When the Cannon Fodder Male Supporting Role Picks Up the Script - Chapter 141

A slender figure stood before the only candlelit window on the third floor.

As if silently urging him, the Heart Demon raised his hand. A wisp of black mist drifted toward Yun Shaowei, landing on him under his curious gaze before spreading out to envelop him completely.

Yun Shaowei froze for a moment, startled and instinctively afraid—then realized he could move again.

Relieved and overjoyed, he stretched his numb limbs and looked gratefully at the Heart Demon.

The latter merely waved him along, turned, and walked toward the main entrance.

Understanding his intent, Yun Shaowei glanced once more at Yun Zhuoran’s shadow on the third floor before following quickly, a rare trace of embarrassment on his usually composed face.

Of course, he knew the Little Island Master wasn’t Yun Zhuoran, nor had he mistaken him for someone else. His outburst earlier had been purely instinctive—because the Little Island Master’s disheveled, suggestive appearance had genuinely startled him. And since the relationship between Yun Zhuoran and the Little Island Master was what it was, there was no question what they had been doing.

Unexpectedly, it had been the Little Island Master—looking like that—who had noticed something wrong and came to his rescue. 

Yun Shaowei felt that even glancing at him in such a state was a crime against Yun Zhuoran, hence his loud apology.

Still, among those who had heard him, likely only Yun Shaowei himself felt embarrassed by the thought. The Heart Demon clearly didn’t care, saying nothing as they walked. 

Only when they reached the main doors did he suddenly laugh. “It’s that Shen guy again. I could smell his stench from a mile away. He’s really persistent.”

He walked quickly, forcing Yun Shaowei to jog to keep up. 

Rubbing his neck—where bruises still lingered—Yun Shaowei turned to him in surprise. “The Little Island Master already knew it was Shen Lingxu?”

“He was lucky to run fast this time.” The Heart Demon glanced at him. “Remember—don’t tell brother he was here.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like it.”

With that, the Heart Demon stepped over the threshold, his face—so like Yun Zhuoran’s—radiating both beauty and an icy chill.

Before Yun Shaowei could respond, the Heart Demon continued in a soft, almost casual tone, “Next time you see him, call out to him immediately. Don’t let him get close.” He paused, looking back with meaning. “That kind of man likes people who look like you and Ji Ruo.”

Yun Shaowei didn’t understand at all. 

The Heart Demon offered no further explanation and went upstairs.

Yun Shaowei rubbed his sore neck absentmindedly, accidentally pressing on a swollen handprint, and hissed in pain. Though he didn’t fully grasp the meaning, he took the warning to heart—and from then on, he began to suspect that Shen Lingxu might also target Ji Ruo.

That wouldn’t do!

Thinking of his rather gullible cousin, Yun Shaowei ignored his aching neck and hurried back to his room.

The building had many rooms, but only Yun Zhuoran and his companion lived on the third floor.

When the Heart Demon returned there and pushed open the door, he saw Yun Zhuoran standing by the window.

The window had been opened again at some point, and a few snowflakes drifted into the room on the cold evening breeze. The Heart Demon shut the door behind him and ran over with a smile.

“Brother.”

Yun Zhuoran looked back briefly, then turned again toward the window, gazing out at the snow swirling beneath the night sky.

When the Heart Demon came back upstairs later, Yun Zhuoran’s expression had returned to normal—calm and unreadable, the earlier embarrassment gone. 

The Heart Demon sighed softly, disappointed. “Yun Shaowei was just wandering downstairs—it’s nothing.”

“Was he calling me earlier?” Yun Zhuoran asked. He had heard the shout, after all, and gone to the window again.

The Heart Demon pursed his lips, feigning nonchalance. “Maybe I startled him. He called me ‘Ninth Uncle’ the moment he saw me.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Forget him—he’s fine. Don’t worry, brother.”

Yun Zhuoran studied him for a long moment, suspicion flickering in his eyes, but finally nodded. “Alright. It’s getting late. You should sleep.”

The Heart Demon immediately tugged at Yun Zhuoran’s sleeve, eyes bright as stars. “Brother, sleep with me.”

He was being coquettish again.

Yun Zhuoran sighed. He couldn’t bring himself to refuse. 

Watching the Heart Demon hurry to close the window, his helplessness melted into quiet acceptance.

Sleep.

After all, there was nothing else to do tonight.

But that night, Kunwu Sword Sect was far from peaceful.

As dawn broke, three infiltrators from the Wu Clan were discovered on the mountain. Two escaped like eels, but the last detonated his own Nascent Soul, dying in a blaze that injured many disciples. All three were Nascent Soul cultivators—a clear sign that the Wu Clan was willing to sacrifice their elite, perhaps even their entire strength, to rescue the captured child.

Yet the Wu Clan still hadn’t responded to Wen Jianxian’s earlier proposal to exchange the captured outsiders for the child.

Li Jianming comforted several injured disciples and elders before hurrying to report to his master—only to find that Wen Jianxian remained in seclusion, treating his own wounds.

Li Jianming had guessed his master’s injuries were serious, but not this severe. The dream-inducing miasma that had trapped everyone should never have been enough to harm someone at Wen Jianxian’s Great Ascension level. But in order to bring Pei Heng, the two other sect leaders, and the Wu Clan child out safely, he had delayed too long and allowed the poison to take root. Only his disciples knew the true extent of his condition.

By morning, the two rescued sect leaders—from Tianji Sect and Mingyue Valley—had awakened. Their injuries were far worse than Wen Jianxian’s, having been imprisoned and tormented by the Wu Clan. 

As Wen Jianxian’s eldest disciple, Pei Heng was busy tending to them, though clearly struggling with his own emotions.

Among Wen Jianxian’s disciples, only the eldest and youngest were currently on the mountain; the rest were still away training. 

That left most of the work to Li Jianming, much to his dismay.

Now that he had finished his errands, Li Jianming decided to visit the back hall where his adoptive father, Xu Zhichun, had been watching over the Wu Clan child all night.

To his disappointment, the child was still unconscious. Having no goodwill toward the Wu Clan after everything, Li Jianming spoke briefly with Xu Zhichun before leaving, planning to find Yun Zhuoran and slack off a little.

Xu Zhichun walked him to the door.

After a full night of expelling poison from the child’s body, Xu Zhichun—newly advanced to Nascent Soul—looked drained, his face pale under the snowlight filtering through the open doors.

“Father, you should rest,” Li Jianming said. “There are plenty of elders on guard outside. Those Wu Clan people can’t get in. That child won’t escape.”

At that, Xu Zhichun instinctively glanced at the snowfield beyond the hall.

Li Jianming chuckled. “Those elders are all Nascent Soul cultivators. They’re concealing their presence—of course we can’t see them. Don’t worry, Father, the traps are set. Anyone who comes to rescue him won’t get far. If they dare show up again, I’ll make sure they’re captured. Let’s see if the Wu Clan still refuses to negotiate using that child as an exchange.”

Xu Zhichun said, “Is that so?”

Li Jianming replied smugly, “Don’t worry, Godfather. Several Wu Clan members were captured last night. Considering how much they value that child, they won’t hold out for long—they’ll agree to an exchange sooner or later.”

Xu Zhichun was slightly taken aback. “Last night…”

“They were discovered as soon as they reached the outer gate. A pity some slipped away,” Li Jianming muttered. Seeing dawn approach, he picked up his sword and stepped into the snow, waving back at Xu Zhichun. “Go inside, Godfather. It’s cold out here. Get some rest—I’ll come back later to escort you down the mountain.”

Only then did Xu Zhichun come back to himself. Watching Li Jianming nearly trip over a stone mid-sentence, his brows knitted in distress. “Alright, but watch your step! You’re a grown man—why are you still so—”

“I know, Godfather!”

Li Jianming laughed, waved dismissively, and dashed off with his sword. 

Xu Zhichun sighed helplessly. “This child…”

When Li Jianming’s figure finally disappeared, Xu Zhichun turned away and wandered back into the hall. 

Just then, a sudden rustle sounded inside. His eyes brightened immediately, and he hurried toward the bedside.

Sure enough, the Wu Clan child lying there had opened a pair of pure, black eyes, timidly clutching the blanket and curling up defensively.

Startled by the approaching footsteps, the child had tensed—yet once he saw Xu Zhichun, he relaxed at once. 

His soft voice held unhidden joy. “Sha—”

“Don’t speak,” Xu Zhichun said sternly.

The child blinked, then obediently closed his mouth, still watching him with trusting eyes.

Xu Zhichun poured out a pill, his brows drawn slightly together. His gentle, handsome features carried a shade of melancholy that stirred pity—perhaps due to his harmless appearance and clear, bright gaze.

The youngest son of the Wu Clan chief, seeing him holding the pill without moving, whispered, “Cold.”

Xu Zhichun’s fingertips trembled faintly as his expression softened. He brought the pill to the child’s lips. “Little Xu, be good. You won’t feel cold after taking this. Sleep for a bit—your brother will take you back to the Wu Clan after you wake.”

The little boy called Little Xu swallowed the pill without hesitation. Then he asked happily, “Where is this? I want to go home. It’s cold here.”

Hearing his soft, awkward complaint, Xu Zhichun’s expression grew even gentler.

“Sleep well. When you wake again, you’ll be back in Wucheng.”

“Okay…” Little Xu whispered. 

He meant to say something more, but his heavy eyelids drooped, a yawn slipped out, and he soon drifted back into sleep.

As Xiao Xu’s breathing steadied, Xu Zhichun’s expression gradually cooled.

By noon, the wind and snow had briefly stopped.

After escorting Xu Zhichun down the mountain, Li Jianming ran back to the small building where Yun Zhuoran was staying. This time he wasn’t shut out—earlier that morning, the doors and windows had been tightly closed, and he hadn’t dared disturb them. 

Now that everyone was awake, he eagerly recounted—with great pride—last night’s Wu Clan infiltration and how bravely everyone had fought.

But no one responded to his unspoken plea for praise.

Only Yun Zhuoran asked, “There were Wu Clan members on the mountain last night?”

Li Jianming puffed up. “Yes. We drove them away!”

That was the line he wanted recognition for. He looked at Yun Zhuoran expectantly.

But Yun Zhuoran didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he glanced at the Heart Demon and Yun Shaowei across from him. 

Yun Shaowei still had a faint mark on his neck; Ji Ruo had already interrogated him at length about what happened downstairs.

Yun Shaowei sensed Yun Zhuoran’s gaze. Then he noticed the Heart Demon giving him a cold, warning glance—clearly telling him not to mention Shen Lingxu. 

Lowering his eyes, Yun Shaowei fabricated calmly: “I did encounter someone suspicious last night, but he ran the moment the Little Island Master showed up.”

“Oh,” the Heart Demon agreed smoothly, expression serious. “Probably a Wu Clan stray who wandered into the wrong place. I didn’t see anything when I went downstairs, and since no one was hurt, I didn’t think much of it.”

Yun Shaowei smiled stiffly and kept quiet.

When Li Jianming heard they had also run into the Wu Clan, he exclaimed, “You ran into them too? Why didn’t you call us?”

Under Yun Zhuoran’s gaze, Yun Shaowei faltered. Torn between honesty and the Heart Demon’s warning, he forced himself to continue the lie, lowering his head in guilt. “He ran too fast. I couldn’t catch him… and I didn’t want to disturb Ninth Uncle’s rest.”

Yun Zhuoran said, “If you encounter danger again, don’t overthink it. Call for me.” His tone was serious but sincere. 

Yun Shaowei froze. Yun Zhuoran’s face remained indifferent, yet the warmth in his words struck Yun Shaowei deeply. Shame welled up in him.

“I understand.”

The meaning was clear: if Yun Shaowei called for help, Yun Zhuoran said would definitely protect him. But Yun Shaowei had lied. He felt wretched.

Fortunately, Yun Zhuoran didn’t press the matter. Instead, he asked Li Jianming, “So only one Wu Clan member was caught, and the others escaped?”

Li Jianming’s expression tightened. “Hey—catching even one was hard enough! Those Wu Clan are slippery!”

“Alright.” Yun Zhuoran dismissed it—there was nothing more to say.

With nothing urgent left to handle, Lu Yu pulled Weiran to play chess, and Yun Zhuoran sat beside them to watch. Yun Shaowei meditated quietly in a corner until sunset. 

Li Jianming refused to leave, hanging around the building and bickering nonstop with Ji Ruo. Though he was thoroughly annoyed by him, pride prevented him from backing down, so they argued endlessly.

Amidst the commotion, Yun Zhuoran watched the Heart Demon and Lu Yu play three rounds of chess.

The Heart Demon was a novice. 

Lu Yu was… also a novice—but an even worse one.

After half a day of observing, Yun Zhuoran concluded that Lu Yu’s ability was abysmal. Every time he lost, he pursed his lips, sulked, then forced the Heart Demon into another round.

If he hadn’t been enjoying the rare sight of Yun Zhuoran watching him so intently in front of others, the Heart Demon would’ve thrown the chessboard and fled long ago.

The setting sun cast a warm glow across the snowy mountain, softening the cold world.

Li Jianming felt a headache coming on whenever he saw a Sword Sect disciple. He picked up his longsword and stepped outside. 

After exchanging a few words with the junior brother standing at the door, he suddenly exclaimed—“What did you say?!”

Everyone inside looked over.

Li Jianming’s face had gone completely pale, as if he had received a massive shock. 

Yun Zhuoran, who had known Li Jianming for many years, had never seen him so flustered. After a brief pause, he stood and walked to the door. “What happened?”

As the Lord of Penglai Island, his presence made the Sword Sect disciple immediately bow. The disciple then glanced anxiously at Li Jianming, unsure if he should be the one to report the news.

Li Jianming reacted first. Clenching the crumpled sheet of paper in his trembling hand, he said hoarsely, “The people at Changchun Pavilion said my godfather is missing. They found this note in Changchun Pavilion…”

He looked completely lost. Without thinking, he shoved the note at Yun Zhuoran.

Yun Zhuoran accepted it. “…Master Changchun was taken away by the Wu Clan?”

On the surface, the note politely “invited” Master Changchun to visit Wu City, but considering the Wu Clan patriarch’s son was still detained in the Kunwu Sword Sect, it was obvious: the Wu Clan intended to exchange him.

But instead of exchanging the outsider they had previously captured, they had chosen Xu Zhichun.

Xu Zhichun was Li Jianming’s adoptive father. 

After seeing the note, Yun Zhuoran understood Li Jianming’s panic. He returned the slip to him and turned to the Sword Sect disciple. “When was Master Xu last seen? Where did he disappear?”

Li Jianming finally snapped out of his daze and stared anxiously at his junior brother, urging him to speak quickly.

The Sword Sect disciple replied, “The people at Changchun Pavilion said Master Xu never left after returning home. They only found the note around noon and then realized he was gone.”

Li Jianming said, “Changchun Pavilion was perfectly fine when I brought my godfather back… Why drag my godfather into the feud between the Sword Sect and the Wu Clan?”

Xu Zhichun’s relationship with the Sword Sect had been long-standing. The Wu Clan’s failed attempt to take him last night, followed by today’s sudden abduction, seemed reasonable—but something still felt off to Yun Zhuoran. Seeing Li Jianming so distraught, he held back the doubts he didn’t yet have evidence for.

“To take Master Xu away silently from Changchun Pavilion, these Wu Clan members clearly came prepared,” Yun Zhuoran said. “He went missing only recently. It may not be too late to pursue them.”

Li Jianming slapped his forehead. “Right! I forgot—Jialan City is already under strict lockdown by the Sword Sect. It’s easy for the Wu Clan to get in, but hard to get out… I’ll go find Master immediately!”

Realizing his adoptive father might still be in Jialan City, Li Jianming finally let out a shaky breath of relief. 

Just as he was about to rush out, he added anxiously, “But Master is still in seclusion healing his injuries… everyone else is tied up…”

Seeing how panicked Li Jianming was, Yun Zhuoran sighed. “I’ll go with you.”

The others had noticed the situation was urgent and followed them out. 

Weiran, hearing Yun Zhuoran’s words, immediately rushed over and clung to his arm—not to stop him, but to remind him earnestly: “Brother, I’m going too!”

Li Jianming looked at all of them gratefully, gripping his sword. “Then let’s go! Quickly!”

Yun Zhuoran didn’t hurry. He instructed Li Jianming to inform Pei Heng, the acting sect leader, first. Only after that did he follow Li Jianming down the mountain with Weiran and the others.

Lu Yu, having been invited by Penglai Immortal to assist Yun Zhuoran, naturally followed him. Ji Ruo, who had been freezing on the mountain, insisted on going down as well, so the entire group came along.

Upon entering Jialan City, Li Jianming headed straight to Changchun Pavilion. 

This was Yun Zhuoran and the others’ first time visiting. It was tall, unadorned, and ancient, built on the western side of the city, filled with the scent of herbs. Several Nascent Soul cultivators were stationed there—it was a place of considerable size and importance.

By now, nearly two hours had passed since Xu Zhichun’s disappearance. The fact that a Nascent Soul cultivator could be abducted from his own Changchun Pavilion—guarded by three Nascent Soul elders and several Golden Core disciples—without alerting anyone, was alarming to both the pavilion’s people and Yun Zhuoran.

No one knew whether Xu Zhichun was still in Jialan City or where he had been taken. 

The group began searching Changchun Pavilion for clues. Everyone there said the same thing: Xu Zhichun had acted normally from the moment he returned, then entered his room—but nothing inside the room suggested what had happened afterward.

Li Jianming was frantic—until he suddenly remembered Lu Yu’s ability to track people. While Lu Yu would gladly locate Wen Jianxian, he hesitated to help find Xu Zhichun, a stranger… at least until a seven-foot-tall Li Jianming stared at him with pitiful, desperate puppy eyes for an uncomfortably long time.

Lu Yu shuddered and capitulated.

Xu Zhichun had many belongings in his room, so the group moved there. 

Lu Yu took out a magical tool and activated it. The compass reacted immediately, but Lu Yu’s expression turned strange.

“Huh?”

Li Jianming asked nervously, “How is it? Did you find him?”

“It’s pointing to Changchun Pavilion… No, wait.” Lu Yu frowned, then corrected himself. “It also points toward your Sword Sect’s mountain.”

Li Jianming brightened at first. “Yes! Maybe the Wu Clan assumed the most dangerous place is the safest place—” But when he heard the second part, his smile froze. His expression turned serious. “Senior Lu, can you determine exactly where my godfather is?”

Lu Yu put away his compass. “This artifact only tracks within a thousand miles. If it’s pointing to two places at once, it may be that the Wu Clan deliberately created a decoy. They like using strange spells.”

Li Jianming stood there dumbfounded, clutching his sword. “Then… what should I do?”

Yun Zhuoran watched them quietly the whole time, then said again, “Let’s split up and search. First, check whether Master Xu is still inside Changchun Pavilion. Also, send a message to the Sword Sect and ask your senior brother for help.”

Li Jianming, as if grabbing onto a lifeline, immediately said, “Yes—yes, you’re right!”

Ji Ruo, who disliked crowds to begin with, had long been eager to separate from Yun Zhuoran and the others. Once “split up and search” was mentioned, she immediately dragged Yun Shaowei away. Yun Zhuoran didn’t pay attention to her and simply patted Yun Shaowei’s shoulder when the two reported back, leaving a wisp of Taiyin True Fire on him. The two cousins rarely separated—if anyone attacked them, the Taiyin True Fire would protect them.

Afterward, everyone in Changchun Pavilion began searching the building. Lu Yu couldn’t pinpoint a more exact location, only confirming that Xu Zhichun’s aura was somewhere inside Changchun Pavilion. Since there weren’t many hidden rooms, Li Jianming—who had grown up running between the Sword Sect and Changchun Pavilion—was familiar with every corner and led Yun Zhuoran and the others up and down the stairs.

By this time, Lu Yu was starting to take the matter seriously. He followed Li Jianming up to the top-floor attic, but upon opening the door, all they found was a scarecrow. The palm-sized straw figure stood quietly in the dim room, and a formation drawn in cinnabar circled the floor.

Lu Yu sneered. “As expected, it’s a fake. The Wu Clan are really cunning.”

Li Jianming’s disappointment was unmistakable. His expression darkened, and he strode toward the door. “Then the one on the mountain must be real. I’m going back to the Sword Sect.”

“That’s not necessarily true. Maybe they’re all fake.” Lu Yu, having already been fooled once today, didn’t dare assume the Wu Clan had truly hidden Xu Zhichun at the Sword Sect.

Would the Wu Clan be so kind as to kidnap Xu Zhichun and then deliver him back? 

Yun Zhuoran answered calmly, “If everything were fake, why would the Wu Clan go to so much trouble? They created a straw substitute for Master Xu precisely to obscure his tracks and get him out of the city unnoticed.”

Li Jianming looked conflicted. He grabbed his hair, took a deep breath, and headed toward the stairs. “I’ll go back to the Sword Sect first.”

“Let’s try once more,” Lu Yu said.

This time, he also seemed determined not to lose to the Wu Clan’s tricks. 

He summoned his compass and, as Li Jianming halted, told him, “Go back to your godfather’s room. Find something that carries his strongest aura.”

Li Jianming hesitated briefly. He had already sent word to his senior brother Pei Heng on the mountain to search, so one more attempt wouldn’t hurt. 

After thinking it over, he followed Lu Yu downstairs, heading toward Xu Zhichun’s residence.

Yun Zhuoran and the heart demon exchanged a look—both were speechless—and silently followed.

Xu Zhichun lived in the back courtyard, and they needed to descend several floors of the enclosed building. As they reached the back courtyard, Weiran suddenly stopped—something only Yun Zhuoran, walking behind him, noticed.

Yun Zhuoran turned and saw Weiran staring blankly toward the archway diagonally behind them. 

He walked over and followed his gaze. “What are you looking at?”

Weiran smiled. “Looks like Yun Shaowei and Ji Ruo came through here. Since Xu Zhichun isn’t in Changchun Pavilion, I’ll call them back.”

Yun Zhuoran raised an eyebrow. “Weiran, you’re going alone?”

Weiran quickly glanced around—then suddenly leaned in and kissed Yun Zhuoran on the corner of his mouth.

Yun Zhuoran froze. He hadn’t forgotten that Changchun Pavilion was always full of people.

But Weiran had already darted away, waving and laughing. “Brother, go find Lu Yu first! I’ll be back soon!”

Was that a diversion? Where was Weiran going? 

Yun Zhuoran watched his retreating figure but eventually turned and followed Lu Yu and the others. He wasn’t an unreasonable Dao companion—if the heart demon was deliberately distracting him, it meant he didn’t want Yun Zhuoran to know what he was doing. 

He would wait for him to return.

Almost no one knew that at that moment, another person was slipping quickly through the Changchun Pavilion.

It was Shen Lingshu.

The moment he saw the red-clad youth—whose face was almost identical to Yun Zhuoran’s—turn around, he knew he had been discovered. Without hesitation, he retreated, believing his reaction fast enough. 

But just as he was about to exit through the rear door of Changchun Pavilion, a layer of chilling black mist materialized in front of it.

Shen Lingshu’s expression changed slightly, and he halted instantly, sensing danger.

The mist condensed into a familiar red figure—the red-clothed youth he hated and envied stood before him, smiling with open mockery.

“You again? Spending every day spying on my brother—don’t you have anything better to do? Really… when did the only disciple of the former number one under the Heavenly Dao become a rat hiding in a gutter?”