Chapter 53: A Fine Sword Must Be Sharpened

“Unafraid of rumors.” Qiao Yu gazed intently at Wen Jinge’s retreating figure, his eyes burning with admiration.

His master had borne countless slanders and never cared for them. On the contrary, she thrived among the Seven Peaks, moving as easily as a fish in water, and no one dared to cross her.

He liked such a carefree and unrestrained master.

Yet a master like this could not treat him well, for that hand in the heavens could claim her life at any moment.

He thought, over these years, all the wrongs his master had suffered, all the bitterness, all the unwillingness—surely, it was all tied to the heavens.

One day, he would help his master break free!

“What are you thinking about?” Lu Wei’s voice interrupted his reverie at just the right moment.

“N-nothing.”

“You can’t advance in rank yet,” Lu Wei reminded him. “Don’t let your mind wander after things you shouldn’t covet. You’re not ready.”

“Elder Master, did you see it?”

“I did.”

“I…”

“She has many secrets. You’re not the only one who’s curious.”

“I understand. I’ll focus on my cultivation.”

“M-master…” On the viewing platform, Yang Wennan, who had been speaking at length, was taken aback. The confident smile on his face vanished, and Yan’er, looking utterly defeated, knelt down with a face full of misery. “Master, I was wrong.”

“What wrong have you done?” Wen Jinge was glancing over Fan Zifan’s account book, calculating just how many spirit stones her two excellent disciples had earned for her.

She spoke casually, without a care, but the listeners took it to heart—especially as the second senior brother’s gaze was now unmistakably that of the Elder Master. He grew even more nervous.

“Master, I’m sorry. I should be on Wanzhang Peak right now.”

“Yes, Master, I should be on Wanzhang Peak as well,” Wang Xi knelt down beside him.

“It was my fault. Not only did I fail to stop my fellow disciples, but I also invited Elder Fan here without permission,” Yuan Qingling said, bowing his head. He was older, more open to taking responsibility—whatever the crime, he would shoulder it alone.

After all, he’d lost all face today. Yang Wennan and Wang Xi were still young and full of promise. It was fine if his own presence faded further into the background.

Shan Hongxing, witnessing this, frowned slightly.

All the disciples were kneeling; with Wen Jinge’s temperament, she couldn’t possibly let it pass without a word, could she?

Those who had been struck were his own disciples—could he possibly be expected to speak up for them? The thought left him helpless. If not for his own poor health in his early years, it wouldn’t have fallen to Wen Jinge to intervene, and now he owed her yet another debt of gratitude.

He had once been a mid-tier rank-three cultivator, but after Wen Jinge forcefully transferred some of her mystical energy into him a few days ago, his cultivation had improved, though his body was still unwell.

Others on the peak might be swept up in various emotions, but from the moment Wen Jinge appeared, he watched her closely. She carried the scent of blood, and had arrived with that disciple who harbored a demon—she must have been out committing some slaughter, likely unaware of what had just transpired.

“Oh.” Wen Jinge nodded and pointed at the account book. “Liang Siren isn’t here. Where did these spirit stones come from?”

“The disciples from Lingxiao Peak rushed to deliver them,” Shan Hongxing replied, eyes coveting the spirit stones as he nudged Wen Jinge lightly. “Next time you plan something big, could you let me in on it? Let’s work together!”

“It wasn’t my doing,” Wen Jinge said, still somewhat bemused. These spirit stones were a bit short, but enough to have Yuan Qingling craft some items. “If Elder Qiushui hadn’t tipped me off, I’d be searching all over Wanzhang Peak for people right now.”

Fan Zifan glanced at her. Seeing no sign of deception, he finally asked, “You went to stir trouble in the Illusion Realm again?”

“Yes, and I’ll be going in again soon.”

“…”

“What is mathematics, physics, and chemistry?” Lu Wei leafed through the account book, tallying the spirit stones. After a quick glance through a few pages, he said, “Flip to page four—109,064 spirit stones. Let’s just take 109,060. You have to leave them a little soup when you’re eating all the meat.”

Fan Zifan’s eyes rolled back; he nearly fainted.

Soup? Was he really that desperate for four spirit stones?

“No need, I’m not short on money!”

“Really? Then give me another medicinal mountain!”

Fan Zifan fled, dejected. He couldn’t afford to play this game, but he could still run away.

“A book.” Yang Wennan ingratiatingly handed over “Mathematics, Physics, and Chemistry,” turning to Lu Wei with a smile. “Master wrote it, told me to read it thoroughly—said it would suit me.”

“This book… is ingenious, and cunning. Hm? Is it a military manual?” Lu Wei quickly skimmed through it and handed it back. “Why doesn’t Qiao Yu have one?”

“Would he understand it?” Wen Jinge blinked.

Lu Wei’s heart ached a little. Qiao Yu’s illiteracy was an original sin—and worse, he was stubborn as a mule.

“Fine! I’ll teach him to read!” Lu Wei grumbled reluctantly.

He was living in Qiao Yu’s body now, after all; he owed him that much. But as soon as he spoke, he regretted it, for Wen Jinge shot him a meaningful look.

Lu Wei realized he’d been outmaneuvered again.

Words, once spoken, were like water spilled—impossible to retrieve. He could only feign annoyance. “Don’t get too pleased with yourself. Hurry up—there’s still business to attend to!”

“Oh, right!” Wen Jinge slapped her forehead. Her three disciples were still kneeling on the platform—she’d come to take them for some hard labor.

“My dear niece.” Wen Jinge hurried over to Lu Feiyu, offering her water with concern. “Are you tired from standing so long?”

“Master Wen, your disciples are shameless and despicable to the extreme—aren’t you going to do something about it? If such people go out representing our sect, the whole Xuanyun Sect will be disgraced!”

Lu Feiyu’s face flushed a bright red, her Flying Fish robe lending her even more heroic air. Wen Jinge, unable to resist, tucked the stray hair from her cheeks behind her ears.

“Such a pretty girl, but that temper needs some work. At this rate, you’ll never get married.” Wen Jinge patted her shoulder, adjusted her posture for a dashing pose, and circled her with a memory stone, capturing her from every angle.

Lu Feiyu looked desperately to her own master for help, but found him sitting with his eyes closed, seemingly asleep.

“My dear niece, you’re Brother Shan’s prized pupil; your skills and talent need no comparison—I already know you’re the best. But do you realize, someone as gifted as you will one day face not just mystics, but also demon cultivators, even grand devils, perhaps even the Demon Lord who awakens once every thousand years?

“It’s true, Yang Wennan is my disciple, but to be honest, aside from handing him that book and suggesting he learn some talismanic arts, I haven’t interfered with his cultivation at all. Everything you saw today was his own understanding.

“The sword in your hand is beautiful, but it’s only for sparring.

“A beautiful sword snaps at a single bend—just like this.”

Snap.

Lu Feiyu stared in disbelief at the broken sword on the ground. “Master Wen, you, you…”

“A good sword needs tempering. So do people.” Wen Jinge pressed her hands to the broken blade and, with a twist at the break, restored the sword to wholeness. “Does it pain you?”

“I’m returning it,” Wen Jinge tossed the sword to Shan Hongxing. “Brother, a famed sword is fit for offering, but a good sword’s value is in its use.”

Shan Hongxing: …

“The Gouchen axe chops wood well, the Demon Zither’s carrying pole is hard to break. Perhaps, brother, you can use this ‘Broken Heart’ sword to dig some earth?”