CHAPTER 293: FOUR HUNDRED YEARS FROM NOW

Ye An's smile was still bright, like a child about to sneak her hand into the cookie jar. There was a glint of playful mischief in her eyes as if this entire encounter was more amusing than threatening. She wasn’t the least bit concerned about any danger I might pose.

Her Qi burst outward in a fluid, almost lazy wave, but there was nothing lazy about its weight. It rippled through the air like silk laced with steel.

A moment later, Song Song’s Qi exploded out to match it. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to. While she had promised not to initiate combat, it was obvious her restraint only went so far. Song Song was the kind of person who saw hesitation as weakness, and judging by her stance, she would rather strike first and argue about it later.

But I didn’t wait for them to finish charging their Core Techniques or whatever they were planning to use as an opener.

I clapped my hands, and my Qi surged around me, flickering like an invisible flame. It wasn’t showy and was more like a flickering candle next to their Qi.

I activated my Foundation Technique, channeling it with practiced ease while simultaneously pouring half of my Qi into erecting the necessary arrays.

Dark writings pulsed up beneath my feet and climbed outward in a flash. In an instant, both Song Song and Ye An were enclosed in stationary jade armor, with a dozen shimmering chains snaking out and wrapping tightly around them. The chains weren’t anchored to the earth or sky but to a flickering flame suspended in midair, my array’s core.

Electricity danced along the bindings, hissing as it stunned the two just long enough to freeze them in place. It was more than just an elemental shock; it was a suppression crafted to short-circuit reflexes and stall Qi flow.

But, of course, they were Core Formation Cultivators.

The next moment, their Qi surged like tidal waves, raw and overpowering. They flexed their power, and the jade armor cracked and exploded outward. The chains snapped apart with a sharp screech, and my carefully constructed array was obliterated in under a second, reduced to dust in the presence of absolute force.

“I will help the one who throws the second punch. Not the one who starts the fight,” I said.

Ye An glanced at me, her smug, carefree smile vanishing in an instant. Her eyes narrowed, and she let out a sharp snort.

“You’ve helped me more than you know, Liu Feng, whether you meant to or not. But don’t get in my way too often… I only have so much patience,” she warned.

“That supposed to be a threat?” I raised a questioning brow.

Ye An should have realized by now that she might have stood a chance against Song Song alone. With my intervention, even just a second of stunning, would be more than enough for Song Song to activate her Ultimate Technique and kill her.

“So? Why not just kill her now?” Song Song said, tone light. “She did threaten you.”

I stared at Ye An, and for a moment, the thought genuinely crossed my mind.

But then I remembered the time I spent with Xin Ma and the old janitor.

Would one more corpse really solve anything?

Sure, if we let her go now, we might not get another clean shot. Not without sustaining serious injuries.

Ye An’s Qi fluctuated. A dangerous glint appeared in her eyes as if she'd come to the same conclusion we had. But she resembled a cornered cat more.

While I’d said I’d side with the one who threw the second punch… Song Song and I were always on the same team.

“No,” I shook my head. “For now, I’ve decided to spare her.”

“Spare me?” Ye An gritted her teeth.

“That wasn’t meant to be an insult,” I said with a sigh.

However, it was insulting. There was no way around that.

Still, we needed every asset we could get our hands on. And despite everything, Ye An was an asset. Who knew what kind of Foundation and Core Techniques she had developed?

“Next time, pick a better battlefield,” I said. “Trying to fight Song Song at the doorstep of the Sect her clan’s ruled for millennia? Her clan members are here. Her father is here. You don’t stand a chance.”

Ye An seemed to think for a moment, then sighed and shrugged. “Whatever.”

She let her bubbling Qi fade, the pressure around her easing as her fighting intent dissolved.

Seeing that, I nodded and pulled out a notebook from my storage ring.

“Good,” I said. “Now, let’s begin writing down the names of the newcomers. Did you change your name, or should I just write it down as Ye An?”

“You can write down whatever you want,” she said.

I just wrote down her name. She threw Song Song one last glare, then turned and walked into the Sect.

Hopefully, I’d be able to keep those two from tearing each other apart.

Though, it did seem like Ye An had come here with the wrong mindset. If she thought any Core Elder would support her vendetta, she was dead wrong. Maybe if Song Song’s grandmother were still alive, Ye An could’ve cooked up something. But she wasn’t, and that door was long shut.

The rest of the group that had traveled with Ye An smiled awkwardly and looked around as they stepped forward one by one. I wrote down each of their names.

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They were mostly the same, people from various backgrounds who’d left their Sects or Clans and come here in search of safety, stability, or just a place to learn an Earth Grade Technique.

It wasn’t until the sixth person approached that something clicked.

She was a young girl, likely around seventeen years old, but already a one-star Qi Gathering Cultivator. She had a calm look on her face, unlike the others before her, who seemed unsure, nervous, or worried that I might take out my irritation on them. Her clothes were practical, and she wore a large backpack. At first glance, she didn’t even look like a cultivator.

“Hi, my name is Jiang Yeming,” she said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips, though she seemed to hold it back. She looked… pleased about something.

I nodded, and my hands moved on autopilot as I began writing her name.

But halfway through, I froze.

Jiang Yeming?

That name sounded familiar…

It only took a second before I remembered where I’d heard it.

Oh. Right.

She was the one who wrote the Autumn Edition of my book and had demanded an absurdly high price for it.

I finished writing her name and made sure to keep my expression neutral. No need for anyone to know I recognized her.

“You can go ahead,” I said, waving her forward.

Jiang Yeming nodded… but didn’t move. She just stood there, watching me.

“You’re Liu Feng, right?” she asked.

I nodded.

“I’m a big fan,” she said. Her voice was as flat as a stone skipping once and sinking.

“Fan?” I repeated, more confused than flattered.

Honestly, she looked more like a disapproving professor than a fan. That steady, unreadable gaze didn’t hold even a hint of excitement.

“We’re both scholars, in a sense,” she replied as if that explained everything.

Before I could respond, she began rummaging through her backpack. She pulled out a scroll and handed it to me.

“This is the next thing I was planning to publish. Tell me what you think of it,” she said. Her gaze carried more weight than simply handing over a scroll.

Still, I saw no harm in indulging one of my so-called fans.

I opened the scroll and looked it over. It was a complicated diagram, one I couldn’t fully grasp at first glance. I had to take a moment to decipher what it was even trying to do.

But no matter how I approached it, the scroll was several layers deeper than I expected. And I wasn’t too proud to admit when something flew over my head.

“What does this part represent?” I pointed at a central section, which resembled some array-like structure within a brain.

The creator of this had some knowledge of arrays and likely a background in mental-type techniques.

From what I could gather, it was a diagram of a very complex mental technique. Or rather, a combination of mental techniques that formed what looked like an Earth Grade one.

Its primary function was to temporarily increase mental fortitude. On its own, that wasn’t all that impressive.

However, it was revolutionary when considered in the context of a breakthrough. If I’d had this before reaching Foundation Establishment, my chances of success would’ve been almost guaranteed.

I immediately understood the value of it and glanced back at the girl who had "created" such a thing.

No matter how I looked at Jiang Yeming, she didn’t give off the vibe of an Array Conjurer. But perhaps she had the insight or maybe something else entirely. I had a more radical theory on how she came across this.

“What do you want for this?” I asked.

She stared at me for a moment. Then she smiled a genuine smile for the first time.

“You really are fair,” she said, sounding surprised.

That reaction caught me off guard. Sure, I could’ve stolen the scroll. But what would that gain me besides killing the spark of a budding genius?

“I hope this doesn’t sound rude... or weird,” she said. “But… would you take me as your disciple?”

“Disciple?” I echoed. “Didn’t think I was famous enough for someone to deliberately ask to study under me.”

I played along for now.

“Why me? By contributing this technique, you could have asked anyone to take you on as a student. A Core Formation Elder could offer you better protection. You could’ve even gone to someone like Zun Gon.”

“Well… I’m a big fan,” she said again. “Also, I wanted to study under an academic who would understand me. Your name was on all the recruitment posters, so you’re clearly important.”

“Sure,” I said with a shrug. “Just don’t come crying to me when reality kicks in, and be prepared to be disappointed."

When I said that, she didn't seem discouraged at all. There was a knowing look in her eyes.

"I doubt that," she said.

Wow. She wasn't even trying to hide where she came from.

Just as I was about to explain the harsh reality of the situation she'd be stepping into by studying under me, she cut in:

"Oh, I also have someone I'd like to keep close," she said, then turned around to the three people left behind her.

She grabbed one of them by the arm and pulled him forward.

The guy she dragged up was a bald kid, around fifteen or sixteen, with a sword in hand. But the most impressive thing about him wasn't the sword; it was his blindingly shiny bald head, gleaming like a freshly polished gemstone under the sun.

He stared at me with a calm, unnerving gaze until Jiang Yeming nudged him. Only then did he bow his head slightly.

"Hi," he greeted, then stood up straight again with that same blank expression. "Can I try cutting you?"

Jiang Yeming's face went pale, and she tried to drag him away. But he didn't budge, despite her having a higher cultivation than him.

"Why do you want to cut me down?" I asked, caught off guard by the request.

"I've never met someone who feels so... uncuttable," he said, like that explained everything.

"…Then you haven't met a lot of people," I replied.

"No. It feels like no matter where or how I slash at you, my sword wouldn't even scratch your skin. Can you tell me why?" he asked.

He felt like he couldn't cut me? How was I supposed to answer that kind of weird sword-sense? I had no idea what kind of feeling he was trying to describe.

What was that even supposed to mean?

I shook my head and smiled faintly. Trying to understand a mind like that sounded like more work than it was worth.

"Sorry, but I'd prefer not to be cut down," I said, jokingly turning him down.

"I apologize, Elder Feng!" Jiang Yeming bowed quickly, and then forced the boy's head down into a bow too.

"Just tell me your name and move on. We'll talk again later," I said, waving them along.

"My name is Tingfeng. I don't have a family name. I grew up on the streets of some no-name town I won't bother mentioning," he said.

"Alright, move along," I repeated.

This time, they actually listened.

It felt like a lot of headaches were gathering in the Sect this winter.

Perhaps this announcement wasn't such a good idea. It felt like the Sect was turning into a magnet for misfits.