Chapter Eighteen: Exquisite and Truly Beautiful

The Daoist Pingxu, having hastily departed the arena, flew to Guiyun Peak and wandered about, eventually discovering the rumored former sect leader in seclusion within the bamboo grove. Elder Changyan was, at that moment, lying on a stone bed in the forest, taking his afternoon nap.

"Master, my junior brother has reached the Nascent Soul stage—how could you not tell me?" Pingxu approached and shook his master awake, asking.

Daoist Changyan rubbed his eyes impatiently and waved his hand, telling Pingxu to get lost and not disturb his beauty sleep.

Pingxu, slighted by his own master, wore a look of grievance so pronounced that Changyan, squinting at him, lost all interest in further rest.

Rising from the stone bed, Changyan said to his current successor and least promising disciple, "With a face so square, you shouldn't look so pitiful—it just looks odd."

The square-faced Pingxu lost all his dreams.

"It's been a long time since I've seen Kong Mingzi. He's already at Nascent Soul? Remarkable. I was sixty before I reached that stage," the elder said, stretching and picking up the jade-bone folding fan left on the bed, deciding to check on his fostered prodigy.

"Where is Kong Mingzi now? How did you learn of his cultivation?" Changyan tied the long tassel of the fan to his belt and continued questioning.

"At the newcomer tournament, Kong Mingzi suddenly fainted. He should've been taken to Apricot Grove Peak by Lin He," Pingxu concealed his own culpability, giving a vague response.

Changyan nodded without comment, traced a circle in the air with his finger, and a half-spherical water orb appeared, its smooth surface reflecting his face. He glanced at his reflection, touched his cheeks, then scooped up a handful of water to wash his face.

After freshening up, he checked the water mirror again, scrutinized his reflection until satisfied, then waved his hand to dismiss the orb.

Once Changyan was ready, the master and disciple set off for Apricot Grove Peak. Upon arrival, they found Kong Mingzi asleep. Changyan sent his spiritual sense to probe the inner palace, confirming that his junior had indeed reached Nascent Soul, though his aura was unstable, as if from exhaustion.

"How did he faint?" Changyan asked Pingxu.

Under his master’s inquisitive gaze, Pingxu hesitated before finally admitting he was responsible.

Changyan regarded Pingxu with a peculiar expression, speculating, "Are you jealous of your junior's talent and youth?"

History repeats itself: the retired leader of Jade Gate and the striking elder of Crane Pavilion always thought alike.

The current sect leader waved his hands anxiously, his upright face earnest. "Master, let me explain. Kong Mingzi was about to kill a young girl on the field—I had no choice but to intervene."

"Really? Tell me, what kind of girl could provoke my most aloof and taciturn disciple?" Changyan clearly did not believe Pingxu’s story. Though he spent only ten days a year with Kong Mingzi, he knew him well.

When it came to his irresponsible master, Changyan’s impression of Kong Mingzi was that of a straightforward child—treat him kindly, and he will repay you tenfold, almost never bearing grudges.

Though Kong Mingzi was not adept at expressing himself verbally, and sometimes spoke sharply to those familiar, his actions always showed his regard for others.

The elder had taken Kong Mingzi as a disciple out of boredom after retirement. Apart from cooking for him before he learned fasting, Changyan had rarely fulfilled his duties as master. Later, finding child-rearing exhausting, he sent his junior to Kong Ming Peak and never heard a word of complaint.

Changyan was even more surprised that this fostered orphan not only harbored no resentment, but every few months brought immortal fruits to Guiyun Peak in filial tribute. Because of a casual admonition to cultivate diligently, Kong Mingzi rarely left his peak, spending each day in monotonous practice, his cultivation soaring at a terrifying rate.

Honestly, Changyan had never met such a simple-minded odd child before—let alone one who was a peerless talent. It was little wonder that true geniuses were often called eccentrics.

He could hardly believe Kong Mingzi would lose his temper and attempt murder.

Seeing the elder deeply skeptical, Pingxu hesitated before saying, "The girl is a new disciple, just twelve years old... She used Water Dragon Song in the match!"

The elder froze, his hand unconsciously reaching for the small shell-cloud trinket on his fan tassel, lost in thought for a long while.

"Perhaps it’s coincidence. Take care of Kong Mingzi; I’ll find Lin He in the pharmacy," Changyan said, opening his fan and fanning himself, then left without another word, leaving Pingxu to reflect in solitude.

The reappearance of Water Dragon Song stirred complex feelings in Changyan—delight, disappointment, and above all, memories of its creator.

Long ago, when Changyan was a mere hundred-year-old youth, newly appointed as sect leader, burning with ambition and zeal, he took on a host of disciples. Among them were the upright Pingxu, the inventor of Water Dragon Song Yunxia, and countless others drawn from distant lands.

Of all these disciples, Changyan most enjoyed ordering Pingxu about, while Yunxia was cherished above all. He was rather indifferent to the rest, adopting a laissez-faire approach that led many to leave the sect in frustration, indirectly contributing to the prosperity of cities surrounding Jade Gate.

Yunxia was strikingly beautiful, her eyes always brimming with emotion. Whenever she smiled, her eyes resembled crescent moons submerged in syrup, making Changyan feel he had found true love.

Jade Gate’s rules were strict yet relaxed—a place full of human warmth. By mundane standards, romance between master and disciple was taboo, but at Jade Gate, if two truly loved each other, few would object.

After several years, Changyan, confident in his charisma, carefully chose an auspicious day to confess his feelings to Yunxia.

The result: Yunxia fled Jade Gate that very night. Changyan, in anger and distress, sent all the birds of Crane Pavilion to search for her, only to discover she was last seen near Chuting, then vanished without trace.

Southern Yue’s Chuting was the infamous stronghold of the Demon Sect—an ordinary immortal venturing alone into enemy territory was doomed.

Changyan assumed he had driven his beloved disciple to despair and death, was wracked with guilt, resigned as sect leader, and appointed the dutiful Pingxu as his successor. He then secluded himself at Bamboo Grove Peak, renaming it Guiyun Peak to commemorate Yunxia.

Years later, these buried memories resurfaced. Changyan sighed, fanned away his melancholy, and resolved that if the new disciple capable of Water Dragon Song was truly Yunxia’s descendant, he would take her as his own disciple and care for her, as a form of atonement.

Changyan, fan in hand, ambled toward the pharmacy in the rear courtyard, meeting Chu Yi, who carried a basket of dried herbs. The two elders exchanged hard stares, as if in a contest of wits.

"Why has the vain old peacock come here? Didn't you say your tender nose can't stand the smell of herbs?" Crane Pavilion’s leader Chu Yi looked up and asked Changyan.

Changyan, exploiting his height to look down on the perpetually child-sized Crane, found satisfaction in his superiority and retorted, "I heard Chu San is alone handling all the birds at Crane Pavilion, overwhelmed and vowing to find his absentee elder brother and pluck him for braised crane."

Chu Yi shivered at the threat to his brother, but refused to show weakness before the preening elder. He grabbed a handful of herbs from the basket and tossed them at Changyan.

"These herbs will age your face thirty years overnight, ha!" Chu Yi bluffed, then dashed away, leaving Changyan trembling with rage.

Angry as he was, Changyan brushed the herbs from his hair, determined to ask Lin He for an antidote and instantly restored his elegant demeanor, heading for the pharmacy.

Just as he reached the door, he heard Lin He disparaging him, recounting his youthful escapades and romantic entanglements.

"You may as well continue, tell them all my youthful exploits," Changyan said, waving his fan, convinced he'd caught Lin He gossiping behind his back.

Lin He ignored him, instead pointing with a small fan and saying to another in the pharmacy, "Ling Xiaozi, see? This is your master’s master, the former leader of Jade Gate, also your grandmaster."

Ming Shuang, surprised to find the famed elder looked so young, studied his grandmaster closely, noticing the elder seemed to enjoy the attention, nearly ready to preen and display his feathers.

"Ling Xiaozi greets Grandmaster..." Ming Shuang dutifully saluted Changyan.

The grandmaster waved his fan, saying, "No need for courtesy. So you’re a disciple of Pingxu—handsome and elegant, not inferior to my younger self."

Ming Shuang twitched his lips, staying silent. His earlier impression of the grandmaster as serene was clearly mistaken—this was a peacock in scholar’s robes.

Lin He dismissed him openly, "Who knows which sixty-year-old Nascent Soul elder insists on using cultivation to restore his youth. Now this vain old man shamelessly parades before talented youths who formed their core as teenagers, boasting endlessly. He’s thick-skinned to match his wrinkles."

The peacock stroked his face, searching for nonexistent wrinkles, yearning to scowl but, remembering Chu Yi’s aging herbs, suppressed his emotions to maintain composure.

Changyan forced a smile and asked, "Did you invent some aging herbs? Where's the antidote?"

Unaware of Chu Yi's prank, Lin He replied, "No aging herbs exist, but I have medicine for shamelessness. Go bang your head on a big red pillar a couple times—it’s sure to restore your youthful beauty."