The Oldest Disciple: Farming Intimacy to Become Immortal

Chapter 211: To See Someone

“I need to see someone. You all head back first.”

Li Meng didn’t elaborate on who this person was, and the women, knowing his temperament, didn’t press for details. With a sharp whistle of wind, Li Meng soared into the sky, his figure a streak of light as he flew beyond the peaks.

His companions followed suit, their silhouettes dispersing in different directions as they rode the air currents. Yuan Baobao paused, casting a long, lingering look back. By then, Senior Brother Li had already vanished beyond the horizon.

“Junior Sister!”

A familiar voice called out, drawing closer by the breath. From her left, a flash of sword light surged forward. Yuan Baobao turned to see Senior Brother Xuan pulling up beside her.

“Senior Brother Xuan?”

He had followed her from the direction of the Martial Arts Peak, suggesting he had been there watching the matches all along.

“Junior Sister, you’ve yet to visit my cave abode, haven’t you?” Xuan Hao asked, his tone hopeful. “The scenery there is quite exceptional. Would you like to see it?”

Yuan Baobao glanced toward the path Li Meng had taken. Perhaps today was the day to be frank. She valued Xuan Hao, but she wanted their bond to remain purely platonic. He was a good man; he deserved a Dao Companion who could give him her whole heart.

Brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead, she offered a graceful, apologetic smile. “I’m a bit drained after watching the matches for so many days. Let’s save the cave abode for another time. But it has been a while, Senior Brother—why don’t we find a spot nearby to catch up?”

Xuan Hao scanned the surrounding landscape. “That peak there, then.” He pointed to a mountain with a solitary stone pavilion perched halfway up its slope.

“Alright.”

The mountain was nameless, the pavilion silent.

“Junior Sister, can you tell me… who is he?” Xuan Hao asked quietly. He sat at the stone table, sipping his tea with a forced calmness.

Seeing that he wasn’t flying into a rage, Yuan Baobao felt a twinge of guilt. She gripped her teacup tightly. “Senior Brother, are you… not angry?”

A bitter smile tugged at Xuan Hao’s lips. He sighed, shaking his head slowly. “I am merely… unwilling. Is he truly better than me?”

Was Senior Brother Li better than Xuan Hao?

Yuan Baobao took a slow sip of tea, her eyes reflecting the swirling leaves. “At that time… he probably wasn’t as ‘good’ as you, Senior Brother.”

Back then, Li Meng had been nothing more than a withered little old man. Why had she chosen him? Looking back, she supposed she had been incredibly foolish. But regret? Not a shred. If she hadn’t been foolish then, she wouldn’t be the woman she was today.

Confusion clouded Xuan Hao’s eyes. If the man wasn’t better, why him? Is it truly love? His hand trembled, nearly splashing tea onto the stone. If it was love, he never stood a chance.

Yuan Baobao rose and walked to the edge of the pavilion, looking out over the endless sea of clouds. “Senior Brother, romance is but a minor path. We are cultivators; our pursuit is the Great Dao of Longevity. We walk against the heavens. On this long journey, only by learning to let go can our thoughts be clear and our Dao hearts remain unshakable.”

She spoke with a cold, firm determination. If one could not reach the summit, everything else was a fleeting illusion. She didn’t just want to walk beside Li Meng; she wanted to stand at the very peak of the world with him.

Xuan Hao stared at her back. She was more beautiful than he remembered—a mature, focused beauty that was both intoxicating and agonizing. He downed the rest of his tea in one gulp, exhaling a heavy breath of turbid air.

“Junior Sister, do not worry about me. I understand your meaning. Go and pursue the things you desire; I won’t stand in your way.”

Yuan Baobao smiled faintly. That was enough. Time would eventually soothe his wounded pride.

“Senior Brother, I’m tired. I’ll be taking my leave now.”

Xuan Hao stood and cupped his hands in a formal salute. “Junior Sister, please.”

Yuan Baobao returned the gesture. Neither could say exactly when they had become so formal, so distant. She turned and rode the wind, her robes fluttering like a celestial’s as she disappeared into the clouds.

Xuan Hao watched until the sky was empty. He sat back down, his mind churning.

Who is he?

He had known for years that she had lost her Pure Yin Body. As her former partner in cultivation, he had felt the impurity in her Yin Qi long ago. He had accepted that they would never be Dao Companions, but he needed to know why he had lost. Yet, in all his years of watching, only two men were ever close to her: himself and Li Meng.

“Could it be Senior Brother Li?”

The thought startled him, but he immediately shook his head. “Impossible.”

Back then, Li Meng was a decrepit old man with a Five Spirit Roots waste body. Harmonious Union with him would have been useless for her cultivation.

“Then who?” Xuan Hao whispered to the wind, utterly lost.

—

Joyous Union Sect, Inner Sect, Cloud Soaring Peak.

Li Meng descended into the courtyard of the mountaintop pavilion, his robes settling gracefully around him. He looked up at the upper windows with a smirk. It had been nearly two years since he’d seen Senior Wen.

“Surely she won’t be that angry,” he muttered, adjusting his sleeves before strolling toward the door.

He had given her fair warning two years ago about his Secluded Cultivation. With a soft click, he pushed the door open. On the upper floor, he entered a room where a familiar, intoxicating fragrance immediately filled his senses.

She’s just returned, he noted, noticing the lingering scent in the air. He crept toward the inner chamber and pulled back the heavy curtain.

Wen Huanhuan was there, lying on her side with her back to him. The curve of her waist was lush and provocative. Li Meng felt his throat go dry, a loud gulp echoing in the silent room.

He didn’t hesitate. He climbed onto the bed and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her dark hair.

“Hmph. You lecherous brat, aren’t you afraid I’ll beat you to death?” Wen Huanhuan opened her eyes, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson. She wanted to tell him to get lost, but her heart wouldn’t let the words out.

“Senior, I missed you,” Li Meng whispered.

She slapped at his wandering hands. “Keep your hands still! And stop with the mushy words. It’s nauseating.”

Li Meng chuckled, tightening his grip. “The mortals say a day apart feels like three years. It’s been two years for us—how could I not miss you?”

“Miss me in silence, then!”

“Does that mean I can have ‘improper thoughts’ about you instead?”

“Improper thoughts? You really are a lecher!” She slapped his hand again. “Behave, or I’ll cripple this hand.”

Li Meng sheepishly moved his hands to her waist. “You smell wonderful, Senior.”

Wen Huanhuan’s face burned. He was getting far too bold. Did he really think she wouldn’t strike him? She felt a wave of confusion. Why was she so helpless against him?

“Senior, turn around.”

“No. You… you just want to kiss me again.”

“It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

They wrestled briefly, but Wen Huanhuan’s cultivation held firm. Li Meng eventually gave up, contenting himself with holding her.

“Senior, after the Inner Sect Grand Competition, I’m heading to the Kongming Hall. I’ve heard the ‘Little Spirit Realm’ has Longevity Fruits. If I make it back, I’ll bring a high-grade one back to refine a Longevity Pill for you. And if I don’t… I’ve told Master to ensure you get a share of whatever is left.”

Wen Huanhuan rolled her eyes, but her heart softened. The boy was manipulative, yes, but he wasn’t wrong. The Kongming Hall was a death trap.

Suddenly, she rolled over, pinning Li Meng beneath her. They locked eyes, and Li Meng’s playful smirk vanished, replaced by a rare gravity.

“Must you go?” she asked, her voice cool.

Li Meng reached up, his fingers grazing her jade-like cheek. She didn’t pull away.

“The Kongming Hall holds my path, Senior. If I don’t go, my glory will last a century at most.”

For a Five Spirit Roots cultivator, resources were everything. He needed the ancient spirit plants of the Little Spirit Realm to bridge the chasm of his talent.

Wen Huanhuan fell silent for a long time before finally burying her head in his chest. Li Meng smiled, stroking her back.

“The Kongming Hall is treacherous. You must be careful,” she whispered, her voice losing its chill and turning soft. “Especially of the Filth Gods. If you see one, run—or shatter its golden body instantly.”

“Filth God? What is that?”

“Didn’t your Master tell you?”

“No…”

“Hmph. Typical. She’s as indifferent as ever.” Wen Huanhuan sighed. “Listen well. When the ancient heavens collapsed and the world shattered, the gods either reincarnated or fled to fragment worlds. Those who hid in the fragments are the Filth Gods. Unlike the gods of the mortal realm who rely on incense and worship, these entities possess eternal life. They are ancient, hateful beings—gods who have fallen into malice. They are, quite literally, materialized Outer Domain Demons.”

Li Meng’s eyes widened. This was lore far beyond the reach of a Foundation Establishment disciple.

“The Kongming Hall is a ‘Cave Heaven,’ a fragment world,” she continued. “Filth Gods love places with dense Spiritual Qi like the Little Spirit Realm. If you find a place that feels… wrong, leave immediately. Also, ignore the rules about Nascent Soul cultivators not attacking juniors. If you encounter one, yield. No plant is worth your life.”