A Family of Hopeless Romantics, Except for the Evil Little Junior Brother

Li Xuanxiao, a transmigrator.

Twenty years ago, he crossed into this world.

Not a child of destiny, no system to rely on.

With no other choice, he could only depend on sheer effort.

Fortunately, he had decent talent and devoted himself to pursuing the Great Dao of immortality.

In this chaotic world where demons and monsters roamed freely, Li Xuanxiao was lucky to have been found by the Sect Leader of Shushan.

Later, he became a disciple under the Sect Leader’s tutelage and grew up under Shushan’s protection.

Twenty years—it had already been so long.

After completing his mission, Li Xuanxiao returned to Shushan.

Li Xuanxiao looked up at the mist-covered peaks of Shushan.

A white crane flew out.

Shushan’s white cranes rarely left the mountain.

Every time they did, it meant a Shushan disciple had perished.

Legend had it that the cranes carried the souls of the fallen disciples back home.

This time, an especially large number of cranes took flight.

The Sect Leader of Shushan—that shameless old scoundrel—was dead.

On his way back, Li Xuanxiao had already prepared himself for what was to come.

The other disciples he encountered along the way gave him strange looks, their expressions conflicted.

Ignoring them, he headed straight for the main peak.

There, he saw his master, Daoist Lingxu.

Lingxu extended his broad hand and patted Li Xuanxiao’s shoulder.

"You did well."

Li Xuanxiao bowed his head slightly.

The other four martial uncles also looked at him approvingly.

Li Xuanxiao could feel their gazes.

He had braced himself for accusations, prepared for cold stares from the elders.

After all, he had personally sent the Sect Leader to his death.

In a way, he was his killer.

But things didn’t go as he had expected. His master and martial uncles treated him the same as always—if anything, their eyes held even more appreciation than before.

"Go see the Sect Leader," said Daoist Lingxu. "After all… he was the one who found you all those years ago. Now, you have seen him through his final journey. Such is fate."

"Yes."

".........."

The Sect Leader had yet to be buried.

Li Xuanxiao walked familiarly through the western side of the main hall, taking the small path leading to the back mountain.

The Sect Leader never liked staying in the main hall, preferring the solitude of his thatched hut.

Inside, he sat in his chair, eyes closed, as if he were merely asleep.

The winds of Shushan seemed to slow.

Memories surged in Li Xuanxiao’s mind.

It was his fifth year after transmigrating.

At first, he had been thrilled by the novelty of a new world, but after five years, that excitement had turned into despair.

No system. No cheats. No child-of-destiny fortune. No powerful family to back him.

Gone were the comforts of modern civilization—even having enough food to eat was a struggle.

In the end, a serious illness had left him convinced that he must be the unluckiest transmigrator in history.

The winters were the worst. Every year, countless people froze to death.

Li Xuanxiao thought he would be among them that year.

Then, he had met the man before him—the not-so-proper old geezer.

The self-proclaimed number one Sect Leader of Shushan.

The shameless old scoundrel who had saved him, tricked his parents into giving him away, and taken him under his wing.

Dressed in rags, carrying a wine gourd, the old man had dragged him across the world.

If injustice arose, he’d shout—then run for his life.

Stealing chickens, sneaking around, galloping across the plains on horseback, lying on mountaintops to watch the stars.

Roaming famous mountains, tracing rivers to their source.

Watching the ever-changing sky like a spinning lantern.

Li Xuanxiao closed his eyes.

Was it fate? Or was it just how things turned out?

Li Xuanxiao suddenly unsheathed his sword.

A blade drawn in the snow.

The wind howled, the snow fell harder.

He had trained in the Three Talents Sword Art—Heaven, Earth, and Man—for years.

Ever since meeting the old scoundrel, he had practiced it.

Yet, he had only ever grasped the Earth level, never reaching Heaven.

The old man’s voice seemed to echo in his ears.

That year by the lake, the old scoundrel had wielded a wooden staff.

With a swing of his sword aura, he had split the great river in two.

"Remember this—Shushan disciples exist to slay demons and uphold the Dao!"

"We act, even knowing we might fail. We stand our ground, even before the greatest fiends beyond the pass!"

"No matter how perilous the road ahead, no matter how uncertain our survival, we must wield our swords to defend the righteous path and protect all living beings!"

"We, disciples of Shushan, must charge forward without fear, ready to sacrifice ourselves! Even if we face death a hundred times over, we shall never regret it!!"

Li Xuanxiao’s fingers brushed over his sword’s edge.

The sorrow in his eyes was replaced by steely resolve.

"Sweeping away demons, one sword to slay all fiends!!"

Sword energy erupted, tearing through the air, whipping everything around into chaos.

At the same time, the snow that had been gently drifting from the sky suddenly twisted into a whirlwind, drawn by some unseen force, swirling violently alongside the sword’s aura.

Snowflakes and sword energy interwove, creating a breathtaking yet terrifying sight—a masterpiece of beauty and destruction.

"Hahahaha!!"

This time, Li Xuanxiao heard it clearly.

Lifting his head in astonishment, he saw—

The old scoundrel, who should have been dead, was standing right in front of him.

The old man reached out and ruffled his hair. "You didn’t embarrass me, kid!"

Li Xuanxiao plunged his sword into the ground and dropped to one knee.

"Disciple Li Xuanxiao respectfully bids farewell to the Sect Leader!!"

"..........."

Following the small path, he left the back mountain.

As he looked up, he saw a figure sitting in a tree.

"First Senior Brother."

Xue Yun took a sip of his wine and said calmly, "What I couldn't do, you did. You're stronger than me."

Li Xuanxiao forced a smile, as if he found Xue Yun's words somewhat amusing.

First Senior Brother was a once-in-a-millennium genius—even the Sky-Devouring Demon Lord had admitted it himself.

If they had been born in the same era, Li Xuanxiao would have been completely overshadowed.

There was no helping it—First Senior Brother was simply too dazzling.

So dazzling, in fact, that sometimes Li Xuanxiao couldn't help but wonder if Xue Yun was the real transmigrated child of destiny, while he was merely a side character.

"The Sect Leader is dead... That old bastard... Though he was my biological father, I could never bring myself to like him."

As he spoke, Xue Yun tossed a jade box to Li Xuanxiao.

"The old man originally left this for me, but I’m not worthy of it. It's yours now."

Li Xuanxiao caught the jade box.

Xue Yun let out another sigh.

"My father is dead, and the woman I love is about to marry someone else. They say the strong can change everything. I'm strong, but I couldn't save my old man, and I couldn't change the heart of the woman I love.

Xuanxiao, tell me, am I a complete failure?

If it were you, how would you take back the woman you love?"

Li Xuanxiao pondered for a moment before replying, "I would devote myself entirely to cultivation and strive to attain immortality."

Xue Yun clenched his fist. "That's right! I’ll take her back!"

Li Xuanxiao: (⊙o⊙)…

That’s not what I meant.

Xue Yun, suddenly energized, jumped down from the tree.

"Yes! Yes, that’s exactly it! Thank you, Xuanxiao. I can't live without her!"

With that, he disappeared from Li Xuanxiao’s sight.

Li Xuanxiao: "First Senior Brother, no… no… your father just died… The first seven days haven’t even passed yet..."