Flowers and Butterflies in the Candidate Hall

Wugou bowed to Zhu Manzhi and greeted him politely, then immediately retreated a few steps, stopping only when he was safely behind Ning Jing.

He had only just managed to suppress ‘Sister Ning’s’ volatile temper, and now it was best to speak as little as possible, avoiding anything that might provoke her. He could ‘frolic’ later, once she was gone.

Seeing Wugou’s somewhat cowardly demeanor, Ning Jing remarked curiously, “Hmph, kid, why are you suddenly so well-behaved? What exactly are you plotting?”

Wugou simply offered Ning Jing a smile, remaining silent.

Zhu Manzhi stroked his beard, his gaze carefully assessing the boy before him. A keen glint in Wugou’s eyes suggested intelligence, yet the way his gaze darted around hinted at cunning.

His forehead was full, his complexion ruddy, and his thick brows and large eyes conveyed a certain uprightness. Though his limbs were slender, indicating a pampered upbringing, his bones were not prominently defined, suggesting immense flexibility—likely from practicing some unique body-refining technique.

‘Heh, a promising candidate indeed. He must possess a spirit root; the question is, what caliber?’

Zhu Youji, too, was incredibly curious about Wugou, but with his master present, he dared not speak impulsively.

“You are Wugou, aren’t you?” Zhu Manzhi asked with a warm smile. “Go wait in the Candidate Hall up ahead. I will personally examine your spirit root aptitude shortly.”

This was a child brought by his disciple, Ning Jing. Though she claimed no relation, Zhu Manzhi found that hard to believe. Out of his affection for Ning Jing, he even found Wugou somewhat pleasing to the eye.

“Yes, Master,” Wugou replied, bowing obediently. He then bolted towards a large building not far away, as if fleeing for his life.

Watching Wugou’s hasty retreat, Ning Jing couldn’t help but click her tongue. “That scoundrel, always using his cleverness in the wrong places.”

“Haha, weren’t you just the same when you were a child?” Zhu Manzhi chuckled. “Even now, your temperament hasn’t changed much.”

“Oh, please. I was never as… promising as that brat,” Ning Jing retorted. As she spoke, she recalled the explicit paintings, a faint blush rising to her cheeks.

Her thoughts then drifted to the portrait still tucked away in her Qiankun pouch, and she found herself yearning to return quickly to leisurely admire the ‘person in the painting’ once more.

“Old man, this kid is a bit special,” Ning Jing began, pulling out a spirit jade slip as she spoke. “Normally, you only need to ensure he practices this body-refining technique well!”

A spirit jade slip was a device crafted by artificers using specialized techniques. It allowed cultivators to inscribe text and images with their divine sense, offering long-term preservation. These slips were commonly used to record various cultivation methods, pill formulas, and medicinal recipes.

“Body-refining technique? Is it the one this boy is currently practicing?” Zhu Manzhi took the jade slip and casually swept it with his divine sense. His expression instantly changed. “This… is the Imperial Jade Cauldron Body-Refining Technique!?”

Zhu Youji, standing behind him, also heard this, and his expression shifted dramatically.

The master and disciple exchanged glances, both turning to Ning Jing, awaiting her explanation. It was clear they both understood the profound implications of this particular body-refining technique.

“I cannot speak of it,” Ning Jing said with a cunning smile, though a hint of melancholy flickered in her eyes. “However, I believe you can both guess.”

“If that is the case… then let us not speak of it,” Zhu Manzhi conceded, his smile vanishing entirely as his expression grew solemn. “Fortunate people have their own destiny. I shall merely observe from the sidelines.”

Zhu Youji, however, remained as stoic as ever, as if he had heard nothing at all.

“Well then, old man, I’m off.” No sooner had Ning Jing spoken than she turned and began walking away, waving a hand behind her as she went.

“Farewell, Senior Sister,” Zhu Youji said, bowing respectfully to Ning Jing’s receding back.

“That brat, no manners at all. Who knows what scoundrel taught her…” Zhu Manzhi grumbled, only to turn and find Zhu Youji staring at him with a peculiar expression.

Realizing he had misspoken again, an awkward flush spread across his aged face. He cleared his throat. “Youji, go prepare the Spirit-Testing Stones.”

“Yes, Master.”

The Candidate Hall buzzed with a clamor, much like a classroom filled with mortal children.

Yet, the moment Wugou stepped inside, an abrupt silence fell. Hundreds of eyes turned to him in unison, though only for an instant, before each person returned to their own preoccupations.

“Ancestors! Please bless me to have a spirit root, to be chosen!” one person prayed incessantly, hands clasped together.

“Haha, I am exceptionally gifted; I’ll definitely be chosen! When I am, I’ll treat you all to the most expensive wine at Saint Water Palace’s South Market!” declared a man with a formidable presence, standing atop a table like a martial overlord.

“This is so slow. So many stinking men, it’s deafening,” a woman complained, her face etched with impatience, much like a spoiled young lady.

‘They’re nothing like the cultivators I imagined…’ Wugou thought, feeling a little speechless as he observed these individuals who seemed no different from common city folk.

He recalled his early days, before he attained the Dao, when he had journeyed thousands of miles, scouring famous mountains and great rivers in search of immortal traces. It had been an arduous quest.

Along the way, he had encountered many Daoists and swordsmen who shared his aspirations.

Each of them had possessed an air of elegance and freedom, imbued with an ethereal, immortal demeanor.

Compared to the scene before him now, it truly felt like two different worlds.

Wugou casually found a corner and sat down. From the Qiankun pouch his stepmother had given him, he pulled out a bag of melon seeds and began to crack them open.

Not long after, a young boy approached him.

“Hey, little brother, you certainly have a good way of enjoying yourself,” the boy commented.

“Here,” Wugou simply offered, extending the bag of seeds.

“Heh heh, well, I won’t stand on ceremony then,” the boy said, being quite forward. He grabbed a generous handful.

“My name is Hua Youdie, and I’m ten years old. May I ask, brother…”

“Wugou, eight years old.”

“Good, not much younger than me. We should have some things in common. Most people in this hall are much older than I am, so I don’t really feel comfortable talking to them,” Hua Youdie chattered, his mouth never stopping its work on the seeds.

Wugou glanced at the rapidly diminishing supply of melon seeds in Hua Youdie’s hand but said nothing.

‘Hua Youdie’ was an unusual name for a boy; it seemed his parents had played a trick on him. However, his appearance and demeanor were quite handsome and refined, so perhaps ‘Youdie’ suited him well enough.

“Wugou, look at that ‘fatty’ in the middle of the second row,” Hua Youdie said, gesturing with his chin.

Wugou looked over. The man appeared to be in his late twenties, but he wasn’t truly fat; rather, his muscles were exceptionally prominent, making him excessively bulky.

“That ‘fatty’ is named Zhang Biwei. I heard he has a Metal-element spirit root, though his rank isn’t clear. He’s incredibly gifted, having reached this level solely through his body-hardening techniques, without any formal body-refining cultivation. Saint Water Palace will surely take an interest in him.”

Wugou nodded, indicating his agreement.

Seeing Wugou’s interest, Hua Youdie became even more animated. He reached for another handful of melon seeds. “Now, look at that effeminate fellow on the outside of the fifth row, Lu Jinhan. Don’t let his name fool you; he has a Water-element spirit root, and it’s supposedly of a very high rank.”

Wugou naturally glanced over, and indeed, Hua Youdie’s description proved accurate.

Lu Jinhan was also a young man, clad in white robes, his hair tied with a white ribbon, and even holding a white fan. He had delicate brows and small lips. His appearance and demeanor were originally top-tier, yet for some reason, his aura was remarkably soft and alluring. ‘Could he be a woman disguised as a man?’ Wugou wondered.

Wugou observed him carefully for a moment, only to notice Lu Jinhan’s distinctly prominent Adam’s apple. ‘He’s a “real” man after all…’

Goosebumps erupted across Wugou’s skin the instant he confirmed Lu Jinhan’s male identity.

He quickly turned his head away, no longer able to look.

“Heh heh, you were disgusted too, weren’t you?” Hua Youdie chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye. It seemed he had anticipated Wugou’s reaction.

“But don’t underestimate that pretty boy,” Hua Youdie continued, emphasizing the word ‘he’ with a higher pitch. “His ambitions are incredibly high. He’s aiming for nothing less than the title of Saint Water Palace’s chief disciple, a direct disciple of Palace Master Luo Bingyan herself.”

Wugou turned to Hua Youdie, his gaze peculiar. “Are you not?”

“Heh heh, I know my limits,” Hua Youdie replied. “I’m only here because my family forced me. Let’s not talk about it.” When mentioning his family, Hua Youdie surprisingly showed the same expression Wugou had worn when looking at Lu Jinhan.

Wugou, naturally, noticed this, and his inner gossip-monger immediately ignited. A smile involuntarily touched his lips as he prepared to press for details, but to his dismay, Hua Youdie simply bid him farewell and stood to leave, leaving Wugou feeling utterly dejected.

Wugou reached his right hand to his left, only to grasp at empty air. Looking down, he saw that his bag of melon seeds had mysteriously vanished.

“Damn it…”