Song Qianji slept peacefully through the night, his mind free of worries and troubles.
Yet on this intoxicating spring night with gentle breezes and bright moonlight, many found sleep elusive.
The Six Sages of Green Cliff could not sleep.
Though utterly exhausted, their vibrant green robes had lost their luster, clinging wrinkled to their bodies like withered pickled vegetables.
Recalling the day's events still sent shivers down their spines.
"From the way that Song fellow spoke, could he actually be familiar with the Courtyard Overseer?" the youth in spring-green robes said with difficulty. "Everything we know about him comes solely from the Huawel Sect deacons. What if he's..."
"Just bluffing! If he truly came from a notable background, why would he stay in the Huawel Sect's Outer Sect as a mere disciple?" retorted another in pea-green brocade.
"But he doesn't work or cultivate. He just closes his gate and farms all day, living comfortably like an ancestor. What kind of outer sect disciple is that?"
"Even the monster masks didn't frighten him. Should we just let this go?"
"We can't let it go!" the pale-green robed youth slammed the table and stood up.
According to the original plan, Song Qianji, frightened, would attack He Qingqing. Then they would "stand up for their junior sister" and collectively summon their magical artifacts to teach Song Qianji a harsh lesson.
They'd vent their anger while maintaining the moral high ground. Since Song Qianji struck first, according to the rules during the assembly, he would be the one punished.
Therefore, before going to Song Courtyard, they had spread the news, hoping as many witnesses as possible would see this scene.
Besides Huawel Sect outer sect disciples, many others had indeed seen or heard about the incident.
If they couldn't reclaim their dignity, they'd likely be mocked behind their backs forever. How could they hold their heads high among the second-generation nobles of the entire cultivation world?
At this point, the matter had little to do with Miaoyan anymore—it had become personal.
"I've had my page gather every detail about this person," the pale-green robed youth said, pulling a stack of papers from his sleeve.
"Know yourself and know your enemy, and you will never be defeated. Today we were just careless, letting him seize the advantage. Actually, this Song fellow isn't frightening at all—his weaknesses are quite obvious!"
They grabbed the papers, scanning them rapidly, their eyes gradually lighting up.
The pale-green robed youth spoke slowly:
"That fierce youth beside him is named Meng Heze. During the outer sect entrance exam, he fought three hundred consecutive matches single-handedly, defeating everyone in the outer sect. Meanwhile, Song Qianji was injured and didn't participate. Since then, no one has seen Song Qianji cultivate—he never practices swordplay anymore. He's busy farming every day..."
"In cultivation, those who don't advance will fall behind. Song Qianji has decent talent and can guide other outer sect disciples, but he's all talk without practice. His actual combat ability must be low!"
The atmosphere finally grew lively again.
"At first, seeing his deep authority in the outer sect, we thought he was someone formidable. Turns out he just hides behind others, relying on their protection!"
"The outer sect is Song Qianji's home ground. We need to find a way to separate Meng Heze from him, lure him out alone to a secluded place... We'll be careful to leave no evidence, so he'll have to swallow his bitterness in silence."
Someone complained with a laugh:
"Acting within someone else's sect is truly troublesome. Fortunately, it's not completely hopeless."
"Oh, one more thing," another said with slight concern.
"When I returned earlier, I was so angry that I smashed Junior Sister He's qin. She ran off—could she have gone to report us...?"
The pale-green robed youth waved his folding fan dismissively. "Someone like Junior Sister He—even if you flattened and kneaded her like dough, and lent her eighty extra doses of courage, she wouldn't dare report us.""You're absolutely right! Hahaha!"
They burst into raucous laughter.
Zhao Yuping was equally unable to sleep.
He was brewing tea for another person, trembling with fear and reverence.
Though the man sat upright sipping tea, he resembled a violently burning flame, ready to erupt and kill at any moment.
Who would have thought that Zhao Taiji, one of Huawel Sect's Peak Lords, would condescend to drink tea in the Deacon Hall this night?
In the deep silence of midnight, who wouldn't prefer to meditate and cultivate, breathing in the Spirit Qi of heaven and earth?
This was all Song Qianji's fault.
The two deacons who received the six visitors from Green Cliff during the day had been dispatched by Zhao Yuping.
The information about Song Qianji that the six managed to obtain was also secretly provided under his direction. To prevent them from having reservations, he even concealed part of Chen Hongzhu's involvement.
This was only the beginning.
Song Qianji proved more difficult to deal with than they had imagined.
How could a fifteen-year-old youth remain so composed?
Such people held grudges the longest. This matter could never end peacefully.
They had no choice but to take action, risking that person's wrath.
"You were the first to scheme against him, and I was the one who drew my sword against him in Cosmos Palace! Therefore, the grudge isn't with the Sect Leader, nor with Huawel Sect—it's with our Zhao Family of Tianbei Prefecture. Understand?" Zhao Taiji set down his teacup and spoke coldly.
"Don't harbor any illusions, and absolutely don't let him become the second..." His lips moved slightly, silently forming three syllables:
"Xian. Jian. Chen."
Even outside Cosmos Palace, without the threat of thunder hanging overhead, no one wanted to utter that name lightly.
"Once those six fools finalize their plan and make their move, we'll replace them with our own people. When uprooting weeds, you must tear out the roots!"
Zhao Yuping remained deferential throughout, none of his usual arrogance showing.
Xian Jianchen was indeed terrifying, but he was far away and inaccessible. As long as they executed their scheme skillfully enough, even if Xian Jianchen took interest again and wanted to avenge his nominal disciple whom he'd met only once, his vengeance would fall on others, leaving them unscathed.
"Fortunately, it's only that person," Zhao Taiji suddenly sighed.
This Song Qianji—if you said his fate was bad, he couldn't enter the Inner Sect for three years, yet he actually encountered Xian Jianchen.
If you said his fate was good, to receive instruction from the Sword God himself, Xian Jianchen was as elusive as a dragon, wandering the four seas burdened with his own grudges—how could he spare any attention for his disciple?
"One Immortal, One Devil, One Sage, One God"—if the Sword God were replaced by any of the other three, they wouldn't be able to touch Song Qianji, wouldn't dare to, and could only resign themselves to fate.
Zhao Taiji abruptly changed the subject: "I've received reliable information that the Calligrapher Sage and Chess Devil both wish to pass on their legacies but have yet to find suitable successors. For this Grand Audience Assembly, you must arrange everything properly to promote our clan's younger generation."
After discussing plans to "eliminate enemies," it was natural to move on to strategies for "strengthening themselves."
Zhao Yuping started, remembering the two famously talented youths from the main family line, and hurriedly pledged his loyalty:
"I've heard Young Master Lin has studied formations and chess since childhood—no one in Tianbei Prefecture can defeat him. Young Master Mu has devoted himself to painting, calligraphy, and Talisman studies for seven years, almost able to create Talismans with a single brushstroke. With Huawel Sect hosting this Grand Audience Assembly, and my position in the Deacon Hall providing convenience, we have timing, location, and human factors all aligned—heaven itself is aiding our clan!"
"If even one of them catches the eye of a Great Adept and inherits their legacy, it will secure our clan's prosperity for the next two hundred years!" Zhao Taiji's expression softened slightly.
Zhao Yuping quickly added:
"Both young masters are rare geniuses. Perhaps we'll see two flowers bloom, achieving double success."
※※※The apprentice Xiao Zhuo, clutching the Profiteer Talisman as if it were a bundle of explosives, walked with his head down toward the pond's edge.
The sky was clear, the willow leaves verdant, and the sunlight gentle.
Yet the pond water was pitch black like ink, reflecting not a single ray of sunlight.
In the spring breeze, an elderly man sat fishing by the pond, his fishing line as steady as Mount Tai.
He wore a loose, comfortable white robe, as pristine and snow-white as his hair, making the pond water appear even darker, black and bottomless.
A middle-aged cultivator in blue robes stood respectfully behind him.
Three zhang behind the blue-robed cultivator, over a dozen scholars in Green Cliff attire hung their heads low. The pressure of their Nascent Soul Stage cultivation was restrained within, not daring to leak the slightest bit.
The vast Ink Pond held not a single fish.
Fortunately, the old man merely enjoyed fishing, unconcerned with whether any fish would bite.
Xiao Zhuo stood three zhang away and bowed, waiting until the blue-robed man gestured before approaching.
"Sir, Dean."
The old man seemed to awaken from a dream, appearing very kind and amiable: "Xiao Zhuo, you're here! Any news from the pawnshop?"
Xiao Zhuo steeled himself and presented the Profiteer Talisman: "There was a strange incident last night. Old Zheng fell ill from anger after seeing this talisman."
He recounted the events meticulously, leaving out no detail.
The old man half-closed his eyes, as if listening to a story.
After a long while, Xiao Zhuo thought the old man had fallen asleep and hesitated whether to remind him, when he heard the old man laugh and ask:
"Perhaps he already knows your identities. These two characters were written for me to see. Did he say anything else?"
"He made one request. He said he wanted..." Xiao Zhuo paused, feeling perplexed, "a mountain. Unless we give him a mountain, he won't pick up his brush to write talismans again."
The old man was taken aback, then suddenly burst into laughter. Ripples spread across the Ink Pond.
"Why are you laughing, sir?"
"I remembered a joke. Joy shared is joy doubled. Come closer, all of you, and listen together."
Everyone laughed before even hearing the joke. Xiao Zhuo laughed the loudest.
The Calligrapher Sage being in the mood to tell jokes was itself a great cause for celebration.
When the old man told the joke, it sounded like he was reciting from a book, his tone unhurried:
"An Immortal Official, to test the faith of the people in his territory, disguised himself as a mortal and asked a farmer: If you had a palace, would you be willing to donate it to the God Temple? The farmer immediately said yes. The Immortal Official then asked, if you had a hundred thousand Spirit Stones, would you be willing to donate them to the God Temple? The farmer again said yes.
"The Immortal Official thought with satisfaction, the people in my territory are so devout in their offerings to the God Temple, why worry about our sect's luck not being prosperous and flourishing? Finally he asked, if you had a chicken, of course you'd be willing to donate it to the God Temple too?
"Unexpectedly, the farmer shouted no! The shocked Immortal Official asked why. The farmer said, are you stupid? Because I actually have a chicken!"
Although this was a well-known old joke, everyone politely laughed heartily as if hearing it for the first time.
The Dean pondered while laughing.
The story aimed to satirize the ungrateful common people in the territory who feigned compliance while secretly resisting, insincere in their offerings to the God Temple.
What did this have to do with that strange youth demanding a mountain?
The old man set down his fishing rod and reached to feel his sleeve.
His sleeve was very wide, and he felt around for a long time, as if it contained ten thousand scrolls that had to be searched through one by one.
In the end, he only took out a small box.
The box wasn't large, square and regular, like a young girl's rouge case.
But the laughter by the pond abruptly ceased. Xiao Zhuo's face turned slightly pale.Everyone stared at the box as if it contained immense power. Once opened, whatever was inside would burst forth with earth-shattering force, like jade mountains collapsing.
The entire space of the Ink Pond would twist and collapse, and those standing by its shore would be reduced to dust.
The old man said calmly, "Have you all forgotten? I truly possess a mountain peak."
The academy head was struck speechless with shock, thinking this couldn't be real. No matter how talented that youth might be, he wouldn't dare to be so audacious.
He could have made such a request to Qin Xian, to Chess Devil, to any powerful figure in the world.
Even if the Sword God heard it, he would only laugh it off, treating it as a young person's jest.
Only the Calligrapher Sage was different.
Because he truly possessed a chicken—no, a mountain peak.
Within the box lay Painted Spring Mountain, his Mustard Seed Space, and his most powerful divine ability.
This mountain was opened by him. He relied on it for survival and had dominated the world for two centuries.
Now, a junior had spoken up, demanding this mountain from him.
"When I was fifteen, I first formed a Talisman with a single stroke of my brush. I was quite arrogant back then, demanding this 'Ink Pond' from my master. He gave it to me—not because my cultivation could control this place at the time, but because he believed that one day I would surpass him."
After saying these two sentences, the old man stood up. His back suddenly straightened, and in that instant, it was as if he had transformed from a frail elder back to the proud and unrestrained youth of his younger days.
"I want to see what ability that youngster possesses, daring to ask for my mountain peak!"
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