Chapter Eighteen: When Paths Cross in Narrow Passages

On the winding mountain path of Taiyi Mountain’s Nanhua Peak, the trail curled like a slender dragon along the mountainside. Qin Yi and Zhang Chen carried baskets of wild vegetables on their backs. It was the dead of winter; all the other peaks of Taiyi Mountain were shrouded in drifting snow, but Nanhua Peak remained evergreen through the ages. Neither felt the weight of their loads, and as they walked, each wielded a bamboo pole, practicing sword forms with playful ease.

At sixteen years old, Zhang Chen had grown even more handsome, while Qin Yi increasingly resembled his former self—though his temperament had changed. If his previous incarnation had been a dignified gentleman, he was now the quintessential beautiful youth, with a touch of roguish charm.

“Watch this—Wild Goose Falls!” Zhang Chen leapt onto a boulder beside the path, gripping his bamboo pole in both hands and striking down at Qin Yi.

“Block!” Qin Yi, seeing Zhang Chen’s attack, raised his pole defensively. But his cultivation lagged behind Zhang Chen’s, and with a single blow, he was knocked to the ground, looking rather disheveled.

“Hahaha! Qin the Unrighteous! To think you’re the Supreme Dao Embryo—your pitiful skills do no justice to Sister Jiang Yao’s beauty. She’s so devoted to you, won’t even spare me a glance. And if she ever does, it’s only because of you.” Zhang Chen laughed heartily, then wore the look of a man watching his prized cabbage being devoured by a pig.

“Being handsome lets you do as you please. If you want the same, grow as good-looking as me!” Qin Yi scrambled up from the ground, grinning with a mischievous expression that begged for trouble.

Zhang Chen, seeing that face, grew irritated and was about to spar again when a hostile voice interrupted them.

“Well, well! Isn’t this the Supreme Dao Embryo and the prized disciple of Brother Qing Fuzi?”

Qin Yi and Zhang Chen turned toward the sound. In the woods beside the path, four figures watched them with mocking eyes. These four were not strangers: they were the young masters of the three great families from the Southern Sea, and Wang Yun Cheng, ninth prince of the Wang clan of Eastern Ridge. Wang Yun Cheng held a golden bundle in his hand.

Ignoring the foursome’s expressions, Zhang Chen strode over to help Qin Yi up and said with a smile, “Let’s hurry back to Cloud-Soaring Island. Lunch will be soon, and your master, senior brother, and Sister Jiang Yao will be waiting for us.”

Seeing that Qin Yi and Zhang Chen were preparing to leave without a word, Wang Yun Cheng grew displeased. He looked down at them with the tone of an elder. “Is this how you treat your elders?”

Wang Yun Cheng was not wrong—though all had become disciples of Taiyi Mountain at different times, seniority could be determined by entry. Moreover, Wang Yun Cheng had benefited from the Yellow Dragon Immortal, becoming a disciple of the same seniority as the sect leader.

Though Zhang Chen was usually carefree, he couldn’t stand those who flaunted seniority—especially since Wang Yun Cheng was their peer. Ready to retort, he found his words checked by Qin Yi’s hand.

Qin Yi knew that being rude and violating etiquette were entirely different matters. He played along, grinning as he addressed Wang Yun Cheng, “Qin Yi greets Uncle Wang.”

Wang Yun Cheng was pleased to see Qin Yi restrain Zhang Chen, thinking he was about to yield. But Qin Yi did honor seniority, only in a way Wang Yun Cheng found unpalatable.

Wang Yun Cheng squinted at the two, his gaze lingering on Qin Yi. Five years ago, he had expected to be the star of the Taiyi Mountain entrance ceremony, only to be overshadowed by Qin Yi and Zhang Chen, with Qin Yi becoming a disciple of Master Zi Xuan—dealing a blow to both himself and his clan. Still, he was just a sixteen-year-old boy with youthful pride. He hoped to win over the Dragonfish Fort in the future, but with Qin Yi and Zhang Chen so dismissive now, it seemed they would be equally indifferent to his clan in days to come.

“Perhaps it’s time to teach them a lesson, so they remember their place,” he thought—a notion he might regret in the future.

As Qin Yi and Zhang Chen prepared to leave, Wang Yun Cheng called out, “Wait. Since he is so lacking in manners, I’ll teach him a lesson on behalf of Brother Gu, lest anyone say the Discipline Hall is idle.”

“All this talk—aren’t you just annoyed with us? If you want to fight, just come. Why make excuses like an old woman?” Zhang Chen, now thoroughly fired up, sneered.

Seeing this, Qin Yi no longer restrained Zhang Chen. Wang Yun Cheng clearly harbored a grudge; a fight was inevitable. It mattered little—though his cultivation was lacking, dealing with these four, whom he regarded as mere children in his past life, would not be difficult.

“I’ll handle Zhang Chen myself. You three, deal with Qin Yi.” Wang Yun Cheng ordered the others. Proud as he was, he would not fight with numbers; as the ninth prince of the Wang clan, he never relied on advantage in peer confrontations.

“Understood!” The young masters of the three Southern Sea families responded together. They knew Wang Yun Cheng’s temperament and would not defy him.

“Qin the Unrighteous, be careful. Once I’ve settled him, I’ll come help you.” Zhang Chen watched as the trio encircled Qin Yi.

“Settle me? Such arrogance. Let’s see how you fare!” Wang Yun Cheng, already furious, charged at Zhang Chen, his arm wrapped in golden light—a formidable sight, whether or not it was truly effective.

Zhang Chen practiced the path of talismans, unsuited to close combat. As Wang Yun Cheng rushed forward, he retreated a few steps and, using his hand as a brush, began inscribing symbols in the air.

Qin Yi glanced at Zhang Chen’s side, then at the three approaching him. His grip on the bamboo pole tightened, ready for battle. But before he could act, He Mengwei called out.

“Qin Yi, as long as you wait here quietly, we’ll not make the first move,” He Mengwei said, glancing at Chen Wenxiang and Qian Fu.

Chen Wenxiang and Qian Fu frowned at these words, but soon relaxed. They, too, disliked bullying the few with the many, and as rivals at the Southern Sea docks, they knew something of He Mengwei’s relationship with Qin Yi. But Qin Yi’s reaction to their goodwill left them surprised. He shook his head and replied calmly, “If my friend is in trouble, I won’t stand by and do nothing.”

“Think carefully—your cultivation is two realms behind ours,” Chen Wenxiang warned, kindly. All three were in the final stage of Foundation Building: the Purification Realm. With Chen Wenxiang specializing in swordsmanship, He Mengwei in Taiyi Qingxuan Dao, and even Qian Fu focused on alchemy, any could easily defeat Qin Yi.

Qin Yi looked at the three before him, five fingers gripping the bamboo pole, his other hand behind his back. His calm voice carried an air of authority as he spoke:

“I’ve already thought it through. To save time, you three may come at me together.”