Chapter 29: Steward Hall

Beneath the mist of Nishan, in a secluded square pavilion outside the inner court.

Qin Rong, Lang Hetong, and Ji Jingyao, the three chief stewards of the Book of Heaven Academy, sat before their desks, wide sleeves hanging beside their wooden chairs, listening intently to the disciple’s report with quiet authority.

After a long while, the report ended, and the three exchanged glances.

“There are no ancient relics around Shengjing—how could demonic seeds appear? It makes no sense. And how could those mindless ghosts possibly mix with cultivators?”

Qin Rong’s brow furrowed deeply, his eyes filled with disbelief.

Lang Hetong also held back his words: “With a Rongdao cultivator involved, not a single person was injured—this is also strange.”

Ji Jingyao looked at them, then said after a pause: “Three of the eight attacked escaped unharmed, two only suffered minor wounds. Let’s bring them in and question them.”

“I was just about to suggest that,” Qin Rong nodded.

Lu Qingqiu, Lou Siyi, and Sun Zhi entered the battle for an instant before Ji You rescued them.

Bai Ru Long and Qian Yunxiao had their throats slashed by demonic seeds, but were unharmed, and under the watchful eyes of many outer court disciples, they were escorted to the Steward Hall on the mountain.

They could not explain why the demonic seeds appeared, but as for why no one was injured, they had much to say.

“Ji You cultivates both martial and spiritual arts, and his swordplay is astonishing…”

“He did this, then this, then this…”

“After the second sword was intercepted, the demonic seed fell on the defensive; the third sword was utterly unexpected…”

“At that moment, Brother Ban and Brother Ji were on the brink of death—this third sword broke the opponent’s lightning technique…”

Bai Ru Long acted out the movements on the spot, mimicking them clumsily.

Lu Qingqiu described the scene in tandem with Bai Ru Long’s gestures, painting a complete picture that left the three stewards silent.

“The immortal sects now dominate the world, ensuring peace for a thousand years—even Dao-discussion gatherings like the Snow-Boiling Society and the Immortal Stroll Society observe restraint. Before this incident, even I thought martial arts were beneath notice.”

Qin Rong rolled up his sleeve: “Until now, this outer court disciple, who cultivates both martial and spiritual arts, demonstrated through a supreme control of the battlefield the very reason martial arts exist.”

Lang Hetong opened his mouth: “Martial arts.”

“What?”

“It was once called martial arts.”

Ji Jingyao, not listening to their exchange, frowned slightly and said: “Ji You—I feel I’ve heard that name before.”

Qin Rong, hearing this, also felt a flicker of familiarity: “I think I’ve heard it too.”

Lang Hetong burst into laughter: “Isn’t this Ji You the one who outpaced the Chu family and was the first to sense the Book of Heaven?”

“That peasant scholar?!”

“Exactly.”

Qin Rong and Ji Jingyao exchanged glances, their eyes filled with surprise.

A cultivator of both martial and spiritual arts who sensed the Book of Heaven and used his sword to overcome a higher realm to save his peers—this was utterly unthinkable.

Lang Hetong stroked his long beard: “Though this battle is now clear, the identity of the Rongdao cultivator, the motive behind the attack, and why demonic seeds appeared in Shengjing—these are the real questions.”

Qin Rong nodded: “Correct. The search teams haven’t reported back yet—let’s first question the three disciples who fought.”

“Qi Rui is currently injured and cannot rise—don’t summon him.”

Ji Jingyao spoke.

The Ji family of Qingzhou is a prominent clan; Qi Rui is Ji Jingyao’s own nephew.

Qin Rong added: “Ban Yangshu is also seriously injured—question him later.”

He had no blood ties to Ban Yangshu, but had old ties with the Ban family, so he spoke up on his behalf.

Cultivation in Qingyun Realm has always been a tradition of senior disciples guiding juniors.

But the “junior” in this “senior-junior” relationship doesn’t mean “later arrivals”—it means “descendants.” Many misunderstand this.

“Then… summon the outer court disciple.”

“Yes. He fought the demonic seeds and tested the Rongdao cultivator’s lightning technique—he must have noticed details we missed.”

Bai Ru Long and Qian Yunxiao immediately panicked—Ji You had saved their lives: “Stewards, Ji You’s spiritual sense is drained—he’s asleep and unfit for questioning.”

Lu Qingqiu and the other two women stepped forward: “Stewards, perhaps we should wait until he wakes.”

“A Book of Heaven disciple was attacked in Shengjing—the entire cultivation world has heard. If we don’t investigate swiftly, the sect’s prestige will suffer.”

Qin Rong lifted his teacup: “Besides, spiritual sense depletion isn’t an injury. A few brief questions won’t harm him.”

Ji Jingyao nodded, then turned to a nearby disciple: “Go to the outer court and bring Ji You for questioning.”

“Yes, Steward!”

The Steward Hall, independent of both inner and outer courts, exists to uphold the Sacred Sect’s prestige and acts with boldness.

In their eyes, Ji You is merely an outer court disciple, low in status, with no noble lineage—they naturally gave him no special consideration.

Even if Ji You later entered the inner court, unless he became one of the Five Palaces’ direct disciples, he could never influence the Steward Hall.

Besides, the inner court has only five palaces; the direct disciples of Zizai and Jixiang are already chosen, and all other inner court disciples are vying for that spot—Ji You has no chance.

They act always from the standpoint of the Sacred Sect’s prestige, following proper procedure. Though cold, their actions draw no criticism.

Seeing this, Lu Qingqiu, Bai Ru Long, and others felt displeased, yet knew they had no voice.

Perhaps this is the humility of humble origins—even if one cultivates immortality, without noble lineage, injustice still comes.

But just then, the disciple sent to summon Ji You rushed back—alone.

“Three Steward Masters, we couldn’t bring him.”

Qin Rong noticed the disciple was filthy, as if he’d rolled in mud, and frowned: “Did he refuse?”

The disciple hesitated, then said: “He’s said to be sleeping in the pavilion at Bishui Lake’s Elegant Garden. I didn’t enter.”

“Did someone stop you?”

“It was You, the head of Jixiang Palace, who sat outside Ji You’s pavilion. When I came to summon him, she told me to leave.”

Qin Rong fell silent for a moment: “Then… let him rest well. We’ll question him when he wakes.”

Ji Jingyao also fell silent for a while: “I was just about to suggest that.”

Lu Qingqiu and Bai Ru Long were stunned—they couldn’t understand why Ji You, merely drained of spiritual sense, had drawn the attention of an inner court palace head.

Before the five could ponder further, they were dismissed.

Inside the Steward Hall, Qin Rong pondered long: “Could Ji You be a disciple favored by Head You?”

Lang Hetong shook his head: “Don’t forget—Jixiang Palace already has direct disciples.”

…

Ji You slept undisturbed for two days, and when he opened his eyes again, it was noon.

He woke feeling refreshed and clear-headed, and was puzzled.

Earlier, to observe the Book of Heaven, he had strained his spiritual sense to its limit—each morning he awoke with a hangover-like daze. This time was different.

As Ji You wondered, an old man entered from the outer room carrying a bowl of water.

The old man wore a white long robe, but it hung loosely, more like nightwear than daily attire.

Seeing Ji You awake, the old man approached, took his wrist, and lightly felt his pulse.

“So you’re a physician…”

“?”

Ji You blinked, then quickly pulled his wrist away.

He had no spiritual origin—his spiritual spring was shattered.

He didn’t know if physicians in this world could detect anything, but caution was wise.

The old man paused, then chuckled, stroking his beard: “Is your mind still clear?”

“Fine. Nothing feels wrong.”

“Then you’re fine.”

Ji You nodded: “How is the academy now? Did they catch the three from yesterday?”

The old man stroked his beard, squinting at him: “I’m just a physician—how would I know such things?”

“Of course.”

“Here, drink.”

The old man stood, picked up the bowl from the table, then glanced at the letter Ji You had written to Old Qiu but hadn’t sealed: “Did you write this?”

Ji You drank, tasting a hint of sweetness: “Yes. To let my family know I’m safe.”

Kuangcheng became Top Graduate and wants me to become Abbot—I’ve inquired: the Abbot doesn’t take direct disciples, but he’s lived over three hundred years—I might not outlive him…

The old man read that line and clicked his tongue.

(End of Chapter)