Sect Leader Immortal Xu Yun murmured: “That person is still alive… still alive!”

He stamped his foot, neither crying nor laughing, all the wrinkles on his face twitching together.

Completely contrary to his usual dignified and solemn appearance, he looked quite comical.

Song Qian Ji remained silent.

If you want to find out whether Xian Jian Chen is dead or alive, isn’t it simple?

Just shout his name in Qian Kun Hall and see if lightning strikes.

It’s not like the lightning would kill anyone. Even if you shouted at the frequency of three meals a day, it would just make a bit more noise.

What kind of psychological shadow had Xian Jian Chen cast on them that made a group of top-tier experts willing to act like ostriches?

He forgot that even “ostriches” treat people differently.

“Insolent youth seeking death!”

A thunderous roar, a streak of fire shot straight at Song Qian Ji’s face.

More precisely, it was sword energy as scorching as fire.

The entire hall was enveloped in it, the temperature instantly rising.

Among Hua Wei Sect’s five Peak Masters, Chi Shui Peak’s Master Zhao Tai Ji was known for his most explosive temper.

In a fit of rage, his first move was lethal, intending to strike down this Outer Sect disciple who had caused such a calamity on the spot!

Song Qian Ji didn’t move a muscle.

The sword energy approached his face, the heat wave blowing his bangs.

To others, he seemed petrified with fear.

One second before the sword energy pierced his throat, a figure appeared in front of him.

Sect Leader Immortal Xu Yun swept his wide sleeves.

The scorching light in the hall dissipated without a trace. Only the cold moonlight remained, slanting across the glazed bricks.

“Senior Brother?!” The Chi Shui Peak Master exclaimed in anger. “Why do you stop me?!”

Sect Leader Immortal Xu Yun said: “That person and this youth once had a half-master friendship!”

After speaking, he ignored Zhao Tai Ji and turned to Song Qian Ji: “Considering your unintentional mistake, I shall spare you this once! Remember, you must never speak that name in this hall!”

“This disciple understands.”

The expressions of the five Peak Masters in the hall subtly changed.

Half-master friendship?

They exchanged a different kind of complicated, dark, and penetrating gaze, examining Song Qian Ji from head to toe, inside and out.

A fourteen or fifteen-year-old youth, in old clothes and cloth shoes, unable to hide his handsome features.

Though respectful, he was neither awkward nor fearful.

He stood righteously in the magnificent immortal palace as if he had returned home, and they, the senior experts, were the guests.

They detested this righteousness because it reminded them of “that person” in his tattered robes.

Zhao Tai Ji, who had just attacked in anger, twitched at the corner of his eye, his fist clenched inside his sleeve but eventually relaxed.

In the world, “living people” who knew the name Xian Jian Chen were already rare.

Those who had never seen him but revered him called him “the old master Sword Immortal.”

Those who had seen him and feared him only dared to say “that person” or “that sword.”

As long as “that person” lived for one more day, a sharp sword would hang over Hua Wei Sect’s Qian Kun Hall and the heads of the Sect Leader and Peak Masters.

This was a taboo, a secret, and a humiliation.

Who could have imagined that tonight, an Outer Sect disciple would walk into Qian Kun Hall with muddy cloth shoes, as casually as an after-dinner stroll, and reveal it so simply and directly?

His status was low, his cultivation even lower, and his face was full of innocence, which was extremely irritating.

Yet they couldn’t do anything to him.

Because that person had seen him, taught him, and left him a message.

When Sect Leader Immortal Xu Yun recalled this message now, he no longer felt it was a kind reminder, but rather mockery and reprimand:

“Dead Sea lotus falls, life gate opens in the clouds.”

Each word struck him hard in the face.

He had failed to break through to the Spirit Transformation realm and needed the “Dead Sea Silver Lotus” as medicine to heal his wounds. However, the Dead Sea was vast and dangerous, and the Silver Lotus had special spiritual properties, blooming for only one night before withering.

His trusted subordinates had searched for a long time without success, and he had been about to give up.

Yet Xian Jian Chen had casually found an Outer Sect disciple and told him “Life gate opens in the clouds,” meaning that he should look in the “Life Cloud Strait” area of the Dead Sea.

This kind of whimsical, off-the-cuff guidance was exactly like when he had pointed at him years ago and made him the Sect Leader.

Through Song Qian Ji’s casual handwriting, Xu Yun seemed to see Xian Jian Chen smiling and saying:

You became Sect Leader and held the position for two hundred years, not because you were capable.

Only because it pleased me.

He silently inhaled. When he spoke to Song Qian Ji again, he had regained his dignified calmness, even resembling a kindly elder:

“The senior who taught you was a disciple of our sect hundreds of years ago. Only because of some misunderstandings did he leave the sect to travel far. Since he acknowledges you, I should continue to guide you…”

Song Qian Ji feigned aspiration, his eyes bright.

Xu Yun continued: “But his seniority is too high. Although there is no formal master-disciple relationship between you two, there is one in reality. If I were to accept you as a disciple, it would disrupt the hierarchy. Not just me—any Peak Master or Elder of Hua Wei Sect cannot disrupt this hierarchy.”

Song Qian Ji showed a look of disappointment.

Xu Yun changed his tone: “The Breath Concealment Technique and Lightness Technique you learned were created by that senior after he left the sect, and indeed do not count as our sect’s techniques. I already know about the Meng disciple’s case in the Disciplinary Hall. He is innocent, but the sect has its rules. To simply let him go would not be by the rules, nor would it convince others!”

Song Qian Ji again put on a nervous expression: “Then how should he be dealt with?”

“Destroying his cultivation base isn’t necessary. However, we must force him to leave the mountain,” Xu Yun sighed regretfully, though his words were cruel. “You taught that disciple with good intentions but ended up harming him. From now on, his life or death will be determined by fate.”

Song Qian Ji bowed: “Since it is my fault, I am willing to take his place and request to leave the mountain myself!”

“Really?” Xu Yun hadn’t expected such smoothness and was momentarily stunned. “You are willing and swear not to harbor resentment for this?”

“I am willing!”

Xu Yun raised him with both hands, praising him repeatedly: “Good child, good child! When you leave the mountain tomorrow, I will surely send someone to escort you!”

After all, he was young at heart—just a bit of provocation and he was ready to play the hero.

Song Qian Ji also smiled: “I dare not trouble the Sect Leader.”

What a straightforward person, how comfortable it is to play this game with you!

The five Peak Masters exchanged glances, not expecting it to be so simple, and collectively sighed in relief.

They had also feared that Xu Yun would shrink back and instead appoint one of them to be Song Qian Ji’s master.

If this brat were kept under their noses, seeing him would remind them of “that person”—hating the crow for its nest, who could bear it?

They couldn’t kill him, and they couldn’t accept him.

It was the old fox, Xu Yun who was deeply skilled, confusing him away with a few words—out of sight, out of mind.

Even if the boy later woke up and regretted it deeply, he would hate that Meng disciple, not them.

Song Qian Ji bowed again and took his leave.

The six Hua Wei Sect experts kindly smiled, bidding him farewell warmly, creating an atmosphere so harmonious it was frightening.

****

When Song Qian Ji walked out of the hall, his first sight wasn’t the bright moon over the sea of clouds, but those two Disciplinary Hall disciples.

“He came out! He came out completely intact!” the taller one shouted first.

Song Qian Ji nodded, in a good mood.

The three of them returned, stepping onto the Bridge of Flowing Waters.

The taller one looked back: “It was so strange just now, sudden thunder and wind. I thought I would be struck dead!”

The shorter one snorted lightly: “If you do no wrong, you need not fear the sound of knocking at midnight!”

On the way there, the two had walked in front of Song Qian Ji, leading the way. On the way back, Song Qian Ji strode like the wind, with the two of them running to catch up.

The taller one asked: “When are you going to the gambling house below the mountain? My name is Qiu Da Cheng, he’s Xu Kan Shan. Let’s be friends, and we’ll bet with you in the future!”

“I’m leaving the mountain tomorrow. Not going to the gambling house.”

The shorter one, Xu Kan Shan, asked: “When will you return?”

“I won’t be coming back!”

Qiu Da Cheng was startled and cried out: “You were expelled from the mountain?!”

Song Qian Ji nodded.

Xu Kan Shan jumped up: “No way! After all this trouble through the night, you still ended up taking the blame for your unfortunate brother. What’s the point of that?”

Yet looking at Song Qian Ji, they saw no trace of resentment; rather, he radiated a faint joy from within.

The two followed behind him in a daze, feeling his silhouette grow taller the more they looked.

Like gazing up at a lofty mountain.

For some reason, they even envied Meng He Ze a little.

****

Before daybreak, Song Qian Ji had already packed his bundle.

There wasn’t much to begin with. He didn’t plan to bring his sword; the bundle only contained old clothes.

He only regretted that he had just turned over the soil in his courtyard and hadn’t had time to plant anything.

Since Sect Leader Immortal Xu Yun had told him to leave “tomorrow,” he didn’t depart overnight, as that would seem too eager and might arouse suspicion or reversal from the other party.

He wanted to slip away while Meng He Ze was recovering in the infirmary and while that group of Outer Sect disciples led by Zhou Xiao Yun had no time for him.

So he kept his courtyard gate tightly closed, pretending he was still at the main peak and hadn’t returned.

He hadn’t expected those two Disciplinary Hall disciples, Qiu Da Cheng and Xu Kan Shan, to spread the news.

This caused Meng He Ze to sit up suddenly despite his critical condition, having people carry him on a stretcher.

“We’ve come to apologize,” Zhou Xiao Yun spoke first. “I’m sorry, Senior Brother Song, we previously misunderstood you.”

The young woman’s face flushed, but her voice was firm and clear as she bowed neatly.

Behind her, several people shouted “sorry” in unison.

Song Qian Ji held his forehead.

“Senior Brother Song, what kind of sword do you use? May I borrow it to see?” Zhou Xiao Yun asked.

Song Qian Ji: “Why?”

A disciple who had previously cursed him scratched his head embarrassedly:

“We pooled some money and planned to buy you a good sword.”

Song Qian Ji: “…That’s not necessary.”

“Senior Brother Song, please don’t refuse. Let us do something for you.”

“There’s no need. I won’t need a sword anymore.” Song Qian Ji smiled with genuine relief from the heart. “I’m leaving the mountain today!”

The small courtyard suddenly fell into a dead silence.

Only the sound of wind blowing fallen flowers could be heard.

Even the magpie’s call from the branches seemed desolate.

Meng He Ze, lying on the stretcher, finally spoke:

“No.”

His voice was hoarse. His face was pale as a ghost, his eyes sunken, staring straight at Song Qian Ji.

“Don’t overthink it,” Song Qian Ji looked at the sky. “I’m willing to leave the mountain. Look at this Hua Wei Mountain—red flowers bloom and yellow leaves fall, blue clouds roll and purple clouds unfurl, seemingly without end.

“Mortals are different. Mortal life is short; a few decades pass in the blink of an eye.”

Thinking that just days ago he was still obsessed with the path to immortality, suddenly giving up seemed unreasonable. Better to put on an appearance of disillusionment.

Song Qian Ji finally sighed: “Three years on Hua Wei Mountain—I’ll just consider it a dream.”

Meng He Ze’s Adam’s apple moved, his voice trembling slightly:

“Senior Brother Song, you are the most hardworking, most remarkable person I’ve ever met. You shouldn’t end up like this.”

Zhou Xiao Yun and the others also showed sorrow in their eyes.

They no longer called him Song Luo, but sorrowfully addressed him as “Senior Brother Song.”

Song Qian Ji comforted them: “In this world, there is no ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t,’ only ‘can’ or ‘cannot.’ Everything is fate, and this just isn’t my fate.”

Fate? Those who schemed against others prospered, while Senior Brother Song’s dreams were shattered. It was only hatred for heaven’s blind eye.

A sense of injustice burned in Meng He Ze’s chest, burning until his eyes reddened.

How could Song Qian Ji accept fate? Why should he accept fate? Having once seen the great Dao to heaven, who would willingly return to being a mortal?

“I will never let you sink into the mortal realm. As long as I have breath, I will help you ascend the immortal path!” The youth suddenly raised his hand, pointing to the sky and swearing, “I, Meng He Ze, vow that when my cultivation succeeds, I will come down the mountain to find you. Otherwise, I…”

“Cough! Cough! Cough!” Song Qian Ji widened his eyes in disbelief, quickly pressing down his finger.

I have no grievance against you, why are you determined to harm me?!

“Senior Brother Song.” As Meng He Ze was about to say more, suddenly a gust of wind swept by, and a flash of red appeared before their eyes.

That person didn’t even knock but kicked the door open and barged in.

As if there was no place in Hua Wei Sect where she couldn’t go.

She wore a butterfly-shaped hairpin that reflected the morning sunlight, swaying with each step.

Dressed all in red, with a long whip at her waist.

Meng He Ze and the others didn’t recognize her, but they guessed her identity from her dress and behavior, becoming uncertain and no longer speaking.

Song Qian Ji was also taken aback.

Last night in Qian Kun Hall, the Sect Leader had mentioned sending someone to escort him down the mountain tomorrow.

But he thought it was just a polite remark, to set a time, urging him to leave quickly.

This was good; being escorted meant he could leave earlier.

Song Qian Ji immediately bid farewell to Meng He Ze and the others:

“No more talk, I should go.” Then he turned to Chen Hong Zhu, smiling before speaking, looking at her as if she were a wealth-bringing deity. “Thank you for your trouble, Senior Sister Chen.”

When Chen Hong Zhu met his gaze, she thought of something, her expression changing again, followed by great anger:

“What are you smiling at? Don’t smile!”

Song Qian Ji stopped smiling and picked up his bundle: “Fine, let’s go.”

“Wait.” Chen Hong Zhu snorted lightly: “Thank the Young Lady first!”

Song Qian Ji didn’t ask why: “Thank you, Senior Sister Chen.”

“Of course, you should thank me!” Chen Hong Zhu laughed loudly because of his obedience: “I’ve come to tell you good news!”

Song Qian Ji suddenly had an ominous premonition in his heart.