Yellow talisman paper was pasted under the gray-blue eaves, swaying gently in the wind and emitting a soft glow.
Like a young sun shining upon newly sprouted seeds.
The light was bright but not glaring, warm but not scorching.
As the spring breeze blew, the water in the large vat rippled gently, reflecting the clouds and shimmering with sparkling waves.
Just by watching, Song Qianji felt joy on behalf of the lotus roots.
Creating the Focusing Light Talisman wasn’t particularly difficult for him, but to fine-tune the optimal duration of illumination and light intensity, he had wasted over ten sheets of talisman paper.
When Meng Heze led a group of Outer Sect disciples through the door, they happened to see Song Qianji tidying up his brush and ink.
On the table lay two stacks of newly drawn talismans, the traces of talisman cinnabar still fresh.
The disciples were momentarily stunned, then overjoyed: "Senior Brother Song actually drew talismans for us!"
Unless absolutely necessary, no one wanted to disturb Song Qianji or trouble him. That’s why no one had informed him about the new strategies for the arena matches.
Who would have thought that Senior Brother Song would foresee everything with such divine insight.
Song Qianji pointed to the discarded talismans: "You’ve come at the right time. Take these to play with."
Meng Heze entered happily, while Zhou Xiaoyun and the others waited outside, sighing with admiration:
"Senior Brother Song has always been stern on the outside but warm-hearted. He never says anything, yet he’s always concerned about us and notices the things we overlook!"
Meng Heze touched the talisman paper, curious: "Senior Brother, why are the talismans divided into two stacks? What’s the difference?"
"The stack for you has stronger Talismanic Power and a brighter glow," Song Qianji said. "You can take it and use it however you like."
If hung under the eaves for most of the day, it could dry out the water vat and kill the lotus roots.
But he’d heard that talisman paper prices had risen in Hua Wei City, and it seemed wasteful to casually tear up discarded talismans.
Meng Heze hesitated: "Then, I’ll take the other stack with the dimmer light. Shall we swap?"
He thought to himself, of course, the better ones should be kept for senior brother’s own use. How could I have the nerve to take them?
Song Qianji thought, this kid sure has high ambitions. If you use them, what will my two vats of lotus roots rely on?
He immediately refused decisively: "No!"
Meng Heze held the talismans, moved to the point of tears glistening in his eyes: "Senior Brother Song, I will live up to your high expectations!"
"Ah?" Song Qianji was taken aback.
Damn, his brain must have been beaten silly.
Meng Heze held back his tears and bowed to him: "I have to hurry to the next round of draws. I’ll come back tonight to cook noodles for you!"
Song Qianji was about to say that he didn’t necessarily have to have noodles, and maybe Meng Heze should rest early after the match, but Meng Heze had already turned and left.
Led by him, the group of Outer Sect disciples looked as if they had drunk ten bowls of chicken blood, their eyes shining and their steps brisk.
...
Amid the onslaught of blood, drumbeats, and white doves, Meng Heze narrowly avoided elimination, barely squeezing into the top hundred of the martial exam rankings with the lowest number of support votes, placing ninety-eighth.
Though people were reluctant to admit they were drawn to the novel fighting style, their actions betrayed them as they waited for his draws and gathered around his arena to watch.
Meng Heze’s match wasn’t fast, but he repeatedly employed risky moves.
He used many techniques requiring spins, each turn sending the hem of his robe flying high.
A gust of wind arose, blowing in countless white petals from who knows where.
Fluttering and scattering, filling the sky, the arena seemed to be covered in a heavy snowfall.
The white petals intertwined with the crimson glow of blood, creating a scene of tragic beauty, both breathtaking and heart-wrenching.
Below the stage, someone played a melody with bamboo leaves, the tune mournful and sorrowful, evoking an inexplicable sense of heartache.Only after Meng Heze sheathed his sword did the audience below the stage regain their composure, as if they had just witnessed a young man's arduous journey in pursuit of immortality.
"I want to vote for him!" a female cultivator choked out through tears.
When this round concluded, Meng Heze distanced himself from the square and did not reappear until the next round.
At the start, dusk was approaching.
By the end of the match, darkness had enveloped the surroundings, with only a single beam of light illuminating his blood-stained face.
Though drenched in blood from head to toe, Meng Heze lowered his head and drew a still-unopened pear blossom from his sleeve. He gently blew open the bud, then tossed it lightly off the stage.
"Thank you all for coming to watch my match!"
An unknown female cultivator initiated the first scream, sparking a frenzy of scrambling below the stage.
After this match, the initial framework of a female cultivator support group for Meng Heze began to take shape.
Some lamented, "It's a shame each performance isn't repeated—we can only watch it once."
Another whispered, "I secretly recorded it with a shadow jade."
"Really? Name your price! I'll buy it—how about three hundred spirit stones?"
But the female cultivator clenched her teeth and insisted, "No, I'm keeping it for myself!"
"Three hundred and fifty!"
"No! The heart-fluttering feeling of a fourteen-year-old spring is priceless!"
Many male cultivators couldn't comprehend it:
"Three hundred and fifty? They've all gone mad, just for a pretty face."
"Who scattered those petals for him? So exaggerated, so pretentious!"
"But it really was beautiful. Anyway, we're just watching, not voting. Let's feast our eyes first."
Though everyone claimed they would never vote, they knew deep down that if Meng Heze were eliminated, there would be no more spectacular stage performances to enjoy.
Some thought, since everyone says they won't vote, his tally must be low. If I cast just one vote, it might be enough to keep him from being eliminated.
This line of reasoning caused Meng Heze's vote count to skyrocket.
Chen Hongzhu felt conflicted about this. Meng Heze was a disciple of the Huawel Sect, and the sect should take pride in him. However, Meng Heze had grown distant from the sect, and the entire Outer Sect had become more united and harder to control because of this exhibition match.
Some elders had already proposed that after the Grand Assembly of Distinguished Appraisals concluded, all Outer Sect disciples should be expelled from the mountain. A new batch—more manageable, obedient, and willing to work extra shifts—should be recruited to completely reform the Outer Sect's culture.
Feng Ziyi, holding a different stance, cared only for her own amusement and excitement.
As a female cultivator who had interacted with Meng Heze, she became one of his earliest supporters. She even sent her maids to distribute colored paper slips: "Get to know Contestant 365, Meng Heze."
The female cultivators were skilled at canvassing for votes, starting with those from minor sects and clans who attended the assembly merely to gain experience and had been eliminated early:
"Greetings, fellow cultivator."
Many, being approached by a beautiful female cultivator for the first time in their lives, flushed with excitement, unsure how to respond. They would bow first before stammering, "You—no, greetings! Greetings, Fairy!"
"Where you come from or which sect you belong to doesn't matter. As long as you cast your precious vote for Contestant 365, Meng Heze, we can be good friends! Here, get to know Contestant 365, Meng Heze—he has all the fighting styles you love!"
After going through this routine, it was hard for anyone to refuse casting a vote.
Some accused these female cultivators of disrupting the order of the martial examination and having distorted aesthetics.
Feng Ziyi rolled her eyes dramatically: "You're allowed to idolize Miaoyan, but we can't support a male cultivator?"
"How dare you publicly insult Fairy Miaoyan?!"
"Ha! How did I insult her? I didn't say anything bad about her!" Feng Ziyi laughed.
"Fairy Miaoyan is of such noble stature—how can she be compared to a mere Outer Sect disciple like Meng Heze?"Another female cultivator interjected, "A hero's origins matter not. In terms of cultivation, Miaoyan achieved Foundation Establishment at fourteen, and Meng Heze is also fourteen this year. In terms of reputation, Miaoyan only became the acknowledged top beauty at seventeen. If Meng Heze wins the championship this year, he'll be the youngest champion in the history of the Grand Assembly of Distinguished Appraisals—where does he fall short?"
"Sister speaks truth! If Meng Heze successfully achieves Core Condensation in ten years, he'll be the next Ziye Wenshu!"
"What audacity! He's merely a crowd-pleaser—daring to compare with Fairy Miaoyan, and even with Senior Ziye? Are you all porcelain, crashing into everything?!"
The greater the controversy, the louder Meng Heze's fame grew.
On Platform One, someone demonstrated a complete set of lost sword techniques—no one paid attention. On Platform Two, someone broke through mid-battle—no one noticed. Everyone argued fiercely over Meng Heze daily.
Whether through love, hate, anger, or resentment, Meng Heze became the center of discussion.
Some felt Meng Heze brought novelty to the exhibition matches, showcasing unique ingenuity.
Moreover, Meng Heze was a sapling yet to fully grow. Betting on his advancement felt more engaging than wagering on towering trees.
It was the thrill of influencing another's destiny—once tasted, it became addictive.
Others believed Meng Heze's supporters were blights on the Cultivation World, crashing into everything like porcelain.
Yet they couldn't resist the dazzling allure.
After watching Meng Heze's matches, traditional styles felt dull, like eating food without a grain of salt—utterly flavorless.
Unless a match featured fellow disciples, no one wanted to leave the arena where Meng Heze competed.
His exhibition matches always burst with variety.
Like perfectly timed background music enhancing the atmosphere.
Like Magical Artifacts exploding mid-air like fireworks.
Like hundreds of sky lanterns igniting simultaneously, soaring into the night.
Regardless of the Grand Assembly's outcome, these scenes would remain etched in memory, becoming the most profound and vivid colors of this spring.
...
While the martial trials plunged into a whirlwind because of Meng Heze, the Calligraphy and Painting Examination and Music Examination had just begun.
That day, Song Qianji watered his vegetable garden as usual and replaced the Focusing Light Talisman under the eaves.
Then, breathing in the cool morning breeze and the fragrance of mountain forests, he leisurely stepped out of his home.
It was time for him to attend the Calligraphy and Painting Examination.
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