Chapter 12: The Seeds of Strength

Under normal circumstances, Yu Lingyue should have joined Hua Yaoyao’s lineage.

Now, however, everything had gone awry.

Still, she likely wouldn’t be able to enter his own lineage.

After all, he was a man of connections; strictly speaking, he wasn’t a disciple of any elder, yet no elder could refuse him when it came to cultivation matters.

If one were truly to categorize him, he belonged to the Sect Master’s lineage.

Despite this, their relationship was not one of master and disciple.

Upon hearing Yu Lingyue’s words, the assembled crowd fell into a prolonged silence, their gazes then involuntarily drifting towards Mu Xianxian.

Mu Xianxian offered a faint smile and spoke.

“Your discerning eye is quite sharp, little girl, but I have no intention of taking on disciples at this moment. Please choose another.”

A flicker of disappointment immediately surfaced in Yu Lingyue’s eyes.

In truth, she was unaware of the relationship between Mu Xianxian and Qin Yangjun.

Her desire to join Qin Yangjun’s lineage stemmed purely from the recent trial, which had piqued her interest in this Chief Senior Brother.

The ability to cultivate an individual like Qin Yangjun suggested that his master would be exceptional, both in terms of strength and moral character.

It now seemed her initial assessment was correct; Qin Yangjun’s lineage was indeed the strongest within the Yuqian Sect.

Yet, she had never imagined that Qin Yangjun’s master would be the illustrious Radiant Sun Immortaless.

Since joining the Sect Master’s tutelage was not an option, she decided to choose the elder she had researched before her arrival.

Thus, Yu Lingyue became a disciple of the Third Elder.

The Third Elder, it seemed, had emerged as the true victor of this trial.

She had taken on two disciples in one fell swoop.

On the journey back, Qin Yangjun, walking beside them, appeared lost in thought.

Although the plot had deviated somewhat, the main storyline appeared unchanged; after a circuitous path, the protagonist still entered the Third Elder’s lineage.

It was from this point that her camaraderie with Hua Yaoyao would begin to blossom.

Of course, deep affections could not develop overnight, so Hua Yaoyao would likely not become Yu Lingyue’s close companion immediately.

For now, Qin Yangjun could only pray that his Cold Water would play its intended role.

“What are you pondering?”

Mu Xianxian’s voice suddenly resonated by Qin Yangjun’s ear, making him realize that his elder sister, the Sect Master, was also accompanying him.

Qin Yangjun offered a slight smile, knowing he could not possibly voice the thoughts swirling within his mind.

“Nothing, just some matters concerning cultivation.”

“Cultivation?”

Mu Xianxian raised an eyebrow.

Then she smiled, a beautiful smile that shone like the nascent rays of the morning sun.

“So, you’ve finally realized the importance of strength, have you?”

Qin Yangjun nodded gently.

Indeed, the Heavenly Ranking Martial Competition was currently the most significant source of pressure for him.

“Pressure is a good thing. For the Heavenly Ranking Martial Competition three days from now, your sister eagerly anticipates your performance.”

Mu Xianxian was keenly aware of Yueyao’s current strength, knowing full well that her younger brother would absolutely be no match for her.

He would lose, and it would be a devastating defeat.

Yet, this was precisely what Mu Xianxian wished to see.

Under her protective wing, Qin Yangjun’s path of cultivation had been far too smooth.

The Cultivation World was a harsh place, and she couldn’t always shield him; it was time for him to experience the bitter taste of failure.

“Alright…”

Qin Yangjun let out two dry laughs.

Knowing the plot, he understood that his sister was preparing to witness his impending embarrassment.

It had to be said that Mu Xianxian was, in fact, a conscientious and responsible older sister; without her constant pampering, the Qin Yangjun in the novel would have become a major villain, not merely due to the War Lord’s Rebellion, but more so because of his own inherent flaws.

After bidding farewell to Mu Xianxian, Qin Yangjun returned to his small estate.

Pushing open the door, he was greeted by a table laden with dishes, and Ah Ling’s slender form resting by the table, her even breaths reaching Qin Yangjun’s ears.

Qin Yangjun smiled helplessly, recalling how he had explicitly told her not to wait for him before he left.

Qin Yangjun quietly stepped into the room, removed his outer robe, and draped it over Ah Ling.

He then quietly finished the now-cold meal.

Ah Ling’s cooking remained as exquisite as ever; though the dishes had grown cold, Qin Yangjun still found them delicious.

After finishing his meal, Qin Yangjun felt no inclination towards sleep.

He gazed out the window at the sky, where the bright moonlight poured down.

Qin Yangjun understood that his early conflicts with the protagonist, as the villain, could all be avoided.

He could become the revered Senior Brother whom they all admired.

However, once the War Lord’s Rebellion commenced, he would inevitably be forced onto the opposing side of the protagonist.

The only benefit of treating the protagonist kindly now was that, in the future, when she wielded her blade, she might do so with a touch more swiftness.

Therefore, a path of ‘clinging to the protagonist’s thigh’ (TL Note: A Chinese slang term referring to relying heavily on a powerful individual for support or protection) was fundamentally impossible.

He had to embrace this role as the villain, whether he wanted to or not.

This Sword of Damocles, he could not remove.

Only by growing stronger could he perhaps circumvent his destined fate.

To grow stronger…

As he pondered, Qin Yangjun suddenly recalled something.

He himself possessed an Upper Realm bloodline, granting him an exceptionally prominent identity.

Within his memories lay several extraordinarily powerful cultivation techniques.

However, the Qin Yangjun in the novel had deemed them too difficult, too slow, and too troublesome, thus neglecting to cultivate them.

Yet, that one cultivation art, one secret chant, and one technique were existences akin to ‘bugs’ (TL Note: A term from gaming, referring to something that is extremely overpowered or broken).

In the later stages, after the protagonist’s party acquired these three items, their combat prowess skyrocketed.

Precisely because they were so formidable, they were difficult to cultivate; could he now pick them up and begin practicing them?

With this thought, Qin Yangjun closed his eyes and began to recall the memories etched into this very body.

As Qin Yangjun delved into his memories, golden characters began to materialize around his body, and his Qi slowly emanated outwards.

The spiritual energy, originally a fiery crimson, now unexpectedly radiated a golden aura.

Three days passed in the blink of an eye, and the Heavenly Ranking Martial Competition arrived as scheduled.

For those three days, Qin Yangjun had not stepped outside his dwelling, dedicating himself entirely to studying the cultivation technique stored within his memories.

The day he finally emerged was the morning of the fourth day, and an unyielding sorrow shadowed Qin Yangjun’s brow.

The moment Qin Yangjun stepped out, Ah Ling rushed to greet him, her pretty face etched with worry upon seeing his expression.

“Young Master, are you alright?”

“It’s nothing.”

Qin Yangjun waved a dismissive hand, acknowledging the true difficulty of the cultivation technique; after three days of relentless, sleepless exploration, he hadn’t even grasped a superficial understanding.

It seemed his status as Chief Disciple was truly about to be lost.

‘So be it, then; if it’s lost, it’s lost. While that event was the best opportunity, it wasn’t the only one.’

‘Losing this particular chance certainly wouldn’t mean his demise.’

With this realization, a significant clarity settled within Qin Yangjun’s mind.

“Young Master, you must be hungry. These are some pastries Ah Ling made; please try them first.”

With that, Ah Ling waved her small hand, opening the storage pouch at her waist, and a delicate wooden box materialized in her grasp. She placed the box on the nearby stone table, then casually produced a pot of tea.

Evidently, she had prepared everything in advance.

Ah Ling’s care was utterly meticulous, and as a ‘high-quality homebody’ (TL Note: A self-deprecating term for someone who prefers staying at home, often associated with introverted hobbies) from the 21st century, Qin Yangjun found it somewhat unsettling.

Nevertheless, considering her sincere intentions, he took a seat.

After he finished the pastries, Ah Ling again waved her small hand, and the utensils vanished.

In their place appeared a blood-red longsword and another wooden box.

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