Zhou Fuxue took a shallow breath to keep himself from being provoked to death by Ming Zhu. He averted his gaze, letting it fall upon the pile of clutter on the floor, and said coldly, "Master asked me to inform you that you need not take the stage for the matches tomorrow. Just mind your manners and receive the honored guests."
Ming Zhu stood up and tilted his head. "Honored guests?"
"The Long Night Villa of Shishen State, and Shen Hongchuan of Jianglou State will arrive tomorrow morning. You are required to greet them at the mountain gate during the hour of the Chen. Do not be late."
Ming Zhu blinked. "Oh..."
He was just about to ask who exactly was coming from Long Night Villa when Zhou Fuxue’s patience seemingly ran dry. He pulled a bundle of azure fabric from his sleeve, set it on the table, and turned to leave without another word.
Ming Zhu chased after him, gripping the doorframe as he called out, "Thirteen?"
Zhou Fuxue ignored him, quickly vanishing into the thick mist.
Ming Zhu was left bewildered, but it wasn't right to chase him further. He did a haphazard job of tidying up before collapsing onto his bed.
He had grown accustomed to a comfortable life under Zhou Fuxue’s care; once Zhou Fuxue left, he had regressed into a savage existence overnight, complaining incessantly every day. During the first month, he hadn't been able to sleep at all, eventually pestering Shen Dian to prescribe a mountain of medicine and incense just to barely manage some rest.
Ming Zhu closed his eyes to compose himself, but sleep eluded him. Frowning, he sat up, picked up the small incense burner from the floor, and tossed in a handful of incense to light it.
Wisps of smoke curled upward, filling the entire room.
Even with such a heavy dosage, he tossed and turned for an hour before finally drifting into a light slumber.
Early the next morning, the morning bell echoed across the mountain peaks. Ming Zhu climbed out of bed in a daze, only to realize he had somehow rolled onto the floor during the night. The small, carved incense burner, now cold and extinguished, was wedged right against his waist. He lifted his inner robe to look; the skin was already bruised a deep purple.
There were still fifteen minutes until the hour of the Chen. He wasn't in a hurry. With bleary eyes, he washed his face and changed his clothes, then sat at the cluttered table to nap for a while longer before finally waking up fully.
Usually, he rarely bound his hair. Disliking restraint, he would simply tie it back loosely with a ribbon and be done with it. But today was the Sect Grand Competition. Not only would all the disciples from the West and North Mountains be present, but several powerful cultivators with personal ties to Guining Zhenren would also attend. If the Eldest Disciple of Rizhao appeared so unkempt, he would surely become the laughingstock of the world.
Ming Zhu raised his hands to gather half of his hair. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the fabric ribbon Zhou Fuxue had left behind the previous night. He unfurled the ribbon and gave it a shake. Seeing the exquisite Rizhao mountain patterns embroidered upon it, he decided to simply tie it directly onto his hair crown.
The azure ribbon fluttered down to his waist. He checked himself in the mirror, turning left and right to ensure the crown wasn't crooked. Satisfied, he flicked the surface of the Water-Ripple Mirror and said with a beaming smile, "What a true beauty."
The mirror swayed slightly from his flick. Ming Zhu had indulged in enough narcissism and was about to look away when he caught a glimpse of his reflection. In the clear surface of the mirror, his dark grey eyes seemed to distort slightly. Then, like a ripple on water, they shifted—turning into golden, vertical pupils. They looked exactly like...
Ming Zhu froze in place. He reached out to touch his eye. As he blinked gently, a streak of blood flowed from that golden vertical pupil, slowly trickling down his face.
These were... snake pupils!
Ming Zhu bolted upright, staring at the Water-Ripple Mirror in sheer terror. His heart hammered like a drum as he stumbled backward, the image of those cold, forest-chilled eyes still burned into his vision.
"My... my eyes..." He raised a trembling hand to wipe his face, only to find no trace of blood.
Ming Zhu panted heavily, his legs turning to jelly. He slid down against the wall, shivering as the sensation of palpitations and suffocation enveloped him once more. He clutched his chest, his vision flickering between black and white, feeling deathly ill.
Kua Yu sensed his emotional turmoil and instantly manifested in human form, rushing over. "Zhu-zi?"
Ming Zhu’s pupils shook violently. It took him a long moment to recognize Kua Yu. He gripped Kua Yu’s hand tightly and rasped, "My eyes..."
Kua Yu looked closely and asked, "What’s wrong with your eyes?"
Ming Zhu froze.
Kua Yu pulled a mirror over from nearby and held it up to him, asking in confusion, "Look for yourself. There’s nothing there."
Ming Zhu was initially extremely resistant, instinctively trying to burrow into the corner. Hearing Kua Yu’s words, he hesitated for a moment before turning his head to glance at the mirror.
They were still dark grey pupils. It was as if the golden snake pupils from a moment ago had never existed; even the blood on his face had vanished.
Ming Zhu remained shaken. He gasped for air for a long time before his weak legs could support him as he stood up.
Kua Yu looked at him with concern. "Are you really alright?"
Ming Zhu’s wide sleeves dropped down, concealing his still-trembling hands. His face was pale as he shook his head. "I'm fine. I have to go receive the guests. We'll talk later."
The hour of the Chen had just passed. Ming Zhu hurried out of Buzhiya. Passing disciples greeted him cheerfully, but the Eldest Disciple—who usually mingled easily with everyone—was acting out of character. His face was deathly pale, and he didn't even look at them as he swept past like a gust of wind.
Shang Yanfeng and Yi Fuju happened to spot him from a distance. They called out "Eldest Brother," but Ming Zhu only looked up at them briefly before hurrying away.
Shang Yanfeng asked, "What happened to him?"
Yi Fuju: *I do not know.*
Ming Zhu soon reached the Rizhao mountain gate. On the Linglong Tower, the wind chimes were clattering in unison. He took a deep breath, and his racing heart gradually steadied.
Just then, Kua Yu suddenly spoke in his consciousness: "Someone is coming."
Ming Zhu looked up. At the mountain gate, two figures slowly emerged from the lingering thick mist. One of them was indeed Shen Hongchuan, whom he hadn't seen in a long time.
Ming Zhu’s legs were still a bit weak. He forced himself to take a few steps forward and managed a faint smile. "Hongchuan."
Perhaps because his complexion was too ghastly, the smile on Shen Hongchuan’s face immediately vanished. He stepped forward quickly and said, "Senior Brother, I’ve arrived."
Ming Zhu smiled. "I thought you were just speaking casually back then. I didn't expect you to actually come. How was Master willing to let you in?"
Shen Hongchuan reached out to lightly check Ming Zhu’s forehead, saying nonchalantly, "I am here representing the Shen family, not as the seventh disciple of Rizhao. Naturally, he cannot stop me."
Ming Zhu nodded. "Then let’s go. I’ll take you to see Master."
As the two were about to walk side-by-side, the other person—whom Ming Zhu had been ignoring—could no longer bear it. He spoke coldly, "Is this the etiquette of your Rizhao Mountain? When an honored guest arrives, you don't even know how to offer a greeting. It seems the Rizhao Mountain of Ximu State cannot even compare to a minor sect. This has truly been an eye-opening experience."
Ming Zhu turned back in confusion and saw a man dressed in black. His expression was cold, and his dark hair was pulled high into a white jade crown, with a silver pendant hanging from his topknot that swayed gently with his movements.
Ming Zhu asked, "Who are you?"
A distorted, ferocious smile was practically forced onto the man’s handsome face. He ground out each word: "Ming. Zhu! You. Are. Doing. This. On. Purpose!"
Ming Zhu still looked completely blank.
Shen Hongchuan whispered in his ear, "This is Ye Weiyang, the Lord of Long Night Villa. He’s been cursing you the whole way here."
Ming Zhu: "..."
Ming Zhu gave the trembling-with-rage Ye Weiyang a strange look, nodded slightly, and said, "Welcome, honored guest."
Having said that, he actually grabbed Shen Hongchuan and walked away.
Ye Weiyang: "..."
Shen Hongchuan suppressed a laugh as he followed. "Senior Brother, rumor has it that the Lord of Long Night Villa is extremely petty and vengeful. By snubbing him like this, I fear he won't let the matter rest."
Ming Zhu said dismissively, "Ignore him. How did you get here? How long are you staying at Rizhao? Will you be staying with me these few days?"
Shen Hongchuan replied, "No, Rizhao should have guest rooms arranged. I won't trouble you, Senior Brother."
Ming Zhu paused and turned to look at him strangely. He said gloomily, "Are you looking down on my room because it's too messy?"
"..." Shen Hongchuan lied without blushing or losing his breath. "Not at all. Whatever gave you that idea, Senior Brother?"
Ming Zhu stared at him darkly. Shen Hongchuan quickly changed the subject. "Are you competing in the Grand Competition this time? I heard the top three will receive many spirit pills and artifacts. Is there anything you have your eye on?"
Ming Zhu nudged him with his elbow, displeased. "Don't change the subject."
Shen Hongchuan was inwardly lamenting his luck when he caught sight of Yan Xueyu and Lu Qingkong walking together, seemingly heading toward the martial arts arena.
Shen Hongchuan called out hastily, "Third Senior Brother, Little Nine."
Yan Xueyu paused. "Hongchuan?"
Lu Qingkong was even more surprised. "You actually came? Master didn't throw you out?"
Shen Hongchuan stepped forward, patted Lu Qingkong’s head, and stuffed a pile of rare treasures into his arms, laughing. "Shut your mouth—are you all heading to the arena?"
Lu Qingkong’s eyes lit up at the sight of those rare items. He quickly tucked them into his storage ring, his previous expression of disdain vanishing instantly. He nodded. "Yes, the Sect Grand Competition is about to start. Master should have arrived by now..."
Just as he finished speaking, the mountain bell tolled several more times.
Yan Xueyu said, "Alright, we can catch up tonight. Don't be late, or Master will punish us again."
The wooden stages for the Sect Grand Competition were built upon the massive martial arts arena outside Wujiu Hall’s waterfall. The arena, which could hold several hundred people without feeling crowded, was divided into three sections. The ground was paved with precious Black Spirit Stones and reinforced with intricate formations, allowing the competitors to release their spiritual power freely without affecting the spectators.
Surrounding the arena were tiers of stone platforms, already packed with disciples who had come to watch. The atmosphere was bustling and lively.
Ming Zhu and the others climbed the stairs and looked around. They saw that Guining Zhenren, Gui He, and Master Dao had already arrived. They were sitting in a small pavilion, with jars of wine and small cups placed on the low tables before them.
Beside them, Ye Weiyang, dressed in black, had somehow arrived ahead of them. He was chatting and laughing with Guining Zhenren, looking elegant and noble—a far cry from his ferocious demeanor earlier.
Seats had already been reserved for Yan Xueyu and Lu Qingkong outside the pavilion, so they greeted the elders and sat down. Since Ming Zhu didn't have to compete, he entered the pavilion with Shen Hongchuan.
Shen Hongchuan walked in and cupped his fists, neither humble nor arrogant. "Shen Hongchuan of Jianglou State greets Guining Zhenren."
Guining Zhenren gave him a cold glance, but ultimately did not slight the face of Jianglou State. He said flatly, "Take a seat."
Shen Hongchuan didn't stand on ceremony and sat in an empty spot.
Ming Zhu tried his best to appear mature and steady. After performing his salutations, he went to stand at Guining Zhenren’s left side.
Disciples were already ascending the three high stages of the arena to find opponents. Outside, the clamor reached the heavens.
Ming Zhu remained composed, standing with an elegant posture. From time to time, he poured wine for Guining Zhenren, his eyes never once straying toward Ye Weiyang, who was watching him coldly from the side.
Ye Weiyang seemed to be a man of short temper. After enduring it for a while, he couldn't help but speak up sarcastically, "Everyone says that Ming Zhu, the Eldest Disciple of Rizhao, is peerlessly beautiful. Seeing you today, you truly do have a face beyond compare. I simply wonder what the level of Cultivator Ming Zhu’s cultivation might be."
Ming Zhu looked straight ahead and said calmly, "I am well aware that I am good-looking; there is no need for our honored guest to praise me in such a roundabout way. Furthermore, praising my looks in front of my elders—don't you think such behavior is a bit improper, honored guest?"
Ye Weiyang: "..."
*Who's praising you?! I'm fucking mocking you!*
***
