Yin Mingjing’s throat tightened, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. He remembered now. Their master was cold, ruthless, and held grudges.
The King of Dayu and his daughter had stolen Yu Sang‑sang’s identity—if Sword Sovereign Qingyan could overlook that, then the world truly had gone mad. Hadn’t he even mentioned lightning striking the imperial palace, and Qingyan Sword Sovereign hadn’t said a word? Perhaps, in their master’s eyes, he was still considered soft‑hearted.
“There should be an invitation.”
This Immortal Shangyong of the Danxia Sect was an elder known for his wide network of goodwill. He was kind‑hearted, often lending a hand to struggling but gifted young cultivators. Many cultivators had benefited from his help. Thus, he held a position of considerable respect among the sects.
Danxia Sect and Lingxiao Sect had always maintained good relations—after all, who would be foolish enough to offend an alchemist? Yet, if one spoke of the closest ties, it was not Qingyan Sword Sovereign who frequently interacted with Danxia Sect.
Qingyan Sword Sovereign’s temperament clashed with everyone; he had no real friends. The one who maintained ties with Danxia Sect was instead Daoist Yushan, the head of Lingxiao Sect’s Alchemy Pavilion. The disciples of the Alchemy Pavilion specialized in refining pills, serving as the sect’s greatest source of spiritual medicine, and their status was unique. Unfortunately, though the Alchemy Pavilion belonged to the same sect, Qingyan Sword Sovereign was the fairest of men—he had no friends outside, and within the sect, he had no friends either. Only Yin Mingjing, with his cheerful nature, had managed to build rapport with the Alchemy Pavilion and exchange a few words with Daoist Yushan.
The invitation from Immortal Shangyong had been sent to the Alchemy Pavilion, addressed to Daoist Yushan.
Therefore, if they wished to go to Danxia Sect and expose the false girl who had stolen Yu Sang‑sang’s identity, thwarting their schemes once and for all, Yin Mingjing felt they must at least speak to Daoist Yushan first.
“If we’re going to Danxia Sect, I should accompany little junior sister,” Yin Mingjing said. He wasn’t afraid of much— Only that Qingyan Sword Sovereign might, with a single merciless strike, cut down the King of Dayu and his entourage. That in itself was no problem. But if it disrupted Immortal Shangyong’s birthday banquet, it would stir endless gossip and criticism against his master, which would be most unseemly.
Yu Sang‑sang’s eyes lit up. She could never forgive Xianzhu for stealing her identity. She wasn’t insisting that Immortal Shangyong acknowledge her, but she could not stand by and watch a counterfeit flaunt her mother’s name to deceive others.
The young girl quickly nodded.
Seeing that he had touched upon something she valued deeply, Sword Sovereign Qingyan slowly withdrew his gaze. He felt that this disciple was well worth taking in—she was no fool who forgave blindly.
“It so happens that little junior sister’s initiation is a joyous occasion. I’ll take her to the Alchemy Pavilion to pay respects to Elder Yushan, and we can speak of attending Immortal Shangyong’s birthday banquet together.”
Of course, there was no need to recount her pitiful past. Simply saying she wished to go and meet people would be enough; Daoist Yushan would hardly refuse.
Qingyan Sword Sovereign pondered for a moment, then rose. His handsome face was as cold as ice, yet he only said, “I will personally take her.”
Since his disciple’s matter required Daoist Yushan’s assistance, it was only proper that he go himself. Moreover, Yu Sang‑sang had just been accepted as his disciple today. If he were to leave her in the hands of others right away, people might look down on her. Having endured the warmth and chill of human affairs, Sword Sovereign Qingyan knew all too well what others thought in their hearts. Yin Mingjing naturally agreed this was best. Though Qingyan Sword Sovereign and Daoist Yushan had little contact beyond being fellow sect members, they were still of the same sect, and that counted for something.
He glanced at the sky, seeing the sun sinking low—it was nearly time for the evening meal. A thought struck him, and his expression shifted slightly as he advised, “We should wait until after supper before going to the Alchemy Pavilion.”
The words sounded rather odd.
Yu Sang‑sang, unfamiliar with the habits of the sect’s elders, asked curiously, “Why after supper?”
“At this hour, Elder Yushan is busy.” Yin Mingjing thought of Daoist Yushan’s hobby, instinctively clutching his stomach with sympathy, and cautioned his innocent junior sister: “Sang‑sang, remember this well—if you wish to pay respects to Elder Yushan, always avoid mealtimes. The elder is very fond of cooking.”
Lingxiao Sect was a strange place indeed. It had aloof sword cultivators as cold as glaciers, fox spirits who disdained to charm the masses… and alchemists who believed they had been delayed from their true calling as chefs.
Daoist Yushan had always believed his talent and achievements in cooking far surpassed his skills in alchemy. He spent his days buried in work at the sect’s dining hall. Busy he was, but the dishes he produced were hardly suited to the taste of ordinary mortals.
“Then just don’t eat them.”
“How could that be?” In the Lingxiao Sect, low‑level disciples who had not yet learned to live without food were required to eat in the dining hall. Even those who had already transcended the need for food still frequented the Alchemy Pavilion, for it was rich in spiritual pills. If one simply pinched their nose, ate more of Daoist Yushan’s cooking, and offered a few flattering words, the elder—generous as ever—would surely gift them many spirit pills. So, for the sake of those pills, disciples forced themselves to shed tears while declaring, “This meal is delicious.”
Because of these insincere praises, Daoist Yushan walked further and further down the road of cooking, a path of no return.
Back then, Yin Mingjing had been curious and tried the food a few times. In a daze, he thought he saw his long‑departed grandfather.
“Ah!” Since the story she had read before did not center on Lingxiao Sect, Yu Sang‑sang only knew of Qingyan Sword Sovereign’s lineage. She had never once heard mention of Daoist Yushan. Yet even without meeting him, she couldn’t help but feel a trace of sympathy and understanding. She whispered to Yin Mingjing, “Elder Yushan must be a very skilled alchemist, right?”
For his cooking to taste so dreadful and still win flattery, it could only mean his spirit pills were truly exceptional.
Yin Mingjing praised his little junior sister’s cleverness.
“So, what kind of food does he actually make?”
Humans are, after all, a curious species.
Even with Yin Mingjing’s cautionary tales, Yu Sang‑sang couldn’t help but feel especially curious.
Seeing her look just as innocent as he himself had once been, Yin Mingjing thought for a moment, then decided to take her to try it—let her experience a little disillusionment in life.
Thus, when the disciples of Lingxiao Sect, already turning green from their meals, saw the fearsome Qingyan Sword Sovereign arrive at the dining hall, they scrambled away, clutching their spirit pills as they fled.
Yu Sang‑sang saw that in the suddenly empty hall stood a huge iron tray. On it lay blackened lumps of something fried in oil, filling the hall with a stench so overpowering it made her head spin.
Yin Mingjing barely managed to hold back from vomiting in that foul odor.
Beside the table stood a Daoist.
Yu Sang‑sang saw that he was plump, his round face shining with grease—no doubt pleased by the praise he had received for his cooking. When he noticed Qingyan Sword Sovereign and his two disciples, he froze for a moment, then gave a slight nod, his gaze settling on the unfamiliar Yu Sang‑sang.
“This is my disciple, Yu Sang‑sang,” Qingyan Sword Sovereign instructed her to pay respects, saying, “This is Elder Yushan, head of the Alchemy Pavilion.”
For him to take a disciple was already rare; rarer still was that he would personally bring her to meet others.
The Daoist, dressed in a robe spattered with oil stains, looked momentarily stunned. Though his relationship with Qingyan Sword Sovereign was ordinary, they were still of the same sect, both elders of Lingxiao Sect who had once stood shoulder to shoulder in service to the sect. His face broke into a smile as he beckoned Yu Sang‑sang. “A bright and spirited child. Oh? Already at Foundation Establishment?” At such a young age, that was indeed remarkable talent—no wonder Qingyan Sword Sovereign had accepted her.
He was a genial man. Yu Sang‑sang bowed respectfully: “I greet Elder.”
Yin Mingjing had already explained on the way.
Daoist Yushan, like Qingyan Sword Sovereign, was of the Immortal rank. Though he looked cheerful, harmless, and like a cook lost in his own world, he was in fact highly skilled in combat. And because he was always urging others to eat within the sect, he was actually more feared than Qingyan Sword Sovereign.
After all, Qingyan Sword Sovereign, however terrifying, never tormented his own disciples. But Daoist Yushan truly did make people force themselves to eat his cooking!
He himself, however, was all smiles. Seeing Yu Sang‑sang bow in greeting, he immediately pulled out several large bottles of spirit pills and handed them to her, saying warmly, “If you ever need pills in the future, just come to the Alchemy Pavilion. You’re a bit thin… eat more food, won’t you?”
The young girl was delicate, frail, almost pitiable—she looked as though she never had enough to eat.
Daoist Yushan, sympathetic!
He lifted the iron tray and offered it to Yu Sang‑sang, his gaze full of kindness. “Fresh from the pan—eat plenty! Ah, if I’d known you were coming today, I would have made more good dishes to treat you, at least enough meat for you to enjoy!”
Yu Sang‑sang first examined the spirit pills. She saw that they weren’t only cultivation pills but also antidote pills and others—a complete assortment. She thanked him and tucked them away, then noticed the food’s familiar smell. Looking closely— Oh! It was stinky tofu on an iron plate!
She hadn’t expected to see such a familiar dish even after crossing into the cultivation world. At once, her mouth watered. After eating bland cabbage and tofu every day in the imperial tomb, she had longed for strong flavors.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Elder. Then I won’t be polite.” Feeling a warm sense of familiarity, she tried a bite—and sure enough, it tasted exactly like the stinky tofu she used to eat.
Though she had no idea how Daoist Yushan had managed to invent such a dish here, it was delicious. The girl picked up the bamboo chopsticks and ate heartily, without the slightest restraint.
Sword Sovereign Qingyan, caught off guard by how fiercely she ate, curled his fingers slightly but did not stop her. It didn’t look like flattery—she truly loved it.
Daoist Yushan’s gaze grew even more affectionate.
“Yes, that’s the flavor—so good, pungent yet fragrant.” As Yu Sang‑sang ate, she suddenly felt a fine warmth rise from her stomach, flow through her meridians, and leave her whole body feeling cozy. She paused, sensing carefully. Though subtle, she could indeed feel her meridians nourished.
Daoist Yushan beamed. “Sang‑sang has taste.” He clearly could tell who was forcing themselves and who genuinely enjoyed his food. Smiling, he took back the emptied tray. “This was all made with fine ingredients.”
Yu Sang‑sang agreed—it truly was made with good materials. Since Daoist Yushan was so skilled at cooking, she thought she might share some dishes with him—like *molded tofu*, or even the famous “Stargazy Pie”…
“Today, I have another matter to trouble Elder with.”
“What is it?” Daoist Yushan, pleased to have found a disciple who sincerely liked his cooking and even spoke of new, curious dishes, asked Yin Mingjing kindly.
“It concerns Shangyong’s birthday,” Sword Sovereign Qingyan said. “I intend to take Sang‑sang to deal with some people.”
That clearly meant stirring trouble. Daoist Yushan thought for a moment, then asked, “With that old fellow Shangyong…?”
“Not to seek revenge on him.”
“Then that’s fine.” As long as it wasn’t to cause trouble for Shangyong Zhenren himself, who cared if someone else at the banquet suffered? Daoist Yushan nodded. “Then come with me.”
“My thanks,” said Sword Sovereign Qingyan.
Daoist Yushan, who hadn’t minded much at first, suddenly froze at those words. He looked carefully at the handsome yet icy man before him.
Was he thanking him? Had the sun risen in the west today?