Yao Qi remembered Xi Ping’s handwriting. Though over a decade had passed, he still recognized it after a moment’s blankness.

For one thing, Xi Shiyong’s handwriting was sloppy and arrogant, ugly in a very distinctive way. And also…apart from the Latent Cultivation Temple, no other place would have forced Yao Qi to live with another person in a single compound, seeing him whether he wanted to or not.

His associations with his colleagues were indifferent. Everyone just got along on the surface. If he didn’t go out of his way to make friends with others, of course they wouldn’t deliver themselves to his doorstep.

Sad to say, in Yao Qi’s whole life, the only peers he had closely associated with were the two classmates who had shared the Qiu courtyard with him back at the Latent Cultivation Temple—and one of them was a regular visitor in his nightmares, his number of appearances second only to Luo Qingshi.

His own sister had explained the whole sequence of events to him without regard for importance, mapped out a detailed plan of action for him, as if afraid that an idiot like him would misunderstand something and ruin things, while his “nightmare” had written two pithy words.

Yao Qi took a deep breath, yet again rejoicing that a half-immortal body couldn’t get diarrhea.

He leaned against the door, closed his eyes and muttered irresolutely, then suddenly straightened up, quickly swept the things he usually used into his mustard seed, stuck a stealth talisman onto himself, snuck outside, and made straight for his only friend—the other classmate who had lived with him in the Qiu courtyard at the Latent Cultivation Temple, Chang Jun.

The year he had entered the Latent Cultivation Temple, Yao Qi had been only sixteen, just over the line for the Grand Selection’s age requirement, still a confused and timid half-grown child. Now over a decade had passed; he had at least reached the age of thirty. Though he hadn’t improved, at any rate his wits had slowly all grown in.

The Land of Turmoil was a single mountain occupied by four nations, with those great evil cultivators, the Three Heroes of Turmoil, next to them, eyeing them menacingly. The circumstances were unusually complicated. Never mind downgraded immortal tools; ordinary immortal tools that hadn’t undergone special encryption could easily be spied on. When conducting business, the southern mines’ cultivators took care to use special communication tools or Heavenly Questions as a precaution against being targeted by evil cultivators while transporting spiritual stones.

When the cultivators used their own communication devices to contact their families, they weren’t permitted to pepper in a single sentence that could reveal the situation at the mines. The personal letters of all the nations’ mines were practically semi-public; they could only be sent after undergoing inspection. In other words, the moment Empress Yao’s letter had come to Yao Qi’s hands, Great Wan’s mines, the surrounding friendly neighbors who were constantly spying, and the malignant evil cultivators hidden in the shadows had all known about it.

It was easy for Empress Yao to say that the mines were full of noble scions, that they would never permit rebels against the spiritual mountains to hold Xuanyin; but why hadn’t she thought—when had Great Wan’s “noble scions” ever belonged to the same family? And what about the other nations, and those three ascended spirit evil cultivators who had nearly seized the Lancang Mountains? In such a complicated situation, if he, Yao Qi, could figure out how to operate, would he still be doing odd jobs in the southern mines?

His sole remaining blood relation in the world hadn’t asked him once in fourteen years how he was doing in the southern mines, whether the work was hard. Now, with a single letter, she had turned this little half-immortal with his meager cultivation into a public target. If he didn’t run, what was he waiting for?

Xi Shiyong was the son of the “enemy,” arrogant and bossy; he hadn’t made the slightest positive impression.

But the Heavenly Question he had sent contained only a hasty warning and didn’t mention any request… In his whole life, Yao Qi had encountered too little friendship and too many requests.

“A-jie,” Yao Qi thought, “if only you’d gone through the motions, put down one sentence telling me to be careful, look after myself if things went wrong.”

Just one sentence.

Yao Qi had never been resolute. Just this once, he came to a prompt decision. While others were still digesting the information, struggling to confirm its source and veracity, two little half-immortals from the southern mines—Yao Qi and Chang Jun—furtively snuck out of the mining area, taking advantage of their familiarity with the terrain.

In Tao County, a person walked out of the reincarnation wood tree growing in Zhao Qindan’s little courtyard.

“Senior Tai Sui.”

Xi Ping: “…”

Under his mask, he sucked in a breath. He couldn’t answer, but he couldn’t not answer—thanks to that damn baldy of a Heartless Lotus, now that the incident in Jinping had gotten out, of the thousands of masks plastered to him, only a single layer of garlic skin remained; it would tear as soon as it was poked. It would all depend on when Zhao Qindan had time to collect the news.

He’d spent eight years pretending to be her elder, putting on the bearing of an enigmatic uncle and making her call him by a respectful form of address. He’d listened to Zhao Qindan mention “that classmate of mine who blew up half the Latent Cultivation Temple” several times while maintaining an air of propriety… Too awkward. How was he going to talk to her after this?

In her place, had he been Zhao Qindan, he would have spent a year cursing himself in the toilet bulletins.

Thus it is said that in human interactions, one must treat others with sincerity. Those who wear masks will sooner or later be exposed to public ridicule.

Fortunately, Yu Chang came to his rescue.

Yu Chang put down his teacup and said with a fake smile, “Grand Duke Tai Sui, we met so briefly in the South Sea, I didn’t even get a chance to say hello. Hope you’ve been well.”

Xi Ping put himself between Zhao Qindan and Yu Chang and made an obscure gesture towards her behind his back. Then, smiling, he said, “Quite well, thanks to you.”

Zhao Qindan understood and remained calm. At the same time, she couldn’t resist taking another look at Tai Sui—Tai Sui was very strange today, not as reserved as usual. Even his voice was slightly higher by half a key. Spiritual image masks were ineffective in Tao County, so every time he appeared, he would be scrupulously made up. But today, he had only casually stuck a mass-produced mask over his face…the kind of fox mask children wore for the Lantern Festival.

It was as if he were drunk.

Hearing the words “thanks to you,” Yu Chang’s eyes became even redder. “You borrowed something from me before, Grand Duke, and said in the South Sea that you would return it. I wonder if you meant what you said?”

Xi Ping readily consented: “Yes!”

Then he plopped down without any apparent intention of taking out the Discard the False and Keep the True book. Yu Chang stared in dismay for ages at the repulsive fox mask. His mild and refined smile nearly faltered. Finally, at the end of his endurance, he said, “So where is my vital weapon?”

Xi Ping grabbed a handful of melon seeds. “I said last time I was going to return it. I didn’t say when I was going to return it. Yu Chang-xiong, wasn’t there something you wanted from me? Why don’t we have a nice chat first and see. Maybe you’ll agree to lend me the book for a little while longer.”

Yu Chang: “…”

With his eyes that seemed to be stained with pigeon’s blood, this great evil cultivator glared at him for a long moment, then said with emphasis, “I never would have thought that that gentleman’s teachings could have produced an incongruous ‘genius’ like you, Tai Sui-xiong.”

Zhao Qindan, listening in, thought to herself, “That gentleman? Which of Xuanyin’s inner sect elders? Why does this evil cultivator know Tai Sui’s lineage?”

“To my shame,” Xi Ping said magnanimously, smiling, “I am altogether a self-made genius when it comes to the way of shamelessness.”

Yu Chang did not enjoy talking with him and simply stopped trying to probe. He said directly, “First you spoiled the emergence of the hidden realm in the South Sea, enticed the Heartless Lotus into attacking Jinping, and openly took control of the Xuanyin Mountains. You were playing an excellent game. You should have been able to take your time, but because there are too many traitors among the Wan, the information has already leaked out so soon. Even I know of it. Tai Sui, what are you planning to do?”

The great evil cultivator judged others by his own standard. Xi Ping didn’t dispute with him, only calmly said, “Would you like to instruct me?”

“Xuanwu is currently Sanyue’s sole shed skin. You don’t need me to tell you how strong his cultivation is—in Sanyue, no one but Xiang Rong could hold him back. He was previously expelled by Sanyue with a serious injury he was unable to heal from, his boundary fallen, such that we could still contend with him. But once Sanyue legitimizes him again, it’ll take hardly any time for it to repair his damaged essence. And once he has the immortals under his control, Sanyue will return to what it was before, standing alone and impregnable. Nothing good will happen to the local despots who have cropped up in recent years thanks to the Xiang family losing its influence. Therefore, we are preparing a final thrust. While Xuanwu has yet to be fully admitted by Sanyue and the Central and West Peaks are still deadlocked, we will rebel—this is our only chance.”

“Who’s this ‘we’?” said Xi Ping.

Yu Chang quietly met his eyes. After a brief silence, he said, “We offerings, who act against our own hearts, who are kept by the powerful and ordered around like dogs. We who cannot be free.”

Xi Ping said, “You want to secretly remove the spiritual image brands, join the various local despots in rising in rebellion, and then, once you’ve beaten Xuanwu, turn around and bite your masters.”

“A breeze does not last out the morning, a rain shower does not last out the day. Why should those good-for-nothings be the sky above our heads generation after generation?” Yu Chang said softly. “Shouldn’t the person sitting in the lofty immortal palace on Sanyue’s Principal Peak change? What about your honored teacher…”

The upturned corners of Xi Ping’s cheerfully smiling mouth flattened out under his fox mask. “Watch what you say, Yu-xiong. If you mention my shizun again, I’m afraid your vital weapon won’t be long for this world.”

Yu Chang accordingly took the conversation in a different direction. “Though you control the Xuanyin Mountains and have dominion over the precious territory of Southern Wan, in a hundred years, when there are no more spiritual mountains, what will happen? I can sign a blood covenant—not with you, with the shed skin master; with him a major boundary above me, as far as the blood covenant is concerned, the interpretation of its clauses won’t be up to me. I won’t even be able to find loopholes. Afterwards, the nations of Chu and Wan will become eternal allies, mutually advance without invading each other, the spiritual stone resources of the Sanyue Immortal Mountains to be shared between the two nations. When Xuanyin has dissipated, the two nations can even combine into one. Then there will be a blessed land with favorable terrain and climate, and also spiritual mountains. There will be no difficulty in uniting the whole southern continent.”

Xi Ping squeezed open a melon seed shell with a crack. “Wake up, buddy, it’s not dark yet.”

“Then let’s not talk about anything that far out.” Yu Chang smiled amiably. “Under the current circumstances, apart from working with me, do you have any better options?”

Xi Ping met his eyes through the mask. The two of them were like two demons who were always plotting against each other, well-matched, with a tacit understanding. Haggling, they rapidly hashed out all the details.

In the Land of Turmoil—

Chang Jun was also a misfit who hadn’t made anything of himself. Apart from liking to pick up information, he also liked playing around with wicked little toys. Living in the southern mines, where birds didn’t come to shit, he didn’t let a single trend go by. Whatever novelty came into vogue, he would get himself one. Right now, he had a steam carriage in his possession.

Neither of them dared to fly a sword. They drove north in Chang Jun’s steam carriage.

Chang Jun asked, “Ziming, what are your plans?”

Yao Qi answered without hesitation: “Go to the Xuanyin Mountains.”

Chang Jun looked at him in the car’s little mirror. “To see Shiyong? You probably won’t be able to. The inner sect is strictly…”

Yao Qi stared unblinkingly up ahead, rather unskillfully pronouncing his decision: “We’ll return to the Latent Cultivation Temple, see Elder Su and Luo-shixiong.”

Just before they had left the mountains, Su Zhun had said that if he found himself at a loss out there, he could return to the Latent Cultivation Temple. The Latent Cultivation Temple was the starting point of every cultivator in Great Wan. If you had nowhere to go, you could go back there… He had only said it to him, as if at that moment he had seen his bewildering future.

Luo-shixiong… Luo-shixiong had said he didn’t have the makings of a cultivator. He had been absolutely right.

Chang Jun hesitated for a moment. “Leaving Luo-shixiong aside for the moment, I’ve heard gossip that says Elder Su is good friends with General Zhi… It doesn’t make a difference to me, my family is small fry, we just have a few ancestors who did odd jobs at the Latent Cultivation Temple. We have no business picking sides in a fight. But you—after all, your sister…”

“Married into a big family,” Yao Qi said softly. “But my—our surname isn’t Zhang, and it isn’t Zhou.”

With his background, had he been mortal, his family probably could have arranged a pretty nice wife for him, but in the immortal sect, there couldn’t be a female cultivator who would marry down to his level. He would have no progeny. The surname “Yao” wouldn’t be passed on.

He was only an inferior tool casually laid out by the big families to be used at need and written off.

Yao Qi smiled, not knowing what he was feeling. “Actually, what do they have to do with me?”

Chang Jun sighed. “Hold on tight.”

There were no roads in the Land of Turmoil. The ground was covered in mud pits. As soon as it rained, it became dotted with holes like the sky with stars. The stream carriage suddenly accelerated, limping as it leapt and sprang, spouting steam as though it were choking.

All of a sudden, while the car was caught and sent flying by a big stone, there was a flash of spiritual light, and the car became fixed in midair.

Only when the car wouldn’t land were the spiritual senses of the two half-immortals touched… It was already too late.

Seven or eight black figures surged out from the surroundings, tightly surrounding the steam carriage caught in midair. All of them were established foundations or above—all were evil cultivators.

Yao Qi and Chang Jun were like two lambs being watched by a vicious beast. They didn’t dare to move a muscle.

A black-clothed evil cultivator stepped forward and tugged on the steam carriage’s door. Not understanding its basic principles, he used brute force to pull the door off, then smiled at the two people inside it. “Where are you going, lords? My master requests the pleasure of your company.”

As he spoke, he crooked a finger. Yao Qi’s proximal flew out. The letters that had previously been erased flashed one by one on the downgraded immortal tool, until the evil cultivator came to the last one. “Hey, there’s a letter here Lord Yao hasn’t answered yet.”

Yao Qi’s handwriting appeared automatically on the proximal, subserviently agreeing to all the empress’s requests.

Then two black-clothed men left the ranks and each stuck something onto his face. Their figures and features slowly twisted, changing into Yao Qi and Chang Jun’s appearances. Even their established foundation cultivation was suppressed.

The Luwu had been running riot for a decade. Their hateful “spiritual image masks” had long since spread throughout the continent. The spiritual image masks made by Lin Chi himself could deceive an ascended spirit’s, or even more powerful, eyes. Others couldn’t imitate them, but it wasn’t hard to take advantage and go fishing in muddy waters.

Soon after, having left the southern mines without anyone knowing, “Yao Qi” and “Chang Jun” returned without anyone knowing.

Yu Chang had spent the whole day tangling with Tai Sui. The two of them had traded insights and banter in a verbal contest of strength that had exhausted body and mind. When he left Tao County, Yu Chang simply looked a little worn out.

As soon as he walked out of the spiritual energy prohibition, he received a message on an immortal tool—a certain “collaborator” from the Land of Turmoil said: “We have infiltrated the southern mines.”

“Eternal allies…” Yu Chang gave a cold laugh and extinguished the spiritual light on the immortal tool. His spiritual sense noticed the Qilin Guardsmen patrolling outside Tao County approaching, so he unhurriedly melted into a shadow.

Tai Sui, Xi Ping—

After events in the South Sea, Yu Chang’s hatred for this person had nearly surpassed what he had felt for Yu Family Bend. He would fight him to the death.

Tai Sui was crafty, but he was only an ascended spirit, after all. Without the shed skin sword cultivator behind him, what was he?

And for that shed skin sword cultivator of the Xuanyin Mountains who had quelled its thirty-six peaks upon coming into the world, the only threat was Northern Li. Zhi Xiu must have thought of that and already sent someone to Northern Li for peace talks.

It wouldn’t be hard at all to make their talks fall apart. All they had to do was muddy the waters in the southern mines.

As if giving himself up as a lost cause, Xi Ping tossed aside his senior’s bearing and sat with one leg crossed over the other in the little house, eating all the peanuts and melon seeds Zhao Qindan had prepared for her young students. Then, under the gaze of the amazed young mistress, he patted crumbs off himself as though nothing were the matter. “Play it, let’s have a listen.”

So Zhao Qindan opened a stone bench and took a bizarre-looking machine from its fat belly. She fiddled with it briefly, and the machine began to spin with a creak-creak. Yu Chang’s voice came from it.

A breeze does not last out the morning, a rain shower does not last out the day. Why should those good-for-nothings be the sky above our heads generation after generation…

Zhao Qindan listened for a while. “It’s even clearer than I expected—what is it, Tai Sui, do you think this person is untrustworthy?”

“He’s very trustworthy,” Xi Ping said. “There’s a one hundred percent chance he’s planning to use me, then kill me. Alas…an ill-fated relationship of mine.”

Zhao Qindan: “…”

He must be drunk!

“Use it when I tell you to.” Xi Ping smiled at the horrified young mistress, then in a flash passed through the reincarnation wood and returned to Flying Jade Peak.

As soon as he came out of the tree, before he had found his footing, he suddenly froze—Xi Yue had woken up. He had just walked out of the mustard seed to meet him face-to-face across the disaster of the snow on the ground.