She Dominates the Immortal Realm with Her HP Bar-Chapter 73

Yan Luoyue’s response was so well-reasoned that it nearly warranted a formal presentation.

“Don’t worry, Senior Brother. The population structure of our peak is quite simple—it’s been aging for decades, with almost no changes in membership. Just look at me, Manshuang, and Second Senior Brush. No one would ever mistake our seniority.”

Mi Jichen immediately raised both hands in agreement. “Junior Sister makes an excellent point.”

Suddenly lumped into the “aging population” category, Jiang Tingbai: “…”

Outside the confines of the schoolhouse, Yan Luoyue noticed that Jiang Tingbai had become far more approachable than when he was her teacher. Likewise, Jiang Tingbai realized that his junior sister’s mischievousness had reached new heights since her student days.

Was this Yan Luoyue’s long-suppressed nature finally breaking free, or…

Jiang Tingbai’s gaze unconsciously drifted toward Ji Qinghong.

Ji Qinghong remained unflappable, serene as ever, even managing to shift the blame on the spot.

At this moment, his tone resembled that of a middle school teacher deflecting responsibility onto an elementary school instructor.

“If I recall correctly, you were the one who taught her the basics?”

Jiang Tingbai: “…”

In any case, the title “Second Senior Brush” was officially recognized by the brush in question and thus became the standard address within Radish Peak.

Occasionally, to elevate the elegance of their beautiful senior brush, Yan Luoyue would also call them “Second Senior White Jade Brush.”

Mi Jichen accepted this title with equal grace.

Perhaps to match the new nickname, the next time Yan Luoyue saw Mi Jichen, their robes were embroidered with a lively pair of “white jade lions frolicking with an embroidered ball.”

…

After settling the two youngsters on Radish Peak, Ji Qinghong left the mountain that very afternoon.

For the next several days, Yan Luoyue saw no trace of him.

She privately speculated that Ji Qinghong might have gone to meet with the sect leader and elders to discuss countermeasures against the Hongtong Palace and the behavior of various factions during the recent secret realm expedition.

As the saying goes, “When the rabbit’s away, the turtle and shrimp will play.”

During their master’s absence, the four disciples lived as happily as the three little pigs who had driven away the wolf.

First was Jiang Tingbai.

Though he had spent ten years teaching in Yunning Great Marsh, Jiang Tingbai seamlessly reintegrated into life at the sect.

He practiced his sword at dawn, went to the Assignment Hall in the morning to pick up a short-term task—regardless of its difficulty—and completed it by afternoon. On his way back, he would turn in the assignment.

From what Yan Luoyue knew, inner disciples were required to complete two short-term tasks per month unless they were in seclusion or on long-term missions.

Any tasks beyond those two could be exchanged for spirit stones.

Yet Jiang Tingbai left penniless each day and returned just as empty-handed.

He still wore the same faded sword robe, still carried the same unpolished sword at his waist.

The only thing that changed was the grasshopper-shaped tassel on his sword, which he refreshed daily with new plant materials.

Noticing this, Yan Luoyue couldn’t help but sigh inwardly:

—Ah, the legendary plight of a poor swordsman and his neglected weapon.

The mystery of Jiang Tingbai’s perpetual poverty had haunted Yan Luoyue throughout her childhood.

And it wasn’t as if he lacked the means to earn money.

In fact, if he wanted, he could easily amass wealth—whether by selling sword intent, taking on escort missions, or clearing out demonic cultivator hideouts.

At one point, Yan Luoyue had even tried handing him spirit stones directly, only to be gently refused.

Back then, she was just a student, and it wasn’t her place to pry into her teacher’s affairs.

But now that they were closer, she went straight to the point.

“Senior Brother, you still have a sum of spirit stones stored with me. When are you going to take them back?”

Jiang Tingbai paused before realizing that the “sum of spirit stones” Yan Luoyue referred to was her share of the profits from selling storage pouches to the Yi Sword Sect years ago.

He chuckled softly. “You still remember that? It was so long ago, I’d nearly forgotten.”

He reached out to ruffle her hair out of habit, but halfway there, he noticed that Yan Luoyue had grown half a head taller since her school days.

Though not quite a full-grown woman, she was no longer the round-cheeked little girl she once was.

She had always been more precocious than her peers, and treating her like a child now might not sit well with her.

With a silent sigh, Jiang Tingbai withdrew his hand and bent slightly at the waist instead.

“You keep holding onto them for me. My hundred-year period isn’t over yet—I can’t keep any spare wealth.”

Yan Luoyue had been waiting for this.

“So the spirit stones you’ve earned from recent tasks also went unclaimed for the same reason?”

Jiang Tingbai nodded.

“Senior Brother, I’ve heard about this ‘hundred-year period’ several times now. What’s the story behind it?”

At this question, the usually unflappable Jiang Tingbai finally showed a flicker of embarrassment.

He raised a fist to his lips and coughed lightly.

“Nearly a century ago, in my youthful recklessness, I accidentally damaged an important sect asset. Since it was unintentional, the sect only confiscated my earnings for the next hundred years as punishment.”

Yan Luoyue gave him a surprised look.

The words “youthful recklessness” simply did not align with the Jiang Tingbai she knew!

For some reason, in Yan Luoyue's mind, the eldest senior brother had always seemed like the epitome of composed elegance.

When he took on the role of "Master Jiang," he was a refined gentleman, and even in his younger days, he must have been as graceful as a jade tree in the courtyard.

In Yan Luoyue's imagination, even as a newborn, Jiang Tingbai was probably more well-behaved than the average baby—never crying or fussing, and perhaps even capable of changing his own diapers.

The thought of Senior Brother Jiang making a mistake… was truly hard to picture.

Before Yan Luoyue could say anything, Jiang Tingbai gave her a light pat on the shoulder.

"Alright, junior sister, no more questions," Jiang Tingbai said with a smile.

"Have you finished today's cultivation tasks? Four hours of meditation is non-negotiable—I just saw Junior Brother Wu heading to the training hall."

Yan Luoyue: "…"

Just like every mischievous child who pesters their aunt or uncle about embarrassing childhood stories only to be rewarded with a stack of practice workbooks, Yan Luoyue was promptly and firmly escorted to the training hall by Jiang Tingbai.

Peering into the room where Wu Manshuang sat cross-legged on a meditation cushion, Yan Luoyue sighed.

She waved dismissively at Jiang Tingbai without turning around, then stepped inside and took a seat on the cushion next to Wu Manshuang.

Watching his junior sister's antics, Jiang Tingbai couldn't help but smile, a familiar warmth rising in his chest.

—Though Yan Luoyue had advanced to the mid-stage of Foundation Establishment and grown half a head taller, some of her mannerisms remained exactly the same as when she was a student in the academy.

…

While eagerly exploring the Radish Peak, Yan Luoyue soon discovered that the hot springs at the back mountain were usually closed to the public.

However, Second Senior Brother Mi frequented the springs for his baths—he must have the key.

Having just finished her alchemy tasks for the day and with nothing else to do, Yan Luoyue decided to pay Mi Jichen a visit to "strengthen their bond."

She had barely knocked twice on his door when a slow, languid voice called out from inside, "Come in."

Mi Jichen’s appearance was androgynous, and his voice was equally neutral, carrying a peculiar, almost hypnotic cadence.

At first listen, it might seem unremarkable, but the more one heard it, the more addictive it became—leaving listeners craving more.

Yan Luoyue couldn’t help but wonder: Was this like the natural white noise of a brush gliding across paper?

With Mi Jichen’s permission, Yan Luoyue pushed the door open—only for her eyebrows to shoot up at the sight before her.

"…Second Senior Brother, what are you doing?"

A metal hook dangled from the ceiling, and a red cord tied around Mi Jichen’s feet looped over it, suspending him upside down.

With his arms crossed over his chest and his cascading black hair hanging straight down, his bare skin pressed tightly together, giving him the smooth, seamless appearance of a jade statue.

Combined with the drawn curtains, the dim and eerie silence, and Mi Jichen’s flamboyant red robes…

Then, a sudden gust of wind blew through the doorway.

With a creak, the door slammed shut behind Yan Luoyue.

Thanks to this dramatic touch, the scene’s unsettling horror reached its peak.

Yan Luoyue: "…"

To be honest, at that moment, her mind flooded with terms like "spirit summoning," "red-clothed ghost," and "hanged specter."

Mi Jichen lazily yawned. "Ah, Junior Sister, you’re here."

As he greeted her, he waved his sleeve.

The curtains drew back on their own, and the windows cracked open, allowing sunlight and fresh air to flood the room, dispelling the earlier gloom.

Mi Jichen smiled sheepishly. "I was just napping and hadn’t gotten up yet. Sorry for the odd sight."

Yan Luoyue: "…"

Her gaze drifted upward, lingering on the suspiciously shaped metal hook.

Second Senior Brother, you call this a nap?

If she hadn’t seen Mi Jichen hanging from the hook herself, Yan Luoyue would have assumed it was something a butcher used to hoist pigs!

Flipping upright, Mi Jichen landed as lightly as a butterfly.

Noticing Yan Luoyue’s subtle, troubled expression, he tilted his head in confusion.

"What’s wrong, Junior Sister? Do you have a problem with my brush stand?"

Yan Luoyue: "…"

She murmured, "Not anymore."

Of course! No wonder Mi Jichen slept upside down—he was a brush!

For a brush, resting with the bristles downward and the red-tasseled end upward was the correct posture!

It was the same logic as how tortoises liked to retreat into their shells—even in human form, Yan Luoyue preferred sleeping with her head under the covers.

With this sudden realization, all her confusion melted away.

When she explained her reason for visiting, Mi Jichen immediately agreed.

"Junior Sister, you want to visit the back mountain springs? Of course! I’ll take you there."

Second Senior Brother even enthusiastically suggested a group outing. "Should we invite Junior Brother Wu too?"

Yan Luoyue quickly waved her hands. "No, no, Manshuang and I can go separately. You can take him next time, Second Senior Brother."

Mi Jichen’s sense of gender and appearance was about as nuanced as a mannequin’s.

So as long as Yan Luoyue wore a swimsuit and a loose, dark robe, bathing with him was no issue.

Who would feel awkward about seeing an unclothed mannequin?

After all, Second Senior Brother didn’t even have nipples!

As Yan Luoyue and Mi Jichen made their way to the back mountain, he explained while unlocking the gate:

"The hot springs are where I usually cultivate. Since Master and Senior Brother Jiang rarely come here, I lock it to prevent spirit beasts from wandering in."

Here, Mi Jichen smiled guilelessly. "Ah, but I forgot about you and Junior Brother Wu. I’ll make keys for both of you later."

As soon as they stepped inside, a fragrant, humid mist enveloped them—milky-white vapor drifting everywhere.

True to her tortoise instincts, Yan Luoyue took a deep, contented breath, her expression relaxing instantly.

Beside the hot spring pool stood a modest stone tablet, its inscription obscured by the mist. Yan Luoyue waved a hand, summoning a breeze to clear the fog, revealing three carved characters: "Brush-Washing Pool."

Yan Luoyue: "…"

She glanced at Mi Jichen, connected the dots with his true form, then back at the tablet—suddenly understanding why their master and eldest senior brother rarely visited.

Mi Jichen noticed that Yan Luoyue, who had been so eager to explore the back mountain, didn’t immediately step into the pool. Instead, she cautiously peeked at the water first.

Recalling records about the Yunning Great Marsh, Second Senior Brother thought he understood.

Mi Jichen kindly reassured her, "It’s a hot spring—it steams, but it’s safe to soak in. No need to worry, Junior Sister."

——There are no hot springs in Yunning Great Marsh. Little Junior Sister must be curious because she’s never seen such a geographical feature before.

Yan Luoyue: "..."

Yan Luoyue coughed lightly. "I know this is a hot spring."

Mi Jichen looked at her with his clear eyes. "Then why hasn’t Junior Sister come in yet?"

Yan Luoyue murmured, "It’s just that after seeing the name of this hot spring, I suddenly remembered the story of Wang Xizhi washing his brush until the pool turned black..."

The hot spring water was a pale gold, so it was unlikely anyone had ever washed a brush in it.

Then again, even with Ji Qinghong’s mischievous tendencies, he probably wouldn’t dip his second disciple’s brush in ink to write something.

At least... she hoped not?

The golden-hued spring rippled gently, its soothing waves lapping against the edges where skin met water like a soft massage.

Yan Luoyue deliberately glanced at Mi Jichen’s hair and noted that the second disciple’s locks were jet-black, straight, and cascaded like a waterfall. Even when wet, they still looked luxuriously thick.

Without thinking, she couldn’t resist pinching a stray strand that drifted in front of her, dipping it in the water and rubbing it between her fingertips.

Mi Jichen felt the tug on his scalp and turned to her curiously.

"Little Junior Sister, what are you doing?"

"Ahem." Yan Luoyue feigned innocence and released his hair, letting it float back onto the water’s surface. "I was testing to see if it would fade..."

"Oh?" Mi Jichen also scooped up a lock of his own hair and vigorously rubbed it in the hot spring water.

Holding the strand up and shaking it a couple of times, the second disciple sighed regretfully. "Ah, it doesn’t fade."

Yan Luoyue tilted her head. From her submerged vantage point, she had a perfect view of Mi Jichen’s smooth, jade-like jawline.

When they had first met in the mountains, Mi Jichen had arrived barefoot, holding orchids and peonies, his beauty resembling a legendary mountain goddess.

Now, with his hair dampened by the steam, clinging to his shoulders and sticking to his jade-like cheeks, he looked even more ethereal.

What surprised Yan Luoyue the most was how Mi Jichen’s gaze, tone, and natural movements all carried an air of innate innocence.

If she hadn’t known his true nature, she might have genuinely mistaken him for a mountain spirit—one who dwelled deep in the wilderness, riding red leopards and accompanied by patterned foxes, as enchanting and romantic as a moving ballad.

"So, Senior Brother usually cultivates here," Yan Luoyue exhaled. "No wonder—soaking is definitely more comfortable than sitting on a meditation cushion."

Mi Jichen nodded in agreement. "But there’s another reason I cultivate here."

He pointed at the golden surface of the spring. "This hot spring is connected to the sect’s Wishing Pool. You can hear the wishes that flow downstream."

"Really?"

Yan Luoyue blinked in surprise and immediately strained her ears.

She heard the wind, birds, the rustling of branches and leaves... but none of the wishes Mi Jichen mentioned.

"Why can’t I hear anything?"

Mi Jichen smiled faintly and extended a slender, jade-like hand toward her.

"Little Junior Sister, touch me."

Yan Luoyue obediently pressed a fingertip to his palm.

Strangely enough, the moment their skin made contact, a flood of voices rushed into her ears.

Each wish was like a drop of water, and together they formed an ocean.

For a moment, Yan Luoyue felt as though she were standing in a bustling marketplace, countless fragmented phrases slipping past her ears.

Someone wished for lighter homework tomorrow, another hoped to excel in an upcoming exam.

Yet another prayed to find her lost spirit sparrow—a companion so dear it felt like family.

Every word carried a tiny hope, and these wishes surged like a tide, parting around Yan Luoyue only to crash against Mi Jichen’s heart.

Along with the wishes, Yan Luoyue also sensed the emotions behind them—anticipation, longing, and a hint of nervous sweetness, like biting into a fresh green olive.

After listening for a while, Yan Luoyue quickly categorized the wishes into two simple groups:

The first kind came from non-swordsmen.

The second kind came from swordsmen.

It wasn’t that Yan Luoyue was particularly insightful—it was just that the swordsmen’s wishes were unmistakable!

Some wished to be rich so they could pamper their beloved swords daily.

Others hoped to stumble upon money so they could afford sword maintenance tomorrow.

And then there were those who prayed for discounts from the blacksmith who maintained their blades, lamenting how their storage pouches were nearly empty by month’s end... Such practical, down-to-earth desires.

Yan Luoyue: "..."

Well, swordsmen never change, do they?

Just as she was about to withdraw her finger, a clear, resolute, and youthful wish suddenly rang in her ears.

The voice declared firmly: "I wish to surpass Jiang Tingbai!"

Yan Luoyue: "Huh?"

Who would’ve thought? The eldest senior brother was quite the figure among swordsmen.

Opening her eyes, Yan Luoyue lowered her hand.

Mi Jichen had clearly heard the wish too, and his smile took on a bright, expectant quality.

Yan Luoyue asked, "Second Senior Brother, doesn’t listening to these wishes all the time get noisy?"

Mi Jichen shook his head. "Not at all. This is how I cultivate."

As he spoke, he stepped onto the stone steps, bent down to pick up his robes, and draped them over himself.

Turning back, he glanced at Yan Luoyue with a questioning look: I’m going to continue my cultivation now. Would you like to join me, Little Junior Sister?

Yan Luoyue blinked, curiosity piqued.

"Sure! Wait for me, Senior Brother!"

...

Mi Jichen led the way into the mountains, cupping his hands near his lips and whistling a melodious tune.

At the sound, hundreds of birds fluttered out from the trees—some brightly colored, others with sleek feathers, and a few so plump they resembled little fluffy balls, their downy chests practically begging to be touched.

Mi Jichen extended his arm, and the birds perched on it as naturally as if it were a branch.

One by one, the second disciple gently stroked each bird’s head.

After receiving their pats, the birds chirped cheerfully, hopped a few times on his arm, then flapped their wings and soared into the sky.

The flock was gradually released under Mi Jichen’s careful hands.

Finally, only the roundest, chubbiest, most cotton-ball-like bird remained—one that reminded Yan Luoyue fondly of the toothpick bird, Hu Hu.

Mi Jichen cradled the little puffball but didn’t let it go immediately. Instead, he carefully offered it to Yan Luoyue.

"Huh?"

The source of this c𝓸ntent is freewebnøvel.coɱ.

"If you’d like, you can pet it."

Mi Jichen kept his hand outstretched, his smile radiant and his gaze as clear as water:

"Little Junior Sister, didn’t you just have a wish—'I want to squish this little bird ball'? I heard it."

"Ah... I did."

Yan Luoyue buried her fingers in the plump little bird’s warm, soft chest feathers, giving it an affectionate squeeze. At the same time, a flash of understanding crossed her mind.

"So this is your cultivation method, Senior Brother? It’s related to wishes?"

"More or less," Mi Jichen nodded. "Didn’t we just hear a wish about finding a lost spirit sparrow? I asked the birds to search for traces of it."

Mi Jichen brushed off a mossy stone in the forest and leisurely sat down, his bare feet sinking into the cushion of fallen leaves. A crimson tassel dangled against the jade-white curve of his foot.

"Now, we’ll just wait for the little ones to bring us news."

In less than half an hour, a bird returned, leading a petite spirit sparrow behind it.

Mi Jichen tapped the bird’s crest feathers with his finger, closed his eyes, and tilted his head slightly.

After just a few seconds, he opened his eyes again and murmured with a smile, "Ah, I see."

He turned to Yan Luoyue and explained, "It’s become a father. The mother bird built her nest far away. The hatchlings just emerged, and it’s been flying back and forth for days to gather food, with no time to return. That’s why its owner thought her beloved pet had gone missing."

Yan Luoyue asked, "So what do we do now…?"

"Let’s return the spirit sparrow first. After all, it was such an earnest wish."

As he spoke, Mi Jichen casually plucked a strand of hair from his own head.

Under Yan Luoyue’s stunned gaze, he used his hair—wait, wasn’t it supposed to be ink-proof? Why was it dripping ink now?—to hastily scribble a note.

After rolling up the note and tying it to the spirit sparrow’s leg, Mi Jichen beckoned to Yan Luoyue.

"Come ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‍along, Junior Sister."

The two of them slipped down the mountain together, passing through the woods, skirting the training grounds, and cutting through the dining hall before finally arriving near the outer disciples’ residential quarters.

The Guiyuan Sect’s territory was vast, so even outer disciples each had their own small courtyard.

Perched on an old banyan tree just outside the courtyard gate, Mi Jichen gently nudged the spirit sparrow’s back before releasing it.

From their vantage point among the branches, Yan Luoyue clearly saw the outer disciple sister fling open her door the moment she heard the bird’s call.

"Ah! You’re back!"

The sister happily rushed forward, cupping her hands to catch her beloved spirit sparrow.

The little bird, equally delighted, hopped up her arm to perch on her shoulder, nuzzling affectionately against her neck with its tiny head.

"There, there, I’m just glad you’re safe."

The sister giggled as the bird tickled her, finally lifting it from her shoulder after a moment.

She examined the companion who had shared so many years with her, her gaze both tender and slightly reproachful.

"Where have you been? I couldn’t find you for days—oh, look at you, you’ve gotten so thin!"

Just then, she noticed the slender note tied to the bird’s leg.

Quickly unfurling it, she read the slightly messy handwriting:

[Next time your little one goes out, let it carry some birdseed. It’s now a very capable father supporting four hatchlings.]

"!!!"

The sister stared at the note, then at the bird in astonishment.

The sparrow seemed to understand, chirping proudly and puffing up its willow-yellow chest.

"Wow, our Ya-Ya has grown up so much!"

She enthusiastically ruffled the bird’s head again. "But who was the kind soul who brought you back…?"

Not far away, the "kind-hearted pen" Mi Jichen sat on a high branch of the banyan tree, swinging his legs cheerfully in midair.

Yan Luoyue teased, "Is this the joy of doing a good deed?"

"Mn." Mi Jichen didn’t deny it.

He closed his eyes slightly, turning his face toward the sister’s courtyard with an expression of bliss—the kind one might wear before a lavish feast.

"She’s radiating happiness now, and the warmth of a stranger’s kindness has touched her… I feel that warmth too."

His lips curved upward as he admitted freely, "I like this feeling very much."

...

On the third day of Ji Qinghong’s continued absence, Jiang Tingbai received a paper crane missive on his master’s behalf.

Noting the insignia stamped on the crane’s wings—confirming it was routine sect correspondence—he unfolded it.

At the time, Yan Luoyue happened to be beside him, seeking guidance on a question.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the letter addressed Ji Qinghong as "Master of Sulu Hall."

"By the way, Senior Brother, how does the sect usually refer to our master?"

Outside, people often called Ji Qinghong "Demon Venerable Ji."

The title "Demon Venerable" didn’t imply any special status among demonkind—it was simply an honorific for high-ranking cultivators.

Similarly, exceptionally powerful sword cultivators were called "Sword Venerables," while formidable spellcasters bore the title "Dao Venerable."

Back in Ruyi City, Zhen Zhuor’er had respectfully addressed Jiang Tingbai as "Sword Lord" under the same convention.

But within the Guiyuan Sect, where everyone belonged to the same lineage, such formalities were unnecessary.

Typically, independent peak lords were referred to as "Lord of [Peak Name]."

However, given Ji Qinghong’s habit of changing his peak’s name faster than news could travel from the inner to outer sect, everyone had eventually settled on an alternative.

—Oh, it wasn’t "you know, that peak lord," though that was the colloquial shorthand.

In official documents, he was uniformly styled "Master of Sulu Hall."

After Jiang Tingbai’s explanation, Yan Luoyue nodded in understanding—then immediately followed up with another question.

During her recent explorations of Radish Peak, she’d not only located Ji Qinghong’s residence, Sulu Hall, but also a structure named after him: Qinghong Pavilion.

"So, are there buildings like 'Tingbai Cottage' or 'Jichen Tower' up here?"

"If so, can Manshuang and I claim spots for a 'Luoyue Television Tower' and 'Manshuang Big Ben'?"

Jiang Tingbai: "..."

His exasperation lasted only a moment before he hesitated, then softly added,

"Junior Sister… 'Sulu' is our grandmaster’s personal name."

Yan Luoyue blinked in surprise.

She suddenly recalled how, just yesterday, she’d noticed Sulu Hall and Qinghong Pavilion stood directly opposite each other, their entrances perfectly aligned.

If "Sulu" was the grandmaster’s name, then logically, Radish Peak should house six members.

So, this grandmaster was…?

Jiang Tingbai gave a slight nod, confirming her unspoken guess. "During the Demon Subjugation War in the past…"

He spoke only six words, yet it felt as though he had laid everything bare.

Yan Luoyue pressed her lips together. "I understand."

Given Jiang Tingbai's personality, he would never pry into his elders' affairs, much less gossip about them to his junior sister.

He simply gave Yan Luoyue a comforting pat on the shoulder—some things were better left unsaid.

...

A few days later, Ji Qinghong finally finished his business and returned to Radish Peak.

This time, he brought along a disciple from the sect's registry office.

Once Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang completed their formal apprenticeship ceremony, their names would be recorded as inner disciples in the official register.

To Yan Luoyue's surprise, Ji Qinghong kept the ceremony remarkably simple.

In Sulu Hall, he presented a portrait of their founding ancestor, Yun Sulü.

He did not hang the portrait at the front of the hall, nor did he stand behind it holding the scroll reverently with both hands. Instead, he stood slightly to the side, gripping the scroll with one hand and letting the lower end drape to the floor.

It was as if the portrait were not just an image, but a person standing there—Ji Qinghong slightly turned, as though speaking to her.

Yan Luoyue glanced up.

She noticed that Yun Sulü in the portrait appeared to be no more than sixteen or seventeen—a youthful maiden.

But in the cultivation world, methods to preserve one's appearance were plentiful. It was unclear whether this portrait was painted in Yun Sulü's youth, if she had chosen to remain in that form… or if she had truly been only sixteen or seventeen when she fell in the Demon-Subduing War.

Waving off Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang before they could bow, Ji Qinghong gazed at the portrait with a faint smile.

"No need for kneeling or incense. Radish Peak has stood on its own for a long time, but our lineage is short. The only tradition passed down through generations is that we don’t stand on ceremony."

When Ji Qinghong casually uttered the name "Radish Peak," the registry disciple's eye twitched in visible distress.

Ji Qinghong beckoned the two forward.

"Come, just greet your ancestor."

After sipping the tea offered by his new disciples, the ceremony concluded. The registry disciple raised his brush to record Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang's names—but then paused mid-stroke.

With utmost deference, he asked Ji Qinghong, "Honored Master of Sulu Hall, may I inquire… between these two junior siblings, who is the senior disciple and who is the junior?"