Following the directions given by the Tiance Palace disciple, Lin Zhiyue walked through several quiet alleys in the northern part of Juxian City and stopped in front of an unremarkable black wooden door.
The door was not closed, but left ajar, revealing a narrow crack. She raised her hand and knocked twice, and the door swung inward on its own.
The courtyard inside was easily three times larger than it appeared from the outside.
The ground was paved with bluestone, with several clumps of slender bamboo planted in the four corners. Right in the center stood an old peach tree in full bloom, its branches laden with pink and white petals that rustled down in the afternoon breeze, blanketing the ground in a faint fragrance. Beneath the tree stood a stone table and two stone stools. Venerable Yanchen sat on one of the stools, his head lowered as he clutched a piece of white cloth, wiping the jet-black long saber resting across his lap.
The scabbard leaned against the edge of the table. Most of the blade was drawn, its edge reflecting a faint, dark red glow that shimmered in the sunlight. He wiped it with intense focus, slowly sliding the pad of his finger along the flat of the blade with even pressure. His brow was lowered, and his high ponytail draped over his shoulder, the tips of his hair brushing against the edge of the stone table.
Lin Zhiyue paused at the entrance of the courtyard.
To be honest, it was a beautiful sight. A man dressed in red and black martial attire sat beneath a tree full of peach blossoms, head lowered as he wiped his blade. Petals drifted onto his shoulders and the tabletop, silent and serene, looking just like a scene from an ancient painting.
She stepped inside, her boots making soft tapping sounds on the bluestone ground. Qi Yan lifted his eyelids slightly, shifting his gaze from the blade to her.
Then, his movements faltered for a beat.
Lin Zhiyue was wearing the full Ode to the Frozen Frost set—the silver-white and ice-blue long dress trailed on the ground, the earrings dangled beside her cheeks, and her bracelet and necklace shimmered with a cool, frosty luster in the sunlight. With every movement of her skirt, the frost flower patterns lit up with a delicate, sparkling glow.
The moment she entered the courtyard, the surrounding temperature dropped noticeably. A paper-thin layer of white frost condensed along the edges of the peach blossom petals at the corner of the stone table. As the wind brushed past her, it carried a crisp, biting chill.
Qi Yan stared at her for three full breaths, his gaze sweeping from the top of her head down to the hem of her dress, before stopping at her empty right hand—she should have been holding something there, but he did not ask.
“Your dharma robe,” he spoke, his voice slightly deeper than before, “is of very high quality.”
Lin Zhiyue nodded and walked over to stand by the stone table. Folding her hands in front of her, she bowed properly. “Master.”
When she uttered the word, her heart skipped a beat. Having called people teacher, advisor, and professor for over twenty years in her previous life, the word “Master” felt a bit novel on her tongue, yet surprisingly, it didn't feel too awkward.
Qi Yan let out an “Mm” in acknowledgment. He sheathed his saber, set it on the table, and looked up at her. “Have you said your goodbyes to your family?”
“Yes,” Lin Zhiyue replied. “A message was enough.”
She stood there for a moment longer, suddenly feeling that just standing around like this was a bit inappropriate.
She couldn't show up empty-handed for a formal discipleship. In her previous life, she had at least brought a box of pastries when meeting her academic advisor for the first time.
But as she searched through her earrings and system space, all she had were the unequipped accessories of the Mist-shrouded Verdure, the other pieces of the Ode to the Frozen Frost, dry rations, a water skin, a few miscellaneous journals bought by the roadside, and a gray-quality cotton handkerchief—not a single presentable item.
After a brief thought, she pinged the system in her mind: “The duplicate Flowing Fire and Scarlet Stars hairpin from earlier—what was its effect again?”
The system popped up a line of small text: 【Flowing Fire and Scarlet Stars: Crimson Flame Hairpin. Quality: Purple. Effect: Withstands a full-strength blow from a Soul Transformation Stage cultivator. Upon activation, the hairpin will shatter and cannot be repaired.】
Lin Zhiyue's eyes lit up. Withstanding a full-strength blow from a Soul Transformation Stage cultivator. That meant a full-power strike from someone of Qi Yan's level. While it might sound like a niche item that one would likely never need in a lifetime, when it came down to a life-or-death situation, it was equivalent to an extra life.
“Can I choose not to convert this hairpin into points and give it to someone instead?” she asked. “Just act as if I never pulled this duplicate.”
The system went silent for a few seconds, uncharacteristically not rejecting her immediately: 【The host has performed exceptionally well in this mission. A one-time exception is approved. The Flowing Fire and Scarlet Stars: Crimson Flame Hairpin has been retrieved from the points pool and can be used as a gift. This is a one-time exception, not to be repeated.】
Lin Zhiyue chuckled inwardly. With a flick of her fingers, the long, crimson hairpin adorned with stardust slipped from the system space into her palm.
The hairpin was slender and entirely crimson, like a burning flame. Its surface was embedded with fine, golden specks of stardust. The moment she brought it out, it radiated a warm aura, forming a stark contrast with the biting cold surrounding her Ode to the Frozen Frost set.
She held the hairpin out over the stone table with both hands, keeping her tone as natural as possible. “Master, as this is our first formal meeting, I don't have many grand things to offer. This hairpin is an heirloom passed down through my family. Wearing it can block a single full-strength strike from a Soul Transformation Stage expert. Although it is a feminine style, you could... keep it in your robes as a protective talisman.”
Qi Yan's gaze fell upon the crimson hairpin. He paused for a moment, then looked up at her.
Something stirred slightly within those deep black eyes.
He did not refuse. Reaching out, he took the hairpin. His long fingers turned the hairpin over to examine it. When his fingertips brushed against the golden specks of stardust on the surface, he seemed to sense the sealed aura within, and his brow twitched almost imperceptibly.
“This item,” he said, “was passed down by your ancestors?”
“Yes,” Lin Zhiyue replied without batting an eye. “My family passed down a lot of random odds and ends, and this is one of them.”
Qi Yan glanced at her but did not pry further. He slipped the hairpin into his sleeve, his movements very gentle, as if afraid of chipping or scratching it.
Then, he bent down and pulled out a palm-sized wooden box from beneath the stone table, sliding it across the tabletop toward her.
“Open it and take a look.”
Lin Zhiyue took it and lifted the lid. Inside lay a thin jade slip, translucent and pure white, its surface densely carved with ancient seal script.
She sent her divine sense inside to sweep over it briefly, and her pupils contracted slightly. Recorded within was a Heaven Grade cultivation technique, 《Wind and Frost Void-Returning Formula》. It was a dual cultivation method for both the wind and ice attributes, perfectly matching her spiritual root attributes. Moreover, once mastered, it could summon the wind and frost of heaven and earth, condensing energy into a domain where everything within a hundred-yard radius would be at her command.
A Heaven Grade cultivation technique. In the entire Sanglan Realm, the sects capable of producing a Heaven Grade manual could be counted on one hand, yet Qi Yan had casually pulled this scroll out from beneath a table as part of his personal collection.
Lin Zhiyue looked up at him.
Qi Yan had already picked up his saber and placed it back on his lap, as if giving away a Heaven Grade manual was a trivial matter not worth mentioning. Keeping his eyes lowered, he wiped the dark patterns on the hilt and said indifferently, “Keep it. If there is anything you do not understand, come and ask me.”
Peach blossoms drifted down from the tree onto the stone table, a single pink-and-white petal blown by the wind to rest at the edge of the jade slip. Lin Zhiyue closed the wooden box, stored it away, stood up, and bowed deeply once more.
“Thank you, Master.”
As she walked out of the courtyard, his low voice echoed behind her: “We set out for Tiance Palace tomorrow. Gather at the north gate at the hour of Mao.”
Lin Zhiyue acknowledged him, her pace steady.
As the courtyard door closed behind her, she caught a glimpse of Qi Yan pulling the crimson hairpin from his sleeve. He looked at it in his palm for a brief moment before tucking it into the inner folds of his robes.
She withdrew her gaze, the corners of her lips curving up as she turned to walk out of the alley. Her silver-white and ice-blue skirt swept across the bluestone path, leaving a faint, ethereal trail of frosty light in her wake.
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