Chapter 70
Chapter 70: Looking for Trouble
On the flying boat, Bai Meng Jin leaned in and asked softly, “Do you have a grudge with Senior Brother Ying?”
Ling Bu Fei glanced at her. A faint ripple spread—her soundproof barrier settling around them. Only then did he answer, unbothered. “It isn’t really a grudge. He just looks down on me. One-sided.”
He said it as if he were commenting on the weather. When he met her gaze, he added, “It’s true that I can’t cultivate. He isn’t the only one who thinks that way. Why would I get angry?”
“But he shouldn’t look down on A Xu,” Bai Meng Jin said. “Aside from his background, A Xu isn’t inferior to anyone.”
Ling Bu Fei’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes softened by a thread. “Of course.”
Bai Meng Jin nodded. Bai Li Xu had grown up beside Ling Bu Fei and never once fallen behind in cultivation. Talent, grit, discipline—he had all of it. The only thing people liked to cling to was his origin.
“Does Bai Li Xu have a master?” she asked.
“He does,” Ling Bu Fei replied. “He’s under Martial Uncle Yuan. That makes him Martial Great-Uncle Ku Mu’s grand-disciple.”
He paused, then added, “Martial Uncle Yuan is stationed at the Ming River, so Martial Great-Uncle usually keeps an eye on him.”
Martial Uncle Yuan—Yuan Song Qiao—was Venerable Ku Mu’s eldest disciple, a cultivator already at the Divine Transformation Stage. Bai Meng Jin had met him once, long ago. He had felt like a mountain that could not be shaken.
Not far away, Ying Shao Guang was whispering with his own people.
“With the scene she made earlier, I thought this Junior Sister Bai would be trouble,” he murmured. “But looking at her now… she’s pretty ordinary.”
The junior brother beside him, Yang Fei Chuan, followed Ying’s gaze and grinned. “With that face, can you really call her ordinary?”
Ying snapped his fan shut and tapped Yang Fei Chuan’s forehead with it. “All you know is how to stare at faces.”
Yang Fei Chuan rubbed his forehead, utterly unrepentant. “If a man doesn’t look at faces, what is he supposed to look at?”
Then he lowered his voice and laughed. “Maybe the Young Sect Master likes faces too.”
Ying Shao Guang scoffed. If Ling Bu Fei cared about faces, he would have been cheated out of his primordial yang ages ago. He yanked the conversation back where he wanted it.
“Anyway,” he said, coldly amused, “Junior Sister Bai looks soft and harmless. I’m not interested in bullying women. Ignore her—for now.”
Yang Fei Chuan’s expression stayed playful, but he listened. The other junior brothers followed suit.
As the sun sank and the last smear of gold bled out of the sky, Flowing Moon City appeared ahead.
The flying boat descended onto a high platform, and the disciples poured down in bright spirits. Laughter rose and scattered like sparks.
Flowing Moon City lived in perpetual spring. It was famous for flowers—so famous that its blooms were sold far beyond its walls. Mortal nobles decorated their halls with them. Immortal clans kept them in courtyards and pavilions, hung them in corridors, tucked them into incense rooms.
Once a year, the Shang Family of Flowing Moon City hosted the flower festival, and every year it became a contest of vanity and wealth. Strange blossoms appeared. Rare breeds people had never seen—and in some cases, had never even heard of—were unveiled like treasures.
To promote new varieties, the Shang Family set up all kinds of challenges. Win, and the prize was yours.
Some of the richer branches were obscene about it. They put up prizes so lavish that even sect disciples couldn’t help but feel a flicker of envy.
There were more than a dozen of them from the Limitless Sect. They couldn’t spend the entire festival glued together. Liu Dan Qing gathered them at the platform and said, “The flying boat returns at midnight. If we get separated, we meet back here at midnight. Agreed?”
Everyone nodded.
Bai Meng Lian slipped up to Bai Meng Jin and spoke in a low voice. “Sister, you should go with the Young Sect Master. I’m not familiar with everyone yet—I’ll take this chance to make friends.”
Bai Meng Jin understood the nudge for what it was and smiled. “All right. If anything happens, use the signal talisman.”
“Don’t worry.”
Bai Meng Lian left with Liu Dan Qing and the others. Watching her go, Bai Meng Jin’s chest loosened.
In her previous life at the Cinnabar Cloud Palace, her elder sister had done well, too. Someone as clever and warmhearted as Bai Meng Lian was hard to dislike.
Bai Meng Jin walked with Ling Bu Fei through the crowded flower street, while Bai Li Xu lingered a few steps behind. Stalls lined the road—pots of rare orchids, thick clusters of camellias, blossoms shaped like bells and butterflies and flames. The air was sweet with pollen and perfume.
After they passed a handful of stalls, Bai Meng Jin noticed the shadows at their backs.
Ying Shao Guang’s group.
When they stopped, Ying’s group stopped. When they moved, the others drifted after them like a bad smell that refused to dissipate.
Ling Bu Fei turned, smiling without warmth. “Senior Brother Ying, the flower festival is huge. Do you really have to follow us everywhere?”
“Who’s following you?” Ying Shao Guang lifted his chin, brazen as ever. “The festival is huge. You didn’t rent it out. Can’t I walk this road too?”
Ling Bu Fei gave a short laugh. “Fine. Walk all you want.”
He turned away and didn’t spare Ying another glance. “Let’s go.”
Two stalls later, Ling Bu Fei stopped in front of a camellia with petals like soft, layered flame. He looked at it for a moment, then glanced at Bai Meng Jin as if he’d only just remembered something—her room at the sect was bare, too quiet, too empty.
He asked the stall owner, “How much for this one?”
The owner beamed. “It’s the flower festival. We’re giving flowers away—no selling today. If young master wants one, answer a question.”
“Oh?” Ling Bu Fei’s interest stirred. “A riddle?”
“Something like it.” The owner pointed at slips stuck to the pots. “Pick the one you want. Answer correctly, and it’s yours.”
Ling Bu Fei leaned in. The slip on the camellia held a single clue.
He had the answer on the tip of his tongue—
“Flower,” a voice said from behind, lazy and pleased. “That’s the answer, boss. So this camellia is mine, right?”
Ying Shao Guang strolled up, folding fan in hand, as if he had all the time in the world.
The owner hesitated only a heartbeat before smiling apologetically at Ling Bu Fei and handing the pot to Ying Shao Guang. “This young master answered first. I’m sorry.”
Ling Bu Fei’s mouth twitched. “Fine.”
They moved on.
At the next stall, Ling Bu Fei selected a pot of orchids. This one didn’t do riddles. It ran a pitch-pot game instead.
Normal pitch-pot was a joke to cultivators, so spiritual power was forbidden, and the arrowheads had been modified to make cheating harder.
Ling Bu Fei had just picked up an arrow when a sharp “pa” snapped through the air. An arrow skimmed in from the side and dropped neatly into the pot.
Ying Shao Guang glanced over, grinning. “Sorry, Young Sect Master. Beat you to it again.”
Ling Bu Fei set the arrow down without a word and walked away.
Bai Li Xu’s temper finally snapped taut. “Young Sect Master, do you want me to teach him a lesson? In terms of strength, I’m not worse than him.”
Ling Bu Fei shook his head. “Private brawls violate sect rules. Do you want to end up in the Discipline Hall and get whipped?”
Bai Li Xu’s jaw tightened. “Then I’ll take the whipping. It’s better than letting him disgust me.”
“He isn’t worth it,” Ling Bu Fei said evenly.
He lifted his gaze, scanning the sea of stalls and lanterns, and Bai Meng Jin caught the calculation behind his calm.
Then she caught sight of something and tugged his sleeve, pulling him along before he could refuse.
“Look,” she said. “That flower tower—”
Ahead, an ornate tower rose several zhang high, carved railings gleaming, jade-like trim catching the lanternlight. Blossoms spilled over every level like a cascade.
They squeezed closer. Inside, in a place of honor, a spirit herb rested under a protective screen. Two leaves crowned it, shaped like a child hugging its knees.
Bai Li Xu’s eyes flashed. “Ginseng Fruit!”
The legendary spirit herb that could extend lifespan—so rare most people never saw one in their entire lives.
This one had already taken shape. As medicine, it was priceless. At an auction house, 10,000 spirit stones would be an easy starting point.
And yet it sat here, displayed for the crowd like a toy.
Which branch of the Shang Family was this? They were absurdly rich.
“As expected of the Treasure Convergence Tower,” someone muttered nearby. “They actually brought out a Ginseng Fruit.”
“And not just that!” another voice said, excited. “Look at the notice—if you pass the Myriad Flowers Formation they set up, you can take it!”
Bai Meng Jin leaned in. The notice was clear:
To celebrate the flower festival, the Treasure Convergence Tower had opened the Myriad Flowers Formation. The first person to clear it would be rewarded with the Ginseng Fruit.
If the Ginseng Fruit had already been claimed, then anyone else who cleared the formation would receive a spirit herb worth no less than 1,000 spirit stones.
“What a grand move,” Bai Li Xu said, half in awe.
Even the Limitless Sect’s disciples’ tournament prizes weren’t this lavish—though the true prize of those tournaments was always the chance to be taught by famous masters. Material rewards came second.
Bai Meng Jin looked at Ling Bu Fei. “Do you want to join?”
He shrugged, unbothered. Since they were already here, playing wasn’t a loss.
Bai Li Xu pointed at the notice. “It takes ten people to open it.”
To open the Myriad Flowers Formation once required ten participants because there was real danger. Only cultivators at the Foundation Establishment Stage or above could register. Plenty wanted to try; fewer qualified.
“That’s not hard,” Bai Meng Jin said.
She turned and walked straight toward Ying Shao Guang.