The flying vessel carved through the open sky, parting the layers of cloud-sea to either side.
Gu Chengming sat cross-legged in the cabin, a small rosewood table before him, a pot of clear tea resting on top.
Looking back on these past three months — it really had been over in the blink of an eye.
He turned his gaze inward first. In the sea of consciousness, the favorability rating column for Hundred Bones Resonance now read a conspicuous one hundred and sixty-five.
He had those few "demonic beasts with ancient bloodlines" to thank for that.
Truth be told, the flesh of those creatures had not been pleasant eating — rough and difficult to swallow would be putting it charitably. But every time Gu Chengming forced himself to choke it down through sheer willpower, the Hundred Bones Resonance would murmur something along the lines of "it must never let down the Emperor Gu's expectations" and "what a divine treasure, truly of boundless use" — and then a warm current would surge efficiently through his every limb and bone, rendering even the unpalatable palatable.
And with the favorability threshold met, his constitution attribute had increased by two points, bringing it to nine. With that came a change to his lifespan ceiling.
[Current Lifespan: Ninety-three years]
Ninety-three years.
By the game's standards, an ordinary First Realm cultivator's constitution sat at around ten points.
Which meant that he — a First Realm ninth-layer peak cultivator on the verge of stepping into the Second Realm, a sword-cultivation prodigy — after all this time of tempering body and soul, of Hundred Bones in Full Resonance...
Had finally, successfully evolved into a perfectly normal person who was only slightly frailer than peers at the same level. How wonderful. How cause for celebration.
Beyond the transformation of his physical body, progress in his swordsmanship had been equally gratifying.
With the guidance of the Piercing Insight option prompts, combined with his years of visual novel experience, the favorability rating for the Flowing Cloud Moon-Following Sword Art had been ground up to forty-five points over three months. It was still far from the next stage, but at least when he used it now, that sense of resistance and opacity had vanished entirely, replaced by a fluid responsiveness — like commanding his own arm.
As sword-light flowed and turned, clouds veiled the moon, killing intent lay hidden within, and the Art's power had grown by a margin that was more than just a few notches.
The only thing that gave Gu Chengming a headache was the Zhouli Heavenly Harmony Righteous Heart Method.
Over these three months, he had set aside time nearly every day to study its classical texts, even attempting to debate doctrine and discourse on the Dao with it inside his sea of consciousness.
And yet — the favorability column had not budged a single point. At the end of every debate session, the Zhouli Heavenly Harmony Righteous Heart Method would deliver the same verdict: [Your words are well-reasoned, yet words are ultimately hollow — no tangible results have been demonstrated.]
Gu Chengming had puzzled over it for a long while before finally letting out a helpless sigh.
"Heart methods are hard to cultivate — the ancients truly did not deceive me."
It seemed that cultivation methods of the heart variety truly were different from techniques of pure skill.
It appeared that only once he reached the Great Qian Dynasty would there be any new development in this heart method's favorability.
Gu Chengming shook his head and set the matter aside for now.
Beyond his own cultivation, these three months had also seen him make considerable preparations in terms of equipment.
The things inside Elder Ren's storage pouch were genuinely fine items — none finer than the Minghuī Lamp.
Gu Chengming took the lamp out of the storage pouch and turned it over in his palm, examining it with quiet appreciation.
The lamp was of an antique design, cast entirely in bronze, its surface covered in intricate cloud-scroll carvings. The wick was not fed by oil, but by a fingernail-sized pearl that emitted a faint, ghostly white glow.
Refining this treasure had cost Gu Chengming a full two months of patient, painstaking work before he had successfully imprinted his soul-mark onto it.
The Minghuī Lamp — a second-tier lower-grade magical artifact.
Its function was elegantly simple: warding off evil spirits, and forcing the hidden forms of malicious entities into visibility.
In this world of cultivation, ghost cultivators and malicious spirits had always occupied an awkward, infuriating niche.
In theory, the cultivation world's hierarchy of power was rigid and absolute — the gap between realms almost always meant a complete and total suppression of strength. A Second Realm demonic beast killing a First Realm cultivator, for instance, left the ordinary First Realm cultivator nearly powerless to resist. Everyone grumbled, but they accepted it as reasonable enough — after all, those beasts had thick hides, dense flesh, and deep spiritual energy reserves.
But ghost cultivators and malicious spirits were another matter entirely.
A Second Realm ghost cultivator's raw power, in numerical terms, was actually roughly on par with a late-stage or peak First Realm cultivator.
In fact, lacking a physical body, their frontal combat capability was even inferior to that of a late First Realm demonic beast.
What made them insufferable was that they were largely immune to physical attacks, resorted to bizarre and unpredictable methods, and at the drop of a hat could pull tricks like ghost walls, possession, or psychic assaults.
The general attitude toward them was: "What gives a Second Realm spirit the right to kill a First Realm cultivator? This mechanic is absolutely disgusting! Why can't a First Realm fighter beat it? When are the developers ever going to nerf ghost cultivators?!"
And so, to deal with these "mechanic-abusing" enemies, a whole category of magical artifacts specifically designed to counter evil spirits had been invented.
Elder Ren's annotation accompanying the lamp had been blunt and irascible in the extreme: "If you encounter one of these things that refuses to stop causing trouble even after death, just burn it with the lamp. Dead, and still cultivating — what gives them the right?"
As for the other artifact — the Tīnglán Sword.
Gu Chengming had not been idle on that front either. Drawing on the formation knowledge he had studied in the Scripture Library, he had inscribed several small "Dust-Repelling Formations" and "Edge-Honing Formations" into the blade, saving himself the tedious daily chore of wiping and polishing.
However, there was one question about this sword that had been nagging at him.
When he had been at the Hidden Sword Pavilion, the disciple there had quoted him a price of six thousand lower-grade spirit stones.
Even after Elder Yu's particular brand of creative accounting — swapping spirit stones for ore, applying internal-rate conversions — the actual amount spent had ended up considerably less. But that original asking price of six thousand had been perfectly real.
Six thousand spirit stones — what did that figure even mean in context?
Take the Minghuī Lamp in his hand: a second-tier lower-grade magical artifact, powerful, an excellent tool for preserving one's life, and its market price in any disciple market was only around two thousand spirit stones.
Yet the Tīnglán Sword, though sharp and resilient and excellent in hand, was — strictly by tier — nothing more than a peak first-tier sword.
A peak first-tier magical sword, priced at three times the cost of a second-tier artifact?
Gu Chengming was not the sort of man who could sit comfortably on an unanswered question. Since Elder Yu was right there on the ship, he might as well ask directly.
Up on the deck of the cloud-vessel, the wind was fairly brisk. Yu Wenqiu was sprawled without a shred of dignity on a soft couch that had appeared from somewhere unknown, a storybook scroll in hand, a plate of spiritual fruit set to one side — she had clearly fully settled into the rhythm of an all-expenses-paid working holiday.
Seeing Gu Chengming emerge, she looked up with mild curiosity. "What is it?"
Gu Chengming walked over, placed the Tīnglán Sword on the small table, and clasped his hands in a respectful salute.
"There is a matter this disciple cannot make sense of, and has come to ask for the Elder's guidance."
"Mm? What is it?"
Yu Wenqiu popped a grape into her mouth.
Gu Chengming laid out his confusion. Upon hearing it, Yu Wenqiu's hand stilled mid-motion, and she nearly choked on the grape.
She sat up straight and looked at Gu Chengming with an odd expression. "You didn't know?"
"Know what?"
"And here I assumed you bought it because you recognized what it was."
Yu Wenqiu sat up, shaking her head with an amused smile.
"You think the old hands in Hidden Sword Pavilion would ever misprice something? The material of this Tīnglán Sword was forged from second-tier Meteoric Cold Iron mixed with a small quantity of Star-Vein Steel. The raw material cost alone exceeds three thousand spirit stones."
"Second-tier materials?" Gu Chengming blinked. "Then why is it..."
She shook her head, picked up the Tīnglán Sword, and with a casual flick of her wrist twirled an effortless sword flourish — the motion flowing like water, carrying an inexplicable, unstudied elegance.
"Look more carefully at the patterns on the blade."
Gu Chengming took the sword back as directed, pouring his full visual focus into it — and only now did he notice something.
Deep within the dark-blue blade, almost imperceptible, were lines of extraordinarily fine tracery, resembling the meridians of a human body.
These lines were not fully connected — they ran in fragments, broken and incomplete, as though they had yet to be... excavated.
"This is..." Something stirred in Gu Chengming's mind.
Yu Wenqiu settled back onto the couch, explaining at a leisurely pace. "The master craftsman who forged this sword originally intended to create a peak second-tier magical sword."
"But partway through the forging process, a strange idea struck him: what if he temporarily sealed off part of the internal sword-channels, leaving only one foundational main meridian open — what would that produce?"
"The result is this Tīnglán Sword."
"In essence, it is a blank of peak second-tier quality — approaching even the third tier."
"But because the sword-channels are sealed, the power it displays is only at the first-tier level. And precisely because of that, its spiritual energy consumption for the wielder is extremely low — low enough that even a First Realm cultivator can wield it with ease."
At this, Yu Wenqiu gave Gu Chengming a look that was half smile, half something else.
"If the channels were fully opened, the terrifying throughput of a second-tier magical sword would leave that little spiritual energy of yours spinning. One swing, and you'd be seeing stars. That craftsman designed it this way deliberately — so that the sword could be progressively unsealed as its owner's cultivation advances."
"It's only that the channels are sealed for now. If they were fully open, the consumption for a First Realm cultivator would simply be too great to be practical."
Gu Chengming had a sudden flash of understanding. So it was an upgradeable weapon.
Another two days passed.
The cloud-vessel threaded its way through the sea of clouds, the fierce gale kept at bay by the formation array, leaving only a gentle breeze drifting across the deck.
He turned around, and his gaze fell on Yu Wenqiu, reclining on her couch.
The Elder was idly toying with a spiritual fruit, feeding it to herself in an absent, listless fashion. Those eyes of hers — usually carrying a lazy, half-amused look — seemed drained of interest, and there was, beneath the surface, an unmistakable air of... dejection.
Gu Chengming was puzzled.
By rights, Elder Yu was the type who loathed the stuffy ceremony and endless red tape of sect life above all else, and detested being buried under mundane duties.
Even her rotation of duty at the Hidden Sword Pavilion she put off and dodged whenever she could get away with it.
Now that the Sect Master had "exiled" her on this mission — ostensibly as an escort — given her personality, wasn't this essentially an imperial decree to go sightseeing on the sect's dime? A paid holiday?
No morning bell duties to clock in for. No Sect Master nagging her ear off. And not a chance of being conscripted to do actual work.
For a self-professed slacker, wasn't this everything she could ever dream of?
So why was she wearing the expression of someone who had just attended a funeral?
"Elder."
Gu Chengming set down his teacup, and finally could not help himself.
"This disciple has observed that you have been frowning the entire journey. Is something weighing on your mind? Now that we have left the sect, free from the constraints of morning bells and evening drums, and with the chance to travel through the Great Qian Dynasty — is this not a good thing?"
At those words, Yu Wenqiu set down her teacup and let out a long, long sigh.
She shot Gu Chengming a glance — the look one gives a young fool who doesn't know how high the sky is.
"Little Gu..."
Yu Wenqiu sat up straight, setting aside her languid air, and let a rare expression of grave and earnest concern settle over her face.
"You are still far too young."
"You think the Great Qian Dynasty is some pleasant destination?"
She shook her head, extended one finger, and jabbed it in the air several times, her tone laden with suffering.
"Utterly, catastrophically wrong!"
"That place —" Yu Wenqiu drew a deep breath, as though summoning up memories of something too traumatic to look at directly. "That place is absolutely no place for a human being to live!"
Gu Chengming blinked. "How do you mean? Surely the Great Qian is not overrun by demons and monsters — extraordinarily dangerous?"
"If it were only demons and monsters, that would actually be fine! One sword-strike and they're done — clean, simple, efficient!"
Yu Wenqiu slapped the table. "The most terrifying thing about that place is not demons. It's people. It's rules. It's those smiling faces with daggers hidden behind every grin, and the labyrinthine unspoken rules that leave you spinning in circles!"
She pointed at the deck beneath their feet, then at the outline barely visible in the far distance. "Do you know — I was once just like you. Full of spirit, sword in hand, striding down the mountain, certain I was going to carve out a name for myself in the Great Qian, become a free and easy sword immortal."
"And the result?" Yu Wenqiu gave a cold laugh. "The very first day I arrived in the capital, I almost got stopped at the city gate and interrogated for half an hour — all because I stepped through with my left foot first!"
"..."
Gu Chengming's eye twitched. "Stepped with your left foot first?"
"Yes! The Great Qian observes the principle of left before right for civilians — but only for civil officials! Military figures observe right over left! That gate officer saw the sword on my back and categorized me as a martial practitioner. When he saw me lead with my left foot, he decided I was ignorant of proper protocol — that I was showing contempt for the imperial capital!"
"And that was just the beginning. Once I entered the yamen — every step was like walking on thin ice!"
At this point, Yu Wenqiu's mask of suffering was fully, wholeheartedly donned.
She began to describe the "terrifying" Great Qian bureaucracy to Gu Chengming in vivid, theatrical detail.
"When speaking to a superior, the exact angle at which you bow has specific rules! Bow too low and you're a sycophant. Bow too little and you're arrogant!"
"When drinking tea, hold the cup wrong and you're showing poor upbringing! Leave the lid of the teacup slightly ajar, and you're signaling that it's time for the guest to leave!"
"And if a colleague invites you to a banquet — that's an absolute ordeal! How do you arrange the seating? Who moves their chopsticks first? What exactly do you say when proposing a toast? Even the order in which you reach for the dishes cannot be wrong! Make one mistake, and by the next morning the entire social circle of the capital will be buzzing about how you're some uncultured rogue cultivator who doesn't know how to behave!"
"And the civil officials are the worst of all!"
"They insult you without a single crude word! They're smiling and complimenting you to your face, and by the time you work out what they actually said, you realize they've cursed every ancestor you have going back eighteen generations — and in the same breath dug a pit for you to fall into!"
"I spent three years there..."
"Those three years, I felt more exhausted than thirty years in closed-door cultivation back at the sect! Every morning before leaving the inn, I had to think it through carefully: today, should I wear violet or green? Should I step through the door with my left foot or my right? When I meet someone, should I smile three parts or five parts?"
"You call that a good place?"
Gu Chengming had been listening with his mouth hanging slightly open. He had picked up some knowledge of the Great Qian's customs from the Records of Great Qian Miscellany and the Zhouli Heavenly Harmony Righteous Heart Method — but he hadn't imagined it was quite this extreme...
Surely Elder Yu was exaggerating?
Thinking about Elder Yu's, shall we say, cringe-worthy social skills, it was entirely possible this was all a product of her own private terror.
And yet, just as Gu Chengming was quietly marveling to himself —
[The Zhouli Heavenly Harmony Righteous Heart Method is electrified with excitement!]
[Measured advance and retreat, proper conduct in all matters, clear hierarchy of respect — meticulous to the last detail. Exquisite! Utterly exquisite!]
He did not dignify the divine heart method's reaction with any attention.
"Ahem, ahem..."
Gu Chengming cleared his throat twice, forcibly suppressing the strange sensation rising in his chest, and looked at the deeply aggrieved Yu Wenqiu with a soothing tone.
"Elder, please calm yourself. The Great Qian is, after all, a realm governed by Confucian principles — having rather a lot of rules is only natural. But with the Elder's cultivation and wisdom, you must have navigated that bureaucratic world with consummate ease back then, and surely left behind more than a few memorable tales?"
It was a polite remark — the sort of thing you say while stroking the fur the right way.
But the moment those words left his mouth, Yu Wenqiu — who had been venting with great energy just a moment before — suddenly froze.
Her eyes shifted away. She reached for her teacup and used the act of drinking to compose herself, before answering somewhat vaguely:
"That... that goes without saying."
"Hmph. Annoying rules they may have been, but am I the sort of person who gets shackled by a few petty rules?"
Yu Wenqiu set down her teacup and, apparently needing to rescue some shred of dignity as an elder, straightened her spine and lifted her chin slightly, beginning to reminisce about the glorious exploits of her youth.
"Back in the day, when I was posted at the Great Qian's Zhènyè Division — I was, ahem, quite a figure to be reckoned with."
"Oh?" Gu Chengming offered a perfectly timed feed line. "Please, do elaborate."
Yu Wenqiu's eyes drifted a little, and then it was as though a floodgate had opened — she began to hold forth at length.
"I remember one year, a strange case broke out in the capital — a certain prince's manor was said to be haunted. Every night, weeping sounds would fill the halls, and the prince was so terrified he refused to return to his own home. The Zhènyè Division sent several teams, but none of them could get to the bottom of it. Two of the investigators even got frightened out of their minds."
"The case eventually landed on my desk."
Yu Wenqiu waved a hand as though it were nothing.
"I didn't say a word. I just walked in, sword in hand. The manor's steward tried to press protocol on me — said visiting the prince required changing into proper attire, performing full kowtow nine times — I paid him not the slightest attention. I kicked the gate open, leveled my sword at the prince's nose, and demanded to know exactly what he had done to trouble his own conscience!"
"The prince was so frightened he blurted the whole thing out on the spot — how he had embezzled disaster relief funds and let people die by the thousands. It turned out the so-called ghostly weeping was nothing but the lingering grievances of the disaster victims' restless souls."
"Right then and there I sent those wronged spirits to peace, then took the prince's documented crimes and dropped them on the Minister of Justice's desk, forcing the Ministry to prosecute him in full accordance with the law."
Gu Chengming was left completely stunned.
That was... absolutely ferocious.
Was this really the same Elder Yu who would rather lie down than sit up, who would fake illness just to dodge work, who snuck around writing fanfiction on the sly?
Gu Chengming was moved to genuine admiration, and clasped his hands respectfully.
"To think that the Elder once had such boldness and courage! In that Great Qian bureaucracy, which places such emphasis on propriety, acting in such a manner — surely you made more than a few enemies?"
"Enemies?"
Yu Wenqiu gave a light snort. A flicker of guilt that was almost imperceptible crossed her eyes, but her words grew harder:
"And what of it? We are sword cultivators! Sword cultivators speak through direct action! With a sword in hand, reason follows! Those civil officials may have sharp tongues, but when it truly comes to blows, which one of them would dare say a word extra under the edge of my blade?"
She was getting more and more animated, as though she had truly transported herself back to those peak moments of glory.
"And another time — the Emperor of the Great Qian held a grand banquet for disciples of the major sects. At the feast, a certain ill-mannered prince demanded that I perform a sword dance for his entertainment."
"Me? Submit to that kind of humiliation? Absolutely not."
"So right then and there, I —"
"Flipped the table?" Gu Chengming ventured.
"How coarse! That's the behavior of a common brute!"
Yu Wenqiu shot him a glare, then put on an expression of inscrutable profundity.
"Right then and there, I raised my wine cup and channeled sword-qi through the liquid, transforming it into a shower of cascading petals — each drop of wine landing precisely on that prince's lapel, without harming a single hair on him, yet humiliating him thoroughly in front of the entire court and leaving him soaked from collar to hem."
"The Emperor of the Great Qian not only did not reproach me — he laughed three great laughs, praised my sword mastery as something beyond mortal ken, and rewarded me with a hundred gold."
So Elder Yu had been this dashing in her youth?
Gu Chengming felt genuine respect rising in his chest. He clasped his hands and said:
"If the Elder had such a distinguished reputation in the Great Qian back then, when we go there now — surely there will be many old acquaintances to reconnect with? With the Elder's connections, our business there should go considerably more smoothly."
"Erm..."
Yu Wenqiu, who had been building up a good head of steam, abruptly stalled.
Old acquaintances?
Against her will, the real memories of that time surfaced in her mind.
— In front of the prince's manor gates.
A senior martial sister in white robes had kicked the gate open, leveled her sword at the prince, radiating commanding authority from every pore.
And she herself had been standing behind that senior sister, clutching the back of her robe with both fists, too terrified to even raise her head, silently chanting "don't look at me" while internally ranting about the absurdly high threshold of the manor gate, which had nearly tripped her.
— At the imperial palace banquet.
The prince had made his rude demand for sword entertainment.
And again it was that same senior sister who had turned a cold eye on the prince, raised her cup, and sent sword-qi flowing like rain, astonishing all who watched.
While she herself had been bent over the table, eating with single-minded intensity, so enthusiastically that people around her had turned to stare.
In truth, during her three years in the capital, Yu Wenqiu's actual activities had consisted of: following that senior sister around scrounging food and lodging, and hiding in the inn reading storybook scrolls, too afraid to go outside. All those so-called rules and unspoken customs had been explained to her afterward by the senior sister — delivered as exasperated bedtime lectures after she had finished dealing with the latest mess.
The reason she found the Great Qian so terrifying was entirely because that senior sister would come back each day with reports like: "Nearly got played again today" and "Offended the Minister of Such-and-Such today" — which had sent Yu Wenqiu cowering in secondhand dread.
"Ahem, ahem..."
Yu Wenqiu erupted into two sharp, forced coughs, her eyes darting about evasively.
"About that... it's been so many years. Those old acquaintances have probably, maybe, possibly all retired to the countryside by now?"
"Besides, we cultivators place great stock in fate and serendipity. Seeking people out deliberately — that rather spoils the elegance of it all. Spoils it entirely."
She picked up her teacup and used the act of drinking to conceal the guilt written plainly all over her face.
Gu Chengming noticed nothing amiss. On the contrary, he found something rather admirable in Elder Yu's words — the composed air of a great figure who, having accomplished deeds worth recording, had simply walked away and left no name behind.
At this moment, the flying vessel had already passed through the unbroken sea of clouds, and the scenery below had begun to change.
The deep-green mountain ranges that had spread all around gradually fell away, replaced by wide, level official roads, a patchwork of farmland divided by field-paths, and the scattered constellation of villages and walled towns across the land.
A current of air wholly unlike the spiritual energy of the sect washed over them.
It was a vast breath compounded of the smoke and fire of mortal life, the pooled faith of ten thousand people, and a certain austere, commanding order.
Dimly, far away at the edge of the sky, there seemed to be the phantom outline of a colossal golden dragon, coiled above the heavens, gazing down upon all the land beneath.
That was — the national destiny of the Great Qian, the imperial dragon aura of the dynasty.
"We've arrived."
Yu Wenqiu set down her teacup and looked out at the landscape below — familiar and yet somehow strange — her expression carrying a complexity that was hard to name.
Gu Chengming stood up, walked to the prow of the vessel, and faced the oncoming mortal breath head-on.
"Great Qian..."
The cloud-vessel descended slowly, sinking into that vast, roiling world of mortals.
The heavy, oppressive aura belonging to an imperial capital grew more palpable with every meter they descended.
Nothing like the transcendent, unworldly spirit of the sect — the Great Qian's capital carried an awe-inspiring, almost militant gravity.
Yu Wenqiu leaned against the railing, watching the towering city walls drawing ever closer below. Her brow creased slightly. She turned her head to look at Gu Chengming beside her — who was gazing down with frank curiosity — and said, with the gravity of someone imparting hard-earned wisdom:
"Little Gu — you may be brilliantly talented, but the treachery of the human heart and the convolutions of official life are far harder to navigate than any sword art. The people of the Great Qian smile at you while their minds are working out a dozen ways to take advantage of you. You're an honest sort. If you run into those old foxes who only say three parts of what they mean and leave you to guess the other seven, you'll come away the worse for it."
Gu Chengming withdrew his gaze, an expression of precisely calibrated uncertainty on his face, and clasped his hands respectfully.
"The Elder speaks truly. This disciple may have read a few miscellaneous texts, but that is all book learning in the end. When it comes to the ways of people, the arts of reception and dealing — I am utterly at a loss. On this descent from the mountain, beyond tempering my swordsmanship, in all matters of etiquette and navigation, I am afraid I must rely entirely on the Elder's guidance and intervention."
Hearing those words, the lingering resentment Yu Wenqiu had felt about being "exiled" dissolved in an instant.
A sense of responsibility — the responsibility of a senior toward a junior who needed her — welled up within her in that moment.
She straightened up, smoothed her slightly disheveled collar, and thumped her chest with magnificent bravado.
"Fear nothing! With me here, the sky cannot fall!"
"You just focus on your cultivation. If you run into any of that tedious business that requires smooth talking and clever maneuvering, hand it all to me! Back when I was making my way through this capital, I was, ahem — I did enjoy a certain degree of face and standing. All this business of human relations and social dealings — I know it inside out!"
The moment those words left her mouth, the flying vessel lurched sharply downward.
"This is the dragon aura of the Great Qian."
Yu Wenqiu pointed to the column of violet-gold energy that shrouded the capital above — invisible to mortal eyes but blazing like a radiant sun to any cultivator's gaze — and explained.
"This is what forms when the faith of ten thousand common people merges with the dragon-qi of the earth's veins. It is the very foundation of a nation. Under the shelter of this dragon aura, all arts are suppressed and all evil retreats."
"Forget the two of us — even a Fourth Realm great cultivator attempting to fly through the sky over this capital would be compressed until their insides ached. Force your way through, and the backlash of the dragon aura would leave you not dead but half-skinned."
To make the point, she gestured at a low-tier demonic bird nearby that had apparently decided, unwisely, to attempt to fly over the city wall.
The moment the creature neared the airspace above the wall, it did not even have time to shriek before it was annihilated on the spot.
Gu Chengming watched the dispersing cloud of blood mist and nodded thoughtfully, then asked:
"In that case, there is one thing this disciple cannot quite make sense of."
"If this dragon aura is so absolute — capable of annihilating all external evil and demons on the spot — then why, as I have seen in the case files, do malicious spirits and strange cases continue to occur frequently within the Great Qian's borders, even within the capital itself? Why are disciples from our sect still needed to come down the mountain and assist in exorcism?"
"If external evil cannot enter — then where does the evil that arises from within come from?"
This question genuinely stumped Yu Wenqiu.
She opened her mouth to explain, then found that the logic involved was far too complex — touching on questions of the human heart, causality, and the rise and fall of national destiny — and could not find a place to begin.
"Well, you see..." Yu Wenqiu's eyes shifted evasively. "Darkness in the heart breeds its own demons. As long as human desire and selfishness exist, evil spirits will never be fully exterminated. Anyway — we can talk about these grand principles later. The people coming to receive us are here."
She pointed to a contingent of figures on the docking platform below, and swiftly changed the subject.
As the flying vessel settled firmly to the ground, a faint puff of dust rose around it.
On the docking platform, a squad of officials in black brocade uniforms, regulation long sabers at their waists, had been waiting for some time.
The man at their head was powerfully built, with a firm and resolute face. A faint saber scar on his left cheek did not diminish his authority in the slightest — if anything, it added a sharper menace to his bearing.
The spiritual pressure emanating from him was deep and controlled: unmistakably an early Fourth Realm cultivator.
Yu Wenqiu had been slightly on edge, because what she'd been doing earlier was bragging — if they actually ran into a difficult customer with no interest in pleasantries, she would have to put in some real effort.
But when she made out the face of the man at the head of the group, the tension dropped out of her shoulders in an instant.
"Oh, it's him."
Yu Wenqiu turned to transmit to Gu Chengming, a note of satisfaction in her voice.
"Little Gu, we're in luck. This man is from the Zhènyè Division — and he's a familiar face. During my time training in the Great Qian, he and I crossed paths more than a few times. Colleagues, in a manner of speaking."
"Back then he was a newly appointed Third Realm case officer — always buried up to his ears in work. Hard to believe that after all these years he has made it through — broken into the Fourth Realm, and judging by that uniform... he must have been promoted to Deputy Commander."
"Since it's an old acquaintance, this should be easy."
Gu Chengming felt some of the knot in his chest loosen.
By now the squad of officials had advanced to meet them.
The scarred man swept his gaze across the flying vessel with sharp, searching eyes. When he confirmed the Wenjian Sect insignia on its hull, his expression eased a fraction.
When his gaze landed on Yu Wenqiu, there was a brief beat of surprise, followed by a flicker of something between astonishment and old fondness. On that perpetually taut face of his, a smile appeared — stiff, but unmistakably genuine.
"To think that the one coming to receive us today would be an old friend."
The scarred man strode forward, fist pressed to palm in salute, his voice resonant and carrying.
"It has been a long time, Centurion Yu."
That title — "Centurion Yu" — was delivered with full-lunged warmth and effortless familiarity.
Yu Wenqiu's expression shifted into something slightly delicate.
Centurion...
That was a mid-level rank in the Zhènyè Division — neither particularly high nor low. It was also the record of her years of frittering time away in the Great Qian.
Back then, her senior martial brothers and sisters from the same cohort had either earned combat distinction and risen to senior officer, or secured postings in the core departments as honored retainers. She, by contrast, had deployed a masterful technique of professional idling, and had sat, immovable, in the same Centurion post for three straight years — right up until she returned to the sect.
Yu Wenqiu gave an awkward laugh, her peripheral vision sliding guiltily toward Gu Chengming. She pulled her dignity together and returned the salute.
"Indeed — after all these years, I didn't expect to meet again."
In an attempt to recover some face, and to demonstrate both her current standing and her familiarity with Great Qian official ranks, Yu Wenqiu cleared her throat and said, with a warm smile:
"Look at you — cultivation much improved, clearly risen in station. Congratulations are in order, aren't they, Deputy... Commander Liu."
She had deliberately laid particular weight on the word "Deputy" — her intention being to convey the pleasant message of "I know my way around" and "I've been keeping track of you," while neatly naming his current position to warm the rapport.
However.
The instant the words "Deputy Commander" left her mouth —
The scarred man's face, which had carried a trace of warmth and nostalgia just moments before, collapsed entirely.
He lowered his clasped hands, tucked them behind his back, straightened from his slight forward lean, and his gaze drifted away from Yu Wenqiu to stare stiffly into the middle distance.
Yu Wenqiu: ?
What did I say wrong?
Isn't that the correct honorific? The Zhènyè Division's rules — black uniform with gold trim is Deputy Commander. I got it right! I followed proper official protocol!
Is it because I didn't use his name? Or because my tone wasn't warm enough?
Oh no. This is bad.
She had just finished boasting to Little Gu about her wide network and impressive standing — and now, at the very first meeting, she had already killed the conversation stone dead.
In the suffocating silence that followed —
The scarred man drew a slow breath, adjusted himself, and though his complexion was still not entirely pleasant, turned his gaze away from Yu Wenqiu and directed it toward Gu Chengming, who had been standing quietly behind her the entire time.
"And this is?"
His tone was clipped and perfunctory — the voice of someone going through the motions.
Yu Wenqiu had just opened her mouth to make introductions and salvage the atmosphere — when she saw that Gu Chengming had already stepped forward ahead of her, bowing with a smile:
"Inner sect disciple of Wenjian Sect, Gu Chengming, here to pay my respects to Commander Liu."
The word "Deputy" had been stripped out entirely. "Commander" rang out naturally and without effort.
The scarred man's eyebrow twitched sharply upward.
"Gu Chengming?"
He repeated the name. The corners of his mouth, in that instant, seemed to want to curve upward against his will.
Gu Chengming straightened up, his tone sincere.
"Even while still at the sect, this disciple heard Elder Yu speak of Commander Liu many a time — calling you a pillar of the nation, your cultivation reaching the heavens, and your honor and loyalty beyond compare. She said that when she first arrived in the Great Qian, it was Commander Liu's care and guidance that saw her through."
"Seeing you in person today, Commander — that bearing, deep as a pool, steady as a mountain — truly, hearing your name a hundred times is no match for seeing you once."
"This disciple is new to the capital. In the days ahead, if I should show ignorance of proper conduct, I hope the Commander will not hesitate to instruct me."
It was an admirably crafted speech. It naturally dropped the offending "Deputy," offered a compliment on Liu's bearing and cultivation, and as a side benefit gave Yu Wenqiu a graceful way out — implying that the Elder had, in fact, been speaking warmly of him all along.
The Deputy Commander Liu's stern face finally, genuinely, broke into a smile.
"Ha ha ha ha!"
The Deputy Commander laughed out loud and stepped forward, slapping Gu Chengming heartily on the shoulder.
"Well said! A fine Gu Chengming indeed!"
"Worthy of being a top disciple of Wenjian Sect — one look at you and you're clearly a cut above, and that mouth of yours — ahem — the way you talk is very easy on the ears!"
The more he looked at Gu Chengming, the more he liked what he saw, his eyes full of approval.
"Since you're someone Elder Yu herself has brought — you're family as far as I'm concerned. None of this 'instruct me' business — far too formal!"
"From now on, in this capital, if you run into any trouble, just drop this Commander's name. The Zhènyè Division's reputation still carries some weight."
"Many thanks, Commander!" Gu Chengming clasped his hands once more, his face full of grateful warmth.
"Ah, spare the formalities! Come, come, the carriages are already waiting — let's not stand here in the wind. I've had a welcome banquet prepared back at the Division. We'll eat and talk at the same time."
The two of them fell into easy conversation, and within moments had struck up a warm and lively rapport.
Yu Wenqiu opened her mouth, tried to insert herself, and found she couldn't get a word in edgewise.
I thought Little Gu and I were in the same boat.
How is it that he somehow looks completely in his element?
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