[ZHUILING] More Than Enough

Chapter 5

"Have you finished the fourth copy yet?" Sizhui asked.

Jin Ling and him had been copying the GusuLan rules for a week already, and the blood instigating within their minds was about to explode. "Almost." Jin Ling pressed, unsteadily writing messy words that even Sizhui couldn't read clearly. "You do realize that Lan Qiren would discern the papers himself, right?" Sizhui asked.

"So what?" Jin Ling scowled, beads of sweat forming at his forehead.

"If you can't write them properly, Lan Qiren will add more copies." Sizhui explained.

Jin Ling had frozen in his tracks. In fact, the younger cultivator seemed like a nerve was hit, and a flashback was occurring within his brain. "Jin Ling? Did you write the other copies neatly?"

"That I did. But... the fourth copy." Jin Ling gulped.

A droplet of his sweat splattered onto his page. Scowling, Jin Ling continued writing at a faster pace. His arm was about to give in—snap in half, almost. But every time he glanced over at Sizhui, motivation would pour into his arms, with energy forming from thin air. "It's fine." Sizhui smiled. "I'm on my fifth copy, so you could borrow my fourth one."

"Borrow?" Jin Ling frowned. "No way! Which GusuLan disciple helps other cheat?"

Sizhui giggled with uncertainty. "None of them?"

"Exactly!" Jin Ling exclaimed. "So why in the world are you suggesting this to me? Do you need anything from me? Do you have a grudge? Just because I'm young as a future sect leader doesn't mean you can look down at me!"

Rash words flooded out of Jin Ling's mouth, and before he knew it, he stopped writing and only babbled nonsense.

"No! That's not it!" Sizhui laughed.

That majestical sound tingled Jin Ling's ears as he heard it, squeezing his heart in unbearable directions. His heart pounded, similar to a gorilla hooting while pouncing their fists against their hairy chests. Blood flowed into his brain, with heat burning his ears. "Then what is it!" He menaced.

"I just want to help out a friend." Sizhui smiled.

Blush had burned at Jin Ling's cheeks as his arm stammered along with his shaking mid-air legs. "A friend? We're not friends! We're arched nemesis'!"

"Arched nemesis'?" Sizhui was puzzled.

"Exactly!" Jin Ling pointed his brush—which was soaked in soiled ink—towards Sizhui, throwing him an intimidating glare. "So don't think of me as a weakling! I'm your rival! Got it?"

Sizhui melted under the Young Mistress' gaze. Jin Ling had so much passion, Sizhui was afraid to destroy it in one flick. "O-of course." Sizhui weakly smiled. Although it was the truth, he was afraid to admit how much strength he was holding back just to equalize his speed with Jin Ling's. He have trained hard every night to gain enormous strength in his arms, so the given punishment was nothing to him. But when he saw how whole-heartedly Jin Ling had struggled, a space of empathy had formed in his heart and he slowed down his progress.

"Jin Ling," Sizhui began. "What makes you think we're rivals?"

Jin Ling hurriedly began writing once again, sweat polishing his skin intensively. "Isn't it obvious? Everyone always thinks you're better than me—and I'm a future sect leader! What in the world is wrong with their minds? I am superior, you are inferior. My uncle have trained me so much, only for me to get beaten by some petty cultivator. Which is why we're rivals or arched nemesis'. But..."