“The Min clan,” the National Preceptor said, his tone indifferent, as he spoke that surname.

Qingyi froze for a moment, her expression blank, but very quickly — as though she had recalled something — her complexion changed. She looked over with some hesitation, pressed her lips together, and said: “You already know everything?”

“What is it that your master should know?”

“The Min clan — your disciple has encountered a clansman bearing that surname.”

“And so?”

Qingyi raised her head and said: “That person said that Master is an evil master, that you seized the fortune of the Min clan and caused the extermination of their entire line.”

“Do you believe it?”

“I do not believe it. Master is the National Preceptor of this dynasty, revered by ten thousand people — how could you do such a thing?” Qingyi shook her head.

The corner of the National Preceptor’s lips curved into a peculiar arc: “No — you do believe it. If you did not, why would you have gone sneaking off to search through the historical records?”

Qingyi’s face went white.

“What if your master were to say that it truly happened? What then would you do, A’Qing?” The National Preceptor held her gaze and said: “Would you stand against your master on behalf of that person’s grievance?”

Qingyi said nothing. Her phoenix eyes opened wide, as though she had been frightened.

“Answer me.”

“Does Master have some hidden suffering that drove him to do this?” Qingyi looked at him and said: “Master never does anything without reason. Whatever you have done, there must be a cause you believed warranted it.”

“And what if it were nothing more than personal desire? Or perhaps the fortune of one clan was exchanged for the peace of all people under heaven, for the sake of a supreme great path — does A’Qing believe your master was right or wrong?”

The National Preceptor smiled and continued: “If one day it became necessary to use the fortune of an entire clan to save the people of this world, what would you choose, A’Qing, and what would you do? To kill one person is a sin — but to kill one person in order to save ten, is that also a sin?”

Qingyi knitted her brows and said nothing. After a long silence she finally asked: “So Master exterminated the Min clan for the sake of bringing peace to the people?”

The National Preceptor stepped forward and reached out to undo her already loosened small bun, then re-pinned it, saying: “No matter what your master’s reasons were — whether for personal desire or for the people — what could you do about it? If what your master has done runs contrary to what you believe in, even if you were to champion the cause of the Min clan, what means do you have at your disposal right now? What could you actually accomplish?”

Qingyi’s body stiffened slightly, her lips pressing together.

“And so — if you wish to achieve the great path you hold in your heart, if you wish to protect the way you believe in, your people, your world — you must become stronger. At the very least, stronger than your master. Otherwise, even if you do not agree with your master’s way, even if you wish to stand up for the Min clan, what would you use to defeat your master? Tears? Or splashes of spit?” The National Preceptor smiled as he used the hairpin to secure her bun, then took the formation disc from her hands and departed gracefully.

To become the one powerful enough to set the rules — only then do you have the right to speak of your path!

His words drifted back on the wind.

Just as the National Preceptor had said, Qingyi was far more perceptive than her peers. Though he had spoken at great length, she had ultimately distilled everything down to one point: what Min Qingfeng had said was true. Regardless of what Master’s original intentions had been, the Min clan had been exterminated because of him — that was fact.

Then what of Min Qingfeng?

Though Qingyi had already guessed at his fate, she still quietly made her way to that Feng Ya’s territory, wanting to investigate for herself.

Feng Ya heard his ghost general say that the little one had come again. His brow arched upward, and with a flash he appeared before Qingyi. Looking at the trace of gloom between the young girl’s brows, he said: “Since ancient times, the righteous and the wicked have never stood on the same side. You, a proper Celestial Master of righteous lineage, are freely entering and leaving my realm of the underworld — is this a provocation, or are you truly not afraid of death?”

“Where is Min Qingfeng?”

“You ask me — what is it you want to confirm?” Feng Ya sprawled lazily on the couch, glancing at her sideways with a wicked look: “You came here already knowing the answer in your heart, did you not?”

Qingyi’s spirits sank. She stood rooted to the spot without moving.

Feng Ya watched her sitting there with that stiff little face of hers — she wasn’t quite at the point of crying, but her expression was certainly not pleasant.

He said nothing, made no move against her, only idly used a small incense spoon to stir at the ash in the nearby incense burner.

Unexpectedly, the other party followed suit and sat up onto the couch as well, settling on the other side of the small table, casually picking up an incense stick and pressing flat the ash he had been stirring.

So familiar!

Feng Ya’s eyelid twitched. He laughed out of irritation: “You truly are not afraid of death.”

He suddenly forced out a thread of dark underworld energy and shot it toward her — the energy transforming into feathered arrows, cold and bone-piercing, sharp as a blade.

Hum.

A surge of blazing righteous energy erupted from Qingyi’s entire body — pure and scorching, like a ball of fire — and incinerated those ghostly feathered arrows.

First exchange.

The deep, pitch-black depths of Feng Ya’s eyes lit up. He launched a second strike — this time an ice seal, using his underworld energy to conjure frozen ice that encased the entire space. As for the little one, her eyes showed no panic either — only excitement.

Without the slightest alarm, she formed a hand seal, drawing upon the energies of the five elements, extracting the moisture from the ice that Feng Ya’s underworld energy had created, and bringing with it a small whirlwind. Within the wind, it was as though thunder was rumbling—

Puchi.

A cluster of true flames was born from her hand. She flicked it outward in all directions — even onto Feng Ya’s person.

Thunderfire.

This was fire born from within water, possessing the quality of lightning flashing like golden serpents, of clouds driving iron horses at full gallop. With this fire released, the solid ice dissolved into water and waves of heat rolled through the space.

Feng Ya’s eyes darkened. His underworld power reached directly for her spirit-soul.

The small child’s mind stirred — she used her righteous energy to form a shield around her true soul, rapidly chanted a spell incantation, and her body blazed forth a ray of golden light, clashing directly against that underworld power.

Both of them were pushed back two steps. They exchanged a glance.

Continue fighting?

Forget it.

Truce.

The two of them settled back onto the couch. For a moment, neither spoke, yet there was no sense of awkwardness.

Feng Ya himself was amused by the atmosphere. It was only their second meeting — how was it that there was not the slightest bit of awkwardness or unfamiliarity between them? He couldn’t help but glance at the little girl again.

At this moment, the young girl’s gaze had gone vacant. There was a trace of confusion on her face that belonged to her age, and she said candidly: “What Min Qingfeng said is true. My Master — he truly is the chief culprit who caused the extermination of his clan.”

“Oh? Your master, a practitioner of evil arts — how did he raise a disciple with such blazing righteous energy as you?”

“He is not an evil practitioner.” Qingyi immediately defended him, saying: “As you said yourself — a practitioner of evil arts, how could they raise someone like me? He is not. He… must have had his reasons.”

“Oh.” Feng Ya said with a smile that was not quite a smile: “Yet the way you’re making excuses for him — why does it sound just a little guilty?”

Qingyi lowered her head: “I cannot comprehend it. What kind of hidden reason requires leaving not a single survivor of an entire clan? Master’s magical arts are formidable, he is revered by ten thousand people — what kind of reason is so difficult to resolve that he could not even preserve a single remaining heir of the Min clan?”

This was her confusion and bewilderment. Master was no mediocre figure — even if he truly needed to use an entire clan for some purpose, if he had truly wished to preserve even a thread of their bloodline, he would always have found a way.

And yet the truth was: the Min clan had been exterminated entirely.

Feng Ya said: “You are no innocent child who knows nothing of the world. Since you’ve already thought it through, why torture yourself over the truth? Even if the truth were laid out plainly before you, what could you do about it? Little ghost — strength is the supreme way that determines everything. Your own strength is the foundation that determines what path you’ll walk in the future. Even if you want to overturn your master’s table one day, you’ll need strength greater than his to do it — otherwise, just be a sensible old one who turns a deaf ear and a blind eye!”

“You’re right — so let’s dual cultivate!” Qingyi blurted out without warning.

Feng Ya: “?”

The ghost general: Pfft!