Seeing Ao Fugui so angry that he was practically spitting blood, Xue Ying thought for a moment and kindly stepped forward to console him. “Young Master Ao, it’s better not to push yourself too hard. The Five-Colored Divine Feather is something the Taichu Sect has already decided to claim.”
She then offered a timely and gentle reminder, “Here’s the thing, Young Master Ao—we prefer to obtain the Five-Colored Divine Feather through fair and open means. But if you insist on being stubborn, I wouldn’t mind resorting to some… personal methods.”
As she spoke, Xue Ying placed her hand on the hilt of her sword.
Ao Fugui’s eyelid twitched. The lingering pain from Xue Ying’s previous beating still throbbed across his body. He stared at the two of them, his mind and body both battered, but his sense of justice still held him upright. “The Dragon Clan will never surrender! Unless you step over my corpse, you will never lay hands on the Five-Colored Divine Feather!”
Xue Ying pointed at the envoy who had been idly watching the drama unfold. “Just a reminder—the Five-Colored Divine Feather still technically belongs to the envoy.”
Setting aside Ao Fugui’s declaration, the envoy, who had been dragged into the spotlight, stepped forward to mediate. While most cultivators were seen as ethereal immortals, this envoy seemed to defy common sense—or perhaps the common sense of the Daoist realm. He was round and plump, exuding an air of amiable prosperity, and his words carried the same tone.
“Everyone here is working for the benefit of Yunmengze. There’s no need for such unpleasantness—let’s all calm down.”
Seeing Ao Fugui about to retort, the envoy chuckled warmly. “In life, the most important thing is happiness.”
“Though, technically, you’re not human.”
Ao Fugui: *Who the hell are you calling a beast?*
With one panda eye still unhealed and his sour expression, Ao Fugui perfectly embodied the concept of poetic justice for a villain.
Meanwhile, the “battery-depleted repeater” Du Yizhou finally spoke like a human. “Continue.”
*Keep bidding. The Taichu Sect is filthy rich—we can afford it.*
The envoy wiped his sweat and signaled the auctioneer to proceed. When Du Yizhou quoted an astronomical price, the entire room gasped, murmurs spreading like wildfire.
“As expected of the number one sect in the Daoist realm.”
“That price could buy an entire high-grade spirit vein!”
“It seems the East Sea Dragon Clan will have to retreat empty-handed this time.”
Despite holding the upper hand, Du Yizhou showed no trace of arrogance. In fact, before Ao Fugui could even speak, he raised the stakes to crush his opponent completely. “The quoted price will be paid in spirit stones within three days.”
In other words: *I’ll pay the full amount in cash upfront.*
This wasn’t just ordinary wealth—most rich people these days preferred investments. Having money was one thing, but liquid assets were another. For Du Yizhou to pull out such a sum at once made people seriously wonder if the Taichu Sect secretly ran a money-printing operation.
Then again, considering Lin Jiujiu’s father owned spirit mines, it probably wasn’t that big of a deal.
After Du Yizhou promised payment within three days, Ao Fugui’s face turned ashen. Yes, he was the Crown Prince of the East Sea, and the ocean held endless treasures—deep-sea ores, marine products, pearls hidden in shells, and a palace of crystal. But none of that mattered in the face of Du Yizhou’s upfront cash offer.
Liquidity took time, especially for Ao Fugui. If he suddenly dumped a massive amount of pearls onto the market, he wouldn’t become rich overnight—instead, the price of pearls would plummet.
He, Ao Fugui, simply couldn’t compete.
When Ao Fugui failed to respond within moments, the envoy gave a subtle signal, and the auctioneer began the countdown in a sweet voice. At that moment, Ao Fugui was lost in memories—his father’s aged figure, the teachings of his prime minister echoing in his mind.
*”A thousand years ago, the Dragon Clan ruled the world. Now, we are suppressed beneath the waves, barely surviving, drowning in wine and dreams. We have forgotten our former glory. Your father is old and useless now, unable to shoulder the burden of reviving our clan. But you—you are the Crown Prince of the East Sea, the True Dragon of Destiny, the last hope of our people. Those who achieve greatness do not dwell on trivialities. Endure today’s humiliation for tomorrow’s triumph. Prince, never forget your duty.”*
He stared down at his palm, the whispers of others filling his ears—the arrogance of the Daoists, the suppressed killing intent of the swordsman, the malice and pity flooding his mind. His heart clenched. Just as the auctioneer reached the final count, Ao Fugui shouted, “Wait!”
All eyes turned to him. Clenching his fists, he threw aside his cane and stepped forward, glaring at Du Yizhou. “You forced my hand.”
Du Yizhou couldn’t even be bothered to look at him properly. *Can’t beat Xue Ying in a fight, can’t outbid me—what right do you have to my attention?* “I don’t bully idiots.”
The sheer arrogance of those words made Ao Fugui’s face tighten with suppressed rage. “I’ll say it again—the Five-Colored Divine Feather belongs only to the Dragon Clan. Otherwise—”
Despite his battered state, he stood tall, his pride unbroken. This display actually earned Du Yizhou’s grudging respect. He raised an eyebrow. “Otherwise what?”
Ao Fugui sniffled, then plopped onto the ground and wailed, “I’ll cry!”
Du Yizhou: *”…”*
*Damn it, I really am bullying an idiot.*
But that wasn’t all. The moment Ao Fugui started crying, his shrimp and crab soldiers also dropped to their knees, wailing in unison.
“Your Highness! A man’s tears are not shed lightly—please don’t cry!”
“We can go home and ask the Dragon King to avenge you!”
Once the waterworks started, Ao Fugui couldn’t stop. He rolled on the ground, bawling. “I can’t beat anyone in a fight, I can’t outbid anyone—what’s the point of living? I don’t want to be the True Dragon anymore! Someone else can take the title!”
Amid the sobbing, the envoy mused aloud, “Now that I think about it, news of the East Sea’s True Dragon only emerged seven years ago. So, how old is this ‘Crown Prince’ exactly…?”
No need to ask—he was definitely seven years old.
Xue Ying felt a pang of guilt. *I actually beat up a child.* And Du Yizhou was even worse—crushing a kid’s spirit. She immediately shifted blame. “Senior Brother, apologize!”
Du Yizhou scowled. “You have the nerve to say that.”
*I competed fairly in business. You, on the other hand, deceived a child and physically assaulted him. Who’s the real villain here?*
The two sect siblings bickered, each accusing the other of bullying a child, but neither bothered to pick up the sobbing Ao Fugui from the floor. Only the envoy was left in an awkward position—torn between currying favor with Du Yizhou and fearing Ao Fugui’s future retaliation.
*Stuck between a rock and a hard place—and now I’m the beast again?*
Du Yizhou, however, had no such concerns. Compared to the Dragon Clan colluding with the Demon Clan, he’d much rather have them direct their hatred at the Taichu Sect.
*As the number one sect in the Daoist realm, we aim to be first in attracting enemies too.*
The auction concluded with a resounding success. Du Yizhou was in high spirits as he organized his team, preparing for the exchange of goods and payment in a few days.
To prevent the Dragon Clan from causing trouble, Du Yizhou specifically dragged Xue Ying and Wen An along as his tools—one to lead the way, the other to follow, ensuring the Five-Colored Divine Feather’s safe return to the Taichu Sect.
Xue Ying had initially grumbled, but after hearing the compensation Du Yizhou offered, she not only shut up but even threw in a few compliments.
“Senior Brother, your talent and looks are unmatched—truly worthy of being the Taichu Sect’s head disciple!”
Du Yizhou was long used to Xue Ying’s sweet-talking when money was involved. In contrast, Wen An, who also worked for pay, never had a kind word to say.
As Wen An put it: *Getting paid to work is only natural. Expecting flattery from the Taichu Sect? Dream on.*
On their way back, rain began to fall. Xue Ying stood under the eaves, fiddling with her veil as she debated whether to wait for the rain to stop. The envoy lingered nearby, hesitating. Here was a young, talented swordswoman, bearing the title of a Sword Immortal’s disciple—anyone would want to cozy up to her.
But then there were the two men beside her…
The envoy muttered to himself. *Rainy day, handsome man and beautiful woman—something’s bound to happen. Offering an umbrella, walking back together, a few sweet nothings… As a married man, I should stay out of this.*
Just then, Xue Ying spoke to her two companions. “It’s raining.”
Though Yunmengze enjoyed eternal spring, the sudden downpour had brought a noticeable chill. Dressed only in a light robe, Xue Ying shivered slightly as the cold wind and rain brushed past her.
She shook off the chill and muttered, “The wind’s a bit strong.”
The envoy perked up. *Here it comes.*
*Rainy day, no umbrella, feeling cold—what does that mean?*
Having been thoroughly trained by his wife, his first instinct was: *Take off your coat and give it to her. Whether it fits doesn’t matter—it’s the thought that counts. Hold the umbrella properly—don’t let her get wet.*
The Taichu Sect disciple, who had been throwing money around at the auction, wore luxurious robes with a light gauze overlay. Compared to the somewhat grimy streets of Yunmengze, he’d likely prefer to ride back in a windproof, rainproof magical artifact. And if he happened to bring a junior sister along, well, that was just natural.
Du Yizhou did hear her words. He turned to Xue Ying, his usually cold face showing a hint of concern. “You’re cold?”
The envoy subtly shifted his position, striving to be the most elegant background while eavesdropping on the juiciest gossip.
Xue Ying wasn’t actually cold. As a swordswoman who trained in all weather, complaining about a little rain would be shameful.
She just thought the rain felt… off.
Earlier, Qiuqiu had wreaked havoc on Yunmengze, evaporating half its waters. To put it politely, the climate had shifted from tropical rainforest to subtropical. To put it bluntly—it was now a fiery mountain and barren desert. *”Wear a coat in the morning, gauze at noon”—even the groundhogs wouldn’t bother with melons here.*
*Are there even melons?*
With no clouds left, where was this rain coming from?
Before Xue Ying could puzzle it out, Du Yizhou spoke again—with a level of concern even Lin Jiujiu didn’t receive. “Wear more layers.”
She turned to him. The rain had dampened his face, lending it an unusual warmth as he said, “If you get sick or injured—”
“Remember to return my payment.”
They stared at each other for a moment before Xue Ying deadpanned, “Oh.”
With that, Du Yizhou ignored her and stepped into the rain. Spiritual energy shielded him from the downpour, leaving him perfectly dry as he vanished down the street.
The envoy’s teeth ached from secondhand cringe. He pinned his hopes on Wen An, praying for some heartwarming camaraderie or childhood sweetheart romance—anything to make his eavesdropping worthwhile.
But then…
Wen An opened his beloved purple bamboo umbrella and said to Xue Ying, who stood beside him, “Move. You’re in the way.”
Xue Ying knew Wen An’s quirks—his refined scholar act, his pretentious artistic phases. *Don’t interrupt him when he’s being extra.* She cheerfully stepped aside, watching him leave.
The envoy: *”…”*
*That’s it?*
Unable to take it anymore, he approached Xue Ying. “Fellow Daoist, the roads are slippery in the rain—”
Xue Ying cut in, “Slippery roads? Yunmengze’s infrastructure must be terrible.”
That single sentence made the envoy swallow the rest of his words.
*Who are you calling lazy? If Yunmengze had good infrastructure, would we need rich people like you to insult us?*
After sending off these insufferable cultivators, the envoy puffed out his belly and went home to seek comfort from his wife.
With everyone gone, only Ao Fugui and his shrimp and crab soldiers remained in the auction hall. They urged him to return and regroup, but Ao Fugui wiped his eyes and stood, his earlier breakdown replaced with cold determination.
“Summon the Prime Minister.”
He would not give up the Five-Colored Divine Feather—not when it was his chance to subdue the Phoenix Clan!
—
The next morning, the rain still hadn’t stopped. Xue Ying paid it no mind, opting for indoor training instead.
By afternoon, the downpour continued. Xue Ying wandered to the common area, sitting beside Wen An to snack on melon seeds as he painted the rainy scenery.
“This timely rain is fortunate. A few more days of this, and Yunmengze might not need expensive repairs,” she mused.
Wen An, busy gilding a lotus in his painting, barely spared a thought for Yunmengze. He nudged Xue Ying. “Practice with me. Don’t lose your touch.”
Xue Ying considered it. Painting, like swordplay, required constant practice. She fetched paper and brushes, ready to sit with Wen An—only to turn and find him arguing with Du Yizhou again.
“You meddle in painting, you meddle in swordplay—Du Yizhou, are you insane?”
“None of your business.”
Xue Ying chewed on her brush, then decided to stir the pot. “Senior Brother Wen, Senior Brother Du just can’t stand seeing you succeed.”
“Senior Brother Du, don’t lose to Senior Brother Wen!”
Her fence-sitting was too obvious. Wen An glared. “Whose side are you on?”
Xue Ying grinned. “Neither. I’m just here to fan the flames.”
Wen An: *”…”*
*Waiting for us to fight so you can join in, huh?*
He immediately packed up his supplies and left without another word.
With no one left to argue with, Du Yizhou calmed down. He eyed Xue Ying’s half-finished painting. “How much is Wen An paying you?”
“I’ll double it.”
Xue Ying realized Du Yizhou wanted to poach her as his painting assistant. She hesitated. “Senior Brother, that’s not very appropriate.”
*I have professional integrity.*
“Triple.”
“I’m not that kind of person.”
“Quintuple.”
*”I’m absolutely that kind of person. Let’s go, Senior Brother.”*
After taking Du Yizhou’s sketches, Xue Ying returned to her room to work. With nowhere to go in the rain and no way back to the sect, she threw herself into the task. Finding her veil bothersome, she removed it and bent over the desk, diligently outlining.
The work was absorbing—when she looked up, the sky was still bright; when she looked down again, it was dark. Lost in the rhythm, and with no need for sleep as a cultivator, she only stood when the timer showed three full days had passed.
The rain outside showed no sign of stopping. She stretched, planning to take a break before resuming work. But before she could take more than a few steps, the envoy arrived with his entourage.
True to his philosophy of *”I may be fat and out of breath, but my patrons shall suffer no inconvenience,”* he made regular visits to check on them. Yesterday was Du Yizhou’s turn, the day before was Wen An’s—today, it was Xue Ying’s.
In the long corridor, a graceful figure leaned halfway against the window lattice, with an unfinished painting on the table. He took a few steps forward and, against the light, caught a glimpse of Xue Ying’s true face.
[He had never seen such a stunning woman before. At that moment, he felt the rain stop, the sky clear, and his spirits lift.]
Xue Ying and the Envoy stared at each other, wide-eyed. Before Xue Ying could retreat to retrieve Guanhuo, Wen An happened to arrive, flipping through some drafts and urging Xue Ying to get back to work. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the scattered sketches on the table—none of his own, which meant they belonged to Du Yizhou.
He roared at Xue Ying, “How could you do this?!”
[He was here first. How did things turn out like this?]
The Envoy, who had just snapped out of his daze from Xue Ying’s beauty, overheard the whispers of the Divine Listener, and his gossip radar shot up instantly.
Xue Ying wiped cold sweat from her brow. She shouldn’t have taken Guanhuo off for convenience. “Senior Brother, calm down. I only did it for the money.”
Wen An was eerily composed. “How much did he give you?”
[He knew it. This woman was always two-timing—lusting after his body while eyeing Du Yizhou’s wealth.]
Xue Ying, “…Shut up.”
As Xue Ying moved to put Guanhuo back on, the Divine Listener wailed in despair, [Wait! I know why Yunmengze has been raining for three days straight!]
Xue Ying was merciless. “Whether it’s apricot blossoms in the rain or sleet, I’m not interested in misplaced affections. Log off.”
She really wanted to shut the Divine Listener up, but the Envoy wouldn’t have it. Yunmengze was his home, and cleanliness was everyone’s responsibility. Carrying an umbrella every day was a hassle, and clothes wouldn’t dry. So the Envoy asked, “I wonder what treasure you’ve brought, capable of predicting the weather?”
As he spoke, he scrutinized Xue Ying’s Bailu, half-wondering if this treasure was a legendary sword spirit turned human—like in *Pure Disciple, Charming Master*, where they called their master by day and “darling” by night.
The Divine Listener, ever the charmer, chimed in, [Oh, you naughty thing, stop staring like that. You’re making me blush.]
The Envoy chuckled dryly, leaving the rest unsaid.
Xue Ying’s face darkened. “I wouldn’t mind cleaving Yunmengze in two with my sword, so you two can call each other ‘naughty darling’ underground.”
The Divine Listener immediately wilted, muttering about giving her too much freedom, then dutifully returned to business. [Dragons are born with the power to command wind and rain. Though defeated by the Phoenix Clan, their mastery over the skies and seas remains unbroken. Ordinary dragons can summon thunder and lightning, let alone true dragons. The recent downpour in Yunmengze is the work of a true dragon.]
While the Envoy pondered the mystery, Xue Ying cut to the chase. “Speak human.”
[Ao Fugui cries when it rains, and when he’s in a bad mood, it rains too. If you don’t cheer him up soon, Yunmengze will become Yunmeng *Sea*.]
Xue Ying was stunned. “Wait, he’s a male dragon. Why does he have a Little Dragon Girl gimmick?”
“Seriously?”
[Why would I lie? Lash him with a whip, and he’ll even cry sleet for you.]
Xue Ying perked up, strapping on Guanhuo and grabbing Bailu. “Envoy, hold on. Let me test this out first, then we’ll decide.”
The Envoy snapped out of it and shouted, “Wait, fellow cultivator!”
True or not, if she actually whipped Ao Fugui, the Envoy would be the one left holding the bag.
After much persuasion, the Envoy managed to stop her and took the lead to find Ao Fugui himself. Xue Ying followed as backup, asking Wen An, “Senior Brother, if this is true, what should we do?”
Ao Fugui was crying because he couldn’t outbid Du Yizhou, costing the Dragon Clan the Five-Colored Divine Feather. Now, with the dragon’s tears threatening to drown Yunmengze, there was only one solution:
She’d skin that little bastard.
Wen An, still fuming, replied coldly, “Why ask me? Go find Du Yizhou. He’s rich—let him throw money at it.”
Wen An was usually even-tempered, handling even the toughest sect matters with a smile. His visible anger today showed just how much Xue Ying had provoked him.
Having spent years together, Xue Ying knew Wen An’s temper well. She stepped closer, coaxing, “Don’t be mad, Senior Brother. I’ll split my pay with you.”
Wen An remained unmoved. Xue Ying gritted her teeth. “Twenty-eight split.”
“Thirty-seven.”
“Deal.”
Wen An’s mood instantly brightened, his voice softening. “If the sky falls, I’ll hold it up for you.”
Xue Ying thought, *More like you’re worried you won’t get Du Yizhou’s money if I die.*
Both harbored ulterior motives. The Envoy, overhearing half the conversation, mused that the Sword Immortal’s disciples were truly formidable, reducing even these two to simpering admirers.
Then he recalled Xue Ying’s beauty and sighed. *Beautiful women have no hearts. My wife’s better.*
Ao Fugui lived outside the city, by the water—not in a humble hut but a half-crystal palace, flaunting the Dragon Clan’s wealth. Every passerby couldn’t help but marvel:
*Dragons are filthy rich.*
Approaching the Dragon Clan’s residence, Ao Fugui’s wails could be heard from afar—all thunder, no rain. The dark clouds above dutifully rumbled in response.
Xue Ying noted this detail and followed the Envoy inside.
They were received not in the main hall but by a waterside pavilion in the backyard, surrounded on three sides by water. Ao Fugui was half-submerged, likely rehydrating after days of crying. His dragon tail flicked lazily in the distance. If not for his flat chest, Xue Ying might’ve mistaken him for a mermaid.
“Honestly,” she muttered, “why isn’t he a merman? Crying rain is so tacky. Crying pearls would’ve been classier.”
Wen An had no interest in *Ne Zha Legends*, and Yunmengze had no desire to become the next Chentang Pass, earning the Dragon Clan’s wrath. The simplest solution was to hand the Five-Colored Divine Feather to the dragons and appease the brat. But the Taichu Sect might not comply, and Ao the Seven-Year-Old seemed unwilling to back down.
So what now?
*Call the parents.*
The Envoy pretended not to hear and approached Ao Fugui. Gone was the domineering arrogance from their first meeting. Now, Ao Fugui’s handsome face was marred by puffy eyes—proof of his dedicated sobbing.
As host, the Envoy greeted him politely. “It’s been days, Your Highness. I hope you’ve been well?”
Ao Fugui pressed a boiled egg to his swollen eyes, his voice hoarse from crying. “Do I *look* well to you?”
The Envoy hesitated. Noticing Ao Fugui wasn’t shedding many tears and the rain outside was light, he doubted the Divine Listener’s claims and probed further. “Ancient texts say dragons are majestic—kings of the sea, masters of wind and rain, capable of moving mountains and eclipsing the sun and moon.”
The flattery made Ao Fugui’s tail perk up. “You’ve got taste,” he said smugly.
Xue Ying’s gaze lingered on the wagging tail. Impatient with the Envoy’s roundabout approach, she cut in, “Is it true you cry rain?”
Ao Fugui scowled at the sight of her, his bones aching at the memory. He snapped at a shrimp soldier, “Who let her in?!”
The shrimp soldier replied, “Your Highness couldn’t beat her. How could I stop her?”
Ao Fugui fumed, glaring at Xue Ying with one bloodshot eye. “What do you want?”
Objectively, Ao Fugui was good-looking. Beyond his face and figure, his striking eyes—like his personality—were dazzlingly rich and beautiful.
Xue Ying said, “I heard Yunmengze’s rain is your doing, so the Envoy and I came to verify.”
Ao Fugui snorted, propping himself up on the bank to look down at her. “About time you showed respect.”
He wasn’t *actually* seven. As a divine beast, he’d inherited ancient knowledge—stories of creation heard even in the egg. He’d learned to spin tales and think fast. His tantrum at the auction was meant to show these foolish cultivators he wasn’t to be trifled with.
No Five-Colored Divine Feather? Then Yunmengze would become Atlantis.
Xue Ying nodded. “So the legends are true. You cry, it rains. Out of curiosity, what’s the precipitation rate?”
Worried he wouldn’t understand, she gestured. “Like, how much rain per cry? How many times a day? How long per session?”
Ao Fugui was floored. Who would track such nonsense? “None of your business!”
It *wasn’t* her business, but she’d noticed the weather outside. Ao Fugui’s sadness had passed, and so had the rain and thunder. Xue Ying estimated, “Envoy, I think we’re overreacting. If three days of crying only produced this much, it’s hardly a crisis.”
The Envoy hesitated. “Still…”
Xue Ying, “If he couldn’t cry properly in three days, expecting three years is unrealistic. Normal people need breaks between sobs. Three years nonstop, and we’d be the ones crying at his grave.”
The Envoy, “…”
Ao Fugui bristled. “Who are you calling short-lived?! Sword Immortal’s disciple, don’t think I don’t see your scheme. You just want to drive me out so Taichu can steal the feather!”
Xue Ying shot back, “Shut it. You couldn’t even cry a proper storm. What’s there to fear?”
Ao Fugui, “You—”
Xue Ying, “Me what? If crying makes rain, then cry now. Cry a flood, and the Envoy will hand over the feather. Taichu will leave on the spot.”
Ao Fugui was too furious to cry. The clouds mirrored his mood—thunder, no rain. Xue Ying kept egging him on until he snapped, “Sword Immortal’s disciple, you’ve gone too far!”
Xue Ying, “If you’re not crying, I haven’t gone far enough. Well? Cry or not? No tears, the feather goes to Taichu.”
Ao Fugui: *I’m gonna die of rage.*
He thrashed his tail, splashing water everywhere. “Push me again, and I won’t hold back!”
Xue Ying zeroed in. “Not hold back against *who*? Me?”
Her tone practically *purred* with anticipation. Ao Fugui shrank back, dragging the Envoy into it. “Envoy, even if my clan couldn’t win the feather, you shouldn’t conspire to wipe us out. If Yunmengze shows no mercy, don’t blame the dragons for retaliation.”
As he spoke, a gale howled outside, lightning splitting the sky. The Envoy paled, ready to kneel and beg.
Xue Ying turned to Wen An. “Senior Brother, the Dragon Clan is threatening Yunmengze to extort the feather. As champions of justice, shouldn’t Taixuan take a stand?”
Her words dripped with righteousness, but Wen An saw through her fishing expedition—no, *dragon*-fishing.
Rubbing his temples, he pulled her aside and addressed Ao Fugui politely. “May I ask your elder brother’s rank?”
Ao Fugui frowned. “Youngest. Why?”
Wen An promptly demoted him from “Your Highness” to “Little Prince.” “Little Prince, Taichu values harmony. Yunmengze auctioned the feather for peace. If the Dragon Clan resorts to threats, will the cultivation world not scorn you?”
The accusation was too heavy. Ao Fugui stiffened but stubbornly insisted, “The Dragon Clan did nothing wrong!”
Wen An almost laughed. Someone else did—louder and blunter. “So, according to you, my clan is irredeemably evil?”
Xue Ying turned to see a young man in a crimson cloak approaching. Handsome, with sharp brows, he carried a peach branch and offered it to her with a smile. “Spring breezes brush the rails, dew glows rich. A humble gift for the fair lady.”
Everyone stared. The man wasn’t bad-looking, so Xue Ying accepted. “Thanks.”
Ao Fugui, still in the water, yelled, “Teacher! They’re Taichu’s lackeys!”
Xue Ying bristled. *Lackeys?* Taichu wasn’t even fit to *clean* Taixuan’s boots.
The man draped his cloak over Ao Fugui’s head. “Guests deserve respect. Your disheveled state is unbecoming.”
Ao Fugui poked his head out, sulking. “But they—”
A single glance silenced him. He ducked underwater, blowing bubbles.
With Ao Fugui handled, the man introduced himself. “My student is unruly. Yan Zhi apologizes on his behalf.”
Xue Ying twirled the warm peach branch. “No harm done.”
Yan Zhi smiled. “My nephew often speaks of Taichu’s prestige as the top sect. Seeing you today, I understand what ‘immortal grace’ truly means.”
Xue Ying recalled Taichu did have a junior named Yan Gou—labeled “cannon fodder” by the Divine Listener.
“Is your nephew Yan Gou?”
Yan Zhi nodded. “A disappointing child, I’m afraid.”
His poise was impeccable, his words measured. In moments, he’d defused tensions, flattered subtly, and charmed effortlessly. Wen An’s displeasure had barely surfaced when Yan Zhi turned to him. “About the feather—it holds great significance for the dragons. We’re willing to offer anything in exchange for ten years’ use.”
Wen An truly couldn’t make the decision on this matter. He glanced at the others present, and the envoy immediately declared, “Yunmengze recognizes money, not people. Once the payment is received, we will never inquire about the whereabouts of the Five-Colored Divine Feather again.”
These words pleased Yan Zhi greatly, and he even apologized to the envoy, saying that Ao Fugui was young and had made a mistake, hoping the envoy wouldn’t take it to heart. He promised to send some seafood later to help the envoy calm his nerves.
With both sides in high spirits, Wen An found himself unable to decide. “This matter must still be discussed with the elders.”
Yan Zhi nodded with a smile. “Then I shall await your good news.”
After seeing Xue Ying and her group off, Yan Zhi sat down to enjoy his tea. Ao Fugui grew anxious. “Teacher, are we really going to share our family assets with those stinky Taoists?”
Yan Zhi lowered his head and blew on the tea, his eyes shimmering with a blue light. Like Yan Gou, Yan Zhi carried the blood of the dragon clan. The difference was that Yan Zhi had been invited by the dragon clan. Famous from a young age, he was considered a prodigy. However, Yan Zhi had no interest in pursuing immortality or the Dao. Born into a prominent family, he was more enthralled by the art of politics. Thus, when the dragon clan sought him out, he agreed without hesitation.
Could this true dragon sovereign truly unite the four realms?
“Don’t panic. The Taichu Sect wouldn’t dare act recklessly. They wouldn’t have the guts to swallow half the dragon clan either. Sooner or later, they’ll come back to negotiate with us. As long as there’s negotiation, there’s no mouth we can’t pry open.”
Yan Zhi gazed at the distant clouds, recalling Xue Ying’s demeanor earlier. He turned to Ao Fugui and asked, “Do you know that female Taoist?”
Ao Fugui curled his lip. “The disciple of Sword Immortal Yuhengzi. An ugly freak with a sharp tongue, bad temper, and a violent streak.”
As he grumbled, he noticed the amusement in Yan Zhi’s eyes and suddenly felt a sense of foreboding. “Teacher, don’t tell me…”
Yan Zhi stood up, confirming Ao Fugui’s suspicions. “The disciple of the foremost figure in the Daoist world. We could invite her over sometime.”
If they could arrange a marriage alliance with the Taixuan Sect, it would be a significant advantage.
Ao Fugui wailed again, rolling around in the water. “No! We agreed before—my marriage is my decision! I want a big-breasted, beautiful sister, not a flat-chested one!”
Yan Zhi replied, “This matter isn’t settled yet. Besides…”
How can one pacify the world without a flat chest? What’s wrong with being flat-chested? She’s flat-chested too—who are you looking down on?
**
On the way back, it began to rain again. Wondering what Ao Fugui was up to, the envoy bid farewell first, unwilling to get further involved. Xue Ying studied the peach branch in her hand, her absorbed demeanor astonishing Wen An. “I’ve never seen you so engrossed in anything other than swordsmanship.”
Xue Ying tucked the branch away and squeezed under Wen An’s umbrella. “Not true. I’m quite interested in money too.”
Wen An said, “I meant people. Yan Zhi isn’t a sword cultivator, yet you treat him differently.”
Xue Ying thought for a moment. “I like Yan Zhi. I want to be friends with her.”
It was the first time she’d met someone so remarkable—elegant like a scholar yet unrestrained like a cultivator.
Xue Ying mused about chatting with Yan Zhi again, while Wen An subtly tilted the umbrella away, reminding her, “He’s the dragon clan’s prime minister, and his intentions toward the Taichu Sect are unclear.”
Xue Ying took note, pondering how to turn conflict into harmony. When they returned and met Du Yizhou, Wen An explained the situation. Xue Ying had an idea. “Senior Brother, the only reason we want the Five-Colored Divine Feather is to capture the Female Marquis. If we have it, she won’t dare act recklessly. Why not cooperate with the dragon clan to lure her out? Once she’s captured, the feather will be useless to us. We might as well give it to the dragon clan.”
After all, Qiuqiu was in Taisu Valley. Even if the dragon clan stormed the demon realm, it wouldn’t matter.
Xue Ying thought her reasoning was sound, but Wen An gave her a strange look before muttering, “A grown daughter is no longer her parents’.”
Du Yizhou was more direct. “Do you fancy this Yan Zhi?”
“Fancy” meant wanting to be friends, so Xue Ying nodded. “She’s beautiful.”
Who wouldn’t love a beautiful sister, especially one so refined and scholarly?
Du Yizhou toyed with the jade ruyi the envoy had given him, avoiding a direct answer. He only said they’d wait for the elders’ decision. After Xue Ying left, his gaze lingered on Wen An. Perhaps the sentimental mood from his writing hadn’t faded yet, as he murmured, “Childhood friends can’t compete with fate.”
Wen An couldn’t take it anymore. Just because he and Xue Ying grew up together didn’t mean there was anything between them. “Isn’t it you who’s been secretly in love with her?”
Du Yizhou looked even more incredulous. “Isn’t it you?”
The two fell silent before Wen An stormed out, slamming the door. They cursed each other as lunatics.
Regardless of who was the third wheel, Du Yizhou reported the matter, and the elders actually agreed. Delighted by the reply, Xue Ying volunteered to deliver the news to Yan Zhi. Watching her leave, Du Yizhou felt the gravity of the situation. He asked Wen An, “What do we do now?”
Wen An had only one response. “There are only live-in pretty boys, never married-off sword cultivators.”
This Yan Zhi was scheming—taking the Five-Colored Divine Feather and trying to snag a Sword Immortal’s disciple in the process.
Dream on!
**
On the other side, Yan Zhi warmly received Xue Ying. Upon learning that the Taichu Sect was willing to gift the Five-Colored Divine Feather, a faint smile appeared on his refined face. “In that case, I shall visit the two Taoists tomorrow with the crown prince—first to express gratitude, and second to apologize.”
Xue Ying wasn’t particularly interested in Ao Fugui, but she had plans for Yan Zhi and immediately accepted on Du Yizhou’s behalf. She even gave Yan Zhi a gift in return. “I don’t have anything valuable, but I painted this myself. It’s for you.”
After Xue Ying left, the lounging Ao Fugui craned his neck to see if the painting was as flat and shapeless as its creator.
It was an ink-wash painting of lotus flowers, exuding a Zen-like tranquility. Objectively, it was quite good. Ao Fugui refrained from mocking and admitted, “Didn’t expect her to be good at painting.”
Yan Zhi was pleased and stored the painting away, telling Ao Fugui, “I thought she was just another unromantic sword cultivator, but it seems she has some appreciation for the arts.”
He then earnestly advised Ao Fugui to give her a chance—she was quite outstanding, and spending time with her might reveal her true virtues.
Yan Zhi was calculating: not only would they get the Five-Colored Divine Feather, but they’d also gain a Sword Immortal’s disciple. A two-for-one deal couldn’t be better.
Ao Fugui wasn’t having it. “My heart belongs to another. You can’t force me.”
Yan Zhi remained unfazed. “The Demon Queen already knows. Your Highness, please prioritize the greater good and abandon this futile obsession.”
Yan Zhi and the Dragon King stood united on Ao Fugui’s marriage—the crown princess must be from a noble family. A demoness was absolutely out of the question!
The teacher and student parted on bad terms, with Yan Zhi dragging Ao Fugui back to the pond to cool off.
Forced back into his true form, Ao Fugui drank half the pond water in frustration. The more he thought about it, the angrier he grew. Being beaten by a sword cultivator was humiliating enough—now he had to marry her? He might as well die.
He stomped over on all fours and roared at Yan Zhi. Ao Fugui’s roar was strategic—Yan Zhi disliked tantrums. To get the prime minister’s attention, one had to hint at earth-shattering secrets.
“Teacher, I think the Taichu Sect is plotting something.”
Ao Fugui began fabricating. “At the auction, the Taichu Sect was aggressive and refused to back down. Why the sudden change of heart, offering the Five-Colored Divine Feather? I’ve heard the Taichu Sect and Taisu Valley have always been close. Now that we’re demanding the feather, they’ve suddenly agreed. In my opinion, they must be colluding with Taisu Valley to annex our dragon clan.”
Yan Zhi had indeed considered the Taichu Sect’s shift in attitude but was biding his time. Now that Ao Fugui brought it up, he was touched, feeling his student had finally started using his brain.
“What do you suggest we do?”
Ao Fugui stomped his claws. “We should turn defense into offense, take down the Taichu Sect, and expose their conspiracy!”
Yan Zhi nodded—the general strategy was set. “And the specifics?”
Here, Ao Fugui struggled. His main goal was to dissuade Yan Zhi from the marriage alliance, but that had little to do with the Five-Colored Divine Feather. When he fell silent, Yan Zhi didn’t prompt him, leaving only the sound of Ao Fugui’s tail slapping the floor.
After a long pause without an answer, Yan Zhi didn’t press. He planned to write to the Dragon King to discuss the matter. For Ao Fugui, he still had patience. “It’s alright. You’re still young, and your insight is commendable. Leave the rest to me. Tomorrow, you’ll accompany me to meet the Sword Immortal’s disciple.”
“Why don’t you go instead?”
Ao Fugui suddenly had an epiphany and argued fervently, “You were the one who started flirting with her first. Today, she gave you a painting—clearly, she’s interested in you. So why shouldn’t you be the one to marry her? There’s not much difference between a crown princess and a prime minister’s wife. If it doesn’t work out, you can divorce her later, and I’ll marry her then.”
Ao Fugui finished with shining eyes, full of righteousness. “Teacher, you’ve served our dragon clan tirelessly and remain unmarried. It’s our clan’s fault for neglecting you. Today, I’m willing to wear the cuckold’s hat and gift you a wife.”
Yan Zhi, “…”
She never should’ve disguised herself as a man!
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage