Today’s Second Update

  Over the course of the past month, nearly all of the registered disciples had come to “know” Yun Che.

  Whenever they saw him, their faces inevitably revealed a mixture of smug superiority and thinly veiled mockery, their words sharp, sarcastic, and deliberately cruel.

  Yun Che remained utterly indifferent.

  He understood clearly that these registered disciples—who had entered the sect early yet remained trapped at the very bottom—had long since had their hearts twisted by years of grueling labor and hopelessness. The weight and humiliation they bore had nowhere to go, and Yun Che, a newcomer who had “forced his way in by jumping off a cliff,” naturally became the most convenient outlet for their malice.

  He sneered inwardly. Here, pointless arguments and resistance meant nothing.

  Within the Xuan Frost Sect, strength was law.

  Those who had entered the sect years before him were not only physically stronger, but some of the more cunning ones had even secretly learned fragments of crude Qi-Guiding techniques through dubious means. Though insignificant in the grand scheme, they were more than enough to deal with someone like him. Any confrontation now would only invite humiliation.

  Yet Yun Che was no pliant piece of clay to be kneaded at will.

  Every sneering face, every venomous word—he etched them all deeply into his heart, awaiting the day his strength would be sufficient to settle each account in turn.

  Holding fast to this resolve, he shut out the noise of the world. Each day, he completed his water-carrying quota without fail and used every spare moment to secretly study the mysterious gray-white stone bead hidden close to his chest.

  He experimented with soaking the bead in various liquids: cold spring water from the pool, dew collected from plants, his own sweat, and even drops of blood from a deliberately cut fingertip.

  In the end, dew proved the most effective—especially the crystalline droplets that naturally seeped from the bead’s surface at dawn. These contained the purest and most abundant nurturing power.

  Even among the two, there were differences.

  The “bead-dew” formed directly at daybreak was the most potent. Dew condensed on plants at night and was later absorbed and transformed by the bead, which ranked second. Ordinary dew collected elsewhere and used to soak the bead was noticeably weaker.

  By comparison, cold pool water had only minor effects, while blood and sweat elicited almost no response at all—the bead seemed utterly uninterested in them.

  To avoid suspicion, Yun Che found several naturally grown, withered wild gourds in the remote back mountains. He hollowed them out and used them to store dew collected at different times and through different methods.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  He never brought these gourds back to his quarters. Instead, he buried them deeply at several carefully chosen hidden locations, retrieving them only when necessary.

  The gourd he carried on him contained nothing more than ordinary spring water. Yet even a few sips of water soaked by the bead could rapidly restore his strength—his secret weapon for enduring the brutal labor.

  There was, however, another strange phenomenon.

  Whenever dew formed on the bead’s surface at dawn or nightfall, it initially appeared plentiful. But when he actually attempted to collect it, more than half would inexplicably vanish. In the end, less than one-tenth of what he had seen could be carefully gathered.

  Left with no better explanation, Yun Che concluded that most of the dew had been absorbed by the bead itself.

  Absurd as it sounded, no other explanation made sense. The bead’s mysteries clearly went far beyond mere healing and physical enhancement.

  That evening, after filling the final three vats of water, Yun Che approached Liu—the yellow-robed disciple meditating on the bluestone outside the building.

  “Senior Brother Liu,” Yun Che said respectfully, “my father’s birthday is approaching. I wish to request leave to return home. I will not be coming tomorrow.”

  Liu lifted his eyelids slightly, glanced at him, and emitted a noncommittal grunt before closing his eyes again, as if even acknowledging Yun Che was a waste of effort.

  Yun Che did not mind.

  From Zhang Hu, he had already learned that registered disciples were allowed three home visits per year, provided they obtained approval from Elder Sun along with a simple talisman known as a Divine Travel Talisman.

  His father’s birthday was imminent. As a son, he had no choice but to return.

  Leaving the menial quarters, Yun Che headed straight for Elder Sun’s domain.

  The outer sect was roughly divided into “Four Halls and One Pavilion”: the Body-Tempering Hall, the Labor Hall, the Lecture Hall, the Discipline Hall, and the central Steward Pavilion.

  Inner disciples and elders resided instead on the main peak, where spiritual energy was far denser.

  Yun Che had often gazed toward the main peak with longing while carrying water.

  Now, standing outside a quiet auxiliary courtyard near the Steward Pavilion, he steadied himself and called out, “Registered disciple Yun Che seeks an audience with Elder Sun.”

  Shortly after, a white-robed youth with an arrogant expression strolled out, looked Yun Che up and down, and said coldly, “You’re Yun Che?”

  Yun Che nodded respectfully.

  The youth turned and led him inside without another word.

  The courtyard was modest yet elegant. Outside a garden filled with strange flowers and faint medicinal fragrance, the youth lazily announced, “Martial Uncle Sun, a registered disciple seeks an audience.”

  “Let him in,” came the elderly voice from within.

  The moment Yun Che stepped through the garden gate, an overwhelming medicinal fragrance washed over him—pure, invigorating, unlike any scent he had known. His spirit lifted instantly.

  Startled, he glanced back at the gate. Outside, not a trace of the fragrance could be sensed, as though an invisible barrier separated the two worlds.

  “Why are you standing there? State your business!” Elder Sun’s impatient voice rang out.

  Yun Che hurried forward and bowed deeply. “This disciple, Yun Che, greets Elder Sun. My father’s birthday approaches, and I humbly request leave to return home.”

  “Yun Che?” The elder snorted. “A cultivator must sever worldly attachments. Clinging to mortal affection like this—forget ever touching the Great Dao!”

  Yun Che frowned slightly and could not help replying, “Elder, I have yet to learn even a single cultivation technique. I merely carry water and sweep floors. How dare I claim to be a cultivator?”

  Silence followed.

  At last, Elder Sun spoke again, clearly annoyed. “Enough. Three days only. Go and return quickly.”

  A yellow talisman drifted out from the window and landed at Yun Che’s feet.

  That night, under a sky filled with stars, Yun Che activated the talisman and vanished into the darkness—unaware that behind him, Elder Sun would soon discover his precious Blue Star Grass mysteriously withered, its vitality drained away.

  And for the first time, the elder began to seriously remember the name:

  Yun Che.