Chapter 109: It Was Never About Seeking Fairness

“I don’t know the specifics,” Pu Hanzhong said, shaking his head with a sigh. “I only heard that she was the Sect Master’s own Legacy Disciple, with a Brown Seed, and that she violated the sect’s rules. In the end, the Sect Master personally suppressed her in Jie Prison.”

Qin Haoxuan drew a sharp breath. Before his generation, the sect had another strong seed besides the Sect Master’s own son? And she had been imprisoned by the Sect Master himself?

He had always felt that the sect’s rules had loopholes, that they were too lenient on those with colored seeds. It was a fact that had always bothered him. But in that moment, he had a flash of self-awareness. The real reason it bothered him was simply because he wasn’t one of them; he wasn’t the one enjoying the privilege.

But now, hearing this story, his perception of the Sect Master changed. A Brown Seed, the former hope for the sect’s future, had been imprisoned for breaking the rules. Wasn’t he afraid that losing her would weaken the sect? This Sect Master… he was no ordinary man.

“There’s no point in dwelling on such things,” Pu said, looking at him. “The only thing you need to do now is cultivate and try to grow a leaf before the tournament. Only then will I be able to rest easy.”

“Even if I grow a leaf after the tournament, it’s no big deal,” Qin Haoxuan said, forcing a casual tone, though a knot of worry tightened in his stomach when he saw the vacant look in his senior brother’s eyes. “Didn’t you tell me not to rush for quick results?”

Pu Hanzhong just coughed, his brow furrowed. “You must cultivate diligently,” he repeated, his voice heavy. “Only by advancing your realm can you extend your lifespan. That is the foundation of a cultivator.” With that, he turned and left.

Qin Haoxuan watched his retreating figure, then shook his head, trying to clear the worries from his mind. He went back to his room, swallowed a packet of Qi-Circulating Powder, and began to meditate. A massive, basin-sized vortex of spiritual energy formed above his head, frantically pulling in the ambient Qi from the surroundings.

“Dammit, he’s taking that powder again!”

“What a waste. Doesn’t he understand that even if he eats it every day, he’ll never catch up to a Purple Seed?”

“What are you complaining about? He has a good relationship with Xu Yu. We can’t even buy that stuff with spirit stones. He eats it every day, and a single packet costs two hundred stones. My heavens…”

“And he’s still not growing a leaf. It’s useless on him.”

The neighboring disciples were sick with jealousy, watching as the spiritual energy they considered their own was sucked into his room. The thought of him consuming a two-hundred-stone powder every day without any visible progress was agonizing.

Their gossip did not reach Qin Haoxuan. His mind was as still as water, focused entirely on absorbing the spiritual energy and nourishing his Immortal Sprout. Three hours later, he exhaled a long breath.

It’s a good thing I have enough of this essence, he thought, looking at the high-grade ruined pills on his table. It’s the only reason my power is growing so quickly. But it’s so frustrating. I can feel my spiritual energy becoming thicker and more powerful every day, yet I still can’t grow a single damn leaf.

He got up, feeling full of energy, and picked up a ruined pill, preparing to practice the Art of Essence Extraction.

In the past month, he had already reached the third level of the art, a feat only matched by his master, Xuanji. But he was still unable to penetrate the secrets of the highest-grade pills from the valley. Do I need to reach the theoretical fourth level? he wondered.

With the tournament just eight days away, he decided to refine enough powder to last him until then, so he could focus entirely on cultivation. He then began to practice the Hand-Blade Art. Senior Brother said that as a cultivator, I’m beyond the reach of mortal martial arts, he mused.

Just how strong am I? He gathered his spiritual energy, and his hand became as sharp as a blade, slicing through a wooden table and a brick with ease. He then found a piece of rusted, common iron on the floor. With a casual swipe, he cut it in two as if it were tofu.

A crazy thought then entered his mind. Guyun tested my body’s toughness. If I use my own hand-blade on myself, will it cut me? He hesitated for a moment, then tried. The blade made a harsh scraping sound against his left arm but didn’t leave so much as a scratch. His body was indeed harder than iron.

For the next few days, he cultivated relentlessly, but by the night before the tournament, he still hadn’t grown a leaf. “That’s it for tonight,” he decided. “I need to rest and be at my peak for tomorrow.”

In the Dianjing Pavilion, the residence of the Master of the Ancient Cloud Hall, Guyun sat in silent contemplation, his hall lit by a single, massive night-luminescent pearl.

“Disciple Yan Dong pays his respects to the Hall Master!”

Led by a guide, Yan Dong entered the sacred residence for the first time, his heart a mixture of excitement and terror.

“Rise,” Guyun’s deep voice rumbled. His eyes, which seemed to see into the very soul of a person, were fixed on him. “Look at me.”

Yan Dong raised his head and met his master’s gaze. He felt as if he had been pierced by a sword. “I hear,” Guyun said, “that you’ve been challenged by Pu Hanzhong of the Nature Hall, and by the new disciple, Qin Haoxuan.”

“Yes, yes…” Yan Dong stammered, a cold sweat breaking out on his back.

“And how are your preparations?” Guyun’s voice softened slightly. “Sit.”

“Thank you, Hall Master.” Yan Dong perched on the very edge of a chair, his posture more uncomfortable than standing.

(End of Chapter)