“You’re welcome,” Miao Yan said softly.

She wore a lake-blue long dress, sitting at the edge of the terrace with a sea of clouds dyed crimson by the sunset behind her.

Day and night surging, never ceasing.

The beauty’s eyelashes lowered, a perfectly measured smile hanging at the corners of her mouth. The gauze around her arms moved in the gentle breeze, making her as beautiful as a painting.

There was no one else in the painting.

The terrace was filled with laughter and chatter, but around her was empty and desolate, with only a pot of water silver lotus.

Most female cultivators didn’t like her. No one was born liking to be a foil, to be the green leaves highlighting the red flower.

The difference was that most people were cordial and warm to her on the surface, while Chen Hongzhu and a very few others dared to wear their likes and dislikes on their faces, unafraid of being judged as jealous.

When Song Qian Ji spoke his first words to Miao Yan, Chen Hongzhu was the first to notice.

Her expression immediately changed. Ignoring someone asking for her opinion beside her, she stood up and walked over directly.

Feng Ziyi also stood up, and the white tiger’s tail wagged a bit, following her closely.

They all knew about Song Qian Ji’s famous saying. Miao Yan herself also knew.

Song Qian Ji knew that Miao Yan knew, yet he still dared to speak with her. Offering himself up like this, wasn’t he afraid she would use the opportunity to make things difficult for him?

The two felt that something major was about to happen and rushed over, but only heard them saying “thank you” and “you’re welcome” to each other.

Chen Hongzhu was bewildered. What was going on?

Feng Ziyi thought, could it be that Miao Yan didn’t recognize Song Qian Ji and thought he was just trying to chat her up?

Miao Yan had an excellent memory and never forgot the people she had seen. As soon as Song Qian Ji walked onto the terrace, she recognized him.

—That young outer disciple she had met face to face on Shishui Bridge, whose reputation had been rising recently.

If any other young cultivator had directly lifted the gauze curtain and barged into the female cultivators’ gathering place, it would undoubtedly have been an abrupt offense, causing anger.

But when this person did it, it somehow seemed natural and smooth.

Even the most imperious female cultivator didn’t blame him, but instead explained on his behalf.

Miao Yan knew at first glance that this person didn’t like her.

Unlike certain people who loved beauty in their hearts but spoke of emptiness with their mouths.

This person said he didn’t like her, and he truly didn’t like her, not deliberately trying to attract attention.

When he looked at the lotus, his gaze was clear as a spring, his lips carrying a smile, his temperament gentle.

Yet when he looked up and saw her face, he immediately became cold.

This made Miao Yan feel a subtle discomfort in her heart, even a sense of indignation.

So she said: “If you like this cold pond silver lotus, I have another one in my bamboo pavilion. Would you like me to give it to you?”

She shouldn’t have said this. As soon as the words left her mouth, she immediately regretted it.

Chen Hongzhu and Feng Ziyi, two people who didn’t get along, found themselves in sync for the first time.

They exchanged a glance, seeing identical shocks on each other’s faces.

Was this still Miao Yan? Miao Yan never gave things to others, let alone showed favor to any young cultivator.

But Song Qian Ji said: “Thank you, Fairy, but that won’t be necessary.”

He wasn’t planning to cultivate spirit plants for the time being, and he didn’t have any cold crystal stones either.

These plants required glass covers engraved with spiritual gathering formations for protection. They were beautiful but cold, lacking natural vitality.

Song Qian Ji finished speaking and bid farewell. Miao Yan’s expression changed slightly, then quickly returned to normal.

Seeing that he showed no lingering attachment, Chen Hongzhu and Feng Ziyi couldn’t help but look as if they’d seen a ghost.

Miao Yan had been rejected? The number one beauty of the cultivation world, rejected by an outer disciple of Huawei Sect?

Would anyone believe this if told?

Chen Hongzhu almost wanted to laugh out loud!

This extremely hypocritical woman wearing a false mask should have tasted the bitterness of rejection long ago.

She thought gleefully, see, not everyone in the world is a green-shelled turtle, willingly entering your trap.

But looking at Miao Yan’s lonely silhouette in the sunset, for some reason, she also felt a bit sorry for her.

“Wait.” Feng Ziyi called out to stop Song Qian Ji, feeling conflicted. “You’re leaving just like that? Didn’t you come to see flowers?”

Song Qian Ji smiled and said: “I’ve already seen them all.”

What surprised Feng Ziyi was that this person’s attitude remained very polite. Even when he refused Miao Yan just now, it seemed free of personal likes and dislikes, simply because he “didn’t need” what was offered.

Feng Ziyi’s eyes turned a bit, finding a topic:

“That person who was with you by Yaoguang Lake the other day, where is he? Why haven’t I seen him today?”

“He’s participating in the martial arts competition downstairs,” Song Qian Ji answered.

“Which platform?” Chen Hongzhu no longer looked at Miao Yan, returning to the group of female cultivators. “Let us see.”

Song Qian Ji walked to the terrace railing and pointed to the arena where Meng He Ze was: “Right there.”

A group of female cultivators looked over with interest, but after seeing clearly, they were somewhat disappointed.

That youth wore a high ponytail and a navy blue coarse cloth robe, wielding a rough low-grade sword. Though he looked valiant, his situation was desperate, his body covered in wounds.

His opponent was of great stature, almost nine feet tall. When he swung his Wind Thunder Greatsword, the force was tremendous. Even the arena with protective formations would shake three times with each strike.

“Is he about to lose?” Feng Ziyi said regretfully. “It’s alright, the prizes for the fourth round are already quite good.”

Chen Hongzhu said: “His luck in drawing lots wasn’t good. His opponent is half a realm higher, with abundant spiritual energy and a solid foundation.”

“No, he will win very soon,” Song Qian Ji said.

The women didn’t believe him, laughter rising in succession.

Out of respect for Song Qian Ji being a friend of Chen Hongzhu and Feng Ziyi, they refrained from openly mocking him.

Moreover, since he entered, he had only looked at flowers, not people, never casually striking up conversations, which many female cultivators found appropriate.

Many beauties seemed unapproachable, but in reality, as long as one wasn’t greasy, narcissistic, or pretending to be clever, treating them with a normal heart, one could already defeat ninety-nine percent of the self-satisfied “talented young gentlemen” and receive an evaluation of “not bad.”

“Although I’m a medical cultivator and don’t understand combat, I can still see that he’s being overwhelmed. How will he win?” one female cultivator asked.

She wasn’t afraid of being laughed at for shallow outside knowledge, directly asking the question everyone wanted to know.

In the arena, half of Meng He Ze’s sleeve was dyed red with fresh blood. He dodged desperately left and right, using only his lightness technique to maneuver, seemingly unable to counterattack.

Meanwhile, his opponent’s complexion was ruddy, with lightning flashing and wind howling as he swung his greatsword, like a fierce tiger toying with a rabbit.

Song Qian Ji said: “After three moves, he will turn defeat into victory.”

Chen Hongzhu focused her gaze and noticed that although Meng He Ze was retreating, his evasive footwork was not chaotic. It looked more like he was performing panic, always managing to just avoid the sword’s edge.

In contrast, his opponent was breathing heavily like an ox. Having fought for a long time without winning, staying on the edge of victory but unable to end the battle, each offensive move falling just short, he had gradually lost patience, becoming increasingly anxious.

The battle rhythm was actually in Meng He Ze’s hands.

Feng Ziyi also noticed something wasn’t right: “He won so many good magical tools at Yaoguang Lake, but he’s keeping them in reserve now. Is he saving them for the fifth or sixth round? Is he confident he can win this match?”

The women’s curiosity grew stronger, focusing intently on the blue-robed youth in the arena, their hearts moved by his every move, unconsciously forgetting to chat, and even forgetting to appreciate flowers.

Meng He Ze had almost retreated to the edge of the arena with seemingly nowhere to go. His opponent leaped into the air, bringing down a thunderous strike from above.

Lightning filled the entire arena. Some people couldn’t bear to watch anymore and had already closed their eyes.

With one foot at the arena’s edge, Meng He Ze had no choice but to leap up to meet the attack, as if making a final struggle.

However, the moment the two swords clashed, his figure vanished into thin air.

His movement technique was like the wind, eerily passing by his opponent, suddenly channeling all his spiritual energy into a backhand palm strike to his opponent’s vital point!

“Boom!”

The opponent’s massive form flew off the arena, stirring up a cloud of dust.

The Enforcement Hall disciples at the edge of the arena promptly dispersed the spectators, preventing any injuries.

“Ding-Three-Six-Five, Meng He Ze, wins—” the steward at the arena announced loudly.

Exhausted, Meng He Ze supported himself with his sword, lowering his head with a grin.

“Senior Brother Meng won!”

“Our outer sect won again!”

The arena was silent for an instant, then erupted in thunderous cheers.

Surprisingly, the loudest, most heart-wrenching shouts came not from Huawei’s outer disciples, nor Meng He Ze’s newly acquainted friends from other sects, but from the two gamblers Xu Kanshan and Qiu Dacheng:

“Spirit stones, spirit stones! We won!”

“He won!” The female cultivators on the terrace also applauded and cheered.

They had been watching with complete concentration and had now forgotten their composure.

“He fought quite methodically. His battle rhythm and awareness are good. Most commendable is his ability to stay calm, remaining unperturbed in danger, allowing him to seize his opponent’s weakness.” Chen Hongzhu asked, “Did you teach him?”

Song Qian Ji shook his head: “He has talent.”

The terrace railing was flat and wide, covered with various flower vases.

The vases held flowers cut fresh today, and though not as precious as those under the glass covers, they bloomed just as gorgeously.

Looking from outside the pavilion, it was a small building covered in fresh flowers.

Feng Ziyi had always loved playfulness and excitement. In her excitement, she reached out and plucked a golden-petaled rose, throwing it toward the arena:

“Well fought!”

Seeing this, other female cultivators also pulled flowers from the railing, tossing them out.

“Senior Brother Meng, someone is throwing flowers at you!” Zhou Xiaoyun exclaimed with delight.

Meng He Ze caught a flower that had fallen from nowhere.

Still not fully recovered from the battle of blades and swords, he was momentarily stunned.

“Hey, isn’t that Junior Brother Song over there?” Xu Kanshan, beaming with joy, said to Qiu Dacheng, “This time we must thank Junior Brother Song for helping us make a fortune.”

Qiu Dacheng: “Of course! For the rest of our lives, whoever he says to bet on, we’ll bet on without a word of doubt!”

Meng He Ze suddenly looked up to see Song Qian Ji standing at the railing, his slender figure outlined with a golden edge by the sunset’s afterglow, appearing like an immortal.

Countless fresh flowers flew out from behind Song Qian Ji, more brilliant and magnificent than the evening glow.

Amidst the profusion of flowers, only he stood motionless.

A shower of flowers fell from the sky, enveloping Meng He Ze.

Countless people cheered for him as if the entire world revolved around him.

The fourteen-year-old youth went from having nothing to having everything.

How could he not be dazzled and enchanted?

The gaze of everyone in the entire plaza was attracted by this magnificent shower of flowers descending from the sky.

People discussed who was throwing flowers from the flower pavilion, and who this blue-robed youth was.

At first, they guessed he came from a prestigious family, which would explain such grand treatment. After hearing he was just an outer disciple of Huawei Sect, the discussions grew more intense, with some envious and others jealous:

“At such a young age, he’s already reached Foundation Establishment. Truly gifted, with unlimited prospects.”

“What kind of world is this? No matter how well we fight, no one up there watches us.”

“Pretty boy, just winning one martial arts match, how is it like winning the championship of the Dengwen Gathering?”

Meng He Ze looked up at the flowers, momentarily forgetting where he was.

When he awoke from his dizziness and vigorously waved to Song Qian Ji, he realized that Senior Brother Song was already gone.

At the railing were only a group of gorgeously dressed, radiant female cultivators fanning themselves and smiling behind their hands.

Meng He Ze, embarrassed, turned red to his ears, immediately lowered his hand and placed it behind his back, fidgeting with the hem of his clothes.

But now his every move was under public scrutiny.

“Ah, he’s shy!” More people laughed.

Meng He Ze’s face grew even redder as he lowered his head and walked off the arena, wanting to find Song Qian Ji.

Despite searching everywhere, Song Qian Ji was nowhere to be found.