After tiring himself from sword practice, Fang Xuan picked up a coarse porcelain teacup and took a sip of freshly sun-dried wild tea.
Just as he was about to set the cup down, a streak of light pierced the air, silently hovering before him.
It was a jade talisman, entirely green with cloud patterns etched along its edges. A communication talisman, and one reserved for the sect higher-ups.
Fang Xuan paused for a moment, then reached out and took it.
“Main Peak Qingyun Hall — Qingyun Sect’s sect master, Lu Qingsong.”
The message was concise, stating no specific matter, but the words “sect master” alone carried enough weight.
Fang Xuan sneered inwardly, casually crushing the single-use jade talisman. The powder rustled from his fingertips.
In the original novel, everyone in Qingyun Sect, from the sect master to the peak lords, were villains, with only a very few peripheral characters being exceptions.
To put it plainly, the sect was rotten to its core; there wasn't a single good person among them.
Shen Chen had finished his probing, and now it was the sect master’s turn to personally step in?
However, this also presented an opportunity for Fang Xuan to probe.
If he wanted to take Ning Xian away, the first person he needed to deal with was Shen Chen.
And given Shen Chen’s status within the sect, killing him would almost certainly mean antagonizing the entire Qingyun Sect.
His identity as a direct descendant of the Fang family could indeed protect him; at least, no one in Qingyun Sect would dare to touch him.
But Ning Xian would definitely not be concerned by that.
He was very clear about his family. Under the Immortal Realm, everyone was an ant. All mortals sought the path to immortality, and strength was the only eternal identity.
His family would not completely fall out with a major sect for an outsider like Ning Xian, as it might even implicate the family’s interests.
There was no such thing as familial affection in the cultivation world's families.
If his talent was insufficient, his status as a direct descendant would also fall out of favor.
And his cousins, who had long envied his status and resources, would then eagerly seize the opportunity to worsen his situation, wishing they could devour his flesh.
Therefore, everything ultimately depended on himself.
He looked up at the sky.
Unbeknownst to him, the mountain weather had already turned cool, and the wind carried a desolate chill. Autumn had arrived, and winter was fast approaching.
As for Qingyun Sect’s sect master... merely a Transformation Realm cultivator.
.........
“Senior Sister.”
He turned and looked towards Ning Xian, who was beside him, meeting her gaze directly.
“Hmm?” Ning Xian heard him and averted her eyes, a flicker of panic on her usually cool face, her earlobes slightly flushed.
Called out so suddenly by Fang Xuan, she thought he had caught her staring.
“The sect master sent a message, asking me to go to the Main Peak’s Qingyun Hall,” Fang Xuan said in a normal tone.
Ning Xian’s hand, clutching the small herb hoe, tightened abruptly, her knuckles turning slightly white.
Qingyun Hall? The sect master himself summoned him?
“I’m coming with you.”
But as the words left her mouth, she realized her tone seemed to carry that same peremptory, controlling quality from before.
She knew that this might not be good, that she was too nervous, too... overstepping.
Yet, she just couldn’t put her mind at ease.
She pressed her lips together, wanting to explain something, but didn’t know where to start.
“Alright,” Fang Xuan simply replied with a concise affirmation.
Ning Xian’s anxious heart eased slightly.
“Then... let’s go.”
Ning Xian turned, washed her hands by the stream, tidied her robes, and returned to her usual cool and ethereal demeanor.
.........
Since joining Qingyun Sect, Fang Xuan’s range of activity had primarily been limited to Sword Peak and Qingshi Town at the foot of the mountain.
He had never truly visited the other peaks, let alone the Main Peak, where the sect core was located.
The closer they approached the Main Peak, the more they could feel the rich spiritual energy there, far surpassing that of Sword Peak.
The peak rose like a sword, piercing the clouds, its upper half disappearing into the surging sea of clouds.
Spiritual birds and exotic beasts appeared and disappeared, and waterfalls cascaded like silver ribbons.
But Fang Xuan, observing it all, only felt it was outwardly magnificent but inwardly hollow.
Qingyun Hall was located on a platform near the Main Peak’s summit.
Landing their sword light, they stepped onto the vast grounds paved with warm spirit white jade.
Even with mental preparation, Fang Xuan scanned the area several times.
It was too grand.
The palace complex before him, rather than being a great hall, was more like a majestic mountain fortress.
The main hall itself stood dozens of zhang tall, with nine colossal coiling dragon pillars erected before its gates.
And this magnificent hall was merely the front portion of the architectural complex; behind it, halls upon halls stretched endlessly into the deep mists, their ends unseen.
Indeed, it was the final dungeon for the senior sister in the original novel’s ascension to the Immortal Realm. Who could possibly overcome this without a cheat?
Fang Xuan frowned, “It seems it won’t be easy to deal with.”
Ning Xian softly hummed in agreement. Her expression was even cooler than usual, and as her gaze swept over the familiar halls and coiling dragon pillars, a deep, ingrained coldness flashed in her eyes.
Still, she subtly shifted, unconsciously positioning herself half a step diagonally in front of Fang Xuan, and lowered her voice:
“Sect Master Lu Qingsong, a middle-stage Transformation Realm cultivator, has presided over Qingyun Sect for more than three hundred years. He is unfathomably deep, and his emotions are unreadable. We must be exceedingly cautious.”
Fang Xuan nodded, indicating he understood.
He would, of course, be cautious, but he also knew that before such an old fox, excessive timidity and fawning would only put him at a disadvantage.
“But it’s only ‘not easy to deal with.’”
Ning Xian glanced at him, seeing his normal expression and lack of fear. Her heart eased slightly, but her concern still lingered.
.........
Fang Xuan followed the guiding disciple into the rear hall.
There was a vast inner lake, filled with spiritual mist. In the middle of the lake, on a white jade pavilion, a figure in green robes sat with his back to them, leisurely brewing tea.
“Sit.”
The voice was warm, carried by the gentle breeze.
Sect Master Lu Qingsong turned around, gesturing to a stone stool in the pavilion, a benevolent, elder-like smile on his face.
Fang Xuan’s steps didn’t falter as he walked into the pavilion, but he did not sit. Instead, he cupped his hands and said,
“Sect Master, please be seated. This disciple will stand; it is not impolite.”
Lu Qingsong’s hand, holding the teapot, paused. He looked up at Fang Xuan, his smile undiminished: “But isn’t this also... looking down on me?”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
Fang Xuan lowered his eyes, answering curtly, his posture neither humble nor arrogant.
“Neither humble nor arrogant, indeed.”
Lu Qingsong gazed at him intently, finally placing the teacup gently on the stone table.
“A Void Core cultivator at merely seventeen. You have the capital for it. To call you the foremost among Qingyun Sect’s young generation would not be an exaggeration.”
As his words fell —
The calm lake surface outside the pavilion suddenly erupted with massive splashes.
A ferocious colossal flood dragon, entirely covered in dark green scales and with two horns on its head, burst from the water, its upper half rearing up.
The flood dragon’s mere presence caused the surrounding spiritual energy to become turbulent, its boundless and fierce spiritual pressure like an abyss or a sea.
Fang Xuan remained utterly still, not even a corner of his robes stirred excessively by the sudden burst of spiritual pressure.
He didn’t even shift his gaze, his eyes still fixed on the tea set on the stone table.
It was as if the ferocious beast, so close at hand, was less worthy of his attention than a wisp of tea mist in a cup.
Lu Qingsong took in Fang Xuan’s reaction, and the last trace of casualness in his heart receded.
This child’s temperament was far beyond what mere ‘steadfastness’ could describe.
He tapped the table lightly with a finger, and the aggressively posturing colossal flood dragon let out an unwilling low roar, slowly sinking back into the water.
The lake surface quickly returned to calm, leaving only ripples.
“Youthful exuberance is a good thing,” Lu Qingsong picked up the teapot again, slowly filling his own empty cup as if the previous intimidation had never occurred.
“But a rigid branch breaks easily. The sect needs a great tree that can take root and shield from wind and rain, not... a great roc that might soar into the nine heavens at any moment.”
His tone remained gentle, even carrying a hint of regret.
Fang Xuan finally raised his eyes, meeting Lu Qingsong’s seemingly calm gaze, and smiled back:
“Sect Master speaks wisely. This disciple is still young, whether a tree or a roc remains unknown. But no matter what, one first needs a place to settle, don’t you agree?”
“Your surname is Fang?” Lu Qingsong asked again.
“It’s a false name, to avoid my enemies,” Fang Xuan replied. He knew Lu Qingsong wanted to win him over.
However, this was precisely what he wanted, killing two birds with one stone.
It was something like... a calculated maneuver.
.........
Lu Qingsong watched him for a moment, then smiled, waving his hand:
“Go now. The Secret Realm is about to open. Prepare well. Since you are on Sword Peak, Peak Lord Shen will naturally make arrangements for you.”
“This disciple takes his leave.”
Fang Xuan stepped back a few paces, then turned and departed the way he came, his steps still steady.
Only after his back disappeared behind the hall doors did Lu Qingsong slowly drop his smile, gazing at the curling tea mist as he murmured to himself:
“A shallow pond... it truly might not be able to contain such a hidden dragon whose claws are already sharp. Shen Chen... you might have misjudged him this time.”
“Hahaha, this man... he will surely be mine, Lu Qingsong’s.”
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