Painted Spring Mountain was originally a floating mountain in the sea.
The Calligrapher Sage secluded himself within the mountain to achieve a breakthrough, comprehending the laws of space. He refined this mountain, condensing it into an extremely small treasure box.
Whenever the box was opened, a majestic mountain would soar out of thin air, violently colliding with the physical space and causing widespread collapse.
With the mountain pressing down, everything turned to dust. The scene was brutal and domineering, utterly devoid of scholarly refinement.
Fortunately, such scenes had not occurred for many years.
Not because the Calligrapher Sage had grown more benevolent or tolerant with age, but because his formidable enemies had all perished. No one remained worthy of him taking action personally, let alone employing such terrifying means.
When you prove your strength, people will listen to your reasoning.
The Calligrapher Sage gradually became the most reasonable and etiquette-abiding great scholar in the world. He founded the Azure Cliff Academy, then retired after achieving his goals, passing the academy to the current dean.
Meanwhile, Painted Spring Mountain rested quietly within the treasure box. Like a fading beauty forgotten by time, with her silk skirts discolored and cosmetics case gathering dust.
The Azure Cliff Academy boasted thirty thousand blue-robed scholars. As long as the students had thick enough skin, they could all claim to be "disciples of the Calligrapher Sage," yet not one could truly inherit his legacy.
Over half the academy's students came from cultivation families, including many heaven's favorites, yet none were the successor he sought.
When the open path failed, he turned to covert methods, establishing underground shops across the Four Continents—rice stores, pawnshops, cosmetic shops, and others—engaging in shady businesses.
A year ago, he discovered Wei Ping at a cosmetic shop in Windchill City.
Now, at a pawnshop in Huawel City, he had found another youth worth observing.
"Huawel City," the old man chuckled. "Isn't this year's Grand Audience Assembly being held at the Huawel Sect?"
"Indeed," the dean replied. "Our academy's students have already arrived at the Huawel Sect. Previously, True Person Xuyun sent his head disciple with a handwritten invitation, requesting you to judge the Calligraphy and Painting Examination's champion. But you found his calligraphy too ugly and had me attend in your stead." He glanced back at the others. "The Flying Cloud Tower is ready. We were just about to depart today to reunite with our students at the Huawel Sect."
"Is that so?" The old man thought for a moment, puzzled. "I said Xuyun's handwriting was ugly?"
Everyone nodded vigorously.
"I've changed my mind!" the old man declared with utmost nonchalance. "Let's all go join the excitement."
When he said go, he meant immediately, as casually as stepping out for a stroll.
As for how his sudden visit would throw the Huawel Sect into chaos without preparation—that was someone else's problem.
A Flying Cloud Tower stirred fierce winds, soaring straight into the clouds. It flew westward toward the Huawel Sect.
News that the Calligrapher Sage would personally attend the Grand Assembly of Distinguished Appraisals spread across the Four Continents within a day.
Talismasters from everywhere rushed day and night, gathering at the foot of Huawel Sect's mountain, hoping for a chance to glimpse the Sage.
In the past, hearing about such commotion would have only annoyed and irritated the Calligrapher Sage. But now, he couldn't help laughing:
That young upstart who declared he'd take my mountain—he must be thrilled to know I'm coming, right?
What is he doing now?
Ah, probably toiling day and night, diligently drawing talismans to catch my attention.
Song Qianji sneezed.
He was indeed working hard, holding a small carving knife to engrave characters on wooden signs.
Beside many crops in his garden, delicate wooden signs were already planted in the soil, their exposed sections clearly inscribed: Eggplant, Scallion, Cabbage, Wisteria, Boston Ivy...Just as he gave names to every little life he personally cared for, he carved each wooden plaque meticulously, stroke by stroke, like carving flowers on tofu—far more attentively than when he hastily scribbled talismans at the shady inn last night.
This way, even if he encountered someone who "couldn’t tell beans from sprouts" again, they wouldn’t mix up the names.
The potatoes were the first vegetables he planted, holding special meaning, so he erected individual plaques for each potato plant: Tu One, Tu Two, Tu Three...
The pale purple petals and tender yellow centers of the potato flowers trembled lightly in the breeze, their emerald leaves brushing against the small wooden plaques at their feet as if greeting them.
"Senior Brother Song! The newly arrived seeds for today!" Meng Heze burst through the door, tossed down three or four bags of seeds, and rushed toward the stove: "I’ll cook noodles!"
Song Qianji gently blew away the wood shavings from his knife tip: "You’re about to break through. Your energy is unstable—avoid impatience these next couple of days."
"You noticed, Senior Brother?" Meng Heze felt slightly uneasy. "Will I break through smoothly?"
Song Qianji smiled: "Of course."
Meng Heze relaxed. It seemed that with just a word from the other, his tension truly melted away.
"Skip the noodles. I have to go out."
Song Qianji had finished carving all the plaques and set down his knife. Meng Heze promptly handed him a damp towel to wipe his hands: "Where are you going, Senior Brother? What needs doing? Let me handle it for you."
"Yaoguang Lake, to fetch some silt for planting lotus roots. No need for you."
Aside from the two vegetable plots outside the courtyard gate, Song Qianji’s small yard was already packed—vegetables on the ground, flowers hanging from frames, vines climbing the walls. Except for essential spaces like the stone table and reclining chair, there was no room left above or below.
Fortunately, under the eaves along the stone steps in the yard, though there was no soil, an empty strip remained, just enough to place two water vats.
He had newly acquired a bag of lotus root seeds, each smooth and plump, ready to sprout after soaking for two days—what a waste not to plant them!
Song Qianji’s hands itched, and his heart itched even more, determined to add two vats of lotus under the eaves.
But planting lotus roots couldn’t use the existing soil in the yard; the best option was aged silt from the lake bottom.
Meng Heze handed him a dry towel, grinning: "Such rough work—how could we trouble Senior Brother Song? If I just open the courtyard gate and call out, hundreds of disciples would rush to serve you!"
"Nonsense." Song Qianji lightly scolded, then left with his storage bag.
Soil, too, had life—he wanted to select it himself.
Meng Heze followed him out: "I’m not talking nonsense!"
He truly wasn’t. The Huawel Sect’s Outer Sect had changed.
Disciples left right after their daily tasks, never staying extra for meager rewards and wasting time. Those seeking answers from Song Qianji had to avoid meal hours—no one wanted to hear Senior Brother Meng shoo them away.
With Song Qianji around, they no longer had to cater to the elders in the Lecture Hall. Compared to the former cutthroat competition and rivalry, they now preferred cooperation.
They were comfortable, but many others grew uneasy.
The Deacon Hall was the first to feel it—no one worked overtime, and the Spirit Stone Mine’s output was in jeopardy. Inner Sect disciples also felt the strain. Previously, a small incentive was enough to have people scrambling to run errands for them, but now Outer Sect disciples had somehow broadened their horizons and were harder to fool.
The elders of the Library Pavilion and Lecture Hall were the most discomfited.
Before, some would bow and scrape, serving diligently just to ask a question or two. Now, with no one fawning over them, the psychological gap was hard to accept.
All these matters gathered and piled up on Xu Yun’s desk, coalescing into one question: Why had the Outer Sect disciples become so difficult to manage?The Outer Sect may seem lowly, but its numerous members form the foundation that supports a major sect.
If the foundation crumbles, how can the grand structure endure?
Some Peak Lords proposed replacing the disciples—driving all the indolent ones down the mountain to eradicate the corrupt practices at their root.
However, with the Grand Assembly of Distinguished Appraisals imminent, there was no time for investigations, let alone recruiting new disciples. Xu Yun could only order everyone to endure until the assembly concluded.
The Calligrapher Sage’s impending visit had completely disrupted Huawel Sect’s original preparations.
Though Xu Yun had personally written the invitation to show respect, after his failed attempt to break through to the Transformation Stage, he secretly dreaded facing those four powerhouses whose cultivation far surpassed his.
He would have been content if the Calligrapher Sage hadn’t come. But since he was, Xu Yun had no choice but to accept it.
Huawel Sect’s palaces and pavilions were scattered like stars, too numerous to count. Three days before the assembly’s commencement, representatives from various sects and noble families had already taken up residence.
The scholars of Azure Cliff Academy stayed in Pine Forest Pavilion, an environment of refined elegance that greatly pleased the disciples.
Yet, for the Calligrapher Sage’s personal visit, he deserved the largest and most prestigious guest hall alone.
Currently, it was occupied by the abbot and disciples of Red Leaf Temple. Being compassionate monastics, they readily agreed to relocate.
Other sects, however, grumbled about making room for Red Leaf Temple’s monks. Neither Yuan Qingshi nor Chen Hongzhu could persuade them, and even several Peak Lords failed. In the end, Xu Yun had to step in personally to settle the matter.
Xu Yun almost wished the Calligrapher Sage would just move into Cosmos Palace so he could relocate to the Fleeting Water Bridge outside its gates.
Finally, the rehearsals for the ceremonial reception of the Calligrapher Sage concluded. Xu Yun sat down, closed his eyes, and began regulating his breath.
Suddenly, the abbot of Purple Cloud Temple, Reverend Hua Wei, paid an unexpected visit.
Xu Yun’s brow twitched, a familiar sense of foreboding washing over him.
The last time he’d felt this was just before that Outer Sect disciple uttered that name in Cosmos Palace.
Dressed in purple Daoist robes and lightly waving a horsetail whisk, Reverend Hua Wei beamed with joy:
“My grandmaster just sent word! Wonderful news!”
Forcing composure, Xu Yun stroked his beard and smiled. “Then I must congratulate the Chess Devil. How has the venerable one been lately?”
“Of course, he’s well. Yesterday, my grandmaster suddenly sensed that this assembly might bring him an opportunity to take a disciple. He’ll arrive tomorrow and insists on simplicity, with no unnecessary fuss.”
“...”
Xu Yun no longer wanted to live by the Fleeting Water Bridge—he wanted to jump off it.
“Heh, I wonder which fortunate junior will inherit the Chess Devil’s legacy. Truly, destiny favors them,” he heard his own slightly trembling voice reply.
※※※
The setting sun cast golden shimmers upon the lake’s surface.
Lotus leaves had just begun to emerge, not yet in full bloom. A solitary stone pavilion stood at the lake’s center, its reflection mirrored in the water.
This scenic spot within Huawel Sect was now bustling with activity as young cultivators strolled along the shore, their laughter rising and falling like tides.
They were a mix of men and women from various sects, their Magic Robes a vibrant array of colors.
Song Qianji and Meng Heze walked through the crowd.
Clad in the dull gray robes of Outer Sect disciples, they resembled two drab ducks.
Suddenly, a teasing laugh rang out: “Huawel Sect truly lives up to its grandeur—even Outer Sect disciples are allowed to enjoy the lake!”
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