Chapter 102: Venerable Wenqing

Just when the immortal thought his master would surely slap the other person into the horizon—

Ye Yuan merely frowned and turned to look at his young disciple. “You don’t like it?”

His expression clearly said, If you don’t, I’ll go find you a few more. After thinking for a moment, he added, “The spiritual vein is useless to them.”

“Uh, I know that.” Yun Jiao sighed. “Those who’ve already ascended don’t need mortal spiritual energy. But the spiritual vein is still a part of their body. You can’t just say ‘remove it’ and it’s gone. It’s like… an appendix. Everyone knows it’s not useful, but no one goes around cutting it out just for fun, right?”

Bai Yu: “…”

Ye Yuan: “…”

The immortal: “…”

Although the unknown cultivator’s plea on his behalf touched him, that metaphor sounded… odd, somehow?

“So, Patriarch, please return it to him,” Yun Jiao continued.

Ye Yuan was silent for a moment. She wasn’t wrong. Suddenly, he found himself not wanting to plant that appendix—no, that spiritual vein—into her. The more he thought about transferring a piece of someone else’s body to his little disciple, the more irritable he became. What if she caught some sort of stupidity from it? So he nodded, took out the white spiritual vein, and handed it over.

“Take it!”

The immortal lifted his head, looking at the familiar strand of spiritual light, then at his master, disbelief written all over his face.

He… he was giving it back just like that?

He glanced curiously at Yun Jiao—how had she managed to persuade his master so easily? After so many years, since when had his master become so… reasonable? The more he thought about it, the more amazed he became. His gaze toward Yun Jiao grew fervent—someone who could sway his master! What kind of divine woman was she?

“This fellow cultivator, may I ask who you—”

“What?” Before he could finish, Ye Yuan’s expression turned frosty, his gaze sharp as a blade. This fool still dares try to trick my disciple?

“N-nothing!” The immortal immediately ducked his head like a frightened quail. Yep, his master was still terrifying.

Ye Yuan simply tossed the spiritual vein at him. The strand of white light shot straight into the immortal’s body and vanished.

The immortal exhaled in relief. Thank the heavens—he was whole again. A proper, complete male immortal once more.

Then another thought struck him. He looked up tentatively. “Master, these years… why did you—”

“You still have something to say?” Ye Yuan cut him off coldly, expression screaming Why aren’t you gone yet?

“Understood!” The immortal immediately shut his mouth. “Then this disciple will take his leave and pay respects another day.” He turned to go, preparing to soar away.

“Wait.” Ye Yuan’s voice stopped him.

The immortal’s eyes lit up instantly. “Does Master have other instructions?”

“What you destroyed, you fix yourself.” Ye Yuan swept a glance at the wrecked temple, full of craters from lightning strikes.

The immortal froze, turning to look at the ravaged ruins. His face twitched guiltily. “Y-yes, right away…” He began forming hand seals to restore the buildings.

Ye Yuan added, “No spells allowed.”

“…”

Master, are you deliberately tormenting me?

Ye Yuan’s figure flashed and vanished back into the high tower, the door slamming shut with a bang.

Master…

(_)

The immortal looked utterly miserable. He didn’t dare disobey, so he floated back down, staring at the ruins with despair, and quietly began moving bricks.

The hundred and eighth time he regretted his choices—why had he been so stupid, striking first without asking questions?

Sure, smiting a building was satisfying for a moment, but rebuilding it… was spiritual torment.

Yun Jiao: “…”

Bai Yu: “…”

Are all immortals this pitiful?

As Bai Yu watched, it finally sank in. He glanced at the wretched immortal moving rubble and couldn’t help stepping forward. “Er… exalted immortal?”

The immortal blinked, suddenly remembering the two spectators. He glanced nervously at the sealed tower, then in a flash appeared before them. Gone was his earlier menace—he was now all smiles, beaming like spring sunshine. “You two must’ve been frightened earlier. My apologies! A misunderstanding, truly! Since you’re disciples of Qingyang, we’re all on the same side—please don’t take offense.”

The two exchanged a look. His change in attitude was so fast it was dizzying. The old man replied politely, “Fellow Daoist, you’re too kind.”

But the immortal’s gaze had already shifted to Yun Jiao, his eyes lighting up.

“This young lady, the Patriarch seems to value you highly. Are you his new disciple?”

“Uh… no,” Yun Jiao shook her head. “I’m a disciple of Qingyang’s… one hundred and… many generations later.” Honestly, she’d lost count.

“Oh.” He nodded, unconcerned, and introduced himself. “I am surnamed Wen, given name Kui, Dao title Chuqing. May I know this Daoist friend’s name?”

“Wen Chuqing!” Before Yun Jiao could answer, the old man exclaimed in shock, eyes wide. “Could you be… the Taiching Sect’s Patriarch—Venerable Wenqing?!”

“Hahahaha…” Wen Chuqing chuckled, stroking his white beard and nodding. “Didn’t expect anyone in the mortal realm still remembers my honorific title.”

The old man looked even more stunned. If not for having the Patriarch appear daily before him, he’d have probably fainted already. Any other cultivator would.

“Is he famous?” Yun Jiao blinked, genuinely clueless about cultivation history.

“Of course! Venerable Wenqing! One of the three great Heavenly Venerates of the Mystic Path—equal to Venerable Xuande and Venerable Yuanfa. He was said to be one of the Patriarch’s three most powerful disciples, a master of the highest mystic arts!” The old man grew increasingly excited, his eyes shining with awe. “Back then, he founded the Taiching Sect—the greatest cultivation sect of its time, with tens of thousands of disciples!”

“Oh…” Yun Jiao looked impressed. “So powerful? Then how come I’ve never heard of Taiching Sect?”

“Ah, that’s ancient history.” Wen Chuqing smiled kindly, eyes narrowing in nostalgia. “Come to think of it, I haven’t paid attention to the mortal realm in thousands of years. I wonder how Taiching Sect fares these days?”

The old man, still beaming, answered without thinking, “Oh, wiped out!”

“…” Huh?

“Wait—you didn’t know, Venerable? It’s been gone for thousands of years.”

Wen Chuqing: “…”

Yun Jiao: “…”

Yep. That sound you hear? A knife twisting.

——————

Night deepened, silent as still water.

After moving bricks all day, the once-imposing Heavenly Venerable looked utterly exhausted, his pristine white robes now smeared with dirt, grass, and brick dust.

Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself and knelt respectfully before the offering table atop the tower. “Disciple Wenqing knows his wrongs and comes to atone. I beg Master to appear and punish me.”

The altar remained motionless, only three tendrils of incense smoke curling upward. Wenqing didn’t dare move. When the incense finally burned out, a figure drifted out of the ancestral tablet, floating above it. That flawless, godlike face frowned slightly before speaking in a low voice:

“What is your crime?”

Wenqing froze, cold sweat instantly breaking out. That’s just it—I don’t know!

“M-Master, you personally took my spiritual vein and left your aura for me to follow. Surely that means I committed a fault deserving of it!” He hunched smaller and smaller, looking pitiful.

“So…” Ye Yuan’s brow furrowed deeper, expression clearly saying, Why did I ever take such a stupid disciple?

“You still don’t know what you did wrong?”

Wenqing sank lower, sweat dripping down like rain. “I… I beg Master for guidance.”

“Hmph!” Ye Yuan snorted coldly and waved his hand. A black object shot out, stopping in front of Wenqing.

The immortal’s eyes widened in alarm. “That’s… a ghost artifact!”

“Now you understand?” Ye Yuan said coldly.

Wenqing’s face turned ashen, his body collapsing into a deep bow. “Master, forgive me!”

(End of Chapter)