“Clamoring and frolicking, behaving without restraint—what kind of example is this?”

A stern rebuke descended from the sky, its sound like rolling thunder.

Thousands of disciples trembled in their hearts, all falling silent at once.

Looking up, they saw more than ten streaks of white light cross overhead, approaching from the distance like falling meteors, landing on the high platform of the square.

The crowd bowed in respect while gazing with admiration.

Those people wore long black robes and tall white crowns, their attire strictly black and white. One person called out loudly: “Welcoming the Elder of the Discipline Hall—”

Elder Liu, who had just reprimanded everyone, took his seat first. Behind him, more than ten disciples stood in respectful attendance, their movements uniform and disciplined, even more rigid than puppets on strings.

“Welcoming the Elder of the Enforcement Hall—”

Another commotion rippled through the crowd as the outer sect disciples bowed again, parting layer by layer from the back.

A group of cultivators in dark blue uniforms with vermilion armbands emerged from the crowd.

Elder Li, who led them, walked onto the high platform with his hands behind his back. Seven or eight disciples with long sabers at their waists bore the same stern expression and severe gaze as him.

After both sides were seated, the stewards finally arrived in hurried steps, surrounding Zhao Yu Ping as he took his seat. The group in brown robes appeared somewhat disheveled, their expressions harried and exhausted.

Zhao Yu Ping, having missed the central seat, silently cursed Song Qian Ji and Meng He ze ten thousand times in his heart.

“Head Steward Zhao must be busy with important matters,” Elder Li of the Enforcement Hall remarked with veiled sarcasm.

Zhao Yu Ping assessed the other’s expression and probed gently:

“The two Elders may not know, but last night two outer sect disciples went out and have not returned. We were just searching for them, which delayed us somewhat.”

Hearing this, Elder Li frowned. Among the thousands of outer sect disciples, several went missing, died accidentally, or fled down the mountain in betrayal each year—when had Zhao Yu Ping ever truly cared about them?

Elder Liu of the Discipline Hall said coldly: “The assessment has been set. Absence is considered forfeiture. We wait for no one.”

Zhao Yu Ping smiled and said: “But these two are among the most outstanding talents in the outer sect. Today they have a great chance of entering the inner sect.”

Behind him, Steward Li hastily added: “Head Steward Zhao, as the overseer of the Steward Hall, has always been fair and just, cherishing and loving talent. He truly cannot bear to see them miss this opportunity…”

Elder Li could not listen anymore and wanted to make some sarcastic remarks, but changed his mind at the last moment: “Who are these two disciples?”

When something is unusually abnormal, there must be some trickery. Let’s see what scheme this Zhao fellow is planning.

Zhao Yu ping: “Song Qian ji and Meng He ze. Do you recognize them?”

Never heard of them!

The outer sect disciples are under your management, how would I know them?

Both men silently cursed but repeatedly nodded on the surface, pretending to suddenly realize:

“Oh, so it’s those two!”

“They are indeed two good seedlings!”

Zhao Yu Ping’s mind was restless, seeing everyone as someone who might be plotting against him from behind.

He suddenly stood up and announced loudly: “Everyone, the steward who patrolled the outer sect dormitories last night just reported to me that Song Qian Ji and Meng He ze went out late yesterday and have not returned. Although the sect has a great protective array guarding the mountain, the formation only prevents outside enemies, not mountain beasts. I believe that if they had not encountered danger, they would never be late for the assessment.”

He paused for a moment, raising his hand and pressing downward to signal the disciples below to quiet down as they erupted in discussion. His voice raised even higher:

“Don’t worry! Life is paramount, and the Steward Hall will not stand idly by. When we confirm that both of them are safe and sound, we will organize the assessment again. What do you all think?”

His words were like cold water poured into hot oil—with a splash, the crowd below became even more agitated.

The Elders on the platform were dumbfounded. What madness had possessed Zhao to suddenly adopt this caring-for-disciples persona? Wasn’t it too late for that?

Could it be that Zhao Ji heng was not his family’s descendant but merely a front, and these two were his real relatives, causing him to panic as soon as they went missing?

Seeing this reaction, Zhao Yu Ping felt quite pleased. Unexpected, wasn’t it? Strike first, then control the narrative:

“The Steward Hall and Discipline Hall have always upheld righteousness. I assume the two of you have no objections?”

The two Elders were speechless. Whatever Zhao Yu Ping’s motives, he had already claimed the moral high ground.

Even if fairness, justice, and openness in the outer sect were merely for show, they had to be convincing enough to make most people believe and follow the rules.

Below the platform, the disciples were emotionally stirred, with some already shouting:

“Senior Brother Meng has never associated with Song Luo. How could they have disappeared together? It must be that Song Luo who harmed him! He feared he couldn’t surpass Senior Brother Meng today, so he resorted to such means!”

“Don’t panic, we’ll help search for them. Senior Brother Meng is blessed by heaven and will surely escape danger!”

Though they disappeared simultaneously, their reputations were opposites. Before long, Song Qian ji had been branded the culprit, practically tried on the spot.

Zhao Yu Ping let out a long sigh of relief.

With this setup in place, anyone who wanted to accuse him—he could firmly deny it as a false accusation, confident he could turn the tables. Besides, when it came to finding people, if his people found them first, he could eliminate them first.

He took a deep breath: “Then listen to my arrangement, today we will temporarily…”

“I found them!” A shout exploded from the edge of the square.

That voice was extremely familiar, full of vigor due to intense excitement, echoing repeatedly through the mountains:

“Song Qian Ji and Meng He ze are here—”

Zhao Yu Ping’s vision darkened, and his breath caught in his chest, nearly causing him to faint.

The shouter, dressed in a brocade robe with a jade crown, exuded wealth and nobility.

It was none other than Zhao Ji Heng.

***

Zhao Ji heng hadn’t been drunk last night.

He had reserved the entire Spring Breeze Pavilion at the foot of Huawei Mountain, inviting outer sect disciples he was friendly with to drink wine and listen to music.

A wealthy young man never lacked peers to flatter him.

Amidst flowers, strong wine, and beautiful companions, gold cups, jade cups, and crystal cups flowed freely.

Compared to Zhao Ji Heng’s extravagance and generosity, his arrogant temperament seemed insignificant.

Everyone drank until thoroughly intoxicated, except for him who, contrary to his usual behavior, merely sipped and maintained clear eyes.

Before dawn, beautiful servant girls entered to attend to him.

Bathing in fragrance, dressing and donning his sword, fixing his hair, and securing his crown.

Zhao Ji Heng stroked a beauty’s smooth little face and sighed: “It’s still more comfortable living here. It feels like home.”

“Master Zhao, please don’t forget about little me,” the beauty teased, reaching out with entangling hands, which he deftly avoided.

“No more playing around, your lord has important matters today.”

The outer sect dormitories were crude; he viewed them as pigsties and dog kennels, rarely returning there for the night. After completing his daily cultivation, he would hurriedly descend the mountain with friends, spending every night in the pleasure quarters.

No matter—this lifestyle would soon end. His uncle had already made arrangements. After today, he would enter the inner sect.

To that heavenly immortal palace, to learn those supreme Dao methods, to become a person above all others.

Today was his big day.

Zhao Ji Heng put on his most magnificent ceremonial robe and carried his most valuable magic tool.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he slightly raised his chin, feeling spirited and impressive.

“Let’s go!” he shouted.

Upstairs, door after door was pushed open eagerly. The outer sect disciples who had stayed there overnight poured out, adjusting their clothes and following Zhao Ji heng’s footsteps downstairs.

The stairs creaked and the floorboards shook.

The flattering praise of his sycophants, the eager pleas of beauties to stay, the small tunes of lutes bidding farewell to generous clients—the entire Spring Breeze Pavilion suddenly awakened, becoming a chaotic stew of noise before dawn.

Zhao Ji Heng stepped forward amidst the clamor, crossing the threshold.

Just as his foot touched the ground, a cloud of dust rushed toward him, with someone shouting: “Wait!”

The person wore the uniform of a Huawei Sect steward, his expression anxious. Zhao Ji Heng frowned, instinctively sensing trouble.

With city buildings densely packed, flying on swords was not convenient for searching. The steward who came down the mountain to deliver the message could only rush with urgency, searching every brothel and tavern in the city before finding this place. Still out of breath, he first pulled Zhao Ji Heng away from the crowd and whispered:

“Young Master Zhao, you can’t go! Things have changed. Head Steward Zhao instructed that you should find a quiet place and lay low for a while!”

****

A night of rain had washed the spring mountains greener this morning.

The morning breeze was slightly cool, white mist surged like a sea tide, and the mountain path was slippery and rugged.

Meng He ze’s feet never touched the ground as he carried Song Qian Ji on his back, leaping over every moss-covered stone like a nimble bird, darting straight into the depths of the valley.

They had already left the Broken Mountain Cliff, taking a rarely traveled small path.

Song Qian ji: “My injury is on my arm, I’m not lame.”

Meng He ze smiled sheepishly: “Senior Brother Song, I’m not yet familiar with the lightness technique you taught me. I wanted to practice with some weight.”

Human sandbag Song Qian Ji was speechless.

As they swiftly rose and fell, the morning light pierced through the dripping pine branches, shining into their faces, causing him to squint slightly.

“Wait,” Song Qian ji suddenly patted Meng He ze’s shoulder.

Meng He ze, with his mind fully on the lightness technique, hadn’t noticed the surrounding movements. His feet tried to stop but, due to momentum, still surged forward more than ten yards, following the mountain path around a bend before finally stabilizing.

“What is it, Senior Brother Song?”

Too late. Song Qian Ji sighed inwardly.

Zhao Ji heng trudged up the mountain, his wide sleeves making a rustling sound.

Zhao Yu Ping had told him to find a quiet place. He certainly couldn’t stay in the city, as he was a celebrity in the pleasure district and would be enthusiastically welcomed wherever he went.

He could only go up the mountain, and he could only take the secluded paths.

The wind blew through the forest sea, and birds chirped, accompanying the voices of seven or eight outer sect disciples—his loyal lackeys—who followed behind him, creatively helping him curse:

“That Song Qian Ji and Meng He ze knew they couldn’t match Senior Brother Zhao and didn’t dare to show their faces, so they hid.”

“Why should the assessment be postponed just because they’re hiding? There’s nothing to compare anymore—the inner sect position should belong to Senior Brother Zhao!”

“Shut up!” Zhao Ji heng knew why his uncle told him to lay low temporarily, but he couldn’t say. His face turned ashen as he gritted his teeth:

“Those two dogs, if I happen to meet them…”

Before he could finish, the mountain path turned, and Zhao Ji Heng instinctively looked up.

Both parties came face to face, equally startled.

The main road was spacious, yet they didn’t take it.

On the narrow mountain path, they met unexpectedly.

“Ah!” Zhao Ji Heng jumped up, pointing at Meng He ze’s nose: “Well, well! You, you both aren’t dead after all!”

Meng He ze coldly replied: “Thanks to good fortune, my life is resilient.”

Zhao Ji heng thought: Didn’t you two jump off a cliff together? What are you doing here?

Meng He ze thought: Weren’t you already predetermined to succeed? Why aren’t you at the square showing off your skills, and what are you doing here?

Zhao Ji Heng probed: “Song Qian Ji, you’re not going to the assessment?”

Song Qian ji: “Not anymore, I’m injured. Please help us report our absence.”

His expression was calm, his tone matter-of-fact, as if asking a classmate to help get food.

Zhao Ji Heng nodded reflexively, saying okay, then suddenly realized: “You’re talking nonsense! When did you get injured? Since when did you two become so close?”

The outer sect disciples behind him, unwilling to show weakness, started clamoring:

“Because of you two, the assessment has been postponed, delaying Senior Brother Zhao’s path to immortality. Can you bear that responsibility?”

Meng He ze shouted sternly: “What do you want to do!”

Since learning the techniques taught by Song Qian Ji and obtaining the high-grade magical tool of the luminous jade prayer beads, his confidence had grown substantially.

His furious outburst was imposing, genuinely causing the group to step back.

But Song Qian ji had no interest in children pulling each other’s hair; he was only interested in going down the mountain to farm.

He patted Meng He ze’s shoulder, signaling the youth to calm down, and said gently:

“Junior Brother Zhao, look, I can’t even walk now and have to rely on Junior Brother Meng to carry me. I have no fate with the inner sect. Let’s forget about it this time.”

Zhao Ji Heng stared at him with a look of disbelief.

Who was Song Qian ji? The number one hard worker in the outer sect of Huawei Sect, with a resounding reputation!

Zhao Ji Heng knew even more clearly to what lengths Song Qian Ji would go to seize this opportunity.

The more he now said he wouldn’t go, the more it seemed like he was preparing some treacherous plot.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Zhao Ji Heng sneered. “Severely injured, is that it? Can’t move, is that it? Today, even if I have to carry you in a sedan chair, I’ll get you up there!”

He suddenly waved his hand. “Come here!”

Seven or eight outer sect disciples swarmed forward.

***

“I’ve already brought them!”

The bustling square fell into a brief silence at Zhao Ji Heng’s loud shout.

The outer sect disciples all turned their heads to look.

Bathed in the morning sun, breeze, and all kinds of gazes, Zhao Ji heng felt as if he had done something that would turn the tide:

“Behold—”

Four outer sect disciples carried a crimson reclining chair together.

They held their heads high, their steps steady, walking confidently forward.

Meng He ze’s expression was guarded as he followed closely at their side, in a protective stance.

On the soft cushioned chair reclined a person.

Song Qian ji passed through the sea of people, his procession ostentatious, as if being paraded through the streets.

The square was dead silent. The crowd collectively opened their mouths, and over a thousand shocked gazes nearly shot him through like a sieve.

Song Qian Ji’s face was expressionless, his heart as dead as ash.

To be reborn only to suffer this kind of humiliation—did this world make any sense?