"For sixty years I, Liu Hongfeng, have presided over the Discipline Hall, with case records filling ten storage bags. I've heard every excuse, plea, and confession under the sun, but never such a request as this."
Song Qianji responded, "Then you're truly missing out by not hearing it."
"Speak. How do you intend to meet the Sect Leader?"
The Discipline Hall disciples finally finished their laughter, struggling to regain solemn expressions.
Working late overtime, everyone harbored some resentment, but unexpectedly stumbling upon such a spectacle had them all bright-eyed and intently focused on Song Qianji.
"This disciple will write one sentence. If the Sect Leader sees it, he will naturally grant me an audience."
"That simple?"
"Yes." Song Qianji nodded.
Liu Hongfeng sneered, "If it were truly that simple, you wouldn't need to see the Sect Leader—you might as well slit your throat and meet the Dao Ancestor directly. Are you mocking us?"
He thought to himself that the Sect Leader had been cultivating tranquility in recent years and hadn't left the Cosmos Palace for three years. Even when various peaks and halls had matters to report, they rarely saw the Sect Leader in person, mostly communicating through white cranes, Daoist pages, and voice transmission talismans.
This wasn't exactly a secret, only unknown to Outer Sect disciples like Song Qianji.
"Whether it's true or false, why not test it?"
"Song Qianji!" Zhao Yuping suddenly shouted, feigning anguish, "This is the Discipline Hall, and we are conducting an official hearing! Jesting during court proceedings adds another count to your crimes—even I cannot save you then! Do you understand?"
"This disciple understands!"
"If the Sect Leader refuses to see you, you'll receive three hundred lashes, then have your cultivation abolished before being expelled from the mountain. Are you clear about this?"
"This disciple is clear!"
Zhao Yuping nodded with satisfaction.
Discipline Hall disciples couldn't help whispering among themselves:
"Is he kneeling for his own brother to go to such lengths?"
"Don't speculate wildly. One's named Song, the other Meng—cousins at most."
"If I had such an unlucky cousin, burning incense for him would already count as fulfilling brotherly duty."
"As you wish." Liu Hongfeng waved his hand. "Give him paper and brush."
His attendant disciple hurriedly complied.
"No need for trouble." Song Qianji walked toward the small square table in the shadowy corner, smiling at the disciple responsible for recording the trial. "Mind if I borrow some space?"
The disciple had been secretly dozing off. Hearing the voice, he looked up to find the entire hall's burning gaze fixed on him, startling him so much he dropped his brush.
Song Qianji caught the falling brush mid-air, dipped it fully in ink.
He tore half a sheet of blank paper from the table and wrote swiftly.
Some thought he was drafting a petition to beg the Sect Leader for mercy and a chance at survival.
But he truly wrote only one sentence.
Song Qianji set down the brush.
He folded the paper into a triangle, like a small zongzi, with the written side hidden inside.
"Which senior brother would be willing to make the trip?" he asked clearly.
Liu Hongfeng initially pointed casually at one disciple, then reconsidered and sent another along.
The two Discipline Hall disciples maintained calm appearances, taking the object and turning to leave, but their eyes shone unusually bright, filled with curiosity.
Song Qianji: "Don't open it on the way—for your own good."
One disciple turned back, face flushing red: "Who would peek?!"
"The messengers have departed. Those of us remaining here shouldn't wait idly indefinitely—we ought to set a time limit." Zhao Yuping turned to Liu Hongfeng. "Since this matter originated in the Outer Sect, Elder Liu needn't worry about me showing favoritism. How about one incense stick's time?"
Liu Hongfeng frowned. Zhao Yuping suddenly becoming so upright and impartial really made him uncomfortable.
Was one incense stick too short?After nightfall, heading to the Main Peak would inevitably involve encountering several patrols of Enforcement Hall disciples, requiring stops for questioning and inspections. Upon reaching the Cosmos Palace, one would still need to wait for the Sect Leader’s Daoist page to announce their arrival. Even after seeing the note, the Sect Leader would need time to deliberate.
Yet Song Qianji said, "No need. Half an incense stick’s time is enough."
Everyone wore expressions as if they had seen a ghost.
Liu Hongfeng scrutinized Song Qianji anew.
The Discipline Hall was solemn and imposing, its chilling aura enough to unsettle newcomers. Yet from the moment he entered, Song Qianji had not changed his posture once, nor spoken a single unnecessary word.
He was too composed, as if he had calculated that nothing would happen to him. What could a young Outer Sect disciple possibly rely on?
"Someone, light the incense."
A halved incense stick, a porcelain lotus incense holder.
Elegant fragrance rose with the wisps of smoke, permeating the entire Discipline Hall. Mingling with the scent of Meng Heze’s blood, it sharpened the senses of everyone present on this cool night.
"Senior Brother Song..." Meng Heze’s lips trembled, emitting a faint, weak sound.
Song Qianji walked over to him, leaning down to say, "Hold on a little longer. We’ll be back soon."
"After I’m gone, I entrust all my belongings to you. This Buddhist bead bracelet of mine..."
Song Qianji glanced at the surrounding Discipline Hall disciples and cut him off, "You won’t die. Don’t talk nonsense."
Meng Heze: "I should have listened to you. I shouldn’t have acted on impulse. You must be very angry with me."
"It’s fine. I’m not angry."
Song Qianji thought to himself, On the contrary, I should thank you for giving me a reason to leave the mountain.
"Really?"
"Really."
Everyone kept their eyes fixed on the burning incense, but only Song Qianji seemed unconcerned with the passage of time, speaking intermittently in low tones with Meng Heze.
Amid the drifting smoke and the tense, eerie atmosphere, the two of them resembled brothers awaiting a final judgment.
The ember at the tip of the incense flickered twice before finally extinguishing.
Zhao Yuping let out an almost imperceptible sigh of relief.
Liu Hongfeng, however, seemed somewhat regretful: "Do you have any last words?"
Song Qianji straightened up: "This disciple has nothing to say."Two Discipline Hall disciples stepped forward, tacitly twisting his arms behind his back."
"Let go of Senior Brother Song!" Meng Heze roared like a dying beast, "Let him go—"
Who would have thought that someone who had nearly bled dry could still erupt with such ferocity?
The guards staggered back two steps from the impact but quickly swarmed to restrain him again.
Meng Heze struggled violently, his eyes taking on a strange crimson hue.
Song Qianji thought, This is bad. "Calm down!"
If the red jade Buddhist beads activated now to protect their master in front of the entire Discipline Hall, Meng Heze would truly have no chance of survival.
You’ve been restrained all night without breaking—why act out now?
With a loud crash, the door was thrown open. A gust of wind swept in, accompanied by the urgent shouts of the messenger disciples:
"The Sect Leader requests—requests Song Qianji’s presence! Depart at once!"
The entire hall was struck with astonishment!
※※※
The Huawei Sect was home to numerous peaks, yet only six were renowned.
Just as there were five Peak Lords, there was only one Sect Leader.
The Sect Leader’s Main Peak rose abruptly from the ground, standing isolated and aloof amid the sea of clouds, unconnected to the surrounding peaks.
Without permission for Sword Kinesis Flight or the use of Flying Magical Artifacts, there was only one path to the Main Peak.
Song Qianji was walking on that very path.
Following the two messenger disciples, he stepped onto a hundred-meter-long white jade arch bridge spanning the sea of clouds.
This bridge was named "Fleeting Water Bridge."
Beneath it, flowing clouds surged like water, ceaseless and swift.
At such a height, it should have been bitterly cold, with howling winds strong enough to sweep one off the bridge.But with the protective formations in place, the temperature was pleasant, carrying a serene beauty of gentle breezes, bright moonlight, and scattered blossoms.
With no one else around and only the moon and stars illuminating the night, the two disciples dropped their formal airs and couldn’t resist striking up a conversation with Song Qianji:
“You’re really lucky to visit the Main Peak on your first trip to the Inner Sect.”
“The Cloud Sea Formation of our Huawel Sect spans ten li around the Main Peak! It’s renowned for its triple functions: aiding in Spirit Qi absorption, daily defense, and repelling enemies.”
Song Qianji responded with a few words, which only spurred the two to chatter more enthusiastically, like a pair of talkative tour guides.
They avoided mentioning the contents of the note—not out of lack of curiosity, but for fear of intruding on the Sect Leader’s secrets.
Earlier, when the note was delivered, the Daoist page outside the hall went in to report. Moments later, the page hurried out, expressionless:
“The Sect Leader asks, have you read it?”
Without hesitation, the two swore a solemn oath on their Dao hearts that they had not.
Only after stumbling out of the Main Peak, recalling the terrifying pressure that had emanated from the hall, did they break into a cold sweat, feeling as if they had narrowly escaped death.
Then they realized Song Qianji’s warning, “Don’t open it on the way—it’s for your own good,” had truly been meant to protect them.
The taller disciple remarked, “Time flows like water, never ceasing day or night, never to return. The name Fleeting Water Bridge reminds us to cherish every moment and cultivate diligently.”
The shorter disciple disagreed, “That’s too cliché, far too cliché.” Turning to Song Qianji, he noticed the other’s calm expression. “Aren’t you amazed seeing all this for the first time? Don’t you want to shout out loud? Aren’t you excited?”
Song Qianji had no choice but to nod. “I am excited.”
“I can’t tell.”
“...”
In his previous life, Song Qianji had been here but had not crossed this bridge.
The rules and rituals of Huawel Sect, and indeed most of the world, had not been designed for someone like him.
Back then, he was already renowned across the land and had been invited by True Person Xuyun, the Huawel Sect Leader, for a discourse on the Dao.
A grand welcome ceremony was held in his honor, with bells, drums, and ceremonial music resounding for half a day. True Person Xuyun led all the Peak Lords to personally await his arrival outside the Cosmos Palace.
Yet Song Qianji not only arrived late but also descended on a cloud, disrupting the entire formation’s energy flow and startling the five-colored carp into flipping belly-up in panic—and no one dared utter a word of complaint.
When the Cloud Sea is rich with Spirit Qi, it can nurture five-colored carp.
These small fish, born of Spirit Qi and swimming among the clouds, possess the most beautiful scales.
Under sunlight, they reflect a rainbow of colors, leaping from the clouds like arcs of light; under moonlight, they turn translucent, delicate as crystal.
The first time Song Qianji saw them, he couldn’t understand why such marvels of nature, shaped by heaven and earth, couldn’t subsist on wind and dew but required fresh flesh and blood to be fed.
Later, he understood: beneath all the lofty and beautiful things in this world lies a foundation of piled bones.
Just like the cloud-palaces atop Huawel Sect’s peaks—the laborers who built them brick by stone have long turned to dust, while those who enjoy them remain for generations.
“Are you really excited? I feel like you… you’re not at all…”
The voice cut off abruptly.
The two disciples froze in place as if struck by a immobilizing Talisman, mouths agape as they stared in the same direction.
Song Qianji followed their gaze and saw a figure approaching from the other end of the bridge.
It was a woman.
Walking on the same Fleeting Water Bridge, meeting face to face in the deep stillness of night, it was only natural to see her.
But even in a bustling crowd, no one could possibly miss her.Moonlight cast a silvery glow, making her skin appear almost translucent. Her face was like an exquisitely carved crystal flower, flawless in every way.
As she moved, her lake-blue skirt swayed gently, the gauzy sleeves fluttering as if she might ride the wind and depart at any moment.
Below the bridge, a five-colored carp flicked its tail and sank deep into the cloud-like waters, too shy to look upon her.
Yet Song Qianji frowned after just one glance.
Why would Miaoyan be here?
When Song Qianji saw Miaoyan, she saw him as well.
Her first reaction was annoyance—if those two dull-witted Huawei Sect disciples suddenly started shouting excitedly or even tumbled off the bridge in their fervor, she couldn’t very well leave them to their fate.
But if she intervened, it might lead to even more trouble.
Then she noticed Song Qianji standing behind the two.
He wore a worn outer robe, clearly out of place here, yet he appeared completely at ease.
His gaze was calm, devoid of any astonishment or infatuation. His first reaction had actually been to frown.
Though subtle, Miaoyan was skilled at detecting the slightest shifts in expression—not an innate intuition, but a carefully honed ability.
His expression was as if… he had seen a misplaced ornament.
In truth, Miaoyan had long known that not everyone enjoyed looking at her.
Take, for instance, the Taoist priests of Purple Cloud Temple or the monks of Red Leaf Temple. Even when sharing the same space with her, they would affect an attitude of "turning a blind eye and a deaf ear."
As if only by doing so could they prove their unwavering devotion or transcendent Buddha-nature, unswayed by a mere beautiful facade.
But this person was neither a priest nor a monk, nor did he possess profound cultivation.
He appeared to be fourteen or fifteen, an age when youths are typically restless and least disciplined.
A lowly Outer Sect disciple—why would he frown at the sight of her, and what gave him the right to frown?
The doubt stirred a faint, subtle discomfort in her heart.
Yet on the surface, her smile remained faint, almost imperceptible, her demeanor as flawless as ever.
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