“Not writing on paper, but insisting on writing on the table—how am I supposed to take it with me? I can’t exactly carry away Hua Wei Sect’s table.” Li Ying lowered her head, examining the ink marks on the stone table closely, touching them with her fingertips. “Oh!”
She exclaimed softly as the ink marks sank in, stone fragments and dust clinging to her fingertips.
Chess Ghost blew a breath, and a layer of dust rose from the table, leaving clear carved characters on the stone surface.
“Brush force penetrating stone, making the difficulty seem effortless—excellent skill,” Chess Ghost’s eyes grew brighter.
“I’ve heard that Zhao Ji and Wei Zhan Yang, the most outstanding performers in the calligraphy and painting examination, had to meditate for half an hour to gather their qi and adjust their breathing to its peak before they could put brush to the rock wall, each writing a line of poetry. This person writes with a single stroke, completing four lines in one breath—isn’t he more formidable than both of them?” Li Ying clapped her hands.
She took out ink and white paper, carefully making a rubbing of the carved characters on the table. “There, now I don’t need to carry the table.”
Chess Ghost watched her delight and sighed lovingly: “You’re still young, and meeting such a person might not necessarily be a good thing.”
Li Ying seemed to half-understand, but just smiled and asked, “When will the master accept him as a disciple?”
“I thought I might gain a disciple better than Wei Ping, but after seeing this stone table carving, I’m not so certain anymore.” Chess Ghost recited, “‘Among the world’s heroes, who could be my match’—such an arrogant temperament, which master could subdue him?”
“He doesn’t have a master to begin with. There aren’t many cultivation methods available to outer disciples of Hua Wei Sect—where did he learn chess and calligraphy on his own?” Li Ying was puzzled.
“You’ve already guessed who he is?”
“Song Qian Ji!” Li Ying’s eyes shifted: “Just now those people wearing Hua Wei Sect’s outer disciple robes called him Senior Brother Song and were almost ready to carry him away. With such prestige in Hua Wei’s outer sect, respected by everyone—if not Song Qian Ji, who else could it be?”
“Is he famous?” Chess Ghost asked, “For what?”
Li Ying enthusiastically first described the scenarios that young cultivators loved most, such as flower-picking at Yao Guang Lake, gate-crashing the Flower Appreciation Gathering, and so on.
Then she spoke of the issues that concerned sect leaders and elders the most:
“He’s stirred up the entire outer sect of Hua Wei to the point they can’t have peace, calling for strikes every few days. At this Deng Wen Conference, other sects maintain silence on the surface, but privately mock the Hua Wei Sect leader’s incompetence, unable to control even a group of outer disciples.”
Upon hearing this, Chess Ghost’s expression grew more solemn as he muttered:
“This is difficult.”
With Song Qian Ji’s temperament, would he truly be willing to become someone’s disciple?
If he were willing, he would have already claimed the dual championships in both the chess and calligraphy examinations at the Deng Wen Elegance Conference.
“I’ve never seen master so worried,” Li Ying said. “Is it truly difficult?”
“I’m not ‘Romantic Master,’ I’m not as self-absorbed as he is. He’s been spoiled by those foolish students at the academy who think the whole world wants to call him master. I’m also not as suspicious and calculating as he is. He schemes endlessly yet still doesn’t know where to find a disciple, while I sit in a pavilion and a genius delivers himself to my doorstep.”
Chess Ghost felt both joy and concern—concerned about how to accept Song Qian Ji as a disciple but pleased that he had finally moved one step ahead of the Calligraphy Sage.
…
Song Qian Ji, being supported by others, mumbled incoherently: “Life, ah, how many times in life do we grieve over past events, while the mountain’s shape still rests against the cold current.”
He still turned his head to look back at the stone pavilion, “Old sir, until we meet again, let’s have another match!”
Meng He Ze said softly: “Senior Brother Song, there was only you on the mountain. Where did the wine come from?”
How could they let Senior Brother Song drink such strong wine alone? What if something happened?
He pulled the wine jar from Song Qian Ji’s hand and, gathering his courage, took a small sip…
The sweet and sour taste of grapes and plums mixed with the rich fragrance of peach blossoms filled his mouth.
Sugary fruit juice?!
No, there was a wine aftertaste—it was fruit wine. But this wine was far too weak!
Meng He Ze’s gaze toward Song Qian Ji instantly changed.
So Senior Brother Song wasn’t omnipotent after all.
“From now on, no one is allowed to give Senior Brother Song any wine!” he turned to address the outer disciples.
“Yes!”
Song Qian Ji slurred: “But I want to drink wine!”
“Senior Brother Song, where did you go after the examination? We looked everywhere for you,” Meng He Ze confiscated the purple jade wine jar and changed the subject. “Everyone made a banner for you. Bring it out quickly and let Senior Brother see!”
Meng He Ze had a duel scheduled for today, so the outer disciples had split into two groups—the main force went to the square to cheer for Senior Brother Meng, responsible for props and stage effects, while a smaller group went to Colorful Stone Creek to prepare the banner and welcome Senior Brother Song after his examination.
With a whoosh, the banner unfurled in the wind, a full ten zhang long, white background with black ink, bearing giant characters—
“Warmly Celebrating Senior Brother Song’s Successful Participation in the Calligraphy and Painting Examination.”
Those who knew would realize it was to welcome and celebrate someone; those who didn’t might think it was roadside workers demanding wages.
Song Qian Ji was greatly alarmed—there were even more embarrassing actions than “being carried on a lounge chair and paraded through the outer sect square.”
He could only be grateful he had slipped away early.
“Just wandering around, listening to some music, playing some chess,” Song Qian Ji said. “Nothing special.”
Meng He Ze nodded: “Good to hear nothing’s wrong.”
Song Qian Ji usually spent most of his time with his head down tending his fields, but today he behaved unusually, still not returning to Song Courtyard by nightfall.
Meng He Ze feared someone with ill intentions might take advantage of Song Qian Ji being alone to cause trouble.
He had performed excellently in the martial examination, and several sect elders had expressed their willingness to take him as a disciple. They had all approached him tonight to sound him out, but he had no desire to deal with them.
Leading the entire outer sect to mobilize, divided into six small teams searching everywhere, they had practically turned Hua Wei Sect upside down.
This had drawn glares from the Discipline Hall and endless complaints from the Enforcement Hall.
“Senior Brother Song, Brother Meng, terrible news!”
Two figures came running toward them, shouting.
Song Qian Ji looked closely—it was those two gamblers again, Xu Kan Shan and Qiu Da Cheng.
“No gambling today!” he waved them off.
Xu Kan Shan urgently said: “This is Star-Plucking Platform territory. According to ancient Hua Wei Sect rules, outer disciples are forbidden to set foot here! Brother Meng, Steward Zhao Yu Ping knows you’ve come and is leading his subordinate stewards and a team from the Enforcement Hall to arrest you all and send you for trial!”
“Why are you still talking? Quickly leave this place!” Qiu Da Cheng urged.
Meng He Ze’s face suddenly changed color.
He had been wondering why some steward had kindly hinted for them to look for someone at Star-Plucking Platform.
“Who can escape?” A cold laugh sounded.
Hurried footsteps and shifting shadows filled the area as lights suddenly brightened the mountainside.
Over a hundred Enforcement Hall disciples wearing swords at their waists surrounded Meng He Ze and the others.
Zhao Yu Ping slowly emerged from the shadows:
“Outer disciple Meng He Ze, the sect knows you’ve long harbored rebellious thoughts, yet we’ve shown great tolerance due to appreciation of your talent. But today you’ve led people to trespass on the Star-Plucking Platform, committing a grave error. Will you not surrender?”
He deliberately targeted only Meng He Ze, not mentioning Song Qian Ji, certain that Song Qian Ji would not stand by idly.
The last time they had schemed against him, they were defeated by a mysterious white-robed female cultivator wielding a large blade.
This time with an open move, they would discover tonight whether Song Qian Ji truly had a second Golden Core stage expert protecting him.
The night wind howled, and leaves rustled.
The outer disciples of modest cultivation levels found themselves surrounded, looking at each other in dismay.
Meng He Ze gave a cold smile and slowly drew his sword.
The sword blade scraped against the scabbard, producing a piercing wail.
As if it were a command, all the outer disciples drew their swords in unison.
Song Qian Ji pressed down on Meng He Ze’s sword hilt.
Still drunk, he mumbled: “Where’s the light-gathering talisman I gave you?”
Meng He Ze brightened with sudden inspiration.
A bright beam of light shot up from his palm into the night sky.
Zhao Yu Ping had expected him to bring out some magical weapon and was prepared, but seeing it was just a glowing talisman paper, he was momentarily stunned.
In just a moment, the earth shook from all directions with great commotion as shouts echoed across the hills:
“It’s Senior Brother Meng’s talisman!”
“They’ve found Senior Brother Song over there!”
Outer disciples who had been searching for Song Qian Ji from Yao Guang Lake, Wind Mist Valley, and countless mountains and ravines all surged toward this location, arriving at the sight of the talisman, and following the light.
The force of several hundred stewards and Enforcement Hall disciples found themselves surrounded by over a thousand people.
Zhao Yu Ping looked around, sweating at the brow.
Using force to suppress them would be easy, but the Deng Wen Elegance Conference wasn’t over yet—he couldn’t exactly cause a bloodbath and be criticized by other sects.
Adapting to the situation, he shouted, “Fellow outer disciples, whoever captures Meng He Ze will be rewarded with three hundred spirit stones!”
Wealth most easily moves people’s hearts, but at this moment, no one moved.
The outer disciples’ weapons didn’t turn, and their expressions remained resolute. It was as if they couldn’t understand what he was saying.
Zhao Yu Ping’s face flushed red.
When had everything changed?
In the past, he only needed to spend three spirit stones to watch these little disciples scramble on the ground like dogs, fighting desperately for the reward.
Refusing to allow himself to feel fear, he shouted even louder:
“A reward of three thousand spirit stones, plus a top-tier inner sect cultivation method and one low-grade magical artifact!”
His voice had lost its authority, trembling due to excessive tension.
Dead silence prevailed, with only the mournful sound of the wind.
“Better head back and rest early,” someone suddenly yawned. “It’s late at night.”
It was Song Qian Ji.
He rubbed his eyes and urged: “Hurry up and make way.”
Having been out all day, he missed the flowers, vegetables, and plants at his home.
He thought of the string beans by the door, the cucumbers on the vines, the potatoes in the field.
It had only been a short day’s separation, from morning until night, yet it felt like countless autumns had passed.
They must miss me too, Song Qian Ji thought, gazing at the moon.
He walked forward at a leisurely pace.
In the inner circle, Meng He Ze and others wanted to protect him; in the middle circle, Zhao Yu Ping and his people were cautiously guarding against him; in the outermost layer, disciples were vigilant against Zhao Yu Ping making a move.
Thus, with just a few steps, Song Qian Ji set the entire formation in motion, with three layers inside and three layers outside all moving forward with him.
Song Qian Ji simply continued on his path.
…
At Qian Kun Hall on the main peak.
The lamps were brilliant, and the ceremonial music solemn.
This was Immortal Xu Yun’s main hall, where he always sat in the chief seat with natural authority, controlling everything.
But tonight the chief seat had changed hands, and he could only occupy the second position.
The white-haired elder sitting in the main seat smiled and said: “Don’t be formal, don’t be constrained. Since this is a celebration banquet, everyone should relax.” He turned to instruct the musician striking the bronze bells, “Play something festive!”
Having said this, he drank his wine with the bearing of a host.
Seeing the Calligraphy Sage’s manner, the atmosphere in the hall gradually became livelier.
Someone came to toast the champion of the calligraphy and painting examination. Ji Chen raised his cup and drained it in one gulp.
Tormented internally, his mouth was naturally filled with bitterness.
Zhao Ji and Wei Zhan Yang, who had been ranked second and third respectively, sat behind him, coldly staring at his back, extremely discontent.
Many people wondered privately why the Calligraphy Sage had selected this young Ji Chen as champion yet had not taken him as a disciple.
It was unclear whether he was satisfied with him or dissatisfied.
After three rounds of drinks, suddenly a person stood up tall and said loudly:
“This disciple has a matter to report, and requests the Sage’s clear judgment.”
The music stopped immediately.
The hall was shocked, but mindful of the Sage’s presence, quickly fell silent, only discussing privately through spiritual communication:
“Which family’s descendant dares to be disrespectful before the Calligraphy Sage?!”
“He is Ji Chen’s cousin, Ji Guang. Who doesn’t know that Ji Chen was formerly useless, beyond help, while this branch family member Ji Guang is the future of the Ji family of White Phoenix County.”
“Is he stepping forward now to congratulate his cousin?”
The Calligraphy Sage’s smile faded: “Speak.”
“The characters for ‘chicken egg’ were not written by Ji Chen. He has been incredibly audacious, deceiving the Sage—he has no talent for talisman arts!” Ji Guang bowed with one hand, his face full of righteous indignation and resolute willingness to sacrifice himself, loudly saying: “I have evidence. Please look, these are characters Ji Chen wrote before.”
The crowd erupted in commotion.
Zhao Ji could hardly resist slapping the table and laughing loudly.
But before the evidence could be produced, Ji Chen jumped up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, rushed forward, and grabbed Ji Guang’s hand:
“Wonderful! Thank you for speaking up for me, good cousin! You truly are my dear brother!”
The Calligraphy Sage’s expression, however, was not very pleasant.