Xu Chaoqi walked out from the auspicious clouds, and beneath his feet stopped a patch of soft, snow-white cloud.
He lifted his trouser legs and stepped onto the cloud, which sank gently under his weight. White mist covered his feet and climbed up along his trouser legs. In no time, everything before his eyes was pure frost.
Wind slipped in through the gaps in the clouds, blowing his loose strands of hair, and the sound of wind filled his ears.
He looked down at his own magnificent robe and thought for a moment, then took out his black disciple’s robe from his storage pouch.
Just now, on the heavenly ladder, quite a few people had seen him. Though he wasn’t afraid of being recognized, he didn’t want to draw too much attention either.
As his sash was undone, the surrounding clouds and mist seemed to freeze for a moment. Xu Chaoqi raised his head—he felt the wind had stopped, the gaps around him seemed to have been sealed tight, as if he were inside an enclosed barrier.
The air felt somewhat stuffy and hot, and he quickly finished changing his clothes. A wisp of cloud mist reached out, smoothing the wrinkles for him, and tightened his sash a little.
Xu Chaoqi’s face grew slightly damp with sweat from the heat. The cloud mist gently brushed across his forehead, smoothing his sideburns for him, and folding his collar neatly.
Xu Chaoqi stood upright as a pine or cypress tree. There was clearly nothing in front of him. But in the scorching air, it was as if a steady, composed man stood before him, bending down to straighten his robe and cap.
By the time his clothes were completely arranged, the cloud mist also dispersed, and Xu Chaoqi’s face had grown a little hot from the stuffiness.
Everything around him was taken in at the edge of his vision—the noise of the crowd, cheers, the clamor. The dueling platform that had once appeared in the light screen now also stood not far away.
He covered his slightly tight collar and coughed a few times. The cloud mist carrying him also completely dissipated, and he stood on the ground—this was exactly the Southern Competition Immortal Platform.
His Senior Brother had thought of everything—the moment he looked up, he saw the banner of the Way of Talisman.
At this moment, the elder of Fumo Mountain stood at the entrance, gazing toward the dueling platform with his brows tightly knit.
Seeing that another disciple had been knocked down, his eyelid gave a violent twitch, and a breath caught in his chest, unable to go up or down. In the end he could only force it down, nearly choking on his own blood in the process.
He didn’t even ask for the Way of Talisman disciples to win—at the very least, he hoped each of them could stand on the platform a little longer. Even if they lost, he didn’t want them to lose so cleanly, so completely.
He had been standing for too long, and his head grew a little dizzy, so he pressed a hand to his chest and sat down, leaning on a stone stool.
At the edge of his vision, a young man walked into Fumo Mountain’s territory, looking left and right as if searching for something.
He furrowed his brow and waved at the young man. “Which mountain are you from, boy?”
The moment Xu Chaoqi saw the elder in front of him, his brow immediately relaxed, and he stepped forward respectfully. “Greetings, Elder. This one is Xu Chengyao, currently registered under Fumo Mountain, participating in the Grand Competition together with the disciples of Fumo Mountain.”
“Xu” (徐) sounded the same as “Xu” (胥). He had asked his Senior Brother—”Cheng” was the generational character for this generation of disciples, and “Yao” was his childhood nickname.
(TL: “Xu” (胥) as in Xu Chaoqi)
His second character was “Chao.” If he spoke it aloud, everyone would probably know he was the Sect Leader’s junior martial brother. Then there’d be no need to even compete—everyone would just let him win.
“Xu… Cheng… Yao…” The elder repeated the name, raising an eyebrow at Xu Chaoqi.
“You certainly know how to pick a name.”
Xu Chaoqi: …
The elder had met every single Way of Talisman disciple participating in the Grand Competition. This “Xu Chengyao” he had never heard of before.
He took out a spirit tool and flipped through the roster—just a moment ago there had been one hundred and five people, and now suddenly there were one hundred and six.
He closed the roster. No need to say it—another one who’d come in through the back door. Song Shuiqing had also come in through connections, sure, but at least he could see Song Shuiqing’s potential. Besides, the boy respected his teachers and studied diligently, so he grudgingly approved of him.
He looked Xu Chaoqi over a few more times, and saw that the other’s lips were red, his teeth white, his features excellent—clearly a disciple from some great clan who had never suffered hardship in his life.
Inwardly he sneered, rather looking down on him, but on the surface he still asked, “What is your current cultivation level?”
Xu Chaoqi answered honestly, “Mid Golden Core.”
The elder: … He nearly choked on his own breath again.
He rubbed his chest, then held his head, not even wanting to look at Xu Chaoqi.
“Every disciple in the Grand Competition is at Late Stage Great Perfection. Our Way of Talisman is already weak compared to others—it’s already fortunate if we can beat another Path at all. How dare you come with only a mid-stage cultivation?”
Xu Chaoqi looked, seemingly, curious. “Then I see other Paths can win against our Way of Talisman with mid-stage or even early-stage cultivators—so why can’t our Way of Talisman win against another Path with a mid-stage cultivator?”
The elder: …
He looked up at Xu Chaoqi, momentarily at a loss.
His eyes went wide and fixed. “You really dare to think big. Never mind winning against a late-stage cultivator when you go up there—if you can beat even a mid-stage one, I’ll give you a thousand bundles of top-grade talisman paper.”
Xu Chaoqi looked delighted. “Is that really so wonderful?”
The elder: …
He waved his hand, telling Xu Chaoqi to hurry up and go in, but asked one more question as he was leaving.
“Are you only nominally registered? Could it be you cultivate more than one Path?”
Xu Chaoqi nodded. The elder looked at him once more, his gaze softening.
The Centennial Grand Disciple Competition allowed a disciple to enter several Paths at once—in that case, merit would be divided according to how many techniques of each Path the disciple used in the duels.
He thought: If this boy cultivates well in another Path too, then even in victory, some of the merit could be shared with the Way of Talisman.
So he asked one more question: “What’s the other Path?”
“Way of Arrays.”
The elder: …
The Elder of Zhenglin Mountain next door overheard and looked over as well. The two elders exchanged a glance, both looking somewhat subtle in expression.
The Fumo Mountain elder fell silent. Xu Chaoqi said nothing more either as he went in.
Every mountain’s disciples were enclosed within a barrier. Xu Chaoqi didn’t notice the barrier, and after passing through, he heard a ripping sound—the sound of fabric tearing.
He looked down; his robe swayed, and a piece at the hem had shredded into loose threads.
His brow furrowed slightly. He lifted the hem of his robe—fortunately not much had been torn, and aside from looking a bit unsightly, nothing else was exposed.
Xu Chaoqi searched through the crowd and soon spotted Song Shuiqing sitting alone.
It would soon be Song Shuiqing’s turn, and he had long since been a bundle of nerves, unable to sit still. His temperament was rather introverted—he could only bury his worries within himself, and his fingernails had already dug mark after mark into his palm.
“Shuiqing!” He walked up and called out.
Hearing the familiar voice, Song Shuiqing looked up in disbelief. But in an instant, a sincere smile spread across his whole face.
“Brother Qi!”
Seeing no one beside him, Xu Chaoqi sat down without standing on ceremony.
“What’s wrong?” Xu Chaoqi keenly noticed that Song Shuiqing was drenched in cold sweat.
Song Shuiqing seemed to have finally found somewhere to belong; his back gave way, revealing the young man’s exhaustion and dejection.
“I…”
“Hm?”
Song Shuiqing looked up, his voice faint. “Brother Qi, I want to win.”
“Then win!” Xu Chaoqi laughed.
Song Shuiqing slumped further, but he still took out a lunchbox and offered his “Brother Qi” some small snacks.
Xu Chaoqi took a bite. Song Shuiqing stammered, “But I don’t think I can win.”
Xu Chaoqi smiled. “You’re already at Foundation Establishment Great Perfection—can’t beat other Foundation Establishment cultivators?”
Song Shuiqing slumped even further. “But I only got here by popping pills like candy. Otherwise how could someone as young as me be at Foundation Establishment Great Perfection?”
Hearing this, Xu Chaoqi took out his own medicine bottle and poured out a single pill for Song Shuiqing.
“Then keep popping them.”
Song Shuiqing stared at the pill, his heart suddenly racing wildly. He knew this was the kind of small pill Brother Qi normally ate like candy, but for some reason, his subconscious was screaming at him, telling him absolutely not to swallow it.
Though it was clearly just one tiny pill, it felt heavier and heavier in his palm, as if boundless spiritual energy were buried within it.
He blinked, his throat somewhat dry. “Brother Qi, can I give this pill to a family member of mine?”
Xu Chaoqi smiled warmly. “If you like it, take it. I have more here—do you want more…”
Song Shuiqing hastily declined; he wasn’t a greedy person. He always sensed this medicine was no ordinary thing, and he didn’t want to owe Xu Chaoqi too much for something so precious.
The appearance of the pill had thrown his thoughts into disarray, and for a moment he didn’t know what to do with himself. His eyes darted about aimlessly, and by chance landed on the torn hem of Xu Chaoqi’s robe.
“Brother Qi, your disciple robe?” He picked up the hem. The disciple behind them noticed too, and that person happened to be the sociable type.
“Yo, fellow disciple, how did your robe tear like this?”
Xu Chaoqi withdrew his gaze from the platform and looked down at his own torn hem.
His head drooped as well, and he said helplessly, “I wasn’t paying attention when I passed through the barrier just now, and it got torn by the barrier.”
Song Shuiqing sighed. The disciple behind them clicked his tongue. “Ah, that’s no good!”
“Huh?” Song Shuiqing had only just joined Yingtian Sect, and his own disciple robe had never torn.
More disciples, hearing that a robe had been torn, hurried over. Seeing the state of the tear, they too sighed along.
“This tear is just too ugly, hard to mend!”
Xu Chaoqi paused. The disciples around him, sensing something off, asked in confusion, “What, you two have never mended a disciple robe before? Every Yingtian Sect disciple has to mend their own robe—after all, it’s a Profound-tier spirit tool too. Hard to mend, but extremely useful.”
Xu Chaoqi stiffened, saying nothing.
The Fumo Mountain disciples had been suppressing themselves in gloom all day; finally finding a topic, they chattered back and forth to relax a little.
They gathered around Xu Chaoqi. “This tear of yours is a bad one. This part happens to be woven from several kinds of spirit-energy-infused thread. Even to mend it, not to mention needing good control of strength, the needlework alone requires over a dozen different techniques before this spirit cloth can be sewn back together. As for whether it turns out looking good, that depends on the person’s skill—and given how badly yours is torn, it probably can’t be sewn well without decades of foundational skill.”
The more Xu Chaoqi listened, the tighter his grip on his torn hem became. He said with difficulty, “Is it really this hard to mend disciple robes nowadays?”
“This is a Profound-tier spirit tool—how can it be compared to ordinary tailoring?”
One disciple suddenly leaned in, lowering his voice with a smile. “Actually, that’s exactly why a cultivator skilled with a needle is popular for marriage proposals too—after all, it makes for a decent betrothal gift or dowry item.”
Xu Chaoqi: …
He suddenly thought of something, coughed a couple of times, pressed his lips together, and turned his face away, his expression somewhat unnatural.
Another disciple lost, and the idle chatter among the crowd died down; the atmosphere grew somewhat heavy.
Seeing Song Shuiqing growing more and more nervous, Xu Chaoqi pointed toward the platform and murmured something to him quietly.
Song Shuiqing’s expression gradually eased. He lowered his head and drew a few strokes on the stool. Xu Chaoqi shook his head and drew a few strokes himself, correcting him.
Unfortunately, his method was a bit obscure and uncommon; Xu Chaoqi taught him hundreds of times before Song Shuiqing’s talisman script gradually began to glow.
Delight washed over Song Shuiqing’s eyes. He glanced at the platform and asked, “Brother Qi, are you here today to…?”
“I also pulled some strings to join the Grand Competition.” The two of them corresponded often, so Xu Chaoqi naturally knew Song Shuiqing was just one spot short of qualifying.
Song Shuiqing hadn’t quite expected this, but felt mostly the joy of having a companion by his side.
Thinking of what Brother Qi had just taught him, he suddenly said, “If Brother Qi goes up there, you’ll surely bring glory to the Way of Talisman!”
Xu Chaoqi’s eyes curved into a smile, and he didn’t refute it.
They both assumed Song Shuiqing would compete before Xu Chaoqi. Who would have thought that just as Song Shuiqing finished drawing his twentieth talisman capable of glowing on the stool, they heard the cultivator at the front call out loudly. “Xu Chengyao!”
Xu Chaoqi startled, and stood up.
Song Shuiqing was momentarily dazed. Once he’d sorted out that Brother Qi would compete first, he grew puzzled. “Isn’t Brother Qi’s name Xu Qi?”
Xu Chaoqi looked down at him. He didn’t want to hide things from Song Shuiqing. “Neither is right. I’ll tell you when I get back.”
Xu Chaoqi walked forward, his frame slender, his robes made all the more beautiful by the wind.
Just as he reached the front of the assembled Fumo Mountain disciples, the other side’s competitor also arrived.
That person’s voice arrived before his figure did, laughter carrying both wildness and disdain. “I’d meant to let everyone see what I’m capable of, but never expected to run into a Talisman cultivator. No need to even compete—how utterly boring!”
The friends around him flattered him, while behind Xu Chaoqi, the Way of Talisman disciples let out cries of alarm.
“How could it be the Young Master of the Zhao family? Young Master Zhao already reached Golden Core Great Perfection at such a young age! Extraordinary talent, and a staff technique unmatched by anyone—even sword cultivators can only stand as his equal, at best.”
“And apparently Young Master Zhao also has a secret treasure, meant to be used in the finals, to secure a spot in the top ten.”
“What secret treasure?” Xu Chaoqi asked, turning back.
The disciple, startled by Xu Chaoqi’s appearance, answered carefully, “It’s a seal. Word is the Zhao family spent their entire fortune to have a renowned artificer from the Twenty-Seven Regions forge it in the likeness of a legendary divine artifact. The moment that seal came out of the forge it was already Earth-tier upper grade—capable of restraining any spirit tool under heaven. Even talisman paper loses all its power before it, becoming nothing but a useless scrap.”
Hearing this, Xu Chaoqi’s brow furrowed slightly, but after a moment it relaxed again.
He walked up onto the platform, and everyone saw him.
Seeing that a mere Mid Golden Core cultivator had come up to face the Young Master of the Zhao family, the crowd’s brows knit tightly, and they all shook their heads, as if the outcome were already sealed.
The Fumo Mountain elder shook his head too, unable to bear watching.
Song Shuiqing had great confidence in Xu Chaoqi, but the moment he thought of the opponent being the Young Master of the Zhao family, his heart suddenly lost its footing. He clenched his fingers anxiously, extremely on edge.
And up above on the auspicious clouds, from the moment his little junior martial brother appeared on the light screen, Wen Chaoxi had raised his eyes, a faint smile touching the corners of his lips.
Xiao Yao stood on the platform. Seeing that his opponent was a thin, frail-looking Mid Golden Core cultivator, the Young Master of the Zhao family immediately sneered, not even bothering to look at him properly.
“Go prepare a feast for this young master—this young master will be down in a few breaths.”
He didn’t even plan to actually fight. He raised his staff and turned to walk off the platform.
Wen Chaoxi’s gaze never left his junior martial brother. He gave a faint laugh. “Nothing more than an ant.”
However, the Young Master of the Zhao family was no fool. Everything he’d just done was to make Xu Chaoqi let his guard down—every cultivator knew that when fighting a Talisman cultivator, you had to catch them off guard.
The very moment he stepped off the platform, he instantly leapt back, staff raised, charging straight at Xu Chaoqi.
Wen Chaoxi held his teacup, took a light sip, then picked up his brush and dipped it in ink.
Xu Chaoqi smiled, but he didn’t face the Young Master of the Zhao family head-on. He turned away, and with a flick of his hand, twelve talisman papers appeared shielding him from behind.
The Young Master of the Zhao family had meant to teleport instantly, but he never imagined his opponent could anticipate his movement.
The twelve talisman papers expanded before his widening pupils; he tried to dodge backward, but the talismans were faster than him.
In an instant, twelve bolts of fire shot toward him. He tried to block with his staff, but had no idea what this talisman spell was—it directly pinned him to the barrier with flame.
Flames roared skyward; the crowd’s pupils seemed to catch fire as they watched. The Young Master of the Zhao family, try as he might, simply could not break through the flames.
The entire arena fell silent. Just one move—a single decisive strike.
This… this was a Talisman cultivator?!
Everyone who could see it was stunned. Even the elder in the corner, whose face had been etched with worry, suddenly widened his eyes, nearly falling off his stone stool.
The young man stood on the platform, his robe billowing in the wind, behind him clouds dyed red by the crimson sunset glow. His eyes seemed to hold hidden starlight, and his high, straight nose bridge made his features all the more striking.
And this very scene was captured by a brush tip—as Wen Chaoxi wielded his brush, sketching outlines and adding decorative patterns, the image on the scroll gradually took the shape of a robe.
Wen Chaoxi thought: If Xiao Yao wore this, it would probably look wonderful on him too.
The Young Master of the Zhao family hadn’t expected to lose this badly so easily; his mind buzzed with a ringing “hum,” panic and despair rising within him.
Exhausting all his strength, it took him the time of a cup of tea to finally wrench himself free from the fire. He gripped his staff even tighter, veins bulging, and struck again.
Xu Chaoqi watched him calmly, pinched a Lightning Summoning Talisman between his fingers, and pressed it downward. Three zhang of thunder instantly appeared, striking down along the staff and slamming the Young Master of the Zhao family into the ground.
The crowd below was stunned once more: this… this… the power of that Lightning Summoning Talisman seemed way off from normal!
The Young Master of the Zhao family recovered somewhat, unwilling to accept defeat, and got back to his feet. But before he could even grip his staff again, this time a Spirit-Binding Talisman bound his spiritual power, and he found himself without any strength left at all.
The crowd: !! Is this really a Talisman cultivator? Reacting this fast? Could they possibly be hallucinating?!
The Young Master of the Zhao family’s eyes went hollow. He thought of how he’d come intending to place in the top ten—could it possibly end in the very first round?
Just as everyone thought the Young Master of the Zhao family was about to give up, in an instant, everyone’s expressions froze. Touching their own spirit tools, they discovered their spiritual power seemed to have been locked away.
Sensing something, the crowd hurriedly looked up, only to see the Young Master of the Zhao family climbing to his feet with a smile, a smile that was rather unsettling, as if he meant to devour his opponent whole.
Leaning on his staff, he said in a chilling tone. “I’d meant to save this for the final round, but I never expected to run into such a tough nut as you.”
He walked step by step toward Xu Chaoqi. “I truly never expected you to be this formidable—you’re probably the lifeblood of those old men at Fumo Mountain.”
“My luck was bad, running into you in the very first round. And your luck was bad too, running into me in the very first round.” As he spoke, his mouth curled up nearly to his ears.
“If you hadn’t run into me, who knows, you might have made it to the final round. If you want to blame someone, blame your family background for not being as good as mine. Even if I can’t beat you in a fair fight, I have a spirit tool…” With a manic grin, he raised the seal in his hand.
Xu Chaoqi looked at the seal in his hand, his eyes deepening. He pinched a talisman paper between his fingers, but the Young Master of the Zhao family knew that the Talisman cultivator before him could no longer wield talismans.
The Young Master of the Zhao family lowered his voice. “Can you still control talismans?”
The young man lowered his head, silent for a moment, then suddenly asked, “Can you still use your staff?”
“What?” The Young Master of the Zhao family frowned.
The young man raised his hand; the Teleportation Talisman at his fingertip began to glow.
The Young Master of the Zhao family’s pupils constricted sharply. “How is that possible?”
The young man raised his other hand as well, and there, unmistakably, was another seal—strikingly similar to the Young Master of the Zhao family’s own seal. The only difference was that the seal in Xu Chaoqi’s hand was even more finely crafted.
Only then did the Young Master of the Zhao family realize that neither his staff nor his seal was working anymore.
The Teleportation Talisman began to activate. The Young Master of the Zhao family cried out in shock. “Your imitation is a higher grade than mine! What grade is it?!”
Before he finished speaking, he was teleported off the platform.
Xu Chaoqi lowered his eyes, gazing at the seal, and said in a voice only he himself could hear. “Perhaps it’s a divine artifact.”
He put the seal back into his storage pouch, his movements more careful than they had ever been before.