Chapter Forty-Eight: Xiao Bao Tells a Lie

Inside the southern hall of the Eastern Peak Sect.

A rather unremarkable-looking young man led a small child into the hall.

“Well, if it isn’t Wang Yao.” Two outer disciples halted their steps, their eyes landing on his blue robe with a hint of surprise. “We ought to call you Senior Brother Wang now.”

“It’s been a while,” Wang Yao replied with a warm smile. He had few friends within the sect, most of whom he only exchanged the briefest of greetings with. After a few polite words, he continued forward with Xiao Bao in tow.

“Brother Yao, shouldn’t we be lining up?” the little one asked, blinking up at him.

“In principle, yes. I don’t really mind it, but since all the other mountain disciples are queueing over there, we shouldn’t let Qingshan look any less respectable,” Wang Yao replied honestly. He disliked being the center of attention, but now he represented Little Green Mountain. He had to mind his manners and not overstep.

They approached several dark red tables, where a drowsy female steward forced herself awake, tossing a ledger on the table as she stifled a yawn. “Let me know when you’ve made your choice.”

“Senior brother, would you like to read in the Sutra Library, or just hang around the southern hall?” Wang Yao deftly flipped to the last page. If he’d come alone, he might have chosen an out-of-sect errand, but today he decided to forgo that.

“Brother Yao… I want to see what’s outside,” Xiao Bao looked up at him expectantly.

A village child by nature, lively and restless, he’d long grown weary of the cramped peak of Qingshan.

Wang Yao paused before answering with a gentle smile, “Be good, senior brother. Next time, let Master take you out.”

“Oh.” Xiao Bao’s disappointment was clear, yet he obediently stood by Wang Yao’s side.

There wasn’t much left to choose from—arriving late, all the Sutra Library chores had already been taken. Wang Yao casually selected a task to sweep the main hall and handed the ledger back.

He noticed, however, that the steward had roused herself, resting her chin in one hand and twirling a string of beads, idly amusing the child.

Glancing at the ledger, she chuckled, “Which mountain are you from, being sent to sweep the southern hall and bringing your junior along?”

“There’s a misunderstanding, Steward. This is my senior brother,” Wang Yao shook his head, explaining, “We weren’t sent here as punishment.”

“Oh?” The steward looked at him in surprise, pursing her lips. “Is this your first time in the southern hall? Why didn’t you write your mountain’s name?”

At her reminder, Wang Yao realized his oversight and hurriedly added three characters at the end: Little Green Mountain.

“Ah, so you’re from Qingshan. That explains it,” the steward remarked, with no malice, just surprise. Her words, however, caught the attention of others, who craned their necks for a look.

Once they saw the name, they remembered the rumors from a few days past—how the newly arrived Elder Lin had opened the mountain to preach, immediately taking in an outstanding disciple, and later, more disciples had gone up for his guidance and seemed to benefit greatly.

It seemed this last-ranked mountain was not as hopeless as its reputation suggested.

Yet rumors are just rumors. Most outer disciples took them as mere amusement. There was even talk that after the upcoming outer sect competition, the other peaks would petition the southern hall to reclaim Qingshan for good. The news was muddled and unreliable; all they could do was watch and wait.

Still, for a mountain disciple to be tasked with sweeping halls—how was that any different from a common outer disciple? Many wore odd looks. Hadn’t they toiled and cultivated so hard to be accepted into a mountain for a better future? If nothing changed, why bother following you at all?

Qingshan—was this all there was?

Wang Yao stood frozen, suddenly chastising himself as he patted his forehead. He’d spent years doing menial work since joining the sect, so it had become second nature, but he hadn’t considered how such actions might trouble his master.

After a moment’s thought, he pressed his hand on the ledger and spoke softly, “Forgive me, I chose the wrong task.”

With the steward eyeing him in confusion, he reopened the ledger, deliberated briefly, and pointed to a different spot.

“Are you sure?” The steward’s brows furrowed slightly.

It was a task to clear out spirit beasts near the arboretum.

Though the Eastern Peak Sect was protected by great arrays and boasted over a hundred peaks, its territory extended far beyond the gates—encompassing mountains, medicinal valleys, mines, and groves. This arboretum grew ebony trees, supplying endless raw material for the sect’s sword hilts.

Lately, a band of unruly spirit monkeys had been causing havoc, destroying countless ebony trees. Help was needed to clear them out.

These were at least mid-stage Qi Refining spirit beasts, and not only that, they moved in packs and were cunning. The southern hall offered three merit points per monkey, yet few were willing. Foundation Establishment cultivators were happy to earn some spirit stones, but the monkeys were clever enough to avoid anyone with a strong aura, simply hiding away.

No self-respecting steward could camp out at the arboretum all day.

Qi Refining disciples had time but risked serious injury if caught off guard—and if the forest wardens hadn’t intervened in time before, there might have been fatalities. It just wasn’t worth it.

“You’re only at mid-stage Qi Refining. A little enthusiasm is fine, but this isn’t the place for it. And surely you won’t take the little one into danger?” the steward said with resignation.

“I understand,” Wang Yao nodded, crouching to pat Xiao Bao’s shoulder. “You go back ahead, senior brother. I’ll bring you the sweetest berries when I return, all right?”

After these days together, he trusted the boy wouldn’t let him down.

“Brother Yao…” the little one shrank back, reluctant, but seeing the earnest look on Wang Yao’s face, he nodded.

Though young, Xiao Bao knew his limits and never made unreasonable demands.

“Hey, that’s not what I meant,” the steward sighed. The child wasn’t going, but Wang Yao’s own strength wasn’t reassuring either.

“Please grant me the token, Steward,” Wang Yao said with a polite bow.

Moments later, the young man strode out of the southern hall.

“Look what you’ve all started,” the steward rolled her eyes at the onlookers.

“You’re joking. For all we know, he might really have some skill,” a few disciples said, watching Wang Yao’s retreating figure before turning away, their tone earnest.

Perhaps he was putting on a brave front, but there was a calm confidence in the young man’s demeanor that could not be feigned—a confidence born of true strength.

The steward shook her head, about to sit down again, when the ledger suddenly slid off the table.

Looking down, she saw Xiao Bao, standing on tiptoe, leap up and snatch the ledger, squatting to examine it with a serious face.

“Hey now, that Wang boy told you to be good and go back to Little Green Mountain,” the steward bent down to retrieve the ledger.

“Can’t someone young take a task?” Xiao Bao put his hands behind his back, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he looked up.

The steward considered for a moment. “There isn’t actually a rule against it.”

“Thank you, big sister!” the child replied with a sweet smile.

The steward shot him a playful glare, lips twitching in amusement. She flipped through the ledger, searching carefully, and pointed to a task. “Can’t say no to you. Just don’t get lost, all right? For one so young to be at early-stage Qi Refining, a little adventure won’t hurt.”

Xiao Bao accepted the token, his spiritual sense immersing into it, revealing a vast, abandoned medicinal mountain.

His dark eyes slowly turned to those around him.

He had never lied before, but just now, he had deceived Brother Yao. Guilt welled up inside him.

But… as he listened to these people subtly belittling his master, Xiao Bao felt anger for the first time.

Brother Yao was risking himself—he should do something too!