The Flying Cloud Tower was brightly lit.
The Calligrapher Sage sat before his desk, eyes half-closed, quietly listening to the report.
"...That is the full account of the matter. Please judge wisely. Although Song Qianji has close relationships with many female cultivators and moves through the Flower Appreciation Tower like a fish in water, chatting and laughing freely, he is truly a gentleman—one who appreciates beauty without being lustful.
"We've exhausted all our tricks and truly have no way to handle him." Shopkeeper Hua spoke with bitter frustration. "We can only await your guidance on what to do next."
The Calligrapher Sage opened his eyes after hearing this. Though inwardly overjoyed, he deliberately spoke in a grave tone: "So you admit defeat?"
The atmosphere grew heavy as everyone gritted their teeth: "We concede wholeheartedly!"
The Calligrapher Sage laughed heartily, slapping the table repeatedly as he laughed, causing the accumulated ink in the ancient inkstone to tremble slightly:
"Good, good! You've all worked hard on this trip!"
The shopkeepers and assistants hurriedly claimed they didn't deserve such praise, but seeing the Calligrapher Sage's delight, they joined in the laughter.
"However, there's one more strange matter." Shopkeeper Hua hesitated.
The Calligrapher Sage waved magnanimously: "Speak freely!"
"When I suggested to Song Qianji that I could teach him the 'Invisibility Art', he refused without hesitation. This made me feel that he doesn't seem very interested in practicing cultivation methods or improving his cultivation level..."
Shopkeeper Hua's voice grew softer as he spoke.
After Wei Ping became acquainted with the people of the Black Shop, he would learn the Invisibility Art from one person today, study artifact forging from Blacksmith Zhang tomorrow, and seek alchemy lessons from the medicine shop owner the day after—essentially swindling everyone out of their signature skills wherever he went.
But Wei Ping, styling himself as a wanderer, absolutely refused to learn talisman arts and had no desire to bear the identity of "some powerful master's successor."
Song Qianji was even stranger, claiming to be a farmer.
What cultivator doesn't want to learn cultivation methods and only wants to farm?
Shopkeeper Hua couldn't bear to voice a certain possibility aloud—the apprentice you've taken a liking to doesn't want you.
This would be too cruel for the elderly Calligrapher Sage.
Survival and reproduction are humanity's two most inseparable desires, innate and carved into flesh and blood.
It's common for cultivators to lack bloodline descendants, but without a disciple to inherit their legacy, they face true extinction.
Though the Calligrapher Sage couldn't ascend to immortality, his life had been magnificent and glorious—he shouldn't depart with regrets.
How many more Wei Pings and Song Qianjis exist in this world? How much time does the Calligrapher Sage have left to search for and mentor disciples?
Shopkeeper Hua felt a pang of sorrow.
The Calligrapher Sage's expression stiffened slightly before he declared firmly:
"Song Qianji is simply not interested in the Invisibility Art! Unlike that brat Wei Ping who wants everything."
Whether explaining to others or convincing himself, he continued: "Song Qianji already knows how to write talismans, even dared to claim my mountain, and actively signed up for the 'Calligraphy and Painting Examination'. Rest assured, he's coming for me! Just wait for the calligraphy and painting competition in three days—he'll surely display his brushwork and compete for victory!"
※※※
The bright moon emerged from the clouds, illuminating countless peaks.
The Cosmos Palace bathed in silver moonlight, its glazed tiles and bracket sets gleaming brightly.
The five-colored carp swam toward the depths of the clouds and mist.
Before the Main Peak square, the sea of people remained.
The other arenas had already determined their winners. Thus, everyone gathered around the "Heaven Character Number Two" platform, awaiting the final victor of this match.
The opponent Meng Heze encountered in this round was slightly higher in cultivation level than him and more experienced, unlike his previous opponent who was easily provoked.
The opponent's sword technique was meticulous and seamless, forming an impenetrable iron wall. Yet Meng Heze was a wall-breaker wielding a sharp blade, repeatedly finding openings to attack.
The more he fought, the more courageous he became, determined to break through even copper walls and iron barriers.
Cheers continuously erupted from below the stage.Meng Heze remained clear-headed and composed, not blinded by the impending victory.
As his opponent's sword technique wavered with retreat, he pressed forward with a fierce assault.
Just then, a mocking voice transmission reached Meng Heze's ears:
"You're putting on quite a show up there, but your Senior Brother Song is beyond saving!"
Meng Heze jolted.
He shouldn't have been able to hear it. Every arena was surrounded by isolation arrays monitored by deacons at the sidelines. Yet the deacon remained unmoved.
According to tournament rules, spectators were forbidden from sending voice transmissions to combatants—this prevented covert coaching or interference.
The voice sounded familiar, like one he'd heard at the entrance of Song Courtyard.
In that momentary distraction, his opponent's sword technique abruptly shifted!
Meng Heze reacted too slowly, instinctively deflecting the blade but taking a heavy punch to his chest and abdomen.
He grunted sharply, a trickle of blood seeping from his lips.
The sword had been a feint—the true killing move was the fist. His opponent splayed his fingers, revealing silver-glinting gloves.
These gauntlets were a mid-grade magical artifact.
As the opponent withdrew, he whispered, "A paid job to eliminate troubles. My apologies."
"Senior Brother Meng, be careful!"
The battle's momentum reversed unexpectedly.
Outer sect disciples below cried out in concern:
"What happened? Senior Brother Meng seems distracted!"
Meng Heze's eyes turned cold. Gripping his longsword tightly, he unleashed a swift, ruthless slash.
In the blink of an eye, their blades crossed twenty times.
Another voice transmission echoed in his ear: "We found twelve Foundation Building cultivators as skilled as you—all sent to Yaoguang Lake to deal with Song Qianji, haha!"
Who dared harm Senior Brother Song?
Who would dare?!
Meng Heze hastily glanced toward the crowded spectators during the fight, spotting fleeting green shadows moving through the mass.
He suddenly curled forward, bending painfully like a awkward shrimp.
His opponent retracted his fist, wearing a smug expression.
A faint twitch tugged at Meng Heze's eye corner.
A realization dawned, igniting fury within him.
They were in collusion—the deacon by the arena, the voice transmission below, his opponent on stage.
From the moment he stepped onto this arena, he had been a trapped beast in a cage.
Malicious, laughing transmissions alternated with shocked cries from the crowd.
A sharp pain tore through Meng Heze's abdomen, the taste of blood rising in his throat. He coughed up a mouthful of crimson.
Having endured three hundred consecutive battles in the past, he'd gained not just combat experience, but ample experience with injuries.
Probably two broken ribs, he thought—his organs seemed mostly intact.
The elegant flower petals from the previous match felt like a distant dream. Now, the beautiful dream had ended.
The cultivation world had torn off its mask, revealing its brutal truth.
He was falling endlessly down the Immortal Ascension Ladder, plummeting until he crashed into the infernal flames, his body consumed, his resolve scorched to ashes.
Another transmission came: "Just forfeit! It's time to send your senior brother to the infirmary!"
"Ah—!"
Meng Heze's eyes flushed crimson. Propping himself up with his sword, he roared at the sky!
Sword energy surged violently, his robes whipping around him.
His opponent staggered back from the sudden burst of pressure.
Before he could steady himself, Meng Heze's blade descended upon him.
"I forfeit!" sensing danger, the opponent shouted.
But Meng Heze was faster.
His sword had never moved so swiftly, nor struck with such merciless resolve.
He had always considered himself an upright gentleman, a reasonable and principled man.
He restrained himself with strict standards, suppressing the shadow of extremism within his nature.
A piercing scream erupted.
His opponent was flung from the arena, limbs shattered.
Female cultivators below covered their faces in horror.
Healers arrived with stretchers. The night breeze could not disperse the scent of blood.Meng Heze scanned his surroundings and coldly declared, "If anything happens to my senior brother, I will make you pay in blood."
His voice wasn't loud, just slightly hoarse.
Which made it even more terrifying.
The arena fell into complete silence, the crowd stunned speechless.
No one understood what he was talking about.
They only saw his menacing and frightening expression, his eyes bloodshot like a bloodthirsty beast.
The deacon at the edge of the arena met his gaze and momentarily dared not approach, nor did anyone announce the winner.
Meng Heze leaped off the platform, ignoring the astonished crowd.
The square was packed solid, yet he soared over their heads like a bird.
Yaoguang Lake was dark as ink, its waters still and devoid of people.
He transformed into a blur, racing toward the Outer Sect's Song Courtyard.
Pushing open the vermilion gate, he found the small courtyard empty.
"Senior Brother Song—"
Meng Heze's heart sank uncontrollably, his chaotic Spirit Qi nearly bursting his meridians. Visions of himself slaughtering indiscriminately flashed through his mind.
"You were looking for me?"
A familiar voice sounded. Meng Heze whirled around.
"You ran pretty fast," Song Qianji said with a laugh.
Meng Heze stared intently at Song Qianji's face, as if unable to believe his eyes or as if he didn't recognize the person before him.
After a long moment, the blood-red faded from his eyes, his frenzied expression returned to normal, and his gaze regained its sparkle as he exclaimed with joy:
"Senior Brother Song, you—you're alright?!"
Song Qianji stepped into the courtyard and corrected him, "I do have matters to attend to. I need to plant lotus roots."
Meng Heze murmured, "You're fine, you're fine, that's great..."
He blinked, nearly shedding tears.
"I'm fine, so why are you crying?" Song Qianji noticed something was wrong and patted his shoulder, asking gently, "Who bullied you? Did the fight hurt?"
Song Qianji felt both helpless and amused.
In your past life, whenever someone upset you, you could kick down their mountain, smash their cave abode, and slaughter their entire family including their wet nurse. But in this life, you can only run home to complain to your dad—
"They all ganged up on me."
"And they talk behind my back, boohoo."
Perhaps this was the only downside of not being the Lord of the heretical path.
"As long as you're alright, Senior Brother!" Meng Heze wiped his face, his tears turning to laughter. "Sorry, I was just too happy."
A false alarm bringing more joy than unexpected good fortune.
"Tell me the truth," Song Qianji said.
"While I was on the platform, someone sent me a voice transmission..." Meng Heze briefly explained, omitting his own reaction at the time.
"So that's what happened," Song Qianji laughed. "I just went to Yaoguang Lake to gather some mud and didn't encounter any ambush. They deceived you to make you lose your composure. Don't believe them next time. Are you injured? Let me see."
"Just minor injuries. They'll heal after a night's rest." Meng Heze lowered his head, somewhat regretful. "I was too impulsive and fell for the enemy's scheme. I shouldn't have been so ruthless earlier. I know 'exhibition matches' should be entertaining and make people enjoy watching, but I lost control."
"Did you kill anyone?" Song Qianji frowned.
"No," Meng Heze said. "I broke his arm."
He thought, probably a few bones too.
"Then it's fine. Go back, wash up, and sleep," Song Qianji said. "Rest well to prepare for tomorrow's match."
He looked at the lotus root seeds in the clear water, his fingers itching with anticipation.
Having resolved Meng Heze's issue, Song Qianji could finally approach the large vats and begin filling them with mud.
The mud felt soft and full of vitality. Using it to splash someone would be a terrible waste.
To give the lotus roots ample space to grow, after careful selection, he buried only two seeds in each large vat.The end with the tender sprout stood upright, full of vitality.
Then Meng Heze said, "Let me cook you a bowl of noodles before you go, alright?"
The youth looked at him, eyes filled with hope.
Song Qianji was speechless: "Fine, I'll eat."
In my past life of over a hundred years, I never ate as many meals as I have in these few months since being reborn!
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