After years away, any normal dorm room would have been buried under thick dust.
Fortunately, before they left, Tang Yueling had set up an automatic dust-cleaning array.
Even with no one living there, the room remained spotless, exactly the same as the day they departed, as if they had only stepped out yesterday.
For Su Qing, the return-to-sect routine was always the same sacred ritual:
Four years later, the epic war between Su Qing and Orange King remained as fierce as ever.
Logically, after completing such an arduous mission, everyone should have been entitled to a long, lazy vacation.
Yet for some reason the entire sect was wrapped in a tense, storm-is-coming tension.
Some students didn’t even bother resting.
The moment they got back they rushed to Wuya Pavilion, dumped everything they’d earned, converted it into contribution points, snapped up inheritances or cultivation resources, then immediately secluded themselves without even catching their breath.
This was deeply unnatural. It went against basic human nature.
It wasn’t that humans were inherently lazy; it was just that after being wound tight for so long, everyone deserved a little slack.
Su Qing smelled something off.
As someone reasonably well-informed, she quickly dug up the reason.
Sword Sect had four school years.
Each year traditionally contained four major secret realms or missions. Apart from regular classes and minor tests, every year also had two big exams.
Their first year had already gone through the Dragon Boat Secret Realm and the Beast Tide Outbreak; half the academic year was over.
Which could only mean one thing: Midterms were coming.
Finals were the only exam that decided whether you advanced to the next year, but midterms carried damn participation scores.
More importantly, rumor had it the sect was preparing a fat pile of rewards for the top ranks.
Wasn’t this just forcing everyone to roll up their sleeves and involute like mad?
Su Qing sucked in a cold breath.
She cultivated diligently enough and her combat strength was solid; passing shouldn’t be a problem.
But still; students. Exams. Who actually likes exams?
Getting thrown straight back into testing the moment they returned was downright inhumane.
For a while the confession wall exploded with posts: some passive-aggressive shade, some outright naming names and cursing the sadist who scheduled this. When in doubt, just curse Sect Leader Wang Quan; you’d never be wrong.
Cursing was mandatory, but so was grinding.
Suddenly the campus was full of people practicing sword forms everywhere.
Wuya Pavilion’s study halls were packed day after day.
Before dawn you could already see students hugging scrolls and meditation cushions, lining up at the door to grab seats.
Even the various school buildings had students sitting cross-legged on cushions reviewing techniques.
The earth-fire beneath the Artifact Refining Pavilion and Pill Hall never went out; weapons and pills were refined to perfection, incidentally roasting the Body School students below to a crisp outside and tender inside.
Su Qing wasn’t in a hurry to join the great involution festival.
No matter how bitter, she refused to wrong her sword; first she had to find some high-grade food for Man Qing Sword.
She’d come back empty-handed in terms of storage bags, but she was extremely confident she could earn a terrifying number of contribution points, because she possessed one heaven-defying treasure.
Selling something this big, however, required considering her own safety and choosing the buyer very carefully.
Otherwise both seller and buyer might end up dead.
So, even though she trusted many people in the sect, in the end she locked onto only one person: Wang Quan, Sect Leader of Sword Sect, the strongest sect under heaven.
In other sects, an ordinary disciple asking for an audience with the sect leader was harder than ascending to heaven.
In Sword Sect it was laughably easy: the sect leader loved chatting with teachers and adored chatting with students even more. Every month he randomly picked a few lucky souls for “heart-to-heart talks” in his office, and he actively encouraged students to sign up themselves.
No one knew what was discussed, only that whoever came out looked like wilted cabbage.
It was exactly like being randomly called in by your university counselor for a one-on-one.
You didn’t know whether to tell the truth or not, scold them or not; pure social torture.
Now, though, they were skipping the counselor and going straight to the sect leader for psychological counseling.
That took real courage.
Thus Su Qing successfully signed up and snatched a precious face-to-face slot… actually no one was fighting her for it.
The previous few times she’d visited the sect leader’s office, she’d been swept in by a casual wave of his fan and dropped straight from the sky. Walking in properly through the front door like a normal person was a first.
The office itself was simple, almost austere, no different from any other administrator’s.
The only special feature was a beast-head knocker on the door; Su Qing guessed it was some kind of advanced access restriction, equivalent to modern fingerprint scanners.
She and the bronze beast-head stared at each other for a long time.
The beast-head suddenly spat the ring out of its mouth onto the floor and snarled ferociously, “Who the hell are you?! What are you doing here?!”
Su Qing wasn’t sure whether she was supposed to pick the ring up. Cautiously: “Here for a heart-to-heart with the sect leader.”
“Oh.” The beast-head froze for a second, then instantly changed its tone. “When you leave, no matter what you want to say, go to a corner where I can’t see you, okay? Otherwise if the sect leader asks me I’ll be in a very awkward position.”
If it didn’t repeat things the sect leader got mad; if it did he’d smack it with his fan. Men were needles at the bottom of the ocean; life was hard.
Su Qing nodded solemnly. “Got it.”
At that moment came the frantic clatter of running inside, as if something was impatiently urging the door open.
The beast-head snorted, “What’s the rush?” but obediently swung the door wide anyway.
A rattan chair suddenly sprouted four legs and came scampering out like an excited puppy.
It slammed into Su Qing’s waist, caught her as she fell, then happily galloped back inside with her in its arms and skidded to a halt in front of the desk.
The door slowly closed behind her.
Su Qing looked up in bewilderment, only to discover that at some point the sect leader was already seated behind the desk, waiting.
Wang Quan looked exactly the same as when she’d left: neither older nor fatter, still the sickly scholar who coughed every three steps.
He wore spotless white robes, gently waved a plain white folding fan, and had a simple, perfectly round white sword hanging at his waist; the very picture of an elegant young master.
People say “dress for a funeral in all white,” and Wang Quan’s face was indeed striking. When he kept quiet he looked ethereal and refined, but the more Su Qing stared, the more uncomfortable she felt. She’d never worked a corporate job, yet somehow she instinctively understood how overworked employees felt when looking at the boss.
On the low table between them, a miniature landscape automatically began the “winding stream banquet”: clouds and mist swirled, teaware clinked merrily, and an invisible hand started whisking, boiling, and pouring tea.
Finally, a translucent celadon cup holding a pool of clear tea landed in front of Su Qing.
She had planned to politely decline, but the moment she smelled the astonishing spiritual energy inside, she immediately changed her mind. She downed it in one gulp and pushed the cup forward. “Another.”
Just that single mouthful turned into droplets of liquid spiritual energy that nourished her dantian, then slowly flowed through every meridian.
The spring-like fragrance carried misty spiritual energy across her face.
Unknowingly, her spiritual energy completed a full minor circulation, and the bottleneck that had been stuck for ages loosened; she directly broke through to Foundation Establishment layer six.
Exactly as Lin Hebai had said: after her soul-and-body tempering, her foundation was already terrifyingly solid; she had simply lacked sufficiently dense spiritual energy.
Yet this one cup contained spiritual power so pure and abundant it was clearly no ordinary item.
Su Qing had worked in spirit tea shops and co-owned a medicinal herb chain; forgive her limited experience, but she had never encountered anything this extraordinary.
Her eyes instantly lit up like searchlights.
If she’d known heart-to-hearts with the sect leader came with benefits like this, she’d have been lining up to spill her soul every week.
Wang Quan didn’t stint; he let the teaware refill her cup, only drawling, “A cow chewing peonies, truly.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Do you know where this tea came from?”
Without waiting for a guess he answered himself, looking extremely pleased: “Ransom from the Song Clan.” He added happily, “One of many.”
“Song Clan ransom?”
Tang Yueling and Tian Ning had mentioned it in passing.
Su Qing reacted instantly: “Sect Leader, since it’s the Song Clan’s ransom, we contributed to that too. In that case, we don’t need much; half a canister of tea leaves would be fine.”
“That can be arranged,” Wang Quan said generously, then smiled like a fox. “It’s just that fifth-grade Dew of Spring Bloom requires fifth-grade spiritual spring water to brew, plus auxiliary spirit flames tended day and night to activate its full power. What do you plan to trade for all that?”
“I do have something,” Su Qing nodded. “Whether it’s enough for what you’re asking, you can decide after you see it. Only; do you have any treasure here that can completely block outside observation?”
Right there in his hand was exactly such a treasure: the Wuwei Fan (Fan of Non-Action).
He flicked it open and gave a lazy wave.
Instantly the two of them dropped into a pure white space.
Su Qing tested: not only could no divine sense from outside enter, even her own divine sense couldn’t leave.
Only then did she relax completely.
She raised her hand and began drawing in the air.
Very quickly, a complex, ancient symbol took shape.
Because what she wanted to sell was none other than the Owl Talisman. Or more precisely; the still-undeciphered Ancient Divine Script hidden behind the Owl Talisman.
She didn’t need to understand the divine script herself; someone would. She didn’t have the answer, but the question alone was worth a fortune.
If Sword Sect could decipher this Ancient Divine Script, the sect’s strength would skyrocket.
Even if, for various unspeakable reasons, they chose not to announce it, she; bathed in Sword Sect’s good fortune; would still benefit immensely.
Win-win no matter how you looked at it.
And if Wang Quan had already seen the Owl Talisman and wasn’t interested, she still had a backup: the information that True Person Taihe had attempted body-seizure. Senior Sister Wei Yue had taught her long ago: in the cultivation world, information, intelligence, and promises were sometimes more valuable than physical treasures.
Wang Quan had been watching her draw with leisurely amusement, but the instant the symbol finished forming, his pupils contracted sharply.
He spoke softly, voice carrying a trace of shock:
“Heavenly Secret Alliance… The Heaven-Stealer.”
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