At the end of Fleeting Water Bridge stood two figures. In the pale white mist, a blue robe and a purple daoist robe fluttered in the wind.
"Esteemed seniors, what is this?" Song Qianji was taken aback, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, "Afraid I'll run away?"
"Just in case, it's better if this senior brother escorts junior brother back to his residence," the Academy Head said.
The Temple Master stated: "This is a task assigned by my master, I dare not be negligent. Junior brother, please proceed."
They walked on either side, with Song Qianji in the middle.
Behind them followed two groups totaling over forty people - one from the academy, one from Purple Cloud Temple.
Superficially friendly yet secretly wary, both sides feared the other might attempt to snatch him along the way.
The procession moved with great fanfare, drawing attention everywhere.
This reminded Song Qianji of his last visit to Cosmos Palace, when he had been escorted all the way by Xu Kanshan and Qiu Dacheng.
"Esteemed seniors need not address me as junior brother - I don't deserve such honor," Song Qianji said.
"You personally stated you wanted a mountain peak. Doesn't that mean you wish to become Calligrapher Sage's disciple?"
Seeing Song Qianji's confused expression, the Academy Head kindly reminded him, "Painted Spring Mountain is also a mountain peak."
"How can Painted Spring Mountain be considered a mountain peak?"
Hearing this for the first time, Song Qianji found it absurd, "A normal mountain can be cultivated, can be watered, won't be kept in a box, and certainly won't suddenly fly out and crush people to death!"
The Academy Head maintained his scholarly rigor: "From afar it's a mountain, up close it's still a mountain - essentially it is a mountain. You could call it 'excessively normal,' but not 'abnormal.'"
Song Qianji clenched his fist in his sleeve, trying to explain: "I mean the kind that stays put every day, doesn't move, ready for planting anytime - a 'regular, normal' mountain peak. Do you understand, seniors?"
"Ah—this senior brother understands now." The Academy Head sighed.
Painted Spring Mountain was actually being rejected for being "too normal, not ordinary enough."
He smiled at Song Qianji: "Unfortunately, it's too late. My master has made up his mind."
"Junior brother, don't listen to his nonsense! It's not late at all!" Temple Master Qingwei Zhenren interjected, "The two Sages have reached an agreement to let you choose. If you choose Purple Cloud Temple, their academy wouldn't dare touch you."
"I choose neither," Song Qianji said without hesitation. "My aspirations lie elsewhere."
Qingwei Zhenren was taken aback.
Song Qianji tried to persuade him: "I come from mortal origins, my cultivation is low, my talent ordinary. I'm not worthy - this isn't appropriate."
"Junior brother is too modest," Qingwei Zhenren smiled. "Junior brother has noble interests and excels at chess, calligraphy, painting, and gardening. Everyone knows you lead the outer sect disciples through virtue, not force."
"No, I don't deserve such praise." Song Qianji felt embarrassed.
He fell silent and completed the journey without another word.
"Wang Tugen and Bai Lianlian" had appeared before the Grand Audience Assembly officially began - he had been marked since then.
Aside from writing talismans at Huawai City's pawnshop, he hadn't done anything else out of line.
Customers followed rules, shops practiced the "three don't asks" - only then could black market establishments operate long-term.
In his previous life, visiting black market shops felt like coming home; he'd handled plenty of shady business involving fencing and reselling, never encountering trouble.
This lifetime, he got caught on his first attempt.
Not only that - everything was different now.
At this moment in his previous life, he had been hiding in Huawai City disguised as a beggar or disabled person to evade the Huawel Sect's extermination order, narrowly escaping death multiple times.
This lifetime, he was about to leave openly, through the main gate.In his previous life, the cultivation world revered and feared him, calling him "Song Qianji the Hundred-Battle Survivor." But deep in the hearts of major sect cultivators and aristocratic clans, he would always remain a "rogue cultivator mud-leg"—someone who only knew how to settle matters with brute force, akin to a vulgar upstart or coarse ruffian in the mortal world.
This lifetime, he had somehow become a man of refined talents and elegance, fond of playing chess, composing poetry, and tending flowers—everything except resorting to violence.
Absurd. Truly absurd.
The Chess Devil's formation manuals, the Calligrapher Sage's "Painted Spring Mountain," Qin Xian's "Seven Wonders Zither," and even the Sword God's ultimate sword techniques—all these should rightfully belong to the savior Wei Zhenyu.
Aside from this absolute protagonist, who else could shoulder such heaven-sent opportunities, these hot potatoes?
What was the savior busy with now? Why wasn't he quietly amassing fortunes?
Wei Zhenyu, you're utterly useless!
Song Qianji cursed inwardly in his heart.
...
Down the mountain in Hua Wei City, at the Spring Breeze Bliss Pavilion.
The sleeping Wei Ping twitched his nose and let out a soft sneeze, exhaling a strong odor of alcohol.
"Who's cursing me?"
He mumbled indistinctly, pulling the soft brocade quilt over his head like an ostrich burying itself in the sand.
"Wei Ping, I've been searching everywhere for you!"
Suddenly, someone burst into the chamber, dragging him out of his warm nest.
The window was thrown open, letting the spring breeze sweep in and disperse the room's thick scent of wine and cosmetics.
Wei Ping reluctantly opened his eyes.
Freshly awakened, though his features remained disguised by the Invisibility Art, his eyes were dark and sparkling, dazzling like the morning star.
Li Ergou froze momentarily, instinctively releasing his grip.
The brilliance in Wei Ping's eyes flickered and vanished.
He glared angrily at the intruder and snapped, "People come to brothels to find women! What are you looking for me for?!"
After his outburst, Wei Ping kicked off the covers and got out of bed.
His robes were disheveled, boldly revealing his smooth, firm chest. He snatched the wine pot from the table and tilted his head back for a hearty drink to quench his thirst.
"I followed your teachings to participate in the chess trial, but the deciding game I played wasn't the most exquisite match of this Grand Audience Assembly," Li Ergou said.
Wei Ping was gulping down wine, his Adam's apple bobbing rapidly. Hearing this, he choked and burst into coughing:
"W-What are you saying? Cough, cough, cough!"
Li Ergou hurriedly patted his back.
Wei Ping wiped his mouth with the back of his hand: "If not you, then who? Did a star fall from the sky?"
"I first defeated Yao An, then beat Zhao Lin, but I couldn't surpass this person." Li Ergou took out a jade slip from his robe and handed it to him with both hands:
"Word from Purple Cloud Temple says that on the night of the chess trial, the Chess Devil played a game of blind chess with a young junior beneath the Star-Picking Platform—a rare marvel unseen in a century, a triple-ko cycle. The game record is here."
A meticulously crafted jade slip record, sold for just one spirit stone, was practically given away for free to many formation masters.
Some bought it to study, others for collection. The first batch of jade slips sold out instantly upon release.
Li Ergou treasured this record, extending both hands to receive it back.
He recalled Wei Ping's casually arrogant expression when making the promise, fearing he might fly into a rage and shatter the jade slip in fury.
They were mere passing acquaintances—he couldn't grasp Wei Ping's temper, much less fathom his background.
Wei Ping didn't get angry. He frowned as he studied it for a moment, the haze of his hangover gradually lifting, his eyes growing brighter:
"Interesting. Truly interesting!""This formation is called the 'Three Tribulations of Star-Picking'." Li Ergou felt genuine admiration. After obtaining the chess manual, it had taken him a full half-hour to comprehend its intricacies. "In today's Cultivation World, wherever there is ink and brush, everyone competes to copy the Hero Summons; wherever a chessboard is seen, all strive to master the Star-Picking tactics."
"And what is the Hero Summons?" Wei Ping asked.
"The entire Cultivation World knows of it, yet you don't?" Li Ergou exclaimed in surprise. "The Hero Summons are the four lines of poetry left by Song Qianji on the Star-Picking Platform. Here is the rubbing."
Wei Ping unrolled it: "Intending to add spring breeze to drunken wine..."
After reciting all four lines, his intoxication completely vanished.
"Why are three characters missing? What exactly is 'better than seeking immortality'?" Wei Ping demanded angrily.
"This is an incomplete copy! Who sold you this? Even the rubbing is incomplete—how unscrupulous!"
"The original itself is incomplete. No one has been able to guess the final three characters. Perhaps even the writer didn't know them." Li Ergou scratched his head, his smile simple and honest. "I believe the author intentionally left it blank. Perhaps he meant to say that although we cultivators seek truth and immortality, our hearts must always hold something—or someone—more important than pursuing divinity. If we abandon everything for the path to immortality, even achieving enlightenment would remain incomplete..."
Wei Ping fell silent, thinking that the brushstrokes showed no natural break—there must be more characters following. They had either been erased or concealed.
Li Ergou continued, "Because of those three blank characters, everyone who copies the Hero Summons sees their own reflection in it, rather than the original poet's intent. This summons will undoubtedly be passed down for generations, just like the unfinished 'Wind and Snow Array Entry Tune.'"
Wei Ping set down the jade slip and rubbing with a soft sigh. "I thought that after learning my chess strategies, though you might not rival the senior masters, you'd be invincible among your peers... It seems I miscalculated."
"No, it's not your fault!" Li Ergou insisted. "Song Qianji was originally obscure with low cultivation, unknown until he emerged spectacularly at the Grand Audience Assembly—something no one could have predicted. He wrote the Hero Summons, devised the Three Tribulations of Star-Picking, and taught Meng Heze. Aside from First Scholar He in the Music Examination, he overshadowed everyone else across the other three trials."
Wei Ping raised an eyebrow, a curious smile forming. "What was his name? Say it again."
"Song Qianji. 'Qian' as in 'hidden dragon in the abyss,' 'Ji' as in 'divinely adaptable,'" Li Ergou elaborated.
"Song Qianji," Wei Ping murmured softly. "Have you seen him with your own eyes?"
"I've had no such fortune," Li Ergou admitted. "They say both the Calligrapher Sage and the Chess Devil wish to take him as their disciple. Everyone is speculating about his choice, and some have already started betting pools. If you dress properly now and bring enough Spirit Stones downstairs, you can still place a bet!"
Wei Ping stood stunned. Amid genuine joy and relief, he felt a faint trace of loss and bewilderment.
His smile abruptly faded, replaced by a troubled expression as he glared at Li Ergou. "According to our prior agreement, if the matter failed, you were to come find me here, and I'd refund you twenty Spirit Stones. Now I have no money to give. What else do you wish to learn?"
Li Ergou shook his head. "What you've taught me is already sufficient. Any more, and I wouldn't be able to grasp it."
Wei Ping replied impatiently, "Then how about I kill someone for you? Pick an enemy worth twenty Spirit Stones!"
"Really, there's no need!" Li Ergou jumped in alarm. "I'm deeply grateful to you. If not for meeting you, I'd still be a destitute, nameless cultivator from a declining sect. From having nothing to soaring to the heavens—I dare not ask for more."
Wei Ping smiled faintly. "In that case, why are you still here?"Li Ergou, hearing the blunt dismissal, felt a mix of complex emotions: "I don’t understand. With skills like yours, why live like this? If you and your books stepped forward openly, you might even surpass that Song Qianji! A true rival—don’t you want to meet him?"
Wei Ping was truly peculiar, shrouded in mystery.
He seemed like a rogue who lived hand-to-mouth, occasionally helping others gain fame or commit murders, earning a few Spirit Stones to get by, acting purely on whims.
His whims came quickly and vanished even faster.
"Wei Ping, that’s not your real name either, is it?" Li Ergou asked.
"True or false, Wei Ping or Wei Fan—does it matter? Is there any difference?" Wei Ping took another sip of wine, his gaze sharpening. "Once you step out this door, you’ve never seen me."
"I understand." Li Ergou said no more, nodding with difficulty. "Anyway, I don’t remember your face, and there’s no one I could speak to. Take care of yourself."
After Li Ergou left, Wei Ping leisurely admired the jade slip and rubbing while finishing a pot of wine.
Then he rose slowly and knocked on the wall:
"Friend next door, eavesdropping by pressing against the wall isn’t very polite, is it?"
From the other side of the wall came a dull thud, as if something heavy had fallen.
Moments later, a young cultivator in opulent brocade robes, adorned with jewels, pushed the door open and offered an apologetic smile. "I didn’t mean to. The building is designed this way—it’s convenient for guests to eavesdrop for entertainment."
To Zhao Jiheng, the Spring Breeze Pleasure House was his second home.
He spent more time here than at the Huawel Sect. He knew every plant, every type of wine, every tune, and every guest room better than he knew the Huawel Sect’s Cultivation Methods.
Seeing the chess competition champion go upstairs, he thought he’d met a kindred spirit, but the other’s serious expression didn’t suggest he was here for women.
After Li Ergou entered, Zhao Jiheng curiously slipped into the neighboring room and quietly opened the sound-transmitting pipe to listen.
Now, seeing Wei Ping wasn’t angry, his smile widened with the thrill of uncovering secrets:
"You taught Li Ergou his chess skills, didn’t you?"
Wei Ping smiled back. "Would you like to learn?"
"I—" Zhao Jiheng began, but a chill shot through his neck, stiffening his entire body.
An icy sword aura pierced his skin, seeping into his bones. Instantly, his hairs stood on end as if gripped by giant hands.
Glancing down, he saw a sword.
How could it be just a low-grade sword? Yet it held him completely immobilized.
In this critical moment, Zhao Jiheng’s rusty mind raced.
This sword looked so familiar!
Where had he seen it before?
"Who are you? Why are you holding Song Qianji’s sword?!"
Wei Ping paused. "Whose sword?"
That night at the black-market pawnshop, this shabby, low-grade sword had lain among several dazzling, gem-encrusted famous zithers on the table.
Like a drab pheasant among phoenixes, utterly inconspicuous.
But he had taken a liking to it at first glance, finding it perfectly suited to his taste, and had stubbornly insisted on buying it from the pawnshop.
So, Song Qianji had also visited the black-market shop that night and left behind a Profiteer Talisman.
They had almost crossed paths.
"Song Qianji—this is Song Qianji’s sword!" Zhao Jiheng’s voice trembled with tears. "Did he send you to kill me?"
Wei Ping withdrew his hand, stroking the sword with a smile. "Fate indeed," he murmured to himself.
Zhao Jiheng’s legs gave way. Gasping heavily, his face turned as pale as gold paper.
Having narrowly escaped death, he scrambled up on hands and knees. "I have—I have many Spirit Stones! I’ll give them all to you! Help me once, just like you helped Li Ergou. Please?!"He thought Wei Ping was saying they had a connection.
Wei Ping looked at him with a smile: "What matter?"
Zhao Jiheng: "Help me kill Song Qianji?"
Hateful Song Qianji, terrifying Song Qianji.
This thought had lingered in his mind for a long time, and today it finally slipped out.
But Wei Ping said: "No."
"Why? Are you afraid of him?!"
"It's not that I'm not strong enough, it's just that the spring breeze on Huawel Mountain is too chilly!" Wei Ping stretched lazily and straightened his disheveled clothes, "Let's talk about it in midsummer."
"You can wait for a meal, but this matter can't wait!" Zhao Jiheng reached out to grab his sleeve.
But he saw the figure flash and drift out the window.
Zhao Jiheng rushed to the window, looking down.
The long street remained the same, bustling with crowds, carriages and horses flowing like water.
That person blended into them, like a drop of water merging into the sea, vanishing without a trace.
He faintly heard a burst of laughter and a few lines of off-key singing: "A thousand joys and ten thousand drunken revels, a wanderer on earth, an immortal in heaven."
Zhao Jiheng leaned against the window frame, shaking his head violently.
He was shocked to discover that he could no longer clearly remember that person's appearance.
No matter how hard he tried to recall, that ordinary face remained blurred.
Could it have been a dream?
There had never been a strange man named Wei Ping, and Li Ergou, the top scorer in the chess examination, hadn't come either.
I'm still not sober.
Zhao Jiheng stumbled downstairs in a daze, nearly tripping.
Friends greeted him along the way, beauties tried to stop him, but he paid no attention, standing blankly in the street.
Suddenly, a cloud of dust rose as a person wearing Huawel Sect Deacon robes rushed toward him: "Deacon Zhao is severely injured! Stop playing around and come back with me quickly!"
Zhao Jiheng was greatly alarmed, instantly casting the strange incident to the far corners of his mind:
"If it's so urgent, why come to me first? Quickly take him to Redwater Peak, find Peak Lord Zhao Taiji, and get a life-restoring Revival Pill!"
The messenger deacon's face turned pale and then green, crying anxiously: "It was Peak Lord Zhao who injured him in his rage."
"How is that possible?!" Zhao Jiheng murmured, "I'm still dreaming, right?"
This terrifying Cultivation World!
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