Wait… Fang Xuan suddenly remembered—wasn’t today the day he was supposed to attend class at the Sword-Honing Hall?
Yesterday he went down the mountain with Ning Xian, then went through a night attack. In the morning he slept straight through, came back late again, and completely tossed the whole thing to the back of his mind.
Looks like skipping class in his previous life had become a habit…
He rubbed between his brows.
Even if it was just going through the motions, as a new disciple, repeatedly being absent for no reason still wasn’t good. If it kept up, it might ruin his “law-abiding good junior brother” persona.
He had to go to the main hall area and explain things to the deacon in charge, to avoid trouble later.
He got up and headed toward the main hall.
He found the middle-aged deacon responsible for the Sword-Honing Hall’s daily attendance.
He casually made up an excuse—“Yesterday while practicing swordsmanship I gained some insights, went into closed-door contemplation, and forgot the time”—then, as if by accident, handed over a small cloth pouch with more than ten spirit stones inside.
The deacon weighed the pouch in his hand, then glanced at the direct-disciple sword tassel at Fang Xuan’s waist. Clearly pleased, he nodded.
“Mhm. A breakthrough in cultivation is indeed important—can’t delay that.
In that case… from now on, you don’t need to come to the Sword-Honing Hall’s regular classes.”
As expected—spirit stones could clear the way anywhere.
If he’d known it was this easy, he should’ve greased the wheels days ago. Would’ve spared himself the early mornings running over every day.
With things settled, Fang Xuan was in a good mood and prepared to head back.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a familiar slender figure in the plaza outside the side hall of the main hall.
Ning Xian.
Why was Senior Sister here?
Fang Xuan paused and looked over.
Ning Xian stood in the waiting area outside the deacon’s office, apparently lining up to receive something.
She stood perfectly straight, her profile cold and aloof.
Soon it was her turn.
The disciple handing things out seemed to know her. There was something odd in his gaze, but he still followed procedure and handed her a small cloth pouch.
“Senior Sister Ning, this is your monthly stipend as a direct disciple: ten spirit stones, and some basic pills.”
Fang Xuan frowned slightly, remembering how Ning Xian had counted a few spirit stones at the night market last night just to buy rice.
Ning Xian took the light, almost weightless pouch. Her fingers tightened a little. Her face didn’t change—she only said softly, “Much obliged,” and turned to leave.
She’d never come to claim her stipend before, but now she truly needed spirit stones. Fang Xuan’s talent was too high—he couldn’t be held back by a lack of cultivation resources.
And with one more person at home, daily expenses were also higher than before.
Just then, a sweet, affected voice rang out again.
“Isn’t that Senior Sister Ning? You’re here to claim your stipend too?”
Shen Qingqing appeared from who-knows-where, wearing a smile that looked concerned on the surface. She swayed over gracefully and blocked Ning Xian’s path.
Today she’d dressed especially carefully—her robes were luxurious, making Ning Xian, in her plain, worn white clothes, look even more cold and impoverished by contrast.
Quite a few disciples nearby turned to look, their expressions mixed.
Ning Xian halted, raised her eyes to Shen Qingqing, and said coolly, “What is it?”
“Nothing much. I just saw you and came to say hello.”
Shen Qingqing smiled innocently. Her eyes flicked to the shabby little pouch in Ning Xian’s hand, and she put on a look of surprise.
“Eh? Senior Sister, your stipend… why is it so little? Did the deacon’s office make a mistake? Do you want me to help you go ask?”
It sounded like concern, but every word was a needle—reminding everyone of how down-and-out Ning Xian was now.
Ning Xian remained indifferent. She didn’t answer, didn’t react—she acted as if Shen Qingqing didn’t exist.
Seeing no response, Shen Qingqing instead stepped closer, pulled out several clearly higher-quality spirit stones from her storage pouch, and offered them to Ning Xian.
“Senior Sister, you’re… in a difficult situation right now. Take these spirit stones for now—consider it a small token from your junior sister. We’re from the same sect, after all. We should help each other.”
Ning Xian still didn’t acknowledge her and turned to leave.
“Senior Sister, no need to be polite…” Shen Qingqing tried to keep performing—
……
A perfect opportunity.
Not far away, Fang Xuan’s eyes lit up.
He thought it through and decided he could absolutely pull something here.
Normally, he wouldn’t do childish tricks like pointing at someone’s nose and cursing in public. Insults were pointless—he preferred solving the person who created the problem.
But right now, he needed to act.
Act like a hot-blooded, extraordinarily talented junior brother with no tolerance for injustice—someone who couldn’t stand seeing his senior sister humiliated.
He’d deliberately stand up for Ning Xian, blow things up, and act arrogant and unmanageable, refusing to be persuaded.
That way, Ning Xian, as senior sister—either to calm things down or to protect him—would be forced to clamp down on him hard.
Then he could push back a little harder.
Ning Xian might even take stronger measures—drag him away, lock him up, or tie him up and whip him harshly.
Yes. Exactly.
Make Ning Xian feel he was young and ignorant and needed strict discipline—then “train” him hard.
“Senior Sister Shen, what a generous ‘gift’ you have there.”
Fang Xuan’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried clearly across the area—open, undisguised mockery.
Everyone’s gaze instantly shifted from Ning Xian and Shen Qingqing to the handsome youth who had suddenly appeared.
Ning Xian turned back. When she saw Fang Xuan, a flicker of worry passed through her cold eyes.
Shen Qingqing also froze, then quickly put on a wronged expression. “Junior Brother Fang? What do you mean by that? I’m just concerned about Senior Sister Ning…”
“Concerned?” Fang Xuan walked to Ning Xian’s side and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her, his eyes like blades as he stared at Shen Qingqing.
“Using a few spirit stones to buy the pleasure of humiliating a fellow sect senior sister in public? That kind of ‘concern’ is cheap—and disgusting.”
“You…!” Shen Qingqing’s tearful look almost cracked. Anger flashed in her eyes, but she immediately turned it into near-tears again.
“Junior Brother Fang, how can you say that about me? I… I only wanted to help…”
“Help?” Fang Xuan sneered. “Even if my senior sister has fallen on hard times, it’s not your place—a useless mid-stage Foundation Establishment—to ‘give alms.’ Mind your own business.”
Instant silence.
The disciples around them stared, stunned. This newly appointed direct disciple wasn’t giving anyone face—he was openly tearing into Shen Qingqing, a favored senior sister, right in front of everyone!
Ning Xian reached out and grabbed Fang Xuan’s wrist.
“Stop talking. Come with me.”
She understood Shen Qingqing—and the one behind her—far too well. Fang Xuan was new. Even with high talent, he had no foundation yet. If he publicly clashed like this, the trouble afterward would be endless.
And from what she knew of Shen Chen, he might not intervene openly in a junior dispute—
But secretly dealing Fang Xuan a fatal blow? That would be far too easy.
Feeling the force on his wrist, Fang Xuan steadied himself.
Step one—forcing her to restrain him—achieved.
But on his face, he deliberately struggled a little. When he couldn’t break free, he kept a cold expression and continued toward Shen Qingqing:
“Senior Sister, don’t stop me. It’s just a mere mid-stage Foundation Establishment. Relying on some underhanded, shameful tricks, you really think you can cover the Sword Peak sky with one hand? Today, I want to see—”
That line was practically accusing Shen Qingqing of climbing up through dirty means. The powder keg was about to explode.
“Come with me.”
Ning Xian’s voice rose, colder now, edged with sternness.
She didn’t say anything else. Her grip tightened, and she practically half-dragged, half-pulled Fang Xuan away from the spot, striding quickly out of the plaza.
Fang Xuan went along with it, still wearing an unwilling, hard-edged look.
Behind them, only a plaza full of dumbfounded disciples remained—along with Shen Qingqing, whose face had gone pale then green with rage, her whole body trembling slightly.
She stared at their departing backs—especially Fang Xuan’s blatant look of contempt—and her nails dug deep into her palm.
Fang Xuan… you’re asking to die!
……
So it worked.
It wasn’t “harsh training” yet, but being forcibly dragged away still counted as discipline.
And judging by Ning Xian’s stern tone and uncompromising movements just now…
There was hope.
Next, once she dragged him back to the little valley, it would depend on how she “educated” him.
But for now, he still had to pretend he was angry at Senior Sister, then say a few more lines about going to Shen Chen to “get himself killed.”
That way… wouldn’t she have to tie him up and whip him hard?
Rate on N.U.
