Meng Heze, unable to find the person he was looking for, was quickly surrounded by a group of outer sect disciples. Cheering as if celebrating a hero's triumphant return, they escorted him toward the drawing lot area.
Along the way, more disciples joined them, forming a sizable procession. Nearly the entire outer sect had come to support him.
Some arenas hadn't yet determined the winners of the fourth round, so the drawing hadn't begun.
While waiting, Meng Heze appeared calm and composed on the surface, but secretly pricked up his ears, listening with great interest to others discussing him:
"He actually achieved Foundation Establishment while in the outer sect—where did he learn his techniques? How did he cultivate?"
"That last match was a narrow victory. I wonder if he can win the next one?"
Occasionally, he heard some discordant, sour remarks like "He's just a watchdog for Song Courtyard" or "A lackey under Song Qianji's command," but he didn't get angry. He thought to himself, being a watchdog isn't something just anyone can do.
Even if you wanted the position, if you don't know anything about plant care or cooking, you're basically useless—Senior Brother Song wouldn't even want you.
As dusk fell, the mountain breeze grew chilly.
One more round to fight, and the matches would end for the day. The losers would go home to tend their wounds, wash up, and sleep, while the winners would continue tomorrow.
The arena squares had been reduced to ten, making the spectating cultivators more concentrated and the underground betting pools larger.
Xu Kanshan and Qiu Dacheng, having failed to find Song Qianji, could only continue betting on Meng Heze to win, their address for him shifting from "Junior Brother Meng" to "Brother Meng."
"Ding San Liu Wu versus Bing Fourteen, await at Heavenly Platform Two," the deacon announced loudly.
Before the outer sect disciples even knew who the opponent was, someone shouted, "Senior Brother Meng will surely win!"
The young man, holding his low-grade sword, carrying countless gazes and expectations on his shoulders, walked through the surging crowd and roaring cheers.
※※※
"Report! Song Qianji has come downstairs and left the building!"
"Report! He's heading back to the outer sect alone!"
"Everyone to your positions, appear at the designated spots."
"Shopkeeper Hua, get ready to throw yourself at him!"
The "Flower Appreciation Gathering" had yielded little, leaving Song Qianji slightly disappointed.
But his mood remained cheerful as he walked along the spring mountain path, surrounded by vibrant spring scenery.
He enjoyed the mountains, flowers, and rippling water, finding even the wild grass by the roadside delightful.
Thus, encountering a group blocking the path and arguing felt particularly jarring.
Four or five burly, fierce-looking men were surrounding a delicate female cultivator in white, laughing and teasing her.
Apart from not wearing a veil, her attire, figure, and demeanor were strikingly similar to He Qingqing.
"We're inviting you to have fun as a favor—don't be ungrateful!"
"Your family still owes us money, remember?"
The female cultivator stepped back in fear, her face pale: "This is Huawai Sect, the Grand Audience Assembly—in broad daylight, under the clear sky..."
Besides her frail, willow-like posture, she had a face like a lotus emerging from water—pure and pitiable.
The bullies burst into raucous laughter.
"What broad daylight? It's almost dark!"
Someone pushed her shoulder, and she let out a delicate cry, stumbling and falling forward.
At that moment, a thoroughly ordinary Song Qianji happened to pass by.
Walking leisurely, not in any particular hurry.
Her skirt fluttered like a broken-winged butterfly as she fell toward this passing cultivator.
She looked up, her bright eyes filled with glistening tears, dampening her long, curled eyelashes—teetering on the edge of falling, utterly pitiable.
In such a scene, who wouldn't feel compassion?
Song Qianji glanced over and sidestepped.
"Thud"!
The female cultivator's fluttering white sleeve brushed past him.
The "broken-winged butterfly" hit the ground, dust flying, splayed out like a thin pancake in a pan.She forgot to control her expression, widening her eyes in disbelief.
Song Qianji actually dodged? What movement technique was he practicing?
Yet, like stepping around a tree blocking the path, the person continued forward, still walking unhurriedly.
The "bullies" wore similarly stunned expressions.
"Hey, what's wrong with you? Can't you see there's a fairy here?!"
A young cultivator approaching from the opposite side saw this and, while condemning Song Qianji for lacking any chivalry or compassion, quickly stepped forward to offer help to the damsel in distress. He smiled gently and said, "Don't be afraid, Fairy!"
Song Qianji paid no attention and didn't look back.
The situation instantly became extremely awkward.
Who are you? And where did you come from?
The female cultivator's expression changed. Pretending not to see the offered hand, she nimbly got up and swiftly followed Song Qianji.
Realizing she was moving too fast, she weakly explained:
"May I trouble you, fellow Daoist, to accompany me for a stretch? You're wearing the Huawei Sect disciple robe—they wouldn't dare provoke a disciple of the host sect."
Song Qianji didn't agree or refuse, nor did he even glance at her.
The female cultivator walked beside him with lowered eyes, appearing on the verge of tears while inwardly roaring in frustration:
"Who let a real passerby through?! A bunch of useless fools who only ruin things!"
She pretended to be frightened and unsteady on her feet.
Whenever she stumbled over a pebble, she would inevitably fall toward Song Qianji, but she never succeeded—at most, she only brushed the edge of his robe.
Later, whenever Song Qianji spotted a small stone, he would gently kick it away, always a step ahead of her, leaving her no chance to stumble.
The disciples had gathered in the square to watch Meng Heze's match, leaving the entire Outer Sect quiet and deserted.
The Song Courtyard remained as lush as ever. Five or six sparrows perched on the bamboo fence, preening their feathers in the last rays of the setting sun.
As Song Qianji opened the door, the female cultivator slipped nimbly into the small courtyard:
"Thank you for escorting me, fellow Daoist. I have nothing to offer but would like to brew you a cup of tea to express my gratitude for your protection."
"No need," Song Qianji said.
The female cultivator hurriedly added, "Those people are probably still waiting for me on the road. May I borrow your esteemed abode to hide for a moment? Just a moment, and I'll leave."
She looked delicate and trembled fearfully.
"Suit yourself."
The first thing Song Qianji did upon entering was check the lotus root seeds soaking in clear water.
Tender white sprouts had emerged, growing promisingly, ready to be planted in the mud.
Only then did he glance back at the ground where the female cultivator had stepped and the footprints she left.
He couldn't help but feel puzzled—there had been far too many strange occurrences lately.
The "female cultivator" moved closer, pleading pitifully, "You are truly noble, fellow Daoist. A chance encounter is fate—may I ask where you are from?"
Shopkeeper Hua was almost sickened by his own act.
After cursing his teammates inwardly, he railed against Song Qianji's stubbornness. Whose idea was this "beauty scheme"? Had they soaked their brains in the Ink Pond?
The entire way, he'd been casting flirtatious glances at a blind man, accumulating a bellyful of resentment. He cursed almost the entire Cultivation World, except for the Calligrapher Sage, whom he didn't dare insult.
Song Qianji suddenly said, "I'm going out. Would you like to come along?"
"Ah?"
The "surprise" had come too abruptly.
Shopkeeper Hua jolted, immediately perking up. You sly Song Qianji, so it was hard pretending to be a righteous gentleman earlier, wasn't it?
Now that the lady has followed you home, you're showing your true colors by asking her out?
"Alright." The white-robed female cultivator nodded shyly. "I'd be happy to accompany you, fellow Daoist. Where are we going?""To Yaoguang Lake."
Shopkeeper Hua glanced at the sky and sneered inwardly. At this moment, everyone in Huawel Sect was gathered at the square watching the martial trials, while others observed the chess matches at Fengyan Valley.
Yaoguang Lake wouldn't have a single soul—not even a bird. Going there in pitch darkness, what mischief are you planning?
The female cultivator in white covered her mouth with a light laugh: "Alright, let's go then."
Night fell, the evening breeze caressing thousands of willow branches along the lakeshore.
The starry sky reflected in the water like scattered silver dust.
Not a soul in sight, only the chirping of cicadas among the willow trees.
It was the perfect time to collect mud from the lake. Song Qianji thought, tonight he could plant lotus roots.
A small canopy boat was moored to a willow tree by the shore.
Song Qianji untied the rope and leaped onto the boat.
"Fellow cultivator, could you give me a hand?" the female cultivator said weakly.
Song Qianji didn't speak, but reached out to wrap an arm around her waist, spinning once before gently setting her down in the boat.
The female cultivator's skirt fluttered like a lotus flower blooming and closing in an instant.
The small boat drifted lightly toward the center of the lake.
Under the moonlight amid flowers, with the lake shimmering, the scene was beautiful.
But Shopkeeper Hua was utterly shocked.
He was still acting proper earlier—surely he wouldn't turn into a beast so quickly?!
Although Song Qianji only held her briefly, releasing her instantly and making no further contact.
Shopkeeper Hua felt goosebumps all over, convinced this kid must be a lecher.
If he dares to get handsy again, I'll break his damned claws.
The small boat stopped near the lakeside pavilion.
"Fellow cultivator, what are you doing?" Shopkeeper Hua asked, puzzled.
"Collecting mud." Song Qianji pulled up lotus roots along with their root systems and mud, storing them all in his storage bag.
"Others gather lotus flowers while you gather mud. You're truly interesting."
Song Qianji didn't respond: "Shall we go somewhere quieter?"
"Where to?"
Song Qianji pointed across the lake.
The western shore of Yaoguang Lake was surrounded by mountains. Deep in the mountains, without the lake's reflection, it was pitch black.
The boat reached shore.
The two walked up the hillside, dense leaves completely blocking the moonlight.
Shopkeeper Hua grew excited, hands tucked in sleeves, secretly sending a message talisman to other shopkeepers and assistants while Song Qianji wasn't looking.
Thank goodness the Calligrapher Sage didn't choose this kid, and thank goodness I'm testing him personally.
What noble spirit is this?
"Let's stop here." Song Qianji halted.
If Zhao Jiheng were here, he'd recognize this as the very mountain pavilion where Zhao Mu painted portraits of beauties.
The mountain pavilion stood silent amid the roaring waves of the forest sea.
"I have a question."
"Please ask, fellow cultivator." Shopkeeper Hua smiled.
"Who are you?" Song Qianji asked, "Where are you from?"
Shopkeeper Hua simpered shyly: "My name is Bai Lianlian, a disciple of the overseas Xiaguang Sect. A minor sect, not worth mentioning."
He sneered inwardly. You just want to know what consequences you'll face if you bully this girl.
Song Qianji uttered an "Oh" and said calmly:
"Then who is Wang Tugen?"
"Bai Lianlian"'s face instantly turned deathly pale.
How is this possible?
His disguise didn't just alter appearance. His demeanor, movements, walking posture—even his aura—were completely transformed.
With this skill, he had roamed freely across Northern Sky Continent in the past, with even Nascent Soul elders unable to see through his true form.
Song Qianji's cultivation was low—how could he have recognized him?
No, he must be trying to bluff me.
Shopkeeper Hua repeatedly shook his head: "Who is Wang Tugen? I don't know him."
"Your weight hasn't changed." Song Qianji said calmly.
"Weight?" Shopkeeper Hua was stunned.
Song Qianji: "You entered Song Courtyard twice, and walked across my vegetable patch both times."
"So what?" Shopkeeper Hua asked blankly.
Song Qianji smiled: "You stepped on my land, and I'm a farmer—how could I not feel it?"
A farmer?!Sword Cultivator, Sound Cultivator, Magic Cultivator, Buddhist Cultivator, alchemists, artifact forgers, formation masters, talismasters—which cultivator would ever call themselves a farmer?!
Utterly absurd.
Shopkeeper Hua still refused to give up: "You can't just assume I'm... based on a feeling."
"So I weighed you," Song Qianji said.
Shopkeeper Hua froze.
When they boarded the boat earlier, Song Qianji had reached out to hug him—not to take advantage, but to secretly weigh him.
He had been careless.
"You have accomplices, don't you?" Song Qianji asked.
Shopkeeper Hua felt a chill run down his spine.
Had Song Qianji suspected something was off from the moment he entered the small courtyard, yet concealed it completely, only making his move now?
To be so composed—was he really just a fifteen-year-old youth?
"I can swear a blood oath—we meant you no harm, only wanted to test you. But there are things you're not ready to know, and I won't speak of them."
Song Qianji said, "When you disguised yourself as Wang Tugen, your clothes were shabby and destitute, but there was no foul odor. Even your nails were clean, without a speck of dirt in the seams. Even when pretending to be such a person, you refused to let yourself get the slightest bit dirty. You must be very particular about cleanliness, right?"
Shopkeeper Hua was puzzled why he brought this up. After a moment of stunned silence, he smiled bitterly:
"To be honest, I am indeed obsessive about cleanliness."
As a cosmetics shop owner, he was accustomed to being meticulous.
Song Qianji smiled: "Right now, I have a whole bag of mud on me."
"You!" Shopkeeper Hua's expression changed abruptly.
"Your cultivation is higher than mine, but you definitely can't dodge all the mud. Want to try?"
Before the words faded, the wind suddenly picked up.
Over a dozen dark figures emerged from the forest.
Clad in magic robes that concealed their auras, only their eyes were visible.
Holding magical artifacts, they rushed toward the pavilion from different directions, instantly forming an encirclement.
They meant trouble.
"Where did you find so many people?" Shopkeeper Hua scanned the surroundings and smiled bitterly, "Even if I refuse to talk, just let me take the mud splashing as venting—you don't need to kill me, do you?"
Song Qianji was the successor chosen by the Calligrapher Sage. He couldn't harm him and was already constrained at every turn.
"I didn't bring them. I don't want to kill you." Song Qianji was taken aback, recalling the Six Sages of Green Cliff he encountered during the day.
"Really?" Shopkeeper Hua wiped his face, "Then can I fight back? I've had such a frustrating, humiliating day!"
Song Qianji assessed the newcomers and felt a twinge of sympathy: "Do as you please."
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