Xie Lingjun seemed to have come to demand answers, yet his expression suggested otherwise. Fu Yun remained unruffled even if Xie Lingjun had evidence, would the sect be willing to kill Fu Yun, a cultivation furnace?
Fu Yun simply felt weary.
He had no desire to engage further with Xie Lingjun and replied indifferently, “If you suspect me, then report it to the sect.”
Xie Lingjun said, “The Internal Affairs Division is no place of purity. Why is Senior Brother content to be someone else’s pawn?”
Fu Yun was somewhat surprised.
Indeed, the internal strife within Taiyi Sect was essentially a struggle between the puppets of powerful families and the direct disciples of the immortal sect. As the heir of a prominent family, Xie Lingjun knew far more than Fu Yun.
Did he know that Fu Yun was a cultivation furnace?
Whether for self-preservation or personal reasons, Fu Yun did not want anyone to know about his identity as a furnace. A thought crossed his mind, and he provoked Xie Lingjun, “Junior Brother, things are far more complicated than you realize.”
Xie Lingjun scoffed, “It’s nothing more than internal strife.”
“The Internal Affairs Division is filled with dirty dealings. You shouldn’t be trapped there.”
Xie Lingjun’s eyelids were thin, with slightly upturned outer corners. When he looked directly at someone, there was always an air of arrogance, sharp and piercing, as if brooking no doubt
“Come back to Sword Peak with me. No one will dare disturb you again.”
Xie Lingjun spoke with conviction, “This way, it will be more convenient for me, you, and even Chun Jun to spar.”
Fu Yun’s eyes widened slightly, but his lips pressed together, clearly more shocked than pleased.
Xie Lingjun asked, “Are you afraid my master won’t allow it? I will explain it to him myself. You have talent in swordsmanship.”
“I chose to stay here myself,” Fu Yun interrupted Xie Lingjun. “It has nothing to do with anyone else.”
Xie Lingjun’s question was slow and heavy, “Do you want to remain on Qing Sheng Peak, continuing to be overlooked, or bury yourself in internal affairs, wasting time on trivial matters, only to die an unclear death in the end?”
“What do you mean by ‘trivial matters’?”
“Seeking fame, expanding connections, chasing petty gains all are trivial matters.”
“Chasing petty gains” and “being trapped in mundane affairs” these words were surprisingly similar to the Sword Venerable’s earlier assessment of Fu Yun.
The veins on the back of Fu Yun’s hand suddenly bulged, writhing like snakes, then quickly vanished. Just like thirty years ago, he concealed his anger.
Xie Lingjun asked, “Does Senior Brother think I can’t protect you?”
“Junior Brother, this has nothing to do with you, your master, or anyone else in the world,” Fu Yun replied calmly. “I’ve lived twenty years longer than you. I survived just fine before you came along.”
Xie Lingjun said, “You genuinely love the sword and want to practice swordsmanship.”
Fu Yun replied, “But sincerity alone isn’t enough.”
Xie Lingjun retorted, “It’s your sincerity that isn’t enough.”
Xie Lingjun didn’t know why he was acting so recklessly. He had clearly said they were even, yet he couldn’t bear to let go. “This is the last time I’ll come looking for you.”
Fu Yun said, “Then let this be the last time.”
Xie Lingjun had arrived with imposing momentum and high expectations, only to leave in a rage, filled with frustration.
The System asked, “Why are you staying in the Internal Affairs Division? Do you have some plan?”
Fu Yun patiently explained: Everyone wanted a cultivation furnace, so why had Fu Yun, a top-tier furnace, not been forcibly taken in the thirty years since he joined the sect?
Because every faction wanted a piece of him, so no one could truly have him.
The Internal Affairs Division included personnel from all peaks, both inner and outer disciples, a mix of good and bad. Amidst the competition, struggle, and balancing of power, Fu Yun could find his path to survival in the subtle crevices of human hearts.
The System remarked, “Even so, why did you reject Xie Lingjun so harshly? You even said earlier that ‘meeting once leaves a trace of affection’…”
Fu Yun mused, “Would he say to Xie Yun, ‘I will protect you’?”
“Protect you” and “keep you safe” are not the same.
Fu Yun reflected: In the secret realm, in a moment of weakness, he had allowed the cold poison to flare up, feigning vulnerability to win Xie Lingjun’s pity. Looking back now, it disgusted him.
Already inferior in cultivation and family background, to further show weakness no wonder others looked down on him.
“Eloping under the moonlight, a swordsman rescuing a fallen beauty, what a beautiful tale.” Fu Yun suddenly smiled, his smile icy. “But what happens after the play ends?”
The System: “You mean, when drama returns to reality, it’s just a mess of trivialities? Distance creates beauty?”
Fu Yun: “I mean, I am no beauty.”
Xie Lingjun rescued the lost, the nobleman saved the fallen but where was Fu Yun in all this? Was Fu Yun supposed to stand still, fantasizing about being a beauty, waiting for a hero to save him?
Even water and fire can temper oneself, why rely on others to save him?
Fu Yun returned to the Internal Affairs Department, handling trivial matters. While chatting with the junior disciples, the topic naturally turned to the escapee from the Punishment Division. A disciple shared a memory projection: the Harmony Sect escapee had self-destructed on the spot, severely injuring an elder who was pursuing her.
Fu Yun asked Senior Brother Mu, “How did the interrogation of the other Harmony Sect disciples go?”
Senior Brother Mu: “The rest were just ordinary people. Their cultivation was abolished, and they were exiled to the mortal realm.”
Fu Yun looked up, his eyes widening slightly as he gazed at the sky.
He recalled the memories of Zhu Qingke he had seen during the soul search.
A frivolous ordinary person. The most memorable bad deed was stealing the undergarments of a dual cultivation partner; the clearest good deed was burning down a brothel after drinking with a courtesan.
The Heavenly Dao remains constant, unchanged by the virtuous or the wicked.
The System said, “Her self-destruction wasn’t your fault. You helped her.”
Fu Yun lifted his eyelids, casting a mocking smile at no one in particular. If he truly wanted to help her, he should have burned down the Punishment Division, blown up the mountain-guarding formation, killed those who coveted her. Self-consolation was nothing but a sign of weakness.
Thus, an ordinary month passed. On a typical overcast day, Fu Yun went to the library.
In the past, he would also find time to read books every month, so this trip was nothing unusual.
But the System was well aware of Fu Yun’s restlessness and anxiety over the past month. Could he still focus on reading? Or perhaps. Fu Yun was hoping to find some secret cultivation techniques for cauldrons in the library?
But the chances were too slim.
Afraid of upsetting Fu Yun or making him sad, the System started with “The weather is nice,” moved to “You’re so studious,” and then casually asked, “What are you studying?” Fu Yun couldn’t help but chuckle at this.
He said directly, “Zhu Qingke left me four words at the end.”
Taiyi Library.
She had once held the straw puppet’s hand, slowly writing each word.
Fu Yun shouldn’t have believed it how could he know this wasn’t another test from the sect?
But that night, Zhu Qingke self-destructed. Cauldrons were precious, and a Nascent Soul cauldron was even more valuable. Taiyi wouldn’t easily eliminate her. The only possibility was that she refused to live as a slave and chose death to make her stand.
Handing Fu Yun the cultivation jade slip might have been her way of protecting her sect’s disciples, helping Taiyi probe Fu Yun. But the four words she had forcefully written while gripping Fu Yun’s hand could they have come from her true heart?
Fu Yun was merely gambling on that shred of sincerity, that glimmer of hope.
Gambling that the hatred and expectation in the eyes of that old acquaintance that night were genuine that she truly wanted the absorption cultivation technique to be passed down, wanted cauldrons to survive.
Originally, the library was also Fu Yun’s next target.
Since learning he was a cauldron, Fu Yun had been gathering related information. Throughout the thousand-year history of the cultivation world, cauldron cultivators were few and far between. None had ever reached the Great Ascension stage. The most famous one appeared a hundred years ago.
Her Daoist title remains unknown. It is only known that she halted at the Nascent Soul stage and perished in the heavenly tribulation while attempting to break through to the Great Ascension realm. It was only after the sect collected her remains posthumously that they discovered she was a cauldron.
That sect was Taiyi.
During her lifetime, this cultivator was obscure and held a minor position, with the last place she stayed being the library.
Fu Yun had an intuition that there would be something in the library.
A century ago, there were already cauldrons infiltrating immortal sects, cultivating to the Nascent Soul stage. This was just the exposed part, what about those hidden in the shadows? To put it inappropriately, when you spot one cockroach, there are already piles of them.
A hundred years is not enough to erase all traces of that senior. Otherwise, her story would not have been passed down to this day.
On the first day, the sea of books was vast, and he found nothing.
Fu Yun visited the library every month and was quite familiar with the managing disciple. After exchanging a few casual words, he used the excuse of “wanting to find a side job to earn some extra money” to request the library’s management regulations.
Taiyi placed great emphasis on rules and procedures, with records kept for the establishment and modification of each regulation, including the year.
Fu Yun focused on the changes made between 130 and 100 years ago.
One of the rules stated, “The ancient texts in the Wu District are precious and must not be moved without the sect leader’s order.” When Fu Yun inquired about it, the disciple complained.
“The Wu District is piled with old books that are difficult to read, heavy, and the paper is brittle. Usually, not even ghosts go there and we’re not allowed to move them. Who would want to do such a tedious task?”
“Look, the task token for organizing the Wu District has been sitting in the same spot for half a year.” The disciple sighed. “Steward Song told me to take it myself, otherwise I’d fail this month’s assessment.”
Fu Yun said, “I happen to have nothing to do. I’ll take it for you.”
The disciple was overjoyed and thanked Fu Yun repeatedly. Fu Yun smoothly made his way into the Wu District.
He hung up a “Temporarily Closed” sign and added several talismans to seal the door, preventing anyone from barging in.
The shelves were covered in dust, filled with outdated cultivation techniques, general knowledge guides, and books written by mortals all hefty tomes, with the thickest exceeding a thousand pages.
The sun set in the west.
Fu Yun was running out of time. As a cultivator, no matter how difficult the books were to organize, it shouldn’t take all night. If he didn’t leave soon, the managing disciple would grow suspicious.
The system was even more anxious than Fu Yun and, breaking its own principles, actively scanned the library for him. However, the books were just ordinary books no hidden items, no secret mechanisms or passages.
Fu Yun was the type to grow calmer the more disappointed he became. As he flipped through the books, he didn’t forget to clean and dust.
The system suddenly said, “Look at the side of the book. Isn’t the numbering a bit strange?”
Fu Yun had already checked: “There are two types of numbering, old and new. The new ones are engraved with spiritual energy, while the old numbers are handwritten.” He paused.
Now that it was dark, he examined them carefully under candlelight. The depth, shade, and handwriting of the old numbers varied, clearly originating from different eras and different people.
The system said, “This book’s number is two digits, the next one becomes three digits, then reverts to two digits completely inconsistent with any sorting pattern!”
Checking this row of books, he even found four-digit numbers.
Fu Yun and the system simultaneously thought of one possibility: ” Page numbers.”
Fu Yun immediately took out the book in front of him and flipped to the page corresponding to the number. Then, his finger stung the page actually absorbed several drops of his blood.
The book flipped open on its own to a specific page.
Several words on it were emphasized with horizontal lines.
For some reason, Fu Yun’s hand trembled slightly. He immediately returned to the beginning of the collection and flipped through them one by one.
The Wu District contained over 30,000 books, with the first to the 6,000th bearing old numbers.
Among these 6,000 books, the words marked with horizontal lines combined to form an article of nearly 20,000 characters. A 10,000-word cultivation technique for cauldrons.
It was not a complete cultivation method, but a collection of twenty-one volumes, encompassing various directions, attempts, and annotations on difficulties. Extremely concise, with many abbreviated terms unless one had studied the art of spells, it would be impossible to decipher.
Each of the twenty-one volumes bore a signature at the end. The first volume was signed “Fuyun,” whose insights were the deepest.
After the system recorded it word by word, it was stunned: “A top scholar’s handwritten notes.”
For a thousand years since the founding of the Taiyi Sect, twenty-one cauldrons had come to the First Immortal Sect, arriving in obscurity and leaving without a trace, leaving no mark in the history of the cultivation world.
The tens of thousands of words in the library were the lives of these twenty-one individuals.
By the time Fuyun retrieved the last book, after raising and lowering his hand three thousand times, his head had begun to feel heavy too much blood had been drawn from his fingertips. Presumably, this was a secret technique, using bloodline to confirm that the reader was a cauldron.
As he lowered his hand for the last time, a ray of spiritual light flew from the page, enveloping Fuyun. Pure spiritual energy seeped into his limbs and bones, replenishing the depleted essence and vitality.
This book was marked with four words, unrelated to cultivation, just a simple phrase
“May you attain the Dao.”
His fingertips pale from blood loss, Fuyun’s dry lips trembled. Under the candlelight, his eyes flickered with a shimmering light.
With his blood, he had exchanged for the lifelong efforts of these women.