Chapter 72

Chapter 72: Who Needed Who

“Ling Bu Fei!”

Ying Shao Guang retreated from the maze and glared at him, furious. “Are you done yet?”

Ling Bu Fei leaned back, his smile bright and false. “Look at you. You won’t even say ‘Young Sect Master’ anymore.”

His tone stayed light, but the words landed like a hook. “So this is what Senior Brother Ying really thinks, isn’t it?”

Ying Shao Guang drew in a slow breath. He was a Golden Core Stage cultivator. How had he let himself get dragged down by this brat’s petty games?

He forced a smile back onto his face. “Young Sect Master. We happened to teleport onto the same route. That’s fate. Why don’t we break the formation together?”

Ling Bu Fei clapped once, as if sincerely impressed. “Senior Brother Ying really is Martial Uncle Yang’s beloved disciple—the best among the disciples. Impressive.”

Then his voice cooled. “You ruined plenty of my fun on the way here. And now you want me to let you off?”

He tilted his head. “Why?”

Ying Shao Guang’s smile faltered. He couldn’t even refute it. He had started it, and he knew exactly what kind of person Ling Bu Fei was.

Fine. If the Young Sect Master wanted to be childish, then they could both be childish.

Ying Shao Guang flicked his robe and sat down across from him. “All right. Since the Young Sect Master doesn’t want to break the formation, we’ll wait here.”

He lifted his chin toward the maze. “Bai Li and my junior brothers should manage if they try.”

So the two of them sat opposite each other, staring like stubborn children, neither willing to blink.

Bai Meng Jin almost laughed. Almost.

Since they wanted to waste time, she took the chance to study the Myriad Flowers Formation properly.

At its core, it was a shifting maze. It wasn’t built to kill, but its changes were subtle and layered. A Foundation Establishment cultivator could easily get trapped for hours. Even Golden Core cultivators, if they didn’t understand formations, would have trouble finding the key point to break.

Bai Meng Jin extended her divine sense and began to dismantle the formation thread by thread in her mind.

Halfway through, her brow lifted.

Interesting.

There was something buried in the formation—a hidden line, a thread so fine it almost disappeared.

They sat for a while longer.

Then everything went dark.

The lights died. The air chilled.

Ying Shao Guang sprang up instantly, fan snapping open, stance defensive.

Ling Bu Fei’s hand flashed. A talisman gleamed between his fingers.

In the next breath, the lights returned—

And the surroundings had changed.

Before, the maze had been several steps away, easy to approach or avoid. Now, flowers and grass boxed them in on all sides. They were inside, whether they wanted to be or not.

Ling Bu Fei frowned. “It’s forcing us in.”

Ying Shao Guang’s voice turned tight. “Did we waste too much time? That shouldn’t have been enough…”

Bai Meng Jin nodded slowly. “The Shang Family put up a heavy treasure to build reputation. We came in and refused to break the formation. To them, that’s wasting resources.”

She glanced around at the walls of plants. “If we keep stalling, the formation will only punish us harder.”

Ying Shao Guang’s face darkened. Earlier, they had slacked—and the formation had already increased the difficulty. If it increased again, they could be trapped here until dawn.

Missing the midnight rendezvous would be humiliating.

And later, when juniors came to Flowing Moon City, they would whisper: Don’t be like Senior Brother Ying. Don’t get trapped in a festival formation like an idiot.

Face was not something he could afford to lose.

He swallowed his pride. “Young Sect Master. If we keep dragging this out, we might not make it back tonight. Are you sure you don’t want to work with me?”

Ling Bu Fei’s tone stayed lazy. “If we can’t get back, we can’t get back. I’m a cripple who can’t cultivate. If I get trapped in a formation and can’t get out, everyone will understand, right?”

Ying Shao Guang’s teeth clenched.

He rummaged in his sleeve and yanked out the camellia, thrusting it forward. “Here. Take it back.”

Ling Bu Fei stared at the pot without moving.

After a beat of silence, Ying Shao Guang’s jaw tightened and he produced the orchids as well, shoving them out with less grace. “Satisfied now?”

Ling Bu Fei took both pots with zero hesitation, then smiled as if he’d been wronged. “Those were mine to begin with. Isn’t that apology a little stingy?”

He tilted his head. “And what did you say about A Xu earlier?”

Ying Shao Guang’s throat worked. He dug deeper, then pulled out a piece of jade—vivid red like congealed blood.

“This is Profound Yellow Stone,” he said through clenched teeth. “It’s used for nurturing swords. Young Sect Master, pass it on.”

His eyes flicked away. “Consider it my apology to Bai Li. Is that enough?”

Only then did Ling Bu Fei rise, satisfied. He pocketed the Profound Yellow Stone and smiled. “Senior Brother Ying, you’re too polite.”

His tone was unbearably gracious. “You’re the senior brother. What’s wrong with scolding him a bit? A Xu will definitely understand.”

Ying Shao Guang’s expression twitched.

Ling Bu Fei turned to Bai Meng Jin as if none of this had happened. “Come on. Let’s break the formation.”

Ying Shao Guang followed, swallowing his frustration whole. Fine. Get out first. Settle accounts later.

Ling Bu Fei studied the shifting pots, calculated quickly, then led Bai Meng Jin through twists and turns until the maze thinned into a clear flower path.

Ying Shao Guang trailed behind them, his eyes narrowing.

The Young Sect Master’s talent really wasn’t bad. Without using spiritual power, he could still find the way out with nothing but calculation. If not for that accident at birth, Ling Bu Fei would have been a rival worth fearing.

He remembered yesterday. He’d gone to listen to Martial Uncle Song’s lecture, and afterward he’d overheard that the Young Sect Master’s Severed Meridians could be cured. Shocked, he’d rushed back to his master.

His master had said flatly, “Don’t listen to nonsense. The Young Sect Master’s Severed Meridians were never about devil qi. Even if the devil qi is removed, the Severed Meridians won’t heal.”

Then, after a pause, “But that rumor is good for morale. It’s good news for the sect. There’s no need to clarify.”

Hearing that had left Ying Shao Guang with a bitterness he couldn’t name.

He didn’t like Ling Bu Fei because Ling Bu Fei sat in the Young Sect Master’s seat without effort. Every time Ying saw him idling, laughing, playing, something in him snarled: Why?

Even if Ling Bu Fei’s mother had made great contributions, there were other ways to reward her. Why hand the sect’s future to someone who couldn’t cultivate?

If Ling Bu Fei healed, maybe Ying could accept it.

But he couldn’t even compete for it. He couldn’t even lose properly.

That was what he hated.

The two in front stopped at the same time and turned back, looking at him.

“What?” Ying Shao Guang snapped.

Ling Bu Fei pointed ahead. “Senior Brother Ying, it’s your turn.”

Ying Shao Guang followed his gaze.

A flower gate stood at the end of the path, hung with delicate scrolls. Beautiful women painted on silk smiled with soft eyes, their sleeves flowing like mist.

Ying Shao Guang’s mouth twisted. “Oh, so you remember me when you need someone to fight.”

Ling Bu Fei’s eyes narrowed. “I find the path. You fight. Isn’t that fair?”

“Of course it isn’t fair.” Ying Shao Guang toyed with his fan. “Without you, I can still find a path. Without me, can you fight?”

Ling Bu Fei went quiet for a heartbeat. “Then what do you want?”

Ying Shao Guang’s smile turned sharp. “I paid with Profound Yellow Stone just to get the Young Sect Master to move. And now the Young Sect Master wants to ‘invite’ me…?”

“In your dreams,” Ling Bu Fei said instantly.

Ying Shao Guang spread his hands. “Then there’s nothing to discuss. At worst, I’ll take another route. Everyone can go their own way.”

They glared at each other, stubborn as stones.

In the middle of their deadlock, Bai Meng Jin spoke. “Then I’ll do it.”

Both men turned.

She smiled lightly. “I’m Golden Core, too. I should be fine.”

Before either of them could argue, she stepped into the one-zhang boundary in front of the gate.

The painted women’s eyes flickered.

And then they moved.

Silk sleeves unfurled like blades as the figures stepped out of the scrolls, their smiles turning cold. They attacked all at once.

Bai Meng Jin raised the Yin-Yang Umbrella, blocking, retreating, shifting—her movements deliberately messy, just clumsy enough to look strained.

Ying Shao Guang rubbed his forehead, cursed under his breath, and finally snapped his fan open and charged forward.

“Fine,” he said grimly. “Consider it my good deed for the day.”