Chapter 132: The Bamboo Spirit

"Hey, hey, hey! I bought some watermelons! Everyone, come over here and give me a hand!"

Ji Wuli walked in from outside the dormitory building, carrying a large cloth sack, shouting for his roommates in 306 to come and help. We were originally in our room studying, but upon hearing his voice, we rushed out to meet him. Just by the way he was walking, we could tell he had bought quite a lot.

The atmosphere in the dorm had been dull and stifling, and with the sweltering heat, seeing those watermelons felt more comforting than seeing our own mothers. Each of us grabbed a big one and sprinted toward the third floor, where we immediately set about cracking them open.

Looking at the vibrant, crimson juice, I reminisced about the taste of watermelon from before I became a corpse demon—a wave of nostalgia washed over me. Although I had long since lost the ability to taste mortal food, I still held a deep fondness for watermelon.

Involuntarily, I picked up a slice and brought it to my lips. As I took a bite, I was shocked to actually taste its sweetness. My eyes widened in surprise, and I stood frozen at the desk, immobile for a long time, letting the watermelon juice drip down my chin like blood.

"What's wrong, Xiaodong?" Ji Wuli, noticing my sudden stupor, was startled. He hurriedly pressed his hands onto my shoulders and shook me hard, finally snapping me out of my daze.

"Oh, uh, I'm fine, I'm fine. Let's keep eating; we have to study after this!"

After saying that, I picked up another slice and took a few bites, then said to everyone with a look of intoxicated pleasure, "This feels great!"

After eating a few pieces, I immediately climbed onto my bed to continue "studying," leaving my buddies to finish the rest. Speaking of studying, I felt there was no real need for me to do it. Even Gao Wei, the worst student in our dorm, could easily secure his graduation certificate, let alone me—a corpse demon king with an incredibly powerful brain.

Looking at the required textbooks on my bed, I tossed them all into a box under the frame. After saying a few words to Er Peng and the others, I left the dorm, hands clasped behind my back, and headed toward a park near the academy.

Upon reaching the park, I made my way to a bamboo grove. It had been my favorite spot for the past four years, perfectly embodying the old saying: "Surrounded by bamboo on all sides, secluded and silent." It was a place for self-cultivation. Since it wasn't the weekend, the park was quiet, with fewer than ten people in the entire multi-acre grove.

The grove was filled with exotic stones and rockeries, adding a sense of mystery and tranquility to the lush green stalks. In the center flowed a stream about a meter wide, its water clear enough to see the bottom. I never knew its source, as it disappeared into the corner of the park wall; I always assumed it came from an underground spring, flowing toward the large lake in the center of the park.

In recent years, I had witnessed too many things that others wouldn't see in a lifetime. Whenever I felt burdened by things I couldn't move past, I would come here to clear my mind and soothe the emptiness within me. Of course, I also came to nurse a certain longing.

In this grove, there were a few bamboo stalks on the verge of becoming spirits. I only realized this after becoming a corpse demon. They grew together, each less than two meters apart. They had weathered centuries of trials, escaping the woodcutter's axe to survive until today. It was through this fear that they had cultivated into century-old bamboo spirits. Though they could not speak with mortal tongues, they could communicate their thoughts to those with supernatural abilities.

Because I visited so often, we had become well-acquainted. Whenever I had something on my mind, I would come to pour my heart out to them.

"Xiaodong is here. Is something weighing on your heart again?"

The bowl-thick green stalks swayed without any wind. If a supernatural being were nearby, they would hear the spirits speaking to me—some with the voices of elderly women, others with the calm, elegant tones of old men. It is said that bamboo is a symbol of quiet elegance, and that is truly the case.

These spirits had cultivated human-like souls over the centuries, each possessing an ethereal, celestial air. They swirled in the air around me, instantly putting my heart at ease.

"Yes, there have just been too many things lately. I'm tired. I keep thinking, how wonderful it would be if I were just an ordinary person." As I spoke, I sat down on a smooth stone and addressed the spirits swirling around me.

Fortunately, there was no one else in this part of the grove. It was located in a dense, dark, and secluded area where the sun barely penetrated—the kind of place most people and couples avoided.

"Actually, life is like a game of chess. The heavens and earth are the board, governed by the Great Order. The difficulty of resistance lies in the fact that everything is destiny. Why must you feel so burdened?"

A plump-looking elderly female spirit floated cross-legged before me, sharing her century-old insights on the Heavenly Dao. I didn't fully grasp it, but by connecting it to the novels I had read, I understood the gist: Life is a chess piece, the world is the board, and every move we make is watched by the Master of the Great Order. To resist is like an ant challenging an elephant—a path to self-destruction.

"Grandmother Bamboo, you're preaching again. I'm just tired, that's all." I pouted and shrugged, showing my helplessness.

"Xiaodong, tell Great Uncle Bamboo, are you missing that girl again? You say this every time you come, don't you?" An elderly man with a celestial aura sat beside me, his small eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint that made it hard to look him in the eye.

There were three pairs, six kind-hearted bamboo spirits in total. Though they appeared ethereal and refined on the surface, their hearts were like those of playful children, especially around me. They had given themselves the titles "Great Uncle" and "Second Uncle" years ago. I had objected at first, but now I was used to it—and as a man in his twenties, I didn't mind.

"Great Uncle, stop spouting nonsense! If you keep it up, I'll pluck your beard clean off!" I reached out to grab some green leaves from his stalk, causing him to howl and beg for mercy, while the others laughed as he clutched his chin.