and couldn’t find anything special about it—probably just Mister Zhuang’s mood.
The ceremony itself was simple: light incense, bow to the heavens, offer tea, and perform the disciple’s salute.
The incense was offered to Heaven.
According to Mister Zhuang, formation masters seek to understand the Heavenly Dao—thus they bow only to Heaven, not to gods or men.
The three children each lit incense and bowed three times to the sky, completing the rite.
Then they offered tea to Mister Zhuang in turn, after which they could finally call him “Master.”
Registered disciples called him “Mister.” Only personal disciples could call him “Master.”
Bai Zisheng and Bai Zixi bowed and said, “Master.”
Mister Zhuang nodded slightly.
Mo Hua beamed and followed suit, “Master!”
Again, Mister Zhuang nodded, though there was a flicker of emotion behind his calm eyes.
After the bows and tea, the three were officially fellow disciples.
Naturally, that meant it was time to settle seniority.
And so began a spirited debate.
“I’m the oldest, so I should be Senior Brother!” Bai Zisheng declared righteously.
“I entered first, so I’m the Senior Brother!” Mo Hua countered.
Bai Zixi, calm but firm, said simply, “I want to be Senior Sister.”
“I’m still Senior Brother!”
“You’re Junior Brother—I’m Senior Brother!”
“I’m Senior Sister!”
…
No one would concede, until three pairs of bright eyes turned toward Mister Zhuang for judgment.
He blinked, thought for a moment, then said to Mo Hua,
“You’re the youngest—take the smallest seat. Be the Little Junior Brother.”
Mo Hua sighed in defeat but nodded obediently. “Alright, Mister—”
Mister Zhuang chuckled. “Still calling me ‘Mister’?”
Mo Hua grinned. “Master!”
Mister Zhuang smiled, eyes filled with quiet warmth.
And so, beneath the old locust tree, the three former registered disciples were formally taken under Mister Zhuang’s wing as personal disciples.
A pair of gifted siblings from a noble family—radiant as dragons and phoenixes.
And one boy of humble birth, poor roots, and modest looks—now their “Little Junior Brother.”
(End of Chapter)