Zhang Xian chuckled. This old man spoke with remarkable directness.

“Your insight is truly keen, Daoist Master.” Zhang Xian set down his teacup. “I have indeed touched the threshold of cultivation, yet I remain forever unable to cross it.”

The old Daoist, Xuanwei, spoke slowly. “Duke of Zhen Guo, you saw just now—my inept disciple has followed me for ten years, yet he has only reached the mid-level of the Innate Realm. As for you, your internal energy is harmonious and complete, just one step away from a breakthrough. But in my view, you lack two crucial things.”

“Which two?”

“Spiritual Roots, and the Spiritual Energy of Heaven and Earth.”

Xuanwei continued, “If my guess is correct, you lack Spiritual Roots. Otherwise, at your current level, you would have already drawn spiritual energy into your body and reached the initial stage of Qi Refining. Of course, the greater problem lies in this world’s exceedingly thin spiritual energy, rendering cultivation all but impossible. Even if you were to enter the Qi Refining stage, you would be like a tree without roots, a duckweed without water.”

As he spoke, Xuanwei gently raised his palm. Wisps of light gathered between his fingers, only to dissipate into nothingness before they could coalesce.

So, besides Spiritual Roots, there is also the issue of ambient spiritual energy.

Zhang Xian, accustomed to overcoming impossible odds, pressed further. “May I ask, Daoist Master, which sect did you originally belong to, and how did you end up here?”

Xuanwei shook his head with a bitter smile. “My sect has long since vanished. Now, I am merely a fallen, wandering cultivator. Look at how depleted my spiritual energy has become—I have reached the end of my road.”

Zhang Xian understood that Xuanwei did not wish to elaborate, so he refrained from pressing the matter. Instead, they chatted about trivial subjects for a while.

After a long pause, Zhang Xian rose to leave. Xuanwei also stood to see him off.

Suddenly, without warning, Zhang Xian halted mid-step and asked, “Daoist Master, do you know Li Miaoyin?”

No sooner had the words left his lips than Xuanwei’s aura surged violently.

“Who are you?!” he bellowed.

A massive wave of spiritual pressure swept through the room, overturning every piece of furniture. At the same moment, Xuanwei swung his long sleeve, launching a strike intended to subdue Zhang Xian instantly.

Zhang Xian, however, had anticipated this. He clasped his hands together, meeting Xuanwei’s attack head-on.

BOOM!

The entire room exploded outward. Simultaneously, a streak of silver light whizzed past Zhang Xian. The Ruyi Short Sword pierced directly through Xuanwei’s protective spiritual aura, stopping less than half an inch from the Yuzhen acupoint at the back of his neck.

All of this transpired in the blink of an eye.

Xuanwei coughed up a mouthful of blood, his protective aura shattered, his internal organs rattled. “How is this possible… how could you possibly master a magical artifact?”

“Daoist Master, please don’t be so agitated. I harbor no ill intentions.” Zhang Xian seized the advantage and immediately retreated a safe distance.

Frankly, he had a good impression of Xuanwei, but he hadn’t expected such a violent reaction to Li Miaoyin’s name. The old man had lost control instantly. Nor had he anticipated the Ruyi Short Sword would be so formidable. Xuanwei was a Qi Refining stage master, yet his protective aura was like paper before the artifact.

“Old thief, die!”

The middle-aged Taoist, Yu Yun, seeing his master injured, combined old grievances with new fury. His eyes blazed red as he charged forward.

Zhang Xian didn’t even glance at him. He waved his hand, unleashing a gust of internal energy.

Yu Yun flew backward faster than he had come, tumbling several times upon landing. Though uninjured, the humiliation stung worse than any wound. Knowing Zhang Xian had held back, Yu Yun roared, “If you have a grievance, take it out on me! Release my Master!”

The sensation transported him back ten years, to when he had been just as useless, watching his beloved Senior Sister be humiliated by this old thief. And now, his Master too—

That old thief deserves to die!

Zhang Xian, uninterested in further confrontation, glanced at Xuanwei. “Daoist Master, I was merely inquiring about a name. There is no need for such hostility.”

He recalled the Ruyi Short Sword, calculating inwardly that with this weapon, handling Xuanwei would pose no difficulty.

Xuanwei, severely wounded, glared fiercely at Zhang Xian. “Where did you hear that name?”

Zhang Xian knew he couldn’t explain the System, so he mumbled vaguely, “A friend told me.”

“Bullshit!” Xuanwei spat venomously. “Do whatever you want with me—kill me, dismember me!”

With that, he closed his eyes, tilting his neck up in a dramatic gesture of martyrdom.

What is going on?

Zhang Xian certainly wasn’t about to kill him. He tried again. “I truly only wanted to inquire about someone.”

Unfortunately, Xuanwei had ceased responding, simply lying there with his neck exposed, waiting for the blade.

Meanwhile, Yu Yun scrambled to his feet, rushed forward, was blown back, and rushed forward again. After several failed attempts to get within an inch of Zhang Xian, he collapsed to the ground, weeping bitterly.

“You monster! You tormented my Senior Sister, and now you won’t even spare us! What wrong did my Master do to deserve this? Why are you so ruthless? Oh, my Senior Sister, you died such a tragic death!”

The young acolytes in the courtyard watched from a distance, trembling in fear.

Zhang Xian suddenly felt overwhelmed. He felt like a heinous villain bullying the weak, completely contrary to the image he had envisioned.

At that moment, a figure in blue robes descended gracefully from the sky, landing beside Xuanwei.

“I am Li Miaoyin! Who asks for me?”

【Ding! Li Miaoyin’s Favorability toward you is -5. Binding successful.】

The woman was a Taoist nun, approximately forty years old. Her dark hair, streaked with a few strands of silver, was tied loosely in a bun adorned with a plain wooden hairpin. Years had etched fine lines around her eyes, yet they had not dimmed the brightness of her clear, luminous gaze, which still held the delicate beauty of her youth.

A mature woman?

Zhang Xian was somewhat surprised. Li Miaoyin was also a cultivator, seemingly at a slightly higher level than Xuanwei—but not by much.

No big deal.

With the Ruyi Short Sword in hand, Zhang Xian remained completely unfazed. He bowed respectfully. “I am Zhang Xian. I inadvertently injured the Daoist Master earlier. It was purely an accident.”

“Could you really injure Xuanwei?” The beautiful woman frowned slightly, a faint line appearing between her brows that added a touch of vitality to her expression.

She turned to Xuanwei. “At your age, you still dare to fight others—and lose, no less!” Though her tone carried a hint of reproach, it could not conceal her concern.

She placed her hand on Xuanwei’s back, transferring spiritual energy to stabilize him.

Seeing Li Miaoyin, Xuanwei’s tone softened instantly. “Senior Sister, I was injured by his magical artifact, but it’s nothing serious. Your spiritual energy—”

“Be quiet!”

Hmm? Something fishy is going on.

Zhang Xian, having navigated the complexities of human relationships for decades, immediately recognized that the bond between these two was far from simple.

“Speak! Why are you seeking me? And injuring Xuanwei—such a thing cannot be excused with a mere apology!” Li Miaoyin demanded, turning her sharp gaze on Zhang Xian.

“Well, a friend told me. They said there was a very powerful cultivator here, and I wanted to make acquaintances.”

“Do you think I’d believe such nonsense?”

Zhang Xian knew further fabrication would be futile, so he emphasized, “I truly have no ill intentions.”

As he spoke, his internal energy shifted. A streak of silver light flashed briefly, circling the two Taoists before returning to hover beside Zhang Xian.

The unspoken message was clear: Dealing with you both would be effortless. If I truly harbored ill will, I wouldn’t be wasting time talking.

Li Miaoyin’s gaze sharpened. A magical artifact! How can a mortal at the Innate level wield a magical artifact? No wonder Xuanwei couldn’t defeat him. Even she might not be his match.

Li Miaoyin reflected for a moment. Neither she nor Xuanwei possessed anything worth stealing. Perhaps this man truly meant no harm.

“Stop crying and brew some tea!” Li Miaoyin ordered Yu Yun, who was still sobbing on the ground. Then, supporting Xuanwei, she led him into another room.

The tea room had been destroyed, so they chose the study instead.

Yu Yun, acting as the eternal servant, composed himself, arranged a new tea set, glared sharply at Zhang Xian, and quietly stepped aside.

Xuanwei no longer resembled the ethereal, otherworldly master he once was. He watched Li Miaoyin with aching tenderness. Just now, she had infused her spiritual energy into him, and fine beads of sweat had formed on her forehead.

“Senior Sister, I’m fine now. A few days of rest will suffice,” Xuanwei said softly.

Only then did Li Miaoyin release her hand. Seeing the sweat on her forehead, Xuanwei instinctively reached out to wipe it away, but quickly caught himself, pretending nothing had happened. Instead, he cast a scornful glare at Zhang Xian, who was sitting awkwardly opposite them.

“Hmph! To injure me with a magical artifact and still dare to seek out my Senior Sister! Shameless!”