Chapter 13: The Result of Dual Cultivation is Worse Than a Pig?

Dinner at Wuya Hall was a battlefield.

Xiao Yifeng’s chopsticks moved as a blur, a whirlwind of steel and wood. He maintained perfect table etiquette, yet the speed at which he devoured the food was nothing short of terrifying. He was like a starving wolf, frantically swallowing dishes rich in the Spiritual Qi of heaven and earth.

After a day of grueling physical and mental exertion, his body was a hollow vessel screaming to be filled.

Su Miaoqing glanced at him, her competitive streak flaring. Unwilling to fall behind, her own chopsticks accelerated, though her movements remained frustratingly elegant.

“Slow down, both of you,” Lin Ziyun admonished, a worried frown creasing her brow. “Be careful. If you ingest too much Spiritual Qi at once, your bodies won’t be able to digest it.”

At the head of the table, Sect Leader Su Qianyi watched the scene with visible confusion. He stared at the two children as if they were alien creatures.

Lin Ziyun smiled and sent him a private voice transmission. “I spoke with Tiange and Lingxu today. Apparently, Yifeng’s presence has lit a fire under Qing’er. Because Yifeng has such high comprehension and studies so diligently, Qing’er has been stimulated to match him. She’s finally taking her lessons seriously.”

Hearing this, Su Qianyi’s expression softened. He looked at Xiao Yifeng again, and for the first time, the boy didn’t seem quite so much of an eyesore.

At least the kid has his uses, he mused.

That evening, back in his room, a maidservant arrived bearing a gift from Lin Ziyun: a stick of High-Grade Calming Incense.

Xiao Yifeng accepted it with a bow, asking the maid to convey his gratitude to his Master’s Wife. He knew exactly what this was. Calming Incense was a precious resource, beneficial not just for novices but even for high-level cultivators.

The piece Lin Ziyun had sent was generous—a thick block that would last him quite some time.

Even the maid, Little Yue, couldn’t help but gasp in amazement. Her estimation of Xiao Yifeng rose another notch. Just how talented is he? To receive such special treatment from the Mistress…

If she knew that Xiao Yifeng was actually a “Ding-Lower” grade talent—possibly even worse than her own—one could only wonder what expression she would make.

Dragging his exhausted, overstuffed body to the third floor, Xiao Yifeng lit the incense. The fragrant smoke curled into the air, instantly clearing his mind. He didn’t dare waste a second. He sat cross-legged and began to refine the chaotic Spiritual Qi churning within his gut.

Thus, Xiao Yifeng’s first day in the Wentian Sect came to a close.

He knew that the days ahead would not be easy. In his past life, he had often wondered why cultivation had to be so painful.

Mortals looked up at immortals and imagined a life of ease and floating on clouds. But only those who walked the path knew the truth: it was a road of tedious, bone-grinding agony.

Only by enduring the utmost hardship can one rise above others, Xiao Yifeng thought. To gain, one must pay.

He was acutely aware that his current luxury was borrowed. He was riding on Su Miaoqing’s coattails.

In other halls, True Disciples were numerous. They fought for scraps of attention, usually attending mass lectures given by Senior Brothers. One-on-one private tutoring from Elders? Unheard of.

And that was for True Disciples. The lives of Ordinary Disciples and Miscellaneous Duty Disciples were far bleaker.

Ordinary Disciples were drowning in daily sect tasks. Their lessons were delivered by bored Deacons or Elders who would recite the scriptures and leave immediately. Questions were a luxury; comprehension was up to fate.

Miscellaneous Duty Disciples were the wretched of the earth. Buried under a mountain of chores, they were taught by Ordinary Disciples or low-level stewards. If they wanted access to higher-level knowledge, they had to pay for it with Sect Points—points earned by breaking their backs doing manual labor.

The Wentian Sect was a behemoth that had existed for millennia. It had long ago calcified into a rigid hierarchy. It was a cold machine. Everyone within it, from the lowest servant to the highest Elder, was just another struggling soul among the sentient beings, fighting to move forward one inch at a time.

For the next three months, Xiao Yifeng settled into a rhythm.

Day after day, rain or shine, he attended his lessons and cultivated. Having Su Miaoqing as a companion made the monotony bearable. In his spare time, he locked himself away and practiced bitter cultivation, mirroring the solitary life of his previous incarnation.

But there was a problem.

The Nine Scrolls of Asking Heaven (Daoist) and the True Explanation of Stars (Demonic) were diametrically opposed techniques. Although the Formless Heart Sutra (Buddhist) acted as a bridge to mediate between them, merging the Three Teachings was a task of titanic difficulty.

These were the foundational treasures of three supreme sects. Each was a peerless art in its own right. Trying to cultivate all three simultaneously in a body with “Ding-Lower” aptitude was madness.

If a normal cultivator’s foundation was like building a three-story wooden house, Xiao Yifeng’s attempt to merge the three philosophies was like constructing a skyscraper that pierced the clouds. The foundation required was terrifyingly deep and broad.

Consequently, his progress was glacial.

Xiao Yifeng was anxious, but he knew panic would only breed errors. He could only grit his teeth and grind forward.

Besides cultivation, his other full-time job was managing Su Miaoqing.

Having lived two lives and experienced the crushing weight of life and death—and his tangled love-hate history with Liu Hanyan—he no longer looked at Su Miaoqing with the puppy love of his youth. That infatuation had long since turned to ash.

First love is fleeting. Looking back, one smiles at the foolishness of youth, but the spark is gone.

Now, he viewed Su Miaoqing as a bratty little sister. Unfortunately, this “little sister” was hell-bent on asserting her dominance. She put on a full “Senior Sister” air in public, ordering him around, while playing pranks and setting tripwires for him in private.

Fortunately, Xiao Yifeng was an old soul. He knew when to bend. He submitted passively to her adversity, playing the role of the hapless, obedient junior. He gave her plenty of “face,” coaxing her ego until she beamed like a sunflower.

It worked. Su Miaoqing began to walk with her chin held high, looking at him with the smug satisfaction of a queen viewing her loyal subject.

She ordered him around like a lackey, but if anyone else tried to bully him, she would explode. She had inherited her father’s intense protectiveness. When defending “her” junior brother, she would bare her fangs and brandish her claws, showing a ferocity that reminded everyone of her mother.

Lin Ziyun tried to scold her, but it was useless. After checking privately with Xiao Yifeng and seeing that he didn’t mind—and actually seemed quite protective of the girl—she sighed and let them be.

However, the issue of his cultivation could not be hidden forever.

Xiao Yifeng was worried. He had his own plans for the future, deadlines he needed to meet, yet he hadn’t even stabilized the First Layer of Qi Refining.

He was also terrified of disappointing Su Qianyi.

Three months later, his fears materialized.

Su Qianyi, in a rare mood of paternal interest, decided to inspect Xiao Yifeng’s progress. He asked a few questions, tested the boy’s spiritual pressure, and nearly died of anger on the spot.

In Su Qianyi’s eyes, Xiao Yifeng’s aptitude wasn’t just bad; it was a marvel of incompetence.

Three full months of elite training. Endless resources. And he hadn’t even reached the First Layer of Qi Refining? He could barely guide Qi into his body, let alone circulate it for a full cycle.

Su Qianyi’s face turned purple. He pointed a trembling finger at Xiao Yifeng.

“If I fed these heavenly treasures to a pig, even the pig would have become a Golden Core expert by now!”

Su Qianyi flicked his sleeves in disgust and stormed out, shaking his head. Nothing is more sorrowful than a heart that has given up hope. Just like in the previous life, he washed his hands of this disciple.

Xiao Yifeng opened his mouth to explain, but closed it again. What could he say? Master, I’m cultivating three supreme arts at once?

He estimated he needed another two or three months to breach the First Layer. But saying “I need six months to do what others do in three” would only sound like an excuse.

Most disciples practicing the Nine Scrolls reached the First Layer in three months easily. Xiao Yifeng needed six.

News of the disastrous inspection spread. Fellow disciples came to comfort him. Even Su Miaoqing offered some words—which sounded like sarcastic insults but were actually her twisted way of cheering him up. Her tsundere clumsiness left Xiao Yifeng not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

From that day on, Su Qianyi ignored him completely.

Yet, despite his snail-like progress, Senior Brother Xiang Tiange never lost patience. He continued to explain concepts tirelessly, offering extra tutoring sessions late into the night. Xiao Yifeng was deeply moved.

He almost blurted out, Senior Brother, I understand the theory perfectly! It’s just that we aren’t practicing the same manual!

Lin Ziyun was equally supportive. She kept sending supplies to his courtyard and used class time to gently guide him, offering encouragement and specialized tips for those with “sturdy foundations.”

However, the secret of his poor talent leaked out. Soon, the entire Wuya Hall—and even the servants—knew about the True Disciple who couldn’t reach Level 1 in three months.

Rumors began to swirl.

“Have you heard? He’s a Ding-Lower talent.”

“How did trash like that become a True Disciple?”

“I heard he’s Sect Leader Su’s illegitimate son.”

“No, no, the Guanghan Fairy recommended him. Maybe he’s her illegitimate child!”

The rumors became increasingly absurd. Some claimed he was Lin Ziyun’s secret son, others pointed fingers at Liu Hanyan.

Finally, the Third Senior Brother had enough. acting with thunderous brutality, he caught several Ordinary Disciples spreading these lies out of jealousy. He made an example of them—killing the chicken to warn the monkeys—by abolishing their cultivation and banishing them to the Outer Sect.

He issued a gag order, and the overt gossip ceased. But the dark undercurrents of mockery continued to flow.

When Xiao Yifeng heard the rumor that he was Liu Hanyan’s illegitimate son, he was rendered speechless.

Illegitimate son? She is my wife! My wife! Why are you demoting my seniority?!

His feelings toward Liu Hanyan were a tangled mess.

They had made a deal. She was supposed to take him into Feixue Hall. Instead, she had broken her promise, burned the bridge after crossing, and dumped him here to rot.

If his luck hadn’t been heaven-defying, leading to his acceptance by Su Qianyi, he would be scrubbing toilets as a Miscellaneous Duty Disciple right now.

He was still curious about what exactly happened on the platform that day. He had asked Xiang Tiange, but the Senior Brother had hemmed and hawed, unwilling to tell him the brutal truth: that every Hall Master had rejected him for being trash.

So, Xiao Yifeng remained in the dark about Liu Hanyan’s true role in his placement.

He felt a complex mix of emotions. On one hand, she was the woman he had once lived and died for, the wife who had never abandoned him in his past life. On the other hand, this Liu Hanyan didn’t know him. She was the icy, untouchable Fairy who had discarded him like baggage.

He knew that suddenly claiming to be her husband would be perceived as insanity. But he was human, not a saint. He had selfish desires.