"You're welcome," Miaoyan said softly.
She sat by the terrace edge in a lake-green gown, the sea of clouds behind her dyed crimson by the sunset.
It surged day and night, never ceasing.
The beauty's lashes cast downward shadows, her lips curved in a perfectly measured smile. Her draped gauze sleeves fluttered in the breeze, beautiful as a painting.
The painting contained no one else.
Though laughter overflowed across the terrace, the space around her remained empty and still, graced only by a pot of silver lotus in water.
Most female cultivators disliked her. No one was born to be a foil, the green leaves highlighting the red flower.
The difference lay in how most maintained surface warmth and familiarity, while Chen Hongzhu and a select few dared to wear their likes and dislikes openly, unafraid of being labeled jealous.
When Song Qianji first spoke to Miaoyan, Chen Hongzhu noticed immediately.
Her expression shifted at once. Disregarding the person beside her seeking her opinion, she rose directly and strode over.
Feng Ziyi also stood up, her white tiger's tail giving a slight flick as she followed closely.
They all knew Song Qianji's famous declaration. Miaoyan herself knew it too.
Did Song Qianji, fully aware that Miaoyan knew, still dare to speak with her? Wasn't this walking right into her trap, inviting her to seize the chance to make things difficult?
Both felt something major was about to happen and hurried over, only to hear them exchange "thank you" and "you're welcome."
Chen Hongzhu was bewildered. What was going on?
Feng Ziyi wondered if Miaoyan hadn't recognized Song Qianji, mistaking him for someone trying to flirt with her.
In truth, Miaoyan had an excellent memory, never forgetting a face she'd seen. She had recognized him the moment Song Qianji stepped onto the terrace.
—That Outer Sect disciple she'd encountered face-to-face on Fleeting Water Bridge, lately rising in reputation.
If any other young cultivator had directly lifted the gauze curtain and barged into a gathering of female cultivators, it would undoubtedly be seen as rude and offensive, provoking anger.
But when he did it, it seemed natural and smooth.
Even the most domineering female cultivators didn't blame him, instead making excuses for him.
Miaoyan knew at first glance that this person didn't like her.
Unlike some who adored beauty in their hearts while preaching emptiness in speech.
When this person said she wasn't good, he truly meant it—not just seeking attention through contrarianism.
When he looked at the lotus, his gaze was clear as a spring, a gentle smile on his lips, his demeanor warm.
But when he lifted his head and saw her face, he immediately turned cold.
This stirred a subtle discomfort in Miaoyan's heart, even a hint of dissatisfaction.
So she spoke: "If you like this cold pool silver lotus, I have another in my bamboo loft. Would you accept it as a gift?"
She shouldn't have said this. The words barely left her lips when regret instantly arose.
Chen Hongzhu and Feng Ziyi, two who seldom saw eye to eye, found their first moment of tacit understanding.
They exchanged a glance, seeing identical shock on each other's faces.
Was this still Miaoyan? Miaoyan never gave gifts to others, much less took the initiative to show favor to any young cultivator.
But Song Qianji said, "Thank you, Fairy, but it's unnecessary."
He had no plans to cultivate spiritual plants for now, nor did he possess any cold crystal stones.
These flowers and plants required glass covers engraved with spirit gathering arrays for protection—beautiful yet cold, lacking natural vitality.
After speaking, Song Qianji took his leave. Miaoyan's expression shifted slightly before quickly returning to normal.
Chen Hongzhu and Feng Ziyi, seeing him depart without the slightest hesitation, wore expressions of utter disbelief.
Miaoyan had been rejected? The renowned number one beauty of the Cultivation World, rejected by an Outer Sect disciple of the Huawel Sect?
Who would believe it if word got out?
Chen Hongzhu nearly laughed aloud to the skies!This utterly hypocritical, masked woman should have tasted failure long ago.
She thought with schadenfreude, See, not everyone in this world is a green-shelled turtle willing to walk into your trap.
But as she watched Miaoyan's solitary silhouette against the sunset, for some reason, she couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for her.
"Wait." Feng Ziyi called out to Song Qianji, hesitating, "You're leaving already? Didn't you come to see the flowers?"
Song Qianji smiled: "I've already seen them."
What surprised Feng Ziyi was that this person's attitude remained perfectly polite. Even when he rejected Miaoyan earlier, it seemed devoid of personal bias—simply because he "didn't need to."
Feng Ziyi's eyes shifted as she found a topic:
"That person who was with you by Yaoguang Lake the other day? Why haven't I seen him today?"
"He's downstairs taking the martial exam," Song Qianji replied.
"Which platform?" Chen Hongzhu, no longer looking at Miaoyan, returned to the group of female cultivators. "Let us have a look."
Song Qianji walked to the balcony railing and pointed at Meng Heze's arena: "Right there."
A group of female cultivators eagerly looked over, but their expressions turned disappointed upon seeing him.
The young man wore his hair in a high ponytail, dressed in a dark blue coarse robe, wielding a crude low-grade sword. Though he looked valiant, his situation was pitiful, covered in wounds.
His opponent stood nearly nine feet tall, wielding a Gale Thunder heavy sword that carried immense force with each swing. Every strike made the Protective Array-shielded arena tremble.
"Is he about to lose?" Feng Ziyi said regretfully. "It's alright, the fourth round's prizes are already quite good."
Chen Hongzhu remarked, "He had bad luck with the draw. His opponent is half a realm higher, with ample Spirit Qi and a solid foundation."
"No, he'll win soon," Song Qianji said.
The women clearly didn't believe him, and laughter rippled through the group.
Only out of respect for Song Qianji being a friend of Chen Hongzhu and Feng Ziyi did they refrain from open mockery.
Moreover, since his arrival, he had only admired the flowers without bothering anyone, which many female cultivators found quite agreeable.
Many beauties may seem unapproachable, but as long as one isn't greasy, narcissistic, or pretentious, and interacts with them normally, that alone can surpass ninety-nine percent of self-proclaimed "charming talents" and earn a "not bad" evaluation.
"Though I'm a medical cultivator and don't understand combat, even I can see he's being overpowered. How is he going to win?" one female cultivator asked.
Unafraid of being laughed at for her shallow judgment, she voiced the question everyone wanted to ask.
On the arena, half of Meng Heze's sleeve was stained red with blood as he awkwardly blocked and dodged, using only the Light Body Technique to evade, seemingly unable to fight back.
Meanwhile, his opponent looked vigorous, his heavy sword flashing with lightning and roaring with wind, like a tiger toying with a rabbit.
Song Qianji said, "Within three moves, he will turn defeat into victory."
Chen Hongzhu focused her gaze and noticed that although Meng Heze was retreating, his dodging steps weren't disordered—more like he was feigning panic, always just avoiding the sword's edge.
In contrast, his opponent was panting heavily. Frustrated by his inability to secure victory despite being on the brink for so long, and missing his strikes by mere inches each time, he was growing increasingly impatient and reckless.
The rhythm of the battle was actually in Meng Heze's control.Feng Ziyi also sensed something unusual: "He won so many fine Magical Artifacts at Yaoguang Lake, yet he's saving them now. Is he waiting for the fifth or sixth round? Is he confident he can win this match?"
The women's curiosity grew stronger. They focused intently on the blue-clad youth on the arena, their hearts swaying with each of his moves and strikes. Subconsciously, they forgot to chat and even forgot to admire the flowers.
Meng Heze had nearly retreated to the edge of the arena. With nowhere left to go, his opponent leaped into the air, delivering a thunderous strike straight down upon him.
Electric light filled the entire arena. Some couldn't bear to watch and had already closed their eyes.
With half his foot already on the arena's edge, Meng Heze had no choice but to surge forward, seemingly making one last desperate attempt.
Yet the moment their swords clashed, his figure vanished into thin air.
His movement was like the wind, eerily passing by his opponent. Suddenly gathering all his Spirit Qi, he struck his opponent's back with a fierce palm strike!
"Boom!"
The opponent's massive frame flew out of the arena, kicking up a cloud of dust.
The Enforcement Hall disciples at the sidelines quickly dispersed the spectators to prevent any accidental injuries.
"Ding San Liu Wu, Meng Heze wins—" the Deacon at the edge loudly announced.
Exhausted, Meng Heze leaned on his sword for support, lowered his head, and grinned.
"Senior Brother Meng won!"
"Our Outer Sect won again!"
The arena fell silent for a moment before erupting into earth-shaking cheers.
The loudest, most frantic shouts didn't come from Hua Wei's Outer Sect disciples, nor from Meng Heze's newly made friends from other sects, but from the two gambling addicts Xu Kanshan and Qiu Dacheng:
"Spirit Stones, Spirit Stones! We won!"
"He actually won!" The female cultivators on the balcony also applauded and cheered.
They had been completely absorbed in the match moments before and had now forgotten their reserve.
"Quite methodical fighting. Good combat rhythm and awareness. Most impressively, he remained calm under pressure, seizing his opponent's opening." Chen Hongzhu asked, "Did you teach him?"
Song Qianji shook his head: "He has talent."
The balcony railing was smooth and wide, filled with vases of various colors.
The vases held flowers freshly cut that day. Though not the precious varieties under the Glass Cover, they were equally vibrant and blooming.
Viewed from outside the building, it appeared as a small tower overflowing with flowers.
Feng Ziyi had always loved fun and excitement. In her exhilaration, she plucked a golden-petaled rose from the railing and threw it toward the arena:
"Well fought!"
Seeing this, the other female cultivators also began plucking flowers from the railing and tossing them into the air.
"Senior Brother Meng, someone's throwing flowers for you!" Zhou Xiaoyun exclaimed in delight.
Meng Heze caught a stray falling blossom.
Still dazed from the life-and-death battle, he stood bewildered.
"Hey, isn't that Junior Brother Song over there!" Xu Kanshan beamed, turning to Qiu Dacheng. "We should thank Junior Brother Song for making us rich this time."
Qiu Dacheng: "Of course! From now on, whoever he says to bet on, we bet on, no questions asked!"
Meng Heze suddenly looked up and saw Song Qianji leaning against the railing. His slender figure was outlined by the setting sun's golden rays, as if he were an immortal.
Countless flowers flew out from behind Song Qianji, more brilliant and glorious than the sunset sky.
Amid the swirling blossoms, only he stood still.
A shower of flowers engulfed Meng Heze, covering him completely.
Countless people cheered for him, as if the entire world revolved around him.
A fourteen-year-old boy who had nothing now possessed everything.
How could he not be dazzled?
The gaze of everyone in the entire square was drawn to this magnificent, heaven-sent rain of flowers.People were discussing who had thrown the flowers from the Fresh Flower Pavilion and who the young man in blue robes might be.
Initially, they speculated he came from a prominent noble family to command such grandeur. Upon learning he was merely an outer sect disciple of the Huawel Sect, the discussions grew even more heated, mingling envy with admiration:
"To have reached Foundation Establishment at such a young age—truly gifted, with a boundless future."
"What times are these? No matter how brilliantly we fight, we don’t catch the eye of those upstairs."
"That pretty boy only won one martial trial, yet he acts as if he’s triumphed at the Grand Audience Assembly."
Meng Heze looked up at the flowers, momentarily forgetting where he was.
When he snapped out of his daze and waved energetically at Song Qianji, he realized Senior Brother Song was already gone.
By the railing, only a group of exquisitely dressed, radiant female cultivators remained, fluttering round fans and giggling behind them.
Meng Heze flushed with embarrassment, quickly dropping his hand and clasping it behind his back, nervously twisting the hem of his robe.
But every move he made was under public scrutiny.
"Oh my, he’s blushing!" More people laughed.
Meng Heze’s face reddened further. He lowered his head, stepped down from the arena, and went to search for Song Qianji.
But he searched in vain—Song Qianji was nowhere to be found.
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