Wen Chaoxi’s arm trembled slightly, and his lips pressed tighter and tighter together.
A moment later, the intimate atmosphere in the room faded, and Wen Chaoxi’s breathing gradually calmed.
He had repeatedly assured Xu Chaoqi that he would not do this again, and only then did Xu Chaoqi put away his suspicious gaze.
After the two of them finished breakfast, they rode the clouds toward the Southern Competition Immortal Platform.
The southern region was a place of slight coolness, with sea breezes blowing through from time to time, the air carrying droplets of moisture.
Today, though the disciples at the Southern Competition Immortal Platform were crowded together, it wasn’t stifling. Song Shuiqing sat below the platform with his fellow senior and junior disciples. When he arrived, the sky was still pitch black, dotted with stars, and most of the disciples had already gathered.
Thinking that the grand competition would soon begin, he gazed up at the clouds above, full of anticipation.
The clouds were where the mighty experts watched the proceedings; every thick cloud had tables and chairs arranged upon it. The experts only had to lower their heads to see the dueling platform clearly. The higher the cloud, the higher the cultivation and status of the expert seated upon it.
He looked toward the westernmost cloud—the highest one he could see—knowing that was where his father sat.
Who would have thought, though he and the Western Region Lord had risen at the same time, and he himself had arrived by the hour of Mao (5-7 AM), there were hardly any mighty experts among the clouds in the sky. It was not until the sky gradually brightened that some of the minor sect masters and clan leaders of the Twenty-Seven Regions arrived, dressed neatly, unhurried, chatting and laughing with those beside them.
Song Shuiqing had long since grown numb with waiting, and the other disciples were just as worn down—it was like this every time, with the disciples made to arrive a full two hours earlier than everyone else. Fortunately, cultivation was itself a practice of temperament, and over time the disciples had grown used to it and thought nothing more of it.
However, those minor sect masters and clan leaders could only barely be said to have arrived early enough to sit among the clouds. Afterward, like the disciples, they too waited patiently for half an hour before the higher-ranked mighty experts began to appear one after another.
These minor sect masters and clan leaders indeed had far better temperaments than the young disciples below—no matter how long they waited, their eyes always held a trace of a smile, as if waiting were the smallest, most trivial matter imaginable. They were respectful and courteous to everyone; whenever someone came to greet them, they returned the courtesy in kind.
Below, the disciples murmured amongst themselves. “See that? This is why they get to sit on the clouds while we’re stuck down here.”
The person beside them suddenly understood. “What’s being waited on here isn’t rank—it’s social maneuvering!”
Indeed, there was a pattern to it. The earlier a person arrived among the clouds, the less prominent their sect. The later a person arrived, the higher their standing among the Twenty-Seven Regions, and the more deference those around them showed. By the end, the clouds grew ever noisier, and if one listened closely, it was nothing but flattery and ingratiating talk.
The Western Region Lord arrived together with the leaders of the other two great regions—they were among the very last to come.
The four of them first exchanged a round of mutual flattery, after which the Eastern Region Lord looked toward the Western Region Lord and said, “I’ve heard your son has also entered the grand competition?”
Upon hearing this, the Western Region Lord thought to himself, here it comes. On the surface, he feigned an air of shame and sighed.
“That child—I too am quite at a loss over him. Our Western Region does have several allotted spots, but this son of mine is so stubborn! He said that since he’d already joined Yingtian Sect, he shouldn’t occupy a Western Region spot any longer, and insisted on competing purely on his own merit. You know he’s been muddling about for so many years now—how could he possibly compete his way in on such short notice?
Who would have guessed, he actually went without rest, day and night, studying and training relentlessly—I couldn’t stop him even if I tried. And sure enough, coming to it halfway through life, he simply couldn’t match those with a solid foundation built up since childhood! He spent over ten days at it, and out of a hundred spots, he came in at one hundred and one—I suppose that result was to be expected of him! He was already so far behind, how could he possibly catch up? It’s just that the child insisted on proving himself, saying that even without placing, he mustn’t shame the fighting spirit of our Song family’s blood.
There was nothing to be done—seeing how hard he’d fought for once, and with him begging me so earnestly, I finally swallowed my pride and pulled some strings for him just this once.”
As he spoke, he waved his sleeve to cover his face, as if this son of his were something too shameful to be seen.
The leader of the Northern Region glanced sideways, his face full of astonishment. Since when did he not know this foolish nephew had “fighting spirit”? Wasn’t he just foolishly making friends with bad influences and getting swindled by people?
The Eastern Region Lord’s mouth twitched, smiling without any real warmth in it. “Your son certainly has promise, then.”
The Western Region Lord gave a snorting laugh in response.
The three of them soon each turned and made their way up toward the clouds.
The Eastern Region Lord, his back turned, wore an unpleasant expression; he flung his wide sleeve forcefully and strode ahead with large steps. His attendant followed with lowered head just behind his left shoulder.
The Eastern Region Lord sneered coldly. “What nonsense! Mocking who, exactly? Sure, my son used an Eastern Region spot, but he still has more promise than that talisman-scribbling brat of his! My son cultivates the martial path, the Thirty-Six Ways—not flashy, perhaps, but he’s placed in the top ten at every Centennial Grand Disciple Competition! And that other one? I won’t even bother cursing him, hmph!”
With that, he flung his sleeve and stepped up onto the clouds.
After all this commotion had settled, it was already the hour of Si (9 AM). The disciples below had long grown restless, and even some of the minor sect masters and clan leaders could no longer contain themselves, gathering together to murmur quietly amongst themselves.
Several minor sect masters looked toward the Peak Master of Yingtian Sect who was accompanying them nearby and said humbly, “It is already the hour of Si.”
He tilted his head up to look at the clouds above. “I see that Sect Senior Fu and the six Region Lords of the East, West, North, Upper, Central, and Lower have all arrived, yet the grand competition still shows no sign of beginning. I myself have attended four or five Centennial Grand Competitions, and it has never been this late before.”
Seeing someone ask, the Peak Master smiled pleasantly. “I wouldn’t say it’s late—if anything, it’s still quite early.”
There was a deeper meaning hidden in the Peak Lord’s smile, and the minor sect master was no fool—he immediately grasped at something, hesitated slightly, but did not forget to offer his thanks.
After the minor sect master withdrew, he thought to himself: the later one arrives, the more extraordinary one must be. If there were still some great figure yet to come, then waiting was only natural.
Only… with several of the great Region Lords already here, who else could possibly be important enough to keep the great Region Lords waiting?
The more he thought about it, the further his mind wandered, and when his train of thought reached its peak, a certain figure surfaced in his mind—one he had only ever heard of in rumors.
He was instantly struck with shock, the teacup in his hand nearly slipping from his grasp, and for a moment he even forgot to breathe.
Just as his thoughts were spiraling outward, bursts of astonished exclamations rang out all around him, each person’s cup clattering down faster than the last!
The minor sect master’s heart suddenly leapt; he stiffly lifted his head, and saw a swath of five-colored auspicious clouds appearing at the edge of the sky.
Auspicious clouds were common enough, yet this one was unmistakably different at a single glance—a vast, mighty pressure descended from the heavens, an unprecedented sense of oppression and majestic spiritual energy that made hearts tremble.
Just from a single swath of auspicious clouds, everyone present had already guessed who was upon it!
Some of the minor sect masters found it hard to believe—after all, only a handful of people knew of this matter, and they themselves had even fewer connections among the mighty experts. From start to finish, aside from traveling vast distances to escort their disciples to the southern region, they had essentially never left their own courtyards.
As the pressure descended, the cultivation of quite a few minor sect masters, long stagnant, showed signs of loosening.
Their hearts raced; at this moment they felt boundlessly fortunate to have come, for otherwise they would never have known what great fortune and broadened horizons they might have missed.
As for the disciples below the platform, they had long since gone slack-jawed with shock.
Earlier they had still been complaining about why the grand competition was starting so late. And the result? The result??
Why had the Sect Master come?!
The disciples below were nearly driven mad—the Sect Master was a figure of legend! All Twenty-Seven Regions knew that the Sect Master was the strongest, strong to the point of being on an entirely different level, and every disciple of Yingtian Sect took pride in their Sect Master.
But it was said the Sect Master had not descended the mountain in nearly a thousand years; many disciples, let alone being a thousand years old themselves, were perhaps only around a hundred. Given this gap in time, many disciples had even come to believe the Sect Master was merely a fabricated legend.
The disciples stood in a daze, countless numbers of them rubbing their eyes right then and there.
Forget complaining—even if they were made to wait another two hours… no, two days… two months! As long as they could see the Sect Master, they would have no regrets at all.
Quite a few disciples even secretly tried using their memory-recording stones, but no matter what, the five-colored auspicious clouds simply could not be recorded.
Song Shuiqing tried recording several times as well, thinking he would show Brother Qi later, but no matter what he did, it wouldn’t record.
This was also the first time he had ever laid eyes on the presence of Sect Master Wen, and he was so overwhelmed with excitement that he could barely contain himself, his face flushed red.
He fumbled clumsily with his voice-transmission stone and whispered, “Brother Qi! Brother Qi! Have you arrived yet?”
At that moment, within the auspicious clouds, Xu Chaoqi picked up the voice-transmission stone at his waist and said, “I just woke up not long ago, I’ll be there soon.”
He could hear the excitement in Song Shuiqing’s voice and asked with concern, “What’s wrong? Has something major happened?”
Song Shuiqing slapped his thigh: “It’s huge! It’s an enormous deal!”
“Huh?” Upon hearing this, Xu Chaoqi’s eyes lit up—he too was someone who loved excitement, so he hurriedly pressed on. “What is it, tell me quickly, let me hear it!”
Song Shuiqing looked at the auspicious clouds slowly rising higher and said urgently, “No time to explain it all, just hurry up and get here faster!”
“Huh? What’s going on?” He glanced at his senior brother, meaning to urge him to hurry, but then Song Shuiqing continued.
“Brother Qi! Hurry! Otherwise you’ll be too late—that great figure, the legendary Sect Master Wen has appeared! Hurry, you’re about to miss seeing him!”
Xu Chaoqi: …
Wen Chaoxi glanced back at Xu Chaoqi, then at the voice-transmission stone in his hand, and let out a low laugh.
Wen Chaoxi shook his head and walked forward a few steps, leaving Xu Chaoqi some space to speak alone.
Xu Chaoqi was silent for a moment, then caught up and grabbed hold of his senior’s sleeve, speaking into the spirit stone. “Mm… it’s fine, I can see him.”
Hearing this, the heart Song Shuiqing had been holding up high finally settled back down. He glanced at his own position—right in the very center of the viewing platform.
He called out again, “Brother Qi, come over here to me, it’s close here, you can see clearly! We’re right next to the sword cultivators!”
Xu Chaoqi fell silent for a moment, then coughed. “It’s quite close here too, I can see clearly.”
Song Shuiqing let out a breath of relief, then said, “So did you sense anything just now? Has your cultivation advanced at all?”
“What advancement?” Xu Chaoqi was puzzled, and curious just what kind of advancement was meant.
Song Shuiqing explained, “Sect Master Wen has arrived, and when he came, all of us could feel his presence. Under that kind of pressure on our cultivation realms, we had sudden enlightenments, and even our bottlenecks loosened a bit.”
The more Xu Chaoqi listened, the brighter the light in his eyes grew. He glanced at his senior brother suspiciously and said hesitantly, “Why do I feel like the effect wasn’t very strong?”
Song Shuiqing faltered. “Perhaps… you’re just not close enough yet? Brother Qi, could it be you didn’t sense it at all?”
Though Xu Chaoqi felt this was rather unlikely, he still went through the motions of wrapping his arms around his senior brother from behind. His tall frame required some effort to manage before he could rest his chin on his senior’s shoulder, his arms encircling his senior’s waist.
The scent of sandalwood enveloped the two of them, and Xu Chaoqi said with difficulty, “I’ve already done everything I can to get closer to the Sect Master…”
Upon hearing the distant, formal title “Sect Master,” Wen Chaoxi raised his hand and flicked Xu Chaoqi’s forehead.
Xu Chaoqi hissed and clutched his head. “Already as close as I possibly can be, and still it’s no use.”
Song Shuiqing: “You really don’t feel the presence at all?”
Xu Chaoqi: “There’s a scent. No presence.”
Song Shuiqing: “Huh?”
He was left slightly dazed, and not long after, the voice-transmission stone went silent.
Wen Chaoxi reached back through his sleeve and took hold of the arms of the person behind him, lowering his head helplessly and saying softly, “Had enough fun?”
Xu Chaoqi’s eyes curved into a smile, and he let go of his hold.