When Zhao Jiheng was brought to the Discipline Hall, he was still shouting curses:
"How dare you treat me like this? I'll tell my uncle!"
"Enough!" Zhao Yuping rubbed his temples.
They were all around the same age, so why was Song Qianji so cunning and difficult to deal with? Meng Heze, when enraged, didn't seem human but more like a red-eyed beast.
Only his own nephew was the biggest fool, eagerly offering himself up as a target.
Fortunately, the family had no shortage of outstanding younger generations to carry on the legacy, so losing Zhao Jiheng wasn't a big loss. This thought brought him some comfort.
He hailed from the Zhao Family of Qing'an County in the Northern Sky Continent, albeit from a collateral branch. Zhao Taiji, the Peak Lord of Chishui Peak in the Huawei Sect, was the true legitimate descendant of the main family.
But the Zhao Family was a renowned cultivation clan, an aristocratic family that controlled the entire Qing'an County. Even collateral branches had the backing of a powerful tree, making it easier for them to rise above ordinary cultivators.
"Don't provoke Song Qianji anymore. From now on, if you encounter him, pretend you didn't see him. Understand?" Zhao Yuping wanted to offer some guidance, but when he met his nephew's angry, aggrieved, tear-filled eyes, he could only sigh wearily again:
"Forget it, go have fun. Don't come back too late. You've just entered the Inner Sect, so make a good impression on your master and senior brothers."
Zhao Jiheng received a heavy bag of Spirit Stones, and his resentful expression instantly changed. Muttering, "It's been days since I last saw the ladies, I wonder how they're doing," he bounded down the stairs with light steps, his robes fluttering.
"Congratulations, sir." Only then did the young Deacon dare to approach and offer flattery.
"What is there to congratulate?" Zhao Yuping sneered. "Do you think just because Jiheng entered the Inner Sect and we've made peace with Song Qianji, everything is fine now?"
"Song Qianji accepted the gift just now and thanked us quite politely..."
"Did you look closely into his eyes?" Zhao Yuping shook his head. "People like him are deep-minded and resourceful. Once you've made an enemy of them, you can't afford to let them live. If you don't strike first, he'll come for you sooner or later!"
The young Deacon's heart tightened, and cold sweat broke out. If anything happened to Zhao Yuping, it would be small fry like them who'd be pushed out to take the blame.
"What are you afraid of? This isn't my idea." Zhao Yuping pointed a single finger upward. "It's from above."
The young Deacon glanced quickly in the direction of Chishui Peak before lowering his head again.
At the Cosmos Palace, Zhao Taiji had been moved to kill Song Qianji and had drawn his sword in anger. Later, when True Person Xuyun changed his mind and decided to keep Song Qianji until the Grand Audience Assembly, it undoubtedly left Zhao Taiji deeply dissatisfied.
Very few people knew about this. Aside from the seven people present in the hall that night, only Zhao Yuping was aware.
Suddenly, a Deacon hurried in and whispered into Zhao Yuping's ear.
Zhao Yuping was momentarily stunned, his expression one of astonishment, before he burst into laughter:
"He really said that?"
"Absolutely true! Almost all the Outer Sect disciples and about a dozen Discipline Hall disciples heard it."
Zhao Yuping narrowed his eyes.
Just when he was worrying about finding a suitable blade, Song Qianji had handed him one. It was almost too considerate.
Without her fervent, well-born followers, where would Fairy Miaoyan's reputation as the "Number One Beauty" come from?
Many regarded Fairy Miaoyan's honor as more important than their own.
To show disrespect to Fairy Miaoyan was more serious than disrespecting them personally.
They held the power of discourse among the younger generation in the Cultivation World. When they expressed their liking for someone, they wouldn't allow others to express dislike.
If a male cultivator spoke ill of Miaoyan, they would go to "reason" with him; if a female cultivator did so, she would be labeled as narrow-minded and jealous.
Over time, no one was willing to speak ill of Miaoyan in public.
Only Song Qianji, who had no idea what madness had taken him now.This matter wasn't like leaping off Broken Mountain Cliff—though it appeared suicidal, it could actually lead to a path of survival.
Song Qianji's momentary verbal indulgence was bound to bring him endless trouble.
"Someone always arrives early for the Grand Audience Assembly," Zhao Yuping asked, "When will the people from Azure Cliff Academy and Celestial Sound Sect arrive?"
"In ten days."
"Too slow. Arrange a Cloud Ship to fetch them."
The young deacon nodded repeatedly.
Zhao Yuping took out his tea set and began boiling water, finally instructing:
"Before they arrive, I want everyone in Huawel Sect, from Inner Sect to Outer Sect, top to bottom, to know what Song Qianji said."
The carved five-colored glass cup paired with spring's fresh tea leaves.
The amber-hued tea reflected the delicate pink peach blossoms outside the window. He hadn't even taken a sip yet, but was already intoxicated.
What a fine "beauty is but a skeleton" indeed.
※※※
Song Qianji was shaving bamboo strips and building a fence.
Meng Heze wheeled his chair after him, wanting to help but unable to intervene, only occasionally handing over a hemp rope or a pair of scissors.
"Senior Brother Song, aren't you practicing swordplay?" Meng Heze followed for a long while before finally unable to restrain his curiosity, "Aren't you circulating Spirit Qi? Aren't you meditating and cultivating?"
"No."
"Is it because I'm here and it's inconvenient? Then I'll leave immediately."
Song Qianji had to explain: "I just don't feel like practicing today."
Meng Heze felt troubled.
Not wanting to cultivate was a terrible thing. If it were anyone else, he would definitely urge them to stand up—laziness never ends well!
But this was Senior Brother Song.
Senior Brother Song had been excessively diligent and disciplined before, long overdue for a rest.
It really didn't matter if he didn't practice. He himself would cultivate diligently to protect him. He would work hard to save money to buy elixirs and Spirit Herbs for him.
He would strive to become stronger to help him find a cultivation partner... well, that might not be possible yet.
But in any case, he could help him advance on the immortal path.
Meng Heze had managed to rationalize all of Song Qianji's unusual behavior through self-justification, except for one thing that still stuck in his heart:
"Senior Brother Song, why did you say those words before?"
"Which words?"
"Beauty is but a skeleton, Miao, Miao..." He couldn't bring himself to utter the second half, instead making soft meowing sounds.
His meowing made Song Qianji burst into laughter, his hands shaking so much he ruined a fresh green bamboo strip.
Meng Heze grew anxious: "Why don't you like Fairy Miaoyan? She's the most beautiful in the world!"
Song Qianji countered: "What is beauty?"
Meng Heze was momentarily stunned by the question, staring at him in surprise.
Song Qianji rephrased: "Why do you think Miaoyan is beautiful?"
"Does that even need a reason? We've known since we first entered the Cultivation World."
Meng Heze had originally thought this was like the sun rising in the east and setting in the west, or using Spirit Stones for cultivation—Miaoyan's beauty was simply a fundamental truth. "Her appearance is flawless, her talent high, she's accomplished in music, kind and gentle..."
"Are all these things true?" Song Qianji continued shaving bamboo strips briskly, "Have you seen them with your own eyes? You know Zhou Xiaoyun much better than you know her, so why don't you think Zhou Xiaoyun is the most beautiful in the world?"
Meng Heze said blankly: "But everyone says she's beautiful."
"Because many people praise and admire her, so you think she's beautiful?" Song Qianji said, "Then do you like her, or do you like others' admiration, do you like her reputation?"
"I don't know. This really can't withstand scrutiny, you're confusing me!"
Meng Heze frowned in distress.
He couldn't answer Song Qianji's questions.
What is beauty? Who decided that Miaoyan represents beauty?"How could I know if she matches my aesthetic when I've never even seen her?"
A flash of insight suddenly struck Meng Heze, and he exclaimed, "Wait, I don't even have an aesthetic!"
Miaoyan represented the aesthetic of upper-class cultivators. In this world, they were the ones who decided what was beautiful and what was ugly.
A sour bitterness welled up in his heart. Life was already hard enough for us low-level cultivators, toiling away for you every day. Must you even dictate the standards of "beauty"?
Song Qianji wound the hemp rope around bamboo strips, tying them tightly one by one:
"Miaoyan has mastered the Heavenly Sound Technique. Although her cultivation is high, she isn't particularly aggressive. Listening to her zither music can enhance one's cultivation; she's beautiful yet understanding, never arguing over right and wrong; she comes from a noble background yet is gentle and serene, seemingly unconcerned with matters beyond her music...
"So to sum it up in nine words: beautiful, useful, and hassle-free."
Meng Heze was stunned by this explanation: "So they don't truly like Miaoyan either—they praise her only because it benefits them."
"The more a female cultivator resembles Miaoyan, the more she is praised." Song Qianji, head bowed as he adjusted the fence, said calmly, "Miaoyan is a ruler measuring perfection, an illusion onto which fantasies are projected—anything but a real person. It's unfair to her, but it's also a path she chose herself."
"I feel like... you understand her quite well," Meng Heze murmured to himself.
By now, Song Qianji had finished setting up two rows of bamboo fencing.
He didn't have any seeds yet. After searching the entire house, all he could find were three potatoes.
The potatoes had sprouted a few clusters of pale green shoots. The more he looked at them, the more endearing they seemed, so he decided to plant them first.
"Senior Brother Song, since you don't like Miaoyan!" Meng Heze had intended to share his indignation, "Then from today on, I also won't, won't li..."
The boy stammered for a long time but found it difficult to say something against his true feelings.
Song Qianji finally set down his precious potatoes and turned to look at him.
"If you were forty or four hundred years old, I might advise you to let it go. But you're only fourteen. So if you like something, say it loudly. If you want something, fight for it with all your might.
"If you make a mistake, correct it. If you cause trouble, face the consequences. Don't worry about anyone else, and especially don't worry about me."
In this vast world, youth holds the greatest power.
As long as Meng Heze didn't become the Lord of the heretical path in this lifetime, he could do whatever he wanted.
The boy's eyes lit up, and he shouted, "I want to participate in the Grand Audience Assembly!"
"Good."
"I want to apprentice under the most powerful master!"
"Excellent."
"I want to become a great person!"
"Fine."
Meng Heze's voice suddenly softened: "And I also want to marry a beautiful Dao companion. Being envied by everyone is still better than being bullied by everyone."
"I'm not your father!" Song Qianji threw the potato, "You don't have to tell me everything!"
After throwing it, he quickly picked it back up.
Song Qianji gently touched the tender sprouts, worried: "I hope it wasn't damaged."
The freshly turned soil was soft and clean, warmed by the gentle sunlight like a fluffy quilt, emitting the unique fragrance of earth.
He cut the sprouted potatoes into pieces, each with a few bud eyes, dug holes, and buried them in the soil.
Spring was a good time to plant potatoes.
With just a few spring rains, they would sprout lush green leaves and bloom pale purple flowers.
Just like Meng Heze now—dusty-faced and daydreaming.
But all he needed was a favorable wind, and he would surely soar to great heights, rising straight to the heavens."Senior Brother Song, I was wrong, please don't be angry." Meng Heze sat in his wheelchair, watching Song Qianji personally shovel soil to fill the plot, feeling even more guilty:
"Once I recover from my injuries, I'll tend the fields for you!"
Song Qianji was startled.
I was kindly comforting you, and you actually covet my land?
I only have this small palm-sized vegetable garden. If you plant here, what will I plant?!
"Go back to the medical hall to recuperate." Song Qianji smiled, sincerely discouraging him, "Don't come here until you've fully recovered."
Meng Heze, deeply moved, nodded repeatedly.
Song Qianji had forgotten that this kid possessed the red jade Buddhist beads. Though not as potent as the "Fountain of Immortality," they were still a superior magical artifact that protected the owner and enhanced recovery.
Coupled with Meng Heze's robust foundation, in just two days, he had bounced back energetically with a group of outer sect disciples.
"Senior Brother Song, news of the Grand Assembly of Distinguished Appraisals was announced today at the Deacon Hall." Zhou Xiaoyun presented a piece of paper as if offering a treasure, "We copied one for you. All the rules of the event are here, not a single character missing or altered!"
Song Qianji was watering the potatoes in the field. Although this paper was useless to him, he still accepted it with both hands and expressed his thanks.
Rumors had already spread from the inner sect a few days earlier. When the news of the assembly was officially announced, it still caused a huge stir in the outer sect.
This decade's grand event in the Cultivation World was hosted by the Huawel Sect this time.
Even outer sect disciples of the host sect could register to participate. Even without competing, merely attending as ordinary spectators would be eye-opening enough to reminisce for a lifetime.
Meng Heze was radiant with vigor, showing no traces of injury. One could only notice he had grown slightly taller and his physique appeared more robust:
"There are four main categories: zither, chess, calligraphy and painting, and exhibition matches. I've studied them carefully, and our best bet is to register for the exhibition matches. Senior Brother Song, shall I go register for you?"
Song Qianji: "I'll register for calligraphy and painting."
Meng Heze was shocked: "No!"
"Before coming up the mountain, I also enjoyed painting flowers, birds, fish, and insects at home." Zhou Xiaoyun tactfully dissuaded him, "But this calligraphy and painting isn't the same as that. Most who register for this category are scholars from Azure Cliff Academy, who specialize in drawing talismans daily with forceful brushstrokes. We amateur enthusiasts can't compete with them."
Meng Heze continued persuading: "Then there are the zither and chess categories. Superficially, they're about playing music and playing chess, but they actually test celestial sound techniques, formation arrays, and deduction. Most participants are cultivators from the Celestial Sound Sect and Purple Cloud Temple - we can't compete there either."
Ascending the heights to make one's name known throughout the world.
Elegant assembly - whether truly refined in taste or merely pretending - had many conventions regardless. It couldn't be as bloody and brutal as martial arts competitions.
They could have directly competed in celestial sound techniques, formation array mastery, and talisman drawing, but instead they insisted on comparing musical performance, chess playing, and calligraphy with painting.
The only exhibition matches left for martial cultivators to demonstrate their skills also had to be fought pleasing to the eye to qualify as "performances."
Song Qianji could understand. If those disciples from prestigious families and great sects also had to fight bloody, life-or-death battles for a magical artifact or a piece of territory, how would they differ from rogue cultivators like them with mud on their boots?
"It's fine. I'll register for calligraphy and painting."
Whether it was playing an entire musical piece or finishing a complete chess game, both were too slow and troublesome. Only the rules for calligraphy and painting were simplest - one could just casually write a few strokes.
Meng Heze worried: "Do you know how to draw talismans?"
Song Qianji: "A little."
Having originated as a rogue cultivator, his mastery of techniques was scattered - he knew a bit of everything.Yet this kind of leisurely and refined gathering had nothing to do with his previous life.
He was always fleeing for his life, rushing on journeys, struggling to survive, and fighting battles—never stopping, and never able to stop.
Song Qianji thought, Chen Hongzhu only said to stay until the Grand Audience Assembly concludes.
But if I refuse to wield my sword, what can Xu Yun and the others do to me?
They all fear Xian Jianchen.
Song Qianji did not. Because until his death on the snowy plains in his past life, there had been no news of Xian Jianchen—whether he was alive or dead remained unknown.
After all, Wei Zhenyu, the "Savior," was Heaven's favored son.
Once the Sword God had bestowed him with a golden finger, his role was complete—he could not steal the spotlight.
In truth, it wasn't just Xian Jianchen.
Back when Song Qianji was still struggling at the bottom, the Cultivation World spoke of "One Immortal, One Devil, One Sage, One God"—referring to the four Transformation Realm powerhouses: Qin Xian, Chess Devil, Calligrapher Sage, and Sword God.
These four peerless masters, simply because they "took a liking" to the Savior, passed on their lifelong knowledge to him without seeking anything in return.
After leaving their legacies, some of them passed away peacefully, some fell due to illness, and some went into seclusion...
Later, it was the younger generation's turn to flourish.
Meng Zhengxian, the "Lord of the heretical path," stirred up trouble, while Song Qianji, the "Undying in a Hundred Battles," commanded the masses.
After a brief period of glory, they fell like shooting stars.
Amidst the shifting tides, the Savior Wei Zhenyu arrived belatedly, propping up the collapsing world and winning the hearts of all.
After his death, Song Qianji glimpsed fragments of the river of time and deduced from the details that Wei Zhenyu was at most a few years younger than him—likely of the same generation.
But with such immense luck, how could this person have remained obscure in the early days?
After his rebirth, he came to understand: if Meng Zhengxian could have originally been named Meng Heze, perhaps Wei Zhenyu had also changed his name.
It was highly likely that he had operated under a disguise, quietly amassing power in the early stages, only to erupt suddenly and emerge spectacularly later.
At the Grand Assembly of Distinguished Appraisals, many who had either wanted to kill him or had been killed by him in his past life were about to appear once again.
Song Qianji had no desire to see any of them.
He only wanted to catch a distant glimpse of that Heaven's favored, luck-blessed son.
Wei Zhenyu, will you come?
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