The sun was setting in the west, another evening, with only three days left until the Sect Grand Competition.
Mu Zhiming, as usual, held her Wooden Sword and transformed her sword stances in the air in an instant, continuously striking Chen Miao across from her.
After months of practice, her Spiritual Energy Positioning had become increasingly proficient.
Though she couldn’t guarantee she’d perform this well against opponents of the same level, it was more than enough to handle ordinary Foundation Establishment Cultivators.
She even had spare time to “sneak a peek” at Ji Wangshu beside her while sparring with Chen Miao.
To be precise, she was flaring her nostrils, “sniffing” in that direction.
Following the unique exotic floral scent that only Ji Wangshu carried, she saw him sitting alone on a stone bench in the corner, a Cultivation Technique Manual resting on his knees.
Today’s reading was related to Sword Techniques. Although his Four-Element Spiritual Root aptitude couldn’t cultivate it, he could still understand it.
This was also why Sect Master Liu Fuyao had agreed when Mu Zhiming proposed letting Ji Wangshu read the Cultivation Technique Manuals and then explain them to her.
He had been reading all afternoon and understood most of it. Setting it down, he furrowed his brow slightly.
“So this is one of the sect’s most powerful Sword Technique manuals? Something still feels off…”
Ji Wangshu pondered inwardly, lifting his head to look at Mu Zhiming, just catching her turned head facing him through the Black Eye Veil.
“Seems this Eye Veil works pretty well. When the senior sisters face Wooden nowadays, their expressions aren’t nearly as scared.”
He thought to himself, then carefully observed Mu Zhiming’s sword stances, feeling they were several degrees sharper than usual.
The Daoist robe on Chen Miao across from him had already been torn to shreds by the Wooden Sword, and she looked like she could barely hold on.
“Sure enough, this so-called Immortal Sect might actually not even be as strong as the Yixiu Sect my master founded. Not only are their ultimate Sword Techniques mediocre, even this basic entry-level swordplay has several flaws.”
“And since the strongest person in the Immortal Sect is Nascent Soul Sect Master Liu Fuyao… then that means my cheap master…”
Wouldn’t she be two stories tall?
When Ji Wangshu reached this conclusion, his heart jolted, his mouth involuntarily falling open in silent astonishment.
On the Plaza, the female cultivators were bustling about, Sword Light flashing in all directions and Spiritual Power flowing freely, so naturally no one paid attention to this sound.
But Mu Zhiming noticed.
The Wooden Sword in her hand paused, and she stopped attacking, looking toward the source of the sound—Ji Wangshu.
Chen Miao across from her felt a surge of joy, thinking she’d found an opening, and instantly followed up with a strike—but Mu Zhiming easily dodged it, leaving her face full of frustration.
Mu Zhiming treated Chen Miao as if she didn’t exist. Releasing her Spiritual Sense, she sensed the Spiritual Power fluctuations within Ji Wangshu’s body. His Spiritual Power was churning violently, as if he’d just experienced tremendous shock.
Her pupils behind the Black Eye Veil stared silently in that direction, and unbidden, her mind drifted back to a scene from just a few incense sticks ago.
…
A few incense sticks earlier, inside the Sect Hall.
“I don’t know. Never heard of it.”
Mu Zhiming said to Su Qingyue beside her.
She spat out those six words in one breath, her expression indifferent and her tone icy cold.
Su Qingyue could also tell something was off with her junior sister Mu. Though she was always cold-toned in the past, she would still be relatively calm and gentle when facing her and Master Liu Fuyao.
Not like now, as if she were treating her like an enemy.
Though it was true that she was the one who posed the greatest threat to Mu Zhiming in the Sect Grand Competition.
“Oh, alright.”
Su Qingyue nodded in acknowledgment and didn’t press further, though her eyes narrowed slightly.
Since Mu Zhiming clearly knew something but didn’t want to say it, she wouldn’t force it. As long as that masculine man remained in the sect, she would eventually find him.
“…Mm.”
Mu Zhiming’s tone softened considerably. Her grip on the Flying Sword loosened slightly, then she casually asked, as if she didn’t care at all:
“Senior Sister Su, where did you see him…?”
“I’ll keep an eye out for you too…”
Su Qingyue was slightly startled, unsure of Mu Zhiming’s intentions.
She stroked her chin, thought for a moment, and decided there was nothing to hide about this matter anyway. Many people had seen her that day, so she replied:
“In the Market Town. The shopkeeper at the Treasure Pavilion saw him too.”
“Oh… alright.”
Mu Zhiming nodded, lowering her Eye Veil, her expression growing even colder.
The Treasure Pavilion. Of all places…
Not only had they swindled Ji Wangshu out of 1200 Spirit Stones before, now they’d told Su Qingyue about his whereabouts…
At the thought, she let out a cold snort, committed the Treasure Pavilion to memory, and swept away with her sleeves fluttering.
…
“Senior Sister Wooden, still training?”
Back on the Plaza, Mu Zhiming withdrew her thoughts, “looked” at Chen Miao in front of her, and then “looked” at the sky.
Through the Black Eye Veil, the setting sun on the horizon appeared as a ring of deep orange in the center, hazed with a faint ring of black around the edges.
“…Train.”
Chen Miao’s face fell instantly, looking like she was about to cry but couldn’t.
Ji Wangshu watched the two of them spar again, resting his elbow on his knee, propping his cheek on his palm, and letting out a yawn.
These past months of spending every day with Wooden had completely corrected his nocturnal habits. Now, whenever the early spring sunlight fell on him in the afternoon, he became incredibly drowsy.
“Junior Brother Ji, do you have a moment?”
Suddenly a woman’s voice woke Ji Wangshu. He turned his head and saw a woman wearing the Daoist robe of an Inner Disciple, her fingers clasped behind her back, looking nervous.
Behind her followed four or five female disciples glancing over in his direction. When they saw him look at them, they all turned their heads away, pretending to chat.
“Oh, yeah, I’m free. What’s up?”
“It’s like this—we saw you reading Sword Technique manuals here every day, and occasionally you’d even offer Senior Sister Wooden some pointers. We were wondering if you could help clear up some doubts we have about Sword Techniques…”
Ji Wangshu rubbed his nose, recalling that he had indeed done that a couple days ago, so he agreed.
“Sure, let me see what you’ve got.” With that, he glanced past her toward the ones behind her and lifted his chin in their direction. “You junior sisters in the back should come up too.”
The female disciples exchanged glances, joy dancing in their eyes.
They were all ordinary Inner Disciples who rarely had opportunities to interact with elders or the Sect Master.
A few days ago, they’d seen Ji Wangshu—despite being just a Pseudo Spiritual Root brought back by Senior Sister Wooden—reading Sword Technique manuals for the blind senior sister and even occasionally giving her pointers. They’d long wanted to ask for his guidance.
“Junior Brother Ji, take a look at mine first!”
Immediately, the female cultivator who’d first approached eagerly began demonstrating her moves in the empty space beside them.
The women who’d been pretending to chat also hurried closer, surrounding Ji Wangshu, chattering away.
In an instant, this normally deserted corner of the Plaza was taken over by the twittering junior sisters. The faint fragrance of the women’s bodies drifted through the spring breeze.
The women were all female and long accustomed to such scents—only a man, or someone with an extremely sensitive sense of smell, would notice this faint fragrance.
As it happened, Mu Zhiming was the latter.
In that instant, while executing her sword stances, she turned her head toward the source of the fragrance. In her vision, the stone bench that had held a single person now had several vertical lines surrounding that round stone bench.
Her brows beneath the black veil grew colder by a few degrees. Her Wooden Sword blocked Chen Miao’s horizontal strike, then Spiritual Power condensed at the sword tip in the next moment. Without even lifting her head, two sword intents shot out in all directions!
“Shush!”
The fierce sword intents struck the ground at the feet of Ji Wangshu and the women, leaving shallow pitted marks and kicking up small pebbles that landed in empty spaces.
Ji Wangshu and the women all froze, lifting their eyes toward Mu Zhiming.
“Sorry… please continue.”
The women breathed a sigh of relief and resumed their sword stances, occasionally casting questioning looks at Ji Wangshu.
Ji Wangshu, however, drew in a sharp breath.
These senior sisters didn’t normally spar with Wooden, so they naturally had no idea what level her Spiritual Power control and sword stances had reached.
He trained with her every day using a wooden sword. Even with her eyes covered and no Spiritual Power released, she could keep the blade flush against his, spar for an entire afternoon, and never once injure his wrist.
That level of skill—he couldn’t do it, and little junior sister Mo Chuhua couldn’t either.
And yet, now you’re telling him that someone with that level of sword control would deliberately miss?
Not to mention the scattered stones landing precisely in empty areas rather than on the women’s embroidered shoes.
He was the first to not believe it.
But since he’d just agreed to guide the women, he couldn’t exactly back out now. Trapped between a rock and a hard place, all he could do was—
“Mm-hmm.” “No, no, it’s like this.” “Yeah, yeah, that’s right.”—answering so perfunctorily.
Half a cup of tea later, the women wore satisfied expressions as they stood beside him.
The one who’d first approached hesitated for a moment, then carefully asked again:
“Can we come ask you again next time? Junior Brother Ji…”
“Swish swish!”
Two more fierce sword intents struck the ground at everyone’s feet.
Except this time, they left deep pitted craters, sending countless blue stones flying up to pound heavily against the women’s Cloud-Pattern Embroidered Shoes.
“Ow!”
The women furrowed their brows and scurried aside to dodge.
“Sorry, I’m blind. Can’t control it well…”
Ji Wangshu raised his eyes in terror, not daring to look directly at Mu Zhiming, only sneaking glances while listening to the indifferent voice that came from her crimson lips.
Seeing this, the women didn’t dare say another word and scattered like birds, fleeing from beside Ji Wangshu’s stone bench.
Chen Miao in the distance had witnessed it all. After the women left, seeing that Mu Zhiming showed no sign of picking up the Wooden Sword again, she crept closer and whispered beside her:
“Wooden, have you noticed… you’ve been a bit…”
She paused, as if searching for a word that wouldn’t be too blunt, then said, “…emotional lately.”
Like a cold wind blowing across an icy surface, ripples spread across Mu Zhiming’s face as her brows furrowed slightly. “Have I…”
Chen Miao was about to reply when a majestic woman’s voice rang out from the air, landing upon the three of them in the corner.
“Wooden, come to the Sect Hall.”
“You two, leave for now.”
At the front of the Plaza before the hall, Liu Fuyao stood there, her face carrying authority without needing to show anger, her gaze lingering on Ji Wangshu—the last one—for several breaths.