The Spring Mountain Painting was originally a floating mountain in the sea.
The Calligraphy Saint had secluded himself on the mountain for a breakthrough, comprehending the laws of space, refining the mountain, and condensing it into an extremely small treasure box.
Whenever the box was opened, the majestic mountain would fly out from nowhere, violently colliding with reality’s space, causing large-scale collapse.
A great mountain pressing down, reducing everything to ashes. The scene was brutal and domineering, without any scholarly demeanor.
Fortunately, such a scene hadn’t appeared for many years.
Not because the Calligraphy Saint had become more merciful or gentle with age, but because all his powerful enemies had died. No one remained worthy of his action, let alone using such terrifying means.
When you’ve proven your strength, people listen to your reasoning.
The Calligraphy Saint gradually became the world’s most reasonable and ritual-observing great Confucian scholar. He established Qingai Academy, then retired at the peak of his accomplishments, passing the academy to the current headmaster.
And the Spring Mountain Painting rested quietly in its treasure box. Like a beauty whose prime years have passed and been forgotten, her silk dress faded, her dressing case gathering dust.
Qingai Academy claimed to have thirty thousand in blue robes. As long as students were thick-skinned enough, they could call themselves “disciples of the Calligraphy Saint,” yet not one could truly inherit his mantle.
More than half of the academy’s students came from cultivator families, including many heaven-favored talents, but none were the successor he sought.
When the proper path failed, he turned to hidden paths, opening black shops across the Four Continents—rice shops, pawnshops, rouge shops, and more—conducting business that couldn’t see the light of day.
A year ago, he discovered Wei Ping at a rouge shop in Fengling City.
Now, at the pawnshop in Huawei City, he had discovered another youth worth a look.
“Huawei City, eh,” the old man smiled. “Isn’t the upcoming Dengwen Assembly being held at Huawei Sect?”
“Indeed,” the headmaster replied. “Our academy’s students have already arrived at Huawei Sect. Earlier, True Person Xu Yun sent his senior disciple with a personal invitation, asking you to judge the ‘calligraphy and painting’ competition’s champion. But you disliked his handwriting and told me to attend in your place.” He turned to look at those behind him. “The Flying Cloud Tower is ready. We were just about to depart today to join our students at Huawei Sect.”
“Oh?” the old man recalled for a moment, puzzled. “I disliked Xu Yun’s handwriting?”
Everyone nodded vigorously.
“I’ve changed my mind!” the old man declared candidly. “Come, let’s all go join the festivities.”
When he said go, he meant to depart immediately, as if going out for a stroll.
As for his sudden visit catching Huawei Sect unprepared and causing chaos, that was someone else’s problem.
A Flying Cloud Tower raised a fierce wind and soared into the clouds, heading west toward Huawei Sect.
News that the Calligraphy Saint would personally attend the Dengwen Assembly spread across the Four Continents within a day.
Talisman masters from across the world traveled day and night, gathering at the foot of Huawei Sect’s mountain, hoping for the chance to see the sage.
Previously, the Calligraphy Saint would have found such news troublesome and irritating, but now he couldn’t help but smile:
That young man who declared he wanted my mountain peak, if he knew I was coming, he must be very excited, right?
What is he doing now?
Ah, probably working tirelessly on his talismans, preparing to attract my attention.
Song Qian Ji sneezed.
He was holding a small carving knife, engraving characters on wooden tags, indeed working hard.
Many wooden tags had already been inserted into the soil beside various crops in his courtyard, with parts visible above ground reading: Eggplant, Green Onion, Cabbage, Wisteria, Virginia Creeper…
As if giving a name to each little life nurtured by his own hands, he carved each wooden tag meticulously, stroke by stroke, like carving flowers on tofu.
He was a hundred times more serious than when he casually wrote that talisman at the black shop last night.
This way, even if someone else “couldn’t recognize bean plants,” they wouldn’t mix up the names.
Potatoes were the first vegetables he planted, having special significance. He placed a tag for each potato seedling: Earth One, Earth-Two, Earth-Three…
The potato flowers with their light purple petals and tender yellow centers trembled in the breeze, their emerald leaves brushing against the small wooden tags below, as if greeting them.
“Senior Brother Song! Today’s new seeds!” Meng He Ze burst through the door, tossed down three or four bags of seeds, and rushed toward the stove. “I’ll cook some noodles!”
Song Qian Ji gently blew away the wood shavings from the knife tip: “You’re about to break through. Your energy is unstable, avoid being impetuous these next few days.”
“Senior Brother noticed?” Meng He Ze was a bit anxious. “Will I be able to break through smoothly?”
Song Qian Ji smiled: “Of course.”
Meng He Ze sighed with relief. It seemed as if one sentence from Song was enough to calm his nerves.
“Don’t cook noodles, I need to go out.”
Song Qian Ji had finished carving all the wooden tags. As he put down the carving knife, Meng He Ze timely handed him a wet towel to wipe his hands. “Where is Senior Brother going? What business do you have? I can do it for you.”
“Yaoguang Lake, to collect some silt for growing lotus roots. I don’t need your help.”
Besides the two vegetable patches outside his door, Song Qian Ji’s small courtyard had vegetables on the ground, hanging flowers on the racks, and vines climbing the walls—apart from the stone table, lounge chair, and other necessary spaces, there was no place left to plant, above or below.
Fortunately, under the eaves by the stone steps, though there was no soil, there was enough space for two water vats.
He had recently acquired a bag of lotus root seeds, each smooth and round. They would sprout after soaking for two days—what a pity not to plant them!
Song Qian Ji’s hands and heart itched with eagerness, determined to add two vats of lotus under the eaves.
But growing lotus roots couldn’t use the existing soil in the courtyard; lake bottom silt accumulated over years would be best.
Meng He Ze handed him a dry towel, smiling: “Such a minor task, how could Senior Brother Song trouble himself? I could open the courtyard door and call out, and immediately hundreds or thousands of disciples would be willing to serve you!”
“Nonsense,” Song Qian Ji lightly scolded, taking his storage pouch and leaving.
Soil also had life; he wanted to select it personally.
Meng He Ze followed behind him: “I’m not making this up!”
Indeed, he wasn’t exaggerating. The outer court of Huawei Sect had changed.
Disciples finished their day’s work and left, never doing extra for a little reward that would waste their time. Those seeking Song Qian Ji’s guidance had to avoid mealtimes, as no one wanted to hear Senior Brother Meng chase them away.
With Song Qian Ji around, they no longer needed to worry about the Teaching Hall elders’ moods. Instead of the previous fierce competition and comparisons, they now preferred cooperation.
While they became comfortable, many others became uncomfortable.
The Steward’s Hall was the first to feel uneasy, as no one worked overtime, endangering the output of spirit stone mines. Inner court disciples were also uncomfortable. Previously, they could offer small benefits and have outer disciples scrambling to run errands for them, but now these disciples had somehow gained perspective and weren’t easily fooled.
The elders of the Library and Teaching Hall were the most uncomfortable.
Before, people would bow and scrape, just to ask a couple of questions, but now no one flattered them, and they found the psychological gap difficult to accept.
All these matters accumulated and piled up on Xu Yun’s desk, becoming one problem: Why had the outer court disciples become so difficult to manage?
Though seemingly lowly, the outer court had numerous members and was the foundation supporting a great sect.
If the foundation tilted, how could the great structure stand?
Some Peak Masters proposed replacing the disciples, driving all the lazy ones down the mountain to thoroughly cleanse the improper atmosphere.
However, with the Dengwen Assembly approaching, there was no time to investigate, let alone recruit new disciples. Xu Yun could only order everyone to endure until after the assembly.
The news that the Calligraphy Saint would visit had completely disrupted Huawei Sect’s original preparations.
Although Xu Yun had personally written the invitation to show respect, after failing to break through to the Transformation stage, he didn’t truly want to meet those four powerful figures who overwhelmed him in cultivation.
He would have been happier and more at ease if the Calligraphy Saint hadn’t come, but since he was coming, Xu Yun could only accept it.
Huawei Sect’s palaces and pavilions were spread out like stars on a chessboard, too numerous to count. Three days before the Assembly’s opening, participating sects and families had already moved in.
Qingai Academy’s students resided in Pine Forest Pavilion, an elegant and refined environment that satisfied the disciples.
But with the Calligraphy Saint personally attending, he should have the largest and most prestigious guest palace.
Currently, that place housed the abbot of Red Leaf Temple and his disciples. As Buddhist monks were compassionate and reasonable, they agreed to move immediately.
Other sects, however, had complaints about making room for the Red Leaf Temple monks. Neither Yuan Qing Shi nor Chen Hong Zhu could resolve the matter, nor could several Peak Masters. Finally, Xu Yun had to personally intervene to arrange everything properly.
Xu Yun would have gladly let the Calligraphy Saint stay in Qiankun Hall while he moved to Passing Water Bridge outside the hall.
At last, the ceremony rehearsal for receiving the Calligraphy Saint was complete. Xu Yun sat down and closed his eyes to regulate his breath.
Suddenly, the Abbot of Purple Cloud Temple, True Person Qing Wei, came to visit.
Xu Yun’s brow twitched with a sense of foreboding.
A very familiar feeling.
The last time he had this premonition was just before that outer court disciple mentioned that person’s name in Qiankun Hall.
True Person Qing Wei wore a purple Daoist robe, his duster moving lightly, his expression joyful and harmonious:
“Grand-uncle just sent a message! Great news!”
Xu Yun forced himself to remain calm, stroking his beard with a smile: “Then congratulations to the Chess Ghost. How has the old gentleman been lately?”
“Naturally well. My Grand-Uncle suddenly had a feeling yesterday that this assembly might bring an opportunity to take a discipline. He will arrive tomorrow and said there’s no need for trouble, everything should be kept simple.”
“…”
Xu Yun no longer wanted to stay at Passing Water Bridge; he wanted to jump off it.
“Hehe, I wonder which fortunate young person will receive the Chess Ghost’s legacy. Truly blessed by heaven.” He heard his own slightly trembling voice.
***
The evening sun’s rays scattered across the lake’s surface, turning into countless specks of gold.
Lotus leaves had just begun to sprout on the lake, not yet fully formed. A stone pavilion stood alone in the center of the lake, its reflection in the water.
This place was one of Huawei Sect’s scenic spots, and the lakeside was currently bustling with many young cultivators touring and sightseeing, their laughter like waves.
They were both male and female, from different sects, wearing various colored robes.
Song Qian Ji and Meng He Ze walked through the crowd.
Both wore outer court disciple robes, like two drab ducks.
Suddenly they heard someone laugh: “As expected of the grand Huawei Sect, even outer court disciples can come to enjoy the lake!”