The Yaochi Celestial Stone Parlor was serene and graceful. Between its courtyards grew rare trees and precious herbs, with source stones scattered throughout—arranged like ornamental rockeries, each placement carrying an understated elegance.

Its layout was meticulous: a murmuring stream, a vine-covered pavilion, source stones dotted everywhere, together creating a sense of freshness, as though one had returned to the embrace of nature.

“Has the celestial maiden who descended on Pingyan City from Yaochi—is she really their Saintess?”

“Word has it that the Saintess of Yaochi is making a circuit through the Northern Reaches. It’s very possible she came personally—otherwise the stone parlor wouldn’t have closed its doors this morning.”

Many had come here with one purpose: a chance to glimpse the Saintess’s true face.

For Yaochi’s fame was immense. It had spread not only across the Eastern Wasteland but reached into the Central Province and the Northern Desert. It was regarded as the sacred ground most imbued with immortal grace, its women blessed with the spiritual wisdom of heaven and earth.

Many young men from powerful factions considered it an honor to take a maiden of Yaochi as a wife—yet almost none ever achieved it. Even grand ancient families with formidable strength, even the major sacred grounds with their deep foundations, could only look on from afar.

Disciples of Yaochi almost never married outside. This was even more true of the Saintess herself. Across all the long ages, there had been only one or two instances of a Saintess becoming another’s wife.

Ye Fan suddenly noticed someone watching him. He turned to look, and saw a young man in violet robes standing not far away—surrounded by attendants like a moon amid stars. Beside him were several familiar faces: he had seen them all at the Rongxiang Gambling Parlor, where they had served at Liu Cheng’en’s side. Now they all deferred to the violet-robed man.

“Azure Mist Sect people.” Ye Fan frowned slightly, though he felt no particular worry. At his current level of cultivation—having reached the Other Shore—he was at least something of a capable fighter.

While he couldn’t compare to the heirs of sacred grounds, within a sect of modest scale, he would absolutely be considered one of the so-called “young talents.”

This person is no weakling either. Ye Fan was somewhat surprised—the opponent had also reached the Other Shore.

The violet-robed youth swept him with a near-contemptuous glance, then turned away. Those nearby cast unfriendly looks in Ye Fan’s direction, exchanging quiet words.

Ye Fan let out a cold smile and paid them no mind. The Ji Family had filled him with dread; the Yao Guang Sacred Ground had wielded genuine power. None of them had been able to do anything about him—he certainly wasn’t going to fear an Azure Mist Sect “talent.”

“Mine-monkeys—haven’t gone back to your shaft yet? You made off with all that source and you’re still not satisfied?” One of the Azure Mist Sect’s people walked over, every word dripping with provocation.

“Have you come to pay back the source?” Ye Fan gave him a cool glance. “If not, get lost. You’re an eyesore.”

This was merely one of the Azure Mist Sect’s servants—and even he dared speak this way. Naturally Ye Fan was not going to give him a pleasant expression.

“You… you’ve got nerve. Even in Pingyan City you dare act recklessly? You actually made Young Master Liu Cheng’en write a promissory note—do you have any idea what that means?”

“He owes me source and comes here with threats and intimidation. Are you speaking on behalf of the Azure Mist Sect?” Ye Fan cast him a glance. “A mere servant dares to run his mouth. Get lost!”

He spoke the rebuke lightly. To others it was nothing, but to the servant’s ears it crashed like thunder from the sky. His ears rang, and he sat straight down onto the ground, face drained of color. “You…”

Not far away, the group stiffened. The violet-robed youth took slow, measured steps in Ye Fan’s direction. He looked down at him. “Quite the prestige you carry.”

“You flatter me.” Ye Fan answered without interest, not even looking at him—his gaze remained on the beautiful scenery of the Yaochi Celestial Stone Parlor.

“You think that was a compliment? As expected from someone who only knows how to dig in a mine.” The man beside him sneered.

“Someone of your cultivation would only be able to understand it that way.” Ye Fan glanced at him, then turned and cut off Wang Shu and Er Lengzi before they could approach—waving them off to stay back and not get involved.

“I hear my younger brother Liu Cheng’en owes you ninety pounds of source—is that true?” the violet-robed young man asked coolly.

“That’s correct. Have you come to pay his debt?” Ye Fan replied unhurriedly.

“Produce the promissory note. I want to see whether it’s genuine.” The violet-robed youth held out his hand coldly, demanding Ye Fan hand it over.

Ye Fan drew out a slip of paper, held it between two fingers, and extended it toward him.

The violet-robed youth didn’t even look at it—he passed it directly to one of those beside him. “Examine it carefully. Is this Cheng’en’s handwriting?”

“It’s a forgery. There’s no possible way this is a promissory note written by the Second Young Master—this is clearly fabricated.” The man who received it didn’t even look at it. He tore it to pieces on the spot, then ground the fragments between his palms, reducing them to powder that drifted down to the ground.

“You really do have audacity—even daring to try to deceive me, and throwing mud at Cheng’en.” The violet-robed youth smirked coldly, fixing his gaze on Ye Fan. “You lot are truly desperate for money, aren’t you?”

“A few mine-monkeys—how could they possibly know how to read stones? Obvious extortionists. We need to show them a lesson before anyone’s temper cools.”

“Drag them outside. Beat them half to death.”

Those nearby all began shouting, moving to seize Ye Fan and haul him away.

“This is outrageous!” Er Lengzi’s eyes had gone red. Watching the promissory note being torn apart, he was ready to throw himself forward and fight to the death.

“How can you do this?!” Wang Shu was equally furious and indignant, yet felt utterly powerless. The Azure Mist Sect was a genuine faction—nowhere near what their stone village could stand against.

“You take this too far. Are you not ashamed of such methods?” Ye Fan’s voice turned cold. At the same time he held back Er Lengzi and Wang Shu.

“What are you babbling about, brat? Who owes you source?” someone from the violet-robed youth’s group barked.

“Produce a real promissory note—or we’ll break your legs today. Attempting extortion at your age!”

“I…” Not far away, Er Lengzi looked ready to charge forward and bite several chunks out of them.

“Teach these mine-monkeys a lesson. Unless they hand over several dozen pounds of source, we’re not letting them go today.”

“No need for words—just drag them out and beat them half dead first!”

Those around the violet-robed youth closed in from all sides, reaching out to drag Ye Fan away. They didn’t dare strike inside the courtyard, for fear of provoking Yaochi’s wrath.

“Everyone back off.” Ye Fan swept his gaze across them. “You want to see the promissory note? I’ll let you see it very clearly.”

He produced another slip of paper—but rather than extend it forward, he simply held it up before everyone’s eyes for a moment.

“This is…” The one who had torn up the earlier paper showed a startled expression. This was unmistakably the real promissory note. The one he’d destroyed without looking at had been the decoy.

The violet-robed youth glanced back at him—and that single look made the man flinch. Then fury flashed in the man’s eyes, and he lurched forward to snatch the real note.

“You have quite some nerve. In broad daylight, in plain view of all—you dare make a scene at Yaochi’s Celestial Stone Parlor? You truly hold the celestial maidens of a sacred ground in no regard?” Ye Fan raised his voice sharply, letting it carry far.

Ahead, everyone who had come to gamble on stones heard it and turned to look.

“What’s happening?” A clear and melodious voice rang out—a young woman of the Yaochi Celestial Stone Parlor inquiring.

“Please forgive us, celestial maiden. We exchanged a few heated words on impulse.” The violet-robed youth turned and clasped his hands respectfully toward the front.

From somewhere between the halls and towers ahead, the sound of a guqin drifted out—and no further questions came.

“Well played, mine-monkey.” Every one of those around the violet-robed youth shot Ye Fan a furious glare.

“What—are you still thinking of causing trouble here? Or shall we invite a celestial maiden of Yaochi to come and settle this?” Ye Fan looked at them with a cold smile.

The violet-robed youth flung his sleeve and walked forward. The others followed in his wake.

“Boy, you keep that promissory note somewhere safe—don’t lose it.” One of them cast a menacing look back, his words carrying a chill.

“Rest easy. I’ll keep it safe, and wait for you to come and repay the source.” Ye Fan gave the note a light flick of his fingers, then tucked it away into his sleeve.

The inner courtyards were even more tranquil. A small lake lay ahead—though modest in size, the water was clear as glass. Old vines crept along its banks in profusion, beautiful beyond words.

Along the banks, source stones were arranged in clusters and formations, giving an impression of natural scenery.

At the edge of the lake, built out over the water, stood a pavilion building. Immortal mist drifted around it; the structure lay half-hidden among ancient trees, enveloped in lush greenery and veiled in a gossamer haze.

Music like sounds from paradise—the strains of a guqin—drifted from within, cleansing the soul and bringing involuntary relaxation.

Guqin tones flowed on, tender and contained, fresh and expansive, their lingering charm inexhaustible.

Though the green canopy stood between them and the mist obscured the view, one could almost imagine it: in that pavilion, a celestial maiden sat lightly plucking the strings—transcendent, untouched by the dust of the world, beautiful enough to stop the breath.

It was as though a dreamlike vision had surfaced: clouds drifting, jade towers half-seen amid the mist, a flawless woman standing alone on the clouds…

The music made the heart rise and fall with its rhythm, moving with every note.

Ye Fan’s heart shook. This person’s mastery was extraordinarily refined—no less than Hua Yunfei’s, approaching the realm of Dao!

Yes, the guqin’s sound carried a strange power—it could move a person’s very spirit.

At that moment, every fish in the lake had gathered before the pavilion, swaying their heads and tails as though in dance, completely lost in the music.

Whether or not she is the Saintess of Yaochi, this is certainly someone of remarkable, breathtaking talent. Ye Fan thought to himself.

“This is a disciple of Yaochi. Their Saintess has truly come.” One of the old men said so aloud.

Ye Fan turned and looked—it was the same group of distinguished old men whom Er Lengzi had given such a hard time earlier.

“How do you know?” Er Lengzi, unabashedly familiar, stepped up to ask.

The old men’s faces were dark. Not one of them acknowledged him, speaking among themselves.

“The Saintess of Yaochi is known throughout the Eastern Wasteland—her identity is anything but ordinary. Her arrival here will likely draw no small number of outstanding young talents.”

“I just spotted someone from the Jiang Family not long ago. The Yao Guang Sacred Ground has also sent someone—a junior who clearly thinks quite highly of himself. I’ve seen him before in the Sacred City.”

“A number of people have turned up. There were also a few young ruffians—if those scoundrels are thinking about seizing the Saintess of Yaochi, that would be quite something.”

“Yaochi truly is exceptional. Whether in our day or this one, those of the same generation have never been able to resist the pull of their immortal grace.”

These old men were clearly of extraordinary backgrounds. Ye Fan was quietly relieved that he hadn’t given them offense. He believed that someone of their standing would think nothing of Er Lengzi’s manner of speaking.

At the same time, he was genuinely surprised. From what these old men were saying, outstanding talents from multiple sacred grounds had come. The appeal of the Yaochi Saintess was evident.

Ding dong.

A final trembling note sounded, and then the guqin music faded—gentle, lingering, and still.

The pavilion’s wooden door swung open. Several beautiful, otherworldly women emerged one after another, the last of them draped in what seemed like moonlight, like an immortal flower about to bloom. She was hazy and indistinct, impossible to see clearly—and yet she gave the impression of absolute flawlessness.

A graceful, willowy figure, wrapped in a radiant glow—it was as though she stood in the Palace of the Moon, sacred and remote, giving the sense that she would forever be beyond reach.

“What are you mine-monkeys doing here, crowding in?” someone nearby said mockingly.

Ye Fan felt a flash of irritation. Without meaning to, he had ended up standing near the violet-robed young man’s group again.

“Is this Azure Mist Sect territory? If not, keep your mouths shut.” Ye Fan swept them with a glance.

“Fine, fine, fine—stay stubborn for now. There’ll be plenty of chances to make you regret it.” Those around the violet-robed youth all sneered.