Chapter 53: What to Do When the Disciple Is Too Monstrous? (Please Follow! Please Collect!)

“It’s just like this.”

At the same time, in a small grove behind the Lu family’s rear compound, Zhang Jingqing sighed helplessly.

“My disciple has extraordinary talent, especially in protective arts—he’s far too strong, to the point that among his peers in Long Hushan, no one can match him.”

“For him, cultivation is too easy—it’s a blessing, but also a curse. I fear this brat has grown arrogant, so I want to temper his sharpness, yet I can’t let the senior Daoists on the mountain intervene; even if they win, it only adds to his glory.”

“Fortunately, just now, the Wang family head suggested that the younger generation engage in a practice duel tomorrow. There are countless young geniuses present—perhaps one of them can give him a lesson.”

After hearing this, the room fell silent. Lu Xuan, head of the Lu family, stared at Zhang Jingqing with a peculiar expression, strongly suspecting the Daoist priest was deliberately showing off, hoping to boost his disciple’s fame.

He was saying this now simply to prepare everyone, to avoid any awkwardness tomorrow.

“Hahahaha—”

Just as Lu Xuan was about to speak, a hearty laugh rang out from his side—it was Zuo Ruotong.

After a moment, Zuo Ruotong stopped laughing, and under the puzzled gazes of Zhang Jingqing and Lu Xuan, he explained calmly: “Master of Heaven, Master of Heaven, I never thought one day we’d share the same headache.”

“Isn’t it strange? I, too, have a disciple who causes me nothing but trouble.”

“Oh?”

Hearing this, Zhang Jingqing became intrigued and probed cautiously: “Brother Zuo, is your disciple Master Lu Jin?”

“No, no, no. Though Jin’er’s talent is high and his strength surpasses many senior peers, he’s not nearly troublesome enough to give me this kind of headache.”

Zuo Ruotong smiled apologetically at Lu Xuan beside him, then continued.

“The disciple I mean is named Wu Xian—Wu with the ‘mouth’ radical, Xian meaning ‘envy.’ Seven years ago, I found him as a child in a famine-stricken village.”

“I merely noticed his bone structure was good, and since he was near death, I felt pity and brought him back to San Yi Gate.”

“Later, after he passed the trials I set, I naturally took him as my disciple and taught him the method of [Reversal of Life Threefold].”

Here, Zuo Ruotong’s face took on a strange expression: “At first, it was fine—he reached the first level of Reversal of Life at an average pace, merely above average among his peers.”

“But on a certain day five years ago, he suddenly seemed to awaken—his progress in life cultivation became astonishing, swiftly breaking through to the second level of [Reversal of Life].”

“Now, among all San Yi Gate peers, not a single one can stand against him—not even Jin’er, who falls easily before him.”

“Because of this, I’ve developed the same headache as you, Master of Heaven: I’m delighted to have such an outstanding disciple, yet I fear his overwhelming talent will lead him astray. I want him to understand that beyond the sky, there are higher skies—but alas…”

Zuo Ruotong didn’t continue, but his meaning was clear—he, too, had found no one capable of giving this disciple a setback, and it was driving him mad.

“So it is… what a coincidence.”

Zhang Jingqing, after hearing Zuo Ruotong’s words, was equally astonished.

As a close friend, he knew Zuo Ruotong well—though gentle and magnanimous, his standards were extremely high. For him to say this, that little Wu Xian must be truly extraordinary.

Could it be… that Zhiwei might actually lose tomorrow?

The thought flashed through Zhang Jingqing’s mind, yet he found it hard to believe.

There was no way—he was simply too monstrous.

No matter the technique—Eight Divine Spells, Thunder Art—he learned instantly, mastered perfectly, and could extrapolate creatively, truly a born cultivation prodigy.

Even more extravagantly, had he been born in another age, not this era of declining celestial Qi, he might have even achieved ascension; at the very least, he’d be a terrestrial immortal.

Such a peerless prodigy appears only once every few centuries—let alone two existing in the same age.

Of course, though he thought this, Zhang Jingqing would never say it aloud.

After all, he himself had proposed letting someone teach his disciple a lesson; if he now boasted about his disciple’s brilliance, it would be humiliating. As the current Master of Heaven of Long Hushan, he couldn’t afford such a loss of face.

“Wu Xian… so that’s the boy? I remember now—Jin’er mentioned him once when he came home, saying he had a younger brother who easily defeated him in practice. So it’s true.”

On the other side, Lu Xuan’s face lit up with sudden understanding, and he smiled at the old Master of Heaven.

“Perfect—let these two boys face off tomorrow. Let’s see whose talent and skills are superior.”

“No matter who wins or loses, it’ll be a fierce clash—and this arrogance will be resolved once and for all.”

Hearing this, Zhang Jingqing and Zuo Ruotong exchanged glances, then burst into laughter simultaneously.

“Exactly—let them fight. The winner earns fame across the land; the loser learns that heaven is vast and the sea boundless, and freedom isn’t guaranteed.”

“Let’s do it!”

…

One blink, and it was already the next morning.

A night of drunkenness was, for ordinary people, an awful experience.

But nearly everyone attending the Lu family’s birthday banquet were seasoned cultivators; with a mere trickle of Qi, the alcohol vanished, leaving them all refreshed and ready for the show ahead.

Just as in a comic’s plot, the opening matches had already begun—several challengers had stepped forward to test Lu Jin, who, as host, naturally didn’t back down and accepted them all.

Moreover, due to one person’s influence, Lu Jin’s current strength and mindset were even stronger than in his original timeline.

Thus, when facing Liu Deshui of Yanwu Hall and Feng Ping of Huo De Sect, he handled them with even greater ease, drawing surprised glances from veteran masters of various sects, who silently remarked that both the Lu family and San Yi Gate had worthy successors.

“That’s enough…”

Zuo Ruotong watched Lu Jin on stage, radiant and triumphant, exuding “the rain has stopped and I’m back”—and he recalled the scene six months ago when Lu Jin had been reduced to tears. He chuckled, then turned to the old Master of Heaven.

“Master of Heaven, I have a small favor to ask—could you please have your disciple make the first move and give Jin’er a little lesson?”

“Huh? Why?”

Zhang Jingqing frowned slightly: “Didn’t Master Lu already suffer a crushing defeat at the hands of your disciple? That lesson should be enough.”

Zuo Ruotong shook his head: “It’s different. Between sect brothers, even if one wins, Jin’er will only blame himself for not working hard enough—and his arrogance toward himself will simply shift into arrogance toward San Yi Gate’s methods.”

“Only when someone from outside San Yi Gate defeats him will he truly see the vastness of the world, rather than becoming a frog at the bottom of a well, confined to one sect’s perspective.”

“I see. Brother Zuo, your intentions are truly thoughtful.”

Zhang Jingqing sighed softly—he, too, held the same thoughts; otherwise, he’d have already dragged out that rat on Long Hushan and trained him to dig a pit for Zhang Zhiwei.

As for now… he only hoped Zuo Ruotong’s disciple was truly as extraordinary as claimed—then he could finally focus on dealing with that “rat.”

Thinking this, Zhang Jingqing glanced at the lazy figure seated beneath a distant tree, then spoke firmly: “Zhang Zhiwei!”

“Got it!”

A slightly flippant reply echoed.

Simultaneously, a tall boy in a gray Daoist robe rose from beneath the tree’s shade and strode purposefully toward Lu Jin, drawing startled glances from the younger generation of geniuses.

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(End of Chapter)