After Transmigrating as an Immortal Master, I Hold a Group Meeting - Chapter 108

Radiant Valor Peak, Arena C5.

“There’s never been this many people here before,” so muttered the old, muddle-headed steward of Arena C5.

Administration, after all, was an art that existed everywhere, even in the assignment of competition grounds. Those who drew great attention, like Jiang Chennian and Ming Ruyue, were given Arena A. Those with slightly weaker backgrounds or cultivation went to Arena B.

Arena C and D were for weaker disciples; Arena E was used for everyday practice and was closed during the Debate Conference.

So, the fact that the seventeenth disciple, a personal disciple of a peak lord, had been assigned to Arena C said plenty about his ranking.

However, for the disciples of the Smoky Cloud Tower, Arena C was something novel.

Even as she sat down, Lu Mengqing overheard one of her disciples mutter softly, “This place looks kind of run-down…”

As the Tower Master of the Smoky Cloud Tower, Lu Mengqing usually only spectates the matches in Arena A and B. After all, her schedule was limited and she rarely saw anything below that. Discreetly, she brushed the dust from her seat with a wave of spiritual energy.

The old steward clearly hadn’t expected such a crowd, least of all the personal arrival of the Tower Master herself. He had prepared in haste and far too little. So, not only were the important guests neglected, but the outer sect disciples outside were also in disarray.

Still, Lu Mengqing’s attention wasn’t on such trifles.

Her gaze swept the stands, searching for Ning Mingmei and his disciple Pei Shiqi. But both had vanished as if into thin air. Instead, she spotted someone else. “Sect Master Qi?”

“What a coincidence, Tower Master Lu,” said the serene Sect Master with a gentle smile. “Since we’re both here, would you mind if we watched together?”

Lu Mengqing returned the smile. “Of course not.”

The two sat side by side.

“I didn’t expect you to be here too,” said Lu Mengqing.

“How could I miss the first official match of Junior Brother Mingmei’s personal disciple?” replied Sect Master Qi. “I just didn’t expect so many people to come.”

The arena was packed three, even four layers deep. Disciples from every peak had come to watch the commotion.

Lu Mengqing decided to test how effective Ning Mingmei’s publicity trick had been. “Normally, there aren’t this many people?” she asked.

“Not at all,” said Sect Master Qi. “It’s just two disciples at the early Foundation Establishment stage. Usually, such matches attract barely a handful of spectators… What do you think, Chu Kuo?”

Qi Miancheng’s disciple replied, “Exactly. And besides, matches between early- and mid-stage Foundation Establishment cultivators are rarely exciting. Seeing this kind of turnout is quite the spectacle.”

Lu Mengqing smiled faintly again, although this time, there was something hidden in her smile; a trace of concern that shouldn’t have been there.

As Qi Miancheng’s disciple had said, many of the Supreme Clarity Sect’s disciples, drawn here by Jiang Chennian’s earlier victory and Ning Mingmei’s hype, were murmuring after reading the participant list.

“An early-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator against a mid-stage one? What’s the point?”

“And in Arena C, no less… Honestly, anyone half-decent shouldn’t even be here.”

“The one from Misty Peak… It’s hard to say, so I’ll reserve judgment. But that Pei Shiqi is only an early-stage Foundation Establishment and a sword cultivator at that.”

“I heard his Ye Province research report last time was actually pretty good.”

“The other one, from the Smoky Cloud Tower, is mid-stage Foundation Establishment. But if he was assigned here… well, I think we know what that means.”

“Exactly. Two mid-stage Foundation Establishment cultivators can differ worlds apart. Some soar above the clouds, others crawl in the dirt. My guess? This He Yin must be one of the weak ones from the Smoky Cloud Tower with no background, so they dumped him here.”

‘No,’ Lu Mengqing thought. ‘Not so.’

He Yin hadn’t been ignored, punished, and banished to Arena C because of being weak. It was a warning, a punishment, and an exile.

From afar, Lu Mengqing saw the boy at the edge of the crowd; thin, carrying a flute on his back, arms crossed, standing there as if none of this had anything to do with him, with that maddening, sullen, defiant air of someone who walked their own path and couldn’t care less.

“He injured his own sectmates before and never learned his lesson…” murmured one elder of the Smoky Cloud Tower. “I told you, you shouldn’t have let him come to the Supreme Clarity Sect! What if he loses control again and forgets to stop?!”

The elder from Bamboo Island beside her waved a hand lazily. “Why so nervous? It’s not your disciples he’s fighting. Getting hurt a little is normal. Besides, he promised not to use that move.”

“But—!”

“With He Yin here, we’ll definitely win. I heard he’s been preparing for ages, asking every senior who’s fought the Supreme Clarity Sect before. He’s studied all their techniques down to the bone.” The Bamboo Island elder flicked his fingers with satisfaction. “We’ll take back the dignity Gold Island lost this morning.”

Lu Mengqing frowned slightly and exchanged a glance with another elder beside her. “Enough,” she said softly. “He’s been confined for six months; perhaps he truly has repented.”

“If the Supreme Clarity Sect’s disciples underestimate him as just another mid-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator,” her elder replied, “they’re in for a nasty surprise.”

Are they?

Lu Mengqing furrowed her brow, remembering her conversation with Ning Mingmei the day before.

A debut match. It was already an uphill battle and now facing He Yin? Misty Peak’s luck really wasn’t good this time.

Their exchanged looks were brief, subtle, and almost imperceptible. No one should have noticed.

However, sitting near them, Qi Miancheng lowered his gaze, the lid of his teacup tracing the rim with a soft click.

At this moment, He Yin was still only a mid-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator…

Ever since Qi Miancheng awakened his memories of his past life in the Lian family, he’d thought that his only true focus in this lifetime would be on the grand design he was laying now. At most, he might spare a bit of attention for reuniting with a few interesting acquaintances from his previous life.

Yet as his gaze swept over the sea of people and past one of the most capable men who had once served under him, his mind was occupied by just one thought.

‘I wonder how Ning Mingmei plans to handle this? I wonder if he can still… achieve his goal?’

He Yin’s greatest strength was gathering information and using the gap in intelligence to crush his enemies.

Qi Miancheng detested it when a plan slipped out of his control, but even so, he couldn’t help but look forward to seeing what Ning Mingmei would do. His eyes were fixed on the dueling stage, unblinking.

***

A cold wind swept through the grounds. When the first bell rang, the noisy crowd fell into silence. All the disciples held their breath, waiting for the two contestants to step forward.

Tap.

A thin youth, He Yin, walked past the crowd and staggered lazily onto the stage.

He was too thin and his face looked as though only a thin layer of skin stretched over bone, making his dark, hollow eyes seem almost grotesquely large. Although he wore the same white-and-red robes that symbolized the gentle grace of the Smoky Cloud Tower, he somehow made them look gaunt, wild, and obstinately his own. On his back hung a long, pitch-black flute.

“…That one’s from the Smoky Cloud Tower?”

“He looks awful. Nothing like one of theirs.”

Watching from another side, Ming Ruyue pressed his lips together in clear displeasure. His fellow disciple tried carefully to cheer him up. Finally, Ming Ruyue murmured, “He Yin… that name sounds familiar. Where have I heard it before?”

“He…” His companion couldn’t remember either but some vague recollection flickered in his mind before slipping away.

Most disciples had nothing good to say about He Yin’s appearance.

However, in Ning Mingmei’s eyes, the thin youth looked entirely different.

“There’s golden light around him?” Ning Mingmei muttered. “What kind of spell is that?”

The system snorted. [That’s called fortune.]

Ning Mingmei: “Fortune? What’s that supposed to mean?”

…How did he already forget the setting I explained the moment he transmigrated?!

Ning Mingmei: “Oh, that thing that lets me pick which guy’s the protagonist, right?”

The system: […Fine. You remembered, barely.]

“Tsk.”

[The first opponent for Misty Peak just happens to be a Child of Destiny. Ning Mingmei, your luck really sucks,] the system said with schadenfreude. [And here’s the best part; this one isn’t just any Child of Destiny. In the original story, he was Lian Chengyue’s best friend; the scheming, backstabbing kind. So, you can imagine what he’s capable of.]

“What Child of Destiny? Even if Father of Destiny himself came down, this round will still belong to Misty Peak,” Ning Mingmei said coolly. “Besides, my plan’s already in motion.”

The system: ?

All eyes were drawn to the strange youth, He Yin. After a while, someone whispered, “Look at the old guy from the Smoky Cloud Tower’s Bamboo Island. He looks way too confident.”

“Mid-stage Foundation Establishment against early-stage? Winning hardly means anything.”

“No, I heard this He Yin’s a monster,” someone said conspiratorially. “Every match he’s in turns into a spectacle.”

They all turned again to the boy leaning against the pillar. He Yin caught their gazes immediately and smiled.

That single smile silenced everyone.

‘Boring,’ thought the thin youth.

Utterly boring, all of them.

Let’s hope the next match brings some entertainment… Sword cultivators are supposed to be tough, aren’t they? Too bad I promised that elder…

He licked his lips absently.

In those brief moments, the crowd’s tone completely changed.

“…Now that I look again, he actually looks like a real master.”

“Maybe all geniuses just look weird?”

“—I found out!” someone came running, panting. “Two years ago, in the Smoky Cloud Tower, during a spar, He Yin accidentally crippled a senior brother and shattered his organs completely. The senior was early Core Formation stage and He Yin was only mid-stage Foundation Establishment!”

“!!”

“Wha—”

Just then, a cool breeze brushed their faces, carrying a faint scent of plum blossoms. The crowd blinked, momentarily forgetting what they’d been saying.

When they turned their heads…

“Who… who is that elegant man?” someone murmured.

“Not ‘man’ but men.”

A group of white-clad young men approached, swords on their backs, every step poised and graceful, their bearing as noble and cold as drawn blades. They cleaved through the murmur of the crowd like a sword through mist.

Wherever they walked, it was as if celestial music trailed faintly behind them. The crowd that had been gossiping moments ago instinctively parted to make way.

“As they walk, look, there’s snow drifting beside them. What kind of technique is that?”

“Their faces… it’s like moonlight pouring down.”

“Heavens, so cold… so untouchable…” whispered a blushing disciple from the Smoky Cloud Tower. “That’s what a sword cultivator should look like!”

From atop the slope, Ning Mingmei commented dryly, “I made them practice that entrance all night.”

The system: …

Ning Mingmei: “I also had them carry little mirrors to reflect light onto their faces.”

They came with their own spotlights, basically.

The system: …

Ning Mingmei said, “Besides, I surveyed the terrain here. Standing at this angle, on that little slope beside the dueling stage, makes one’s figure look the most well-proportioned. If he stood among the crowd instead, people would immediately notice that the Sixth is wearing height-boosting insoles.”

The system: [Honestly, I have no idea what you people are trying to accomplish anymore.]

Ning Mingmei adjusted his glasses. “Being enigmatic is fashionable. The trendiest, in fact.”

At that moment, even Lu Mengqing held her breath.

No one looked at He Yin anymore as every gaze was fixed on them, like fireflies drawn to a glowing flame.

From among the eighteen white-clad youths, one stepped forward. Under everyone’s eyes, he didn’t move at once; instead, he turned to the senior brother leading the group.

“Senior brother,” the youth said coolly, “this is my first time taking part in the Debate Conference. I’m very nervous. My back feels hot and my heart… it feels as though it’s sinking into an abyss.”

The leading disciple smiled kindly. “Junior brother, don’t be afraid.”

Then…

He flicked his sleeve and out popped a bottle of Sprite.

The white-robed youth took a sip. His eyes brightened. “Senior brother, now my body’s no longer hot, my head doesn’t ache, and even my spirit is soaring.”

“Drink Sprite, cool to the core, spirit takes flight!”

“Drink the Supreme Clarity Sprite and stand undefeated upon the peak!”

The system: …

It really wanted to beat Ning Mingmei to death.

After finishing the Sprite, the youth’s entire body seemed to shimmer with clarity. He leapt onto the dueling platform, but didn’t speak right away. Instead, he rose amid swirling clouds, struck a perfect pose, twirled his sword in a flourish and then…

Looked toward the audience.

“Born of a noble house, wielding the jade sword Xi Qu,” he recited, “a youth upon a white steed with golden bridle. I am Pei Shiqi of Misty Peak.”

The system: …

Who the hell recites poetry as their entrance line?!

Ning Mingmei said mildly, “The Seventeenth’s persona is that of a brilliant, high-spirited youth. Reciting poetry suits him perfectly.”

And clearly, the audience loved this sort of pretentious flair. Cries erupted all around.

“Ahhh! Little Seventeen!”

“So handsome!”

…This screaming?

Ning Mingmei: “I planted a few people in the crowd to start it.”

The power of social contagion.

The system finally lost patience and zapped Ning Mingmei to the ground.

[The duel’s about skill, not style!] it shouted. [Once it starts, let’s see how your disciples keep up the act!]

‘…The Supreme Clarity Sect really knows how to perform,’ thought He Yin.

He wondered what it would feel like to utterly destroy such people on their grand stage.

Across the ring, He Yin watched the elegant seventeenth disciple and suddenly smiled. “I am He Yin.” That smile was too bright, so bright it only made him seem more dangerous.

The bell rang thrice. The match officially began.

The dueling stage gleamed like a chessboard. The white-clad sword cultivator and the flute-bearing musician stood at opposite ends.

An elder from the Smoky Cloud Tower murmured, “I don’t know why, but He Yin looks serious now.”

A chill of unease prickled through Lu Mengqing’s chest. As she frowned, He Yin’s voice echoed from the stage.

“You’re an early-stage Foundation Establishment, while I’m mid-stage. There’s a gap between us and winning wouldn’t be honorable. So, I’ll let you strike first. How about that?”

“Wow…”

“This musician from the Smoky Cloud Tower looks gloomy, but he’s actually pretty decent!”

Ignoring the murmurs, He Yin’s eyes stayed fixed on the sword cultivator before him.

The other asked, “Is that… really fine?”

He Yin: “It’s fine.”

‘Let’s see what your techniques are really worth,’ he thought.

The other said, “Then… I’ll begin?”

He Yin: “Go ahead.”

Hands clasped behind his back, He Yin watched as the other drew his sword.

The cultivator raised the blade beside his face; He Yin studied the motion, analyzing the intent behind it. Finally, he found the closest match in his internal database.

“Azure Dragon Emerges from the Water!”

So soon, going straight for a killing move?

He Yin turned his palm, already preparing a counter. According to his calculations, the success rate was at least ninety percent.

Until he heard the youth’s voice.

“Scatter,” Pei Shiqi’s eyes closed. “Willows of Zhangtai!”

Author’s Note:

Scatter! Willows of Zhangtai!
Roar! Immortal by the River!

He Yin: “Do all you people from the Supreme Clarity Sect have to chant poetry before every sword strike?!”