Song Qian Ji chuckled: “Want a mirror, do you? How about I apply some rouge and powder for you and buy you new clothes too?”

“That won’t be necessary. How could my Master’s natural charm be concealed by such worldly things? Even without makeup, I still outshine that consumptive ghost.”

Song Qian Ji: “Say a few more words, and we’ll soon experience Purple Cloud Temple’s formations!”

Before he finished speaking, the forest rustled with activity as people arrived from all directions.

They wore deep purple cloud-patterned Daoist robes, emerging from all sides, some holding whisks, others holding formation disks.

Their expressions were solemn as if facing great enemies.

Surrounded by the crowd, Xian Jian Chen was quick to shift blame, pointing at Song Qian Ji: “Look at your crow’s mouth, getting your Master into trouble!”

Song Qian Ji pointed at himself: “Huh? Me again?”

Xian Jian Chen turned and shouted: “Little Qing Wei, where’s your master? What, doesn’t he want to see this Master?”

The Chess Ghost was old and sickly, having withdrawn from worldly affairs for many years, refusing to see outside guests. To the people of Purple Cloud Temple, he was more like a spiritual symbol, an ace card that would never be played.

Knowing he was there was enough.

The true leader with authority was True Person Qing Wei, who had inherited the position of temple master.

Song Qian Ji had dealt with him once at Hua Wei Sect and vaguely remembered him as a rigorous and meticulous cultivator.

True Person Qing Wei bowed respectfully: “Honored guests have arrived at our door, forgive our failure to welcome you properly. My master is gravely ill and cannot receive guests. Please understand.”

“No need to trouble him with brewing tea. This Master just wants to see him once, then I’ll leave.” Xian Jian Chen’s tone was insufferable.

True Person Qing Wei said solemnly: “Sword Immortal, our Purple Cloud Temple has enjoyed peace for a long time. In these chaotic times, we only seek to stay out of trouble. Please don’t make things difficult for us!”

The cultivators who stepped forward were all older, at least at the peak of the Golden Core realm. Though their eyes revealed fear as they looked at Xian Jian Chen, not one of them stepped back!

Song Qian Ji nodded and tugged at Xian Jian Chen’s sleeve: “Understood. We’ll leave now.”

He could understand their concerns. The news of their visit to Purple Cloud Mountain wouldn’t remain secret for long.

Nowadays, whoever “harbored” Song Qian Ji and Xian Jian Chen would become enemies of the Hua Wei Sect and the “Righteous Immortal Alliance.”

If the two of them entered Purple Cloud Temple and met with the Chess Ghost, who would believe they hadn’t reached some secret agreement or planned something?

After Xu Yun advanced to half-step Nascent Soul, the situation in the cultivation world changed dramatically. And Xian Jian Chen was severely injured, without his life-bound sword. This was the perfect time for enemies to seek revenge.

If Thousand Canals lost the war, other sects supporting Thousand Canals would surely face repercussions afterward.

With the Chess Ghost around, there would be nothing to worry about. But if the Chess Ghost died, Purple Cloud Temple would indeed be unwise to actively participate in the conflict for years to come.

Xian Jian Chen coldly smiled: “If you’re driving me away, then I’m even less inclined to leave.”

Purple Cloud Mountain was bathed in crimson sunset, its verdant forests like a sea of blood.

True Person Qing Wei’s forehead was covered in cold sweat, but he was prepared: “Sword Immortal, forgive my rudeness. Please, both of you board this purple cloud and leave the mountain quickly.”

As his words fell, a fierce wind suddenly rose, tearing apart the colored clouds.

The purple mist covering the mountain instantly intensified, turning into layers of surging clouds. Even between the grass, rocks, pavilions, and towers, an indescribable terrifying pressure emerged.

Xian Jian Chen laughed heartily: “The great formation of Purple Cloud Temple! This Master has seen it in his youth!”

As he spoke, he pushed Song Qian Ji forward: “Your turn, disciple!”

Song Qian Ji was so angry he wanted to draw his sword—not to cut through the approaching purple clouds, but to hack Xian Jian Chen.

Why not go to the edge of the continent and just part ways?

“Wait—” a crisp voice rang out.

From within the purple mist, a figure in goose-yellow clothing lifted her skirt and rushed out, “Let them in.”

True Person Qing Wei said helplessly: “Who told you to come?”

The Purple Cloud Temple members lost control of the formation and were shocked: “Junior Martial Aunt!”

The purple mist was carried away by the mountain wind, revealing the pretty face of a young woman in yellow clothes.

Li Ying shut down the formation: “This is Master’s wish.”

Then she turned to the visitors: “Master wants to see an old friend. Sword Immortal, Song King, please follow me.”

She stood straight, her expression serious, displaying a dignified, professional demeanor.

The Purple Cloud Temple members bowed to her: “We’ll escort Junior Martial Aunt!”

True Person Qing Wei sighed deeply: “This way, please!”

The mountain path was long, and the sky gradually darkened. A flock of tired crows flew across the sunset glow.

The empty mountain was silent of birdsong, with only the echoing footsteps of the three people.

Li Ying suddenly spoke: “Senior Brother Song, it’s been so long, so very long since we last met. I never imagined I would see you here today. Outside, they all say you’re dead… ahem, I mean, I never, ever believed you were dead, not for a moment. But seeing you safe makes me so happy.”

Just now she had been calm and dignified, but now she seemed somewhat incoherent: “When I heard Senior Brother Qing Wei say that the Sword Immortal always travels alone, and the person with him must be Song Qian Ji, I ran to tell Master, then ran out to meet you. My hair might be messy from the wind. Our Purple Cloud Mountain forbids flying, which is troublesome…”

Xian Jian Chen shook his head secretly.

But Song Qian Ji listened patiently, occasionally nodding and saying “Mm.”

Li Ying kept talking until she realized she had said too much: “I’ve talked so much. Don’t you have anything to say to me?”

Song Qian Ji thought seriously for a moment: “You’ve grown taller.”

Li Ying instantly relaxed and said softly: “The unseen parts grow faster.”

Song Qian Ji deeply resonated with this: “You’re right.”

He wondered how the plants and flowers in Song Courtyard were doing, how those seeds he had planted before leaving were faring after several spring rains. Had they already sprouted, growing branches, with abundant flowers and leaves?

Li Ying didn’t know what he was thinking about, only seeing a smile in his eyes.

The evening breeze brought the fragrance of hydrangea flowers, and the sunset glow reddened the young woman’s face.

Xian Jian Chen couldn’t bear to watch anymore: “Hey, that’s enough from you!”

Song Qian Ji thought he was being inexplicable: “What did I do now?”

Xian Jian Chen held back repeatedly, then transmitted: “Your Master summons a formation to be activated, while you summon a beautiful young lady to guide us. Your face carries more weight than mine, making your Master lose face.”

“…”

Song Qian Ji thought to himself, I’ll eventually shove you into a lotus jar and plug your dog mouth with mud.

Fortunately, Xian Jian Chen didn’t have to endure for too long.

Li Ying muttered to herself: “Why does the path seem shorter today? We’ve barely had a chance to talk.”

Xian Jian Chen looked around: “Young lady, aren’t we going up the mountain? It’s almost night. Isn’t your master stargazing at the peak?”

“Sword Immortal, Master moved to the valley floor three years ago. The mountaintop is windy and dewy, and stargazing is taxing—not suitable for someone ill. The valley floor is warm as spring, with a humid climate, and with the spirit-gathering formation, the spiritual energy remains rich and doesn’t dissipate.”

“So he’s not watching stars anymore.” Xian Jian Chen suddenly asked: “Does he still drink tea? This season has his favorite Purple Golden Jade Dew.”

Li Ying shook her head: “Sword Immortal is joking. Purple Golden Jade Dew is cold in nature and conflicts with medicinal properties—not suitable for frequent consumption.”

“He must still… still play chess, right?”

Li Ying shook her head again: “Chess drains mental energy, and analyzing chess positions is even more exhausting. When the urge to play chess arises, he just handles a few chess pieces, considering it as having played.”

Xian Jian Chen was speechless for a moment.

Song Qian Ji also had nothing to say.

The mountain path returned to silence.

The sunset was still magnificent.

Stargazing harms the eyes, chess harms the heart, and tea harms the stomach and spleen.

When life reaches its end, must one abandon all the things one has loved throughout life?

Song Qian Ji wondered if Xian Jian Chen, despite being a bastard, was still human—was his silence a sign of sympathy for his kind?

“We’ve arrived,” Li Ying said with some reluctance. “Master has another guest today, so I won’t accompany you further. Oh, I forgot to mention, after Master stopped drinking tea, stargazing, and playing chess, he developed a new little hobby…”

Li Ying coughed lightly as if convincing herself: “Just a harmless little amusement.”

The valley was serene, and the sunset was gradually sinking.

A small bamboo house, bathed in the glow of sunset, was quietly hidden among the flowers.

Song Qian Ji took a few steps and sensed another powerful presence, his thoughts stirring.

Had the Chess Ghost become interested in reading, writing, and self-cultivation?

Xian Jian Chen, with his more sensitive perception, had already rushed in. Fearing he might cause trouble, Song Qian Ji nodded to Li Ying and hurriedly followed.

Inside the small bamboo house, the Chess Ghost, whom they had imagined to be in a pitiful state, was slapping the table and shouting:

“I’ve got a leopard! Didn’t expect that, did you? Hand it over!”

“Year Enters Divine?” Xian Jian Chen stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide. “Du-Duo Qing Zi? It is you?”

The Calligraphy Saint pushed his chips with one hand and touched the domino cards with the other, completely at ease: “If you can come today, why can’t I?”

The Chess Ghost extended a trembling finger, making a gesture of deep anguish: “Song Qian Ji, you little one, you’re hanging around with him? What benefits did he promise you? It’s like making a deal with a tiger!”