Meng He Ze couldn’t find the person he was looking for and was surrounded by a group of outer sect disciples, celebrating like heroes welcoming a returning champion, and escorting him to the drawing lots station. Along the way, more disciples joined them, forming a rather impressive small team. Almost the entire outer sect came to support him.

Some areas had not yet determined the fourth-round winners, so the drawing of lots had not begun.

While waiting, Meng He Ze appeared calm and composed on the surface, but secretly listened attentively, relishing the discussions about himself:

“How did he achieve Foundation Establishment while still in the outer sect? What cultivation method did he learn, and how did he cultivate?”

“This match was a narrow victory. I wonder if he can win the next one?”

Occasionally, he heard some discordant, sour remarks like “he’s just Song Academy’s doorkeeper’s lackey” or “Song Qian Ji’s running dog,” but he wasn’t angered. He thought to himself that not everyone could be a lackey.

Even if you wanted to be one, without knowing a bit about plant care and cooking, you’d be useless. Elder Brother Song wouldn’t even want you.

The sky gradually darkened, and the mountain breeze added a chill.

After the final round today, the competition would pause. The losers would go home to nurse their wounds and sleep, while the winners would continue the competition tomorrow.

The arena plaza had been reduced to ten platforms, making the spectating cultivators more concentrated, and the underground betting stakes even higher.

Xu Kan Shan and Qiu Da Cheng couldn’t find Song Qian Ji, so they continued betting on Meng He Ze’s victory, changing how they addressed him from “Junior Brother Meng” to “Brother Meng.”

“Number Three Six Five from Ding Group versus Number Fourteen from Bing Group, please report to Heaven Platform Two,” the steward announced loudly.

The outer sect disciples didn’t yet know who the opponent was, but someone already shouted: “Senior Brother Meng will win!”

The young man, cradling his low-grade sword, carried the weight of countless gazes and expectations as he passed through the surging crowd and thunderous cheers.

****

“Report! Song Qian Ji has come downstairs, he has left the building!”

“Report! He’s heading down the mountain alone, returning to the outer sect!”

“Everyone to your positions, start tracking his movements.”

“Proprietor Hua, prepare to ambush him!”

The “Flower Appreciation Meeting” didn’t yield much, leaving Song Qian Ji slightly disappointed.

But he was still in a good mood, walking along the spring mountain path, surrounded by vibrant spring scenery.

Looking at the mountains, flowers, and rippling water, even the wild grass by the roadside seemed lovely.

At this moment, he encountered several people blocking the path and arguing, which was particularly jarring.

Four or five burly men with fierce, menacing expressions were laughing and surrounding a frail female cultivator in white.

Though she wasn’t veiled, the female cultivator’s clothing, figure, and temperament were extremely similar to He Qing Qing’s.

“We’re inviting you to join us as a courtesy, don’t be ungrateful!”

“Your family still owes us money, have you forgotten?”

Hearing this, the female cultivator backed away step by step, her expression terrified: “This is Hua Wei Sect, this is the Grand Assembly, in broad daylight under the clear sky…”

Besides her willowy figure, she also had a lotus-like face, pure and pitiful.

The bullies roared with laughter.

“What broad daylight? It’s almost dark now!”

Someone pushed her shoulder, and she let out a delicate cry, staggering forward.

At this moment, an utterly ordinary Song Qian Ji happened to be passing by.

Walking leisurely, not in a hurry.

The female cultivator’s skirt billowed like a broken-winged butterfly, about to fall into this passing cultivator’s arms.

She looked up, crystalline tears filling her bright eyes, moistening her curled eyelashes, about to fall but not yet falling, appearing utterly pitiful.

In such a scene, who wouldn’t feel sympathy?

Song Qian Ji glanced once and sidestepped.

“Smack!”

The female cultivator’s highly raised white gauze sleeve brushed past his shoulder.

The “broken-winged butterfly” fell to the ground, dust flying, like a thin pancake spread on a pan.

She forgot to control her expression, staring wide-eyed in disbelief.

Song Qian Ji dodged? What kind of movement technique had he practiced?

However, just like avoiding a big tree blocking the path, the man continued walking forward, still not hurrying.

The “bullies” were equally shocked.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you? Didn’t you see there’s an immortal maiden here?!”

A young cultivator walking from the opposite direction, upon seeing this, both condemned Song Qian Ji for his lack of chivalry and rushed forward to extend a helping hand to the fallen woman, saying softly with a smile: “Don’t be afraid, immortal maiden!”

Song Qian Ji acted as if he hadn’t heard and didn’t look back.

The scene suddenly became very awkward.

Who are you? Where did you come from?

The female cultivator’s expression changed. Pretending not to see the helping hand, she got up nimbly and caught up to Song Qian Ji with a swift step.

Realizing she was moving too quickly, she explained weakly:

“Please allow this fellow Daoist to walk with you for a while. You’re wearing the outer robe of Hua Wei Sect disciples, and they wouldn’t dare offend disciples of the host sect.”

Song Qian Ji neither agreed nor refused, nor did he even look at her.

The female cultivator followed beside him with lowered eyes, appearing on the verge of tears but inwardly collapsing in angry shouts:

“Who let a real passerby through?! A bunch of useless fools who ruin everything!”

She maintained the appearance of someone frightened, walking unsteadily.

Whenever she encountered a small stone that might trip her, she would inevitably fall toward Song Qian Ji, but she never succeeded, at most only touching the hem of his clothes.

Later, when Song Qian Ji saw small stones, he would lightly kick them away, always one step ahead of her, giving her no opportunity to stumble.

The disciples gathered in the plaza waiting to watch Meng He Ze’s match, making the entire outer sect quiet and calm.

The Song Academy entrance remained lush as ever. Five or six small sparrows perched on the bamboo fence, preening their feathers in the last rays of the setting sun.

The female cultivator took advantage of Song Qian Ji opening the door and nimbly darted into the small courtyard:

“Thank you for escorting me all this way. I have nothing to offer, but I’d like to brew a cup of tea for you, to thank you for your protection.”

“No need,” said Song Qian Ji.

The female cultivator quickly said: “Those people are probably still waiting for me on the road. I’d like to take refuge in your place for a moment… just a moment, then I’ll leave.”

Her expression was delicate and trembling.

“As you wish.”

The first thing Song Qian Ji did upon entering was to examine the lotus root seeds soaking in clear water.

White, slender sprouts had emerged, growing vigorously, ready to be planted in the mud.

Only then did he turn back to look at the ground where the female cultivator had stepped and the footprints on the ground.

He couldn’t help feeling confused—there had been too many strange things happening lately.

The “female cultivator” stepped closer, speaking mournfully: “Fellow Daoist is so righteous. Meeting by chance is fate. May I ask where Fellow Daoist is from?”

Proprietor Hua was almost sickened by his act.

After cursing his teammates in his heart, he cursed Song Qian Ji for being so difficult. Whose idea was the beauty trap? Their brain must have been soaked in an ink pool!

All the way here, casting amorous glances at a blind man, accumulating a belly full of resentment. Except for the Book Sage whom he dared not curse, he had cursed almost everyone in the cultivation world.

Song Qian Ji suddenly said: “I’m going out, want to come along?”

“Ah?”

The “surprise” came too suddenly.

Proprietor Hua jerked to attention. Well, well, Song Qian Ji, was it difficult pretending to be a gentleman just now?

A girl follows you home, and now you reveal your true nature, wanting to take her out?

“Alright.” The white-clad female cultivator nodded coyly. “I naturally wish to accompany Fellow Daoist. Where are we going?”

“To Yao Guang Lake.”

Proprietor Hua looked at the sky and inwardly sneered. At this time, everyone in Hua Wei Sect was gathered at the plaza watching the martial trials, or at Feng Yan Valley watching the chess trials.

Yao Guang Lake, not just people, but not even a bird would be there. Going there in pitch darkness, what evil deed do you intend to do?

The white-clad female cultivator covered her mouth and laughed lightly: “Good, let’s go now.”

The night curtain descended, and the evening breeze caressed thousands of willow strands by the lake.

Stars scattered across the sky fell into the water like splashing silver flakes.

All around was deserted, with only the sound of cicadas in the willow trees.

It was the perfect time to collect mud from the lake. Song Qian Ji thought that tonight he could plant the lotus roots.

By the lake stood a small boat with a black canopy, tied to a willow tree.

Song Qian Ji untied the rope and leaped onto the small boat.

“Fellow Daoist, could you give me a hand?” the female cultivator said weakly.

Song Qian Ji didn’t speak but reached around her waist, turned her around, and gently placed her in the boat.

The female cultivator’s skirt fluttered like a lotus flower that instantly bloomed and closed.

The small boat rocked gently, heading toward the center of the lake.

Flowers under moonlight, the shimmering lake—the scene was beautiful.

But Proprietor Hua was utterly shocked.

He had seemed decent just now, but how could he become such a beast in human clothing so quickly?!

Although Song Qian Ji had only embraced him for a moment before letting go, and afterwards had no further contact.

But Proprietor Hua had goosebumps all over, thinking this kid must be a lecher.

If he dared to make any more moves, I’d break his dog paws.

The small boat stopped near the pavilion at the center of the lake.

“Fellow Daoist, what are you doing?” Proprietor Hua asked in confusion.

“Collecting mud.” Song Qian Ji pulled out lotus stems with their root systems and mud, placing them all into his storage pouch.

“Others pick lotus, you collect mud. You’re interesting.”

Song Qian Ji didn’t answer: “Want to go somewhere quieter?”

“Where?”

Song Qian Ji pointed to the opposite shore of the lake.

Yao Guang Lake was surrounded by mountains on the west side. Without the reflection of lake water in the mountains, it was pitch dark.

The small boat reached the shore.

The two walked toward the hillside, where dense leaves completely blocked the moonlight.

Proprietor Hua was excited, keeping his hands tucked in his sleeves. Taking advantage of Song Qian Ji’s inattention, he sent a messaging talisman to his fellow proprietors and assistants.

Fortunately, the Book Sage didn’t choose this kid. Fortunately, he had sacrificed himself to test him.

What a noble spirit he had!

“Let’s stop here,” Song Qian Ji halted.

If Zhao Ji Heng were here, he would know this was the mountain pavilion where Zhao Zhe painted his beautiful portrait.

The mountain pavilion was secluded. Waves of sound rolled through the forest.

“I have a question.”

“Please ask, Fellow Daoist,” Proprietor Hua smiled.

“Who are you?” Song Qian Ji asked. “Where do you come from?”

Proprietor Hua coyly replied: “My name is Bai Lian Lian, a disciple of the Xia Guang Sect from across the sea. A small sect, not worth mentioning.”

Inwardly, he sneered. You want to know what consequences you’ll face for taking advantage of this girl, don’t you?

Song Qian Ji made an “oh” sound and said flatly:

“Then who is Wang Tu Gen?”

“Bai Lian Lian’s” face instantly turned deathly pale.

How was this possible?

His disguise didn’t just change his appearance. His demeanor, movements, walking posture, and even his aura had all been altered.

With this skill, he had once roamed freely throughout the Northern Continent, fooling even Golden Core powerhouses who couldn’t identify his true form.

How could Song Qian Ji, with his low cultivation, recognize him?

No, he’s trying to trick me.

Proprietor Hua shook his head repeatedly: “Who is Wang Tu Gen? I don’t know him.”

“Your weight hasn’t changed,” Song Qian Ji said calmly.

“Weight?” Proprietor Hua was stunned.

Song Qian Ji: “You’ve entered Song Academy twice, and walked through my vegetable garden twice.”

“So what?” Proprietor Hua was bewildered.

Song Qian Ji smiled: “You stepped on my land, and since I’m a farmer, how could I not feel it?”

A farmer?!

Sword cultivators, sound cultivators, law cultivators, Buddhist cultivators, alchemists, artifact refiners, formation masters, talisman masters—which cultivator would call themselves a farmer?!

It was absurd.

Proprietor Hua still wasn’t convinced: “You can’t just rely on feeling to determine that I…”

“So I weighed you,” Song Qian Ji said.

Proprietor Hua froze.

When boarding the boat earlier, Song Qian Ji’s embrace wasn’t taking advantage; he was using the opportunity to weigh him.

He had been careless.

“You have accomplices, right?” Song Qian Ji asked.

Proprietor Hua felt a chill throughout his body.

From the moment he entered the small courtyard, Song Qian Ji had suspected something was wrong, yet he hadn’t revealed anything, enduring until now to make his move?

With such patience, was he a fifteen-year-old boy?

“I can swear a Dao heart blood oath that we have no evil intentions toward you; we just wanted to test you. But there are some things you shouldn’t know yet, and I won’t tell you.”

Song Qian Ji said: “When you disguised yourself as Wang Tu Gen, your clothes were extremely shabby and miserable, yet there was no odor, and even your fingernails were clean without a trace of dirt in the crevices. Even when pretending to be such a person, you wouldn’t let yourself be stained with any filth. You must love cleanliness, right?”

Proprietor Hua didn’t know why he brought this up and was stunned for a moment before smiling bitterly:

“To be honest, I do have an obsession with cleanliness.”

He ran a cosmetics shop and was accustomed to refinement in daily life.

Song Qian Ji smiled: “I now have an entire bag of mud on me.”

“You!” Proprietor Hua’s face changed drastically.

“Your cultivation is higher than mine, but you definitely can’t dodge all the mud. Want to try?”

Before he finished speaking, the wind suddenly picked up.

More than ten black shadows appeared in the forest.

They were completely wrapped in robes that concealed their auras, only exposing a pair of eyes.

Holding magical instruments, they rushed toward the pavilion from different directions, instantly forming an encirclement.

These visitors had ill intentions.

“Where did you find so many people?” Proprietor Hua looked around and smiled bitterly. “Even if I refuse to talk, letting you splash mud on me for revenge is one thing, but you don’t need to kill me, right?!”

Song Qian Ji was the Book Sage’s chosen successor, and he couldn’t harm him, so he was already at a disadvantage.

“I didn’t find these people. I don’t want to kill you.” Song Qian Ji was startled, remembering the Six Sages of Blue Cliff he had met during the day.

“Really not?” Proprietor Hua wiped his face. “Then can I fight back? This entire day has been too frustrating and too miserable for me!”

Song Qian Ji examined those people, feeling somewhat sympathetic: “As you wish.”