Chapter Forty: The Youngest Disciple Pays a Visit

Falling Cloud City.

After Wang Ran left the auction house, Beiming Lie also took his leave to return to the sect, eager beyond measure to seclude himself and cultivate the “Righteous Virtue Sutra.” This technique was formidable—at least in Beiming Lie’s eyes—a powerful tool with which he dreamed of one day kicking Ye Cang aside, pummeling Wang Ran with his fists, and reigning supreme over the sect.

Wang Ran, for his part, only wore a faint, knowing smile, secretly looking forward to the day when Beiming Lie would come seeking revenge after his cultivation, brimming with excitement.

Yet Wang Ran did not hurry back to the sect. Instead, he lingered in Falling Cloud City for a while, intent on taking in the sights. After all, opportunities to leave the sect were rare, and this city was among the most renowned in Yun Province, famous far and wide for its prosperity.

Merchants lined the streets, most of them cultivators selling their treasures—spiritual artifacts and mystical techniques alike. Wang Ran glanced over them with little interest; none of these wares caught his discerning eye.

He wandered along the streets, marveling at the ancient splendor, a sense of novelty lighting his face. With a chuckle, he mused, “Not bad at all—reminds me a bit of Sanlitun.”

Falling Cloud City sprawled vast and wide, its busiest district centered on the street where Falling Cloud Pavilion stood—a commercial hub in Wang Ran’s eyes. He strolled into a teahouse at random, swaggering to a seat by the wall and ordering a cup of clear tea as he leaned back.

Though this teahouse was run by cultivators, its staff were of modest abilities—not even having reached the Qi Condensation stage, merely capable of sensing the ambient spiritual energy. In Wang Ran’s estimation, they were scarcely different from ordinary folk. After all, true cultivators would never stoop to waiting tables, for they cultivated not only power, but pride.

Sipping his tea, Wang Ran listened idly to the conversations around him, soon pausing in surprise.

At the next table, several burly men were talking animatedly.

“Have you heard? A great figure arrived in Falling Cloud City today!”

“Who hasn’t? The whole city’s buzzing with it!”

“You mean the one who spent a fortune at the Falling Cloud Pavilion auction, buying a Golden Spirit Fruit just to quench his thirst—Chen Wangran, right?”

“That’s him! Truly a man of means—he spends lavishly and is now an honored guest of the city. They say he’s reached the Nascent Soul stage!”

“Nascent Soul? My word, that’s the pinnacle of cultivation in all Yun Province!”

“Indeed. And rumor has it he’s already accepted an invitation from the Purple Heaven Palace, making him an elder there as well!”

“Purple Heaven Palace is already a top-tier powerhouse. With a Nascent Soul elder holding the fort, who in Yun Province would dare provoke them now?”

“But Chen Wangran’s most dazzling feat was his performance at the auction. With a single move—just one—he shattered a grade-six spiritual artifact, the Falling Cloud Armor!”

“To break the Falling Cloud Armor in one blow—his strength must be terrifying!”

“Too bad I wasn’t there. To witness such a hero in the flesh—my life would have been complete!”

The voices of the crowd rippled outward, their faces alight with excitement. Simply sitting together discussing such a legendary figure seemed to be a source of pride for them.

At the next table, Wang Ran was momentarily stunned. He hadn’t expected news to travel so swiftly in the world of cultivation—barely a few hours, and the whole city was abuzz!

It seemed his legend had already begun to spread.

Moved by the thought, Wang Ran put on a mask of loneliness and melancholy, as if weary of such fleeting fame. Yet if one looked closely, his eyes danced with delight.

He set aside his tea, rose, and slipped from the teahouse, vanishing into the sea of people.

It was easy to imagine that soon, all of Yun Province, with Falling Cloud City at its center, would be abuzz with tales of Chen Wangran. But such matters were no longer Wang Ran’s concern. He played his role with the ease of a passing wind—never looking back, letting his legends drift away like smoke.

Leaving the city, Wang Ran pressed on without pause, heading straight for the Only Me Sect. He cultivated as he traveled, rushing onward.

After a day and a night, the mountains of the sect came into view, marking his return to the sect’s domain.

Now on familiar ground, Wang Ran shed his disguise, removing the effects of his concealing cloak and resuming his own appearance as he strolled leisurely toward the mountain gates.

Along the way, he encountered many fellow disciples. Some recognized him and greeted him with respect, for his purple-and-white robe marked him as an inner disciple. Others, proud and aloof, ignored him and kept their distance, unwilling to lower their heads to anyone.

Wang Ran took no offense, whistling as he made his way to his own Third Peak.

Within the sect, life bustled as always; disciples laughed and chatted in groups.

“Senior Brother Ye from the inner sect returned yesterday—he looked absolutely furious!”

“Ha, I heard he lost out at the auction this time!”

“That’s right. The Golden Spirit Fruit he wanted was snatched away by a Nascent Soul powerhouse.”

“Heavens, really?”

“The best part is, that powerhouse bought the fruit just because he was a little peckish!”

“Pfft, poor Senior Brother Ye, what bad luck.”

“But Senior Brother Beiming Lie was in great spirits—he went straight into seclusion to cultivate.”

“They say he obtained great fortune in Falling Cloud City this time. He’s now cultivating some new technique, and even just passing by his cave, you can feel a powerful aura!”

“Wang Ran’s in trouble now—Beiming Lie swore the first thing he’d do after coming out would be to settle the score with Wang Ran!”

“Tsk tsk, these prodigies are never at peace. Looks like there’s a good show coming.”

As Wang Ran walked by and overheard these conversations—especially the part about Beiming Lie coming for him—he found himself looking forward to it even more than they did.

During his journey back, he too had been cultivating the advanced form of the “Righteous Virtue Sutra.” Perhaps owing to his innate domineering aura, he had made excellent progress. Now, he was confident that if Beiming Lie dared to challenge him, he could suppress him completely. The senior technique naturally subdued the junior one, their relationship akin to ruler and subject.

Suppressing his anticipation, Wang Ran returned to the Third Peak. Inside his courtyard, after searching everywhere, he found no trace of Yao Jianjia—she was evidently still in seclusion.

Not seeing the figure he longed for, Wang Ran felt a pang of disappointment. Sitting beneath a tree, he fell into a quiet melancholy.

Just then, a crisp sound of bells rang outside the courtyard, and in bounced a female disciple in a purple-and-white robe, a childlike smile on her face. With every hop, her ample chest swayed hypnotically.

Wang Ran’s lips curled in a grin—he knew at once who it was. Sure enough, before she even reached him, her sweet voice called out:

“Senior Brother, you’re finally back! I haven’t seen you in months—I missed you so much I thought I’d die!”