Starting Cultivation During a Trip

Evening, Jiangnan Province Daoist Alliance Headquarters.

President’s office.

The furnace glowed with crimson heat, brewing fresh tea, making a soft ”gudu, gudu” bubbling sound; wisps of steam rose and dispersed like a tuft of white smoke.

”Early winter in Jiangnan has a unique flavor, Elder Lou. Your land and water really do nurture people.”

On the sofa, a woman spoke softly. Her hair was tied in a ponytail; she wore a leather jacket and knee-high boots. Striking and valiant, a luminous beauty graced her gaze. Every gesture brimmed with elegance befitting the elite.

”Qinghuan, a few years without seeing you, and now you’ve become an imperial envoy. Truly, the younger generation is fearsome.”

Lou Hechuan looked at the woman before him and poured a cup of tea, a meaningful look flickering in his clouded eyes.

”Elder Lou, you watched me grow up—how can you make fun of me?”

Meng Qinghuan laughed. She picked up her teacup, gazing at the freshly boiled tea. Her vermilion lips parted, her tongue delicately curled, and she actually drank the scalding brew straight down, letting it slide into her stomach without so much as flushing or losing her breath.

”Phoenix Tail Peak tea from Maoshan—it’s truly wonderful.”

Meng Qinghuan’s long legs crossed elegantly as she sat and lifted her luminous gaze, directing it to the large screen on the wall, where a point of light moved across the miniature map of Yujing City.

”Where is Fang Changle heading?”

”You still think there’s something wrong with him?” Lou Hechuan asked, voice low and grave.

”Elder Lou, whether Fang Changle has issues isn’t important. What matters is giving Maoshan an explanation. Stability in the grand scheme transcends all else.” Meng Qinghuan chuckled lightly.

”That’s the general policy, and I suspect you understand it better than I.”

”No wonder you’ve gone into the Divine Power Association. You’re far more seasoned than before.” Lou Hechuan’s words were laced with implication.

The Divine Power Association—a subordinate yet independent organization under the Daoist Alliance Headquarters—only those who had awakened Daoist Divine Techniques were qualified to enter.

These days, the President of the Divine Power Association was the same as the President of the Daoist Alliance Headquarters: Jiang Wansui. As for the vice president—it was Chu Chaoran of Zhenwu Mountain.

Those who could enter the Divine Power Association were no longer ordinary cultivators; they were astonishing talents, one in a million.

This is why Meng Qinghuan’s status was so exceptional—not only did she represent the Daoist Alliance Headquarters, but behind her was also the Divine Power Association.

”Elder Lou, the one with Fang Changle… is it that Zhang Fan?”

Meng Qinghuan stared at the screen and abruptly broke the silence.

”That’s right.” Lou Hechuan nodded, then asked, ”What, you’re interested in him too?”

”The President asked me to keep an eye on him,” Meng Qinghuan replied calmly.

”Jiang Wansui!?” Lou Hechuan raised his brows.

Long Live the Mountains and Rivers—none other than the peerless master of White Crane Temple and current President of the Daoist Alliance. He was known as half the backbone of the Daoist Sect.

Among their generation, apart from Chu Chaoran, he was the brightest star by far.

”Why would someone like him pay attention to a seemingly inconspicuous junior?” Lou Hechuan’s voice grew hushed.

Someone like Jiang Wansui stood at the pinnacle—he rarely spared a glance for those below. Even the most dazzling new blood struggled to catch his eye.

”He’s hardly an inconspicuous junior… He’s the disciple of Transcendent Zhenren,” Meng Qinghuan replied coolly.

Lou Hechuan paused in thought. He knew that Jiang Wansui had been proud his whole life, always leading the way. If there were anyone who could draw his attention, it was probably his lifelong rival, Chu Chaoran.

”Zhenwu Mountain never officially declared Zhang Fan as Transcendent Zhenren’s disciple,” Lou Hechuan said quietly.

”Did you ask about it, Elder Lou?” Meng Qinghuan asked directly.

”Ask who? Chu Chaoran?” Lou Hechuan let out a helpless laugh.

In this world, one could count on one hand the people who had the right and guts to question Chu Chaoran.

Even he had only gotten the news about Zhang Fan through hints from Bai Buran and old friends at Zhenwu Mountain.

Although he hadn’t received confirmation from Chu Chaoran himself, Zhenwu Mountain’s attitude clearly showed that Transcendent Zhenren was unusually fond of this youngster and had exceptionally accepted him as a closed-door disciple.

”Closed-door disciple… Xia Weisheng already closed the door once; how can there be another?” Meng Qinghuan muttered softly.

In the Daoist Sect’s apprenticeship, the chief disciple and the closed-door disciple were always the most special.

Xia Weisheng was taken in and raised by Zhenwu Mountain since childhood—her origins most unusual—and made the closed-door disciple of Chu Chaoran. That occasion was grand indeed; even Jiang Wansui sent people to Zhenwu Mountain to offer congratulations.

Now, unexpectedly, another closed-door disciple had appeared—naturally, this drew attention.

At the moment, Zhang Fan’s name was inconspicuous within the Daoist Alliance, known only to a select few with access, yet it had caught Jiang Wansui’s eye.

”Elder Lou, have you investigated Zhang Fan’s background?” Meng Qinghuan shifted the topic abruptly.

”I have. It’s spotless.” Lou Hechuan’s tone was indifferent.

The first time he met Zhang Fan, he looked into his background—three generations up, everything was perfectly clean without a single flaw.

”In that case, he really does have a problem.” Meng Qinghuan’s beautiful eyes narrowed to a line.

If there’s truly nothing—spotless, without a single issue—why would a living Zhenren take notice, break precedent, and insist on accepting him as disciple?

No issue—now that’s the biggest issue!

”Zhang Fan…”

Meng Qinghuan turned over the name in her mouth. Suddenly, her brow twitched as she saw on the LCD screen the moving light source stopping in front of a building marked out on the map.

”They’re at the black market?” Meng Qinghuan said flatly.

...

Urban village, abandoned building.

The black market.

”This is the place where I’ve had the most contact with people recently.”

Zhang Fan led Fang Changle into the building. Fang Changle, hands in his pockets, couldn’t help but complain, ”Can’t you pick somewhere less crowded?”