Chapter Twenty-Two: Elder Ye

Since Lu Zhe and Shangguan Yijing made their wager, more than a month had passed. During this time, Lu Zhe had remained at Oil Sixth Uncle’s home, recuperating from his injuries. He took advantage of the quiet to cultivate his spiritual power, and though his progress was modest, he managed to break through to the level of a two-star spiritual adept. This advancement astonished Oil Sixth Uncle, who had been watching over Lu Zhe all along.

On this particular day, Lu Zhe sat cross-legged on his bed, deep in cultivation. As he practiced, the spiritual energy from heaven and earth began to swirl around him, eventually being absorbed into his body and transformed into his own spiritual power.

The cycle continued for about half an hour before Lu Zhe slowly opened his eyes, a sharp light shining within them. He swallowed and exhaled the stale air that had built up in his chest, feeling invigorated. Sensing the fullness of his spiritual core, he leapt from the bed and flexed his limbs, delighted to find himself brimming with strength. He marvelled at the benefits of cultivation, regretting that he hadn’t listened to Sixth Uncle’s advice sooner. Yet, as he moved about, his stomach soon began to growl.

Holding his stomach, Lu Zhe smiled wryly. He hadn’t felt hungry during cultivation, but now that it was over, the hunger struck him with force.

He made his way to the dining hall and sat down at random. A servant immediately brought forth a meal, but as Lu Zhe gazed at the dishes before him, he found himself strangely reluctant to eat.

He had been living at Oil Sixth Uncle’s home for over a month, enjoying their hospitality. At first, things went smoothly, but after a few days, he noticed that the servants’ glances toward him were tinged with disdain. Seeing this, Lu Zhe was troubled, but his injuries prevented him from leaving. He could only endure in silence.

After a while, he pushed the food aside, unable to bring himself to eat. He quickly left the hall, escaping the eyes of the crowd, and made his way toward the nearby mountain.

Upon reaching the mountain, he took a deep breath of the moist air and sat cross-legged, gazing at the endless, undulating peaks. A sense of frustration welled up within him. A month had already passed since the agreed time, and Shangguan Yijing was likely deep in cultivation, while he sat idly here. His greatest concern was why his teacher had not yet arrived.

Oil Sixth Uncle had told him that a teacher would come to instruct him, and Lu Zhe had eagerly awaited this day and night, for he knew nothing of cultivation and desired guidance. Yet the teacher never came, and his repeated inquiries to Oil Sixth Uncle were always met with, “No rush, no rush,” leaving Lu Zhe even more troubled.

He shook his head as he looked over the rolling mountains. His stomach growled again, deepening his frustration. He decided to cultivate once more, since he never felt hunger while practicing.

Without hesitation, Lu Zhe sat and formed the appropriate seals, and sure enough, as he delved deeper into cultivation, his hunger faded away.

“You use cultivation to suppress hunger. I must say, this method surprises me.” As Lu Zhe was immersed in his practice, a voice suddenly sounded at his ear.

He immediately broke from his meditative state and turned to find a figure standing behind him, though he had no idea when this person had arrived.

The man wore a green robe and held a jade-green bamboo staff, about as thick as a thumb and half a person’s height. It was crystal-clear, smooth, and quite beautiful. He stood at about five feet five inches tall, dressed in emerald robes with a green scarf covering his face, leaving only his eyes visible. His long hair flowed down his back, lending him an air of mystery and elegance.

“Who are you?” Lu Zhe asked, looking at the stranger.

Suddenly, the stranger tapped Lu Zhe with the bamboo staff.

“Ouch!” Lu Zhe cried out, clutching his head. He stood up and found that the stranger was half a head taller than himself. He glanced up, a trace of indignation in his gaze. “What are you doing?”

Another tap, this time to his backside. The green-robed figure spoke in a calm voice from behind the mask, “You dare address me without honorifics.”

Lu Zhe, holding his behind, retorted, “What are you doing?”

A third tap landed on his head, and the green-robed stranger continued, “Still no honorifics.”

“Enough!” Lu Zhe could no longer endure. He swung a fist at the stranger.

The bamboo staff spun, its tip pressed against Lu Zhe’s chest, stopping him cold. With a slight shake of the staff, a surge of powerful spiritual energy flowed through it into Lu Zhe’s chest, sending him reeling.

“Ah!” Lu Zhe cried out, the pain in his chest forcing him back several steps. He clutched his chest, gasping, and before he could catch his breath, blood sprayed from his mouth.

The green-robed figure quietly planted the bamboo staff on the ground and watched Lu Zhe. “It seems the blood in your chest has not yet been expelled.”

Lu Zhe was startled, suddenly realizing that the oppressive feeling in his chest was gone.

His wariness toward the stranger dissipated. Indeed, it was useless to be wary—a person capable of such power with a simple gesture was at least a Spirit Emperor. A Spirit Emperor could easily injure someone at Lu Zhe’s current level with a mere sneeze.

“May I ask, esteemed elder, who you are?” Lu Zhe now bowed respectfully.

The stranger did not answer but instead asked, “Who I am does not matter. What matters is, are you Lu Zhe?”

Taken aback, Lu Zhe nodded, “Yes, I am Lu Zhe.”

“Very well. I am the teacher your Sixth Uncle invited for you,” the stranger said, tapping the bamboo staff.

Lu Zhe was overjoyed, quickly responding, “Then Lu Zhe greets his teacher. May I ask—”

Before he could finish, the stranger tapped him on the head with the staff. “First, perform the ceremony of apprenticeship.”

Embarrassed, Lu Zhe knelt and performed the proper rites.

When the ceremony was complete, Lu Zhe stood up and asked, “Master, what is your surname?”

The stranger sat on a nearby rock, gently stroking the bamboo staff with his right hand. “My surname is Ye. You may call me Elder Ye.”

“Elder Ye? Elder? Master, there’s nothing about you that fits the word ‘elder,’” Lu Zhe observed, eyeing him up and down.

Ye was about to tap Lu Zhe’s head again, but Lu Zhe blocked the staff with his hand, grinning mischievously. Elder Ye glanced at him, then spun the staff, lifting Lu Zhe into the air along with it for a full turn. When Lu Zhe landed, Elder Ye coldly declared, “Who is the master here, you or me?”

“You are, you are!” Lu Zhe quickly replied. He had tried to be clever by grabbing Elder Ye’s staff, only to find that Ye’s strength was so great he was spun along with it. This impressed Lu Zhe and made him wary.

“From now on, you are my disciple. I don’t ask much of my students—just do your best to be yourself,” Elder Ye’s voice drifted from behind the mask.

“Oh,” Lu Zhe nodded, then stepped forward. “Master, what do you plan to teach me?”