After successfully sneaking into the prestigious matchmaking gathering, Liu Xiaolou let go of the utterly baffled White-Robed Swordsman and began wandering around on his own.

The Ink-Washing Hall was just a reception hall without any guest rooms, but it still covered quite a bit of ground. Beyond the main hall were gardens, a koi pond, a bamboo grove, an art hall, a study, and even a hall for Daoist demonstrations. The furnishings were simple yet elegant, understated yet luxurious, and Liu Xiaolou couldn’t help feeling envious. No wonder the Lis had been a noble clan for a thousand years.

If he could marry a young lady of the Li family and bring her back to Wulong Mountain, he’d be more than willing. But that simply wasn’t possible for him. If he recklessly tried to compete and failed, that would be the end of it. But if, by some stroke of bad luck, he was actually chosen, then once his true identity was exposed, the consequences would be unimaginable.

That was why Liu Xiaolou’s real goal was simple. Once inside, he would just wait for the Lis to choose their future son-in-law, and after the event ended, he’d collect whatever reward was given out.

After all, even the Zheng family of Luoshan had given each participant a small token of appreciation. Would the Lis of Great Wood Mountain, with their deeper heritage, really give nothing? The Zhengs had given a spirit stone. How many might the Lis hand out? The thought had Liu Xiaolou quite excited.

Of course, if they ended up giving nothing, there was nothing he could do about it. Not every effort pays off; something he understood very well.

The Great Wood Mountain matchmaking gatherings weren’t like the ones in Luoshan. They screened candidates’ backgrounds in advance, so there was no need to check those details during the event, and they didn’t place much emphasis on it anyway. When it came to family background, there really weren’t many who could surpass the Lis in the first place.

They also didn’t place much importance on looks. Liu Xiaolou had already seen several people whose faces were ordinary, or even, to put it kindly, “distinctive.” Tonight, the focus was clearly on personal cultivation; especially combat ability.

Nineteen young talents from various sects and clans were putting on a show in the Hall of Daoist Arts, either demonstrating their signature techniques or engaging in one-on-one duels. Liu Xiaolou watched with great interest, applauding and cheering from time to time. He had to admit, the disciples from these great families were formidable. Against opponents of the same age and cultivation level, the rogue cultivators from western Xian would have a hard time matching them in a head-on fight.

Liu Xiaolou himself was at the third layer of Qi Refinement. After watching a disciple from a certain sect, also at the third layer, display his skill with a magical weapon, he realized that if it were him up there, he’d probably be in trouble. Unless he used his Groundbinding Spirit-Scattering Cord. But who knew how many acupoints his opponent had opened, or how effective the cord would be against him? Too many unknowns.

There was another option: his illusion formation. But that could only trap an enemy temporarily, not actually win the fight.

So when it was his turn to step onto the stage, he had little interest in putting up a real fight. He went through the motions, and after just three to five exchanges, his Three-Mystery Sword was knocked from his hand by his opponent’s magical weapon. He conceded right away and walked off.

As a rogue cultivator from Wulong Mountain, his specialties were group brawls, sneak attacks, poisoning, and clinging to an enemy until they dropped. He also fought to seriously injure, if not kill. This sort of proper, rule-bound match was not his style at all.

Meanwhile, in the Lis’ inner residence, a few influential elders were discussing the proceedings in detail. The clan’s grand-uncle, who was in charge of observing the matches, said, “Most of them are quite good, especially Lin Sanlang of Chicheng Mountain, Guo Ai of Kuaiji Mountain, and Yun Ao of White Cloud Manor.... just as we expected.”

A middle-aged, one-armed cultivator replied, “Chicheng Mountain is one of the Ten Great Grotto-Heavens, and Kuaiji Mountain is among the Thirty-Six Grotto-Heavens. No matter what, their disciples aren’t going to be lacking.”

The grand-uncle turned to the elderly patriarch seated at the head of the table. “I actually have a good opinion of that boy, Yun Ao. His cultivation may only be at the sixth level, but he’s got real potential. It’s just that the Yun family hasn’t taught him properly. If he were to encounter the right opportunity, he could go far.”

The old patriarch looked across the table at a beautiful woman. “She’s your child, and now she’s of marrying age. Your husband passed away early. You should have your say.”

The woman replied, “Yun Ao does seem fine. But the other one from the Yun family, that Liu Xiaolou; his cultivation is far too weak. It shows the Yun family’s reputation is undeserved.”

“That one is a cousin of the Yun family, not a Yun by blood,” said the grand-uncle.

“If the Yun family sent him here to participate, then cousin or not, he’s one of their own,” the woman said, “But that’s beside the point. I paid special attention to him. When he talks with others about Daoist arts, what he discusses most is dual cultivation. And he talks about it with great enthusiasm. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with dual cultivation, but if he’s weak in proper Daoist techniques and yet obsessed with that, I fear his character isn’t good. A fine face wasted on him. I don’t want my daughter marrying into the Yun family.”

The grand-uncle chuckled. “No need to go that far… Ah, well. You’re the girl’s mother. If you really object, then so be it.”

The old patriarch coughed. “Then let’s choose between Lin Sanlang and Guo Ai.”

Liu Xiaolou had no idea he’d just ruined the White-Robed Swordsman’s chance at marriage. When the Lis announced the results, he was delighted to receive the parting gift he’d been hoping for.

Two spirit stones!

Liu Xiaolou was overjoyed, his happiness shooting straight to the top. Grinning from ear to ear, he left the Ink-Washing Hall. He hadn’t gone far before deciding to find a secluded spot. Once the White-Robed Swordsman came out, he planned to follow him quietly and see if there were any more matchmaking gatherings he could sneak into.

The White-Robed Swordsman had failed this time, but surely he’d be looking for another chance. And that would be Liu Xiaolou’s chance too.

But before he could hide, the White-Robed Swordsman came out right behind him. The moment he spotted Liu Xiaolou, he charged straight at him. Startled, Liu Xiaolou turned and bolted, the two of them disappearing from sight in seconds.

The Li family servants seeing guests off at the gate couldn’t make sense of it. The steward just shook his head with a smile. “Those two brothers from White Cloud Manor are real men of feeling. Truly amusing.”

In the past two years, Liu Xiaolou’s speed had improved quickly along with his cultivation, but his level was still limited. In the end, he couldn’t outrun the White-Robed Swordsman and was cornered in a mountain hollow five li away.

The White-Robed Swordsman demanded, “Just what is your Sanxuan Sect, and why did Great Wood Mountain invite you to this gathering?”

Panting for breath, Liu Xiaolou replied, “You should know there’s always someone better, and the sky stretches beyond the sky. Your manor isn’t the only place in the world. My Sanxuan Sect has a heritage of over a hundred years. If you’ve never heard of it, that’s your own ignorance and narrow vision. Anyway, neither of us got chosen. That makes us fellow sufferers. Even if we can’t be friends, there’s no need to make things hard for me, right?”

The White-Robed Swordsman shouted in anger, “And you’ve got the nerve to talk? I already asked the steward at Great Wood Mountain. He told me I was rejected because of you. Now tell me, what the hell is this ‘Sanxuan Sect’ of yours? What crime did you commit?”

Liu Xiaolou flared up as well. “They say it’s my fault and you just believe it? After all the time we’ve known each other—”

Before he could finish, the White-Robed Swordsman had already drawn his blade. “Known each other, my ass! It’s because I keep running into you that I’ve suffered setback after setback. Today, I’m killing you!”

Sword-light flashed, each strike faster than the last. Far too fast for the Three-Mystery Sword to block. Liu Xiaolou managed to fend off a few blows before he had no choice but to toss out his formation disk.

In an instant, it was as if both men had been frozen in place, unable to move from where they stood. Liu Xiaolou strained to pour true qi into the formation, sweat streaming down his face. The White-Robed Swordsman, meanwhile, was flushed red, staring dazedly into some unknown point ahead, his posture oddly stiff.

They stayed locked like that for nearly half an hour before Liu Xiaolou finally gave out. He snatched back the formation disk and bolted. The sudden release left the White-Robed Swordsman stunned, taking a long moment to come back to himself. Long enough for Liu Xiaolou to vanish without a trace.