Upon hearing that, Kong Yun could not help but laugh. Young though he was, no youth elected by the united strength of the demon clans could possibly be some dullard.
With the Golden Feather Sword upon his back, he stepped forward. “So, all my striving to seek the Dao is merely a life spent in service to the immortal gate?”
Bai Luoluo’s dark hair tumbled like silk, her beauty cold as moonlight. She spoke with playful ease. “Such opportunities are coveted by many who’ll never have them.”
Xiaofeng hastened to her side. “Shijie, don’t mind him. He’s just some brat form the demon clan—sour grapes. Even if he had your lineage and your gifts… Pei! No matter how much virtue he piled up or good deeds he did, he could never turn out like shinier aaa.”
Around them, hot-blooded cultivators chafed at Bai Luoluo’s words but dared not speak.
Some, however, felt a quiet gloom. They had fought their way out of tiny sects, thinking themselves heaven’s chosen, only to find themselves akin to remnants of a disastrous defeat here. In truth, they were nothing but stepping-stones and expendables for the immortal sects.
Others did not agree, but fear kept them silent. They were not penniless itinerants. They had entered Wendao Palace to seek the Dao. To offend a sect’s eldest shijie such as Bai Luoluo would mean punishment at best, expulsion at worst.
Thus, most held their tongues. Only Chen Zongping of Qixia Sect drew his sword and levelled it at Bai Luoluo. “I don’t care who you are. Apologise to my shijie!”
Xiaofeng cursed and lunged forward. “Are you mad? Do you know who you’re pointing that at? This is the sect’s eldest shijie! The very one in the hearts of thousands of disciples!”
“Bold words! If we don’t beat you till your ancestors regret birthing you, we’re no disciples of Wendao Palace!”
Bai Luoluo gave a surprised little hum, at last deigning to look him over.
Sunset light spilled over the scene. The boy was in his mid-teens, a bluebird embroidered on his chest rising and falling with each breath.
He stood before his shijie, anger radiating from him, the corners of his brows and eyes tinged faintly red. The scene was striking enough to make one pause.
For the first time, a faint ripple stirred in Bai Luoluo’s heart. She lifted her wrist, the silver bells there chiming, and tilted her head towards the plain-faced woman. “Well now, Ugly. Someone’s actually willing to stand up for your honour.”
Kong Yun’s eyes narrowed, his teeth clicked softly. Chen Zongping roared, “You go too far!”
Bai Luoluo merely snorted. Her hands formed seals, delicate as butterflies in flight. In an instant, Chen Zongping was frozen in place by her magic, unable to move.
“Devilish woman! What do you intend?”
Lifting her skirts, Bai Luoluo paced forward—cold as moonlight, sly as a hare. “Why, I’m here to do a good deed, of course. What else would you think Wendao Palace is for?”
She raised her hand and slapped a nearby disciple full in the face. The strike was laden with magic; the new disciple, barely at Foundation Building Stage, stood no chance. He went spinning away like a kite with a cut string.
“You!”
“What’s the meaning of this? Injuring others without cause in broad daylight!”
The unfortunate disciple, struck without provocation, spat two mouthfuls of blood, grief and fury boiling in his chest. He was just reaching for his sword to retaliate.
Suddenly—
A small jade-green bottle tumbled down the steps with a series of soft clinks, releasing a faint fragrance that seemed to clear the mind.
The disciple snatched it up in a flurry, his expression caught between grief and anger… until the corners of his mouth betrayed him, splitting into uncontainable delight.
“Wendao Pills… the sort of treasure that can breakthrough stages…”
He had only ever heard of them once, in passing, from his Shifu, and even then had seen the old man treat them with the utmost reverence, locking them away behind layer upon layer of wards.
Yet here, before his eyes, was a bottle containing at least a dozen.
Bai Luoluo asked, “Aren’t you angry?”
The disciple burst into tears of joy, covered his face, and sank to his knees. “Not angry, not angry! Thank you for the pills, shijie! Thank you for the pills!”
Bai Luoluo’s lips curved into a languid smile. With her hands clasped behind her back, she strolled past Chen Zongping and Kong Yun without a glance.
From a distant vantage, Lang Cui murmured, “This situation will be difficult to resolve.”
Zhuo Qingyuan, however, seemed unconcerned. Stroking his chin, he said lightly, “Don’t worry. This isn’t the first time Bai Luoluo’s pulled a stunt like this. Let’s just enjoy the show. Otherwise, what? Let you sort it out? And how would you manage that?”
Lang Cui shook his head with a faint sigh. The elders had little interest in such matters. They were busy currying favour and seeking longevity. Petty squabbles between disciples were left for him and Zhuo Qingyuan to untangle.
Lang Cui had no wish to involve himself, and so yielded to Zhuo Qingyuan’s lead.
“By the way, Little Cui,” Zhuo Qingyuan went on, “have you thought over what I mentioned last time?”
Lang Cui considered. “Xu Youyu’s all right, but he’s from Tianyi Sect. Our Taiyi Sect and Tianyi Sect aren’t exactly on warm terms.”
“That’s easy enough,” Zhuo Qingyuan said with a grin. “Call me ‘good gege’ and I’ll smooth the way for you.”
Lang Cui pondered gravely, then broke into a fit of coughing. “Then I’d best die.”
Zhuo Qingyuan’s mouth twitched. Folding his arms, he sighed. “Fine, no need to call me anything. Who told me to be such a good friend? Just get the gifts ready. I’ll bring him over in a few days.”
Bai Luoluo now stood before a female cultivator, sweeping her gaze up and down. “Ugly face, thick waist, dull skin, and not the faintest notion of grooming… I truly wonder, how did you persuade a male cultivator to risk his life for you?”
The woman’s breath quickened. She had never been adept at verbal sparring; even with fury burning in her eyes, her lips clamped shut like a clam, her body trembling in mortified silence.
Bai Luoluo’s eyes narrowed. Without warning, she struck.
Paack!
The blow was swift and crisp, backed with Daoist force, hurling the woman to the ground with one cheek swelling rapidly.
Kong Yun took a step forward, the Golden Feather Sword on his back leaping free of its sheath.
“Devil woman! I’ll kill you!” Chen Zongping’s voice cracked with rage.
A sympathetic female cultivator stepped in to shield the fallen woman, helping her to her feet. Around them, eyes glinted with suppressed anger… yet no one spoke above a murmur.
Still, a knot of disciples clustered round Bai Luoluo. At their head, Xiaofeng blustered, “Back off! What do you think you’re doing?!”
The struck woman spat blood and staggered upright, her gaze icy, thick with forbearance and shame.
Chen Zongping’s eyes brimmed, his whole body straining against the binding spell to no avail. “Shijie!”
After their shifu’s death, Qixia Sect had been reduced to just two members. Honest by nature, Ah Zhu had taken in a stray boy, raising him as both shifu and shijie. She had laboured to bring them both into the Wendao Palace.
Her talent was modest; despite her best efforts she could not advance far on the Dao, yet she had remained for her shidi’s sake. She had neither the strength nor the standing to oppose someone like Bai Luoluo.
Another green bottle rolled to rest by Ah Zhu’s feet.
Bai Luoluo smiled. “Are you angry with me?”
“Devil woman!” Chen Zongping’s voice tore between a sob and a roar. “Let me go! Shijie! Shijie!”
The sixteen-year-old’s sword-hand shook uncontrollably. Around him, faces showed anger, indifference, shock, pity, and a thread of envy. These were Wendao Pills… If a single slap could earn them such a treasure, some would gladly take the blow.
So there are advantages to being ugly?
How enviable aaa.
Yes, Bai Luoluo was domineering, but she was still the immortal sect’s senior shijie. And after all, the one who had been struck had gained such a windfall, they’d likely be laughing in their sleep.
Truly, their shijie was a paragon of charitable virtue aaa!
The boy could almost hear such thoughts voiced aloud. His heart bled. That was his shijie!. The one who had saved him from the jaws of a wild dog, taught him his letters, and guided his first steps in swordsmanship.
How could the Dao be like this?
Why was the Dao like this?
Ah Zhu lifted her head, not meeting anyone’s eyes. Slowly, her fingers reached for the little green bottle.
“Shijie!”
The cry made her heart jolt; her lips trembled.
“Shijie! Don’t pick it up!”
She froze. One hand rose to her swollen cheek. It hurt, and perhaps a tooth had been loosened. But such pills were rare indeed. With them, her shidi could break through the first and second gates, and walk the Wendao path with ease.
Ah Zhu’s thoughts were simple. She only wanted to be good to her shidi. So she picked up the bottle.
With a snap of her fingers, Bai Luoluo released the spell that bound the boy.
Chen Zongping crumpled to the ground like melting ice. Ah Zhu’s composure broke; pushing through the crowd, she ran to him.
“Little Stone!”
His Dao-heart was shattering, crumbling away piece by piece. Sword still in hand, his face had gone paper white.
He forced a wretched smile, tears slipping one by one down his cheeks. “Shijie… does it hurt?”
“I’m fine. Are you hurt?” Ah Zhu asked in a rush, dabbing at his face.
Bai Luoluo, hands still clasped behind her back, said leisurely, “This is Wendao Palace. Here, there is a hierarchy you cannot defy. Only here is the Dao, only here can permit you to attain the Dao. Beyond these walls, all the scriptures you’ve heard are false, all the teachings false, the Dao is false. Pills like these, you will have them one day if you work hard enough.”
“Eternal life. Ascension to immortality.”
“Well, disciples. Do you understand?”
Chen Zongping rose slowly, leaning on his sword, his voice calm as still water. “So, to become immortals, you first want us to be dogs?”
Bai Luoluo’s brows lifted slightly. Her eyes swept over him, then she flicked her fingers. Ah Zhu’s pupils contracted; she stepped in front of the boy.
Ding!
The flicked force was intercepted by a gleaming Golden Feather Sword. Kong Yun staggered back a few paces but showed no sign of distress.
Bai Luoluo, an earlier-generation disciple, had already reached the Original Spirit Realm—two full realms above Kong Yun, who was still in the late Foundation Building Stage. That he could block her attack genuinely surprised her.
“Your ability isn’t bad. Is that an innate gift of your beast-blood? I’d heard a peacock made it into Wendao Palace, but I’d never seen you.”
Kong Yun sheathed his blade in a fluid motion. He had held back thus far, disliking humans. They were murderers of his kin, ever declaring, Those not of my race must harbour different hearts.
He had no desire to meddle, but this woman’s arrogance was intolerable.
Drawing the Golden Feather Sword once more. Even though he was facing someone two white realms higher, he was unintimidated. “You humans have a saying: show mercy when it is due.”
“I’d rather not—” Bai Luoluo began, but her words broke off as the long-silent boy suddenly lunged, sword flashing towards her with startling speed.
