For the dozen-plus years that followed, Yin Zhiping spent most of his time at the Quanzhen Sect, listening to the news that drifted up from below the mountain.
News of his master Qiu Chuji, of the Five Greats of the Central Plains, of Wanyan Kang and Guo Jing—a little of everything.
By then, through diligent training, Yin Zhiping had pushed the Quanzhen Swordplay, Quanzhen Inner Art, Quanzhen Palm Technique, and Golden Goose Art all to 80 proficiency, and his strength had reached Acquired-realm perfection—the same as his master Qiu Chuji. Only, no one knew.
It wasn't that Yin Zhiping meant to hide it. But among the disciples of his generation, he had always been the strongest, taking first place in every martial assessment without fail.
To spare his fellow disciples' pride, he had never once used his full strength. He could have won cleanly and crushingly—there was simply no need.
So no one ever noticed that Yin Zhiping's strength had already surpassed most of the Seven Masters of Quanzhen.
By that point he finally had the power to protect himself—yet he still didn't leave the mountain.
Over those dozen-plus years, Yin Zhiping had come to see the Quanzhen Sect as home. Qiu Chuji might have been an unqualified master, but say what you would, the man had saved his life and given him the chance to learn martial arts. In his heart, Yin Zhiping was grateful.
Besides, the rest of the Seven Masters treated him with genuine sincerity. Yin Zhiping was no stone-hearted man; he kept his own honest ledger of who was good to him and who was not.
So for the next few years, Yin Zhiping sat serenely in the Quanzhen Sect and watched the winds and storms of the jianghu rise and churn.
Three years ago, the Mount Hua Sword Contest had concluded. Guo Jing claimed the title of number one under heaven, Ouyang Feng went mad, and later Yang Kang died. The Seven Masters of Quanzhen reined in their wandering hearts and returned to the sect to devote themselves to teaching disciples, resolved to carry the Quanzhen Sect to greater glory.
And now, Yin Zhiping had trained the sect's swordplay, inner art, palm technique, and lightness skill all to a full 100 proficiency. His strength had reached the very limit of the current martial world: the Innate realm—the realm of the Five Greats of the Central Plains.
(Martial realms: third-rate — second-rate — first-rate — Acquired — Innate. Each realm is divided into early, middle, late, and perfection stages.)
"Senior Brother, why are you up here again? Do a poor junior a kindness, would you? I don't have your masterful lightness skill..."
Zhao Zhijing's voice drew closer and closer, rising from below the cliff. Something seemed to be up.
Yin Zhiping gathered his thoughts. Only a handful of his junior brothers—Zhen Zhibing, Zhao Zhijing, Li Zhichang—even knew of this place, and it was steep and treacherous enough that even trained martial artists had to pick their way with care. They wouldn't normally come. Most likely, Master wanted him for something.
His feet tapped the ground, and Yin Zhiping rose on the wind. His figure flickered, and he was already standing before Zhao Zhijing.
Zhao Zhijing was used to it. If anything, he'd called out on purpose to alert this senior brother and get him to come down—he did not feel like climbing.
"Senior Brother, the Sect Leader sent me to fetch you. He says he has instructions for you."
Zhao Zhijing looked at the figure before him, graceful as a banished immortal, and quietly let out a long breath. Envy gnawed at him—the man was better-looking, his martial talent far outstripped his own, and he had the full regard of their masters and elders. As long as he was here, Zhao Zhijing's dream of becoming Sect Leader of the Quanzhen lineage was all but hopeless.
For now, all he could do was tuck those little schemes away and relay Master Changchun's message. The rest could be plotted slowly. Wait for the right moment...
Zhao Zhijing thought he had hidden it well, but to Yin Zhiping, at the Innate realm, all of it lay in plain sight.
The Innate realm—as the name implied, the Acquired returning to the Innate. Every meridian in the body opened; internal energy transmuted into true essence, inexhaustible. It was a realm to be grasped by intuition and never explained in words, divine and unfathomable—the most vital threshold on the path of the Tao.
One's understanding of heaven, earth, and all things transcended the ordinary; the five senses sharpened beyond mortal limits—and a mysterious sixth sense unfolded besides!
How could Zhao Zhijing's petty scheming ever escape Yin Zhiping's eyes?
But for now Zhao Zhijing was behaving himself, and Yin Zhiping had never taken him seriously anyway. One Zhao Zhijing more or one Zhao Zhijing less would make no difference to the Quanzhen Sect, so he didn't intend to bother with him.
"Slow down, Junior Brother. Did Master say what it was about?"
Yin Zhiping asked mildly, a faint smile on his face.
Zhao Zhijing was a small man—decent talent, but merely decent. If he wanted to contend for the Sect Leader's seat, fine; every disciple had that right. Let him contend.
But if he ever nursed thoughts he shouldn't—if he harmed the Quanzhen Sect's name and interests as he had in the original story—then Yin Zhiping would not be polite. It would take no more than a wave of his hand. Not worth dwelling on.
"I don't know. It seemed urgent, though."
Zhao Zhijing answered honestly.
Zhao Zhijing had always found this senior brother—who'd entered the sect a year before him—unfathomably deep. He'd never dared bare his ambitions in front of him, treading carefully instead, terrified of provoking him.
"Then I'll go on ahead, Junior Brother. It wouldn't do to keep Master waiting."
Yin Zhiping remained light as a breeze, smiling, his courtesy impeccable—and all the more distant for it.
Among the junior brothers of his generation, setting himself aside: Zhen Zhibing had the finest talent, Li Zhichang the straightest moral compass, and Zhao Zhijing the deepest schemes.
"Of course, Senior Brother, go quickly. Mustn't keep the Sect Leader waiting."
He'd half hoped this senior brother might carry him along—but wouldn't that be admitting he was a cut beneath him? So Zhao Zhijing could only say that instead.
Yin Zhiping chuckled. As if Zhao Zhijing's little thoughts could escape him. That stubborn, tough-mouthed act was almost comical—call it a rare seasoning in his otherwise placid life of cultivation.
He said no more. With no visible motion, his figure was already drifting into the air, gliding toward Chongyang Palace.
The Golden Goose Art, the Quanzhen Sect's signature lightness skill. It was no top-tier technique, but its effects were remarkable all the same—at its peak, one could stride through empty air, and it even aided the cultivation of internal energy.
Inside Chongyang Palace waited not only Qiu Chuji, the Sect Leader, but also Hao Datong, Wang Chuyi, Sun Bu'er, and Liu Chuxuan—all supposedly in seclusion.
"Master. Martial Uncles, Martial Aunt."
Even Yin Zhiping rarely saw the Seven Masters of Quanzhen gathered so fully. His puzzlement deepened. What could possibly have drawn every one of them out of closed-door cultivation?
"Zhiping, you're here. Come, come—your master has a task for you."
Since the affair with Yang Kang, Qiu Chuji had grown only more satisfied with this disciple of his—modest and temperate, judicious in advance and retreat, with an air like drifting wind. Yin Zhiping had long been his pride.
The martial brothers and sister at his side were satisfied with this nephew-disciple beyond all satisfying, and the disciples below all deferred to him willingly. That was how Yin Zhiping had earned his present standing in the Quanzhen Sect.
"Whatever you command, Master. Your disciple will do everything in his power."
The children of Huaxia honor their teachers and the Tao: a master for a day is a father for life. Qiu Chuji had treated him well, and had been attentive ever since his return; his martial uncles and aunt had taught him kindly too.
So even though his martial realm had long since surpassed Qiu Chuji and the others, Yin Zhiping still held to a disciple's etiquette, and gave his elders every ounce of respect!