Song Qian Ji fell asleep while waiting for dinner.

It wasn’t his fault he succumbed to spring drowsiness; blame the spring breeze for being too gentle, the dusk for being too amber, the flower fragrance for being too intoxicating.

The reclining chair Zhao Ji Heng sent was too comfortable, the cushions too soft, like a warm nest of a small animal filled with fluffy dry grass.

In his previous life, he replaced sleep with meditation and breathing exercises. Even when exhausted to the extreme, he always had a sword at hand and could draw it at any moment.

Even after moving into the immortal palace atop the mountain, where the sleeping quarters were equipped with the most intricate and powerful formations, he still considered sleeping a waste of time and unsafe.

His dream was infused with the scent of wisteria flowers. There was a barren mountain where not a blade of grass grew, a wasteland where soil and water had eroded.

Day by day, he toiled diligently, undeterred by cold or heat. As spring passed and autumn came, vast stretches of wasteland finally transformed into an oasis.

Song Qian Ji was so immersed in farming that he was reluctant to wake up. Vaguely hearing noisy voices, he opened his eyes to see Meng He Ze untying his apron with one hand, poised to fight someone.

With his pleasant dream shattered, he instinctively frowned and first called out “Little Meng.” Then, focusing on the three unexpected guests at the door, he couldn’t help but smile:

“Please come in.”

So the fashionable circle of second-generation cultivators from Qingya Academy favored various shades of green this year. Fortunately, they preferred waving fans rather than wearing hats.

As the three crossed the threshold, they intended to criticize Song Qian Ji for his inhospitable manner but saw him with a smiling face.

It wasn’t the fawning or ingratiating smile they often saw; nor was it a hostile cold smile or sinister grin.

A smile that left them bewildered.

By volunteering to come ahead, they had prepared themselves to face either arrogance and provocation or fawning and pleading.

They had strategies for either situation.

But they certainly hadn’t prepared for this—Song Qian Ji finding something amusing and laughing genuinely from his heart, without any restraint.

He even dismissed the tense young Meng: “It’s nothing.”

The three finally realized that this person simply didn’t take them seriously!

The one in water-green robes was about to angrily rebuke him, but the one in onion-green brocade shook his head to stop him.

Song Qian Ji had just been sleeping and hadn’t heard their identities. Better to give him another chance, so they introduced themselves again:

“Three of the Six Worthies of Qingya have come to visit Daoist Friend Song. These two are Zeng Liang Jun of the Zeng family from Yanshui County and Cao Bo Xue of the Cao family from Fuyang County. I am from the Zhan family of Chongwen County, grandson of the Three Truths Patriarch, and son of the Iron Brush Daoist Lord. Though unworthy, I am Zhan Deng Gao.”

By the stove, Meng He Ze heard this and thought the introduction was too long—what a waste that they weren’t reciting a menu.

Song Qian Ji still wore that smile: “Oh, hello. Have you eaten yet?”

The three were taken aback.

Only ordinary people asked if others had eaten; cultivators rarely greeted each other this way.

Was this some kind of mockery?! Mocking their insufficient cultivation?

Zeng Liang Jun, in water-green robes, was the youngest and most impatient. He retorted: “I’ve long since abstained from grain. What business is it of yours?!”

As soon as he finished speaking, Meng He Ze placed a bowl of noodles steadily on the stone table:

“Senior Brother Song, be careful, it’s hot.”

A celadon bowl of simple noodles, with a few drops of aromatic sesame oil.

Water-red radish cubes, emerald green scallions, and fresh vegetables.

So he had been asking if they’d eaten, and the three men’s faces flushed red.

Then they revealed contemptuous looks—how dare he serve such food to guests?

We only eat the finest delicacies; how could such rustic, coarse food be worthy of our palates?

But a natural fragrance wafted from the noodle bowl, lingering around their noses, refusing to dissipate.

“It’s none of my business,” Song Qian Ji said as he began using his chopsticks. “I haven’t eaten yet.”

He ate at a measured pace, focused on chewing, without saying a word.

Thus the situation became even more awkward.

Song Qian Ji sat while they stood.

Song Qian Ji ate while they watched.

The three stared intently at the bowl, harboring great resentment.

It’s just a bowl of plain noodles, why take it so seriously?

We said we don’t eat, couldn’t you show some courtesy and insist?

This person is indeed formidable, with deep schemes, hiding daggers in his smile, needles in silk, yet leaving them with no recourse!

“Senior Brother Liu, when will you arrive? Hurry up!”

Perhaps the heavens heard their internal prayers and couldn’t bear to torment them further.

Song Qian Ji finally finished eating. Meng He Ze brought freshly brewed tea.

And down the flower-lined path leading to Song Courtyard came three more noble young men.

“Is this Song Courtyard?” the youth in pale green asked with a smile.

Zhou Xiaoyun sized up the visitors. Pale green, bean green, pine-smoke green.

She thought to herself that the scallions in Senior Brother Song’s vegetable garden should grow this well someday.

Smiling outwardly, she said: “Yes, it is. But which scallions might you be?”

Seeing their unpleasant expressions, she realized her mistake and covered her mouth: “I meant to ask the three Daoist friends’ esteemed names and what business you have with Senior Brother Song.”

The youth in pale green announced in a resonant voice: “Three of the Six Worthies of Qingya—Liu Tian Han, Wei Hong, and Kang Jia Xu—request to see Daoist Friend Song.”

The three “scallions” inside immediately brightened, hurriedly rushing outside to stand beside the other three, forming a line with heads held high and chests puffed out.

Well done, well shouted! Song Qian Ji should come out to them—why should they go in?

Before those outside could call again, Song Qian Ji had already come out with Meng He Ze.

The courtyard was small, planted to capacity.

If three more people squeezed in, what if they knocked over or trampled his flowers and vegetable seedlings?

But the later three misunderstood, thinking their reputation was so resounding that it echoed throughout the world, and couldn’t help but reveal smug smiles.

“What exactly do you want?” Meng He Ze asked coldly.

Liu Tian Han smiled: “We’ve heard that Daoist Friend Song has lofty interests and uncommonly refined tastes. In his eyes, flowers are as dung, and beautiful women are as skulls—no different at all.”

Song Qian Ji thought, what nonsense are you spouting: “I wouldn’t dare claim that.”

With the words “beautiful women are as skulls,” everyone knew they had come on behalf of Immortal Lady Miao Yan to cause trouble.

Before long, amid crowing chickens and barking dogs, swirling dust, a large group of Huawei Sect’s outer disciples rushed to Song Courtyard’s entrance.

With strength in numbers, they eyed the visitors with hostility.

The Six Worthies of Qingya had heard that Song Qian Ji held an extraordinary position in the outer sect, so they weren’t surprised by this scene.

“Everyone, please don’t be nervous; we mean no harm,” Wei Hong smiled. “It’s just that we don’t believe there’s truly someone in this world who can’t distinguish beauty from ugliness. At Qingya Academy, we pursue knowledge to its roots. When we encounter puzzles and difficulties in our daily studies, we must get to the bottom of them!”

“Indeed! Our academy is reasonable in all matters and won’t cause trouble unreasonably or wrong others!” Zhan Deng Gao declared proudly. “Nor would we reverse black and white, knowing something is beautiful in our hearts while refusing to acknowledge it verbally, instead speaking disrespectfully and seeking attention.”

“We just want to ask Daoist Friend Song to meet someone,” Zeng Liang Jun said excitedly. “If Daoist Friend Song can still repeat that saying after facing this person, we’ll leave immediately, without another word!”

“Meet whom?” Song Qian Ji’s curiosity was piqued.

The later arrivals—Liu Tian Han and his two companions—suddenly moved aside.

As they made their way, they revealed the person hidden behind them.

That person had a slender figure, wearing a simple white dress without any decorations.

A veil covered her head, with gauze hiding her face, making her features indiscernible.

When she stepped forward, people couldn’t help but stare at her.

Judging by her figure, she was a young woman. Though her face wasn’t visible, her figure was graceful and flowing, delicate yet full of charm. As she moved, she displayed the demeanor of a willow bending in the breeze.

Zhou Xiaoyun secretly marveled—so this was the beauty that couldn’t be concealed even by thorny hairpins and plain clothes. By a female cultivator’s aesthetic standards, she truly envied the other’s appearance.

The white-robed woman was completely wrapped in clothing and veil, with only her hands exposed.

Her fingers were long and well-proportioned.

Her nails were neatly trimmed, her knuckles strong, and her fingertips slightly calloused, which didn’t detract from the beauty of her hands but added a certain resilient grace.

—These were a musician’s hands, ones that had suffered hard work and daily practice.

The evening sunlight gilded her glossy nails, giving them a faint redness.

Many couldn’t help wondering, even if the first beauty Immortal Lady Miao Yan, most skilled in the art of the zither, were to show only her hands, could they be more beautiful than those before them?

Only Meng He Ze smirked coldly.

With Senior Brother Song’s self-control, even if you brought not just one beauty but ten unclothed beauties to dance before him, he wouldn’t even raise an eyebrow.

Zhou Xiaoyun asked softly: “Daoist friend, what is your name?”

Without moving her veil, the person answered in a low voice: “He Qing Qing.”

Her voice trembled, revealing timidity, like a frightened white rabbit, making her even more pitiable.

“‘The orchids grow in spring and summer, how lush and green’—what a beautiful name!” From among the outer disciples, someone praised, followed by a chorus of admiration:

“She lives up to her name, like orchids and fragrant plants.”

“To think Qingya Academy has such a beauty!”

The young woman’s figure couldn’t stop trembling, as if she were shy.

The Six Worthies of Qingya smiled, with strange expressions.

Zhou Xiaoyun found this simply dressed young woman much more pleasing to the eye than those bejeweled, extravagantly dressed young masters, and smiled:

“Daoist Friend He, hello.”

But the young woman retreated, almost falling, trembling more violently: “Y-you too, you are good…”

Zhou Xiaoyun finally sensed something wrong. This woman wasn’t shy but terrified like a startled bird.

Had no one ever greeted her before?

To the point where she didn’t know how to respond?

“Daoist Friend Song is a celebrity in Huawei Sect, and this junior sister of mine is also quite famous at Qingya Academy,” Liu Tian Han smiled. “Today I’ve specifically brought her here and request that Daoist Friend Song do us the honor of taking a look!”

As he spoke the last four words, his tone suddenly became harsh, and he violently pulled off the white-robed woman’s veil!

The young woman, as if slapped hard, cried out in shock and quickly lowered her head to hide.

But it was too late—her face was exposed for all to see.

A face without features!

As if burned by raging fire or hacked by swords, red swollen scars criss-crossed her face, completely obscuring her features.

A pitch-black color showed through the scars, like some living thing pulsating, about to break through the skin.

The evening sun’s last rays shone down, but upon meeting this face, immediately turned cold and eerie, filled with ghostly energy.

Human or ghost.

A human body with a ghost’s face.

“Monster!” someone screamed.

Then screams rose in succession as people scattered in chaos, stepping on each other’s feet, bumping shoulders, and rushing to escape the “monster.”

Had they seen her normally, they wouldn’t have reacted this way, but today the contrast was too great.

Seeing others screaming and fleeing, they couldn’t help but follow the crowd.

Outside Song Courtyard, people fell over one another.

The Six Worthies of Qingya had anticipated this and remained motionless.

They laughed with delight.

You brought this on yourself, they thought. You dared disrespect the beautiful Miao Yan, so now face the ugliest monster!

Amid the chaos, Liu Tian Han suddenly extended his hand and gave He Qing Qing a hard push from behind!

The “monster” suddenly stumbled toward Song Qian Ji.

Meng He Ze gripped his sword: “Senior Brother, be careful!”

The Six Worthies of Qingya smiled even more deeply.

As expected, anyone having a monster lunge at them would instinctively attack.

This was completely a normal cultivator’s instinctive reaction when extremely frightened, disgusted, and repulsed.

If Song Qian Ji were provoked into attacking and injuring someone, then their counterattack to protect their fellow disciple would be entirely reasonable.

Do you claim you can’t distinguish beauty from ugliness? Then why would you be frightened into action upon seeing Junior Sister He?

He Qing Qing stumbled forward, tightly closing her eyes.

She was accustomed to enduring pain, thus her face showed no expression, and not a single tear fell.

“Are you all right?”

Unexpectedly, she wasn’t struck, nor did she fall to the ground. Instead, a pair of hands steadied her.

She smelled the fragrance of wisteria flowers and heard a voice above her head—cool, yet gentle.

He Qing Qing opened her eyes to see a handsome young man with a tall figure supporting her.

In his eyes was only surprise, without any other emotion.

Even the surprise vanished in a flash.

Meng He Ze thought that was close; this person didn’t come to harm Senior Brother Song.

Song Qian Ji also thought that was close; if I hadn’t reacted quickly enough, she might have knocked over my bean pod trellis.

Bean pod seedlings were so delicate—how could they withstand such an impact?

Song Qian Ji supported her and walked forward three steps.

Making sure they were away from the vegetable garden, he finally released her hand. Looking up at those across from him, he asked with confusion: “So what exactly did you want to show me?”

His confusion was genuine.

He had seen evil practitioners cultivate venomous insects inside living people. After a long time, even if the insects were removed, the victims’ faces were already damaged beyond repair without cutting flesh and scraping bone. He had seen many such cases and was no longer surprised.

In his previous life, with peers for comparison, the evil master’s Blissful Zen wasn’t even the most insidious or vicious cultivation method.

He instinctively glanced at Meng He Ze.

Meng He Ze was slightly stunned, then lowered his head in shame. It’s just a female cultivator of a low cultivation level with an unusual appearance. I overreacted just now, which naturally displeased Senior Brother Song.

What noodles should I cook tomorrow?

The terror of the Six Worthies of Qingya was also genuine.

They watched as Song Qian Ji steadied He Qing Qing, seemingly oblivious to that ghostly face, and even calmly walked three steps forward.

As Song Qian Ji advanced, the six retreated, sweating profusely with pale faces.

They all thought simultaneously: Is this person unable to distinguish beauty from ugliness?

More like unable to distinguish human from the ghost!

That Meng fellow wasn’t normal either.

The Outer Song Courtyard was truly terrifying.