Qing Feng leaned against the bamboo window, toying with a wine gourd, and chuckled softly as he watched the figure trapped in the formation. A cultivation base of nine levels of the Return to Void stage was like a child learning to wield a sword in her hands. If it were a seventh-tier cultivator specializing in combat, the outcome would have been decided long ago. He flicked the bottom of the gourd, startling three bamboo leaves that plunged into the formation's core.
Luo Qing parried the crimson flame sword energy with her sword, her cloud-patterned sleeve already singed. The sword intent, condensed from mist, was about to counterattack when the bluestone slab beneath her feet suddenly turned into quicksand.
She spun and tapped the ground, only to crash into a sky full of lightning. The wooden sword suspended in the formation's core had, at some unknown point, wrapped itself in purple lightning and struck towards her brow.
“What a perfect cycle of the Five Elements!” Luo Qing finally saw the true nature of this deadly trap, stabilizing herself only after shattering three bluestones with her jade feet.
Metal generates water, water generates wood, wood generates fire, fire generates earth, and earth, in turn, generates metal. The sword energy, in its circulation, formed a self-contained world.
She backhanded, severing the strands of black hair swept up by the gale, the ice silkworm sash on her fair wrist already half-severed by the sword energy.
When the fifth wave of sword energy tore open the storage pouch at her waist, Luo Qing finally heard the crisp sound of her jade flute falling to the ground. Frost instantly spread along the patterns of the bluestone slab, and the morning dew within a ten-zhang radius condensed into ice crystals, suspended in mid-air.
She bit her tongue and sprayed essence blood onto the flute's holes, and the 'Guanghan Melody,' passed down for a thousand years in Yixian Palace, finally resounded through the clouds.
The moment the sword's edge collided with the sky-blue spiritual light, a brilliant light wheel exploded in the void.
The ice-blue radiance circulating around Luo Qing suddenly surged, and countless profound ice prisms condensed and fell from her skirt, refracting a seven-colored rainbow in the mist.
She held the jade flute and parted her vermilion lips. The clear sound waves instantly transformed into a materialized tidal wave of spiritual energy, and the entire space vibrated and resonated with it.
Within nine turns of the melody, illusions of grand palaces and jade towers materialized, each musical scale imbued with the power of laws.
The Great Mysterious Dog was knocked to the ground by the aftershock, its front paws clawing at a crack in the formation as it shouted, “This woman is fierce! Should we call for backup?”
“Go quickly to Xiao Yao Peak and find Immortal Yun!” Qing Feng threw out a stealth talisman. “Remember to avoid the patrolling Disciples, and just say that Elder Luo of Yixian Palace is going crazy here.”
Mist surged by the Cold Pond, and Yun Qingrao, in clothes whiter than snow, stepped over the waves. Noticing the lingering ice crystal scratches on Qing Feng's neck, she gently waved her wide sleeve to erase the marks: “Aunt Luo excels at star-gazing and divination. Perhaps she glimpsed a deviation in the fate trajectory.”
“So Immortal Maiden has been avoiding me recently, afraid that an elder might notice something amiss?” Qing Feng deliberately took half a step closer, their robes almost overlapping in the reflection of the pond.
Yun Qingrao's ear tips flushed a faint red as she retreated: “It will be fine once the karmic threads naturally dissipate.” Before her words finished, several silver fish suddenly leaped out of the water, splashing ripples between the two of them.
Cultivators most dread their Dao Heart being tainted.
Yun Qingrao gently stroked the zither strings with her fair hands, the frost between her brows melting slightly: “The matter of the tomb is merely a stone thrown into the heart's lake. Once the ripples dissipate, the Dao Heart will naturally become clear.”
“Since we address each other as fellow Daoists, why not forge a good connection?” Qing Feng leaned against the bluestone, smiling slyly, “I heard that when Disciples of Yixian Palace travel the mortal world, they often use zither melodies to enlighten the common people?”
Yun Qingrao's fingertips paused on the seven strings: “Get to the point.”
“Help me send a letter.” Qing Feng conjured a scroll as if by magic. “If these stories can be sung in the marketplace, you'll get three-tenths of the merit.”
He caressed the Zhengtian Dao Stone in his embrace, sighing inwardly. How could ordinary cultivators know that the power of belief could form the cornerstone of the dream sea?
Three years ago, during his secluded cultivation, the storybooks copied by the Disciples of Beast Taming Sect actually helped him break through his limitations. Now, the characteristic of Yixian Palace's music cultivators traveling throughout the Nine Provinces was an excellent medium for dissemination.
“You? Writing books?” Yun Qingrao's gaze swept over the gilded cover of 'Strange Tales of the Eastern Journey,' and suddenly sword energy surged: “The part where the White Peony's soul scattered, did you write that?”
Qing Feng narrowly dodged the ice prism: “Only tragedies can be truly unforgettable. Look how likable the little Dragon Princess is in 'Eight Immortals Causing Havoc in the Sea.'”
“'Nezha Pulling Dragon Sinews,' 'Legend of the Dragon-Slaying Platform'—” Yun Qingrao reported each book title, and the surrounding temperature dropped by three degrees. “If the Dragon race of the Four Seas knew these dragon-slaying stories came from your hand…”
“Artistic license!” The young man chuckled awkwardly, backing away. “The Dragon race is a symbol of auspiciousness in heaven and earth; playing the villain in stories just makes them more imposing!”
The guqin suddenly let out a dragon's roar, startling the birds perched on the mountain. As Qing Feng fled with his head in his hands, he vaguely heard a cold snort from the clouds: “Let's see how many methods of dragon-slaying you can concoct.”
In the cultivation world under neon lights, Qing Feng, with a spiritual bamboo pen in his mouth, leaned against a cloud-patterned couch: “When it comes to literary creation, don't we all just copy templates in our line of work? Just like the standard cold and beautiful CEO for urban soldier kings, which protagonist in a cultivation novel hasn't cleared a Heavenly Court dungeon?”
Yun Qingrao toyed with a celadon jade teacup, spiritual light flowing between her fingers: “You can write 'Dragon race' however you like, but for 'Journey to the West,' not to mention you wrote Golden Cicada as a crybaby, just the part about Guanyin designing the Golden Fillet Spell is enough for the Buddhist monks to carry their demon-subduing staffs and demolish your cave dwelling.”
“Can compassionate monks be so brutal?”
Qing Feng slammed the table, making the jade slips on it rattle. “In the book, Bodhisattvas take bribes, and Buddhas protect their cronies. Which of these isn't their daily operation? The abbot of Xuanming Temple even forced believers to donate merit money to expand the meditation rooms the other day!”
Yun Qingrao pulled out a scroll of 'Diamond Sutra' from her Qiankun bag and threw it over: “Do you think they're vegetarians? Eight hundred years ago, the Pavilion Master of Heavenly Sound Pavilion drew a caricature satirizing the Arhats, and he's still serving as a paperweight at the bottom of Leifeng Pagoda!
Not to mention, you wrote Xuanzang as a pedantic monk. In reality, he would have been completely blacklisted by the Buddhist sect's public relations department.”
“How about learning from Old Man Jin and playing with homophones? Tang Sanzang changed to Tang San Zang (meaning 'bury')?” Qing Feng gestured in the air. “Get a dragon tattooed over his shoulder, shout 'Mighty Heavenly Dragon' when he sees a demon, and sing 'World Honored Ksitigarbha' when he encounters a devil. I guarantee the Buddhist sect won't find fault.”
“Are you trying to challenge the three thousand Arhats to a debate?” Yun Qingrao's eyes narrowed slightly. “I heard the Chief of Prajna Hall recently refined eighteen Arhat AI puppets and is looking for a place to test them.”
Qing Feng pulled out his Beast Taming Sect token and shook it: “Who dares touch the writings of a direct Disciple of my Qingyun Peak? Besides, the pen name used is 'Rogue Cultivator of Nanshan Continent,' so they can only trace the IP to the East Sea Demon Market.”
Saying that, he formed a hand seal to summon a virtual keyboard. “This book must become popular. Once readers comprehend the seventy-two transformations, we can harvest the power of faith.”
Before he finished speaking, Yun Qingrao's flowing cloud sleeve had already swept away his jade slips: “You haven't even sorted out the karmic threads of the Luo family siblings, yet you have time for cultural creation?”
Her fingertip tapped on the latest chapter: “What's with this last line of code comment? 'Golden Fillet Spell algorithm references Buddhist Heart Sutra v3.0.' Are you afraid the programmer monks won't find loopholes?”
Sword light suddenly illuminated the cave dwelling, and Qing Feng wielded his 본명Flying Sword : “I'll go into secluded cultivation after I finish this part! Remember to serialize it on the dark web, and connect the tipping channel to the Big Dipper Array for payment.” Before his words finished, he had already transformed into a streak of light and escaped into the clouds.
Just before leaving, Qing Feng suddenly stopped and said, “That Disciple named Luo.”
“It's merely the same surname,” Yun Qingrao lightly flicked her sleeve, her jade hairpin gleaming in the morning light.
Qing Feng's sword-like brows raised slightly: “That's excellent.”
“After all, she is from Yixian Palace,” Yun Qingrao caught the subtle change in his emotions, and frost condensed between her brows, “However…”
