“Interested in Bluebloods?” Recalling the qin melody from Master Ruan, which was evidently directed at the Bluebloods, Meng Qi suspected they had long been aware of the Bluebloods’ existence but had kept it under wraps. Why were they now making such overt moves, reaching out to martial sects and prominent families?
Yan Chong lifted a large bowl and took a sip. “Master Ruan, who has long kept to himself, recently wrote letters to powerful sects and families across several nearby provinces, warning of the Bluebloods’ dangers and expressing concerns over their intentions toward Tianding City. He believes the Bluebloods have ulterior motives that threaten humanity, so preemptive action is necessary.”
“That actually makes sense,” Meng Qi mused. If powerful martial experts weren’t wary of the Bluebloods, he would find it strange. “How urgent is Ruan Clan about this matter?”
If the Ruan Clan was truly in a hurry, Meng Qi would lend a hand—even though he hadn’t yet crossed the first Celestial Ladder, the Eight-Ninths Primordial Skill could resist their water manipulation abilities, making him more than capable of handling Bluebloods at the fourth or fifth peak level, whose other abilities were generally unremarkable.
Yan Chong laughed. “Urgent? Even if they wanted to be urgent, they couldn’t. They don’t even know which strong figures the Bluebloods have, where they frequently appear, or where their main base lies deep under the sea. How can they act urgently? This requires divination and information gathering, which can’t be accomplished in a day or two.”
The ocean depths were dangerous, filled with powerful beasts and perilous locations. Combat underwater would severely weaken sensing abilities—even Half-Step Dharma Bodies couldn’t charge recklessly. Searching blindly through the vast ocean would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.
“In that case, I don’t need to rush over,” Meng Qi replied, raising a bowl of wine. He planned to focus on cultivation first, deepening his understanding of martial principles to solidify his foundation before crossing the first Celestial Ladder.
He had already briefly described to He Jiu, Huang Taichong, and others the “visions” of the ocean trench he had seen in the Blueblood’s memories. If the Ruan Clan was serious about confronting the Bluebloods, they would inevitably need to cooperate with the East Sea Sword Manor. He didn’t need to worry about them acquiring intelligence.
Upon hearing this, Yan Chong instinctively asked, “Do you have other matters to attend to?”
As soon as he said it, he shut his mouth. He and Su Meng were only casual acquaintances—how could he ask such a personal question?
Meng Qi lightly patted the wine jar. Wine shot up in a stream, filling the bowl as he chuckled, “I plan to find a quiet place to build a small hermitage and contemplate the principles of Heaven and Earth.”
“You’re close to crossing the first Celestial Ladder?” Yan Chong’s eyes widened.
Meng Qi smiled without answering, only saying, “I originally thought of living next to you, Brother Yan, but I carry too many grudges. It’s better to stay hidden.”
With that, he lifted the wine bowl, drank it all in one go, then turned, pushed open the door, and stepped into the rain.
Rain poured down, turning into pearls that rolled off his body without leaving a trace of dampness. Only the encroaching darkness gradually obscured Meng Qi’s figure.
Yan Chong watched silently, then turned to glance at the flickering candlelight in the wind, letting out a sigh:
“Rainy nights and lamps for ten years. What will the world be like ten years from now?”
…
Autumn skies were clear and refreshing. By day, the vast sea shimmered under the blazing sun, while at night, sea winds cut through ships, bringing a chill to the air.
A lavishly decorated pleasure ship slowly sailed across the endless blue, basking in the golden sunlight.
Unlike other ships, this one had a wide, comfortable bed placed on its deck.
Meng Qi lay bare-chested on the bed, soaking in the sun, his eyes half-closed in bliss like a lazy cat.
Nearby were low tables laden with fruits like grapes and watermelon—off-season delicacies cultivated by families skilled in such techniques, available only at high prices.
Beautiful attendants in sheer gowns sat on small stools to either side, occasionally peeling a grape with delicate fingers or skewering a slice of red watermelon with a toothpick, offering it to Meng Qi’s mouth.
Meng Qi simply opened his mouth, remaining in his lazy state.
The gentle breeze, warm sun, and open deck all seemed to share Meng Qi’s languid mood. The attendants were growing drowsy, and the servant bringing iced plum juice couldn’t help yawning.
“Master,” the left-hand attendant said, bare feet tucked under her, peeling grapes with a smile. “We’ve served many guests, but never seen anyone who enjoys life as much as you. Others either fear the sun or are too proud to relax. You make us envious—we wish we could just sunbathe and nap like this too.”
“Don’t,” Meng Qi mumbled without opening his eyes. “If you get sunburned, you’ll blame me.”
After retreating into cultivation, he had chartered this ship to Langya, spending lavishly and acting unusually, which had piqued the curiosity of the attendants and servants.
The right-hand attendant giggled. “You’ve been sunbathing for days, but your skin hasn’t darkened.”
She knew he was a martial expert, so it wasn’t surprising he hadn’t tanned. She continued, “At first, when we heard you wanted a cooling bed placed on the deck, we thought you were mad or some kind of eccentric noble. We never imagined it could be used like this.”
As she spoke, she took the iced plum juice and stirred it with a spoon, the clear liquid shimmering with coolness.
Meng Qi opened his mouth, waiting for the spoon, sipping the sweet-and-sour coolness without opening his eyes, smiling slightly. “I believe in enjoying life to the fullest. If I can sit, I won’t stand. If I can lie down, I won’t sit. If I can be served, I won’t lift a finger myself.”
Sunlight glowed on his back, making his skin shimmer with a golden hue.
“One of the previous guests once said, ‘Life is short—why make it harder on yourself?’ Was he talking about people like you, Master?” another attendant teased.
She picked up a jade “backscratcher” and gently scratched Meng Qi’s back.
The wind was soft, the sun warm, everything exuding leisure and ease—until a sailor suddenly shouted, “Master! Someone is coming!”
Someone coming? Shouldn’t there be a ship? The attendants blinked in confusion.
Meng Qi had sensed it already. Without rising, still basking in the sun, he murmured lazily, “Ignore him.”
In the distance, a small boat cut through the waves, leaving a deep trail behind. Standing on it was a white-robed figure, spotless in appearance, with an ancient, stern face and an aloof, cold aura. In his hand was a weapon resembling both sword and saber.
His presence was so strong that the sailors barely noticed the boat!
The white-robed man also sensed the pleasure ship. He saw the large bed on the deck, with a half-naked young master lying lazily on it, basking in golden sunlight.
The scene gave an inexplicable sense of relaxation, making one think that bed must be incredibly comfortable.
The white-robed man remained still. The boat slightly changed course, heading toward the pleasure ship. As he approached, he spoke in a strange Jin dialect: “Are you from Southern Jin or Northern Zhou?”
His tone was cold and indifferent, yet carried a hidden sharpness. His voice clearly reached everyone on the ship despite the hundreds of feet distance.
Meng Qi didn’t rise. Still eating the fruit slices offered by the attendants, he lazily replied, “Southern Jin. May I ask where you’re from and what you want?”
The white-robed man lowered the hand holding his sword, his expression turning solemn. “I am Ning Tai, a swordsman from the Eastern Sang Kingdom. I have tested my blade across the nation, undefeated among peers. I’ve heard that Southern Jin and Northern Zhou are filled with talents and heroic figures, so I’ve come to challenge them. Who is the strongest below the first Celestial Ladder?”
“Eastern Sang?” Meng Qi had heard of this Eastern Sea nation. Located deep in the Eastern Sea, it had large islands, abundant resources, almost rivaling the Jiangdong region. It was known for its martial culture and many strong experts, though most merchants only reached Qianli Island due to the perilous sea routes, rarely reaching Jiangdong directly.
“Undefeated below the first Celestial Ladder?” Meng Qi smiled, still speaking lazily. “Central Plains has many talents. Below the first Celestial Ladder, there are many experts. Without a fight, who can say who’s the strongest? But generally, He Jiu of the East Sea Sword Manor and Wang Siyuan of the Jiangdong Wang Clan, who both achieved instant enlightenment, are considered top-tier.”
“Instant enlightenment?” The white-robed man’s eyes lit up, his cold arrogance deepening. “Where are they now?”
“Wang Siyuan is at the ancestral home in Maoling, Jiangdong. He Jiu might be in Tianding City…” Meng Qi, eager to see a fight, pointed out the directions in detail.
Ning Tai listened intently, then touched his sword scabbard. The boat turned and sped toward Tianding City.
He chose not to fly, wanting to preserve his peak condition and energy!
“Master,” the attendant said, “this Eastern Sang swordsman is too arrogant. You’re obviously a strong expert too—why not test your skills against him?”
Meng Qi half-opened his eyes, chuckling, “A few months ago, I would’ve definitely taken him on. But now, I’m contemplating the laws of Heaven and Earth, connecting my mind with eternal principles—learning from Heaven above, Earth below, and nature within. Peace and humility have replaced my fighting spirit.”
“It feels like you’ve become a monk…” the attendant blurted out in astonishment.
Meng Qi opened his mouth, sipping more iced plum juice. “Not at all. This is just a stage. Like the calm before a storm, like the stillness before a flood overflows the banks, like the hammering before a blade is sharpened. Once I adapt to this state, I’ll break free and unleash my full potential.”
“There’s a blade deeply buried in my heart, tempered by my Yuan Shen, forged by true intent, refined by martial principles. It has yet to reveal its sharpness, quietly waiting—waiting for the moment it has gathered enough strength to let out a long cry, stunning the world, soaring high, and cutting through injustice.”
The attendants listened, half-understanding, nodding in confusion.
The pleasure ship continued sailing, and Meng Qi remained in his relaxed state, half-asleep.
Before long, Langya came into view—the premier port of Jiangdong, a world-class harbor filled with grand ships and bustling crowds, the scent of fish ever-present.
Meng Qi, lying on his back soaking in the sun, suddenly opened his eyes—deep, dark, and unfathomable.
Slowly rising, he stretched his arms. The attendants, understanding, helped him put on his black martial outfit.
As he dressed, Meng Qi’s laziness faded, his demeanor turning heroic, exuding confidence and pride.
“It’s like he’s become a different person…” the attendants thought, mesmerized.
Meng Qi retrieved the Tianzhi Blade, gripping it in his left hand at his waist. As he did, it was as if something broke free from chains, radiating brilliance. His aura became overbearing, his posture majestic. Standing still, he exuded a heroic might, as if swallowing ten thousand miles in a single breath.
In the distance, the small boat sped closer, with Ning Tai standing tall upon it.
Suddenly sensing something, Ning Tai turned his gaze toward the pleasure ship. His strange sword vibrated slightly within its scabbard.
“Didn’t you go to Tianding?” Meng Qi smiled slightly.
Ning Tai responded in halting Jin dialect: “He Jiu has arrived in Langya.”
His eyes locked onto Meng Qi. The hand holding the sword subtly shifted inward, positioning the hilt for the fastest possible draw.
The large pleasure ship and the small boat formed a stark contrast.
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