Chapter 7

Seeing Pei Junheng's face, he suddenly wasn't very willing anymore.

Seeing Wen Qingyin silent, Chang Fu Shangjun, who had been expecting, reminded from the side: "Are you willing?"

Chang Fu Shangjun's gaze looking over was filled with kind, earnest anticipation, as if defying him would make him feel immensely guilty.

Wen Qingyin hesitated only a moment, then, under Chang Fu Shangjun's earnest gaze, met Pei Junheng's eyes.

His pupils were cold as heavenly stars, deep and flashing with a faint light.

And that bottomless vortex was staring at him, as if every inch of his skin were enveloped in that atmosphere.

He averted his gaze to avoid Pei Junheng's unignorable stare, and Wen Qingyin spoke.

"I am willing, I forgive you."

Having said that, Wen Qingyin almost bit his own tongue, and almost, under Chang Fu Shangjun's influence, blurted out the three strange words "I am willing".

After saying that, Wen Qingyin quickly turned his body, thinking the matter was over, but Chang Fu Shangjun clearly still had his own ideas.

"Since that's the case, let's shake hands and make peace."

Chang Fu Shangjun gestured for both of them to reach out their hands.

We have to reach out again?

Wen Qingyin couldn't believe it, but Chang Fu Shangjun before him seemed determined, as if he had made up his mind to have Wen Qingyin and Pei Junheng reconcile on the spot, and in passing erase the grudge between medicine cultivators and sword cultivators in one fell swoop.

Wen Qingyin still wanted to struggle a bit, but a hand was already extended before his eyes.

That hand had long, slender knuckles, prominent wrist bones, a palm about one size larger than Wen Qingyin's, and on the back of the hand faintly visible were protruding veins like mountain ranges.

It was Pei Junheng's hand.

Seeing Wen Qingyin stunned, Pei Junheng pushed his hand forward another inch, quite proactive.

Wen Qingyin glanced at Pei Junheng, seeing that this sword cultivator had little expression, and now he seemed rather like a petty, fussy person himself.

In an instant Wen Qingyin understood the crux of Pei Junheng's action; he hadn't expected a sword cultivator to have such a mindset, even putting on a show of feigned sincerity.

He would never believe any good intentions from Pei Junheng.

Thus Wen Qingyin lifted his face, reached out and grasped Pei Junheng's hand, and the two hands clasped again.

"Young Sect Master, you should remind the Sect Master to properly discipline the sect's disciples, lest they utter those embarrassing foolish remarks again."

Wen Qingyin said with a smile, his eyes flicking to Qiu Sanchi, whose face was grim not far behind Pei Junheng, his words clearly pointing at him.

As his words fell, Qiu Sanchi's expression grew even uglier, like the bottom of a pot; seeing this, Wen Qingyin's smile widened a bit.

However, the smile at the corner of Wen Qingyin's mouth suddenly halted, and he abruptly drew his gaze back to the person before him.

The hand holding his suddenly exerted more force, firmly gripping his hand in its palm, an irresistible strength.

After Wen Qingyin noticed, that hand showed no sign of relenting.

Feeling the rubbing sensation in his palm, this sudden touch made Wen Qingyin's body shudder involuntarily, his reflex pulling back the hand that was being held.

But Pei Junheng gripped too tightly, and Wen Qingyin could not retreat even half an inch.

Pei Junheng, you petty person! Sure enough, your apology wasn't sincere, just pulling little tricks to humiliate him!

Wen Qingyin, unwilling to show weakness, returned the grip with force while glaring angrily at Pei Junheng.

But as soon as he lifted his gaze, he met Pei Junheng's dark, deep eyes; the number one immortal talent of the world, even his outward appearance is so superior, even the strands of hair hanging over his forehead are devastatingly handsome.

Pei Junheng looked down on Wen Qingyin from above, his half-lowered eyes dim, his Adam's apple rolling as his thin lips uttered four words.

"There will be no next time."

After saying that, the hand that had been tightly gripping Wen Qingyin's front suddenly loosened, and Pei Junheng sat down.

Having realized this, Wen Qingyin hastily pulled back his hand, lowered his head to look, and saw that the back of his hand still bore a red mark that had not faded.

It was from Pei Junheng's earlier grip.

"Since we've shaken hands and made peace, everyone at the academy should get along harmoniously, okay~"

Chang Fu Shangjun clapped his hands satisfied, and after saying that continued his lecture.

As if nothing had happened, the class proceeded in orderly fashion despite the earlier interruption.

But now Wen Qingyin could no longer concentrate at all.

No one noticed Pei Junheng's little move earlier.

He thought of Pei Junheng's 'apology' and the demonstrative gesture during the handshake, realizing he had figured out Pei Junheng's intention.

He hadn't expected that sword cultivators nowadays also had winding, devious schemes.

Pei Junheng feigned an apology, establishing his image as the righteous Young Sect Master; originally the sword cultivators were in the wrong, but once he spoke, if Wen Qingyin refused again, it would turn into the medicine cultivators being unforgiving.

What a deceitful, scheming sword cultivator!

Feeling that he had seen through Pei Junheng's plots, Wen Qingyin gritted his teeth in anger; the red mark on the back of his hand was slowly fading, but against his snow‑white skin it remained especially noticeable.

Having only just arrived at Yingzhou Academy, his hand had already been shaken with Pei Junheng this many times.

Really, it's extremely unlucky!

Wen Qingyin grabbed his sleeve and fiercely wiped his right hand, the one that had clasped with Pei Junheng, under the desk; but when he turned his wrist and caught sight of the ferocious red mark on his palm, his motion abruptly halted.

What should have been an immaculate right palm now bore several ferocious red marks; upon closer look, they even revealed a hint of fantastical beauty, like a flower about to bloom.

But this was not just a simple red mark; it was a scar from a healed wound.

Such a scar should not have appeared on this otherwise flawless body, yet even on Wen Qingyin's body, even the pinkish scar is beautiful.

He recalled that the spot where Pei Junheng had touched with his fingers was exactly his palm.

Pei Junheng was feeling his palm scar!

His knuckles bent, Wen Qingyin turned his head, and saw Pei Junheng's earnestly listening profile.

As if sensing Wen Qingyin's gaze, Pei Junheng's thick eyelashes fluttered, as if he were about to turn his head.

Before Pei Junheng could look over, Wen Qingyin clenched his hand and turned his head away.

As if nothing had happened.

Only Wen Qingyin himself knew that the hard nail on his clenched fingertips pressed against the scar on his palm, and the emotion surging in his chest was the one that had just settled down.

Was Pei Junheng…… warning him?

Wen Qingyin lowered his eyes, concealing the expression in his gaze.

Because this sole scar on his body was a gift from Pei Junheng.

The pain of his fingertips digging into his palm brought Wen Qingyin back to his senses instantly, and he hastily relaxed his clenched fingers.

He feared pain greatly, his pain sensitivity far exceeding that of ordinary people, and after cultivating it not only did not lessen but grew worse.

Even a degree of pain that others could not perceive could make Wen Qingyin curl his fingers in pain.

He hid his hand within his wide sleeve; when he lifted his face again, no trace of his earlier expression remained.

He thought, he would not give Pei Junheng another chance to hurt him.

Chang Fu Shangjun had just finished reviewing the past Gods' War for everyone, and the turmoil caused by Qiu Sanchi happened to give him an opportunity to speak of those events.

Even though Chang Fu Shangjun had taught at Yingzhou Academy for several hundred years, his knowledge of the Gods' War was limited to hearsay.

When the Gods' War occurred, Chang Fu Shangjun was still a child whose height did not reach an adult's waist.

"No matter what sect you come from, since you have come to Yingzhou Academy to study and become fellow students, you should set aside past grudges and live in harmony." In just half a day, Chang Fu Shangjun had already emphasized more than once that fellow students should get along.

Actually, the grudges and enmity between sword cultivators and pill cultivators are well known throughout the land, so Yingzhou Academy has long been prepared for each new student intake.

Previously, new students could at least enjoy a few days of peace before disputes arose, but this year the conflict is especially severe; even before they had arrived at the academy, the two factions clashed on the way there.

Chang Fu Shangjun thought this was largely related to the disappearance of the dragon spine mountain's immortal veins, and moreover this time the young sect leader of the Myriad Noon Sword Sect and the junior sect leader of the Cloud Immortal Gate enrolled together.

Who would have thought everything would be so coincidental—truly, enemies never fail to meet. He only hoped that the disciples of the two sects could dispel their estrangement and enmity while at the academy.

Chang Fu Shangjun silently sighed in his heart.

"When you entered the Nothing Hall, did you see the stone pillars before the hall?"

As Chang Fu Shangjun's question arose, everyone recalled the hundred‑foot stone pillars they had seen before entering the Nothing Hall.

The stone pillars towered as if reaching for the heavens; along them rose exquisite sword‑carved reliefs depicting legends from across the land, while at their tops burned a college totem made of magical flame, shining with an unextinguishable light.

Seeing that the disciples present had all thought of it, Chang Fu Shangjun introduced with a smile: "For these few days you will study at the academy; soon the academy will hold the Sect Grand Competition. At that time, the totem of the victorious sect will be lit upon those stone pillars, remaining until the next Sect Grand Competition when it will be replaced."

To display one's own sect's totem upon those cloud‑piercing stone pillars—what a magnificent affair!

In that moment, the disciples before the tables could not help exchanging glances and whispering, evidently eager to try their hand at winning the Sect Grand Competition champion and having their sect's totem displayed on the stone pillars.

Sect Grand Competition?

Wen Qingyin seemed lost in thought.

"Junior Sect Leader, it will surely be our Cloud Immortal Gate that comes in first!"

From behind came Zi Shu Zhi's excited voice.

Their junior sect leader is a heaven‑defying genius, a pill‑cultivation talent that appears only once in ten thousand years; he will surely sweep aside the other sects and seize the championship in one fell swoop!

Zi Shu Zhi had just finished speaking when a weak voice from beside him said: "But I think it should be our Flourishing Talisman Assembly that comes in first."

Although the voice was soft, it was still quite clear, even startlingly clear.

Who dares be so bold as to openly challenge them to their faces?

Zi Shu Zhi turned his head in anger and saw the talisman cultivator sitting at the same table as him.

He wore an expression of clear sincerity and innocence, though upon closer look there was also a touch of foolishness.

So it was him.

With that in mind, it's no surprise—after all, this person dares to ask the junior sect leader outright about those baseless rumors.

Thinking of this, Zi Shu Zhi lifted his chin and asked him: "What is your name?"

"Ah?" the talisman cultivator blinked, then honestly replied: "Wan Wanjing."

"Wan Wanjing?" Zi Shu Zhi repeated, "What a strange name."

"No..."

"The champion should be the Cloud Immortal Gate."

Wan Wanjing had just begun to correct Zi Shu Zhi when Wen Qingyin ahead spoke up and interrupted.

Wen Qingyin, the junior sect leader, turned his face with an otherworldly, immortal‑like expression, leaving Wan Wanjing stunned.

"Because I will win the championship." Wen Qingyin lifted his chin, like a proud little peacock, "What do you think?"

"If it's the junior sect leader..." Wan Wanjing blushed and murmured softly, "It wouldn't be impossible."

"Pah!"

The talisman cultivator seated behind him, also from the Flourishing Talisman Assembly, seeing Wan Wanjing's wavering resolve, couldn't help spitting and saying, "Wan Wanjing, such a fence‑sitter!"

As Wen Qingyin nodded in satisfaction at Wan Wanjing's answer, a discordant voice suddenly rang out.

"No."

Wen Qingyin followed the sound with a sidelong glance; Pei Junheng looked at him, lightly raising one eyebrow, and on that cold, stern yet handsome face finally appeared the youthful vigor befitting his age.

"You will be defeated by my hand."