Master Qin sighed deeply.

Dongmen Qianyun picked up Lady Dongmen’s handkerchief from the ground. In her mind, she couldn’t help but recall the words her own mother had told her before leaving. Her mother had said that, after all, the First Lady was the only one whom the head of the Dongmen family had married with proper ceremony, while she herself didn’t have any official status. So she had repeatedly instructed Qianyun to treat the First Lady as her own mother.

But just like this time, every time Qianyun approached, she was met with cold indifference; her acts of filial piety were never accepted by the First Lady.

Meanwhile, Xie Wuji was enjoying himself immensely in the small cabin assigned to the Seventh Protector. The house was a standalone little place with a yard beside it. In the yard grew some melons and fruits, but since no one tended to them, they weren’t thriving.

In the yard, Xie Wuji found a watermelon. He went over, gave it a few taps, and heard a resonant thud—it was clear the watermelon was ripe. “Heh, what luck! I was just worried there wouldn’t be anything to drink here!” He laughed, plucked the melon, brought it inside, fetched a kitchen knife and cutting board, and began slicing.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” Xie Wuji called out.

It was none other than Hongliu, the one who had introduced Xie Wuji earlier. Hongliu entered, holding a quilt. “Well, aren’t you lucky? Second Miss is really looking out for you—she even told me to bring you a brand-new quilt!”

“Oh, it’s new?” Xie Wuji turned around. “Since you’re here, Brother Hongliu, don’t rush off. Have a slice of watermelon with me.”

“Where’d you get a watermelon, you rascal?” Hongliu went to the water jar, washed his hands with a wooden ladle, shook them dry, and picked up the largest slice. “My, look how red it is—perfectly ripe. Where’d you find this?”

“In the yard, I suppose my great-uncle planted it before he passed. It’s a pity I didn’t get to see him one last time. That’s a lifelong regret,” Xie Wuji said, shaking his head.

Hongliu bit into the watermelon with gusto, sat down on a bamboo stool, and said, mouth full, “This house belonged to your great-uncle for over thirty years. Take a look around, you might find an old letter or something. The old man was well-respected; everyone in the sect treated him with courtesy. Back when the Immortal Longevity Sect was at its peak, it had over a hundred thousand disciples, but the old man never put on airs. Whenever anyone hit a bottleneck in their cultivation, they’d come ask him for advice, and he’d always help.”

Hongliu seemed to recall bittersweet memories. He sighed, “I, your senior brother, barely made it to the Gold Core stage. I was stuck at a bottleneck for ten years and thought my path to cultivation was over—if not for the old man’s guidance. He said my five elements were yang, and that I needed to meditate for three hours at noon on the hottest day of summer, in the sunniest spot at Danxia Sect. I thought he was pulling my leg. But as I nearly fainted from heatstroke and dehydration, the bottleneck broke.”

His eyes turned red as he spoke. Xie Wuji, watching him, thought to himself that Hongliu was indeed a man of feeling.

“The old man even promised to find me a bride. That little sister Cuihua next door—she’s as pretty as a picture. The old man passed before he could arrange it. I’m no good at wooing girls, I…” Hongliu broke off, choked with emotion, and tears welled up in his eyes.

“Old Yang, enough. Since my grandmaster owed you a wife, I’ll find one for you someday,” Xie Wuji said, patting him on the shoulder. Hongliu’s full name was Yang Hongliu.

Xie Wuji laughed, “Honestly, I’ve never sweet-talked anyone in my life.” Of course, Xie Wuji was a master at it.

Yang Hongliu wiped his nose and eyes. “Listen, when you see Cuihua, don’t get any ideas. She’s mine!”

“Fine, I promise,” Xie Wuji replied generously.

Having eaten Xie Wuji’s watermelon and asked for his help, Yang Hongliu felt a little embarrassed. “Old Xie, you seem like a decent guy. Now that your great-uncle’s gone, what are you planning to do? Will you stay here, sort through his belongings, and then leave?”

Xie Wuji was stumped for a moment and sighed. “I’m not sure. There’s famine at home, and I’ve nowhere to return to. I’ll see how things go. If I can get a job, I’ll take it—there’s no sense in lingering here.”

“Danxia Sect is recruiting new disciples. There are even three openings for inner disciples. Of course, those must be at the Gold Core stage or above. If you’re not there yet, you can try for the outer sect. Outer disciples usually help manage the sect’s shops in the capital—enough to make a living. Many of them support their families and live quite comfortably,” Yang Hongliu explained, kindly.

Xie Wuji clasped his fists. “Thank you, brother, for looking out for me. I’ll consider it, but one must know one’s limitations. I’ll weigh my own abilities and decide accordingly.”

Yang Hongliu grinned. “Hey, one more thing I should warn you about.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t bully little Sister Dongmen. That girl’s had a hard life, and if not for First Senior Brother’s protection, she’d have been in trouble long ago,” Yang Hongliu said.

Xie Wuji was taken aback, but quickly smiled. “I know. Not only will I not bully her, I’ll protect her.”

“Good. It’s getting late. Make up your bed and rest early. Tomorrow morning, I’ll have someone show you around Danxia Sect,” Yang Hongliu said, preparing to leave.

Xie Wuji didn’t try to stop him; they would surely cross paths often in the days to come.

Though the sect boasted fifty or sixty thousand disciples, only about five thousand actually resided there. Of these, three hundred were inner disciples; the rest were outer disciples, most managing the sect’s shops in the capital or branches across the land. The members were scattered.

Yet, should trouble arise, all would assemble at a moment’s notice—over fifty thousand strong, a force rivaling the army of a nation.

Xie Wuji then wandered around the little cabin, inspecting both the interior and the exterior.

Inside, the shelves were lined with books—all handwritten by Old Master Qin. But they weren’t scriptures or secret manuals; instead, they were common tales from the mortal world. Every one Xie Wuji picked up seemed to be a short story or character sketch—quite odd.

But he wasn’t in the mood for stories. He set them aside, sat cross-legged on the bed, and began practicing the Undying Grip from the Phoenix Divine Art.

He rarely meditated for cultivation; this was his very first attempt. After many battles and travels, he felt he had reached a bottleneck, as if he were floating on a sea at its limit, and with just a lift of his head, he might break through.

He emptied his mind, even making a trip to the latrine to clear himself out, then set off to explore the path of cultivation.

As he delved deeper, suddenly a flash of inspiration struck his mind. In the muddled space within his body, a chicken flying here and there suddenly crowed.

Of course, it wasn’t a chicken, but the spirit of the Undying Bird. Now, the spirit had wholly submitted to Xie Wuji. He didn’t know why, but submission was submission—no need for reasons.

Nourished by the Undying Bird spirit, Xie Wuji felt his life reach a new peak; a spark of enlightenment flashed above his head, and he leapt two whole stages, arriving at the fifth tier of the Core Condensation stage!

Overjoyed, he quickly removed his armguards to examine his arms. Sure enough, the reddish haze had thickened, and his fists felt even stronger.

He burst out laughing, immensely pleased. But just as he rose, he felt his backside grow hot. Thinking he’d caught fire, he looked to see that the bed wasn’t burning. Then he noticed—the wooden boards of the bed had begun to heat up!

Xie Wuji quickly lifted the bedding. To his surprise, Master Qin Shou’s bed was actually a slab of blue stone, which was now growing hot, and there seemed to be writing etched upon its surface…