The yellow talisman paper stuck beneath the blue-gray leaves swayed gently in the wind, emitting a soft glow.

Like a tiny sun, it shone upon seeds that had just begun to sprout.

The light was bright yet not harsh, warm but not scorching.

As the spring breeze blew, the water in the large vat reflected shifting clouds, rippling outward gently, creating a shimmering surface.

Song Qian Ji merely gazed at it, feeling joy on behalf of the lotus roots.

Creating his light-gathering talismans wasn’t particularly difficult for him, but to adjust the most suitable duration of illumination and light intensity, he had wasted more than ten sheets of talisman paper.

When Meng He Ze entered with a group of outer sect disciples, he saw Song Qian Ji putting away his writing brushes and ink.

On the table lay two stacks of newly drawn talismans, the traces of talisman sand still fresh.

The disciples were stunned, delightfully surprised: “Senior Brother Song did draw talismans!”

Unless necessary, no one wanted to disturb Song Qian Ji or cause him trouble. That’s why no one had told him about the arrangements for the new fighting style in the arena.

Yet Senior Brother Song had somehow foreseen it, predicting events like a prophet.

Song Qian Ji pointed to the wasted talisman papers: “You’ve come at the right time. Take these and have fun.”

As Meng He Ze entered joyfully, Zhou Xiao Yun and others waiting outside the door sighed:

“Senior Brother Song has always been cold in appearance but warm at heart. He doesn’t mention it, but he’s constantly concerned about us, able to notice what we’ve overlooked!”

Meng He Ze touched the talisman paper, asking curiously: “Senior Brother, why are the talismans divided into two stacks? What’s the difference?”

“This stack for you has stronger talisman power and brighter light,” said Song Qian Ji. “You can take them and use them as you wish.”

If hung under the eaves for half a day, it could dry up the water vat and kill the lotus roots.

But hearing that talisman paper prices had risen in Hua Wei City, it seemed wasteful to carelessly destroy even failed talismans.

Meng He Ze hesitated: “Then, I’ll just take the less bright stack. Let’s switch, shall we?”

He thought that the better items should naturally be left for his senior brother’s use, how could he in good conscience take them away?

Song Qian Ji thought to himself, you’re being too clever—if you use these, what will my two vats of lotus roots use?

He immediately and firmly refused: “No!”

Meng He Ze held the talismans, eyes glistening with moved tears: “Senior Brother Song, I will not disappoint your high expectations!”

“Huh?” Song Qian Ji was taken aback.

Something’s wrong—his brain must have been knocked silly.

Meng He Ze controlled his emotions and bowed to him: “I need to hurry to the next round of draws. I’ll come back tonight to cook noodles for you, Senior Brother!”

Song Qian Ji was about to say he didn’t necessarily need to eat noodles, suggesting that after the match Meng could go to bed early, but Meng He Ze had already turned to leave.

A group of outer sect disciples followed his lead, as if they had each drunk ten bowls of chicken blood, eyes gleaming, steps vigorous and swift.

……

Under the onslaught of blood, drumbeats, and white doves, Meng He Ze luckily avoided elimination. With the lowest number of support votes, he barely squeezed into the martial trial’s top hundred rankings, placing ninety-eighth.

While people verbally refused to admit being attracted by his novel fighting style, their bodies honestly waited for his draw and gathered beneath his arena to watch.

Meng He Ze didn’t fight quickly this time but repeatedly used dangerous moves.

He employed many techniques requiring rotation, his robe hem flying high with each turn.

A breeze arose, bringing countless white petals from an unknown source.

They floated and scattered, filling the sky as if heavy snow had fallen on the arena.

The white petals intersected with the crimson bloodlight, creating a beauty both tragically brilliant and heart-stoppingly magnificent.

Below the stage, someone played a melody on bamboo leaves, the tune mournful and sorrowful, inexplicably moving people to sadness.

Only when Meng He Ze sheathed his sword did the audience below regain their senses, as if they had just witnessed a young man’s arduous journey seeking immortality.

“I want to vote for him!” a female cultivator sobbed.

After this round, Meng He Ze stayed far from the square, only returning to the stage for the next round.

It began as dusk approached.

When it ended, darkness surrounded everything, with only a single beam of light shining on him, illuminating his blood-stained face.

Meng He Ze, blood flowing all over his body, lowered his head and drew from his sleeve an unopened pear blossom. He gently blew the bud open, then tossed it down from the arena.

“Thank you all for coming to watch my match!”

No one knows which female cultivator screamed first, but a rush of commotion erupted below the stage.

After this match, the female cultivator group supporting Meng He Ze began to take shape.

Someone regretfully said: “It’s a pity each performance is unique and can only be seen once.”

Someone whispered: “I secretly recorded it on my image stone.”

“Really? Name your price, and sell it to me. How about three hundred spirit stones?”

But that female cultivator gritted her teeth: “Not for sale, I’m keeping it to watch myself!”

“Three hundred and fifty!”

“No, the fluttering heart of a fourteen-year-old spring is priceless!”

Many male cultivators didn’t understand:

“Three hundred and fifty? Have they all gone mad, just to see a pretty boy?”

“Who scattered those petals for him? Too extravagant, too affected!”

“But it was really beautiful. Anyway, we’re just watching, not voting, just feasting our eyes.”

People claimed they would never vote, yet they knew well that if Meng He Ze were eliminated, there would be no more spectacular arena performances to watch.

Some thought, since everyone says they won’t vote, his vote count must be low, so I’ll cast one vote just to ensure he doesn’t get eliminated.

This line of thinking caused Meng He Ze’s votes to soar.

Chen Hong Zhu had mixed feelings about this. Meng He Ze was a Hua Wei Sect disciple; Hua Wei Sect should share in his glory, but Meng He Ze was drifting away from the sect. The entire outer sect had become more united through this performance competition, making them harder to govern.

Some elders had already proposed that after the Dengwen Elegant Assembly ended, all outer sect disciples should be driven down the mountain, and a new batch recruited who would be more manageable, more obedient, and more willing to do extra work, completely changing the outer sect’s atmosphere.

Feng Zi Yi held a different stance, only caring about her enjoyment and excitement.

As a female cultivator who had previously interacted with Meng He Ze, she became one of his earliest supporters, even sending her maidservants to distribute colored notes: “Number Three Six Five, Meng He Ze, check him out.”

The female cultivators had skillful campaigning techniques, starting with those from small sects who came to the assembly just to broaden their horizons and were eliminated early:

“Greetings, fellow Daoist.”

Many experienced being approached by beautiful female cultivators for the first time in their lives, their faces flushing red with excitement, not knowing what to say. They first bowed deeply, then stammered: “Y-you, no, hello, greetings, fairy!”

“Where you come from, which sect you belong to, none of that matters. As long as you cast your precious vote for Number Three Six Five, Meng He Ze, we’ll be good friends! Come, check out Number Three Six Five, Meng He Ze. Whatever fighting style you like, he has it all!”

After going through this process, it was difficult for people not to vote.

Some accused these female cultivators of disrupting the martial trial’s order with distorted aesthetics.

Feng Zi Yi rolled her eyes skyward: “So you’re allowed to support Miao Yan, but we’re not allowed to support a male cultivator?”

“How dare you publicly insult Fairy Miao Yan?!”

“Ha, how did I insult her? I didn’t say anything bad about her!” Feng Zi Yi laughed.

“Fairy Miao Yan is so noble, how can Meng He Ze, a mere outer sect disciple, be mentioned in the same breath?”

Another female cultivator cut in: “A hero’s origins don’t matter. In terms of cultivation, Miao Yan built her foundation at fourteen, and Meng He Ze is also fourteen this year. In terms of reputation, Miao Yan only became the recognized first beauty at seventeen. If Meng He Ze wins the championship this year, he’ll be the youngest champion in the history of the Dengwen Elegant Assembly. What’s the difference?”

“Sister speaks truly. In another ten years, if Meng He Ze successfully forms his Golden Core, he’ll be the next Zi Ye Wen Shu!”

“Such arrogance! Nothing but an attention-seeker, not only comparing him to Fairy Miao Yan but daring to compare him to Senior Brother Zi Ye? You’re all like porcelain, bumping into everything!”

The greater the controversy, the more renowned Meng He Ze became.

Someone at Arena One displayed a complete set of lost sword techniques, but no one paid attention; someone at Arena Two had a breakthrough during battle, but no one cared. Everyone argued incessantly about Meng He Ze every day.

Whether it was love or hate, anger or resentment, Meng He Ze became the center of discussion.

Some felt Meng He Ze brought a fresh perspective to the performance competitions, showing unique ingenuity.

Moreover, Meng He Ze was a sapling yet to fully grow. Compared to betting on a towering tree, wagering on his advancement gave a greater sense of participation.

This feeling of changing someone else’s fate was addictive once experienced.

Others believed that Meng He Ze’s supporters were the cancer of the cultivation world, creating conflicts everywhere.

Yet they couldn’t resist those magnificent temptations.

After watching Meng He Ze’s matches, traditional fighting styles seemed boring, like eating food without a grain of salt, completely flavorless.

Unless a competitor happened to be a sect brother, people were unwilling to leave the arena where Meng He Ze performed.

His performance matches were always full of variety.

Like the perfectly timed background music that enhanced the atmosphere.

Like magical tools exploding in mid-air, resembling fireworks.

Like hundreds of sky lanterns lit simultaneously, flying into the night sky.

Regardless of the Dengwen Elegant Assembly’s outcome, these images will forever remain in memory, becoming the most profound and brightest colors of this spring.

……

While the martial trials were caught in a whirlwind because of Meng He Ze, the calligraphy, painting, and zither trials had just begun.

On this day, Song Qian Ji watered his vegetable garden as usual and replaced the light-gathering talismans under the eaves with new ones.

Then, facing the cool morning breeze, breathing in the fresh scent of mountain forests and vegetation, he leisurely walked out of his home.

It was time for him to participate in the calligraphy and painting trial.