Qian Wenjing of Lianyue Valley was a veteran medicine cultivator. In his youth, he had lived an unruly and uninhibited lifestyle, but nowadays he kept his doors closed year round, obsessively immersing himself in research to refine legendary, peerless medicines within his own domain.
Nine Turn Rejuvenation Pill, Seven-Treasure Beard Beautifying Pill, Ice Skin Jade Face Powder… By cleverly targeting the core pain points of his audience, combined with the genuinely remarkable efficacy of his products, his creations had once been absolute bestsellers across the entire sect. Later, he was disciplined by the Sect Master for gouging prices and playing at hunger marketing. Now, he had become completely well-behaved, hiding inside Lianyue Valley while claiming he hated taking on disciples, thus enjoying a peaceful and quiet retirement.
“Anyway, disciples nowadays don’t even like learning medicine cultivation. Staying by a broken furnace all day, getting your face covered in soot and ash, it’s way too pathetic! Learning the sword or the zither is so much cooler. With a swish-swish-swish, a whole crowd of enemies drops dead. It’s especially great for showing off.”
However, Qian Wenjing only got to enjoy his leisure for a few brief days. Even though he had blatantly advertised his hostile attitude toward guests for the entire sect to see, it was still no match for Lan Yibai dropping a little kid right onto his lap.
There was no helping it, the man held high seniority, so Qian Wenjing had to swallow his pride and bear it in silence.
“Greetings, Martial Uncle Qian.”
At that time, Jiang Sanli was five or six years old, a beautiful little snow-child, right at the most endearing age.
Qian Wenjing led him inside with a warm smile, only to watch in sheer disbelief as Jiang Sanli managed to burn through three medicine furnaces in a very short span of time. Staring incredulously at the kid hiding in the corner, who was wide-eyed with watery, remorseful eyes, Qian Wenjing had no choice but to swallow his bitterness and tearfully spend money to procure new ones.
Only after spending more time together did he realize that this kid’s talent was actually frighteningly formidable, those earlier performances had merely been a compliance test directed at him.
“I just wanted to test my importance in Martial Uncle’s heart.”
The young boy would curve his beautiful eyes, meticulously sorting out less-than-perfect spiritual herbs from the furnace, his technique already refined to perfection.
With the face of an angel and the heart of a devil, he acted like an obedient child only in front of Lan Yibai. At all other times, he dragged around an icy, arrogant face. Yet because of his poor health, no one could do anything to him, allowing him to act like an absolute tyrant in Lianyue Valley every single day.
“You’re saying… Jiang Sanli is sick and needs bed rest?”
Qian Wenjing wore an indigo wide-sleeved robe with a gleaming array of ringing jade pendants fastened at his waist. He toyed with a folding fan in his fingers, pressing it against his lips as he raised an eyebrow at the respectful Yi Xiannianyue standing before him.
Him? Sick? And confined to bed?!
Those with chronic illnesses learn to cure themselves. If Jiang Sanli usually suffered a headache or fever, taking a few of his own self-refined pills would instantly make him as lively as a tiger. Would he ever need the hassle of simmering decoctions?
Qian Wenjing’s expression gradually grew indescribable. Just as he was about to speak, the voice-transmission talisman in his bosom suddenly vibrated.
On it were just four simple words, signed by Jiang Sanli:
【Don’t expose me】
Qian Wenjing let out a sneer, not caring much about it. Finally catching the brat’s weakness, he was beaming with joy and about to open his mouth when…
【Or else I’ll tell the Sect Master that you secretly go down the mountain to hawk spiritual medicine.】
Qian Wenjing’s flame was instantly doused.
One of the ironclad rules of Renqing Sect was that all elders were required to guard the mountain gates and could not leave the mountain easily except during specific events.
If the Sect Master found out he was secretly sneaking down the mountain, the consequences would be unimaginable.
Stinking brat, his mind is rotten to the core.
Qian Wenjing gritted his teeth, raising his eyebrows. Seeing Yi Xiannianyue standing in front of him with his spine held completely straight, an idea suddenly sparked in his mind.
Lan Yibai treasured this eldest disciple of his above all else, keeping him hidden away in Qingya Cave so few people ever saw him. Only now was Qian Wenjing getting a close look.
The youth had a defined brow bone, a high nose bridge, and distinct lips that weren’t overly sharp. His amber eyes were limpid without a single impurity. He radiated an excellent, unpretentious demeanor, exuding a clean, pure vitality from the inside out. Even at a young age, he carried the noble posture of a tall pine or bamboo.
A very upright young man, Qian Wenjing nodded in satisfaction. An absolute top-tier business partner.
Qian Wenjing nodded to signal he understood, generously stating that it wouldn’t be too late for Jiang Sanli to return once he had fully recovered. Immediately after, he unfastened the brocade pouch at his waist, cleared his throat, and slowly laid out his plan.
“Good nephew, when you go down the mountain, help your Martial Uncle sell off these spiritual medicines. I’ll give you a cut, how about a 90/10 split?”
Yi Xiannianyue froze in place, looking thoroughly bewildered.
“An 80/20 split?”
Qian Wenjing probed cautiously, taking a step closer.
“A 70/30 split! I can’t offer any more than that.”
Yi Xiannianyue simply hadn’t reacted in time, yet his commission cut had soared up to thirty percent. He felt shamefully tempted.
His junior brothers were all at the age where they were growing rapidly, they couldn’t do without all kinds of clothes, food, and medicinal pills. The sect expenses were huge, and he couldn’t keep relying on his Master’s money forever. He needed to completely eliminate any opportunity for ambiguous entanglements with his Master.
Yi Xiannianyue’s eyes flickered. He took the brocade pouch and gripped it tightly: “Alright.”
…
An illness comes like a landslide and recedes like pulling silk. Jiang Sanli’s illness dragged on for quite some time, with Yi Xiannianyue taking meticulous care of him by his side. By the time he returned to the martial training grounds to practice, half a month had already passed.
And it just so happened to fall on Jiang Yunting’s shift.
The martial training ground was orderly and silent. All the disciples stood holding their swords in a neat, uniform mass. As a result, Jiang Yunting’s voice was exceptionally distinct, blending with the morning wind in an unquestionable tone:
“Yi Xiannianyue, come up.”
Hearing this, Chen Erluo instantly knitted his brows tightly and looked around.
No one dared to speak, but he could clearly see the surprise and spectacle-seeking looks on the surrounding disciples’ faces.
Why would an inner-door disciple be here? Renqing Sect had never had such a precedent, so the expressions on everyone’s faces inevitably carried a degree of uncomfortable speculation.
Yi Xiannianyue’s position was awkward. At a young age, he had become the First Senior Brother to everyone in the sect, yet his natural talent was hardly high, naturally drawing jealousy and dissatisfaction from others. It was only because he used to stay exclusively in Qingya Cave and never appeared before the public that he had been shielded from such malice.
Yi Xiannianyue had already stepped forward. He had not yet learned light-footwork techniques, so he simply climbed the green slate steps toward the pavilion, step by step.
His physique was still in the growing phase of youth, slender yet erect like a pine tree on a cliff edge. A plain belt outlined his narrow waist, unadorned by grand trappings, yet carrying an innate air of refined elegance.
Chen Erluo glared fiercely at several outer-door disciples who bore ill intentions, then quickly hurried after him.
“Martial Uncle.”
Yi Xiannianyue held his sword pointed downward and bowed in greeting.
“I thought you wouldn’t come again.”
Jiang Yunting’s voice was stern. He kept his hands behind his back, looking down at the youth before him from on high.
He had always looked down on Lan Yibai and his detached, aloof attitude toward the world. A real man walking through the world should save people and benefit society, what was the point of hiding in a cave all day ignoring worldly affairs, despite possessing world-shaking talents?
Fake nobility.
By extension, he also looked down on Yi Xiannianyue, the most useless disciple under Lan Yibai’s door.
“Demonstrate the sword art from last time.”
“You are the First Senior Brother, set an example for your junior brothers and sisters.”
Having said that, Jiang Yunting raised his head and stepped aside with pride.
Last time, he had seen Yi Xiannianyue practice swordplay, it was a complete disaster, stumbling and wobbling all over the place.
To even get basic familiarity with a complete set of sword techniques took at least a month of practice, let alone for someone like Yi Xiannianyue who had zero foundation.
Chen Erluo, who had rushed over, witnessed this scene. His expression shifted subtly, and he leaned against the railing with his arms crossed, waiting comfortably to see what would happen.
The crowd on the training ground swapped their expressions for playful or expectant gazes. The boundary between inner and outer disciples in Renqing Sect was distinct, even the annual fixed competition within the sect was held separately.
The outer-door disciples had long felt disgruntled about it.
Yi Xiannianyue took a deep breath. His green practice robes fluttered lightly in the wind, outlining the slender yet power-laden lines of his shoulders and back.
His eyes closed slightly. When he opened them once more, the warmth in his amber eyes was completely gone, replaced by an almost reverent focus and a formidable, untouchable aura of righteousness.
His movements began.
There were no flashy variations. His moves were as swift as lightning, the edge of the sword tearing through the air and emitting short, sharp shrieks charged with resolve.
Every strike was clean and straightforward, without the slightest hesitation or drag. The flashing sword light wove a silver net around him. His gaze remained locked in total concentration, closely following the tip of his own sword, each form carrying a unique, sharp edge.
Every single stance was standard and perfectly replicated, without a single flaw or mistake.
Suddenly, all movement ground to a complete halt, and the blade snapped back into its sheath. The training ground fell dead silent, as if the only thing left between heaven and earth was Yi Xiannianyue’s gradually calming, shallow, yet steady breathing.
So what if he lacked natural talent? Industry compensates for clumsiness. By expending a million times more effort, one can always accomplish great things.
Whenever he had free time over the past few days, he had reviewed this set of sword techniques in the courtyard. As time went on, Chen Erluo had even come over to give him personal instruction. Working day and night without rest, he had long committed every move to memory.
Chen Erluo suddenly burst into a smile, led the applause, and walked over to stand right beside Yi Xiannianyue.
“For basic swordplay, it’s practiced decently enough,” Jiang Yunting nodded, his face expressionless. “You must remember: cultivation is not meant for hiding in a cave with nothing to do, amusing yourself. You must have a sense of righteousness and your own Dao within your heart.”
These words went far beyond mere veiled insults, they poked directly at Lan Yibai’s spine.
Everyone in Renqing Sect knew these two did not get along, though it was mostly Jiang Yunting’s unilateral resentment, Lan Yibai turned a blind eye to all emotions directed at him by others.
Hearing this, Chen Erluo instantly flew into a rage. Blatantly humiliating their Master like that, how could he tolerate it?! Yet before he could take a few steps, he was blocked by an arm.
Following that arm with his gaze, Chen Erluo froze in place, his face filled with utter disbelief.
Yi Xiannianyue lowered his eyes and said in a peaceful voice. “Yes. Thank you for your guidance, Martial Uncle.”