Back on the lonely peak, Li Qiye summoned Nan Huairen and his teacher, Protector Mo. When the two arrived, Li Qiye asked directly,
"What is the origin of our sect master?"
The question amused him. The Grand Elder was no jealous man, and he clearly lacked ambition for the seat of sect lord — so why such dislike for Su Yonghuang?
Nan Huairen glanced at his master. He knew little himself and scratched his head.
"Ah … that I do not know. The sect master was already in power before I joined. I've seen him perhaps ten times at most."
Li Qiye turned his eyes to Protector Mo. The older man shook his head slowly.
"No one really knows, to be honest. The sect master's background is a mystery — he appeared overnight, as if from thin air."
"Overnight? And such a man was made sect lord?" Li Qiye raised a brow.
Protector Mo thought carefully. > "The former sect master was still alive then, and the Grand Elder yet held his authority. It's said that one night, the sect master and the then‑living Supreme Elder summoned the Grand Elder and entrusted him with their last wish — appointing this new man as successor."
Li Qiye was surprised — he had always thought Su Yonghuang a native disciple of the sect. Perhaps not.
"Could it be that my so‑called master was a disciple secretly trained by the former sect lord and the Supreme Elder?"
"We can't say," Protector Mo replied. "When the Grand Elder returned from that meeting, he immediately announced the new sect master. Cao Xiong and the other four elders all opposed it, but the Grand Elder worked to convince them and even personally suppressed the most vehement dissenters."
He paused for breath. > "At that time, everyone expected the Grand Elder to succeed as sect lord. When this stranger appeared and he still supported him — no one could object further."
Li Qiye nodded slowly. > "But resentment would run deep. Even with his backing, few would welcome a sect lord born overnight."
Protector Mo nodded in agreement. > "After his appointment, the sect master soon left with a small group of disciples to guard the borderlands. He has rarely returned since. After the former lord and the Supreme Elder both passed away, he ceased returning altogether."
Li Qiye stroked his chin, eyes narrowing in thought. > "What kind of origin does he truly have then?"
Protector Mo lowered his voice. > "If anyone knows the sect lord best, it would be Tu Buyu."
Li Qiye laughed softly. > "If he were to speak frankly, that would be the true miracle. Clearly, Tu Buyu is his confidant — why else would he be re‑assigned here?"
Since neither Mo nor Nan could shed light on the matter, Li Qiye let it rest — for now. He slowed his own cultivation and turned his focus to the Martial Instruction Hall on Washing Stone Peak.
When it came to teaching, no one was more qualified. He had weathered endless ages, tempered through millions of years, and taught heroes and emperors alike — disciples who became sovereigns of epochs. Even the Immortal Emperor Mingren and the Black Dragon King, venerated by three generations of Emperors, had once been his students.
Raising a group of youths was child's play to him — but he faced it earnestly. From his hands, no weaklings had ever been born. Now that he had reclaimed his body in this life, he had no intention of tarnishing his own reputation.
To Li Qiye, cultivation was never about talent, constitution, or techniques — it was about the heart of Dao itself. Only a steady, thirsting, and unyielding heart mattered: a mind open as the sea, patient, and tireless in pursuit of truth.
Natural gift meant little. Even the untalented could advance through diligence — study a day to their hundred, and they would reach places geniuses never saw. Even mediocre techniques could be forged to perfection through relentless understanding.
Throughout the ages, how many great powers had walked from common manuals to create new heavens of their own? The Dao Heart was the core of all cultivation. Countless sects spawned endless prodigies — yet few became Immortal Emperors.
Li Qiye studied the profiles of all three hundred disciples in the Martial Hall and memorized their current progress and techniques. Most had joined less than five years ago and were still outer disciples awaiting the final trial to enter the sect properly.
Their training methods were limited to a dozen basic manuals — some created by past heroes of the sect, others from older eras. The most ancient among them dated back to the Immortal Emperor Mingren, and the oldest of all were those Li Qiye himself had once left behind as the Dark Crow.
These were not exalted arts but well‑chosen foundations, suited for building strong Dao roots. Even without memories of every manual he'd ever read, his understanding of techniques was peerless — no art escaped his keen insight.
He did not plan to cultivate them himself — only to select what best fit his students. With special permission from the Grand Elder, he consulted the first two levels of the sect's Scripture Vault to find suitable methods.
For Li Qiye, teaching was a serious duty, not a way to earn credit. Once he took on disciples, he would guide them to the end. That was his way — and his pride.
By the time of the assessment, he was certain not one of them would fail.
Washing Stone Peak belonged to Cao Xiong's influence, and Hall‑Master Zhou was one of his men. Yet for Li Qiye, this was no challenge at all. No matter Cao Xiong's reach, he would soon hold the entire branch in his hand.
The Martial Hall sat within the sprawling Washing Stone Valley — hundreds of dwellings, courtyards, and training grounds for three hundred young disciples and scores of servants.
Early one morning, Li Qiye entered the valley to begin his first lesson. Hall‑Master Zhou offered no help, of course. It was Nan Huairen who arranged everything, gathering the three hundred disciples in the training field to meet their new instructor.
Three hundred pairs of eyes watched Li Qiye curiously. He swept his gaze across them — half boys, half girls, the oldest barely eighteen, the youngest perhaps thirteen.
And he himself looked only thirteen or fourteen. To such students, being taught by someone their own age hardly seemed right. Nan Huairen couldn't help worrying that Li Qiye might fail to command their respect.
Yet Li Qiye sat above them with utter ease — gentle as a breeze, serene as a sage. For all his youth, he exuded the majesty of a grand master, and his calm confidence quelled Nan's doubt.
Sure enough, the moment the assembly began, a problem arose — among the three hundred disciples, several immediately voiced their discontent. Even the title of Chief Senior Brother did little to convince them of his authority.