Chapter 163: That Idiot

“Golden Geng Glazed Formation, rise!”

At Li Meng’s command, the talismans buried in the earth erupted. Blinding golden radiance shot skyward, weaving together into a translucent, impenetrable dome that enveloped the two Enlightenment Platforms.

“Senior Brothers, Senior Sisters, enter the formation! Now!”

The Joyous Union Sect disciples, momentarily stunned by the sudden deployment, snapped to reality. They rode the wind, diving through the golden barrier before it fully solidified.

Inside the dome, Li Meng hovered in the air, his expression indifferent. He slapped the Sword Nurturing Gourd at his waist.

“Go.”

The gourd hummed, and the air suddenly grew heavy with pure spiritual energy.

Five distinct torrents of Spirit Stones poured out like waterfalls. They didn’t trickle; they flooded. The sparkling gems cascaded through the air, dividing into streams that rushed toward the five Formation Cores embedded in the ground.

Ten thousand. Fifty thousand. One hundred thousand.

Within seconds, mountains of Spirit Stones piled up at the base of the barrier, fueling the array with terrifying extravagance.

Outside the barrier, the surrounding cultivators froze. Their eyes bulged, nearly popping out of their sockets.

“Is… is this guy the illegitimate son of the Sect Leader?”

“Sect Leader? No way. With that kind of wealth, he must be the bastard child of a Nascent Soul Ancestor!”

“Who exactly is he?”

“I’ve never heard of such a figure in the Joyous Union Sect.”

“He looks older. His cultivation is only early Foundation Establishment… his aptitude must be trash. But his wallet… gods above.”

The display of opulence struck a heavy blow to the crowd’s psyche.

They were rogue cultivators and outer disciples who would risk life and limb—who would stab their best friend in the back—for a few hundred Spirit Stones.

Yet here was a man using a literal fortune just to keep a formation running for a few hours.

How could they not feel heartache? How could they not be consumed by green-eyed jealousy?

Inside the golden dome, the noise of the outside world was cut off. Li Meng sat cross-legged in the air, his hands resting on his knees.

“Senior Sister, Fellow Daoist Lu. Focus on your enlightenment. I will protect your path.”

His voice was calm, carrying a weight of absolute security.

On the platform below, Li Xi’s gaze grew complicated as she looked up at his back.

Would someone really give away a Fated Chance for enlightenment?

In the cultivation world, disciples of the same sect would often slaughter each other for a scrap of such opportunity. Yet Junior Brother Li had stepped down without hesitation, handing the spot to her.

Li Xi closed her eyes, her heart trembling.

I cannot waste his sacrifice. I must comprehend something tonight.

[System: +30 Affection] [System: +150 Sub-profession Experience]

Li Meng glanced down. Senior Sister Li’s Affection had already climbed to 70.

He shifted his gaze to the adjacent platform.

[System: +80 Affection] [System: +400 Sub-profession Experience]

Li Meng raised an eyebrow.

Interesting.

Lu Zimo, the Ice Fairy whose heart was supposedly made of stone, had barely reacted when he saved her life earlier. Yet now, simply by playing the role of a selfless guardian, her affection had skyrocketed.

“A woman’s heart is truly a needle in the ocean,” Li Meng mused internally, a faint, cynical smile touching his lips.

He knew the reality. He was likely just a passerby in Lu Zimo’s long journey toward immortality. But tonight, he had etched his name into her memory.

If he could become an unforgettable existence in her heart, perhaps one day, they wouldn’t just be passersby. They might walk the Great Dao together.

Meanwhile, on a distant mountain ridge overlooking the valley.

CRACK.

Wen Huanhuan, sitting on a meditation cushion, crushed the porcelain tea cup in her hand to dust.

“That idiot!”

Her chest heaved, and rage blazed in her eyes.

“Does that brat not know he has a trash Five Spirit Roots physique? This was his one chance to gain insight into the Dao, and he just gave it away? To act like some noble saint?”

In a fit of pique, Wen Huanhuan swept her sleeve across the stone table. The expensive tea set went flying, tumbling over the cliff edge and vanishing into the abyss below.

Opposite her, Han Li sighed deeply.

“Junior Sister, why is your temper getting worse by the day?”

“Senior Brother, I want wine!”

Han Li didn’t look up. “None left. We finished it.”

Wen Huanhuan glared at him, her eyes sharp enough to cut glass. “Liar. I saw you stash a jar.”

Han Li sighed again, defeated. He waved his sleeve, producing a sealed jar of century-old spirit wine.

Wen Huanhuan snatched it from the air. Her eyes gleamed with a feral light as she ripped off the seal. She didn’t pour it into a cup; she hoisted the jar and guzzled it down, liquor spilling down her chin and soaking her collar.

Gulp, gulp, gulp.

Han Li watched with visible heartache. “What a waste. Giving fine wine to you is like feeding peonies to a cow. Can you even taste the notes?”

He glanced nervously at the sky.

“Junior Sister, slow down. The two Martial Uncles are watching from the clouds.”

Wen Huanhuan slammed the empty jar onto the table, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She let out a satisfied breath.

“None of my damn business!”

Han Li’s mouth twitched at the crudeness. He decided it was safer to stay silent.

High above, in the cloud layer a thousand zhang from the ground.

A small, dense cloud had been shaped into a tea table. Two figures sat opposite each other, their presences vast and ethereal, like immortals observing the mortal realm.

The man wore green robes, his long hair bound in a jade crown. His face was that of a middle-aged scholar—cold, stern, and mature. His aura was completely restrained, perfectly natural, as if he were merely a part of the wind and sky.

Opposite him sat a woman in a flowing white dress.

She was a vision of indulgence. Her figure was voluptuous, with curves that promised sin—a slender waist flaring into wide, fertile hips. Her hair was adorned with intricate ornaments that chimed softly in the wind.

Her face was flawless white jade, wearing a perpetual, lazy smile.

It was a smile that could topple cities. Charming, noble, and terrifying.

She glanced down at the golden dome in the valley below.

“Senior Brother, what is your verdict?”

The man sipped his tea, his eyes calm.

“Aptitude: Extremely poor. Temperament: Passable. Character: Excellent.” He paused. “But in the Dao of Alchemy, Talismans, Formations, and Artifacts… calling him ‘astonishingly talented’ would be an understatement. He is a monster.”

The woman smiled gently, her slender fingers toying with her porcelain cup.

“So, he is worth our attention?”

The man set down his cup. “This bet… can be placed.”

The woman looked toward the distant horizon, a trace of uncharacteristic worry flitting across her brows.

Time slipped away. The night deepened.

Down in Yellow Wind Valley, the polite veneer of the cultivation world had completely shattered.

Dozens of sects, hundreds of cultivators, all fighting over the remaining five Enlightenment Platforms.

“If my Flowing Cloud Sect can’t have one, your Golden Glow Mountain won’t either!”

“A Demonic Sect dares to covet the Dao? You have a death wish!”

“Righteous Sects! Rally to me! Exterminate the devils first!”

Chaos reigned.

Around the Enlightenment Stele, spells flew like fireworks. Righteous sects fought demonic sects. Righteous sects backstabbed other righteous sects.

Blood stained the ancient stone floor. Foundation Establishment cultivators—usually regarded as experts in the mortal world—were perishing by the minute.

On the outskirts, rogue cultivators watched the spectacle with cynical glee.

“Hahaha! Look at them! Is this the ‘unity’ of the Righteous Path? It’s just dogs biting dogs!”

“Don’t be so harsh. Look, when the Demonic cultivators push forward, the Righteous hypocrites actually work together.”

“And then they stab each other the moment the devil is dead.”

“At this rate, the Joyous Union Sect is the only winner tonight.”

With only seven platforms available and the Joyous Union Sect locking down two, the competition for the remaining five was a meat grinder. The logic was simple: If I can’t have it, my enemy can’t either.

While the valley outside boiled with violence, the interior of the Golden Geng Glazed Formation remained a sanctuary of silence.

Li Xi and Lu Zimo were deep in meditation, their brows furrowed as they sought communion with the Stele.

Below them, the Joyous Union Sect disciples sat in lotus positions, frantically recovering their Qi. The failed attempt to mount the platforms had damaged their foundations; without rest, their cultivation realms would permanently regress.

Above them all, Li Meng floated in the center of the golden dome.

He sat with his eyes closed, regulating his breathing while his mind controlled the array. Every few seconds, a stray spell or a deflected Magical Artifact would slam into the golden barrier.

Boom.

The barrier rippled, but held firm, fueled by the mountain of Spirit Stones burning away at Li Meng’s feet.