The Oldest Disciple: Farming Intimacy to Become Immortal

“Senior Brother, I… I want to beat him to death!”

High in the clouds, Wen Huanhuan stomped her foot in mid-air, pointing a trembling finger in the direction Li Meng and his new companions had vanished.

Han Li’s aura instantly shifted. The air around him dropped to freezing, radiating a terrifying, colorless killing intent.

“Understood. I will kill him immediately.”

Without giving his Junior Sister a moment to process, Han Li transformed into a streak of escape light and shot toward the horizon like a released arrow.

Wen Huanhuan froze. Her jaw dropped.

“Senior Brother! You… get back here!”

The streak of light paused, performed a sharp U-turn, and zipped back in an instant.

“I have returned.” Han Li hovered before her, his face a mask of calm obedience.

Wen Huanhuan rolled her eyes so hard they almost stuck that way.

“Senior Brother, are you deaf? Can’t you tell I was just venting?”

Han Li stared at her, expressionless.

Wen Huanhuan rubbed her temples, feeling a migraine coming on. She knew her Senior Brother’s personality all too well. He was a weapon—efficient, deadly, and completely literal-minded.

What if she misspoke one day?

That old thing Li Meng knew exactly how to push her buttons. She was bound to say something rash eventually.

“Listen to me,” she said, exasperated. “In the future, if I say I want to kill Martial Nephew Li… don’t take it seriously. He… he isn’t actually that bad. My grudge is with Senior Sister, not him.”

Han Li watched his Junior Sister flail between anger, worry, and jealousy. A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Very well. Senior Brother understands.”

Wen Huanhuan huffed and scanned the surrounding sky.

“That old… Martial Nephew Li is Senior Sister’s only disciple. She must be nearby watching him. Senior Brother, can you sense where she is?”

She paused. Calling Li Meng an “old thing” felt strange given he was hundreds of years her junior, but he had only reached Foundation Establishment in his twilight years. So, yes—he was an old thing.

“I cannot,” Han Li replied bluntly.

Wen Huanhuan pouted. “Senior Brother, you’re really useless!”

Han Li’s mouth twitched.

Junior Sister, please. Senior Sister Nangong was at the Golden Core Late-Stage Grand Perfection.

Although the difference between “Late-Stage” and “Grand Perfection” sounded minor, that thin line was a chasm that countless cultivators failed to cross in their entire lifetimes. It was perfectly normal that he couldn’t detect a cultivator of her caliber.

“Fine,” Wen Huanhuan snapped, flicking her sleeves. “Let’s follow them!”

She turned into a streak of light and sped away. Han Li silently followed, a loyal shadow in her wake.

Seven days later.

The State of Qi.

At an altitude of a thousand zhang, a massive jade gourd soared through the heavens, riding the wind.

The weather was perfect. The sky was cloudless for ten thousand li, offering an unobstructed view of the boundless earth below.

“It’s so beautiful… Senior Brother, is this the State of Zhao?”

Xia Xi lay on her stomach near the edge of the Sword Nurturing Gourd, gazing down at the miniature world beneath them. Although she had traveled before, she had never ventured this far from home. They had been flying for seven days and seven nights without rest.

Li Meng, sitting cross-legged at the gourd’s center, stretched lazily, his joints popping satisfyingly.

“This is the State of Qi. In two days, we will cross into the State of Wu. Only after we traverse Wu will we reach the State of Zhao.”

Xia Xi’s eyes widened in shock. “The… the Tianlan Continent is that big?”

Li Meng looked down at her with an amused smile.

“This is considered small. The Upper Continent—the Liuxia Continent—now that is big. It is the size of hundreds of Tianlan Continents combined.”

“That… that’s too exaggerated!”

“It isn’t exaggerated in the least.”

“You aren’t lying to me?”

“Senior Brother never speaks falsehoods.”

“That sounds amazing,” Xia Xi whispered, her eyes sparkling. “If I have the chance in the future, I must go see the outside world.”

“You will have the chance.”

Sitting quietly to the side, Zhang Tianhua observed the exchange, a faint smile gracing her lips.

Over the past few days, she had come to understand Li Meng’s character. He was easygoing, devoid of the desperate grasping that plagued most cultivators.

Cultivators came from the mortal world, and often, they never truly left it behind. They fought over women out of jealousy, stole and pilfered for resources, and schemed like petty merchants. The “Immortals” on the mountain were rarely as transcendent as the legends claimed.

But Li Meng felt different. He possessed a true aristocratic indifference—the calm of someone who already had everything.

“Senior Brother!” Xia Xi suddenly looked up, mischief dancing in her eyes.

“Hmm?” Li Meng tilted his head.

“If Senior Sister and I become disciples of Ancestor Nangong Wan…” She grinned slyly. “Wouldn’t that make us your Seniors? You’d have to call us ‘Martial Aunt’!”

Li Meng chuckled warmly, stroking his beard as he regarded her beautiful, teasing face.

“Is that so? Why don’t you try calling me ‘Martial Nephew’ right now? Let’s hear how it sounds.”

Xia Xi’s bravado instantly collapsed. She flustered, hugging Li Meng’s arm tightly.

“Senior, I… I was just joking!”

She couldn’t possibly let him address her with such subservience. It felt wrong.

Li Meng laughed and reached out, gently flicking her forehead.

“Call me ‘Senior Brother’. Do that, and Senior Brother will spoil you for a lifetime.”

Xia Xi’s cheeks flushed a soft pink. Her eyes curved into happy crescents.

“Senior Brother! Senior Brother! Senior Brother!”

She chirped it three times, her voice sweet as honey. “You aren’t allowed to lie about that!”

Li Meng smiled, smoothing his beard with satisfaction. “Didn’t I say it already? Senior Brother never speaks falsehoods.”

“Mhm! I believe you!”

Feeling the astonishing softness of her chest pressing against his arm, Li Meng’s smile deepened slightly.

He had already been intimate with Xia Xi. He knew her measurements intimately. While she didn’t possess the magnificent, world-defying scale of Senior Sister Qu, she was certainly well-endowed among women.

Time flowed like water. Day after day passed.

Li Meng steered the gourd steadily eastward. The return journey was exceptionally smooth.

They encountered no reckless cultivators blocking their path. Foundation Establishment cultivators had limited Divine Sense and couldn’t detect the high-flying gourd. As for Golden Core cultivators, they were rare and wouldn’t be bored enough to harass a passing peer without cause.

Besides, the Sword Nurturing Gourd was a recognizable treasure. Anyone possessing such an item was no ordinary individual. Exceptionally talented disciples wandering the world usually had powerful Dao Protectors lurking in the shadows. To provoke them was to court death.

The State of Zhao. Joyous Union Sect. Inner Sect Territory. Masked Moon Peak.

A streak of light pierced the horizon. The massive gourd arrived with breathtaking speed, slowing only as it approached the towering mountain shrouded in clouds and mist.

“Junior Sister, behold. This is Masked Moon Peak.”

Xia Xi stared in wonder. The mountain was colossal.

Thick clouds hugged its waist, leaving the upper peaks floating like islands in a white sea. Above the cloud layer, the summit was wrapped in yet another veil of spiritual mist, adding to its mystique.

The Sword Nurturing Gourd dragged a long wake through the sea of clouds as it descended.

Li Meng performed a single-handed seal and flicked his sleeve.

A Formation Token flew out, hovering before him. It pulsed with faint spiritual light, sending a resonance signal toward the mountain.

The mist guarding Masked Moon Peak churned and parted, spontaneously opening a tunnel directly to the summit.

The gourd glided through the passage, carrying them to the highest pavilion on the peak.

They descended into the courtyard. Li Meng landed softly, straightened his robes, and bowed respectfully toward the upper level of the pavilion.