The Boy Who Loved to Wear Split-Crotch Pants

Xie Wuji was now certain—this place was definitely not his original world, and those pointed ears were real. He said, “Wait for me here, I’ll go get something!” Without another word, he strode toward the giant tree at the village center. Once there, he slipped his hand into his pocket and grasped the ancient mirror. With a deep focus of his mind, sure enough, he returned to his own world.

He set down his luggage and gazed around his familiar rented room. The gloom that had weighed on him began to lift, for Xie Wuji felt needed. Though he was battered by life, in the eyes of those villagers from another world, his setbacks seemed trifling.

He had already made up his mind—he would help them.

When he went to buy steamed buns, Old Deng, the bun seller, was startled by Xie Wuji’s request for five hundred buns. Even at fifty cents each, that would be two hundred and fifty yuan. Yet Old Deng gave him a discount and only charged two hundred, understanding that Xie Wuji was not a wealthy man.

Passing through the ancient mirror once more, Xie Wuji returned to the village. The moment the villagers saw the steamed buns, they rushed over in excitement, nearly causing a riot. If not for Xiaoyu’s timely intervention to restore order, the buns might have been snatched away entirely. In the end, with Xiaoyu’s help, each household received their share.

“Eat slowly, everyone. Don’t choke. There’s more if you need it,” Xie Wuji waved to the crowd. Then he went to the village chief’s house and gave him the medicine he’d bought. The chief’s complexion improved considerably.

The villagers, as though beholding a deity, began to kneel and bow in reverence.

Xie Wuji gradually grew accustomed to their attitudes. He said, “Everyone, please get up… I have a question. Where exactly is this place?”

A middle-aged man called Uncle Zhong stepped forward, his demeanor humble. “Lord Tree Spirit, this is the Kingdom Above the Clouds.”

So, the village held its own secrets. Because Xie Wuji had fed them and saved the chief, gratitude loosened every tongue, and they confided everything to him.

The village was composed of disciples who had fled various sects—some exiles, some survivors whose sects had been destroyed. They were not all from the same origin. Uncle Zhong’s sect, it seemed, had been massacred by enemies, leaving only a handful who brought their scattered relics to this remote place to escape disaster.

There were seven great kingdoms in the world, and the Kingdom Above the Clouds was one of them. The village, named Savage Village, was a self-deprecating title adopted by these refugees.

With the passage of countless years, most had accepted their lot; few still dreamed of revenge. The relics they’d brought were piled in a dusty, neglected storeroom, rarely touched.

Time, indeed, was a ruthless butcher’s knife—it dulled the sharpest hatred, turning would-be avengers into ordinary folk.

“Are you truly a tree spirit? Why do you seem so approachable?” Xiaoyu asked.

“Ah?” Xie Wuji turned to her, his thoughts yanked back to the present. He smiled, “I’m no god. My name is Xie Wuji. I’m just a passerby…”

Xiaoyu’s cheeks flushed. She suddenly remembered how Xie Wuji had pinched her ear earlier. For a girl, having her ear touched was no small matter, and for the revered tree spirit to do so—what could it mean?

She stole a glance at Xie Wuji. Though his looks were unremarkable, his kindness shone through, and the longer she looked, the more pleasing she found his face.

Xie Wuji slipped his hand into his pocket, intending to focus his mind and return to his own world. He still needed to find a job, to give reality one last try. But this time, the ancient mirror didn’t respond.

He crouched before Xiaoyu, shifting his hand left and right inside his pocket, but to no avail.

Watching Xie Wuji’s hand moving in his trousers ever more vigorously, Xiaoyu looked utterly confused. “Brother Xie, you…”

“Don’t interrupt your Brother Xie,” Uncle Zhong said with a glance, shaking his head. “He’s enjoying a man’s pleasure, imagining you as his fantasy. Still, doing such things in broad daylight is a bit indecent…”

Xiaoyu asked, “Uncle Zhong, do you know what he’s doing?”

Uncle Zhong coughed, whispered a few words in her ear, and Xiaoyu’s face turned crimson. She exclaimed, “Brother Xie, you’re so shameless!”

With that, she covered her face and fled. Yet Xie Wuji only worked his hand harder, thinking that the mirror required vigorous friction. But he overdid it, and his trousers tore.

Riiip!

The sound of ripping cloth brought the noisy village square to instant silence. Everyone turned to look at Xie Wuji. A little girl, bun in her mouth, was so stunned she dropped her food. Her mother, cheeks flushed, immediately covered the child’s eyes. “Don’t look—grown-ups do things like that…”

With his trousers ruined, Xie Wuji had no choice but to remain in the village for now. There were still many buns left, as the village’s population was small. He noticed Xiaoyu giving him strange looks, as if she misunderstood something about him.

Fortunately, Xiaoyu’s father had recovered well. Like the others, they no longer took Xie Wuji for a tree spirit, but rather as a wandering spellcaster.

In this world, practicing magic seemed fairly ordinary.

Xie Wuji donned Old Song’s clothes, since his own trousers were beyond repair. But the ancient mirror had suddenly ceased to function, leaving him troubled.

“Since you’re a spellcaster and you saved my life with miraculous medicine, as well as feeding us all, we owe you a debt,” Old Song said at the dinner table, placing a chopstick of wild greens into Xie Wuji’s bowl.

In his bowl sat half a steamed bun and some rice soup.

Surveying the humble surroundings, Xie Wuji smiled. “Uncle Song, you’re too kind. I simply couldn’t ignore good people in trouble. There’s no need to speak of debts.”

“After the meal, let Xiaoyu show you the storeroom. Since you know magic, perhaps one of our ancestors’ relics will be useful to you. If we don’t repay your kindness, we can’t rest easy,” Old Song said warmly.

Unable to refuse, Xie Wuji finished his meal and followed Xiaoyu to the storeroom. Inside, he found everything covered in dust, but the room was crammed with all sorts of weapons, armor, and curious items.

In a corner, several stacks of books lay piled up, their titles obscured by grime.

Curious, Xie Wuji walked over for a closer look. At that moment, the ancient mirror in his pocket began to grow hot. He immediately stuck his hand into his pocket, causing Xiaoyu to shiver, her mind flashing back to the embarrassing scene from earlier.

Her cheeks flushed again. In a shy, trembling voice, she said, “My father said you can choose anything you like from here. Take whatever you fancy. I won’t disturb you anymore. But Uncle Zhong says, though it’s normal for men to do such things, doing it too often… is bad for your kidneys.”

With that, she covered her face and fled outside, clutching her chest with her pale, delicate hands, gasping, “Brother Xie is so shameless! Just watching me do things… It’s mortifying! How can I ever get married after this? So indecent! Oh, this is too much!”

Left alone in the storeroom, Xie Wuji watched her leave and pulled out the ancient mirror. “Ow! It’s burning hot—what’s going on? Did someone put batteries in this thing and now it’s short-circuited?”

Examining the mirror, he noticed it was emitting a faint glow. Suddenly, it slipped from his hand and rolled across the floor, coming to rest in an inconspicuous corner, beside a dust-covered chest.

Curious, Xie Wuji wondered if the mirror had burned his leg on purpose to lead him here. He opened the chest and found an egg inside.

The egg was the size of an ostrich’s, covered in swirling patterns. Puzzled, he thought, “Did the mirror gain a spirit, and now it wants me to fry it an egg?”

Just then, a beam of light from the mirror shone onto the egg. Instantly, the egg began to hatch. Instead of a kitten, puppy, gosling, duckling, or ostrich, a fiery red vortex spun rapidly inside.

It looked just like a spiraling ball of energy, whirling around at speed.

Intrigued, Xie Wuji leaned in for a closer look. Sensing his approach, the vortex sprang up and shot straight at him.

With a pop, the vortex plunged squarely into Xie Wuji’s backside. He felt a strange sensation, as though something inside him had been unblocked, or as if some hidden part of his being had awakened.

He lay sprawled on the floor, bottom in the air, in a most undignified posture.

At that very moment, the door opened.

“Brother, it’s about time—have you… chosen… yet…?” Xiaoyu froze in the doorway, nearly turned to stone at the sight. Xie Wuji’s trousers had split again, and his exposed rear was facing her directly.

Bang! Xiaoyu fainted dead away. Seeing her collapse, Xie Wuji sprang up. “Xiaoyu! Xiaoyu, are you alright?”

Just then, several villagers arrived, carrying newly gathered wild greens to thank Xie Wuji. They walked in to see him, pants split wide, holding the unconscious Xiaoyu.

For a moment, chaos reigned.