This boy was truly naturally gifted.
Lan Que was rarely summoned to the Sect Leader’s sleeping quarters and had assumed something major had happened. Upon arrival, he found Jueya there as well.
The Sect Leader, whom he had not seen in a long time, was deathly pale. It seemed he had suffered greatly from this failed ascension attempt. Lan Que wondered if Jueya’s nagging about marriage had finally pushed the Sect Leader to the point of locking all the elders up.
Within the Qingheng Sect, there were countless peaks. The Sect Leader, Wenren Qi, resided on the highest one. The palace there was covered in snow year-round. Even though the elders possessed decent cultivation, they did not enjoy staying there for long. After the apes had been sent away, the place had become even colder and more silent, as if time itself stood still.
Wenren Qi’s long hair draped over his shoulders. He was twirling a feather between his fingers and had invited Lan Que to identify it, yet he was stingy about handing it over. The beautiful feather floated in the air, making it difficult to see clearly.
“I cannot see it like this. Can you not let me hold it?”
Lan Que was Jueya’s junior brother. By seniority, he was also considered Wenren Qi’s elder. Unlike his senior brother, who indulged in alcohol year-round and had loose skin he could not be bothered to maintain, Lan Que was different. Perhaps because he loved birdwatching so much, his skin was darkened by years of exposure to the sun and wind. It was said that his left eye had been pecked out by a bird and could not be cured even by miraculous elixirs, so he wore a prosthetic eye.
“No,” Wenren Qi replied.
His reputation preceded him; everyone around him knew he had a stubborn and foul temper. The fact that the previous Sect Leader had died so peacefully was likely due, in part, to being constantly infuriated by his son. Anyone else would have thought the Sect Leader was putting on airs or making things difficult for his elder. However, Lan Que and Jueya had watched Wenren Qi grow up. They knew that if this man was acting so strangely, there had to be a reason.
The one-eyed old cultivator glanced at his senior brother. The old man with the goatee shrugged and shook his head, signaling him not to ask. Lan Que had no choice but to stare intently at the feather floating before him. After identifying it for a moment, Lan Que’s voice grew excited.
“It looks like the tail feather of a Fairy Pitta.”
He looked toward the cultivator with loose hair sitting nearby. “Sect Leader, where did you find this? Fairy Pittas are rare to begin with. Years ago, when I sneaked into the Demon Capital, I never even saw a Fairy Pitta that had achieved cultivation. I thought they were extinct.”
Wenren Qi recalled the image of that little demon sobbing and frowned. “The heavenly lightning struck it right in front of my eyes.”
“How could that be!” Lan Que was heartbroken. “Then where is the body? This little bird’s luck is too rotten. How did it happen to run right into your Ascension Tribulation?”
Jueya suddenly coughed, prompting Lan Que to change his tune and explain awkwardly, “What I meant was that the commotion this time was too great.”
Lan Que was a bird fanatic. In his youth, he had been unproductive, relying entirely on his natural talent to cultivate. Whenever he had free time, he would wander about watching birds. Once, in the middle of a bloody battle, he was so distracted by a spectating bird that he simply admitted defeat. With such a temperament, he could never be Sect Leader. His fellow disciple, Jueya, was a hopeless alcoholic and equally unreliable. Thus, the position of Sect Leader had fallen to Wenren Qi’s father.
The old Sect Leader had not necessarily insisted on passing the sect to his biological son. He and his wife had three children. The eldest, Wenren Cheng, was gentle and sophisticated, enjoying social connections. The problem was that he enjoyed connecting with people a bit too much, specifically, a formidable demon. The youngest daughter, Wenren Jin’an, had been sickly since the womb and rarely left the sect. She loved ordering her elder brothers to buy her storybooks. She went down the mountain only once in her life and never returned home.
Of the three children, only the one with the strangest personality remained. Though Wenren Qi was a heavenly genius, he was clueless regarding worldly affairs and had zero interest in romance. It was nearly impossible to force him into anything he did not want to do. Yet, if Wenren Qi did not succeed as Sect Leader, the sect would face a generational gap.
The old Sect Leader thought that since Wenren Qi did not want the job, he should marry early and have a child so there would be someone to do the work. Little did he expect that on his deathbed, he would be so enraged by his son that his beard would stand on end, nearly dying with his eyes wide open in frustration.
“Are you sure this is a Fairy Pitta?” Wenren Qi twirled the feather. In his memory, that body had feathers faintly shimmering with light on the waist and abdomen during moments of passion. When the body tightened, they became even more elusive. He brushed away those indecorous images. He still could not recall the other person’s face clearly, feeling as though he had seen it before, yet he was not certain.
His soul had been severely wounded. At the time, the situation was urgent, with new injuries mixed with old, and he had succumbed to a state of Qi Deviation where he could only act on instinct. That little demon, caught in its heat, had been as passionate as fire. It had loved being on top, but when he actually let it sit there, it was all wobbly and cried even louder.
For years, Wenren Qi had remained behind closed doors. Even for the sect’s centennial celebration, his absence was routine, with his head disciple, Lu Jijun, usually presiding. Barring any accidents, the next Sect Leader would be this head disciple.
Lan Que nodded. “A rare bird like this is something I have flipped through ancient texts countless times hoping to see. What a pity.” Mentioning birds made the usually quiet elder talkative. “Once I met a mouse demon who could speak. He said that in the dense forest a hundred miles from our sect, he had seen traces of a Fairy Pitta. That little bird likes—”
“What color are this bird’s eyes?” Wenren Qi asked suddenly.
“Mostly brown.”
“Not green?”
“Sect Leader, you must be joking. I am an expert when it comes to birdwatching,” Lan Que said with full confidence. “If you do not believe me, I can lend you my field notes from over the years.”
Wenren Qi did not remember the demon’s appearance, only those tearful eyes, filled with words left unsaid. But was that little demon blameless? The demon was the one in heat; Wenren Qi had not taken advantage of it. A demon’s heart was also hard to read. One moment it was saying no and wanting to leave, the next it was saying it was not enough. So, Wenren Qi had not let it go. He had taken it every which way and bitten it all over.
Wenren Qi reflected for a long time, convinced that the fault lay with the demon. The cultivator sitting behind layers of curtains remained silent. For some reason, Lan Que recalled Wenren Qi in his youth. He had been more lively then, pretending to be tough and quite fun. Back then, Wenren Cheng was still alive, and Wenren Jin’an would torment her brothers all day to buy this or that. The disciples of the Qingheng Sect were not as numerous as they were now.
No one expected that the one to eventually succeed as Sect Leader would be Wenren Qi. The child who wanted to leave home most was trapped within the mountain gates, while the most well-mannered child had rebelled and died for love with a demon.
“Sect Leader?” Lan Que was not sure what it meant that he had been called to identify a feather. It could not be that he wanted to keep a bird. Even the immortal cranes would not stay on this peak because of the cold. What bird would want to live in this frozen wasteland?
Wenren Qi shook his head. “It is nothing. Thank you, Elder.”
A Fairy Pitta, he thought. Even if a powerful bird demon emerged from the Demon Race, it would not be such a small bird. They were incredibly weak, could not fly far, and were not fast. Most struggled to cultivate a human form even after gaining intelligence. Usually, one strike of heavenly lightning would kill them instantly. What was the purpose of this demon infiltrating the sect?
“Let us go,” Jueya led Lan Que away. “Looking at his dazed state, his soul must have been damaged by the lightning, leading to Qi Deviation. Fortunately, it is nothing serious; otherwise, we would have a headache for a long time.”
Jueya still smelled of alcohol. As Lan Que followed him out of the main hall, he asked curiously, “What is different this time? Has Wenren Qi really failed his once-in-a-century ascension? Is he stuck until the end of his lifespan?”
“Do you think this kind of Ascension Tribulation is easy to survive? You and I would have been gone long ago.” Jueya sighed. “This time might have been more dangerous than usual. You did not see it, but when he returned, his face, shoulders, and back were covered in scratches. It is truly baffling. Can heavenly lightning scratch people now?”
The more Lan Que heard the description, the stranger his expression became. He called out to his senior brother, “The way you describe it sounds more like Wenren Qi went off to have a roll in the hay with someone.”
Jueya’s beard twitched. He waved his hand. “Listen to yourself. Is that even possible?”
Thousands of years ago, it was the trend for cultivators to sever all emotions and desires. Even so, no one had ascended that way. Instead, there were great masters who experienced the rise and fall of their families over a hundred generations and achieved enlightenment and ascension at the end of their lives. Only then did the major sects lift the restrictions. The results were surprisingly good, proving that healthy relationships were conducive to increasing one’s cultivation. Cultivating the Dao was, in the end, about cultivating one’s relationship with everything. Even the tension with the He Huan Sect had lessened.
“True, for anyone else, it is a possibility.” Lan Que was filled with emotion. “But if it is Wenren Qi, the sky would have to fall before he would be with anyone.”
Jueya thought of the previous Sect Leader’s final words and felt his headache worsen. “I need to go get a drink. If he is like this, how can I face my senior brother after I die?”
“It is not your responsibility,” Lan Que said, having also watched Wenren Qi grow up. “He has probably seen too much of our joys and sorrows. Even if one marries, they are separated by lifespan. Long life is not necessarily a good thing. After three generations, past events are like smoke.”
“Perhaps Wenren Qi sees things too clearly.”
“I think he is like this because he cannot see through it. With a personality like his, if he truly meets someone, I am afraid it will be earth-shattering.”
“Then I look forward to it.” Lan Que laughed. “It has been many years since there has been such excitement to watch.”
Jueya shook his head. “I fear him falling in heart, and I fear him not. He is not a child anymore, yet he will not listen to the arrangements of us old folk.”
“I asked him what kind he likes, and he said he would not like anyone. Where am I supposed to find someone like that?”
“There are too many good-looking disciples in the sect, and Wenren Qi’s own appearance is top-tier, so it is natural his standards are high.” Lan Que was still thinking about that feather. “Speaking of appearance, I have not seen the closed-door disciple in years. When I saw him just now, that child has become even more beautiful.”
“You mean the kid at the mountain gate?” At the mention of Cen Moyu, Jueya beamed. “A good child, just too lazy. The sect is surrounded by pure Qi, yet he does not take the chance to cultivate. It has been nearly a hundred years, and all he knows is how to play instruments and sing.”
Mentioning Cen Moyu, Jueya suddenly remembered the day they welcomed the disciples back. Wenren Qi had been dragged out by him and heard a tune played by Cen Moyu. A spark of realization hit Jueya, and he asked Lan Que, “Did you just come up the mountain?”
Lan Que nodded. Jueya asked, “Then did you see Little Cen?”
“I saw that he was feeling unwell just now and sent him to rest.” When new disciples were recruited years ago, Jueya had gone down the mountain in Lan Que’s stead. With recruitment season approaching again, Lan Que seemed to find a flaw in Cen Moyu’s sickly and sluggish appearance. “It seems we need to recruit two more closed-door disciples. Old Wang drinks all year round and, like you, cannot handle much.”
“Sick? That is rare. I see that boy sitting at the mountain gate every day without fail, even though his aptitude is mediocre. People down the mountain say the Qingheng mountain gate is hard to pass because it is a Beauty’s Pass.”
“Beauty’s Pass, that is not wrong.”
Cen Moyu fell asleep while bathing. If the system had not woken him up, he might have drowned. He had slept, but he still felt unwell. There was a fire in his abdomen, though it did not feel like a stomachache.
“System, am I dying?” Cen Moyu had grown up in a snowy country and was not afraid of the cold. He rarely got sick, but when he did, it hit him hard. “That would be so embarrassing, being killed in bed by the protagonist.”
System: “You will not die.”
Cen Moyu sensed its hesitation and felt like crying. “You are lying to me, are you not?”
“I did not complete the mission. Will I be like those novels say? Will my personality be erased, and I will vanish into thin air?”
System: “No.”
Perhaps because he was too weak, the ball of fire in his abdomen felt like it was about to incinerate him. Even though he tried his best to forget, his invaded body seemed to remember a certain sensation. He placed his palm over his abdomen, and in an instant, he was back to being held tight by the protagonist, unable to escape the lashing. To think that after such painful intimacy, he actually felt it was not bad. It was all that person’s fault.
“I do not want to die yet. I want to go back. I wanted to start over.” He curled up under the covers, sobbing intermittently, occasionally blabbering words the system could not understand.
It possessed the past memories of its host, Cen Moyu, but it was a world entirely from the other’s perspective. Whether it was the dynamics of the protagonists or Cen Moyu’s romantic past, including the ex-boyfriend who had swindled him of all his savings, it knew all.
The divine artifact was real. Within the system’s limited knowledge since its birth, the Qingheng Sect’s secret treasure might be on Wenren Qi’s person. That was not important now. What was important was that it did not know how to alleviate Cen Moyu’s current pain.
The body of a Fairy Pitta demon struck by heavenly lightning, combined with a soul from a foreign world, there were bound to be many complications. The system scanned the host’s body and was shocked to discover that under the brocade quilt, Cen Moyu had turned into a little bird. Tucked under vibrant, soft feathers, in a bizarre physiological twist, this male bird’s body had produced an egg that only a female bird should have.
Even the system could not help but be stunned, thinking that this boy was truly naturally gifted.
Inside the highest sleeping quarters of the Qingheng Sect, behind layers of gauze curtains, Wenren Qi sat by the pool. He stared at the feather soaked by spring water, attempting to sense the location of its owner through its aura. Soon, he spat out a mouthful of blood.
Having failed his ascension several times, the heavenly lightning had nearly crushed his internal organs. In a century-long cycle, he had barely recovered only to be shattered again. Under the intense pressure, he discovered that a sliver of his soul was missing, and he had no idea where it had gone. It could not have been used by himself.
He frowned deeply, wanting to investigate the whereabouts of the sect’s guardian artifact, but his cultivation had not yet recovered. Even with the Sect Leader’s seal, it was difficult to enter. No one but himself could open the grand array that required a soul to activate.
Unless this was not the first time.