Honkai Impact: My VR Harem is Real — Chapter 202

Chapter 202: Second Senior Brother

It was entirely evident to Rovel. Despite the frost that seemed to permanently coat Red Kite’s features, a quiet, deep care for those around her lingered beneath the surface.

Lin Chaoyu, however, kept her head bowed. Her deep-seated insecurities clouded her vision, making it impossible for her to reconcile the aloof immortal with the gentle protector Rovel saw.

This misunderstanding was exactly what Red Kite intended. Her icy exterior was a carefully crafted shield, forged in the fires of countless partings. Cursed with an immortal lifespan, she was destined to walk the earth alone. Forming new attachments—either for herself or for those fleeting mortal lives—was a dangerous luxury she refused to indulge in.

“Zhenren Red Kite cares a lot about you, Sister Chaoyu,” Rovel remarked, dusting off his robes as he stood up.

“Eh? No… don’t speak such nonsense! The Zhenren, she…” Lin Chaoyu stammered, her cheeks flushing as she stole a nervous, fleeting glance toward the doorway where the immortal stood.

“Follow me.” Red Kite offered no explanation or rebuttal. She simply addressed Rovel, her voice a cool breeze, before turning on her heel and stepping out into the courtyard.

Rovel offered Lin Chaoyu a reassuring wave and trailed after the immortal.

Left behind, Lin Chaoyu pressed a hand to her chest, her brow furrowed in conflicting emotions. Yet, as her gaze fell upon the young Su Mei, she softened her features into a gentle smile. “…I will continue to recite the Sword Heart Mantra for you.”

Su Mei merely tilted her head, her dark, bright eyes gleaming with silent curiosity.

Out in the open courtyard, the mountain air was crisp and biting. Before initiating the physical forms, Red Kite presented Rovel with a heavy, unadorned blade.

“This is a Xuanyuan Sword,” she instructed, her tone shifting into that of a strict mentor. “It is essential for mastering the ‘Intent’ of the Taixu Five Harmonies. When your mind aligns perfectly with the Xuanyuan Sword, Sword Intent will manifest naturally. The blade will transform into the shape that best suits your soul. Use it to practice the Sword Forms.”

She stepped back, her posture impeccable. “The foundation lies in four Sword Forms: Guard, Transform, Initiate, and Open. Together, they comprise twenty-one distinct styles…”

True to her nature, Red Kite wasted no breath on flowery metaphors. She moved straight into the physical demonstrations, her movements a blur of lethal grace as she began Rovel’s instruction.

Rovel’s aptitude proved terrifyingly sharp. By the time the sun dipped below the mountain peaks on the very first day, he had already grasped the Initiate Sword Form. He flowed through its three core techniques—Waning Moon, Sea Sever, and Sky Rend—with a fluid, heavy momentum. Because these strikes shared their foundational mechanics with the Cun Xin Fist Style he had already mastered, his muscle memory adapted to the heavy blade with frightening ease.

Noting the effortless arc of his swings, Red Kite did not let him rest. She immediately pushed him further, introducing the complex footwork and parries of the Transform Sword Form.

The sun rose and set, blurring the hours into a relentless cycle of swinging steel and correcting postures. Rovel practiced until his muscles screamed, and Red Kite instructed until the moon hung high. Soon, the days melted into a rigid, isolated routine. Each morning began with the silent, meditative recitation of the Sword Heart Mantra, followed by grueling hours of physical Sword Form drills in the courtyard.

Inside the quiet halls, Su Mei displayed her own brand of genius. It took the young girl a mere two days to completely memorize the complex verses of the Sword Heart Mantra, freeing Lin Chaoyu from her tutoring duties.

Following tradition, Red Kite presented Su Mei with her own Xuanyuan Sword. However, the heavy, metallic mass was entirely unmanageable for a toddler’s frail arms; she couldn’t even lift the hilt, let alone swing it. Seeing the girl’s frustration, Lin Chaoyu took it upon herself to whittle a perfectly balanced wooden sword for her.

That simple act of kindness bridged the gap between them. Su Mei clung to the older girl, her previous wariness melting away as she sweetly began calling her Sister Chaoyu. Watching the two of them laugh together over the wooden toy, Rovel leaned against his heavy blade, his brow furrowing. He knew the lore. He knew the dark future awaiting this sect. Seeing them so genuinely affectionate now made it entirely baffling to imagine how their bond would eventually sour into a blood-soaked rivalry as incompatible as fire and water.

Periodically, Red Kite would descend the mountain to purge roaming demons, leaving Lin Chaoyu in charge of the peak. Life in the secluded sect was painfully monotonous, consisting of nothing but endless sword drills and meditation. To break the dreary atmosphere, Lin Chaoyu would occasionally venture down to the mortal markets, returning with colorful trinkets, sweets, and wooden toys for her two juniors.

Rovel, naturally, had zero interest in spinning tops or clay dolls. He poured every ounce of his focus into perfecting his sword strikes, leaving the entire pile of gifts for a delighted Su Mei to claim.

“Brother Rovel, why do you practice the sword so hard?” Su Mei asked one afternoon. She sat on the porch steps, propping her small, chubby cheeks in her hands as she watched him sweat through another grueling set of drills.

“Because I refuse to feel the bitter sting of regret for my past laziness when the day comes that I desperately need strength.” Rovel’s heavy blade paused for only a fraction of a second before he smoothly transitioned into the Waning Moon stance, the air whistling around the steel.

He observed the girl from the corner of his eye. The current Su Mei was undeniably clever, but she displayed absolutely none of the deep, calculating malice that would define her future. She had even begun to let go of her simmering grudge against Red Kite. While she stubbornly refused to address the immortal directly, she no longer scurried away to hide whenever Red Kite entered the room.

Rovel narrowed his eyes, his grip tightening on the hilt. A toddler simply couldn’t mask their true nature with such terrifying perfection. That meant something drastic—something deeply traumatic—had to occur in the years to come, twisting this innocent child into a disciple who harbored the absolute intent to murder her own master.

Finding his serious answer utterly boring, Su Mei puffed out her cheeks and scampered off to stage a battle with her little wooden figures in the dirt.

Later, the moment Lin Chaoyu’s footsteps echoed on the mountain path, Su Mei instantly dropped her toys, grabbed her wooden sword, and pretended to be practicing with fierce diligence. When Lin Chaoyu patted her head and offered warm praise, the little girl beamed with radiant, unfiltered joy.

‘She really is just a normal child right now…’ Rovel thought, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Three months bled away into the mountain mist. To Rovel’s mild surprise, Su Mei managed to condense her Sword Heart a full step ahead of him, successfully breaking through to the world of Still Water. The achievement sent the little girl into a state of absolute euphoria, and she immediately sprinted across the courtyard to rub it in Rovel’s face.

“Hmph! I formed my Sword Heart way before you did!” Su Mei declared, planting her small hands firmly on her hips. Her chin tilted up, her face radiating smug, childish pride.

“Oh. Congratulations.” Rovel offered a flat, deadpan nod, not even breaking his stance as he continued his downward slashes.

“You… hmph!” Infuriated by his complete lack of reaction, Su Mei stomped her foot and stormed off in a huff, undoubtedly seeking out Lin Chaoyu for the validation she craved.

A couple of days later, Red Kite and Lin Chaoyu returned from a trip down the mountain. Tucked neatly under Red Kite’s arm was a worn copy of the Classic of Poetry.

“How about she takes the surname Lin, just like you?” Red Kite asked, looking toward the young girl. The immortal wasn’t blind; she had clearly observed the deep, sisterly bond blooming between Su Mei and Lin Chaoyu, prompting the suggestion.

“Ah, this…” Lin Chaoyu blinked, her hands fluttering nervously as she suddenly felt thrust into the spotlight.

“I already have a surname!” Su Mei interjected, her small voice ringing with sudden firmness. “Su. My mother’s surname was Su, and I will keep her name.”

“And what is your given name?” Red Kite asked, her tone remaining perfectly placid.

“My father gave me a name once,” the little girl muttered, her eyes darkening slightly. “But I have discarded it.”

Red Kite gave a slow, understanding nod. She opened the heavy parchment pages of the Classic of Poetry, her slender finger tracing a line of ancient text. “‘The one I love is at the water’s edge.’How do you feel about the word’Mei’?”

“What does it mean?” Su Mei asked, blinking in confusion.

“Mei refers to the exact boundary where the water meets the shore,” Red Kite explained softly.

“Where water and shore meet?” Su Mei repeated, her brows knitting together as she tried to grasp the poetic concept.

“If it does not suit you, I will gladly choose another,” Red Kite offered, her voice uncharacteristically light and brimming with quiet patience.

“No need. This one will do just fine.” Su Mei shook her head, a small, satisfied smile touching her lips.

With her new identity secured, Su Mei immediately trotted over to where Lin Chaoyu and Rovel stood. She bowed formally, her small hands clasped together. “Greetings, Sister Chaoyu. I am Su Mei.” She turned to the boy next. “Greetings, Brother Rovel. I am Su Mei.”

Lin Chaoyu jumped slightly at the sudden formality. She shot a panicked, hurried glance toward Red Kite, unsure of how to react, but the immortal’s face remained a mask of serene calm, utterly devoid of judgment.

“This… Little Su…” Lin Chaoyu urged gently, nudging the girl’s shoulder. “You should pay your respects to the Zhenren first. From now on, she is your guardian.”

But Su Mei firmly shook her head, her dark eyes locking onto the immortal. “The Zhenren is my enemy. I cannot acknowledge the killer of my past as my mother. But…” She hesitated, her small hands clenching into fists. “…the Zhenren has bestowed upon me the grace of teaching. That is a debt I must repay.”

Su Mei fell silent, her young mind churning. Finally, she looked up, meeting Red Kite’s gaze with absolute, unyielding seriousness. “The Zhenren passes her supreme martial arts down to me; such deep teachings must not remain nameless. Therefore, Su Mei is willing to take the Zhenren as her Master, and I shall serve faithfully by her side from this day forward.”

Without another word, the young girl dropped to her knees, pressing her forehead against the cold stone floor in a deep, reverent kowtow.

From his vantage point, Rovel caught the sharp, sudden shift in Lin Chaoyu’s expression. A whirlwind of complex, heavy emotions—perhaps a mix of relief, envy, and deep realization—was painted clearly across her delicate features.

“Chaoyu. Rovel. Both of you, come here as well.” Red Kite’s calm voice cut through the heavy atmosphere, her sharp eyes having missed absolutely nothing.

“Zhenren…?” Lin Chaoyu murmured, stepping forward with evident confusion.

“From this day onward,” Red Kite declared, her voice carrying the solemn weight of history, “Chaoyu, you shall be the Eldest Disciple of the Taixu Sword Sect. And Rovel, since you are older than Su Mei, you shall take the position of the Second Disciple.”

A brilliant, trembling light instantly ignited within Lin Chaoyu’s eyes. The crushing weight of her insecurities seemed to evaporate in that single breath.

“Thank you, Zhenren—” She caught herself, her voice thick with emotion as she dropped to one knee, bowing her head in absolute reverence. “No… thank you, Master!”

Rovel, however, stood frozen, a sudden, horrifying realization dawning on him. “Uh… Master? How about I take the spot of the Third Disciple instead?” he asked tentatively, raising a single hand.

Because if he officially accepted the mantle of the Second Disciple, that meant Su Mei, and any future disciples, would be obligated to address him as ‘Second Senior Brother’ from now until the end of time.

And given the cultural connotations of being the ‘Second Senior Brother’, that sounded absolutely terrible.

[Inorin’s Note: In Chinese pop culture and web novels, the title “Second Senior Brother” (二师兄) is famously associated with Zhu Bajie from the classic novel Journey to the West. Because of this, being called “Second Senior Brother” carries a comedic stigma of being lazy, gluttonous, or the butt of the joke, which is exactly why Rovel wants to avoid the title at all costs.]