Gu Chengming was starting to notice that his cultivation arts were achieving enlightenment at a somewhat alarming frequency.
Other cultivators spent decades battering their heads against walls without making an inch of progress, or had to rely on rare heavenly treasures just to squeeze out a breakthrough.
His cultivation arts, by contrast, didn't even require him to think. The Hundred Bones Resonance had gone and comprehended the Primordial Imperial Merit on its own. The Huiyuan Sword Art was running fully automatic sword-training sessions. And now here came the Myriad Mysteries Convergence Method joining the party.
At this rate, Gu Chengming was starting to wonder if future battles would require nothing more than him shouting, "Infinite War God, come forth!" — whereupon his cultivation arts would take human form and personally beat his enemies to a pulp on his behalf.
Well. That would still be a good thing.
From a practical standpoint, advancement in one's cultivation arts meant a rise in power, and a rise in power meant more standing and more room to breathe in the immortal cultivation world.
From a personal standpoint, gaining favorability was easy — the kind of thing a seasoned visual novel player could knock out between routing difficult targets, just to decompress.
The Hundred Bones Resonance, however, was not pleased.
[Hundred Bones Resonance thought to itself: that nearly had it fooled — good thing it hadn't let the Heavenly Emperor Gu find out, or the embarrassment would have been catastrophic.]
— I wasn't actually trying to find out.
Gu Chengming felt a little helpless.
...
Meanwhile, at the main peak of the Wenjian Sect.
The sky was clear and bright, the breeze light and unhurried.
Ren Wencai's mood today was exactly like that mountain wind — open and refreshed.
Ever since Gu Chengming had come under his wing, he'd felt as though everything was going smoothly. Even that cultivation bottleneck he'd been stuck at for ages seemed to have quietly begun to loosen.
Today was the day the peak elders convened for their regular assembly. The Sect Master was away on travels and had not returned, and the more senior elders were all in closed-door cultivation — so the task of presiding over the meeting had fallen to the Elder of External Affairs of the main peak: his martial brother, Zhou Qi.
Ren Wencai walked at an unhurried pace, climbing the steps and entering the assembly hall.
The hall itself was spacious, yet at this moment it carried an unusual and subtly charged atmosphere.
To the left of the head seat sat his martial brother Zhou Qi, composed and upright. To the right, in the guest seat, sat an elderly man robed in moon-white.
The man had snow-white hair and beard, and lightly fanned himself with a folding fan painted with ink-wash bamboo. He had the bearing of a refined immortal scholar — elegant and unhurried.
Yet despite the affable chatter, the smile never quite reached his eyes. His words were directed at Zhou Qi, but his gaze kept sweeping the room.
Ren Wencai's eyes sharpened slightly. He understood at once.
The Yunyue Sect and the Wenjian Sect were both sword-cultivator sects, and on the surface they maintained perfectly cordial relations — but the undercurrents running beneath had never once stopped flowing.
The Wenjian Sect built its foundation on "one sword breaks all methods" — swift and thunderous. The Yunyue Sect, by contrast, championed "entering the Dao through musical law, wielding the sword through melody" — fluid, adaptable, ever-changing.
Their philosophies were incompatible, and competing with each other had long since become routine.
This Liu Changfeng in particular had always delighted in posturing and one-upmanship through words and ceremony. His visit today carried the air of someone who had not come in peace.
"Why, isn't this Martial Brother Ren?"
Liu Changfeng, ever sharp in perception, snapped his fan shut and turned his head, a smile spreading across his face.
"It's been years. Martial Brother Ren's bearing has grown even more distinguished than before. It seems that however tiresome the affairs of Huiyuan Gate may be, they do wonders for tempering the spirit."
The words sounded like pleasantries, but the barb was clear — a pointed implication that Ren Wencai had spent years outside the inner circle, still mired in Huiyuan Gate's administrative trivialities.
Ren Wencai's expression didn't flicker. He simply cupped his hands in a mild salute and replied with a smile:
"Martial Brother Liu looks just as distinguished as ever. What brings you all the way to our Wenjian Sect? Surely you could be taking your ease back at the Yunyue Sect."
"Oh, restlessness after too much stillness, nothing more."
Liu Changfeng chuckled, unruffled, and shifted slightly to one side — revealing a young girl who had been standing quietly behind him.
She appeared to be around fifteen or sixteen, dressed in plain green robes, an ancient sword slung across her back. Her gaze was cool and her expression detached. She hadn't spoken a word, yet she carried a quality distinctly her own — something only a sword cultivator could possess.
It was a sword intent that could only be cultivated by someone who had given themselves wholly to the sword, without a single wandering thought.
Ren Wencai's gaze lingered on her for a moment, and he formed his own quiet assessment.
First realm, eighth layer.
And that aura of hers — it bore a striking resemblance to the bitter-cultivation path of the Wenjian Sect.
"Allow me to introduce her to everyone."
Liu Changfeng stroked his beard with a smile, his tone carrying a restrained but unmistakable pride:
"This is my newly taken last disciple — Li Mozi. The child is stubborn by nature. She has no interest in our Yunyue Sect's methods and insists on pursuing the bitter path of sword cultivation. There's simply nothing I can do with her."
"Mozi, pay your respects to our seniors."
Li Mozi stepped forward. She skipped the elaborate formal courtesies entirely, and instead clasped her sword arm across her chest in a single clean bow, her voice cool and clear:
"Junior Li Mozi greets the assembled seniors."
Zhou Qi gave a slow nod, his gaze deep and measured as he spoke:
"Lucid Sword-Heart, untouched by dust. Martial Brother Liu has found himself a fine disciple."
"Martial Brother Zhou flatters her."
Liu Changfeng waved a dismissive hand, then pivoted his tone with a sigh:
"But this child cultivates in isolation, closed off from the wider world — she'll struggle to reach true greatness. Our Yunyue Sect specializes in musical arts, after all. When it comes to pure sword-path combat, your distinguished sect leads the field. I've brought her here today precisely so she can broaden her horizons and witness what a true sword-cultivation great sect looks like."
As he spoke, his gaze drifted with a half-smile toward Ren Wencai:
"We've heard that your sect's outer gate has been producing exceptional talent in recent years. I wonder — might you arrange for a disciple of comparable cultivation to offer Mozi a few pointers? It would do her good to have that overweening pride of hers knocked down a peg, lest she sit in her well thinking she's seen the whole sky."
There it was. The knife behind the smile.
Ren Wencai let out a cold laugh inwardly.
"Offering pointers" — what a pretty way to dress up what was clearly an attempt to use a sparring match as cover for a suppression campaign.
He'd walked in here with a first-realm eighth-layer genius sword cultivator and expected the Wenjian Sect's outer gate to put up a fight?
The outer-gate disciples were numerous, yes — but the majority hovered around the sixth or seventh layer of the first realm. Making it to the eighth was already exceptional.
As for the ninth layer — most of those were older disciples who had stagnated there due to various setbacks. The edge had left them long ago. Facing a talent burning bright with fresh momentum, they would lose three parts of their nerve before the fight even started.
If inner-gate disciples were sent instead, winning would look like bullying; losing would be outright humiliating.
This Liu Changfeng had done the math very precisely indeed.
"Martial Brother Liu is too amusing."
Ren Wencai lifted his teacup and took a measured sip, his tone perfectly unhurried:
"A sparring exchange between our two sects would of course be a fine thing. But this child has only just entered the sect — she should be focusing on consolidating her foundation. Competing too aggressively too early risks unsettling her Dao-heart."
"Ah, but Martial Brother Ren, that's where you're mistaken."
Liu Changfeng swayed his fan with a look of earnest concern:
"The sword-cultivation path is forged precisely in battle and strife. Besides, she has hit a bottleneck and is in need of an evenly matched fight to sharpen her blade. Surely a sect as grand and storied as yours would not struggle to find a single suitable sparring partner?"
At this point, backing down any further would simply be showing weakness.
The atmosphere in the hall grew somewhat strained.
Several elders' expressions darkened. It was clear they had all seen through Liu Changfeng's intentions.
It was then that Zhou Qi, seated at the head, finally spoke.
"Since Martial Brother Liu is so enthusiastic, our Wenjian Sect shall naturally oblige."
His voice was calm, his gaze sweeping the room before settling on Ren Wencai:
"Martial Brother Ren, outer-gate affairs fall under your management. I'll leave the arrangements to you — one month from now, on the Sword-Questioning Stone platform, let the disciples of both sects exchange pointers. First blood only, no serious injury."
What is that supposed to mean, Martial Brother Zhou?
That's just the scapegoat seat dressed up with a fancy name, isn't it?
Ren Wencai's heart sank, and for the life of him he couldn't work out when he'd managed to offend this martial brother of his.
He glanced at Liu Changfeng's expression of serene confidence, then looked at the cool-faced Li Mozi, and began calculating rapidly.
An ordinary disciple was out of the question.
But if there was a wildcard…
A particular figure surfaced in Ren Wencai's mind.
If that person could make another breakthrough within the month…
Ren Wencai's expression steadied. He set down his teacup and gave Liu Changfeng a faint smile — one that held not the slightest warmth in his eyes:
"Since Martial Brother has given the word and Martial Brother Liu has expressed such interest, then I'll accept the task."
Liu Changfeng appeared not to notice the undercurrent in his words, and kept right on smiling like a man basking in spring sunshine:
"Then this old man shall look forward to it. Ha ha — Mozi, come. Let's go take in the sea of clouds at the Wenjian Sect. No musical accompaniment, but it has a grandeur all its own."
With that, he rose and took his leave with Li Mozi in tow, his footsteps unhurried, every inch the picture of a man who had already won.
Watching that mismatched pair — old man and young girl — disappear into the distance, Ren Wencai's expression betrayed nothing. But inwardly, he spat.
Just you wait. Once Little Gu hits his stride, I'm going to march him right through the Yunyue Sect's door and have him trample your disciples into the ground!
"Well. Lucky timing for him."
On the other side of the hall, Zhou Qi murmured to himself. Seeming to worry that Ren Wencai might hold a grudge, he added a word of consolation:
"Win or lose, that's par for the course in any contest. So long as the Wenjian Sect's backbone doesn't break, no one will have anything to say about it."
Ren Wencai turned around. He knew perfectly well what his martial brother meant. He let out a quiet sigh:
"Martial Brother really has handed me a wonderful assignment."
"A fine sword's edge is forged on the whetstone, as they say."
I'll whet your grandmother!
Outside the assembly hall, mountain wind swept in carrying wisps of cloud.
The Wenjian Sect's peaks were steep and jagged, and with the sea of clouds churning between them, there was indeed a quality here wholly unlike that of the Yunyue Sect.
Liu Changfeng drifted his fan idly, outwardly admiring the scenery while the corner of his eye never left the young girl at his side.
The two walked along the mountain path for a stretch, and when no one else was near, Li Mozi suddenly stopped.
She gazed at a group of outer-gate Wenjian Sect disciples in the distance sparring with one another, a slight furrow forming between her brows.
"Master."
She spoke, a note of puzzlement in her voice:
"This disciple doesn't understand — why fix a date a month away? If it's just a sparring match, it could be settled today. Why waste time like this?"
Liu Changfeng heard this, folded his fan shut, and asked with an air of amused curiosity:
"Oh? So it sounds as though you feel the Wenjian Sect's outer gate has no one who could last even a single exchange against you?"
Li Mozi withdrew her gaze and answered with composure:
"This disciple observed the outer-gate disciples along the way here. Their footwork is unstable, their qi breath muddled. A few appeared to have a decent foundation, but their sword-hearts are unsettled — there is no pure will to seek the Dao in their eyes. People like that, even given another month of training, will only add a measure of brute strength. They will make no progress whatsoever on the path of the sword."
She paused, her palm lightly running over the hilt of the ancient sword on her back:
"I do not believe the Wenjian Sect's outer gate has anyone who can withstand my sword."
Liu Changfeng raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Mozi, under the whole of heaven, heroes are as plentiful as fish in the river. Never underestimate the people of this world."
He delivered the rebuke out of habit, though his tone carried no real severity:
"The Wenjian Sect has deep foundations, after all. Perhaps there is some unpolished gem that neither you nor I have noticed yet?"
"A gem that chooses to remain covered in dust has only itself to blame."
Li Mozi lifted her chin slightly:
"Even if such a person truly exists — one month is not enough time for them to catch up to this disciple's footsteps. Strong is strong, and weak is weak. On the path of the sword, there is no room for luck."
With that, she said no more.
Liu Changfeng looked at her straight-backed silhouette — upright as a pine — and the words of caution that had been forming in his mouth were quietly swallowed back down.
This girl — her edge really was too keen.
But…
Liu Changfeng turned it over in his mind.
The bitter-sword path is one of breath and nerve — it fights for that single hairbreadth of an opening. What people call sword intent is so often forged precisely in this kind of sharpness: the willingness to press forward against ten thousand, heedless of the odds.
If he were to forcibly blunt her edge now, lecturing her on humility and concealment, he might instead damage her blade — cloud her sword-heart, make her hesitant and timid.
But if she could carry this invincible momentum and crush the Wenjian Sect's outer gate in one fell swoop, that edge would transform into true "force."
Win once, and the edge sharpens a degree. Win again and again without defeat, and that edge would eventually become her sword intent.
"Very well then."
Liu Changfeng reopened his fan and said with leisurely ease:
"Since you have such confidence, your Master will say nothing more. Spend this month on the guest peak, nurturing your sword. When the time comes, let's show this Wenjian Sect what a true sword cultivator looks like."
Li Mozi gave a faint nod, her gaze settling on the churning sea of clouds in the distance.
"This disciple will not fail her mission."
After learning that the so-called Myriad Mysteries Convergence Method was no dark art, and that it had obediently gone into closed-door cultivation to study itself, Gu Chengming shelved the matter for the time being and put it out of his mind.
The days that followed were somewhat livelier than usual in the little courtyard.
Apart from Jiang Lu, Ren Wencai had lately become a regular visitor as well.
Perhaps because the "cultivating the Hundred Bones Resonance by mimicking story serials" explanation, while internally consistent, was genuinely a bit outlandish — every time Ren Wencai came by, there was a probing look in his eye, as though he were searching Gu Chengming for signs of qi deviation.
Being stared at like a specimen made Gu Chengming's skin crawl. He had no choice but to grit his teeth and act normal, all while cursing inwardly:
Elder, if you keep staring at me like that, I'll go mad even if I wasn't before.
Fortunately, after several observations confirmed that Gu Chengming's mind was clear, his reasoning coherent, and his cultivation steadily progressing, Ren Wencai finally set his worries aside.
On this particular day, Ren Wencai came calling again — but unlike his usual visits, he didn't exchange a few pleasantries and leave. Instead, he settled himself down and fell into easy conversation with Gu Chengming.
"Chengming, how has your cultivation been going lately?"
"Thanks to Elder's blessings, everything has been smooth," Gu Chengming replied.
Ren Wencai nodded, was silent for a moment, then spoke slowly:
"Something of moderate note has occurred in the cultivation world recently. Have you heard about it?"
Gu Chengming shook his head. "This disciple spends his days in secluded cultivation and knows very little of outside affairs."
"The Yunyue Sect has recently produced quite a remarkable seedling."
Ren Wencai let out a sigh, a complicated note in his voice:
"A disciple walking the bitter-sword path. Hasn't been in the sect long, yet the shape of a genuine sword intent is already beginning to form. Those old hands at the Yunyue Sect have been flaunting it to anyone who'll listen."
The so-called bitter-sword cultivation demanded that the practitioner treat their own body as the sword — tempering mind and spirit through hardship, relying on nothing external, seeking only that one strike to shatter all methods.
This path had an extremely high ceiling, but the process was grinding and punishing, and it was ruthlessly dependent on natural aptitude.
One misstep, and a cultivator could waste their entire life in mediocrity, achieving nothing.
Gu Chengming, of course, had no idea that in Ren Wencai's eyes, he himself was walking this very same path.
"Technically speaking, it was our Wenjian Sect that built its name on bitter-sword cultivation."
Ren Wencai lifted his teacup and took a gentle sip:
"The Fate-Reversing Tribulation-Severing Sovereign of old was the very embodiment of it. A single moment of enlightenment, three consecutive realm breakthroughs, the achievement of a great cultivator — that sword strike's brilliance is still spoken of with reverence throughout the cultivation world to this day."
"After that, our Wenjian Sect produced no small number of fine bitter-sword cultivation prospects. Only…"
Ren Wencai shook his head, a flicker of regret crossing his eyes:
"This path is simply too difficult, too demanding of talent. And with the world's spiritual energy weaker than in ages past, and people's hearts more restless than ever, fewer and fewer disciples are willing to settle down and cultivate in this near-self-limiting way."
At this point, he glanced at Gu Chengming, opened his mouth — then changed course:
"The Yunyue Sect, after all, grew from musical cultivation roots."
Ren Wencai set down his teacup:
"Even now that they've become a sword-cultivator sect, at their core they still chase elegant and refined things. So now that they've finally produced a bitter-sword cultivator, they want to proclaim it to the heavens — as though only they could be worthy of such a talent."
He hadn't said it outright, but Gu Chengming understood perfectly.
So they were just sour grapes.
Feeling that a sect that started out playing music had no business producing a bitter-cultivation seedling, and seething with envy at their good fortune?
Of course, Gu Chengming couldn't say any of that to his face. He could only nod along, wearing his best expression of "Elder is absolutely right."
"If it were only that, well, so be it."
Ren Wencai let out a sigh, his brow furrowing:
"But the Yunyue Sect has no sense of restraint whatsoever. They've actually gone and proposed a sparring competition between eight-gate disciples of our two sects."
"A competition?" Gu Chengming blinked.
"Indeed." Ren Wencai's voice grew more serious:
"That female disciple is at the first realm eighth layer, and walks the bitter-sword path — her combat power far surpasses others at the same level. Below the second realm, it would be genuinely difficult to find someone who could match her. Even if we sent out a first realm ninth layer peak disciple and won, it would look ungraceful — we'd be accused of bullying the weak."
"Unless…"
Ren Wencai fixed Gu Chengming with a burning gaze:
"Unless it were a disciple of comparable or even lower cultivation who won through sheer mastery of swordsmanship — that would be the only way to shut the mouths of those Yunyue Sect elders and leave them with nothing to say."
Gu Chengming's heart gave a jolt.
So he's pointing at me.
Among the entire Wenjian Sect outer gate, who other than himself could satisfy both conditions of "comparable or even lower cultivation" and "exceptional mastery of swordsmanship"?
[Hundred Bones Resonance burst out laughing: Heavenly Emperor Gu! Who would have thought that living again, you'd still be reenacting the scene of cutting down geniuses from every direction!]
The corner of Gu Chengming's mouth twitched.
Lord Heavenly Emperor, I haven't agreed to anything yet — how did it already become "cutting down geniuses"?
Besides, from Ren Wencai's description, a first realm eighth layer bitter-sword cultivator would have combat power approaching — or possibly exceeding — first realm ninth layer peak.
He had the Huiyuan Sword Art and Flowing Light, Sword Shadows backing him, and was confident his swordsmanship was second to none — but that first realm sixth layer cultivation was a genuine hard disadvantage.
Handling someone like Chen Qing at the first realm eighth layer was one thing; but facing a genuine talent of this caliber was a different matter entirely — there was real uncertainty in the outcome.
Not that he would definitely lose, but he couldn't guarantee a win either.
At minimum, he'd need to bring his cultivation up to the first realm seventh layer before he could feel confident about a sure victory.
"This disciple understands Elder's meaning."
Gu Chengming composed himself and clasped his hands in a bow:
"This disciple will apply himself diligently to cultivation and strive to break through as soon as possible. Should the sect have need of me, this disciple is willing to do his part."
He kept his words carefully measured — neither painting himself into a corner nor talking up his abilities beyond reason.
Ren Wencai heard this, and a glint of approval passed through his eyes.
Truth be told, this had been a last-ditch gamble to begin with.
Gu Chengming might be walking the bitter-sword path, but the time for that slow accumulation to bear fruit had come rather late.
As far as Ren Wencai could judge, if Gu Chengming could reach the first realm eighth layer, then perhaps he might be able to go a round with that Yunyue Sect talent.
But right now Gu Chengming had only just broken through to the first realm sixth layer, and that battle challenge from the Yunyue Sect would likely arrive within a month or two.
Whether he could even break through to the first realm seventh layer by then was another question entirely — and even if he did, it would still be seventh layer against eighth layer, with the odds strongly against him.
Still, if Gu Chengming truly could break through, and demonstrate remarkable swordsmanship in the match, even a loss wouldn't be too ugly.
It would at least prove that the Wenjian Sect was not without talent — only that this particular talent had started a little late.
That was the purpose of today's visit — to give Gu Chengming advance warning, and to secure a "floor" for the sect.
Losing was not shameful. What would be shameful was having no one willing to step up and fight at all.
"The fact that you have this heart is good enough."
Ren Wencai gave a nod and said nothing more, exchanged a few more casual words about points to watch in cultivation, then rose and took his leave.
After seeing Ren Wencai off, Gu Chengming stood in the courtyard, watching the drifting clouds at the edge of the sky, quietly turning things over in his mind.
A month or two to break through from first realm sixth layer to seventh layer — for most cultivators that would be no small challenge, but for him, it wasn't impossible.
Unlocking the Hundred Bones Resonance Heavenly Emperor's CG and riding the wave of a natural breakthrough — that might just do it.
But the pressure involved was real and not to be taken lightly.
Just as he was thinking this over —
[Flowing Cloud, Moon-Following Sword Art fell silent for a moment, as though it wanted to say something, but in the end said nothing.]
The moment that notification appeared, Gu Chengming cracked a smile.
You pop up and then say nothing — isn't that just a hint?
Flowing Cloud, Moon-Following Sword Art was almost certainly hoping he'd go teach those Yunyue Sect people a lesson.
So looking at things now, the immediate main storyline seemed fairly clear.
All things have their order, all skills their proper place.
For Gu Chengming, while he had agreed to the sparring match against the Yunyue Sect, if he were made to cultivate like an actual bitter-sword disciple — grinding away at sword intent day and night, cycling spiritual energy around the meridians without pause — the efficiency would be frankly heartbreaking.
After all, the raw natural talent of this body he was occupying was what it was.
If left entirely to his own devices, the expected pace was roughly one layer per year.
Compared to bitter cultivation, romancing cultivation arts for advancement was clearly the faster route.
When the Huiyuan Sword Art learned that Gu Chengming had agreed to the sparring match, it was naturally the most worried of all.
[Huiyuan Sword Art felt a measure of anxiety. It naturally hoped you could avoid this pointless conflict and cultivate in peace and safety.]
[But once it realized that the matter was already decided and could not be changed, it said nothing further — and began cultivating on your behalf without rest, day or night.]
[Huiyuan Sword Art: Automatic cultivation in progress]
[Current efficiency: 80%]
Ever since Gu Chengming's internal injuries had fully healed, the Huiyuan Sword Art's automatic cultivation efficiency had shot up from its original fifty percent to eighty.
That eighty percent was not eighty percent of Gu Chengming's meager natural talent — it was eighty percent of the Huiyuan Sword Art's own peak operating efficiency as a genuine orthodox sword-cultivation method.
And for his part, the main purpose of practicing swords now was no longer really about cultivating.
Or more precisely — from the very beginning, the main purpose of his sword practice had always been to romance the Huiyuan Sword Art.
Now, practicing swords was just going through the motions, primarily to maintain the bond he shared with the Huiyuan Sword Art.
What? You're asking why he was still keeping up the relationship even after maxing out the favorability?
My friend, have you never experienced the post-ending epilogue in a visual novel?
Even so, watching the Huiyuan Sword Art running in a state that was practically sleepless — still working to clear his meridians and refine his sword intent even while he slept — Gu Chengming couldn't help feeling a flicker of worry.
He wasn't sure whether cultivation arts needed rest, but he said anyway:
"Taking a break occasionally is fine too."
[Huiyuan Sword Art was deeply moved that you were thinking of it — you fool, it doesn't get tired.]
[What concerns it far more than this ceaseless cultivation is the possibility that you might get hurt in the upcoming match.]
[That Yunyue Sect disciple comes with fierce momentum. It must make you stronger, in order to keep you safe and whole.]
Well, if it said so itself, then it was probably fine.
Gu Chengming's heart settled somewhat, and he stopped dwelling on it — redirecting his focus back to unlocking the Hundred Bones Resonance Heavenly Emperor's CG and the story serial.
A few days later, Gu Chengming finally completed the fourth part of the story serial.
As the last character was set down, that familiar system chime rang out once more —
[Qingxin Formula Favorability +3]
[Current Favorability: 70 / Like]
Looking at that favorability value, now firmly into the "Like" stage, Gu Chengming gave a satisfied nod.
He gathered up the manuscript and set out for Yu Wenqiu's dwelling.
After all, this "story serial" had been written under the banner of keeping Elder Yu entertained — if he sat on it too long without delivering it, this particular Elder would likely start sulking again.
Yu Wenqiu's dwelling was as quietly elegant as ever, veiled in bamboo.
Yet when Gu Chengming arrived and saw the Elder, he immediately sensed that something was off.
Yu Wenqiu was dressed today in a pale lavender robe and reclining languidly against the soft couch. When she saw Gu Chengming enter, she did not wear the expression he was used to. Instead, she merely gave him a passing glance and spoke with a peculiar note of pointed sarcasm:
"Little Gu certainly listens to his Elder, doesn't he."
What Elder?
Gu Chengming's heart lurched, his expression shifting into something odd.
Why did those words sound so strangely familiar?
Was she… referring to Ren Wencai's earlier admonishment to keep his distance from Yu Wenqiu?
But how did Yu Wenqiu know about that?
When Ren Wencai had said those words to him, there had been no one else nearby.
Had Ren Wencai actually told her something?
Old man, surely not?
"This disciple is not sure he follows, Elder. Your words are a little beyond his understanding," Gu Chengming said, testing the waters.
Yu Wenqiu let out a cold huff. She seemed to realize her words just now had been somewhat undignified — unbecoming of an Elder — but what was said was said and couldn't be unsaid.
Honestly, she felt a little wronged. She had been keeping a quiet eye on this young man all along, had even helped him deflect more than a few headaches behind the scenes — and what had he done? He'd actually listened to that old stick-in-the-mud Ren Wencai and genuinely hadn't come to see her for several days.
On second thought, it was perfectly normal for an outer-gate disciple to be busy — he had cultivation to attend to, a book to write. Being occupied was reasonable.
She, an Elder, getting piqued over a little thing like that with a disciple — if word got out, she'd be a laughingstock.
Yu Wenqiu waved a hand and simply dropped the pretense. She sat up straight and said, a little testily but with her tone clearly softened:
"I saw it through the Clairvoyant Eye."
The Clairvoyant Eye?!
Gu Chengming's heart nearly leapt out of his chest. He barely managed to keep his expression from collapsing, thinking: you haven't been tracking my illicit financial transfers, have you.
Seeing Gu Chengming's startled face tinged with a trace of guilt, Yu Wenqiu explained coolly:
"The Clairvoyant Eye is a technique of the detection and scrying variety. As long as I wish it, the greater half of this sect is visible to me."
That made sense.
Once Gu Chengming understood that this Clairvoyant Eye was a cultivator's technique rather than anything else, he let out a breath of relief.
With the cause now known, the rest was simple enough.
"Elder, you have sharp eyes indeed — but this disciple truly had no intention of keeping a distance these past few days."
"For one, the Hundred Bones Resonance is tremendously difficult to cultivate. This disciple must spend a great deal of time each day in study and contemplation — there has simply been no capacity to spare. For another, that disciple evaluation matter recently caused this disciple a considerable headache. And thirdly, the story serial had just reached a critical juncture, and this disciple feared that writing it poorly would be an insult to Elder's eyes — so there was round after round of revision, which caused the delay."
"If this has given Elder any cause for misunderstanding, then the fault is entirely this disciple's."
Yu Wenqiu listened, and the nameless irritation in her chest dissipated somewhat.
She also realized she had perhaps been making a mountain out of a molehill. She was a little annoyed, and a little worried that Gu Chengming had genuinely listened to Ren Wencai and would stop seeking her out altogether.
But thinking about it — an outer-gate disciple, juggling cultivation and writing, being a little busy was perfectly normal.
She was an Elder, getting into a quiet sulk over this trifle with a disciple — if it got out, she'd be a laughingstock.
Yu Wenqiu waved a dismissive hand, picked up the manuscript again, and though her tone remained a touch haughty, it had clearly softened:
"Since it was for the sake of cultivation, then so be it. This serial is written well. You may go."
By the time he left Yu Wenqiu's dwelling, the sun was already low on the horizon.
Walking down the stone steps that wound down the mountain, Gu Chengming reflected that Elder Yu, for all her habitually languid and easygoing air, had a technique like the Clairvoyant Eye — and there was genuinely no guarding against it.
"It seems I'll need to be more careful going forward."
He thought to himself: this immortal cultivation world was full of tricks one couldn't prepare for. When he was romancing his cultivation arts in the future, he'd probably need to be more discreet — he couldn't let anyone notice the pattern.
By the time he returned to the little courtyard, the night had grown deep.
He pushed open the door, lit the candle, and had just settled himself cross-legged on the floor when —
The long-awaited notification finally arrived.
[Myriad Mysteries Convergence Method: Wonders' Gathering (CG Locked)]
[Current unlock progress: 0%]
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