Early the next morning, the moment Qu Xiangxiang stepped into the cultivation hall, the disciples who had been whispering or laughing loudly all fell silent. Almost every pair of eyes turned toward her.
Qu Xiangxiang froze, startled. What was going on?
She quickly pulled out her little bronze mirror to check herself. After a few extra glances, she was satisfied. Yes, the flower of Cangxuan Mountain was still as beautiful as ever. Her face was clean—so why were they all staring?
Confused, she set down her thick *Compendium of Cultivation Talismans* on the desk and sat beside Lin Zheng. Leaning close, she whispered, “Zheng Zheng, what’s happening? Why does it feel like everyone’s looking at me?”
“I…” Lin Zheng bit her lip, frowning, looking both upset and conflicted. “First, tell me—are we best friends?”
“Of course,” Qu Xiangxiang replied without hesitation.
“Then why are you and Mu—” Before she could finish, a sharp, grating laugh cut through the air behind them.
Qu Xiangxiang wondered how a human could produce a sound like nails on a chalkboard. She turned to see Yun Qingqing, dressed in pale violet robes, striding in with her arms folded.
“Heh.” Yun Qingqing sneered directly at her.
Qu Xiangxiang: “…Do you have a problem?”
What she really wanted to ask was: *Are you insane?*
Yun Qingqing lifted her chin, clapping her hands disdainfully as if brushing off filth. “Shameless trash.” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was clear enough for everyone in the hall to hear.
Qu Xiangxiang narrowed her eyes and shot back, “A hollow defeat, all bluster and no substance.”
Lin Zheng burst out laughing at Yun Qingqing’s instantly reddened face.
The disciples craned their necks, eager to watch the drama unfold.
“If Qu Weiran hadn’t used dirty tricks, how could I have been ambushed by you, a useless weakling? Knowing your sister is a waste with fragile spiritual roots, and still resorting to underhanded attacks—your whole Qu family is vile!” Yun Qingqing’s pretty face flushed red and green with rage, her eyes bulging from the strain. “If Qu Shangcai hadn’t rebuilt the dormitories, how could trash like you even study alongside us? Trash is trash, useless forever, always relying on others’ filth!”
Her words made the crowd’s expressions shift uneasily.
Many thought the same, but no one dared say it aloud. After all, Qu Xiangxiang was the daughter of the Qu family—the largest, oldest alchemy sect in the cultivation world—and sister to its heir, Qu Weiran. To offend the Qu family was to risk one’s life.
Before Qu Xiangxiang could respond, Lin Zheng slammed the desk and stood. “Yun Qingqing, what’s wrong with you this early in the morning!” She smirked. “Could it be you’re just bitter that Xiangxiang was the one who harvested the Soul-Losing Grass you wanted?”
Struck at her sore spot, Yun Qingqing’s face twisted further, her painted lips trembling. “Lin Zheng, you’re nothing but a third-rate lackey groveling at Qu Xiangxiang’s feet. What right do you have to speak to me?”
Qu Xiangxiang rose too, her round apricot eyes sharp as blades. “Yun Qingqing, looks like the lesson I gave you last time wasn’t enough.”
She feared Mu Hanzhang, yes—because she knew he was destined to kill her. Facing one’s executioner was never easy. But that didn’t mean she was weak enough for anyone else to trample. “Now, you will apologize—to my family, and to my friend.”
“Apologize?” Yun Qingqing laughed shrilly, eyebrows arched. “Me? Apologize? Those words don’t exist in my life. Qu Xiangxiang, are you delusional? Who do you think you are?”
“Oh, I see.” Qu Xiangxiang nodded, feigning sympathy. “Then your life must be incomplete. No wonder you’re so uncultured.”
“Qu Xiangxiang, you—!”
“Yun Qingqing, I suggest you use that decorative head of yours to think carefully about whether to apologize. Otherwise, I promise your fate won’t be better than last time.”
Yun Qingqing was struck dumb, unable to say more than “You!”
Lin Zheng gave her friend a thumbs-up. “Sister, that was brilliant.”
Qu Xiangxiang shrugged modestly. “Oh, nothing special. But it’s more than enough to rile her up.” Truth be told, she had never lost a war of words in her life.
The watching disciples chuckled behind their sleeves, unable to hold back.
Yun Qingqing knew the laughter was aimed at her. Ignoring the rule forbidding weapons in the hall without elder permission, she drew her sword and thrust straight at Qu Xiangxiang’s throat.
Lin Zheng screamed in terror. Luckily, Qu Xiangxiang reacted quickly, leaping back five steps. Such a vicious woman.
Qu Xiangxiang had only wanted to spar with words, never to take Yun Qingqing’s life. But Yun Qingqing’s strike was clearly meant to kill.
Qu Xiangxiang’s eyes sharpened instantly.
As Yun Qingqing’s silver sword gleamed, the hall erupted in whispers.
“Heavens, Yun Qingqing’s gone mad! This is the cultivation hall—she actually drew her sword! Isn’t she afraid of punishment?”
“Did you hear what Qu Xiangxiang said? No wonder she snapped.”
“Qu Xiangxiang… she’s all talk. Against Yun Qingqing, she doesn’t stand a chance.”
“You’re right. She’s in real trouble now.”
Qu Xiangxiang felt the familiar spiritual current surge in her dantian. She knew she couldn’t defeat Yun Qingqing—but as the sword lunged toward her, a voice inside told her firmly: *Don’t be afraid. You won’t lose.*
“Yun Qingqing, you brought this on yourself!” Her gaze turned icy as she prepared to summon her whip.
But before she could act, a powerful voice thundered: “Enough! Yun Qingqing, what are you doing?!”
It was Elder Bai Shu, entering with a stern face. Behind him came Mu Hanzhang—expression unfriendly—and beside him, Ruan Qingtao, smiling brightly.