Song Qianji's furrowed brows quickly smoothed out.
Tomorrow he would descend the mountain and begin a brand new life.
Even if Miaoyan came to Huawel Sect's Main Peak with a cartload of gunpowder, it had nothing to do with him anymore.
Cultivators valued the four treasures: "Wealth, Companionship, Techniques, and Land." In his previous life, he had already possessed immense wealth, excellent feng shui sites, and a lifebound magical artifact—all he lacked was a cultivation partner.
He had wanted to marry Miaoyan, and coincidentally she had been willing to marry him, so they set a wedding date.
Only after death did he realize it had been his own wishful thinking, a complete misunderstanding.
It wasn't just Miaoyan—all the grudges and grievances from his past life, he hadn't forgiven or forgotten them, but he simply didn't want to delay this lifetime and couldn't be bothered to dwell on or entangle with them anymore.
Miaoyan had become to him like mist over vanishing waters, yesterday's faded flower.
Passing by each other on this Fleeting Water Bridge, they would never meet again in this life.
From now on, you play your zither, I till my land.
Our well water shall not encroach on immortal waters.
"Stop staring," Song Qianji urged the two in front of him. "Let's go."
The two messenger disciples snapped out of their daze, gasping "Ah!" in surprise. Immediately feeling they had been rude to the beauty, they blushed crimson, fidgeting awkwardly as they lowered their heads and dawdled.
Song Qianji had no choice but to take the lead.
"Halt!"
A sharp feminine cry.
The two messenger disciples trembled, looking up to see a red-clad woman leap out from behind Miaoyan.
The woman wore a soft whip at her waist, her willow-leaf eyebrows arched sharply, the corners of her eyes slender and upturned, her aura fierce and imposing.
It turned out Miaoyan's tall figure, with her fluttering skirt and sleeve veils, had completely blocked this petite woman from view.
The former wore blue, the latter red—one like tranquil lake waters, the other like a burning red lotus.
The messenger disciples bowed in greeting: "Senior Sister Chen."
Under her glare, they immediately corrected themselves: "Young Miss."
Song Qianji suddenly understood why she looked familiar—she was Chen Hongzhu, the only daughter of Sect Master True Person Xuyun.
At this time, Huawel Sect showed no signs of decline yet, and Chen Hongzhu got whatever she wanted.
More noble than any mortal princess, and with a worse temper too.
She coldly assessed Song Qianji: "You're the Outer Sect disciple who just passed a note to my father?"
Song Qianji: "That's me."
Chen Hongzhu snorted lightly: "Who knows what nonsense you wrote, making the fairy's entire night of zither playing completely wasted."
Though her words were accusatory, she glanced at Fairy Miaoyan with a gleam of schadenfreude in her eyes.
Miaoyan's expression remained unchanged: "Tomorrow night at this time, I shall come again to replay it."
With that, she drifted away gracefully.
The two messenger disciples looked utterly bewildered, unable to understand what they were talking about.
Song Qianji knew perfectly well but could only pretend ignorance.
So Miaoyan had come to help that old man Xuyun regulate his breathing.
That made sense—Miaoyan's master, Fairy Wangshu, had been close friends with Xuyun for years, and Miaoyan herself had deep connections with Huawel Sect.
Miaoyan practiced the "Heavenly Tone Technique," whose music could both assist in battle, disrupt mental focus, and also pacify turbulent spirit qi, helping to regulate internal energy.
After Xuyun failed his breakthrough to the Transformation Stage, his realm became unstable. Unwilling to let outsiders know, he had been living in seclusion, rarely receiving guests.
But with the Grand Audience Assembly approaching and various sects gathering at Huawel Sect, no matter how low-profile Xuyun tried to be, he needed to make a few appearances to avoid suspicion.
Wanting to use the Heavenly Tone Technique to quickly regulate his breathing, he had his daughter invite Miaoyan to Huawel Sect under the pretext of missing her close friend.
Tonight, Song Qianji's single note had suddenly disturbed Xuyun's mental state, causing Miaoyan's Heavenly Tone Technique to fail.
After piecing together the cause and effect, Song Qianji couldn't help but look at Chen Hongzhu with a "pitying the fool" expression.
Miaoyan's playing was wasted, but isn't your father the one who suffers?
What are you so happy about?
Isn't Miaoyan your cousin? What great grudge could you two possibly have?Chen Hongzhu unexpectedly met that gaze and froze for a moment.
When she walked alongside Miaoyan, people would only look at Miaoyan. That was why she hated walking shoulder-to-shoulder with the number one beauty—she either walked ahead or lingered a few steps behind.
But this person was different. Chen Hongzhu thought, he frowned at his first glance of Miaoyan, yet looked at me with pity in his eyes...
When Huawel Sect disciples looked at me, they were always fearful. When my senior brothers and father looked at me, they were always indulgent and doting.
Absurd, since when do I need pity from an outer sect disciple?
A blush spread across her cheeks, followed by a surge of fury:
"How dare you! What are you staring at!"
Song Qianji lowered his eyes and smiled faintly: "My apologies."
"What are you laughing at!" The red-clad girl whipped her lash against the white jade railing with a sharp crack. hetushu.com
Below the bridge, the five-colored carp startled, leaping through the sea of clouds.
Song Qianji didn't argue with her, merely ceasing his smile.
The two messenger disciples witnessing this felt immense sympathy for Song Qianji:
This man was already taking the blame for his unlucky friend Meng Heze, and had miraculously begged for a slim chance of survival. If he were to be whipped by Chen the Tyrant for no reason now, there would truly be nowhere to seek justice.
The taller one mustered his courage: "Young mistress, he's just an outer sect disciple, it's his first time entering the Main Peak, he doesn't understand any of the rules here. Please be lenient."
The shorter one chimed in: "The Sect Leader is still waiting..."
"Silence!" Chen Hongzhu impatiently cut them off, glaring at Song Qianji: "Don't let me see you again!"
The red-clad girl swung her whip and strode away quickly.
After running twenty-three steps, she couldn't help but stop and glance back.
The man's figure gradually receded into the distance, his shadow stretching long in the moonlight.
The Fleeting Water Bridge, enhanced by formations, remained spotlessly clean. Yet mud stains clung to his cloth shoes, leaving faint marks on the white jade bridge surface as he walked.
The mud prints were shallow but glaring.
But he showed no discomfort at all, walking steadily.
Chen Hongzhu frowned.
She knew her father well. Her father possessed profound cultivation, had weathered countless storms, and remained unflinching even if Mount Tai collapsed before him.
Even when his expressions shifted with joy or anger, his thoughts remained calm like an unrippled lake.
But tonight, her father had closed his eyes and apologized to Miaoyan with an expressionless face.
Thus the zither music fell silent, and Miaoyan bowed before taking her leave.
A drifting cloud passed by, obscuring the retreating figure at the bridge's end from view.
"What exactly did you write on that note of yours?"
※※※
When Song Qianji saw the gates of Cosmos Palace, the two disciples were more nervous than he was.
"Do you usually go to the gambling dens down the mountain?" the taller one asked.
"What?"
The shorter one explained: "You're an outer sect disciple, yet the first time you enter the Inner Sect, you get to visit the Main Peak; the first time you visit the Main Peak, you get to meet Fairy Miaoyan. Even after being harassed by Chen the Tyr— no, Senior Sister Chen, you didn't lose a single hair. With such one-in-ten-thousand luck, you could walk into any gambling den blindfolded and come out loaded!"
Song Qianji shook his head with a faint smile: "My luck has always been terrible."
"Don't be modest! If you can walk out of this Cosmos Palace completely unscathed, we'll follow your bets in the gambling dens for life!"
A Daoist page approached with lowered eyes. The two disciples stopped outside the palace gates, waving vigorously at him:
"We'll be waiting right here for you!"
The great hall stood empty and silent, lantern lights flickering nervously, curtains hanging low.
The heavy doors closed behind him.
Song Qianji gathered his focus, playing the part of an outer sect disciple who had suddenly encountered extraordinary fortune, and bowed properly:
"This disciple pays respects to the Sect Leader!"
A gaze pierced through the drifting silk curtains and settled upon him.The figure behind the curtain, though seated, loomed like a great mountain.
His gaze carried weight, sharp as a blade, piercing through to one's very core.
Song Qianji maintained his bow, silently forcing cold sweat to bead on his forehead.
Xu Yun observed the young man before him.
By all appearances, this was nothing more than a low-level Outer Sect disciple.
There were no signs of possession by an old ghost or any discord between soul and body. He was so fragile that Xu Yun could snuff him out with a single finger.
Had this been an Inner Sect disciple, every detail—from his birth date and personality to his daily routine, the one who recruited him, his ancestral home, and even his worldly connections—would have been compiled into a thick dossier and placed on Xu Yun’s desk within the time it took to drink half a cup of tea.
But Song Qianji was an inconspicuous Outer Sect disciple, and his records were sparse.
Fifteen years old, he had been on the mountain for three years. Diligent, single-mindedly focused on entering the Inner Sect. Solitary and unlikable, he even had some friction with Chief Steward Zhao.
What Zhao Yuping thought Xu Yun didn’t know, Xu Yun actually knew all along.
As long as the Outer Sect remained stable and no major issues arose, he was willing to turn a blind eye to minor matters. Otherwise, who would work tirelessly in a position with no perks?
Though the Cosmos Palace floated above the clouds, the vast quantities of Spirit Stones needed to sustain the cloud formation came from the unfathomably deep mines below.
Xu Yun understood well: if a cultivator’s eyes could not tolerate even a grain of sand, if their heart held only the pursuit of the Dao and immortality, without understanding strategy, management, or the art of recognizing and employing talent—then they were only suited to be a carefree elder or a lone powerhouse, not a Sect Leader.
Especially not the leader of a behemoth like the Huawel Sect.
Before Song Qianji entered the hall, Xu Yun had thought this young man was simple, without any secrets.
But now, face to face, he felt a faint unease.
Those with high cultivation sensed the world’s rhythms, avoiding misfortune and pursuing fortune, never dismissing their intuition.
"Rise."
The pressure on Song Qianji lifted as a calm, aged voice spoke, "What is the meaning of the phrase you wrote?"
"This disciple does not know."
Xu Yun was satisfied with this answer, his tone softening further, like a kindly old man:
"If you do not know, why did you show it to me?"
"A person told this disciple. He said, if the opportunity arose, to relay this message to the Sect Leader."
"What person? Where did you meet him?"
"Seven days ago, before dawn, as I rose to practice swordplay, a figure suddenly appeared on the courtyard wall and spoke to me. The Grand Formation showed no reaction, and he sat boldly on the wall, so I assumed he was an elder of our sect and bowed to him. His first words were, 'Young man, you won’t achieve anything practicing like this...'"
In front of someone as astute and powerful as Xu Yun, even the most rehearsed lie would be seen through in an instant.
So Song Qianji truly was recalling.
Recalling fragments from the river of time—the appearance and attire of the "Savior’s" master.
And the conversation that had taken place when he first met the Savior himself.
Song Qianji’s speech was erratic, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, disjointed—which only made it more believable.
At the very least, Xu Yun was half-convinced, already considering three or four possible candidates in his mind.
Some powerful experts were unrestrained and unconventional; passing by another sect and impulsively guiding an Outer Sect disciple was not entirely absurd.
The Huawel Sect’s truly formidable formations were in the Inner Sect; the Outer Sect formations were as fragile as thin paper before a Transformation Stage expert.
Since that person had left such a message, it indicated no ill intent.Xu Yun smiled and asked, "He taught you, and you learned. Ignorance is no crime, so I don't blame you. Do you still remember what he looked like?"
Song Qianji replied, "He wore his hair in a single topknot, his robes were tattered, but he had pinned a wildflower to his front lapel. He didn't carry a sword, yet claimed to be the strongest swordsman in the world."
Behind the curtains, Xu Yun's face suddenly turned pale.
Song Qianji continued, "He was always smiling, as if born with a cheerful face. He carried a small wine jar at his waist and took a sip after every few words."
Xu Yun's wrinkled face began to tremble slightly, a flicker of fear appearing in his eyes.
"Oh, I remember now. He said his name was..." Song Qianji opened his mouth, about to utter a name.
"Wait!" A sharp cry suddenly rang out.
Song Qianji's mind shook.
Had Xu Yun detected the Fountain of Immortality within him?
How could he, not yet at the Transformation Stage, see through such a heaven-and-earth treasure like the Fountain of Immortality?
If not for a full day of harmonizing, allowing his own aura to merge completely with the Fountain of Immortality in his Purple Palace, Song Qianji wouldn't have dared to risk coming to the Cosmos Palace.
Many escape plans flashed through his mind, but he didn't act recklessly.
He simply continued to speak the name.
As if he couldn't stop himself in time, an unintentional slip.
So his voice was very soft, very weak:
"Xian Jianchen."
As soon as the name left his lips, the bright moon outside the palace suddenly dimmed.
A great wind swept up, crushing the flowing clouds!
"Bang!"
All the windows in the palace flew open, a fierce cold wind surged in, silk curtains tore apart, and every candle extinguished.
"Boom!"
A thunderbolt struck the Cosmos Palace!
The entire cloud formation trembled!
Five streaks of light flew from five mountain peaks, arriving in an instant, breaking through the palace doors!
True Person Xuyun drew his sword, pointing it at the sky!
But heaven's collapse and earth's shattering lasted only a moment. By the time his sword left its sheath and the five Peak Lords broke through the palace doors, the inexplicable gale had already ceased.
The dark clouds dispersed, the bright moon reappeared.
The overturned cosmos returned to normal.
Only the chaotic wreckage in the palace and the echoing thunder proved it hadn't been an illusion.
One Peak Lord shouted furiously:
"Who? Who spoke that name?!"
Song Qianji was also stunned.
So there really were people in this world whose mere mention brought down thunder.
Savior Master, Xian Jianchen, you truly live up to your name.
Xu Yun remained frozen in his sword-drawing stance.
As if that person was sitting right there on the ruins before him, smiling cheerfully:
"Don't be afraid, I really don't want to kill you all, and I won't come back anymore. I leave Huawel Sect to you.
"But I'm the kind of person who doesn't like others talking behind my back. So from now on, you must never mention my name in this Cosmos Palace, understand?
"Don't just nod, can someone say something intelligible?"
Xu Yun heard his own faint voice:
"I, I understand."
"Good. This jar of wine is for you. You there, you'll be the sect leader from now on."
Two hundred years had passed, yet this scene felt like only yesterday.
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