“Song Yin!”
Song Yin turned her head and saw Helan Tan’s face, which was full of rage. Before she could even process why he looked so handsome every time he got angry, a marriage contract was thrust before her eyes.
Song Yin only spared it a glance before saying airily, “Oh, this? This is one I didn’t want. You can just throw it away for me.”
Previously, when the saber cultivator had insisted on a marriage contract before he would even hold her hand, Song Yin had simply found a stall that specialized in fortune-telling and ghostwriting. She’d asked the owner to write a marriage contract for her.
Then she thought: What if others are just as troublesome? I might as well have several written.
Her mind continued to whirl. There were still many handsome disciples in the Sword Sect and Saber Sect she hadn’t met yet. It would be better to wholesale the contracts—getting it all done at once would save time and effort.
She had instructed the old man at the stall: “Look, put all the nice, clichéd phrasing in there. Make every copy exactly the same, and write two hundred of them.
“My name should be at the very front, written beautifully with gold dust. Leave the man’s name blank; I’ll fill it in myself when I need to use it.”
“Hey, I told you not to put the man’s name before mine! My name belongs at the front. It has to be before the man’s.”
In the first draft of the sample contract, the old ghostwriter had habitually followed the traditional format, putting the saber cultivator’s name first and hers second. Song Yin was not pleased.
“Hmph, I don’t want this one anymore, and you’re not allowed to charge me for it.” Song Yin snatched the draft and used it to wipe a stray cat’s paws.
The stray cat was white, fat, and had just been neutered. It lay half-dead by her feet, its tongue lolling out of its mouth and its head tilted as it dozed in a daze.
She’d managed to get a discount for ordering two hundred copies, and the old man even threw in a free fortune-telling. The stall owner’s brush was nearly bald by the time he finally delivered the goods.
When she returned, Sikong Lan happened to be checking her Linear Algebra homework. Song Yin had carried the stack of marriage contracts into her Master’s room, tossed them on the table, and completely forgotten about them when she left.
Now, with the sun setting, Song Yin looked at the one Helan Tan was holding and figured that after she’d wiped the stray cat’s paws with it, the cat must have snatched it up as a toy and wandered off.
“What is it?” Song Yin tilted her head.
Helan Tan was practically going mad with jealousy.
Why was she always like this? Wasn’t she supposed to be pursuing and charming him?
He was clearly difficult to win over; wasn’t he the best choice in terms of both cultivation and family background? Why was she so half-hearted, always finding time to pursue others?
Could she not just be dedicated and responsible, and focus all her Charm Demon abilities solely on him?
Helan Tan gritted his teeth. “You won’t even give me a formal status, yet you’re writing marriage contracts for others?”
Song Yin: “No, I didn’t write it. The old grandpa at the fortune-telling stall wrote it.”
She didn’t understand why he was so furious over this.
Helan Tan stared into her innocent almond eyes, unable to find a single trace of care for him.
He clenched his fists and turned to leave. “Don’t come looking for me again.”
Song Yin watched his retreating back, then turned and handed her candied haws to Jiang Zuilan. “See? He’s always being so incomprehensible.”
The Zhuque Province Youth Exchange Competition continued in full swing.
Tomorrow was the professional finals. Jiang Zuilan had already made it into the top three, and tomorrow would decide the first-place winner of the Physical Cultivation group.
Zhan Zhaozhao had been eliminated long ago.
“What was your rank?”
Zhan Zhaozhao puffed out his chest: “Seventy-sixth!”
“Oh,” Song Yin nodded knowingly. “So there were a total of seventy-six Equipment Cultivators in this competition.”
Song Yin didn’t know how many Array Cultivators were competing. As far as she was concerned, whenever she entered a competition, she was always first.
However, everyone could always accurately deduce the total number of participants from Zhan Zhaozhao’s rank.
Jiang Zuilan went to buy a whetstone to further sharpen her brass knuckles.
“Are you going to grind away this sharp bit?” Song Yin pointed to a rusty, pointed corner on the knuckles.
On the surface of the well-used weapon, a sharp triangular spike jutted out abruptly, covered in rust. It was hard to tell if the rust had formed from being stained with too much blood.
“Of course not. I can’t wait to use a ‘Tetanus Blade.'”
Jiang Zuilan’s features were as soft as mist, but her strikes were brutal and merciless. She deliberately left several patches of rust on her knuckles; the secret was tetanus.
This was the great secret of integrating medicine into physical cultivation.
There was a mechanism on the knuckles that, when pressed, released a dagger.
Jiang Zuilan bought the whetstone and sat boldly by the merchant’s counter to begin her whetting and forging.
Song Yin sat nearby playing with a transmission jade slip, clicking on an anonymous forum.
The forum’s hot search page was a ranking list with vast exposure and influence.
The Cultivation World Youth Talent List (Visual Edition).
Otherwise known as the “Must-Eat List.”
She clicked the page. Without even having to scroll down, she saw Helan Tan’s name at the very top, ranked number one.
Her eyes squinted with pleasure. She had already eaten this one; he was delicious.
She scrolled down and found several junior brothers from the Hehe Sect. The entire list was dominated by members of the Hehe Sect and the Sword Sect.
This was the project Ling Yi and the Hehe Sect Elder had collaborated on. They had successfully “muddied the waters,” air-dropping Hehe Sect disciples—who were of decent quality but lacked fame—into the influential rankings, driving a massive wave of popularity.
Song Yin scrolled up and down, admiring the magnificent looks of several senior and junior sisters from the Hehe Sect. Then she skipped over the male guests; she didn’t care much for her own junior brothers.
She didn’t really want to “eat” anyone from the Hehe Sect. Her requirement for prey was that they be clean and have their Primal Yang intact. She had heard enough about the cultivation rules of the Hehe Sect not to place much hope in the idea that “maybe he’s a good boy.”
Song Yin scrolled further and spotted a few well-known sword cultivators.
She felt that sword cultivators were poor but strong. She was hesitant about whether or not to “eat” a sword cultivator.
“I don’t recommend sleeping with a sword cultivator,” Jiang Zuilan whispered in her ear, her whetting making a loud shink-shink sound.
Recently, because of the upcoming free-for-all finals, Jiang Zuilan had been constantly on guard against sword cultivators. She had suffered enough at their hands to have quite a strong opinion.
“What a sword cultivator pursues is speed.”
Jiang Zuilan’s expression grew solemn as she leaned in closer. “I’m afraid they’re just as fast in bed.”
Jiang Zuilan stepped onto the arena to face Yue Shan, whose strength lay in his defensive capabilities.
Yue Shan was a formidable rival. He devoted his entire skill set to tempering his body, making it as impenetrable as a copper wall or an iron bastion. His defense was invincible.
Despite his top-tier defense, he could also use sonic attacks, making him an almost impossible puzzle for his opponents.
Jiang Zuilan’s style focused on offense, utilizing the fierce and domineering nature of her mermaid lineage. Each of her moves was more brutal than the last, yet she could not break through.
From the start of the match until near noon, hundreds of rounds had passed. The air was filled with the explosive sounds of punches and the crack-crack of the blue bricks beneath them, which were splintering like spiderwebs. Offense and defense were evenly matched, resulting in a stalemate.
Below the arena, a goose-yellow figure moved as nimbly as a koi fish.
Song Yin had smeared her hands with a salve that detected Primal Yang. She wove through the bustling crowd of spectators, occasionally brushing her hand against the wrists of any cultivators who caught her eye.
Three colors appeared on their hands: white, blue, and red.
Li Jing was also watching the match. Song Yin glanced at his wrist and saw, to her shock, that it was blue. she immediately stood eight yards away from him.
There had been rumors that Li Jing’s rapid progress was due to using human “furnaces.” Now it seemed those rumors were likely true.
How disgusting, how disgusting. Song Yin wished she could purify the air around her. she decided that in the future, she would always apply the salve first before deciding whether or not to talk to someone.
Then again, she had only approached Li Jing to help Jiang Zuilan neutralize an enemy’s combat strength, so it didn’t really count as “hunting.”
When Song Yin finished her circuit and returned, she found Sikong Lan’s expression looking increasingly grim.
Following Sikong Lan’s gaze, she looked at the arena.
Jiang Zuilan’s situation was dire.
After hundreds of rounds, her opponent’s defense was at its peak. He did nothing but defend, never attacking. It was like throwing punches at a towering mountain; he didn’t budge an inch. Jiang Zuilan, however, put power into every move and was already beginning to grow breathless.
Below, people were placing bets again.
“Is this the finals? Make it more intense! Punches to the flesh! Knock his teeth out!”
“They’ve been fighting all morning. This isn’t a fixed match, is it? Did they agree on this beforehand?”
“Hurry up! I still have to eat lunch!”
“If this goes on, I’ll be eating my midnight snack before we even know who the winner is!”
“Place your bets! Place your bets! If the stalemate lasts another half hour, the odds are five to one. An hour, seven to one. Two hours, twenty to one!”
Jiang Zuilan’s lips moved slightly as she cursed silently. Previously, because someone’s cursing had been too foul, the judges had added “no swearing” to the rules, backed by yellow card warnings.
If not for that rule, Jiang Zuilan might have already used her words to poke her opponent full of holes.
Although Jiang Zuilan had always been someone who was “ruthless and of few words”—preferring to fight rather than talk—facing such an opponent made every ounce of effort feel like hitting cotton. There was no response, it was exhausting, and she couldn’t win. Under this sense of powerlessness, she was driven to the point of wanting to swear.
Jiang Zuilan took a deep breath, telling herself to stay calm.
Her mind quickly began to recall everything she had learned over the years. She was a disciple of the Qunxian Sect; she didn’t just have the best Master to teach her, she also had the most clinging daily sect routines to torment her.
As the quiet and honest one among the four disciples, Jiang Zuilan’s chores were second only to her junior brother’s.
Big Senior Brother only ate the freshest fish that had “voluntarily taken the hook,” forcing her to go fishing in the dead of winter. Jiang Zuilan would sit in the cold wind for hours. After she caught one, Big Senior Brother would take the fish in his mouth, cock his tail, and stroll away over the rocks. He also insisted on eating dried mice.
The Second Senior Sister polished small seashells to make mirrors, making Jiang Zuilan pick through the beach for shells the size of a fingernail one by one. After she finally filled a pouch, her senior sister would cross her arms and decide it wasn’t intricate or beautiful enough, forcing her to go dig for colored ores in the mines.
Her junior brother would mess up his homework and, fearing Master would think him stupid, fearing Master’s Husband would pity him, fearing Big Senior Brother would scratch him, and fearing Second Senior Sister would mock him, he would only come to Jiang Zuilan in tears for tutoring. He could get “twenty plus nine” wrong multiple times, making her blood pressure skyrocket until she dove into the courtyard pool, reverting to her mermaid form to douse her head in cold water just to calm down.
Keep going, Jiang Zuilan comforted herself. She had endured such tedious daily routines for so many years; surely she couldn’t be defeated by a single boring morning during the finals?
Aside from her matchless combat power, she was more patient than anyone.
Jiang Zuilan steadied her heartbeat once more. Whenever a fish relaxed its guard, it was scooped up by Big Senior Brother’s paw. Whenever a man grew smug, he was seen through by Second Senior Sister and discarded.
When an enemy thinks they’re going to win, they will definitely show a weakness.
Jiang Zuilan made up her mind. She feigned exhaustion, her slight panting turning into heavy gasps as if her strength had finally run out.
The arena was being broadcasted via water mirrors from every angle. The sound of her panting was amplified by the Broad-Sound Birds, making it seem like a harbinger of defeat.
She threw another punch at her opponent, but her feet seemed to lose their strength. Her punch went wide, and the momentum of the strike carried her waist forward. Her legs stumbled, and she nearly fell.
Her face was full of indignation and frustration as she let out a sigh and a “tsk.”
The bettors below erupted. It was clear that the turning point in the finals had appeared. The loser was spent, while the winner was as immovable as a mountain.
“I’m changing my bet! I’m changing it to Yue Shan!”
“It seems the Qunxian Sect can only stop at second place. Sigh, demon cultivators just don’t have the foundation.”
“No, no! You can’t change it! Once the piece is placed, the hand must leave the board!”
Sure enough, Yue Shan let down his guard. He was only a cultivator with a level similar to Jiang Zuilan’s, and he also had moments of exhaustion. After fighting all morning, while Jiang Zuilan was tired, his own powerful body-tempering defense was starting to become precarious.
He was also nearly out of energy and wanted to end the fight quickly, looking for an opportunity to claim victory.
Now, Jiang Zuilan was panting, her legs so weak she seemed about to collapse, as she bent over to hold her knees and catch her breath.
Now!
Yue Shan spotted the moment, and his pupils dilated sharply.
“Hah!” he let out a thunderous shout.
As he shouted, a sonic attack shot forth. A pale-gold surge of power struck toward Jiang Zuilan.
Jiang Zuilan suddenly looked up, a sharp glint in her eyes, and dodged to the side.
The sonic wave didn’t stop; it tore straight through, smashing the bluestone slabs on the arena floor.
Jiang Zuilan accelerated with two quick steps. Knuckles in hand, she charged at Yue Shan like an arrow, showing no trace of her previous exhaustion.
Her first strike missed, leading to another exchange.
Yue Shan released another golden sonic attack, which actually shattered Jiang Zuilan’s knuckles.
Clang! The knuckles exploded into pieces.
Below, Song Yin’s pupils contracted. They never imagined the knuckles Jiang Zuilan always carried would break.
The arguments below grew louder as the match reached its peak:
“Isn’t it completely over now? She’s still putting up a desperate resistance.”
“The knuckles are shattered; I’m afraid her bones are too. Stop fighting and just admit defeat.”
Everyone was certain that the breaking of the knuckles meant she had surely lost. There was only the time it took to release a single sonic wave between Yue Shan and the podium.
Yue Shan sneered and lowered his defense, concentrating all his strength into a sonic attack.
However, Jiang Zuilan spun around, picked up the sharpest shard of the knuckles, and charged once more.
She had already seen where his weakness lay when he attacked. How could a technique be both offensive and defensive? There was no such good thing in this world; when he attacked, he inevitably exposed a flaw in his defense.
Before Yue Shan’s sound could even be released, Jiang Zuilan struck directly at his throat, sealing his muteness acupoint.
Yue Shan froze. A tiny red dot appeared at the acupoint, yet it firmly sealed his voice and broke his overall defense. His “Unbreakable Golden Body” was like a shattered golden statue; the gold lacquer fell away, splintering piece by piece along the web of cracks.
Crack. Yue Shan’s external defense shattered completely.
With his key acupoints sealed, he couldn’t even move, changing from an immovable mountain back into a man made of clay.
Thwack! Another punch.
Jiang Zuilan held nothing back. All the frustration she had endured today was concentrated in this punch. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped her fist and slammed it into his stomach, sending him flying eight yards off the arena.
The arena was silent. The crowd was silent. After a moment of absolute stillness, the sound of the gong finally rang out.
Clang!
Jiang Zuilan had overcome the danger and won the match.
Physical Cultivation Finals: Jiang Zuilan, victory!
Yue Shan was injured and was supported back to the podium by his fellow disciples. He took second place and, having been thoroughly beaten, had nothing more to say.
The crowd below was also joyful.
“Ah, luckily I was too slow to change my bet! Uh, I mean, luckily I trusted her! Jiang Zuilan of the Qunxian Sect—I didn’t change my bet! What a huge win!”
“Hehe, the bookmaker closed the bets fast. God is looking out for me! I won! Twelve times the stake!!!”
“Good bookie, I’ll bet on Jiang Zuilan again next time!”
“A good win, a magnificent win! From today on, I’m a fan of the Qunxian Sect! I’ll bet on them every time!”
Jiang Zuilan took first place. The organizers handed her a golden brush, and she was currently signing autographs in front of the arena, one after another.
Song Yin circled around Jiang Zuilan and, taking advantage of the chaos, smeared the detection salve on the wrists of several nearby cultivators. None suited her. She bounced back, only to see Sikong Lan looking troubled.
“I have another concern.”
Sikong Lan’s goal was the immortal herb, the Phoenix Feather Sunflower.
However, for some reason, even though the group matches were over and the winners had been decided, there wasn’t a single word about the herb.
There was no definite news, and not even any major hype about the herb.
The attitude of the entire Zhuque Province toward the Phoenix Feather Sunflower seemed to be one of guilt and avoidance.
The finals were over, and the organizers were tidying up the area. Countless avian immortal servants were fluttering their wings as they decorated the podium.
The other spectators and competitors were also murmuring:
“How strange. Why hasn’t the prize been announced even now?”
“Right. Usually at this time, an official would be giving a tearful speech about the history of the Phoenix Feather Sunflower: ‘From a single seed to a divine herb of the immortal realm—what I did right.'”
Auspicious clouds drifted by and brilliant light radiated as someone finally arrived, late but high-profile, to award the prizes.
After a pile of clichés, the organizer commended the competitors and announced the prizes:
“Third place in Physical Cultivation, Lu Renjia, rewarded with one Nascent Soul Pill.”
“Second place in Physical Cultivation, Yue Shan, rewarded with one Jade Skyflower.”
“First place in Physical Cultivation, Jiang Zuilan, rewarded with one Heaven-Piercing Bone.”
There was no Phoenix Feather Sunflower! None at all!
Sikong Lan frowned and said nothing. Song Yin had already run off to check the prizes for other groups—Sword Cultivators, Talisman Masters, and the rest. Every group had exactly the same prize distribution; not a single Phoenix Feather Sunflower was to be found.
The other competitors were also surprised. For years, the Zhuque Province had used the Phoenix Feather Sunflower as the first-place prize. This year’s prizes were vastly different from past arrangements.
However, the prizes being offered were also extremely rare and precious divine herbs, and their quality and value were even a step higher than in previous years—several times more valuable.
Though everyone was surprised, they didn’t complain. Instead, they felt a slight sense of delight.
At the end, the organizer didn’t forget to offer a warm thank you: “Our thanks to the Medicine Sect for their generous sponsorship of this competition!”
Helan Tan made his appearance with a leisurely stride. His posture was upright, and his expression was noble and aloof—the picture of a refined young master of a wealthy family.
He caught a glimpse of a color on another male cultivator’s wrist and frost instantly filled his eyes. He accurately located Song Yin in the crowd, gave her a cold glance, and let out a snort.
A few days ago, the nobles of Zhuque Province had been sighing and discussing matters with Helan Tan.
The production of Phoenix Feather Sunflowers was insufficient this year; there were only two.
If every professional group were given one, there wouldn’t be enough to go around. If some groups got one and others didn’t, the favoritism would be unfair.
The nobles had racked their brains, not knowing how to fill the gap.
“Give both to me.”
Helan Tan was a guest and sponsor; he had provided the solution. He swapped out the prizes directly, replacing the traditional Phoenix Feather Sunflower with something more expensive—far more valuable than those two spiritual plants—solving the organizers’ urgent problem.
The organizers were still loudly praising the Medicine Sect and encouraging the winning disciples, placing great hopes on them and looking forward to their performance in the friendship free-all in two days.
Sikong Lan sighed softly. “It seems the Phoenix Feather Sunflowers are with the Young Sect Master of the Medicine Sect.”
Song Yin hugged her arm, her eyes darting as she thought of a plan: “Master, don’t worry.”
The herb her Master needed was with someone else—and she happened to know that someone else a bit.
Song Yin patted her chest. “This isn’t hard at all. Leave it to me.”
She had been to Helan Tan’s room; she knew it like the back of her hand.
She would go steal the Phoenix Feather Sunflowers right now.
A moonless, windy night—the perfect time for theft.
Song Yin disguised herself and changed into nimble clothes that were easy to move in.
She had already spent a night at Helan Tan’s inn, and since he hadn’t changed rooms, she familiarized herself with the route and climbed over the wall and through the window. Every step she took on the rug was silent.
The night was deep, and no lamp was lit in the room.
Song Yin was familiar with the layout. She moved silently across the rug, staying close to the wall, not even bumping into a cabinet.
The sound of steady breathing came from the bed in the bedroom.
On the table not far from the bed were two spiritual plants that glowed with a jewel-like luster in the dark.
If one ignored the fact that they glowed, they looked at first glance like the large red cockscomb flowers found by the roadside. But looking closer, the “cockscomb” was filled with many tiny feathers, delicate and beautiful, like the tail feathers of a phoenix.
The Phoenix Feather Sunflowers were placed openly on the desk.
Song Yin hurried over to look. She had seen illustrations and knew what they looked like.
These were indeed Phoenix Feather Sunflowers—one large and one small. A red jewel-like glow shimmered softly on the surface of the flower crowns.
There were also several mirrors on the desk: a fan-shaped seashell mirror, a pastel ceramic handle mirror—various styles, all expensive.
Because of the light from the sunflowers, the mirrors reflected fragments of light like a red sea of stars.
Song Yin quickly grabbed the two spiritual plants and held them tight in her palm.
She kept her spiritual sense active, ensuring there were no traps or arrays.
She then gazed greedily at the mirrors.
Helan Tan had given her several small mirrors last time, each one to her liking—cute and exquisite masterpieces.
She hesitated slightly about whether to steal the new mirrors as well.
In an instant, she wisely thought: I can’t take them. Taking them will expose my identity.
Song Yin nodded with self-satisfaction, admiring her own boldness and meticulousness.
Then, the Pear Blossom Umbrella drifted out silently, appearing beside her out of thin air. The closed umbrella looked like a long white sword. Controlled by her intent, it tilted and floated in the air, the tip lightly tapping the ground as a teleportation array formed instantly.
A faint golden circle, like a gathering of countless tiny star-dust particles, appeared at the tip of her umbrella—an intricate and exquisite array.
It was the high-level teleportation array she used frequently, with its destination set to her own inn.
The array took effect in the blink of an eye. She would be able to teleport back to the Qunxian Sect’s inn in an instant and deliver the loot to her Master in a bright room.
Song Yin closed her eyes with easy joy, then opened them.
However, the power gathering the array suddenly dissipated. The faint golden light and the encircling star-dust vanished, leaving only darkness. Song Yin was still in the same spot.
She froze. Her eyes scanned the dark room; aside from the spiritual plants and the reflections in the mirrors, nothing had changed. She was still in Helan Tan’s room.
She was confused for a moment, then frowned, about to try the array again.
Whoosh. The lamps were suddenly lit.
Someone stood behind her—a tall, slender figure casting a large shadow. A powerful hand firmly gripped her arm, and a deep voice asked:
“What did you take?”
It’s over. Song Yin’s mind went blank. She’d been caught red-handed.
Song Yin said nothing, quickly controlling the array to prepare for an escape.
The Pear Blossom Umbrella tapped the ground again—rapidly and forcefully, as if she were trying to poke a hole in the floor.
The array still didn’t respond. The tip of the umbrella poked here and there, yet it failed to trigger any effect.
It was as if an enclosure specifically targeting her had been placed over this room. This invisible, transparent shield surrounded everything, completely blocking her spiritual power.
Like a trap set specifically for her, it had been waiting for her, and none of her magic would respond.
Song Yin’s arm was still gripped tightly by a warm, powerful palm that wouldn’t let her escape.
She had done something bad and couldn’t leave. But after assessing the situation, no panic appeared on her face. Her eyes remained clear, and her mind raced until she found a solution.
Helan Tan said nothing, holding her arm firmly as he waited for her response.
And Song Yin chose to strike first.
She suddenly slumped down onto the rug, covering her eyes with the back of her hand, and began to fake a loud cry:
“Waaah! You must think very poorly of me!”