Chapter 737: Long-Absent Jian Academy

The black cat’s cold emerald eyes regarded him, limbs hanging, face expressionless.

Pei Ye smiled, buried his face in its belly and rubbed it, then held it close and bowed forward: “Greetings, Taizhu.”

“Hard work. Please sit.”

Li Jian turned his head; ink still stained his sleeve, as if he had just been writing furiously.

Though he said “please sit,” the room held no chair for the old man himself; Pei Ye looked around and finally sat on an empty shelf, while Li Jian sat casually atop a stack of ancient texts.

“Today, we discuss three matters,” the old man said, as always blunt, yet he did not proceed immediately—he stared at the boy for a moment, his gaze probing some distant future, then withdrew along the same path.

He lowered his eyes and said: “First, the Yong Ji matter; second, the Western Court’s divine authority matter; third, the Lingquan matter. Do you have anything else to discuss?”

Pei Ye blinked slightly: “...None. Just these three.”

Li Jian nodded: “First matter: regarding Yong Ji, I wish for you to kill him and leave his body in Shenyang.”

Pei Ye looked at him.

“A trap has already been laid for him; all bureaus are waiting for this ‘Shen City leader’ to be captured—but as you see, the Yan Prince values his life dearly,” Li Jian said. “Of course, his protection isn’t the issue—the more the Yan Prince resists, the more we must have his life. Currently, there are two obstacles: first, we cannot locate him within Shenyang; second, we lack proof he is the Shen City leader.”

“Does this even need proof?”

“Until he falls into our hands, no evidence carries weight,” Li Jian said. “But Prince JinYang sparing Chan Jiang’s life was a wise move. He is now in the Immortal Platform’s custody—he is Shen City’s leader, Yan Prince’s pillar general; his accusation is sufficiently valid.”

Pei Ye thought: “Wouldn’t he refuse to accuse?”

“If he were willing to trade Yong Ji’s life for his own, he would have done so inside the Shen Realm,” Li Jian said. “But that doesn’t mean he won’t accuse.”

Pei Ye didn’t understand: “What do you mean?”

“He is our bargaining chip. His willingness matters little.”

“...Oh.” Pei Ye understood: no matter whether Chan Jiang wished to or not, the Immortal Platform would produce a confession with full fingerprints and handwriting—after all, the man was in their hands; how could you know if he spoke or not?

But operations couldn’t be this crude; the Shen City case was still a secret matter. All bureaus knew only to eradicate Shen City, unaware of what lay beyond it. If this case became publicly known as “Yan Prince’s Assassination of the Crown Prince,” it would shake the entire Tang political environment.

Li Xizhou’s advice to wait and see the Yan Prince’s next move was likely also Li Jian’s current thought. Since they already held one testimony, the Yan Prince was now the one under pressure.

Pei Ye nodded slowly: “So this matter will see progress in a few days?”

“It seems so.”

“Good. Then regarding divine authority—I’ve obtained the [Bai Shui].”

“During your journey away from the capital, did you use the divine name [Huo Zheng Yan Bo]?”

“I did.”

“How was it?”

“...Stronger than I could have imagined.”

“Tell me.”

Pei Ye thought a moment: “After arriving in the capital, I mastered the Star Guardian’s control over fire. In Star Guardian form, my manipulation and perception of fire multiplied five to sixfold. The first time I used it, I controlled every flame aboard a twenty-zhang ship, and I could condense and compress them, refining the fire to an extreme purity. I used this to crush Qiu Tianyu at the peak of Tushen—though at that time he had no Xuan energy.”

“Without Star Guardian form, even now I could never control fire to that degree,” Pei Ye opened his palm, a jade-red flame rising from it. “Controlling fire—without the Black Chi’s aid—before entering the Xuan Gate, I could barely extend it beyond one zhang from my body, unless attached to an object and thrown. Fine control was even harder: with a single flame, I could manipulate it at most twice—that was my limit.”

Li Jian listened in silence, then nodded.

“So normally, my fire is merely a difficult tactic in Mai Realm combat; once Xuan Gate is involved, it poses no threat. Star Guardian form, however, is a true technique beyond the Mai Realm—clearly, many Xuan Gate cultivators must take it seriously. But its flaw is limited fuel,” Pei Ye said. “Only the Xuan energy stored in me and the Black Chi, plus any fire within my immediate surroundings. Once outside the capital, facing true Xuan masters—especially those at Tushen or above—it becomes extremely thin; fire can usually deliver only one burst before being drowned by their endless Xuan energy.”

“Then what of [Huo Zheng Yan Bo]?”

Pei Ye fell silent: “[Huo Zheng Yan Bo]...is itself a sea of fire.”

“I feel it’s not even Xuan energy from heaven and earth fueling the blaze—it’s heaven and earth directly commanding this space to generate fire, covering a hundred zhang... frankly, this is already the maximum range a Ye Que could influence,” Pei Ye looked at him. “I believe the prestige and impact I created within this range... rivals that of some Ye Que.”

“You could state it more objectively—I believe it exceeds most Ye Que.”

“...Correct.”

Li Jian nodded: “Your understanding is right. A ‘divine name’ isn’t some ability that suddenly grants you control over Xuan energy. It is the lingering echo of heaven and earth’s response to these names. In ‘Zhao Master’ state, when you summon fire, you are not igniting surrounding Xuan energy—you are commanding heaven and earth to obey your decree.”

Li Jian continued: “The Immortal Platform

currently has nine ‘Zhao Masters.’ All of them use these echoes from heaven and earth. Stealing divine authority is precisely the unique ability of Zhao Masters. Yet among them, you are the only one who truly possesses this divine authority simultaneously.”

Pei Ye blinked: “So my divine name is stronger?”

“It appears weaker.”

“...”

“The strength of a divine name depends on the name itself, not the Zhao Master. [Huo Zheng Yan Bo] surpassing Ye Que is already usable,” Li Jian said. “Your special advantage in wielding divine authority through a divine name is threefold: first, you permanently hold this authority, unlike other Zhao Masters who are eventually rejected by heaven and earth after years; second, I suspect that over time, the divine power of [Huo Zheng Yan Bo] will gradually shift onto you; third, you are still unfamiliar with manipulating divine authority, and the divine name allows you to rapidly master it.”

Pei Ye began to understand: “So I’m not stealing your things?”

“Divine names and divine authority should be one. How can there be theft? Rather, I have long held the Immortal Platform and control the power to grant divine names—many have accused me of usurping heaven’s throne.”

Pei Ye spoke sternly: “All nonsense.”

Li Jian gave him a cool glance: “I’ve already acknowledged you now hold the heart of the Western Court. No amount of flattery will earn you more.”

“Oh.”

In truth, Pei Ye didn’t really want more—the divine name [Huo Zheng Yan Bo] had already surprised him enough. Until now, he had only possessed means to assassinate Ye Que, never to confront them directly.

[Huo Zheng Yan Bo] might not match every Ye Que—especially those on the Crane List, whose strengths were comprehensive and techniques endless—while he had only a blazing sea of fire. But this was undeniably a power sufficient to directly confront, even suppress, the Xuan Gate.

“Regarding [Bai Shui], I intend the same treatment,” Li Jian said. “But the Immortal Platform does not grant titles hastily. Wait until summer—I will bestow upon you the divine name of Bai Shui.”

Pei Ye nodded. In truth, he had yet to fully absorb many things he’d gained and had no rush to acquire more.

“Then there is the matter of [Shi Shen],” Li Jian’s expression grew serious. “You haven’t lit the divine hall yet.”

“Nor have I lit the [Bai Shui] hall.”

Li Jian nodded: “You may light the [Bai Shui] hall first. After simultaneously mastering the Can and Zui half-divine authorities, you should be able to obtain the [Shi Shen] divine authority—but proceed cautiously with this step.”

Pei Ye listened.

“You are the only one who holds the Western Court and uses the Immortal Platform to reach heaven. If you truly light the [Shi Shen] hall, you may face the true authority of heaven. You saw it that day when you connected the Western Court to heaven—you know the weight of ‘True Heaven.’”

Pei Ye nodded. He remembered clearly: that day, gazing through the Can Star Hall,

the sky peeled back a corner, and his entire soul involuntarily drew closer—a sensation still deeply etched in his heart.

“So we proceed cautiously. Return and light the Zui Star hall first. We’ll discuss further in a few days.”

“Alright.” Pei Ye thought, “Then what of [Lingquan]? Can I enter now?”

He was blunt, eyes fixed on the old man before him.

Li Jian smiled slightly, extended his hand: “Thank you for your trust. At midnight three days from now, come to the meeting. Your first [Lingquan] gathering.”

Pei Ye smiled, reached out and clasped the thick, powerful hand.

After leaving, Pei Ye looked up at the western tower—the top floor’s lanterns still burned; Zhu Gaoyang had not come down.

He silently mourned the man, but felt no urge to wait or rescue. He took the clothes provided by the Immortal Platform, drew his sword, and stepped out.

He placed the kitten on his shoulder, feeling its familiar, small weight. At the alley entrance in the crisp night after rain, he raised both hands high and stretched out with full relief.

Gradually, he had grown accustomed to—and even fond of—this city. The vast crowds brought warmth. Pei Ye stepped on still-damp bricks, bought two steaming buns from a roadside stall, and the moment he swallowed them, hot, fragrant warmth spread through him—his body, long accustomed to cold food and drink, trembled with delight.

He didn’t ride a horse. Carrying his sword, he ate as he walked, bought more, and wandered back toward the Jian Academy, sharing bites of every food—good or bad—with the kitten.

In the distance, he saw the brightly lit Xichi, the luxurious banquet halls—every city’s bright, lively places glowed more vividly at night. Pei Ye remembered how, upon first entering Bowen City, he had longed for such heights. Now, he felt nothing. Walking along the dim streets, the breeze brushing his face was refreshingly soothing.

When the moon reached its zenith, Pei Ye returned to the long-absent Jian Academy. The courtyard was silent; faint sword sounds drifted from the training ground—even without the Yulin Trials, diligent sword disciples never lacked.

Pei Ye didn’t feel like training today. He pushed open Tang San’s courtyard gate—both rooms were dark.

Though they had once been rivals, after so long apart, he truly missed his two fellow disciples. He remembered Yan Feiqing feeding him dates all the way last year, and Yang Zhenbing sparring and answering his questions. Though their personalities were odd, they were decent companions. He should treat them with more warmth and courtesy when they met again.

Pei Ye then recalled how many friends he hadn’t seen in ages. He looked forward to tomorrow’s lessons, head down, walking straight toward his room—until he reached the steps and suddenly froze, nearly jumping.

Yan Feiqing lay on the reclining chair outside his door, a book covering his face, breathing so faintly he seemed dead. Only then did two pale eyes emerge from beneath the book, quietly watching him.

“

...Are you fucking playing ghost?”

“Why are you back?”

“It’s my courtyard—why can’t I come back? What are you doing at my door?”

“That’s not your door.”

“...What do you mean it’s not my door?”

“You’re no longer in this courtyard,” Yan Feiqing said calmly.

“...What do you mean I’m not in it?”

“There are three of us in this courtyard. If two agree, one can be expelled. On the twenty-ninth day of the second month of Renwu year, we made that decision,” Yan Feiqing turned his head and spoke loudly. “Yang Zhenbing—isn’t that right?”

The dark room beside them rustled. Pei Ye’s eyes widened: “Wait, why expel me?”

“During your absence, I realized I get along well with Yang Zhenbing. The courtyard is quiet. All the previous disturbances were your doing,” Yan Feiqing said.

At that moment, the window opened, revealing Yang Zhenbing’s upper body in his night robe.

Yan Feiqing repeated: “Yang Zhenbing—isn’t that right?”

“Yang Brother would never agree to you!” Pei Ye snapped. “I have a good relationship with Yang Brother!”

“I promise I will never again use his sword training courtyard,” Yan Feiqing glanced at his reclining chair.

“No wonder you’re blocking my door!”

“That’s not your door.”

Yang Zhenbing said: “No.”

“...”

“...”

For the first time, Pei Ye saw astonishment on Yan Feiqing’s face.

“I only said—if you were willing to give me your courtyard for sword practice, I’d consider it,” Yang Zhenbing said seriously. “I don’t like living with you at all. You’re arrogant and self-important, ignore me when I speak, and force me to bring you meals and clean the courtyard every day.”

Having finished speaking, he looked at Pei Ye’s shoulder: “Pei brother, if you let me help you raise the kitten, we can kick out Yang Feiqing together.”

Pei Ye frowned, thinking: “Yang Zhen, I never thought you were such a two-faced man…”

Yang Zhen slipped out the window and walked toward Pei Ye: “Mimi…”

Pei Ye stepped back instinctively.

Yang Feiqing said nothing, lowered his head, and reached for his sword beneath the chair.