The Star-Picking Platform in daylight was gilded with golden sunlight, standing beneath the azure sky like a radiant pearl emerging from a sea of clouds.
Chess Devil had changed into a brand-new black silk robe today.
Behind him stood two attendants: a young woman in a goose-yellow dress and an elderly Taoist in deep purple robes—none other than Li Ying and the current abbot of Purple Cloud Temple, Master Qingwei.
There was still a full half-hour until the hour of Chen, yet they had arrived early.
Chess Devil engaged Qingwei in sporadic conversation, discussing only trivial matters and idle chatter with a faint smile.
Qingwei felt somewhat tense, carefully weighing his words before responding.
He vaguely sensed that his master's temper had grown milder year by year—no longer prone to scolding others mercilessly or issuing harsh commands arbitrarily.
This brought him relief and gratitude, yet also an unavoidable pang of sorrow.
In his youth, Chess Devil could control many things and delighted in being a ruler, but now he couldn't even manage how many times he took his medicine.
He was gradually losing agency over his own life.
He once believed he needed no understanding—only conquest, victory, and awe from others.
Yet at the end of his tumultuous life, all he desired was "understanding."
A successor who could comprehend the true essence of his Esoteric Arts, to complete what he had left unfinished.
A most outstanding disciple to personally bid him farewell as he attained Nirvana, and to declare, "I will inherit all your will and continue your glorious legacy."
"Qingwei, after I meet 'Sentimental One,' you will get to see your junior brother," Chess Devil said with a laugh.
Master Qingwei immediately bowed and pledged, "Whoever Master chooses, this disciple will assist and support him until he grows into a true powerhouse!"
"Let it be so."
Before the words faded, a hearty laugh drifted up from the mountain path below: "Planning your final affairs now isn't too late."
Master Qingwei's expression shifted slightly: "The Calligrapher Sage has arrived."
In this world, those who dared speak to Chess Devil like this could be counted on one hand.
The Calligrapher Sage had also changed into pristine new robes today, spotlessly white and billowing in the wind, whiter than the sea of clouds beneath his feet.
Behind him followed a young cultivator in luxurious attire and a middle-aged scholar in blue robes—none other than Ji Chen and the Academy Head.
On the stone plateau halfway up the mountain, two groups had gathered in full force. Experts from Purple Cloud Temple and Azure Cliff Academy stood ready, awaiting orders.
"The hour of Chen has not yet arrived—you're early," Chess Devil remarked.
"Aren't you as well?" the Calligrapher Sage retorted, taking a seat on the opposite side of the stone table.
He marveled inwardly: previously, Chess Devil had been haggard from illness, looking half-dead, so why did he now appear radiant, as if experiencing a final resurgence?
Ji Chen stood rigid, palms sweating.
Even now, he didn't understand why the Calligrapher Sage had brought him along to this meeting between two top experts.
Noticing the relaxed expression of the yellow-dressed maiden across from him, he couldn't help but feel envious.
"Since I have found my successor, I will no longer contend with you in the future," Chess Devil stated bluntly. "If you still wish to take Wei Ping as your disciple, that is your prerogative."
"Excellent!" The Calligrapher Sage disliked his smug boasting. "This old man has also found a disciple and no longer insists on recruiting Wei Ping."
Assuming he referred to last night's top scorer in the Calligraphy and Painting Examination, Chess Devil glanced at Ji Chen.
Meeting that profound, inscrutable gaze, Ji Chen's heart tightened abruptly. He straightened his spine, not daring to relax.
Fearful that this esteemed elder might wonder in bewilderment:
Isn't this just a good-for-nothing? What is he doing here?But then they heard Chess Devil say, "Indeed."
Ji Chen was pleasantly surprised.
He thought to himself, ever since meeting Brother Song, his luck had inexplicably improved. He hadn't heard anyone call him "useless" for so long that he was almost getting unaccustomed to it!
Senior Brother Song truly was a lucky star. Next time, he must treat him to fine wine.
Chess Devil thought, although this young man wasn't as good as the Song Qianji he had found, he was still a decent catch for Duoqingzi.
Calligrapher Sage also thought, what a bargain for you, old devil. But since I found Song Qianji first, I shouldn't be so calculative.
Both believing they had the upper hand over the other, they exchanged smiles.
In nearly a hundred years, they had never met so peacefully, chatting face to face like two ordinary old men.
Today was a good day for taking disciples.
For this day, they were willing to let bygones be bygones with a smile, forgiving all the ugliness in the world, including each other.
Chess Devil looked at Calligrapher Sage again and found him not so detestable after all. He suddenly sighed:
"You and I are already useless. The world no longer needs Calligrapher Sage, no longer needs Chess Devil, no longer needs Qin Xian..."
Ji Chen was shocked. What are you saying?!
The only "useless" one in this Star-Picking Platform is me, isn't it?!
But Calligrapher Sage agreed: "This world needs new heroes!"
He found Chess Devil more agreeable now too. Some words usually remain unspoken in the heart with no one to confide in, but now he could finally speak his mind: "We are the ones who made the world's rules this way, yet we foolishly hope to find someone to break them." The chosen ones may seem fortunate, but they have to shoulder heavy burdens, saving both the world and themselves a hundred years later. Is that fair to them?"
"Duty-bound!" Chess Devil recalled how Song Qianji had sliced through the sky with his sword and trod upon the waves last night, laughing with high spirits: "My successor will surely succeed! What about yours?"
How could Calligrapher Sage show weakness?
"My successor naturally resembles my younger self - a remarkable and romantic figure. No, he's even more 'passionate' than I was. Some people have four parts of passion in their hearts but pretend to have ten; he has twelve parts in his heart but only shows four.
"He actually has a profound love for this world, so abundant that it overflows. Therefore, he will definitely succeed!"
Ji Chen felt a chill run down his spine.
Could it be that a great calamity will befall this Domain a hundred years from now?
Are you looking for someone to save the world and overcome the tribulation?
As a low-level cultivator like me, would peeking into heaven's will get me struck by lightning?
Maybe I should go down first. This place is too high, and it's rather cold.
But Calligrapher Sage and Chess Devil chatted more and more happily, like close friends who wished they had met earlier.
Many years ago, when they were young, they had drunk together, saved people together, risked their lives together, and even marched to battlefields together.
But they weren't friends. For most of their lives, they had schemed against each other, each wishing the other dead.
Later, as their cultivation grew and their status rose, they shouldered their respective sects, their every move affecting thousands.
Thus, they didn't even dare to have a fight, and couldn't even remain enemies.
Calligrapher Sage instructed the dean behind him: "From now on, when disciples from Purple Cloud Temple come to the academy, be sure to treat them well. Formation and Talisman arts share the same roots. More communication with Formation Masters will help them gain insights by analogy."
Chess Devil said to Qingwei Zhenren: "The same goes for academy disciples. Next year, hold a dharma assembly and invite them to Purple Cloud Temple for discourse!"
Ji Chen felt a wave of admiration. The friendship between big shots was so simple and forthright!
Higher than the heavens, deeper than the seas!
When will Brother Song and I reach such a state?
Chess Devil extended his hand. His five fingers were bony yet powerful, with thin calluses between them from years of handling chess pieces.
Calligrapher Sage extended his hand. His palm was pale and slender, also calloused from holding brushes.They were about to shake hands and make peace.
But as Chess Devil raised his hand, he revealed the stone table beneath his sleeve.
The stone table was carved with four lines of text, which Calligrapher Sage hadn’t noticed at first.
Then he heard Ji Chen softly exclaim in surprise, “Huh?”
He instinctively glanced at it.
In an instant, his expression shifted.
“What is this?” Calligrapher Sage asked, stunned.
“This was written by my future disciple—just four lines of doggerel, a humble offering,” Chess Devil said, though his expression was filled with pride, his eyebrows practically raised to the heavens.
“I’d take the spring breeze to add to my drunken wine…” Calligrapher Sage read aloud.
The first line was written with a free and unrestrained flair, carrying a hint of casual drunkenness.
The second line grew heavier in stroke, like a hidden dragon in the depths or a sheathed sword concealing its edge.
By the third line, “Who among the world’s heroes can stand as my rival?” the style of the characters abruptly changed, resembling a forest of spears and blades, with an overwhelming, domineering aura rushing forth.
The colder Calligrapher Sage’s tone grew as he read.
When he reached “Better than seeking immortality,” he stopped abruptly, his face ashen.
Who else could have written this but Song Qianji?
Ji Chen’s gaze followed, recognizing the all-too-familiar handwriting.
“Did you do this on purpose?” Calligrapher Sage looked up, his eyes coldly fixed on Chess Devil.
Chess Devil’s expression also shifted. He seemed to have considered a possibility: “He has already accepted my chess manual. Don’t try to snatch him from me this time. I can let you have Wei Ping.”
“The brushwork of this poem reeks of drunkenness. You must have taken advantage of his intoxication to force the chess manual on him! You schemed this!” Calligrapher Sage flicked his sleeve and abruptly stood up.
“Ha! I am the Chess Devil—of course, my schemes are devilish tricks!” Chess Devil laughed in fury. “What, did you expect a beauty trap? That would’ve scared you to death!”
Calligrapher Sage seethed with hatred, wishing the other would drop dead on the spot.
So he cursed expressionlessly, “You devil.”
Ji Chen wanted to laugh but, affected by the oppressive aura, turned pale and trembled.
The friendship between these big shots was more fragile than paper! More fleeting than clouds!
It didn’t even need to be torn apart—a mere gust of wind could scatter it.
My bond with Brother Song must never be like this!
Chess Devil also stood up.
The two faced each other, locked in a standoff.
The sea of clouds churned, and the mountain wind turned sharply cold.
True Person Qingwei tightened his grip on his horsetail whisk, while Dean Qingya clenched an iron brush in his sleeve.
Halfway up the mountain, the elders and patrons sensed the change in aura at the summit and collectively ceased their cheerful chatter.
Tensions rose.
True Person Xuyun broke into a cold sweat, scrambling almost on all fours toward the mountaintop. He stood outside the pavilion and bowed: “I beg the two Sages to show mercy and reconsider!”
If a fight broke out at Huawel Sect, how many Star-Picking Platforms would be enough to destroy? Would the earth split and mountains crumble? Could the sect’s Grand Formation hold?
“Let him choose for himself!” Chess Devil suddenly roared. “Let’s each rely on our own abilities!”
“Fine, let him choose!” Calligrapher Sage flicked his sleeve and turned to descend the mountain.
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