Dormitory Crisis

The second cafeteria had plenty of part-time job postings, displayed as flyers outside shops.

They detailed hours, pay, and required skills, offering fair wages. Unfair pay would land a shop on the confession wall, blasted by students. Merchants, keen on student business, avoided such trouble.

Among the jobs, the courier station paid best—an hourly spirit stone, or 100 spirit seeds.

Su Qing saw it as a delivery hub, handling goods transport. The Sword Sect, perched on a mountain, wasn’t easily accessible, and while the sect managed its own supplies, students’ needs weren’t fully met.

The Sword Sect wasn’t just a school but a major power with strict management. Non-essential sect members couldn’t enter or leave freely. Sending handwritten letters, sharing saved pills or spirit stones, or mailing local specialties to kids craving home flavors all went through the station.

Thus, the station’s business boomed year-round, and “Swift Envoys” were always in demand.

But the job had a hard requirement: sword flight speed had to hit a standard—roughly 100 kilometers per hour, highway car speed.

Terrifying. Su Qing couldn’t do it.

She didn’t deserve that pay anyway.

After surveying jobs, she settled on a clerk position at the spiritual tea shop.

The manager, Lin, a shrewd short man, saw her clear speech and quick movements and agreed to hire her. She’d work Monday through Wednesday at the tea shop, Thursday and Friday at the cafeteria as usual.

Saturday and Sunday were free—one for catching up on cultivation, the other for small business ventures to earn more.

The tea shop resembled a teahouse, selling tea, sweets, pastries, and snacks. The hourly pay was 15 spirit seeds, a solid deal for effort and reward.

Working three days a week, four hours daily, she’d earn 180 seeds weekly, 720 monthly—seven spirit stones. With her four saved stones, that was 11 monthly.

At this rate, a 500-spirit-stone sword would take 45 months—just 3.8 years.

Just 3.8 years.

Su Qing felt dizzy, her future dim.

No matter. With hard work, she’d get there eventually…

Not waiting 3.8 years, she resolved to earn 500 spirit stones in six months. A year at most—no more. It’d be absurd if others mastered sword flight while she lacked a decent sword.

Since she was at the second cafeteria, she grabbed a quick lunch before heading back.

She didn’t linger, recalling a pressing issue.

When she left, the dorm was riddled with sword holes, the roof pierced by the Red Rust Sword.

Though the culprit was those unruly divine swords—and not targeting her—as a dorm resident, she should help fix it.

Even if broke, she could contribute effort.

But returning to Dorm 707, Su Qing found things weren’t as expected.

Indeed, after the Sword Tomb opened, she was the last to leave. The dorm was a wreck—furniture shattered, walls scarred by sword qi, paint peeling, the roof exposing the sun.

Now, it looked almost normal, even more luxurious. A lacquered red sword rack, studded with gold and silver pearls, adorned the wall—likely for the Red Rust Sword.

But the sword was absent.

Instead, the floor was littered with cut hair.

The hair’s owner, Tang Shitao, sobbed into her hands. “I just scolded it for touching Yueling’s things. Who knew it had such a temper…”

Tang Qimei comforted her sister, patting her shoulder.

Tang Xueshan frowned, thoughtful, glancing at Tang Yueling. “…Yueling.”

Tang Yueling fumed, “That ugly sword’s out of control! It dares cut a girl’s hair just because I scolded it!”

She pulled Tang Shitao close. “Don’t cry, Shitao. I’ll make this right.”

Wiping tears, Tang Shitao forced a smile. “It’s your fated sword, and I spoke harshly first…”

Tang Yueling cut her off. “It can’t act so lawlessly. You’re my sister; we share blood. If it dares this to you today, it’ll do it to me tomorrow.”

She handed over a priceless beauty pill bottle. “Take these. Your hair will regrow in three days. Didn’t you mention Lingbao Pavilion’s new artifact series? I’ll gift you one of each, plus Lingyi Hall’s latest season robes. Like that?”

Before Tang Shitao replied, Tang Xueshan spoke. “Yueling, don’t spoil her too much.”

Tang Yueling grinned, raising a brow. “Spoiling? I haven’t been good enough to you all. I just want Shitao to cry less.”

Tang Shitao tugged her sleeve. “As long as Sister Yueling doesn’t blame me or fight with the Red Rust Sword, I won’t cry.”

But Tang Yueling’s smile faded. “As its master, I’m responsible for disciplining it. No question.”

Su Qing, as always, had terrible timing, walking into the most awkward moment.

Best to slip away.

She pieced it together: the Red Rust Sword messed with Tang Yueling’s things, Tang Shitao scolded it, the sword retaliated by cutting her hair, Tang Yueling scolded it, and it ran off.

Tang family drama—she shouldn’t meddle. Su Qing stood in the hallway, debating whether to enter.

Just then, Tianning, in black, approached to open the dorm door.

Su Qing said, “Hold off. They’re discussing private matters.”

Expecting Tianning to brush her off—or snap, “None of your business,” as she had to Tang Yueling—Su Qing was surprised when Tianning paused, standing quietly at a distance, her glassy black eyes staring blankly ahead.

Su Qing smiled.

When unsure what to talk about, swords were a safe bet with sword cultivators.

Tianning’s waist held the Xuejin Sword.

“It’s beautiful,” Su Qing said.

Tianning glanced at her sword, her cold face softening. “Mm.”

“How’s your injury?” Su Qing asked.

Tianning froze, nodding stiffly. “Fine.” She added, “Thanks for asking.”

Su Qing’s eyes widened. “Thanks for talking to me.”

Tianning wasn’t chatty, and Su Qing didn’t push. They waited quietly, not awkwardly, until the dorm’s voices stopped. Tang Xueshan, Tang Qimei, and Tang Shitao exited, and they entered.

Inside, Tang Yueling lounged on her chaise, brows furrowed, visibly annoyed.

Su Qing mentioned dorm repairs. Tang Yueling waved it off—her belongings caused the mess, so she’d cover costs.

But seeing Tianning and her Xuejin Sword, Tang Yueling’s tone turned pointed. “Those swords came for someone else, yet that person sits calmly, offering nothing.”

Su Qing knew Tang Yueling didn’t care about money—she was picking a fight with Tianning.

Her head ached. Why the sudden tension?

Tianning didn’t back down. Face cold, she strode to Tang Yueling.

Unfazed, Tang Yueling sat up, smiling dangerously. “What, am I wrong?”

Su Qing intervened. “Talk it out—no fighting, no arguing!”

If they clashed, her mortal body couldn’t stop them. She had to defuse this.

But Tianning wasn’t fighting or arguing. She opened her pouch, dumping its contents onto Tang Yueling’s table.

All fragmented spirit seeds—no full stones—clattered across the surface.

She took ten seeds, pushing the rest to Tang Yueling. “Here’s 865 spirit seeds for now. I’ll cover the rest later.”

This was her own earnings, not Qi Clan money.

Tang Yueling glanced at the ten seeds Tianning kept, then the pile like a melon heap, her face darkening. “Are you mocking me?”

Tianning misunderstood, explaining, “The ten are for food.”

Tang Yueling cut her off. Pinching a seed, she crushed it to dust, stood, and faced Tianning expressionlessly.

“Qi Tianning, a piece of advice. If you want to cut ties with the Qi Clan, this isn’t enough.” She smirked, a hint of malice in her brow. “You’d need to return your blood, flesh, and genius bones, wouldn’t you?”

Tianning’s eyes reddened instantly.