Chapter Sixteen: Everything Happens for a Reason

Ling Qiqi saw Ling Xiaozi and Kong Mingzi standing together atop the high dais, and the muffled sound of thunder rumbled on without end. She thought to herself, Kong Mingzi must be trying to demonstrate his superiority. Girls always possess a keen, almost instinctive awareness of their romantic rivals; the very first time Ling Qiqi climbed Kong Ming Peak in search of her senior brother, she realized the master of that mountain bore an intense dislike toward her. Even if Kong Mingzi wasn’t a rival in love in the most literal sense, he was undoubtedly a massive obstacle on her path to true love.

Coupled with Chi Xiaoxiao’s odd, brainwashing comments, Ling Qiqi couldn’t help but begin measuring herself against Kong Mingzi by a whole new standard. It didn’t take long for her to realize, with some dismay, that Kong Mingzi’s cultivation was vastly superior, he seemed more intelligent than her, and even his appearance—surely the least important quality—was more attractive than hers.

No wonder Senior Brother Ling Xiaozi would retreat to Kong Ming Peak to recover from his injuries rather than remain on the main mountain and let her care for him. It must be that, in every comparison, she could not outshine Kong Mingzi. Convinced she had found the answer, faced with the harsh reality of being utterly outclassed, Ling Qiqi was not deterred in the least. Instead, she discovered a new direction for her efforts.

Fearlessly, Ling Qiqi fixed her gaze on Kong Mingzi on the high dais, showing no sign of withdrawing even a single one of the countless little hearts she had sent his way. After all, he was a senior in the sect; with so many eyes upon them, she could not openly provoke him, so she silently declared in her heart: I’m not afraid of you! One day, I’ll cultivate until I become a mighty being who can cover the sky with a single hand, and I’ll smash anyone who tries to stand between me and my senior brother—just wait and see!

The little uncle had no understanding of a young girl’s thoughts, nor did he care what this girl was thinking. In short, he never gave Ling Qiqi a second thought, finding her simply and utterly annoying.

Yun Ting came from a distinguished background. His parents, both members of an immortal sect, had grown weary of the monotony of their lives and snuck away to roam the mortal world. On their travels, they met the young Ming couple; the four became fast friends, their bond deep and sincere.

Later, the Yun couple were forcibly summoned back by their sect. Unwilling to see their child condemned to the same dull destiny of cultivation as themselves, they entrusted their newborn son, just past his hundred-day feast, to the care of Ming Shuang’s parents.

When Yun Ting turned three, his parents reappeared, claiming to have struck a bargain with the elders of their sect: they would become merchants, ferrying magical artifacts and pills between the various immortal sects, in exchange for the freedom to live as they pleased among mortals.

But reality proved them no match for those wily old foxes. Though the elders promised them freedom, in truth, the couple spent their years rushing about between sects, busy with business and rarely home. Young Yun Ting hardly saw his parents from one year's end to the next.

Thus, Yun Ting felt little kinship with his biological parents and regarded himself as a true member of the Ming family. He showed the utmost respect to the Ming couple and treated Ming Shuang as his own brother.

Madam Ming once warned Yun Ting that, during Ming Shuang’s hundred-day feast, a fortune-teller had predicted the boy would grow up stubborn and straight-laced, and would attract all kinds of troublesome romantic entanglements. She charged Yun Ting to keep a close eye on him.

Yun Ting, ever obedient to his benefactress, swore to cut down every troublesome peach blossom in Ming Shuang’s path. From Madam Wang, who sold melons on the next street, to the tiniest, toddling girls in the neighborhood, any female was a potential threat in Yun Ting’s eyes and a target for his vigilance.

As the fortune-teller foretold, Ming Shuang grew ever more upright and principled. He thought Yun Ting’s daily harassment of women and children was beyond reason and once said he would sever all ties with Yun Ting—so their childhood friendship was broken.

Later, both joined Qingyu Sect in search of the Dao. Ming Shuang sought to cultivate virtue and aid the weak; Yun Ting’s purpose was to look after Ming Shuang for Madam Ming’s sake, though Ming Shuang himself wanted none of it.

With the Dao name Ling Xiaozi, Ming Shuang devoted himself entirely to cultivation, shedding all ties to the mundane world. He practiced with diligence, observed every rule, treated every sister in the sect with gentle courtesy but kept them at arm’s length.

Yun Ting was optimistic that Ling Xiaozi would remain that cold and unapproachable gentleman forever—until Lin He brought dire news from divination, and then Ling Qiqi appeared, returning with a Ling Xiaozi half-dead from the Demon Lord’s assault.

The ill-fated peach blossom the fortune-teller spoke of seemed to have finally bloomed.

—

“I’m perfectly calm right now. Get out of my way,” the little uncle said, looking at Ergou, who was tugging at his sleeve. Whether this fellow was truly Ling Xiaozi from before or not, he could not allow him to be ruined by a bunch of messy women.

Seeing that Ling Qiqi had no intention of relenting, the little uncle flicked away the sleeve Ming Shuang was grasping. Instantly, hundreds of bolts of lightning crashed down from the black clouds that had been suppressing a wild thunderstorm. The blinding flash forced the crowd to shield their eyes, and then came a roar of thunder, like a tidal wave, threatening to shatter the very sky.

All the little hearts in the sky burst at once, and rain began to pour.

Yet the lightning did not cease. After scattering the hearts of water, the bolts twisted together of their own accord, converging in the heavens until they formed a giant thunderbird beating its wings.

Chi Xiaoxiao was the first to sense the killing intent laced within the storm. Instinct told him disaster was imminent, so he grabbed Ling Qiqi and fled. But the thunderbird seemed to have eyes of its own, relentlessly chasing after Ling Qiqi and drawing ever closer.

“Damn it, Kong Mingzi clearly wants you dead! Isn’t the Elder in charge going to do anything?” Chi Xiaoxiao cursed, dodging and weaving with Ling Qiqi in tow. He longed to fight back, but feared revealing his identity, so he was caught in a passive and perilous situation.

On the arena, Cheng Yu was first soaked to the bone by the sudden thunderstorm, then watched as the little devil and the violent girl were hunted by the thunderbird. He was more confused than ever by how things were developing.

The little uncle had neither time nor patience for such games. Sensing his master’s intent, the thunderbird let out a piercing cry and transformed into a streak of lightning, darting straight for the desperate Ling Qiqi.

At last, Daoist Pingxu could bear it no longer. Frowning, he rose to his feet. He had thought Kong Mingzi was merely teasing the girl, but now he saw his taciturn junior brother meant to kill her.

“That’s enough—!” The voice echoed like the bell of an ancient temple, and a powerful spiritual pressure swept over the arena without restraint, forcing the less experienced disciples to their knees.

For the first time, Ming Shuang experienced the true might of the Sect Master. In that instant, he felt as if a pair of invisible hands gripped him tight. He could not breathe; primal fear overwhelmed him, like a lamb pursued by wolves on the plain—no matter how he struggled, his fate was to be brought down and devoured. Ming Shuang tried to hold on, but his strength failed him and he collapsed, knees buckling beneath him.

The little uncle reached out, intent on supporting Ming Shuang, but before he could touch him, the amplified pressure forced him half to his knees. He met the Sect Master’s gaze and, gritting his teeth, forced himself tremblingly upright once more.

Sensing its master in danger, the thunderbird dissipated, returning to pure spiritual energy and flowing back into Yun Ting’s body, allowing him to stand again.

“Kong Mingzi, there is a limit to everything,” Daoist Pingxu rebuked coldly.

Yun Ting said nothing, silently meeting the Sect Master’s gaze. Though weighed down by a force that bent his back, he refused to yield, confronting the Sect Master in silent defiance.

Chi Xiaoxiao saw Ling Qiqi had narrowly escaped disaster. Looking around at the kneeling crowd, he noticed Ling Qiqi too had collapsed from exhaustion and the pressure, and he promptly lay down beside her, panting for breath.

The two on the arena could easily be called the most unfortunate contestants in this year’s newcomer tournament. So many unexpected events had broken out, and now both lay prostrate on the ground, utterly defeated.

“Brother, I think I’ll just concede in a moment. First thunder, then divine wrath from the sky—what is going on here?” Cheng Yu’s opponent, still bound by vines around his feet, now lay in a bizarrely alluring heap, his face the very picture of despair.

—

Cheng Yu managed a slight nod, agreeing to his opponent’s offer of surrender.

The early spring wind still carried a chill. The disciples, already drenched by the rain, now shivered under its touch; a few frailer junior sisters even sneezed loudly several times.

The Sect Master, moved by pity at the sight of these wind- and rain-battered youngsters, suddenly realized just how stubborn his reclusive little junior was—defiant enough to stand under his own spiritual pressure. If neither he nor his junior gave an inch, it was the disciples below who would suffer.

“Sigh. I always knew my junior brother was otherworldly, but I never expected him to be so proud,” Daoist Pingxu sighed and withdrew the pressure. Instantly, the air filled with relieved gasps.

Yun Ting staggered but quickly steadied himself, then hurried to help Ming Shuang to his feet.

“Huff... Are you all right?” The little uncle leaned against Ming Shuang, whispering softly in his ear.

Ming Shuang sensed a weariness in his uncle’s tone that he could not describe. He quickly grasped his uncle’s hand and found it slick with sweat.

Before Ming Shuang could speak, his uncle closed his eyes and collapsed bonelessly against him. Ming Shuang caught him in his arms, feeling the dampness of sweat-soaked robes on his back.

At that moment, Lin He, missing for some time, reappeared. Taking in the kneeling and prone disciples, he was momentarily afraid the sect was under attack by the Demon Cult, if not for the Sect Master standing calmly atop the dais.

Lin He trotted up the dais, and when he saw Kong Mingzi unconscious in Ling Xiaozi’s arms, he was so startled he could only stammer for a long while before managing a complete sentence.

“What happened here?” Lin He asked, looking toward Ling Xiaozi, who appeared utterly dazed. At a loss, his gaze shifted to Daoist Pingxu.

The Sect Master explained, “Just now, Junior Brother Kong Mingzi withstood my spiritual pressure for the span of a cup of tea.”

“He didn’t kneel? He lasted a whole cup of tea?” Lin He’s eyelid twitched, and he drew an incredulous conclusion.

Seeing the Sect Master shake his head, then nod, Lin He quickly sent out a strand of spiritual sense to probe Kong Mingzi’s core. After a long while, he turned back to Daoist Pingxu with a complicated expression and reported, “Sect Master, Kong Mingzi’s cultivation has reached Nascent Soul stage.”