At the gate of the Dao Qingyun Sect stood several old halls that looked somewhat worn. The paint on the walls had peeled off in many places.
In front of the main hall, a single incense stick burned alone in its burner, its thin smoke adding a sense of simplicity and poverty.
That day, Su Changyu had woken up early.
As the eldest senior in the Dao Qingyun Sect, it was only proper for him to welcome the Master's return.
Of course, welcoming the Master wasn't the important part. What mattered more was how to deceive the new junior disciple right from the start.
He had arranged things so that the other students wouldn't get too close to the newcomer. For now, keeping a mysterious impression was far more important.
After all, the first impression is always decisive.
And Su Changyu knew this better than anyone.
For that reason, he wore his ceremonial battle robe—the elegant Dao robe he received when he ranked in the top five hundred of the Qingzhou Sword Trial.
Once the robe was on, his aura immediately rose to a different level. Added to that was his three-foot-long sword, making him look exactly like an immortal swordsman.
Looking into the bronze mirror, Su Changyu couldn't help but let out a sigh.
"I'm this handsome, my face is charismatic… but why am I still just an ordinary human?"
Feelings like this often surfaced. Many people mistook him for an expert just because of his appearance. But a handsome face can't cover the truth forever. Maybe it could deceive people once or twice, but sooner or later, they'd realize if you lacked real skill.
That's why he rarely descended the mountains. Simply staying put as the eldest senior in the Dao Qingyun Sect was already quite enjoyable.
After putting down the mirror, Su Changyu estimated the time. The sun was directly overhead; the Master would return any moment now.
With that thought, he stepped out of his room.
He stood calmly on a small hill near the sect gate. His expression was neutral, his handsome face radiating an aura of mystery, while the three-foot sword hovered in front of him. Hands folded behind his back, his posture ready—just waiting for the new junior to be fooled by his performance.
Before the incense stick even finished burning, two figures slowly appeared in the distance.
Su Changyu felt a twinge of nervousness but quickly composed himself, then displayed his "unique aura."
---
Meanwhile, Ye Ping, climbing the mountain, was already panting.
The climb was tough, especially for him, someone who had never trained in martial arts or cultivation. The winding mountain paths felt more exhausting than carrying bricks.
If it weren't for his determination to pursue immortality, he might have given up long ago.
Sweat dripped from his forehead, his body felt uncomfortable. In contrast, Daoist Taihua walked lightly, his robe immaculate, his aura truly that of an immortal. Ye Ping couldn't hide his envy.
At that moment, his eyes fell on someone.
On a small hill not far away, stood a man in his late twenties.
He was tall, handsome, wearing a jade crown and a fine robe. In front of him floated a long sword, and his eyes were as deep as stars in the sky.
"An immortal swordsman?"
The thought instantly sprang to Ye Ping's mind.
The figure perfectly matched his image of an immortal swordsman: elegant, heroic, sharp eyebrows, glowing eyes, and an unmatched captivating aura.
Most striking were his eyes—cold and calm, as if looking down on everything in heaven and earth.
Ye Ping froze in place.
Honestly, before coming here, he thought the Dao Qingyun Sect was nothing special. Otherwise, how could someone with no spiritual foundation like him be accepted?
But seeing this man, Ye Ping suddenly doubted his own judgment.
Perhaps the sect looked ordinary from the outside, but in reality, it held great power. Even its "ordinary" disciples were extraordinary.
Ye Ping's heart raced with excitement.
Unconsciously, he whispered softly,
"Maybe there are three million immortal swordsmen in the world… but when they meet me, they'll all bow their heads."
The words came straight from his heart; they were the only way to describe the figure before him.
Su Changyu, who heard it, was stunned.
The words… perfect.
His eyes sparkled. "Excellent. From now on, these words belong to me."
He never imagined that merely welcoming the Master could earn him such a perfect line for free.
Maintaining a calm and dignified face, Su Changyu turned toward Daoist Taihua and saluted respectfully.
"Your disciple welcomes your return, Master."
His voice was clear and warm.
"Hmm." Daoist Taihua nodded slightly. He observed everything, including Ye Ping's reaction. It was clear Ye Ping had completely fallen for the trick.
Though the Master's heart was pleased, his expression remained composed. Acting must be consistent.
"Changyu, what are you doing here?" the Master asked softly.
Su Changyu calmly grasped his sword and replied,
"Master, your disciple is here understanding the Dao of the Sword… and at the same time welcoming your return."
Daoist Taihua nearly choked. Really? Just welcoming the Master had to be exaggerated into "understanding the Dao of Heaven"?
But seeing Ye Ping's face full of admiration, the Master relaxed. As long as Ye Ping believed it, the whole performance was worthwhile.
"Then continue your understanding. Ye Ping, this is your eldest senior, Su Changyu. Show your respect immediately."
Ye Ping quickly snapped to attention, stepped forward, and bowed deeply.
"Your disciple Ye Ping pays respect to Senior."
His voice was full of respect.
"You're too polite, junior," Su Changyu replied calmly. "If the Master has accepted you, it means you have talent. I don't have much to offer, but let me give you a small opportunity. Take it well."
With a single gesture of his hand, a gentle breeze blew toward Ye Ping.
In an instant, Ye Ping felt refreshed, as if his entire body had been lifted lightly.
Daoist Taihua silently admired.
"Even though our sect is poor, this boy can make a gentle breeze feel like a great opportunity. Truly talented in style…"
"Thank you, Senior."
Ye Ping was overjoyed. For a transmigrator like him, even something this simple felt like a miracle.
Whether it was truly luck or not didn't matter to him.
What was certain was that this eldest senior… had to be an expert.
[TO BE CONTINUED]