Chapter Sixty-Nine: Elder Lin's Absurdity

At the summit of the green mountain, Lin Ze sat on a bamboo chair near the cliff, idly playing with a piece of ebony, while a young man stood beside him.

“Seven days ago, I broke through to the late stage of Qi Refinement. My Ape Roar Steel Qi has also progressed, and I’ve reached a minor achievement in the technique,” the youth reported.

Lin Ze nodded in response. With the young man’s aptitude, it was impossible to break through in just two months. Clearly, it was a case of accumulated progress suddenly manifesting itself. Furthermore, due to his prolonged interaction with apes, his Ape Roar Steel Qi, inherited from Righteous Qi Mountain, had advanced rapidly—although not on par with the other two, it was still impressive among ordinary disciples.

“Go on,” Lin Ze said.

“Disciple takes his leave.”

“Wait.” Lin Ze tilted his head and motioned with the piece of wood in his hand, catching the young man’s puzzled gaze. “This is quite a good item.”

“As long as you like it, Master.” Wang Yao replied with a shy smile, only to have his neck suddenly caught by another figure.

“Brother Yao, where are my berries?” Xiao Bao puffed out his cheeks, clinging to the young man’s back. A little fox helplessly climbed onto his round head, its crimson eyes curiously surveying the unfamiliar face.

Wang Yao reached into the cloth pouch at his waist, grabbed a handful of sweet wild fruits, and laughingly placed them in Xiao Bao’s hand, then handed another to the little fox.

His gaze fell upon Yang Mu, not far away. Unfastening the cloth wrapping around a long object, he revealed a wooden Dao sword. “A gift from Elder Tree Garden. It’s not as sharp as other swords, but it’s particularly suited for Daoist arts. Here, take it.”

Yang Mu rolled his eyes and accepted the wooden sword, feigning indifference, though a flicker of joy flashed in his eyes.

Wang Yao looked up at the last figure, apologetic. “Senior Sister…”

Su Bailu smiled and waved dismissively. “No matter.”

He had never met her before; she wasn’t about to be upset over such a minor thing. All young disciples, they soon became familiar after exchanging a few words.

They gathered by the spring, listening to Wang Yao recount amusing tales from Tree Garden. The little ones were delighted, but Su Bailu quietly shook her head. She had been out on assignments herself—how could things be as carefree as he described? More often, there was danger and pressure; yet none of that came through in the young man’s stories.

Yang Mu propped his chin, a hint of doubt in his eyes. Was it his imagination, or did Wang Yao seem distracted?

“And then? Did the monkey pull out Grandpa’s beard completely?” Xiao Bao laughed until he hiccupped, his face turning red as he clutched his stomach and fell silent.

The group looked on, puzzled. “What’s wrong, stomach ache?”

The little fellow bit his lip, shaking his hand to show he was fine.

After a moment, he sighed deeply, tugged at Wang Yao’s sleeve, and urged, “Go on, tell us more!”

The others sensed the Qi Refinement mid-stage aura emanating from him and exchanged bewildered glances.

Had he broken through just by laughing and chatting?

At the cliff’s edge, Lin Ze glanced back at the group, feeling no surprise. By rights, Xiao Bao should have neared the peak of Qi Refinement long ago. The main reason he hadn’t was that he’d spent much of his time on Innate True Fire, lingering at the threshold of mastery for over half a month. After all, he was still young and lacked patience, so he returned to cultivating the Innate Art.

Lin Ze rarely interfered with the little one’s cultivation. Ordinary cultivators are bound by lifespan and must plan their training, dedicating all their time to advancing their realm. But Xiao Bao was different.

In the simulator, the little fellow took the Eastmount Breathing Art and, from nothing, reached the pinnacle of Qi Refinement in three months. Now, he could master a lower-grade technique in ten days, and reach the peak of minor achievement in the superior-grade Innate True Fire within a month. Wang Yao had spent seven or eight years on the former; Lin Ze himself had taken over thirty years in the simulator for the latter.

Xiao Bao had the freedom to indulge, to enjoy the pleasures of cultivation as he wished. He was a true genius—not a carp leaping over the dragon gate, but a dragon, merely young and stranded in shallow waters.

His breakthrough reminded Lin Ze of something. He glanced at the cloth pouch at his waist. There were only ten days left before the Outer Sect Competition—it was almost time.

...

Meanwhile, the others were still marveling as they pinched Xiao Bao’s cheeks, trying to see what kind of monster he was. Wang Yao quietly stood and walked toward his wooden hut.

Inside, he sat silently on the edge of his bed. Carefully, he took out a butterfly-shaped hairpin, obtained by trading half a shard of spirit stone with a junior named Lu. Yes, only half a shard—the fragmented spirit stones used by outer disciples, barely a tenth the size of a normal spirit stone, and his savings from years of sweeping and sorting scriptures.

In his palm, the hairpin was cold to the touch. He held it tightly, as if that could calm his restless heart.

It was the first time Senior Sister Chen had invited him…

Unbeknownst to him, three heads were poking through the window, peering in eagerly.

Yang Mu scratched his ear, holding Xiao Bao and the little fox in one arm. He whispered, “Let’s go, let’s go.”

“What’s wrong with Brother Yao?” the little one asked, puzzled, only to see Mu feign wisdom and smile mysteriously.

“Ah, spring is here. Your brother Yao is thinking about love—hoping for sweet fruit, perhaps.”

“Fruit?” Xiao Bao looked up, utterly confused. When Yang Mu left, he grabbed the little fox and hurried to the cliff.

A moment later, Lin Ze choked on his tea. He turned and glared at the little one. “You’re far too young to be thinking about spring! Who taught you that nonsense?”

...

...

Late at night, with the moon cradled by clouds, Wang Yao leaned quietly against a stubborn rock by the cliff, occasionally breaking into silly laughter.

“Ahem.” Lin Ze coughed lightly, interrupting his reverie.

He opened his mouth, unsure what to say. In truth, he was only three or four years older than Wang Yao. Even after experiencing decades or centuries in the simulator, it was all repetition—he had never dealt with anything like this.

“Master.” Wang Yao jumped, hurriedly hiding the hairpin behind his back.

“No need to hide it.” Lin Ze sighed, pointing to the bench beside him. “Sit.”

No matter what, cultivation must not be delayed. But beyond that, it wasn’t a big deal—he wasn’t some stubborn old pedant. And the boy was honest; Lin Ze didn’t want him to suffer any loss.

Under the moon, they chatted leisurely. The lifelong bachelor, Elder Lin, spoke eloquently, and Wang Yao nodded in occasional enlightenment.

One dared to speak, the other dared to listen.

“So that's how it is,” Wang Yao said, looking enviously at his master—not only was he profound in cultivation, but even matters of the heart were so clear to him.

“In any case, the Outer Sect Competition is approaching. Don’t let your studies fall behind.” The Daoist slowly rose.

“Disciple understands.”

As he prepared to leave, Lin Ze glanced at the unimpressive ornament in Wang Yao’s hand and shook his head.

He flicked a round, lustrous pill of green light toward him.

“Exchange this for some spirit stones, just in case. Don’t embarrass me.”

“This…” Wang Yao trembled all over, looking up in disbelief.

He didn’t even need to look—just the scent told him what it was. The dream of every outer disciple in Eastmount Sect, the result of decades of hard work for a single pill.

The boundary between mortal and immortal, the threshold to truly step onto the path to the heavens.

Foundation Establishment Pill!