Chapter Nineteen: Teaching in the Main Hall

After much effort to see Su Bailu off, Lin Ze finally found a moment to examine the small Green Mountain in detail.

Unlike the other peaks, which boasted grand halls and tall towers, this mountain was home to only seven or eight humble wooden cottages. Aside from the largest one and the building dedicated to storing ancient texts, the rest clearly hadn't seen human habitation for a long time—the doorframes were thick with cobwebs and dust.

The vast summit felt desolate and empty.

Lin Ze wandered with Xiao Bao, making two casual rounds before stopping at the well in the center.

Within the Eastern Yue Sect, not every peak could be used to establish a school and accept disciples; there had to be a suitable source of spiritual energy, such as a vein of minerals or a spiritual spring, to sustain the cultivation of dozens or even hundreds of disciples.

This well was the foundation that had preserved the Green Mountain’s lineage for a thousand years. It was an exceptionally precious resource, coveted by all the peaks.

"Come, sit down," Lin Ze said, patting Xiao Bao’s head.

In the days before Green Mountain’s decline, seating around the spiritual spring would be determined by seniority and talent—the closer one sat, the greater the benefits for cultivation.

Now, with no one else on the mountain, Lin Ze simply sat at the well’s edge with the little one.

He opened his panel and selected the character card glowing with dazzling golden light.

Compared to before, the overall score had somehow risen to ninety-eight; it must be because Xiao Bao had transformed from a village child to a disciple of the Eastern Yue Sect—his status and influence had gone from zero to one.

Treating his greatest trump card with utmost care, Lin Ze decided to start with the most basic breathing technique.

"Close your eyes."

"Okay."

The medium-grade Eastern Yue breathing technique was the highest-level method accessible to sect disciples, derived from the sect’s foundational Eastern Yue Sword Manual.

Lin Ze’s theoretical knowledge was poor—he hadn’t even memorized all the acupoints within his body—but his understanding of the method had been directly implanted in his mind by the simulator, so he could recite it verbatim.

With Xiao Bao’s comprehension already reaching a terrifying level, it took only the time it takes to drink a cup of tea for wisps of white mist to condense in the air, racing eagerly to burrow into his body.

Lin Ze stroked his chin, noting the coy reluctance of the surrounding spiritual energy, and couldn’t help but marvel.

The same breathing technique, yet the difference was immense.

Glancing at his own pitiful talent score of three, he decisively pulled a Foundation Pill from his pocket.

Fortunately, cultivating immortality was not a competitive game—money was king.

After swallowing two pills, his internal foundation grew much more stable. Lin Ze turned to look at Xiao Bao, who was absorbed in the breathing exercise, his eyes filled with anticipation.

Legendary—how many rewards would that bring?

The little one sensed his master’s burning gaze, his face solemn, and he sped up his breathing exercise by another degree.

To be valued so highly by his master—he must not disappoint!

Soon, the white mist gathered like a dragon, exuding an aura that threatened to swallow mountains and rivers.

…

…

The next day.

Sunset painted the sky.

Two young disciples, dressed in short gray jackets, walked out of the lecture hall carrying book satchels.

The shorter one’s eyes were dull, his face despondent.

"Hey, don’t take it to heart. The Huayang Peak steward is always busy. We’ll try asking another lecturer tomorrow," his companion shrugged, trying to comfort him.

"Mm." Wang Yao lifted his head, forcing a smile, but his eyes were still filled with disappointment.

When he entered the sect, he chose to study the Mountain-Crushing Palm—a technique taught only by Huayang Peak’s steward. Unfortunately, ordinary disciples had no say in their choices and could only wait patiently.

He’d waited two months for Huayang Peak’s steward to lecture. Afterward, he brought more than ten pages of questions, approaching with utmost respect to seek answers.

Unexpectedly, the steward impatiently dismissed him and hurried out of the hall.

"It’s nothing. The steward may have had other matters to attend to. I’ll ask again next time," Wang Yao clutched his book bag, his lips tinged with bitterness.

"As long as you’re not too upset," his companion sighed.

Easier said than done—the courses for all the peaks were scheduled well in advance, and getting another turn with Huayang Peak would take at least two more months.

To avoid such situations, experienced disciples never chose techniques exclusive to a single peak. Wang Yao had been foolish; years ago, a steward from Huayang Peak had casually praised him for being suited to the palm technique, and ever since, he’d focused all his attention on it.

"Why not try joining Huayang Peak?" his companion suggested suddenly.

The sect treated ordinary disciples like them with a hands-off approach; each peak lectured in turn, and it was up to the individual to understand what was taught.

If one could enter a peak, there was a chance to become the disciple of a senior, receiving personal guidance and answers, and even rewards in cultivation resources—a prospect envied by all.

"It’s not that easy," Wang Yao replied with a bitter smile. "Huayang Peak only accepts disciples with mid-stage Qi Refining cultivation and requires mastery of a technique. I'm not qualified."

Without someone to answer his questions, he couldn’t even get started learning the technique.

To have a master answer your questions, you first had to reach mastery—a vicious cycle.

Only the naturally gifted managed to learn on their own, join a peak, and study more advanced techniques—a screening process used by all the peaks.

Just then, a mischievous youth swaggered over, smacking both their shoulders hard. "Hey, look over there!"

Wang Yao looked where he pointed and saw a familiar figure strolling with a female cultivator among the mountains, speaking warmly and charming her into laughter—it was the Huayang Peak steward who’d lectured earlier.

He froze, his whole body trembling.

"He’s busy courting someone. No time for you," the youth laughed uproariously and strode away.

"Yang Mu, you bastard!" Wang Yao's companion, furious, picked up a stone and hurled it after him. Everyone knew that ordinary disciples were neglected, but there was no need to rub salt in the wound.

"It’s fine," Wang Yao withdrew his gaze, his face touched with self-mockery. "He just likes to joke. No harm intended."

"Nonsense! He’s only cocky because he has a powerful cultivator for a relative outside the sect. He got accepted into a peak right away and now hangs around the lecture hall, showing off. Who knows what he’s gloating about!" his companion cursed angrily.

Hearing this, Yang Mu, already some distance away, suddenly stopped.

He turned back, expressionless, spat contemptuously on the ground, and sneered. "That fool—have you heard about Green Mountain? I’m going to check it out. Do you dare?"

Green Mountain?

The two were taken aback.

Wang Yao’s companion seemed to remember something, his face changing slightly. "Don’t listen to his nonsense."

According to disciples from the South Hall who handled scheduling, a new elder had arrived at Green Mountain yesterday, announcing he would answer questions daily for ten people, regardless of status.

This sparked dissatisfaction among the other peaks.

That morning, many disciples had been discussing it, their words full of ridicule.

"We can’t go—if we offend the other stewards over this, you know what’ll happen," his companion quickly grabbed Wang Yao when he saw him tempted.

"Yang Mu might have protection from his cultivator relative even if he leaves the Eastern Yue Sect, but you have nothing—your parents just sell pastries in town!"

"Don’t dare go?" Yang Mu raised an eyebrow, lazily turning away. "Then forget it. No wonder you’ll spend your whole life swallowing other people’s insults."