Chapter 8

After leaving Li Yunzhan, Li Mengze headed straight for the Hall of Ten Thousand Laws. This time, the person on duty was not the jovial one from before, whose laughter could rival that of a Buddha. It made her wonder how the Hall of Ten Thousand Laws selected its attendants—shouldn’t all those in charge of reception be warm and welcoming?

No wonder Li Mengze found it odd; not only did her host lack a smile, his face was etched with worry and sorrow. In physiognomy, drooping brows indicate not just distress, but also cowardice and slyness. Eyes that droop at the corners betray a crooked heart, for the mind is reflected in the eyes. While sad brows may mark suffering, eyes with corners that sink expose a warped disposition. The lips, too, reflect one’s habitual expression: frequent smiles lift the corners, frequent tears drag them down. Over time, this forms a fickle temperament, prone to odd moods and troubling others. Deep lines around the mouth suggest a sanctimonious air—a righteous façade masking inner filth, accompanied by unchecked arrogance and a tendency toward moral decline. Every feature spoke of misery; such looks are rare even among ordinary folk, let alone cultivators, who typically have refined features and ethereal bearing. The occasional sly face is the exception.

Yet, for someone so marked by misfortune to possess spiritual roots was truly remarkable. In Li Mengze’s view, being assigned to duties in the Hall of Ten Thousand Laws was far preferable to field missions. At least within the sect, the odds of falling were lower.

Li Mengze didn’t put much stock in destiny, but she valued physiognomy highly. To her, one’s appearance revealed their temperament. Those who are optimistic and fond of laughter have lifted brows and eyes, which cheer others simply by being seen. Such people may not be universally charming, but at the very least, their gentle disposition keeps them from making enemies, reducing their risk of calamity in the cultivation world. Harmony breeds prosperity.

Someone like this attendant, with angry brows and eyes, could easily provoke others into dealing with him harshly simply out of dislike.

She only observed, never confronting someone directly. She wouldn’t go up and say, “Hey, friend, your face makes people want to punch you.” If she did, the recipient would no doubt be replaced after a beating.

Better, then, to mind her own business.

Wang Pin sat idly watching the passing cultivators, when suddenly a small child of five or six in the garb of a direct disciple approached him. Despite his reluctance, he stood up obediently.

“What is it that this junior sister seeks?” he asked, bending low and acting humble, though his words betrayed resentment.

Why should a fourth-level Qi Refining disciple be taken as a true disciple by a Nascent Soul patriarch, while he, already fifty, lingered at the eighth level of Qi Refining? If he failed to break through soon, he’d be branded a failure and sent to guard mundane places where spiritual energy was thin, forced to wait out his lifespan. It wasn’t fair.

It was just because she had a privileged background. He believed that, once he encountered great fortune, these so-called true disciples would have to kneel before him.

Perhaps he could already see that scene unfolding in his mind, and Wang Pin felt a surge of pride, struggling to suppress it. Fortunately, he hadn’t forgotten his current duties.

He found several varieties of spiritual rice seeds and the tools Li Mengze requested.

As Li Mengze departed, she could still feel the burning gaze from behind, as if it could pierce through her clothes. She wondered what he had imagined, to go from dejection to pride in such a short span. With a mind like his, he was a rare talent indeed.

Such blatant hostility, yet he had survived so long in the cultivation world, where life is cheap—only in a great sect like Kunlun, where disciples are forbidden from harming each other, could someone like him remain safe.

Returning to her own quarters, Li Mengze didn’t immediately enter her space. Her courtyard had a small spiritual field—not large, but with spiritual energy superior to most. It was suitable for cultivating advanced spiritual plants, like Grade Five Helan Grass and Thousand-Year Insects.

These plants grew slowly, but the cultivation world had already developed spiritual solutions that accelerated their growth. Though the medicinal properties diminished, many merchants still bought them, since not everyone in the cultivation world was wealthy; many rogue cultivators favored lower-grade pills.

Li Yunzhan had already prepared seeds for these higher-grade spiritual plants, and Li Mengze selected the hardier ones for her courtyard field, needing only to remember to water them.

With a small medicinal hoe, she quickly dug holes and dropped in two seeds at a time. A short cultivation session and the patch was planted. She used the Rain Technique to moisten the earth; it didn’t require much water—just enough to keep the surface damp.

Long ago, array masters had devised a spirit-gathering array suitable for spiritual plants, but it was later deemed to compete with cultivators for spiritual energy and gradually fell out of use. Now, only great clans or sects with sixth-grade alchemists maintained a few, mainly to speed up maturation.

Li Mengze was interested, but couldn’t use one herself. Her cultivation chamber already had a medium-sized spirit-gathering array, drawing energy from Cangjian Peak. Installing a plant-specific array would only draw unwanted attention.

At five years old, after less than a year of cultivation, Li Mengze had reached the fourth level of Qi Refining—a prodigy in Kunlun Sect. Fortunately, she was calm and patient, rarely venturing out, but even so, she couldn’t escape curious glances.

Each peak in Kunlun had a Dao Discussion Summit, where Golden Core cultivators lectured annually. When idle, these summits served as training grounds for sword practice.

Li Mengze knew that seclusion was never wise, so after planting her space’s garden, she began trekking up the mountain each day on her short legs.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to use a flying artifact; her uncle’s chief disciple, Bai Li Mu, had warned her: no flying below Golden Core level at the summit. If you broke the rule, someone would show you what it meant to be slapped to death.

Thus, Li Mengze experienced firsthand what it meant to be a focal point. Wherever she went, people stared. Though their gaze held no malice, it was uncomfortable. Luckily, after a month, the attention waned, and perhaps, inspired by her presence, the Kunlun elders noticed their disciples were more diligent than ever.

Time passed quickly. Li Mengze occasionally saw her adoptive parents—sometimes brought home by Li Yunzhan, sometimes visited by Li Yunran and his wife, unable to resist missing their daughter.

Li Mengze’s cultivation soared over these years. Whenever her senior brothers and sisters saw their little junior, they sincerely thanked their master for accepting them early. Only after they had all formed their Golden Cores did this monstrous little junior appear. Had she come earlier, forcing them, centuries old, to call a teenage girl “senior sister,” it would surely have driven them to madness.

When Li Mengze reached fourteen, she received a message from her father. Its gist was: “Your mother and I haven’t secluded ourselves in a long time because of you. Now, your mother says she doesn’t want a daughter whose cultivation surpasses her own. So you won’t see us for the next few years—I’ll be accompanying your mother in seclusion. As for you, go play with your uncle.”

Only then did Li Mengze realize she was already at the mid-stage of Foundation Establishment. Starting cultivation at five, in nine years she not only succeeded in Foundation Establishment but broke through to the middle stage—all without relying on Foundation Establishment Pills. Such achievement marked the rise of a genius in any sect.

She also realized why she hadn’t seen her senior brothers or sisters lately. She remembered, before age ten, they frequently checked on her, making sure she had everything and was well fed, never forgetting her when something fun came up. Now, whenever she emerged from seclusion, she met them briefly before they retreated again—was this their silent protest?

Even her sect master uncle, over the years, seldom let her meet guests during ceremonies. After all, she was a true disciple, and her reputation preceded her. Now, thinking back, she realized her progress was truly extraordinary.

But it wasn’t her fault. Her space had been nearly complete for three years, its spiritual energy, though not comparable to a great sect like Kunlun that could sustain millions, was abundant enough for her alone, thanks to the nurturing of countless spiritual plants.

Moreover, a month in her space equaled only a day outside, and now she could adjust it to a year for every day. Even a fool, given such conditions, should reach Foundation Establishment. She swore to the heavens, she was certainly no fool.

For nine years, she never idled. Besides cultivation, she diligently improved her pill-making skills. Previously, her youth and height made her reluctant to sell her pills openly. Now, though she still couldn’t make pills above Grade Four, her success rate for lower grades was above eighty percent. Pills like Spirit Replenishing, Blood Replenishing, Barrier Breaking, Qi Replenishing, Spirit Gathering, and Energy Gathering were no longer counted by the bottle. Last time, she had the Hall of Ten Thousand Laws’ Lü Fang deliver hundreds of large wine jars, which now sat in her space.

Let anyone dare provoke her—she’d drown them in pills. She had worried about how long it would take to sell all these pills, and that flooding the market would lower prices, but it turned out she’d caught a perfect opportunity to make a fortune.