Chapter Fourteen

Yun Zhi obediently fell silent, watching Chu Rong carefully.

The mask hid Chu Rong's face completely, and nothing could be seen. Chu Rong quietly thanked Yun Zhi, turned, and closed the door.

Was Gongzi in a bad mood?

Yun Zhi gripped the coarse cloth of his robe in both fists, brows knitted tightly together, his expression anxious and worried.

At that same moment.

Ten thousand li away, at Wangxian Peak in Qingxu Sect.

Qingxu Sect was the foremost sect among the hundred immortal sects. Of its more than a thousand disciples, over eighty percent could cultivate, and every one of them was a person of outstanding talent. To casually pull any one of its disciples out at random would yield a genius chosen from among thousands. In both numbers and cultivation level, it held absolute crushing superiority over all other immortal sects.

Not only that, of the two Nascent Soul cultivators in the entire cultivation world, one of them resided in Qingxu Sect — and the sect was presided over by the only God Transformation cultivator in all three realms, the venerable Ning Yuan.

And so Qingxu Sect stood alone and unshaken among all the hundred immortal sects. Even though word had it that Venerable Ning Yuan had entered seclusion a hundred years ago and had yet to emerge, there was not a soul in the three realms who dared to provoke Qingxu Sect.

And Wangxian Peak was the mansion of this venerable figure.

Wangxian Peak was set with a spirit-gathering formation. Spiritual energy swirled all around it. Behind the mountain, a cloud-piercing waterfall fell in a straight plunge, crashing against the rocks, sending water droplets flying and mist billowing in dense clouds.

At the very summit of Wangxian Peak stood a crystal-like, towering palace, vast and solemn, cold and empty all around, without a trace of human presence. The floors inside were paved with white jade, the ground carved into lotus flowers — each bloom a five-petaled lotus, the petals vivid and delicate, the stamens fine enough to be clearly discerned. To step upon it was to feel a lush, cool smoothness beneath the feet.

Set against the inner wall directly opposite the palace doors was a white jade couch twenty chi long, its four sides adorned with hollow-carved cloud patterns. Seated upon it was a tall man.

The man's features were exceptional — sharply defined, deeply sculpted, carrying a natural air of dignity and majesty, an innate and effortless nobility.

A snow-white gauze robe wrapped around a powerful, upright frame. The robe's hem cascaded over the jade couch. His long, strong legs were crossed and folded. His slender fingers, cold and pale as marble carving, rested across both knees. Dense, dark lashes hung low, and his eyes were closed, casting a curved shadow on his pale skin.

The man didn't move at all. Pure white spiritual energy of near-tangible density poured out from his body in all directions, like the trailing shadows of countless sharp blades sweeping and circling around him. An impenetrable, overwhelming pressure filled the entire palace like a heaven-spanning net, so dense the very air grew thin.

Like a god descended into the mortal world — lofty and supreme, tolerating not the slightest violation, without even a breath of worldly aura about him.

Suddenly.

The man's dense lashes trembled faintly, and he slowly opened his eyes. Their shape was severe and cutting, his gaze icy cold, his dark pupils like a still, fathomless cold pool.

He tilted his gaze slightly downward, glancing at the hand resting on his knee. The image of the man he had just seen by the clear spring pool drifted unbidden into his mind.

The same posture. Sitting there motionless for a full half-hour, and nothing had happened.

Ning Yuan's eyes held a brief flicker of something subtle — there and gone in an instant, too fleeting to catch. His lips moved slightly, and three words floated out into the empty air: "Quite slow-witted."

His voice was ice-cold, low and resonant, like pearls dropping onto a jade plate — carrying not a single degree of warmth, without the slightest rise or fall.

Ning Yuan withdrew his gaze. Those eyes seeping with deep, profound pressure slowly closed again, and he returned to absolute stillness.

The vast, empty palace fell silent once more.

Chu Rong had absolutely no idea someone had just called him slow-witted.

Having accepted that he had no cultivation talent, Chu Rong stopped wasting time on the matter. His jade-pale knuckles tapped the writing desk lightly, one after another, as he turned over the plot of the remaining half year in his mind.

The nearest plot point was the sect test two days from now.

Two months ago, two outer-gate disciples had successfully drawn qi into their bodies. The Qingyang Heavenly Sect was specially holding a test to allow the two disciples to choose whose guidance they would study under.

The test was divided into two parts.

The first part: testing aptitude. Covering cultivation common knowledge through to perceptive ability, this would be assessed by the senior disciple of the sect's disciples, Xu Ziyang.

The second part: testing character and resolve. This part would be conducted within the sect's secret realm, primarily meant to test the disciples' ability to respond to unexpected situations, and the strength of their character when faced with danger.

When immortal sects were founded, the location was never chosen arbitrarily. They were established by combining the timing of heaven, the advantages of terrain, and the harmony of people — and the area's resources also had to be plentiful.

So within the cultivation world's sects, there would be one or two secret realms without exception. While the Guardian Formation was sealed, the resources within the secret realm served as the fuel for the entire sect's cultivation.

The secret realm within the Qingyang Heavenly Sect did not have abundant resources, but its space was quite large, the interior winding and labyrinthine, and without the guidance of the Sect Master or a senior elder, it was very difficult to get out.

In the original text, the test began proceeding smoothly. It was only during the secret realm portion that one of the disciples, while facing the attack of a spirit beast within the realm, used a technique that didn't belong to the Qingyang Heavenly Sect — which aroused the suspicions of Lian Ci and the others.

Under questioning, the disciple confessed that the technique had been stolen. He then named the person from whom he had stolen it.

As chance would have it, the person he named turned out to be a demon clan spy who had been hiding within the Qingyang Heavenly Sect. The spy was normally very well concealed, and it was only by chance, one night during cultivation practice, that the disciple had happened to see him, and had stolen one or two moves.

The spy's cultivation was not low, but he was no match for an entire sect. Seeing his identity exposed, the spy wounded two disciples in his attempt to flee, then retreated into the secret realm — and before going in, he seized Xu Ziyang as a hostage.

Cen Yan rushed into the secret realm to save Xu Ziyang. He found him, but lost track of the spy, and then got lost too. The two of them were trapped in the secret realm for three days, and it was ultimately Lian Ci himself who entered to bring them both out.

During the three days in the secret realm, the two of them were together day and night, and their feelings developed rapidly — so much so that Xu Ziyang became the first person to truly win Cen Yan's heart. No wonder readers always said Xu Ziyang was not so much "a gong who came first" as he was "a gong who came closest to winning."

Inside the main hall of the Qingyang Heavenly Sect.

Gold-forged pillar bases. The coiling-dragon-patterned jade tiles from outside continued unbroken into the interior. On the gold-lacquered carved main seat, Lian Ci sat looking at the bamboo scrolls laid out on the desk before him, his brow furrowed deep, his expression grave.

Below the hall, Cen Yan, Xu Ziyang, and the Discipline Hall administrator Yan Zhan stood in a row, all with heads bowed and not a word spoken.

The atmosphere in the hall was suffocating. A pin drop could be heard.

After some indeterminate length of time, Lian Ci's gaze lifted from the bamboo scrolls and swept in turn over the three standing below.

"Yan Zhan, you are a senior elder of the sect, and oversee the Discipline Hall. You cannot be unaware of the importance of the outer gate. A sweeping crackdown will only be counterproductive. Ziyang, you are the sect's head senior disciple and know full well how the sect's affairs operate — how could you allow Yan'er to carry on so recklessly?!"

Outer gate matters needed to be handled slowly rather than hastily. It was perfectly normal for Cen Yan, in his youth and with his sense of justice, to be driven by outrage. But Xu Ziyang and Yan Zhan — how old were they? How could they not know better?

Lian Ci showed no mercy, giving both Yan Zhan and Xu Ziyang a thorough dressing-down.

Cen Yan pressed his lips together and calmly recounted the full course of events, dropping to one knee in a gesture of contrition: "This has nothing to do with Shixiong or Elder Yan. It was I who acted on my own judgment. I ask the Sect Master to punish me!"

Cen Yan was gifted, upright, and handsome — Lian Ci adored him. How could he possibly punish him?

Lian Ci's throat caught. Looking at Cen Yan's earnest face, he pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation, his tone softening: "Very well. Let this be the last time. Don't take unilateral action again in the future."

The three of them bowed in acknowledgment.

With the outer gate matter set aside, the conversation turned to the real business at hand. Lian Ci looked toward Xu Ziyang: "Ziyang, are preparations for the test two days from now all in order?"

With inner-gate disciples in short supply, two promising candidates had finally come along. Lian Ci cared about it greatly.

Xu Ziyang smiled with easy confidence: "Sect Master may rest easy — everything is proceeding smoothly."

"Well done." A hint of a smile finally appeared on Lian Ci's face, and he didn't hold back his praise: "You've handled it well. The seat always trusts your work. Yan'er — go and help Ziyang these next two days."

The test was within the sect and posed no danger. For Cen Yan, it was a minor matter. He had no reason to refuse: "Yes."

Coming out of the main hall, Xu Ziyang smiled warmly at Cen Yan, his voice smooth and resonant: "Shall I walk you back to Misty Pine Residence?"

Cen Yan said nothing, and bowed to Xu Ziyang.

Xu Ziyang's smile dropped for a moment, and he hurried to support Cen Yan: "Shidi, what are you doing?"

Cen Yan straightened up at that, and explained seriously: "I'm sorry, Shixiong — it is because of me that you were scolded by the Sect Master."

Xu Ziyang laughed helplessly. "It's nothing to make such a fuss about," he said, resigned.

The Sect Master had only said a few harsh words — no real punishment had been handed down. Receiving some reproach from one's elders was perfectly ordinary. Cen Yan had no need to apologize to him for it.

Yet Cen Yan shook his head: "It matters. In a few years' time, you and Second Shixiong Pei Zhan will be contending for the position of the next Sect Master. He is already the Sect Master's own disciple, which gives him an inherent advantage. If the Sect Master develops any sort of dissatisfaction with you because of this, your chances might..."

And there was the matter that three years ago, Elder Lin had died from serious injuries sustained while protecting Cen Yan. Compared to Pei Zhan, Xu Ziyang had nothing to his name but an empty title as head senior disciple.

The rest of what Cen Yan meant to say he left unspoken, but the implication was perfectly clear.

The smile on Xu Ziyang's face vanished entirely. His eyes darkened, his expression shifting between light and shadow. For a breath or two, he curved the corners of his lips back up into a warm smile, not a shadow of gloom left to be seen.

"What, don't you trust your Shixiong?" Xu Ziyang guided Cen Yan back toward Misty Pine Residence, his tone steady and composed, the kind of voice that made one instinctively want to believe him: "The Sect Master is not the sort to blur the line between public and private matters. And for the position of Sect Master — let ability decide. If in a few years' time I truly lose to Pei Zhan, I won't have anything to complain about."

Cen Yan inwardly rather hoped it wouldn't be Pei Zhan who became Sect Master — not out of any partiality toward Xu Ziyang, but because Pei Zhan was arrogant and headstrong. He had entered the sect two years after Xu Ziyang, yet his cultivation was already near equal. His conduct was erratic and self-indulgent, and he respected no one except his own master, Sect Master Lian Ci.

Pei Zhan's character was not suited for leading a sect. Xu Ziyang, on the other hand, was approachable without lacking authority, commanding both respect and affection — well suited for the role of Sect Master.

But after all, it was a matter still years away, and talking about it now was pointless. Cen Yan knew when to stop, and said no more.

The last traces of evening light had sunk below the western hills. The light around them grew dimmer by degrees, and the trees and foliage surrounding Misty Pine Residence merged into a dark, indistinguishable mass. Only one room had a candle still burning inside.

Xu Ziyang recognized it — that was Chu Rong's room.

He looked at the tightly closed door, a flicker of puzzlement crossing his eyes. Usually when he walked Cen Yan back, Chu Rong would immediately come out and plant himself there, staking his claim and making sure Xu Ziyang couldn't get close to Cen Yan.

Why hadn't there been a single sign of him today?

"Shixiong, would you like to come in and sit for a while?" Cen Yan gestured toward his own room in invitation.

Xu Ziyang pulled his gaze away, and just as he was about to accept, he recalled the words Cen Yan had said outside the hall. With a smile, he declined: "Next time. I still need to go back to Xuanjian Pavilion and check whether there are any gaps in the arrangements for the test."

Xuanjian Pavilion was Elder Lin's former residence. After Elder Lin passed away, it was Xu Ziyang who had been living there.

Xuanjian Pavilion was large and grand, with carved beams and painted rafters, the spirit spring drawn in from the back mountain circling around the courtyard, lotus growing upright in the pool, not a single detail left unrefined.

Compared to the tranquil Misty Pine Residence, it was all the more broad and open.

The test was important, and Cen Yan had no wish to force him: "Shixiong, take care."

Xu Ziyang gave a slight nod, turned, and left Misty Pine Residence.

Xuanjian Pavilion was not too far from Misty Pine Residence.

After about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, Xu Ziyang returned to Xuanjian Pavilion. The moment he stepped into the main hall, a servant came forward to meet him, offering up a cup of tea at just the right temperature.

Xu Ziyang took a sip, set down the cup, and went back to the study to attend to business.

The servant saw him off respectfully. Once Xu Ziyang's figure had disappeared at the end of the covered walkway, the servant tidied up the tea table and was just about to withdraw when several quiet knocks sounded at the main gate.

The servant looked out at the sky. At this hour, who could it be?

The servant walked quickly to the main gate and asked through the thick door in a low voice: "Who is it?"

From outside came a voice deliberately kept small, halting and broken: "It's me, Shi Ming — there's something I'd like to ask your help with."