Cultivation begins with earning spirit stones

Chapter 98 Danxia Undercurrent

Zhang Lin watched her leave, lost in thought.

Chen Boyuan squeezed back through the crowd and clicked his tongue twice: "Even Senior Sister Luo is looking at you with new respect, Senior Brother Zhang, your popularity is really soaring."

Zhang Lin did not respond.

"Let's go back and rest first," he said to Yu Youwei.

Yu Youwei nodded and followed beside him. The two walked along the bluestone path towards the outer eastern district.

Chen Boyuan watched the two figures walk away, shook his head, muttered, "This person is good in every way, except he doesn't talk much," and then turned and left.

The crowd on the platform gradually dispersed.

The sun was already setting in the west, and the slanting rays of sunlight turned the bluestone ground into a golden hue.

The remaining traces of magic gleamed faintly in the setting sun, and the runes on the arena still faintly showed scorch marks from the burning of true energy.

On the high platform, Lu Yuanshan stood with his hands behind his back, watching his disciples depart into the distance.

Du Zhong walked to his side and whispered, "Peak Master, this boy is calm and composed, and he is not arrogant even after winning. He is truly rare."

Lu Yuanshan nodded slightly: "No rush, let's take another look."

He didn't say what he was looking at, but Du Zhong understood and didn't ask any more questions.

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Inner Gate, Crimson Cloud Peak.

Deep in the bamboo forest, in Zhou Mingxuan's cave dwelling.

The cave dwelling was still elegantly furnished, with a bronze incense burner on a rosewood table, from which wisps of sandalwood smoke curled.

A landscape painting hangs on the wall, depicting a vast expanse of misty waters and a profound artistic conception.

But the atmosphere in the cave today is different from usual.

Zhou Mingyuan sat in the guest seat. His injuries had been treated by a doctor. The bruises on his chest were covered with ointment, and the poisonous thorn wound on his ankle had been properly bandaged.

But his complexion looked worse than his wounds.

His face was as pale as paper, his lips were tightly pressed together, his eyes were bloodshot, and the knuckles of his fingers gripping the teacup were white.

"I lost." His voice was hoarse. "I, a member of the prestigious Zhou family, lost in front of the entire peak."

Zhou Mingxuan sat in the main seat, holding a scroll of alchemy in his hands. His face was calm and composed, as if he had not heard what he said. He simply turned a page slowly.

Zhou Mingyuan's heart tightened.

He knew his elder brother's temperament well; the calmer he was, the more unpredictable he was.

"Brother..." He was about to say something more when Zhou Mingxuan put down the alchemy scripture and looked up at him.

"How badly are you injured?"

"It's not serious." Zhou Mingyuan lowered his head, not understanding the meaning behind Zhou Mingxuan's words. "It's just a superficial injury; it will heal in a few days."

"A physical injury." Zhou Mingxuan picked up his teacup, took a sip, and said, "What about your face?"

Zhou Mingyuan's face turned pale, and he lowered his head, unable to speak.

Zhou Mingxuan put down his teacup, his voice as calm as still water: "You lost to him in Qingxuan City, losing the title of the best alchemist, and you lost to him again in the sect's minor competition, losing the title of the top ten disciples. That's twice."

He paused for a moment: "I'm not asking you why you lost, I'm asking you, what did you see?"

Zhou Mingyuan was taken aback, then gritted his teeth and said, "He has three-tiered spells, not just one: Fire Control, Wind Control, Golden Blade, Wooden Vine, and Earth Spikes—five kinds, no, at least six."

"Anything else?"

"He can identify the weaknesses of spirit puppets extremely quickly, his understanding of the strengths and weaknesses of spells far surpasses that of ordinary people, and also..."

As Zhou Mingyuan recalled every detail of the battle, his expression gradually became serious. "His transitions between offense and defense were almost seamless. I clearly used my golden sword to cleave through his wind wall, but the next instant he wrapped my ankle with wooden vines. There wasn't even the slightest pause in between. His internal energy circulation was too fast."

Zhou Mingxuan nodded, his tone unchanged: "You've finally figured something out, but why is his true energy circulating so quickly? Why are all his techniques at the third level? How much time did he spend cultivating them?"

Zhou Mingyuan was speechless.

"A rogue cultivator from a poor family, who had only practiced at the Shangqing Temple for half a year before joining the sect, has already achieved such strength in just over a month. Where did his cultivation techniques come from? Where did his cultivation resources come from? Where did his spells come from?"

Each question struck Zhou Mingyuan like a hammer blow to his heart. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

"A scion of a prestigious family, defeated twice in a row by a rogue cultivator," Zhou Mingxuan said slowly. "Do you know how the main family will view us after today's battle?"

"I thought..." Zhou Mingyuan began with difficulty, but was ruthlessly interrupted.

"You think you're from a prestigious family and that victory is assured? You think you can rest easy with my protection in the inner sect? You think he's just a poor, wandering cultivator who can't cause any trouble?"

"So, it's happened twice now." Zhou Mingxuan's voice turned cold. "Twice, you've been defeated by the same person."

Silence fell over the cave.

Zhou Mingyuan lowered his head, veins throbbing on his forehead, and after a long while, he managed to squeeze out a few words: "Brother, I am not reconciled."

Zhou Mingxuan didn't reply. He picked up his teacup, took a slow sip, and stared at the landscape painting, seemingly deep in thought.

After a moment, he finally spoke: "Afu."

The gray-robed Taoist boy entered in response and stood by the door with his hands at his sides: "What are your orders, young master?"

How many times did Lu Yuanshan meet with him?

"I haven't seen him alone since Xiao Bi," Afu said.

Zhou Mingxuan's eyes flickered slightly. He placed the teacup on the table, got up, and walked to the window, gazing at the bamboo forest outside.

The bamboo shoots have already sprouted, the new bamboo is lush and green, and the spring water gurgles deep in the bamboo forest.

"He got three perfect scores, and Lu Yuanshan won't be indifferent. The peak master of Cuiping Peak has been trying to cultivate his own people all these years. Among the eighteen outer peaks, his position is the most stable, but his voice in the inner sect is the weakest."

"The conflict between the master-disciple lineage and the aristocratic family lineage may not be obvious in the outer sect, but it has long been a turbulent undercurrent in the inner sect." He turned to look at Zhou Mingyuan, "You think Zhang Lin is just a rogue cultivator? You're wrong. Lu Yuanshan values ​​him because he wants to use him as a pawn, a pawn to break the monopoly of the aristocratic family lineage."

"Brother, you mean..." Zhou Mingyuan looked up, "that Lu Yuanshan will take him as his disciple?"

"Most likely." Zhou Mingxuan sat back in the main seat, tapping his fingers lightly twice on the table. "Once he formally becomes Lu Yuanshan's disciple, he will be part of the same lineage as master and disciple."

"At that time, if our Zhou family wants to touch him again, it will be like touching Lu Yuanshan's personal disciple, and it will be a disgrace to the master and disciple lineage."

Zhou Mingyuan's expression darkened further: "Then what do we do?"

Zhou Mingxuan glanced at him: "So, we can't give him any more time."

He turned to Afu: "How many months until the big competition?"

"Four months left," Afu said.

"Four months." Zhou Mingxuan tapped the table twice. "Send a message back to Qingxuan City and inform the clan leader."

"Tell the elders that Zhang Lin has already shown his talent within the sect, and that they should make plans accordingly."

Afu responded and turned to leave the cave.

Zhou Mingyuan watched Afu's retreating figure, wanting to say something but holding back.

"What do you want to say?" Zhou Mingxuan asked.

"Brother, that disciple of Zhang Lin..." Zhou Mingyuan lowered his voice, "...Yu Youwei."

Zhou Mingxuan's eyebrows twitched slightly.

"She possesses the Yin physique of the Xuan Yin type, with exceptional talent. Our Danxia Sect lacks superior Yin-attribute cultivation techniques. If she remains in the sect, she will be buried sooner or later. If we could..."

"No rush," Zhou Mingxuan interrupted him. "Deal with Zhang Lin first. As for Yu Youwei, we'll see how things go."

"The relationship between this woman and Zhang Lin may not be as simple as it seems on the surface."

He paused, his voice turning colder: "You suffered a humiliating defeat today. If Zhang Lin really becomes Lu Yuanshan's disciple, then he will be part of the same lineage as his master."

"By then, your grievances with him will no longer be a matter for you alone."

Zhou Mingyuan lowered his head, not daring to say anything more.