Chapter Four: My Brother Can't Possibly Be This Handsome

“Zhiruo, hand the Heaven-Relying Sword to this young man.”

Upon hearing these words, Zhou Zhiruo’s tear-streaked face turned as pale as paper. She was just a woman; no matter how skilled she was, she was no match for the young man standing in front of her, who was about her age. The Dragon-Slaying Saber was coveted by all the martial artists in the world, but the Heaven-Relying Sword was no less so. Even her master had paid a price for this sword—how could she have any other choice?

Should she defend her master’s honor and refuse to hand over the sword? If she did, she suspected that Emei’s destruction would not be far off. Facing an unknown opponent was terrifying; Zhou Zhiruo knew this all too well.

“Senior Sister… just give it to him,” whispered a fellow Emei disciple nearby, watching Zhiruo clutch the sword tightly, fear in her eyes as if she truly dreaded Zhiruo might do something irreparable in a moment of anger. If that happened, perhaps all the Emei disciples would be buried with her.

A master was to be respected, but now that she was dead, survival naturally became their foremost concern.

Resignation filled Zhou Zhiruo’s eyes, and her hands, still gripping the sword, started to tremble.

“If I give you the Heaven-Relying Sword, will you spare Emei?”

Her voice was frail and trembling, yet it echoed throughout the silent great hall. Song Yuanqiao glanced at Yang Wenhao. Though he had asked Zhiruo to hand over the sword, he would not stand by if Yang Wenhao tried to destroy Emei. After all, they were all righteous sects; he understood well the principle of mutual dependence.

“All I want is the Heaven-Relying Sword,” Yang Wenhao replied, his expression calm. His task was almost complete; only the sword remained.

At his words, the Emei disciples exhaled in relief, as though they had just survived a calamity.

Receiving Yang Wenhao’s answer, Zhou Zhiruo slowly stood and, with trembling hands, presented the sword before him. Yang Wenhao reached out and, without hesitation, took the Heaven-Relying Sword from her grasp. With it in hand, his final objective was complete.

But at that very moment, he heard the system’s voice in his ear:

[Time’s up. Commencing return.]

Before the eyes of the gathered martial sects—who had watched everything unfold—a living, breathing man simply vanished into thin air. Astonishment filled their eyes, but soon after, the entire world turned gray, as if everything and everyone was frozen in time.

…

“Phew… finally back,” Yang Wenhao exhaled deeply, a look of relief on his face. A stranger in a strange land, he thought, no matter what, his original world was better—even after spending two years in the world of Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber.

“I wonder if I should call myself sixteen or eighteen now.”

He shook his head. He had entered the world of Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber at sixteen, and now, having spent two years there, he was eighteen. Although his cultivation had kept him from changing much outwardly, anyone attentive enough would notice that the youthful naivety had faded from him, replaced by a more mature bearing.

“The beauty of immortal cultivation is right here,” he laughed. Such arts could grant one eternal youth and longevity. This would lay a solid foundation for his journey across myriad worlds in the future.

“System, display attribute panel.”

Host: Yang Wenhao
Realm: Qi Refinement, third stage
Cultivation Technique: Celestial Dao Immortal Law
Points: 1000
Items: Heaven-Relying Sword, alloy sword, 100 silver taels

“One thousand points—not a bad fortune.”

Yang Wenhao glanced around. He had been transported from home into the world of Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber, and now, upon his return, he was still at home. It seemed these two years had changed nothing.

System prompt: When the host traverses worlds, time is frozen in all worlds except the host’s current one.

The sudden system notification startled him, but he quickly understood its meaning.

“So that’s how it is—no need to worry about time anymore.”

He had always feared that if he was away for decades, the world would have changed beyond recognition. Now, it seemed everything was just fine.

System prompt: Next traversal in one month. Please prepare accordingly.

“Alright, I understand,” Yang Wenhao nodded.

Just as he was about to make himself something to eat, the living room door swung open and a lively young girl appeared in the doorway.

“Brother… you…”

Her hair was tied in a simple ponytail, held by a silver crescent-shaped pin. Her glossy, jet-black bangs framed her delicate, youthful face, and her beautiful eyes sparkled like precious gems—an enchanting gift from the heavens. Dressed in a school uniform, Yang Ying stood in the doorway, surprise shining in her gaze as she looked at Yang Wenhao.

“What’s wrong, Ying?” Yang Wenhao asked, puzzled. Since time was supposed to be frozen, he expected there’d be no difference when he returned. Why was Ying so surprised?

“Brother… when did you start cosplaying?”

She took off her shoes, closed the door, and walked into the living room.

At her words, Yang Wenhao was instantly embarrassed. Only then did he realize he’d spent two years in the world of Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber, dressed in ancient robes. Now, back at home, he was still in those clothes.

Yang Ying circled around him, scrutinizing every detail as if afraid she might miss something.

“Wow, I have to say, you really suit these clothes,” she nodded approvingly, “though they do look a bit dirty. Didn’t you wash them before wearing them?”

“Wash them…” Yang Wenhao’s mouth twitched. He had just escaped from the Demon Sect’s secret passage, killed a man, and managed to make it out in one piece—how could he have had time to wash his clothes?

Yang Ying pointed at his outfit. “Alright, I’m going to make dinner. You should go change. Isn’t it weird to wear that at home?”

Once she left, Yang Wenhao went to his room for fresh clothes, then headed to the bathroom for a shower.

He had to admit—nothing relieved fatigue quite like a hot bath. The burdens he carried seemed to wash away with the water, disappearing down the drain.

“Phew…”

In the bathroom, staring at his own reflection—his now remarkably fit body—Yang Wenhao felt a bit unreal. He’d always been frail before, never dreamed of having eight-pack abs. Even the simplest tasks used to tire him out, but now, he felt as if he had boundless strength, aching for somewhere to be unleashed.

After his shower, dressed in clean clothes, he happened to meet Yang Ying as she brought dishes from the kitchen.

The moment she saw him, she froze.

“What is it, my little sister?” Yang Wenhao smiled. “Have I bewitched you?”

“My brother couldn’t possibly be this handsome. It’s fake, fake—it must be fake.”