Chapter 35: Disciples Are Always Overthinkers

Wen Jinge cautiously glanced at the ring on her finger, reluctant to part with it. She looked at Lu Wei and asked, “Do you remember where your old home was?”

“You’re sending me home?” Though Lu Wei doubted Wen Jinge’s kindness, he still asked.

“Well, since you’re the White Deer Warlord, you must have been quite wealthy!”

Lu Wei: …

“You wiped out the entire White Deer clan, so surely no one is left to claim their spirit stones or gold, right?”

Lu Wei: …

“Tonight, I’ll have Liang Si go to the library and look for maps from ten thousand years ago. The Profound Cloud Sect was founded by the last god, so they should have such things.”

Lu Wei: …

“Don’t look at me like that! Focus on the formation! Quickly!” Wen Jinge lifted him into the sky. “Hurry and see if there are any mistakes. Last time I altered the remnants of the Heavenly Net and ended up blasting the mountain into two. I still need this Ten-Thousand-Fathom Peak, so just check if the area I’ve drawn is right.”

Lu Wei was enveloped in a sense of utter helplessness. Thankfully, he was born ten thousand years earlier; if he had encountered someone like Wen Jinge later, he’d probably have died of sheer frustration before ever drawing his sword.

Yet, he smiled.

Because he remembered—Wen Jinge survived by relying on the things in her mind.

“Check quickly!” Wen Jinge’s fist was already poised above his head. Though it was Qiao Yu’s body, he felt the pain, and a trace of fear rose within him, as if Qiao Yu’s influence lingered.

“It won’t blow up the mountain, just the area is a bit larger than yours. It extends horizontally from your original boundary to the northern bamboo forest.”

“Horizontally?” Wen Jinge gestured, estimating in her mind. “That’s not much—just need to go borrow another medicine mountain from Fan Zifan and it’ll suffice.”

Lu Wei: “Could you not use such words as thievery?”

“Alright!” Wen Jinge nodded. She leapt down, quickly set the formation core, and sped away with Lu Wei. “We’ll call it ‘borrowing’ then!”

They had barely reached the outer rim of Ten-Thousand-Fathom Peak when a thunderous boom erupted behind them. A cloud of dust rose high above the mountain, and when they looked back, a massive crater had appeared.

“What a pity about the ring. You’re right—I can’t just rely on talisman and spell cultivation; I should hurry and take up artifact cultivation too. Who knows what else I might need to learn.”

Lu Wei: “When did I ever say that?”

“It’s something to be understood, not spoken. You old-fashioned types always make your disciples guess your meaning.” Wen Jinge stepped on Gouchen, the demon shadow carrying Lu Wei. They arrived at a spring.

“I’m not like that at all. I speak directly, but my disciples always overthink things.”

“Mas—Master,” Yang Wennan stood naked in the spring. Seeing Wen Jinge, he hurried to hide behind a rock, “Sec—Second Senior Brother…”

Wen Jinge couldn’t suppress her laughter, patting Qiao Yu’s shoulder. “Bajie, you really are adorable.”

“Master…” Yang Wennan saw Qiao Yu daring to glare at their master. He recalled being present at the sealing and realized this must be the demon.

Such individuals, harboring demons within, were not tolerated in most sects. In severe cases, they were executed on the spot. Yet Wen Jinge had forcibly sealed the demon back into Qiao Yu. Yang Wennan never understood why. Their master did not care about the demon’s identity, and the entire sect had seen it on the recording stones. Still, no one dared confront her atop Ten-Thousand-Fathom Peak.

When the demon was sealed, Yang Wennan had an indescribable feeling. Now, seeing the demon inhabiting his fellow disciple’s body, his heart filled with even more uncertainty.

Lu Wei failed to comprehend Wen Jinge’s amusement but suddenly realized that, in Wen Jinge’s eyes, “Second Senior Brother” was hardly a term of endearment. “Call him Senior Brother Qiao.”

“You’re not!” Yang Wennan half-crouched in the water, sword drawn and wary.

Wen Jinge suddenly rose into the air, tilting her head. “What’s the matter? You’re wearing trousers! It’s not like you’re completely undressed, so why hide?”

Yang Wennan’s face turned as red as a cooked shrimp. Hugging his knees, he sank entirely into the water. “Mas—Master… please, have some propriety.”

Wen Jinge rolled her eyes in exasperation.

What was wrong with the men in this world?

All of them!

She took a deep breath. “Is there a formation called ‘South-to-North Water Diversion’?”

Lu Wei: What new mischief is this woman plotting now?

“No.” He looked coldly at Wen Jinge, who seemed intent on teasing her disciple. “Are you sure you won’t come down? That boy will suffocate himself.”

“He can think whatever he likes. I can’t crawl into his head, can I? Don’t distract me—I’m considering the formation.”

“How about ‘Transplanting Flowers and Grafting Trees’?”

“Transplanting Flowers and Grafting Trees?” Wen Jinge’s eyes lit up.

Lu Wei noticed the demon shadow floating at his side drifted to his feet, carrying him as he followed Wen Jinge. “This sword is a demon sword—why does it obey you? There’s not a trace of demonic energy on you. And with whatever is in your mind, no demon would dare invade your thoughts.”

“Maybe I made it,” Wen Jinge replied offhandedly. Seeing his disbelief, she added, “Honestly, I don’t believe it myself. When I saw it in the illusion, I thought it was Gouchen—I thought Gouchen was also a demon sword. But Ai Fengling told me it only emits a purple light.”

“You exude the aura of an immortal when you set up formations.”

Wen Jinge frowned, pondering. The founder of the Profound Cloud Sect was the last god in the world; since then, there had been neither gods nor immortals. Why did both gods and immortals vanish?

“Is there a difference between gods and immortals?”

“Gods of old were born of nature. Immortals are made through cultivation.”

“Then where did the White Deer clan’s war god come from?”

Lu Wei’s eyes were filled with sorrow. He hadn’t wanted to speak of it, but seeing Wen Jinge’s expression was not mocking, he said, “I was an orphan—my parents unknown. That’s why I could be called the war god.”

“After you destroyed the White Deer clan, did you burn all their records?”

“No. When I awoke, I was covered in blood. The White Deer clan had been slaughtered. I vaguely remember that it was my doing.”

“…Oh.” Wen Jinge shrugged. “Oh! Heaven help us, what a tragic story! My friend, you must look forward—”

Before she could finish, Lu Wei covered her eyes. “Don’t look.”

Yuan Qingling was mortified—truly mortified. Since coming to Ten-Thousand-Fathom Peak, he had stopped taking elixirs because Liang Si said they were useless for cultivation. Moreover, Wen Jinge had made it clear that if he used them, he paid for them himself—a clear hint to stop. He was nearly seventy, and as a result, all the disguises he’d worn over the years began to shed.

The first effects appeared on the parts of his body covered by clothing, and recently, even his neck showed old skin. To avoid being seen by others on the mountain, he found a secluded place to clean up. By sheer misfortune, there he stood naked in the water, only to look up and see his master and second senior brother floating above, seeing everything.

“Get dressed,” Wen Jinge said, not rejecting Lu Wei’s thoughtful gesture. “Go with Senior Brother Yang upstream to Qinghong Peak and help your junior sister.”

Yuan Qingling could only think, upstream, Senior Brother Yang… he too was seen by Master…

Well, then he wasn’t so embarrassed after all.