[ Fortune Opportunity: Within a certain range, a chance will appear that suits your Dao Lineage's growth. ]
Li Qingqiu raised an eyebrow at the message in front of him. The words "Fortune Opportunity" sounded undeniably good.
Given Qingxiao Sect's current state, developing further was an uphill battle. To become a true cultivation sect, they would need massive resources.
However, opportunities often came with danger. Would his group of seven be able to handle whatever came with this "fortune"?
It sounded like a blessing, not a curse, and he doubted it would lead to disaster. But even if one of his disciples got hurt, he would blame himself endlessly. They lived deep in the mountains, far from any healer.
After thinking it over, he decided to wait. He would only activate the Fortune Opportunity after all his disciples reached the first layer of Nurturing Essence. There was no time limit on the chance, and the fortune would adapt to their circumstances whenever it was triggered.
With that decided, he stopped overthinking it and picked up a wooden sword he had carved himself, continuing his practice.
The sword technique he practiced was one Lin Xunfeng had left behind—the Nine Extremes Divine Sword. The name sounded impressive, but it wasn't actually a cultivation technique. Still, its forms were intricate and precise. Once mastered, it was formidable enough to use in battle.
Of course, that was only if one had quick reflexes. Otherwise, the moves could easily be broken, much like how old-school martial arts struggled against modern fighting techniques in his previous life.
What intrigued Li Qingqiu most was that the Nine Extremes Divine Sword could channel internal energy. He wondered if he could substitute spiritual qi instead.
With his Born Sword Maniac Fate, it took him only one session to grasp the basics. Every time he practiced, his swordsmanship improved. After just two days, his strikes were sharp and swift as wind, leaving Li Sifeng and Li Sijin gaping in admiration from a distance.
Jiang Zhaoxia emerged from the forest just in time to see this display. His expression stiffened, and he silently turned back into the trees.
Over the past two days, Li Qingqiu's comprehension of swordsmanship had completely shaken him.
He had always believed himself to be a prodigy who simply lacked opportunity. Yet Li Qingqiu had learned the technique effortlessly on his first try—and Jiang Zhaoxia was certain that his senior brother had never practiced swordsmanship before.
The only reason Jiang Zhaoxia himself could master it so quickly was because he had trained in sword arts since childhood in his clan. That meant Li Qingqiu's sword talent far surpassed his own.
Li Qingqiu didn't know what Jiang Zhaoxia was thinking, but he did notice that his junior's loyalty had increased by two points since yesterday. That was enough to put his mind at ease.
The Dao Lineage interface was quite intelligent and could answer some of his questions—for example, how loyalty worked.
The maximum loyalty value was 100, and Jiang Zhaoxia's had already reached 98—almost absolute devotion.
Half an incense stick later, Zhang Yuchun came running to find Li Qingqiu, proudly reporting his cultivation progress. Delighted, Li Qingqiu decided to prepare a feast that night to celebrate.
Zhang Yuchun was deeply moved, convinced that his senior brother valued him highly.
But when he found himself chopping meat in the kitchen, he frowned.
'Wait… why am I still the one cooking for my own celebration?'
…
Summer faded into autumn. Gentle rain fell over the Taikun Mountain Range, shrouding the peaks in mist.
It had been three months since Lin Xunfeng's departure. Now, everyone except Wu Man'er had successfully cultivated spiritual qi, leaving Li Qingqiu quite satisfied.
Near midday, in the courtyard, Li Qingqiu reclined on a long wooden chair, hands behind his head as he admired the drizzle. A small awning sheltered him from the rain, and a table beside him held fresh fruit. Life was comfortable.
Ever since he had guided his disciples into awakening qi, his authority in Qingxiao Sect had grown even greater. Everyone listened to him without question. Even Jiang Zhaoxia, who liked to argue, was obedient in practice no matter how much he grumbled.
Then, Li Sifeng dashed into the courtyard, his straw raincoat dripping wet and his tiny body covered in mud. The hem of his robe dragged along the ground as he ran.
He rushed up to Li Qingqiu and said, "Senior Brother! Someone's at the mountain gate. He says he's an old friend of Master. You told me that if anyone asked about Master, I should say I didn't know, so that's what I did. But he's asking to stay here for one night."
'An old friend of Master?'
Li Qingqiu frowned and slowly stood up. "I'll go take a look. Don't run around in the rain—you'll slip down the mountain, and that'd be a pretty stupid way to go."
He picked up the oiled-paper umbrella beside him and headed toward the courtyard gate.
Li Sifeng stuck out his tongue and made a funny face at his back. As soon as Li Qingqiu disappeared around the corner, he reached his muddy little hands toward the fruit on the table and started eating.
The mountain gate wasn't far—just a winding path of a few dozen meters. Perched halfway up the mountain, it offered a panoramic view of the surrounding peaks. Li Qingqiu passed this way every day, so the path was familiar.
From afar, he could make out a man in a raincloak standing before the gate, his back turned. Judging by his broad build, he didn't seem easy to deal with.
Though Li Qingqiu had reached the first layer of Nurturing Essence, he still stayed cautious. He had no idea how his strength compared to real martial experts of the world.
He might have dismissed Lin Xunfeng's martial arts as mediocre, but from the stories his master had told, martial artists here could truly do incredible things—running on walls, subduing beasts, feats straight out of the wuxia novels of his past life.
Perhaps Lin Xunfeng was also quite powerful—he had simply never shown it to them. After all, without real strength, how could their master have roamed the world, rescuing orphans and surviving the dangers of the jianghu?
Though Li Qingqiu hadn't left the mountain in sixteen years, he still retained memories from infancy. Back when he was a baby, the world seemed chaotic. He remembered being carried by Lin Xunfeng amid the sounds of battle—horses galloping, men shouting, steel clashing. It must have been a battlefield.
At the mountain gate, the raincoated man heard footsteps behind him and turned. He saw a young man in plain robes walking up with an oiled-paper umbrella, his features refined and composed.
A warm smile spread across the man's face.
Before Li Qingqiu could speak, the man in the rain cloak asked first, "Are you Li Qingqiu or Zhang Yuchun?"
Hearing the stranger call both his and his second junior brother's names, Li Qingqiu's vigilance eased a little. If this man knew their names, it meant he truly had a deep connection with Lin Xunfeng.
"I am Li Qingqiu, Senior. May I ask how I should address you, and what your relationship is with my master?" Li Qingqiu stopped a few paces away, clasped his hands in greeting, and maintained a respectful seven-step distance.
The man's face was rough and unshaven, his clothes those of a wandering swordsman. Aside from a bundle on his back, a long flute hung from his waist. His smile was bold and open, his presence steady and strong.
"My name's Jiang Kuatian. I've been your master's sworn brother for 16 years. I even held you in my arms when you were little!"
The moment Li Qingqiu gave his name, Jiang Kuatian's eyes softened.
Li Qingqiu actually remembered that name. Sixteen years ago, when his master had carried him through chaos and bloodshed, they had encountered Jiang Kuatian—who had escorted the two of them safely to the foot of Qingxiao Sect.
"So it's Uncle Jiang! Master often mentioned you," Li Qingqiu said warmly.
"Uncle Jiang, huh? So that old rascal actually acknowledged me as his big brother after all?"
"Of course! He often talked about you. He said there weren't many people in the jianghu he truly admired, and you were one of them. He even treated you as an example in many ways."
Li Qingqiu said it smoothly, but it was pure nonsense. Lin Xunfeng had never once mentioned Jiang Kuatian.
Jiang Kuatian threw back his head and laughed, his good humor instantly restored. The resentment he'd harbored toward Lin Xunfeng's disappearance faded away.
The two chatted casually for a while before Li Qingqiu invited him into the courtyard to talk further.
Li Sifeng spotted them approaching, hastily grabbed two fruits from the table, and ran back into his room.
Li Qingqiu pretended not to notice his little junior's mischief—it was hardly new—and led Jiang Kuatian to sit beneath the old tree, pouring him a cup of water.
Jiang Kuatian took a sip while glancing around the compound.
Qingxiao Sect was still as run-down as ever. Lin Xunfeng clearly hadn't spent any effort building it up.
Setting his bowl down, Jiang Kuatian looked directly at Li Qingqiu and said, "I already know about your master's situation. I met him in Guzhou's prefectural city a month ago. He said he was going to seek immortality and asked me to look after you all. Come with me to White Emperor Mansion. It's one of the seven great sects of Guzhou's jianghu, well-known across the land. You'll be far better off there than staying in this mountain."
White Emperor Mansion!
Li Qingqiu remembered hearing of that name before. White Emperor Mansion was one of the few martial sects with ties to the imperial court. Its leader's brother held a high position in the government.
For ordinary martial artists, joining such a powerful sect would be a tremendous opportunity.
But Li Qingqiu couldn't agree. He had already unlocked the Dao Lineage Interface. Only by remaining Sect Master could he continue to select Fates and claim Dao Lineage Inheritance Rewards.
If he went to White Emperor Mansion, he'd be nothing more than an ordinary disciple—a servant, even. There, he'd lose the freedom and potential he now had.
He put on an expression of hesitation before finally shaking his head. "Uncle Jiang, I truly appreciate your kindness. But my junior brothers and sisters and I have no desire to get involved in jianghu conflicts again. Life here on the mountain may be simple, but it's peaceful and free. We'd rather stay."
Jiang Kuatian was taken aback.
Lin Xunfeng had told him explicitly that his eldest disciple, Li Qingqiu, had always dreamed of wandering the world with a sword in hand. Lin Xunfeng had even said that, once Li Qingqiu was grown, Jiang Kuatian should let the boy pursue his own path.
He hadn't expected the boy to give such an answer.
A pang of pity welled up in Jiang Kuatian's heart.
'So this kid is giving up his dream to protect his younger siblings?'
"If you're worried about them, there's no need. White Emperor Mansion will take good care of them. You'll be free to go wherever you wish afterward," Jiang Kuatian said earnestly.
Before Li Qingqiu could respond, a faint rustling came from one of the nearby rooms. The little ones were obviously eavesdropping at the door.
He quickly changed his tone and said softly but firmly, "Uncle Jiang, I prefer to hold my fate in my own hands. As for my juniors, I'll take care of them myself. That's how I feel most at ease."
He didn't speak loudly—his voice was low, almost quiet—but he was sure the children behind the wall could hear every word.
Jiang Kuatian thought of the rivalries and politics within White Emperor Mansion and realized that Li Qingqiu's decision wasn't a bad one after all.
After a moment's thought, he removed the bundle from his back and placed it on the table. When he untied it, its contents spilled out—clothes, scrolls, throwing weapons, and some odd trinkets.
He picked up one of the manuals and handed it to Li Qingqiu. "Your master asked me to watch over you all. I can't just show up empty-handed. This manual cost me countless hardships to obtain. Practice it in secret—don't pass it to others."
But instead of looking at the manual, Li Qingqiu's gaze fell upon something else in the bundle—a small knife.
Its blade was shaped like a willow leaf, covered in rust, as though it had lain buried in the earth for a thousand years.
Yet the moment his eyes landed on it, he could feel it—spiritual energy radiating faintly from the knife.