Dan Peak.
Inside the hall, medicine cabinets stood in dense rows, and bamboo sieves for drying herbs were placed everywhere. A giant copper cauldron carved with a meridian diagram stood in the center of the main hall, with medicinal qi twisting and swirling around as wisps of white smoke curled up, emanating a bitter and singular fragrance.
Yan Zhun sat beside that copper cauldron, using the copper glow reflecting off it to stealthily look at the senior martial sister who was scooping medicine for him.
So pretty with the poise of an immortal and a refined appearance, elegant and dignified, she was precisely his dream type.
Dan Peak was filled everywhere with senior martial sisters who looked like fairy maidens; calling it a heavenly realm on earth was not an exaggeration in the slightest.
“Anti-diarrhea powder. Take it between meals.” The senior martial sister threw the medicine packet onto the small table in front of Yan Zhun with a cold expression. “I really don’t know who could be as stupid as you, eating biscuits that have gone sour.”
Yan Zhun carefully took the medicine packet, coughing twice in embarrassment.
Before this, he really hadn’t known that biscuits could turn sour; servants had always brought biscuits for him to eat.
He still wanted to explain something, but the senior martial sister turned her head and walked away indifferently. Yan Zhun tried to strike up a conversation several times, but failed to connect every time.
Sigh, in the city before, it had clearly been other people who came to strike up conversations with him.
The Wuwang Sect truly lived up to its reputation as one of the Four Great Sects; every disciple who could enter was a genius and standout from their own city.
Yan Zhun walked back dejectedly holding that medicine packet, thinking to himself that if he could be like Zishu Bai with a Heavenly Spiritual Root, or have outstanding looks like Jiang Xing, perhaps the senior martial sisters would look at him a few more times.
Just as he thought of Zishu Bai, he saw a snow-clothed figure passing by him from a distance. Yan Zhun was stunned, quickly turning around to take a closer look.
“Brother Xiaobai, it really is you! Do you live in the South Hall too?”
Zishu Bai shook his head, looking somewhat absent-minded as he said in a trance: “I am in the North Palace.”
Yan Zhun quickly noticed that something was off with him. His face and neck were terribly red—even when he had looked at the senior martial sister just now, he hadn’t turned this red. “Are you sick? Why is your face so red?”
“No…” Zishu Bai seemed even more bashful. He tugged at his collar to cover the crimson color on his neck, his voice as low as a mosquito’s buzz. “I just went to see Jiang Xing.”
Yan Zhun said worriedly: “Did he bully you? I told you long ago, it’s better to wait until the two of us are together before going to persuade him.”
Zishu Bai shook his head softly again, burying his head even lower. “He didn’t bully me; it was I who did something that made him unhappy. I’m sorry, I have to go back first.”
How could that be possible?
Yan Zhun stared at him walking away in bewilderment, unable to fathom what bad thing Zishu Bai could possibly do to Jiang Xing.
Anyone with eyes could see that Zishu Bai was a gentle person so kind he couldn’t even bear to step on an ant, right?
Besides, the way he looked just now made it seem as though he had been terribly humiliated by Jiang Xing.
Familiar with the route, Yan Zhun pushed open Jiang Xing’s door to investigate, only to happen upon Jiang Xing sitting on a small stool washing clothes.
What age was this? There were still people in the cultivation world washing clothes by hand!
His eyes widened, and he couldn’t help saying: “Why don’t you use a Cleansing Spell?”
Jiang Xing raised his head and gave him a cold look. “Get out.”
“Get out where?” Yan Zhun raised his hand and pointed to another small couch in the corner, almost angered to the point of laughing. “Did you forget that I live here too?”
If they hadn’t been assigned to the same room, he wouldn’t have met Jiang Xing, let alone carried Jiang Xing on his back all the way to Sand Town during the Demon Elimination Trial.
Before setting off, everything had been fine. Jiang Xing’s attitude had been friendly and gentle, and he had even told him that no matter what happened, they would never abandon each other and would be good brothers for a lifetime, and so on.
As a result, after returning from Sand Town, the two of them actually turned into bitter enemies.
The clothes in the washbasin looked like they had been scrubbed many times. Jiang Xing’s hands were completely red, yet he kept repeatedly washing that intimate undergarment.
What on earth happened?
Seeing that Jiang Xing was ignoring him, Yan Zhun simply stood in front of him.
“Still washing? If you keep scrubbing, it’s going to get ruined! Did some dirty stuff get on the clothes?”
Without knowing which words triggered it, Jiang Xing’s body froze for a moment, but he quickly resumed scrubbing the clothes with force, his expression stubborn, as if venting some kind of rage.
Everything that happened today he would never tell a single soul.
Just thinking about how he had actually been manipulated into an uncontrollable state by a fool like Zishu Bai using spiritual sense gave him waves of dizziness and headaches. Jiang Xing’s chest heaved violently; after a long while, he slammed the clothes back into the washbasin with deep hatred.
That fool must have done it on purpose.
Maybe Zishu Bai had picked up some script for counter-killing book-transmigrators, which was why he always deliberately approached him and gave him such unreliable, disgusting ideas.
And saying something about going to the North Palace to find him during the next two days—find him for what? To let him continue manipulating him?
Jiang Xing would not go. Even if he died, he wouldn’t go.
He stood up, forcefully pushed the in-the-way Yan Zhun aside, and went back to sit by the desk.
Yan Zhun stumbled from his push, almost falling to the ground. Staring at him angrily, he said: “You really… don’t recognize good intentions when you see them.” He cared about Jiang Xing, yet Jiang Xing didn’t appreciate it. Could it be that this person being so kind and friendly to him at the start was all an act, and this was his true colors?
Jiang Xing had no time to pay attention to him, flipping open the book on the table on his own. He still couldn’t understand those chaotic words and phrases, but someone else definitely could.
Tonight, to celebrate the end of the Demon Elimination Trial, an Opening Banquet would be held. He had to build his own network of contacts as soon as possible, so that he would never have to rely on Zishu Bai again.
He remembered that in the original book, a villain had appeared during the Opening Banquet as well. He couldn’t remember the name clearly, only vaguely recalling that he was an inner sect disciple.
That inner sect disciple was arrogant, domineering, and extremely brazen. In the original book, Zishu Bai had accidentally bumped into him and spilled the wine in his glass. That disciple flew into a rage on the spot and forced Zishu Bai to kneel down and lick his shoes clean.
An utterly clichéd plot. Naturally, Zishu Bai refused. Just as the two were about to clash, an old man stepped forward, said a few words, and stopped everything.
Zishu Bai enthusiastically thanked the other party and even invited him to drink wine together, chatting about everything under the sun, eventually becoming very good friends.
Only much later did Zishu Bai learn that the old man’s true identity was the Sect Master of the Wuwang Sect.
Jiang Xing didn’t want to complain about why the protagonist could always gain the favor of big shots right from the start. In his eyes, there was not a single thing about Zishu Bai from head to toe that made people feel comfortable—why did all the big shots in the book like this kind of fool?
If it were another book-transmigrator, they might have chosen to imitate Zishu Bai to get acquainted with the big shot, but Jiang Xing wouldn’t. At the end of the day, as long as Zishu Bai wasn’t a Heavenly Spiritual Root, the Sect Master wouldn’t have noticed this person at all. If it were a passerby, he would have been pressed to the ground to lick shoes long ago.
What he wanted to get acquainted with was that inner sect disciple.
Jiang Xing wanted to enter the inner sect, so winning over contacts in the inner sect couldn’t be more suitable.
Having made up his mind, Jiang Xing tucked that cultivation manual into his robe, tidied his collar in front of the mirror, a cold glare in his eyes.
He wanted Zishu Bai to know that this world doesn’t stop spinning without him. He had plenty of other ways to climb up until the day he stepped on him beneath his feet.
Opening Banquet.
March, Wuwang Sect Sacrificial Altar.
The white jade high platform was square, solemn, and grand. Daoist boys with hurried expressions moved to and fro on the stone steps, carrying seasonal fruits and fine wine and delicacies, placing them on red sandalwood tables covered with brocade.
In the pink glazed vase, plum blossom branches carried dew, glowing brightly. The fine incense smoke from the bronze burner subtly merged into the night.
A corner of the moon was missing, its clear radiance blending with the lantern lights. The sea of clouds surged, and the fragrance of flowers was intoxicating.
Soon, disciples from various peaks clad in uniform lotus Daoist robes entered one after another in single file, swords hanging at their waists, looking spirited and full of energy.
High above the platform, disciples dressed in ink-black lotus Daoist robes took their seats first. Across the jade balustrade, one could sweep their eyes over all the scenery on the sacrificial altar.
Just as a disciple sat down beside a small desk, a layer of shadow suddenly fell over his eyes. Subconsciously, he raised his head to look, and upon seeing the other person’s face clearly, he was instantly scared into breaking out in a cold sweat.
The other party stared at him coldly without saying a single word, yet it scared that disciple into standing up immediately.
“Senior Brother, please sit.”
Wu Moxun narrowed his eyes, kicking him away without a shred of mercy, then slowly sat in his position.
The people around heard the commotion, yet not a single person dared to make a sound. All shifted their gazes with trepidation, terrifyingly afraid that Wu Moxun would catch them peeking.
“What kind of trash thinks he’s worthy to sit in an inner sect disciple’s position? This batch of new disciples really doesn’t know the rules.”
Hearing the lackey beside him speak, Wu Moxun let out a disdainful snort. Looking down over the railing, he saw countless new disciples walking onto the sacrificial altar full of joy and excitement, looking around curiously.
They were all fools who hadn’t seen the world, actually thinking that the Wuwang Sect was a place where they could act recklessly.
However, the Lotus Heart Brew at the Opening Banquet was indeed very good. A jar of Lotus Heart Brew was unsealed only once every five years; it tasted mellow and fragrant, a top-tier delicacy of the Wuwang Sect that could not be tasted anywhere else under heaven.
The lackey beside him opened a new jar of wine for him and eagerly offered it up, but Wu Moxun waved his hand, speaking with considerable patience: “No rush. This Lotus Heart Brew needs to be drunk together with the Thousand Mountain Red Lychees. The combination of wine fragrance and fruit fragrance—that is true enjoyment.”
How could ordinary people understand such elegant taste? This was something he had researched himself. In previous years, the Thousand Mountain Red Lychees were always served at the very end. He had already waited five years; waiting a bit longer wouldn’t hurt.
The banquet quickly began. Elders took turns going up to the high platform to congratulate the new disciples on passing the trial, creating a scene of flourishing prosperity.
Yet to Wu Moxun, who attended every session of the Opening Banquet, those clichés were boring in the extreme. He had no interest in any of it and only cared about that jar of fine wine.
Without knowing how long he waited, the banquet finally drew to a close. Daoist boys walked up the blue stone steps like flowing water, and what they held in their hands was precisely the Thousand Mountain Red Lychees he had been longing for.
Wu Moxun instantly sat up straight, his gaze fixed on the Thousand Mountain Red Lychees as they were brought toward him, commanding impatiently: “Unseal the wine.”
The liquid poured smoothly into the wine cup, emanating a bright, soft, and beautiful luster. Wu Moxun peeled a red lychee and dropped it into the wine cup, then cautiously raised the wine glass, lightly sniffing that moving aroma under the moonlight.
He couldn’t help muttering to himself: “It wasn’t in vain for me to wait bitterly for five years. This truly is the world’s most…”
Before his words were finished, his shoulder was suddenly bumped by someone. The wine glass in Wu Moxun’s hand instantly spilled over, soaking the Daoist robe he was wearing.
He froze for a moment, and a low voice came to his ears.
“I am truly sorry.”
Seeing that he was soaked through with wine, Zishu Bai hurriedly apologized. There were truly too many people at the banquet; just now a small Daoist boy holding a fruit platter had rushed straight toward him in a hurry, and he had only bumped into the person beside him while dodging.
He subconsciously wanted to use a Cleansing Spell to help clean the other person’s clothes, only to see the man slowly turning his head to look at him, his face dark, gloomy, and sinister.
He looked so angry.
Zishu Bai felt even more apologetic in his heart, speaking softly: “I’m sorry, Senior Brother. I will compensate you with a new garment, or I can help you hand-wash it clean.”
Everyone around didn’t even dare to breathe heavily, holding their breath as they stared at them. Who didn’t know Wu Moxun’s temper? He was among the very top for being difficult and violent in the entire inner sect. This new little disciple was dead for sure!
Sure enough, Wu Moxun violently grabbed Zishu Bai by the collar, saying coldly: “Compensate? What are you going to compensate with?”
Before Zishu Bai could open his mouth, he heard the man laugh viciously: “Kneel down and lick my shoes clean, and I will forgive you. How about it?”
Hearing his words, Zishu Bai frowned, saying in a low voice: “Pardon me, but I cannot obey. I am human, and I have self-respect.”
Wu Moxun was almost angered to the point of laughing. Rising from his seat, he pulled out the long sword at his waist. “Good. Today I will teach you that trash has no self-respect.”
Zishu Bai pursed his lips tightly and could only draw his sword as well.
Not far away, a youth dressed in plain clothes pinched a Thousand Mountain Red Lychee from a porcelain plate. His fingertips lightly peeled it open, placing the snow-white flesh into his mouth.
A good show.
Truly a good show.
Jiang Xing leaned lazily against the railing, leisurely enjoying the restrained, enduring expression on Zishu Bai’s face. Taking out a gold bracelet from his robe, he tossed it to the small Daoist boy beside him, asking in a calm voice: “Has that old man nearby left?”
He couldn’t let that old Sect Master ruin this wonderful atmosphere.
“Thank you, Senior Brother! That old man has already been led away by me, so he definitely won’t mess up your business. Everything you asked me to do has been taken care of. Next time there’s easy work like this, come find me again!” The small Daoist boy pocketed the gold bracelet with a beaming smile.