Author Archives: Thingyan

“The farther north we go, the less it seems to rain.”

Qi Beinan and Zhao Guangzong had been on the road for seven days. Once they left the borders of Linzhou Prefecture, they reached the main official road leading toward the capital.

It had rained on and off for days back in Linzhou, making travel miserable. They, riding inside the carriage, had fared well enough, but their driver had to endure the damp spring drizzle while urging the horses forward.

Fortunately, they had come well-prepared with rain capes and straw hats, keeping themselves from being soaked.

Now, upon the open northern highway, the sky was finally clear.

After being cooped up in the carriage for several days, Qi Beinan and Zhao Guangzong stepped out to stretch their legs, walking alongside as the horses trotted ahead.

Then the carriage slowed.

“What’s wrong? The wheel stuck on a rock?”

“Sir, I’ve checked—the wheels are sound.”

As they spoke, they noticed two other carriages halted ahead, blocking part of the road. A few men were gathered around, looking puzzled.

Qi Beinan squinted and saw that one of the carriages bore an official pennant—apparently from Jinling Prefecture.

“Most likely fellow examinees on their way to the capital. Let’s go see what’s happened.”

Zhao Guangzong nodded, and the two of them quickened their pace.

“Has there been some trouble? Do you need a hand?”

Qi Beinan signaled their driver to pull aside so their own carriage wouldn’t clog the road further.

“Apologies, gentlemen,” said one of the men near the broken carriage. “Our wheel won’t turn for some reason—it must be blocking your way.”

“It’s no bother,” Qi Beinan replied.

Just then, a young man in a moon-white robe stepped around from the far side of the carriage. His hair was bound with a jade pin, and a fine jade pendant hung at his waist. He was slender and refined, with a faintly languid air.

He lifted his chin, revealing a tiny crimson mole between his brows.

Something about his posture felt familiar to Qi Beinan. When he got a clearer look at his face, he paused in surprise.

“Are you two also examinees bound for the capital?” the young man asked.

He glanced at the pennant flying from Qi Beinan’s carriage, inhaled lightly, and rubbed the bridge of his nose as if suppressing a sneeze. Translated on Hololo novels. His eyes looked slightly drowsy, as though he had been woken too soon from sleep.

“Yes,” Qi Beinan said.

The young man smiled faintly and bowed. “My name is Jiang Tangyuan. I’m traveling from Jinling to sit for the examination.”

Qi Beinan’s lips curved in recognition as he returned the courtesy. “Qi Beinan, from Linzhou.”

Zhao Guangzong also introduced himself.

All three were young men of similar age, and meeting by chance on the same road to the capital made for easy companionship.

Qi Beinan called Qin Jiang over to inspect the damaged carriage together with Jiang Tangyuan. They soon discovered that the axle inside had cracked—fortunately before the entire carriage collapsed.

The nearest station was still twenty miles away, and there was only a small village along the route. Repairing the carriage here would not be easy.

“Jiang Langjun,” Qi Beinan said, “if you don’t mind, you and your people can ride with us for now. One of your men can stay behind to handle the repairs. Once we reach the next city, you can buy another carriage and catch up without losing time.”

After a moment’s thought, Jiang Tangyuan nodded. “Then I’ll gratefully accept your kindness.”

He walked back to his carriage and called softly, “A-Tuan, we’ll be traveling with the two gentlemen ahead.”

A fair-faced young ge’er stepped down, holding a plump round-eyed cat in his arms. The cat stretched lazily as it emerged, its soft paws opening like four little petals.

The ge’er bowed politely. “Many thanks to both gentlemen.”

Qi Beinan froze for an instant—he hadn’t expected to see Jiang Tangtuan here.

It had been over ten years since he’d last heard that name.

Jiang Tangtuan, Jiang Tangyuan’s only younger sibling, had always been quiet and gentle, kind to the bone.

When Qi Beinan studied in Jinling years ago, Jiang Tangtuan would often prepare extra food for his brother, and sometimes even made a second portion for Qi Beinan as well.

Much like how Xiao Yuanbao cared for Zhao Guangzong, Jiang Tangtuan had treated Qi Beinan like an older brother.

But his fate had been short.

When Jiang Tangtuan came of age, his family married him to one of their favored students. The man had seemed devoted before marriage, but once he gained office through the Jiang family’s influence, he began to change.

Away from his in-laws’ supervision, he first took in a childhood sweetheart, then, one drunken night, raised his hand against Jiang Tangtuan.

By the third year of marriage, Jiang Tangtuan died in childbirth.

Qi Beinan had been furious beyond restraint. He hunted the man down to his appointed post and beat him nearly crippled.

For striking a government official, he was impeached by the censors and subsequently demoted.

Zhao Guangzong, unaware of these buried memories, returned Jiang Tangtuan’s greeting politely. But when he saw Qi Beinan staring, motionless and blank, he discreetly tugged at his sleeve.

Qi Beinan came back to himself and quickly bowed in return.

“What’s wrong with you?” Zhao Guangzong muttered as they returned to their own carriage. “Did the journey rattle your brain?”

Then, with a sly grin, he added, “If you keep staring at people like that, I’ll tell Bao-ge’er when we get back.”

One carriage was arranged for Jiang Tangyuan to share, while the other carried some of his luggage so the space wouldn’t be cramped.

Qi Beinan chuckled. “Don’t think too much—I’ve no ulterior motives.”

Before long, Jiang Tangyuan came over with his belongings. Some were loaded onto Zhao Guangzong’s carriage, while he himself joined Qi Beinan in the other.

As the carriage swayed gently, Jiang Tangyuan kept rubbing his nose, itching for a sneeze that wouldn’t come.

A hand offered him a water pouch. “The farther north we go, the drier the air. Warm water helps.”

Jiang Tangyuan took it and sipped.

Qi Beinan said, “If your nose feels irritated, you can press the Yingxiang and Bitong acupoints—it helps clear the passage.”

Jiang Tangyuan looked over curiously. “Brother Qi seems well read—and even versed in medicine?”

He capped the pouch and smiled. “My physician said the same.”

Qi Beinan wasn’t actually knowledgeable in medicine, but he happened to recall such details from someone close to him.

“I just happen to know a little,” he said lightly.

That opened the conversation, and the two spoke for a while longer.

Though Jiang Tangyuan had initially been cautious—after all, they’d only met on the road—he found Qi Beinan’s manner easy and genuine. He still avoided mentioning family matters or his household, speaking only of books, studies, and scenery along the way, but before long he realized how naturally their thoughts aligned.

Their views on literature and discussion of ideas flowed as if they’d been friends for years.

The journey became unexpectedly pleasant.

When they reached Xiangyang City, Jiang Tangyuan bought a new carriage and horse, yet instead of parting ways, he proposed continuing together toward the capital.

Traveling again side by side, he seemed more at ease and familiar.

That night at the inn, Jiang Tangyuan brought out Jinling specialties—a saltwater duck and several salted duck eggs—to share.

Qi Beinan, in turn, produced the jar of oil-pickled vegetables that Xiao Yuanbao had made with him. The meat pies and braised dishes he had brought earlier had long been eaten during their days crossing Linzhou.

It was early spring, still cool enough for food to keep, but after ten days on the road, everything else would have spoiled. The pickled vegetables, however, were steeped in rapeseed oil and lasted easily over a month if kept clean and sealed tightly.

Because they stored so well, Qi Beinan had been reluctant to open them—saving them for when they reached the capital, as though sharing them then would bring someone closer across the distance.

Zhao Guangzong, watching him finally open the jar, grinned and said to Jiang Tangyuan, “You’re in luck, Jiang Langjun. Today you get to taste A’nan’s oil-pickled vegetables. You’ve no idea how stingy he’s been—begged him several times along the way and he wouldn’t touch them.”

Jiang Tangyuan laughed. “What kind of delicacy is this, that Brother Qi guards it so closely?”

Qi Beinan replied mildly, “It’s nothing special—just keeps longer, that’s all.”

As he spoke, he lifted the lid. A rich aroma filled the room, warm and savory.

Jiang Tangyuan’s sleepy eyes brightened. “Just the scent alone is worth it. No wonder Brother Zhao’s been thinking of it.”

Qi Beinan spooned some into a dish. “Please, have some. It goes well with porridge—or stuffed into steamed buns and flatbreads.”

Jiang Tangyuan took his chopsticks and tried it without restraint.

The moment he tasted it, the flavor bloomed—salty, fragrant, and layered. He thought to himself that with a bowl of hot rice, he could easily eat three servings.

“This is remarkable,” he said between bites. “How is it made to smell and taste so good?”

Qi Beinan smiled faintly as he watched him enjoy it. “It’s made with tender bamboo shoots, mushrooms, pickled greens, and minced meat, stir-fried in rapeseed oil that doesn’t solidify in the cold. As for the exact spices, I’m not sure.”

“Looks simple, yet the craftsmanship is precise. Was it made by someone at home?” Jiang Tangyuan asked, genuinely impressed.

He was used to eating plain pickles on the road—usually out of necessity, never for pleasure. This, though, was another matter entirely.

“Yes,” Qi Beinan said. His voice softened. “It was made by my… husband.”

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly as he said it.

Zhao Guangzong glanced at him, amused, but said nothing.

Jiang Tangyuan’s brows arched in a smile. “No wonder you’ve been reluctant to open it—not just for the taste, but for the affection sealed inside.”

Qi Beinan lowered his gaze with a small laugh. “You’re teasing me.”

Jiang Tangyuan only laughed and urged them to try the saltwater duck and duck eggs in return.

The duck was lean and fragrant, the salted yolks golden and glistening with oil, rich and savory on the tongue.

Qi Beinan hadn’t tasted Jinling’s flavor in years. He ate several pieces of duck and two full salted eggs before stopping.

Jiang Tangyuan, pleased, took a small dish of the oil-pickled vegetables and sent it to his younger brother, Jiang Tangtuan, to share.

That night, Zhao Guangzong soaked his legs, swollen and heavy from long hours of sitting in the carriage.

The hot water rose past his ankles, and after fifteen minutes, he felt the fatigue melt away.

Knowing they would resume their journey at dawn, he decided to skip reading that night and go to bed early.

When Zhao Guangzong tried to stand, his stomach felt tight and full. The saltwater duck that Jiang Tangyuan had brought was too delicious; he had never tasted it before and ended up eating far too much. It was hearty meat, too, so even now he still felt stuffed.

The moonlight spilled across the window. The night outside seemed clear, and since he was too full to sleep, he thought he might as well walk around the post station courtyard to ease his digestion.

A few constables were still gathered outside, drinking and chatting by the gate. When they saw Zhao Guangzong step out, one of them called, “Sir, don’t wander too far.”

“I’ll just walk around the station,” he replied.

The moonlight was bright, though not as luminous as in midsummer nights. Still, it was the sixteenth of the month, and the moon hung round and full.

He circled the post station three times, and by the time he returned, his stomach had settled. The constables had already gone, leaving only an old woman tidying up the yard.

Just as he turned back toward his room, Zhao Guangzong looked up and saw someone standing on the upper gallery — Jiang Tangtuan.

He was wrapped in a hooded cloak of deep blue trimmed with white fur. The moonlight bathed him in a soft glow, his small, fine-featured face looking almost translucent under its silver sheen.

Perhaps he, too, was admiring the moon; his gaze rested quietly on the distant hills beneath the round disk of light.

Zhao Guangzong meant to look away, not wishing to disturb the stillness of the scene.

Just then, a breeze swept past. The plum tree beside the gallery shook loose its blossoms, petals scattering past Jiang Tangtuan’s shoulder.

Zhao Guangzong’s eyes lingered on him — just a heartbeat too long.

The person above must have noticed, for he lowered his gaze slightly. At that moment, the wind lifted the handkerchief in his hand, carrying it off the balcony.

The delicate square of silk drifted downward, caught in the air currents, and landed right against Zhao Guangzong’s chest. His body blocked the wind, and the handkerchief hovered there for a moment before softly settling.

He reached out to catch it.

When he looked up again, Jiang Tangtuan was leaning over the railing, a faint trace of tension in his posture as he looked down.

Their eyes met in the pale light, and neither spoke.

After a moment, a young servant — one of Jiang Tangyuan’s attendants — came down from the stairs to retrieve the handkerchief from Zhao Guangzong’s hands.

Back in his room, Zhao Guangzong found his mind still adrift.

He sat by the window, holding the memory of the silk in his palm — smooth, soft, and embroidered with lifelike bamboo leaves. A faint scent lingered on his fingers, light and clean, though he couldn’t name it.

It suited Jiang Tangtuan perfectly — quiet, refined, understated.

Lying down on his bed, Zhao Guangzong found his thoughts drifting again. Jiang Tangtuan truly spoke very little.

Since their journey began, they had barely exchanged a handful of words. Other than that polite greeting when first introduced, their meetings had been limited to brief nods, never a proper conversation.

At some point, Zhao Guangzong fell asleep without realizing it.

The next morning, everyone else was already finishing breakfast when he finally stirred.

Qi Beinan, seeing him come out, ladled him a bowl of porridge and handed him a steamed bun. “Didn’t sleep well at the inn? You’re usually the first one up.”

Zhao Guangzong accepted the food and shook his head. “No, I just overslept.”

It had felt as though he’d dreamed all night, yet awake now, he couldn’t recall a single image.

By the time Qi Beinan and his party reached the capital, thirteen days had passed since they left Ling County.

The imperial city was grand and dazzling — wealth and splendor at every turn, enough to make any scholar from the provinces straighten his back with renewed vigor.

Their fatigue melted away, replaced by awe and excitement.

The Jiang family had served in official posts for generations and still had relatives in the capital, so the brothers naturally had places to stay. They exchanged addresses and parted ways there.

Qi Beinan, though appearing to visit for the first time, knew his way around well enough. He led Zhao Guangzong to a district between the inner and outer city walls called Qiangwu Ward, where they found a small courtyard house to share.

Once they settled in, Qi Beinan immediately began writing a letter home, arranging for the courier to deliver it swiftly to Ling County.

He had originally planned to have Qin Jiang carry the letter back when returning, but since the man had only just arrived in the capital, it wouldn’t be fair to send him off again so soon. He’d let him rest for a few days before making the trip to fetch Xiao Yuanbao.

Meanwhile, back in Ling County, Xiao Yuanbao had already been counting the days on his fingers. By his reckoning, Qi Beinan should have reached the capital by now.

He began preparing the things he would take for his own journey.

Bai Qiaogui, visiting the house, couldn’t help feeling envious when she heard he was going to the capital. “He didn’t even mention bringing me. Doesn’t miss me at all.”

She bit into a piece of fruit pastry — sweet on her tongue but sour in her heart.

“Even if Luo Langjun wanted you to go,” Xiao Yuanbao said gently, “Uncle Bai would never allow it.”

Not knowing what the weather in the capital was like, Xiao Yuanbao couldn’t decide what clothes to pack. He picked out two of his favorites and set them aside, waiting for Qi Beinan’s letter before finalizing anything.

Bai Qiaogui asked curiously, “Since you two are engaged, have you set a wedding date yet?”

Xiao Yuanbao blinked. “Not yet. Probably not until next year.”

“This year’s exam will keep him busy, whether he passes or not,” Bai Qiaogui said knowingly.

Xiao Yuanbao nodded. That made sense.

“On the ninth, when the exam begins,” Bai Qiaogui suggested, “let’s go to the temple together to offer incense and pray for him. We can leave a little donation, too.”

“Alright,” Xiao Yuanbao agreed with a smile.

Bai Qiaogui agreed. By the time April arrived and the weather had warmed, more people were going out on spring outings, and it felt right to join the liveliness for a change.

“With spring coming, I wonder if Madam Feng’s health has improved any,” she said.

Xiao Yuanbao let out a quiet sigh. Madam Feng’s condition had hardly improved through the whole of last winter. When he’d visited, the entire house had smelled faintly of medicinal decoction, heavy in the air, enough to make anyone worry.

“I’m free today—let’s go visit her,” Bai Qiaogui suggested. Madam Feng had taught Xiao Yuanbao cooking and had always treated him well. Each time he visited, he would bring her something tasty and sometimes small, rare gifts.

Xiao Yuanbao agreed readily and, before leaving, prepared a pot of chicken soup on the stove.

Madam Feng’s liver had been unwell. Bai Qiaogui had once told him that dendrobium and polygonatum were good for nourishing the liver. He thought that since Madam Feng took bitter medicine day after day, even the most tolerant person would tire of the taste. To make something she could enjoy, he stewed black-bone chicken with those two herbs and added some dried orange peel for fragrance.

He had checked with Sister Gui to make sure it wouldn’t weaken the medicinal effect—and that it would still taste good when cooked this way.

“The flavor is deep and soothing,” Madam Feng said after tasting it. “Even knowing it’s medicine, I’d gladly have more.”

The herbal black-chicken soup had brought color to her cheeks. Smiling, she praised Xiao Yuanbao: “You thoughtful child—always finding ways to look after me. The medicinal dishes you brought through the winter truly did me good.”

Xiao Yuanbao said, “You flatter me, Madam Feng. I’m just happy to know you’re feeling better.”

“I’m not just saying it to please you,” she replied. “Your cooking is good—so good it makes the medicine easy to take. It tastes like a real meal, not a bitter draft, and that’s what’s nursed me back to health.”

She patted his hand. “This winter wasn’t nearly as hard as the last. Look—my complexion has evened out again.”

It was true. Madam Feng did look much better.

“That’s also thanks to Sister Gui,” Xiao Yuanbao said. “She’s the one who taught me which herbs to use. Without her, I’d never have figured out how to make these medicinal dishes.”

“You’re both good children,” Madam Feng said warmly.

After finishing the soup, she led them inside and took out two red lacquered boxes with gold trim, giving one to each.

When Xiao Yuanbao opened his, he found a delicate enamel mirror inside. He had never seen such fine workmanship—the reflection so sharp that every feature of his face stood out as if alive.

Bai Qiaogui’s box held a filigreed silver hairpin shaped like a dragonfly, its craftsmanship exquisite.

The gifts were so fine that neither dared accept them.

“I know you two are engaged,” Madam Feng said with a smile. “These are small tokens from an elder—take them.”

She pushed the boxes toward them. “It’s only a little gift for well-behaved juniors.”

They exchanged glances, then thanked her and accepted.

“The men you’re engaged to are both scholars,” Madam Feng went on. “They have fine prospects ahead—such good fortune.”

She was truly pleased for them, but as an older woman, she couldn’t resist offering a bit of advice. “I’ve lived long enough to tell you this—after marriage, don’t rely entirely on your husbands. You must find something of your own to do.”

Turning to Bai Qiaogui, she said, “You, I don’t worry about. Your medical skills are excellent—such talent will always bring you stability. As long as you keep up your craft after marriage, you’ll have your own standing, wherever you go.”

Then she looked at Xiao Yuanbao. “And you—you’re an ambitious child. You came to me to learn for the sake of skill, and that’s admirable. I’ve met your Qi Langjun a few times—handsome, intelligent, and steady. He’ll have a great future, I can see it. I’ve met many people in my life; I’m not mistaken about this sort.”

“When he becomes an official one day, though, it wouldn’t suit his household for his spouse to still be cooking at banquets. Among the gentry, people talk—even more than common folk do. They might praise an official’s husband who’s good at cuisine, but just as quickly, they’ll whisper that the official’s spouse is a common kitchen hand.”

She paused. “I know your bond is deep, but hearing such words again and again can wear on any heart.”

Xiao Yuanbao listened quietly. He knew she was right.

Ever since his A’nan brother had passed the county exam, people’s behavior around him had begun to change. Running banquets for work already made him feel a little embarrassed—if Qi Beinan were to rise even higher, become a jinshi, it would be another world entirely.

A “Qi official’s husband skilled in fine dishes” sounded like praise. But a “Qi official’s husband who works as a cook” did not.

Seeing his silence, Madam Feng said gently, “Don’t think I’m meddling. I’m saying this while your affection is still strong—so you can prepare your heart early.”

Xiao Yuanbao shook his head. “No, Madam Feng speaks very wisely.”

“I’ve learned many dishes under you,” he continued. “Enough to take on private banquets. If I wanted, families would be fighting to hire me. But I haven’t pursued it. Partly because the household’s been busy—and partly because, deep down, it didn’t feel right.”

With Qi Beinan gone to the capital, he’d had quiet days to reflect. And the more he thought about his own path, the more he realized how much he still had to figure out.

“I’ve trained in this craft since I was a child,” Xiao Yuanbao said. “If I stop cooking for banquets, wouldn’t all those years of learning be wasted?”

He felt conflicted.

Madam Feng smiled. “No skill is ever wasted. Knowing a craft is always a blessing. Even if you don’t cook for others, there will be other ways to use your talent.”

“You could open a small restaurant or a teahouse. When the owner knows food, business runs smoother.”

“There’s still a shop under your family’s name, isn’t there? Turning it into a dining house would be perfectly fine.”

He could hire chefs and oversee the operation himself—plan the menu, manage the quality, without standing over the stove. That way, no one would have reason to gossip.

But even then, the plan had its flaws.

If his elder brother achieved high office, he would never stay in Ling County. How would Xiao Yuanbao manage a business so far away?

Still, once the shop was established and running steadily, it wouldn’t need constant supervision. That would take at least a year or two, though.

Uncertain of what to do, he turned to Madam Feng for advice.

The old woman said gently, “Take your time. Learn about the trade first—how restaurants and taverns are run. Once you understand the business, you’ll know the right path to take.”

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

In the second month, Xiao Yuanbao celebrated his birthday, and before long, the calendar had turned to the third month.

Spring came late that year. Throughout the second month, rain fell almost daily, the sun rarely showed, and the chill clung to every breath. By early March, only the outskirts of the city had begun to show faint green across the grass, and the peach and apricot trees were just beginning to bud.

The imperial metropolitan exam would begin on the ninth day of the fourth month. As soon as the third month arrived, scholars preparing to take part were already making ready to depart.

Ling County lay far from the capital. Even with fair weather and smooth roads, the journey by carriage and horse would take more than ten days—half a month, at least, when accounting for the inevitable delays. Translated on Hololo novels. Upon arrival, candidates still needed time to find lodgings and familiarize themselves with the city.

The air and customs of the capital differed greatly from those of Ling County. The northern climate was dry, unlike the humid southern lands near Ling. Many students, unaccustomed to the change, would fall ill from the difference in water and food.

If one did not arrive early to adjust, even a simple stomach illness could ruin one’s performance. Worse still, the latrines in the examination compound were infamously inconvenient; those struck with dysentery from poor adaptation suffered miserably.

Qi Beinan explained all this to Zhao Guangzong, urging him to make his preparations early. The two decided to travel together to the capital.

There were few candidates from Ling County eligible to sit for the metropolitan exam that year. Among them, Qi Beinan knew only a handful from the county academy. Of the other three elder scholars who had passed the provincial exam, he was not acquainted and did not plan to join them. There was also Luo Tingfeng, who had his own arrangements.

Thus, only Qi Beinan and Zhao Guangzong would make the journey together.

Traveling in a small group had its conveniences. Safety was not a great concern this time—after the unrest during the autumn examinations, the authorities had doubled the number of guards and patrol officers along the main roads and post stations from the first month until the end of the fourth. Any would-be bandits targeting scholars would be walking straight into a trap.

Moreover, Qi Beinan planned to bring Qin Jiang along. With the young man’s fighting skills, the journey would be all the more secure.

By the first day of the third month, Xiao Yuanbao had already begun preparing Qi Beinan’s belongings for the journey. The departure was set for the fifth day.

“Though the road to the capital is long,” Xiao Yuanbao said while folding clothes, “it’s not so bad this time. The government provides official carriages for scholars and even gives travel stipends.”

That morning, the county office had sent a carriage to their gate. It wasn’t large, but perfectly suitable for one traveler. A county banner fluttered from its frame—anyone who saw it would know it was an official examination carriage, dignified and commanding.

Along with it came a stipend of ten strings of cash.

Frugal as they were, even that wouldn’t fully cover the expenses of the journey, but it was something. Better to have a little than none at all.

“If you pass the palace exam and become a jinshi, you’ll be a disciple of the Son of Heaven himself,” Xiao Yuanbao said softly. “I can’t even imagine what that will be like.”

Qi Beinan looked at the young man bending over the chest, sorting garments. The cabinet in his room was tall, and Xiao Yuanbao had to rise on his toes to reach the folded robes at the top shelf.

Qi Beinan stepped closer.

Xiao Yuanbao caught sight of a pair of long, slender hands reaching into the wardrobe beside him, brushing past his neck. When he turned his head, he nearly bumped Qi Beinan’s chin and quickly leaned back—only to press up against the bookcase behind him.

Qi Beinan didn’t withdraw. He leaned forward, eyes lowering as he looked at the young man trapped between his arms. “Do you like the idea of being a disciple of the Son of Heaven?”

Xiao Yuanbao blinked. He didn’t answer, only glanced at Qi Beinan’s slightly dry lips and, almost involuntarily, gave a small nod.

Qi Beinan’s voice dropped to a low murmur. “Then tell me—do you prefer the first-ranked zhuangyuan, admired by all? The calm, dignified bangyan? Or the elegant, graceful tanhua?”

The quiet, steady tone slid into Xiao Yuanbao’s ears, making them burn red. Qi Beinan’s voice had lost the boyish timbre of youth, deepening with maturity—smooth and magnetic, stirring something hard to name.

Unable to meet his gaze, Xiao Yuanbao turned his head slightly. “You speak as if it depends on my choice.”

Qi Beinan lowered his head further, moving closer still. “It’s only talk between us. There’s no harm in saying what you like.”

Xiao Yuanbao flushed, flustered by such teasing, and tried to slip away. But the arm caging him in front of the wardrobe didn’t move.

“I still need to finish packing your things,” he murmured.

“Say it first. There’s no rush.”

Seeing he couldn’t escape, Xiao Yuanbao relented with a sigh. “They’re all good. I’m not picky.”

Qi Beinan chuckled softly. “So easy to please? You could stand to be a little choosier.”

Xiao Yuanbao pursed his lips. “As long as it’s Brother Anan, I like them all.”

A smile touched Qi Beinan’s mouth. He reached out to straighten the young man’s collar. “I’ll be gone at least two months. Once I settle in the capital, I’ll send Qin Jiang back to bring you there. All right?”

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes flickered. He had already calculated the time in his head. The trip alone would take half a month each way. The exam itself lasted nine days, plus another ten for results to be posted. Two months, easily—and if Qi Beinan passed and entered the palace exam in the fifth month, it would be even longer.

When Qi Beinan had gone to Linzhou for the provincial exam, they had been apart barely a month. This time, the separation would feel endless.

The closer the examination drew, the more uneasy Xiao Yuanbao felt.

But he couldn’t bring himself to say that he didn’t want Qi Beinan to go. The metropolitan exam was an important event—how could he, already nearly grown, show such childish reluctance? He’d be eighteen by his next birthday. He wasn’t a boy anymore.

Still, when he heard Qi Beinan mention that he planned to bring him to the capital later, his heart leapt.

“I can go to the capital too?” he asked, eyes lighting up.

Qi Beinan smiled. “Mm.”

Seeing the eagerness on his face, Qi Beinan went on, “If I pass the jinshi exam, there will be plenty of matters to delay me—ceremonies, assignments, all of it. If you’re in the capital, I’ll have one less worry. And if I don’t pass, well, you’ve never left Ling County. Seeing the capital’s sights and broadening your horizons will still be worth the trip.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s excitement swelled, but he held himself back enough to ask sensibly, “Wouldn’t I just be a bother?”

“How could you be?” Qi Beinan replied. “Once I arrange the carriage and horses, it’ll be no trouble. I’ll have Qin Jiang travel the road first to learn the route well.”

Qi Beinan didn’t like the idea of Xiao Yuanbao traveling alone, but after witnessing Qin Jiang’s skills, he felt reassured. By the time Qin Jiang returned to fetch Xiao Yuanbao, he would know the journey by heart.

Seeing that Qi Beinan had truly thought everything through, Xiao Yuanbao’s joy grew even greater. He grasped Qi Beinan’s arm. “All right. I’ll do as you say.”

Once he knew he could go to the capital, Xiao Yuanbao’s smile never seemed to fade. He packed with cheerful energy, practically humming as he worked.

On the fourth day of the third month, Xiao Hu came to the city to stay the night so he could see Qi Beinan off the next morning.

He had expected Xiao Yuanbao to be gloomy about the farewell, perhaps withdrawn or quiet. Instead, he found the boy busy and beaming, helping Qi Beinan prepare a table full of his favorite dishes, the air full of laughter. It was almost festive.

Xiao Hu was puzzled. He had worried that Xiao Yuanbao would feel lonely once Qi Beinan left for the capital and had planned to bring him back to the estate for a couple of months—after all, the manor was livelier than an empty city house. But seeing the boy’s bright face now, he realized his worries had been unnecessary.

The morning of the fifth dawned cold and drizzly. They had planned to escort Qi Beinan to the city gate, but the early spring rain came with a biting wind. Even holding umbrellas, the chill seeped into their bones.

So Qi Beinan and Zhao Guangzong decided not to have their families follow them beyond the outskirts. They said their farewells on the main road outside Dongyang Street.

“It won’t be long,” Qi Beinan told Xiao Yuanbao. “You’ll stay here for about a month, and by then Qin Jiang will have reached Ling County to fetch you.”

Xiao Yuanbao nodded. “I know. Once you’re on your way, I’ll start getting ready, so I’ll be packed when he comes.”

Because he would soon be following Qi Beinan to the capital himself, the farewell wasn’t quite as heavy. His heart, instead of aching, brimmed with anticipation.

Still, he fussed a little—reminding Qi Beinan to take his time on the road, to keep warm and not catch cold.

He still remembered the early autumn two years ago when a rainstorm had left Qi Beinan bedridden with fever for days.

Xiao Hu didn’t interrupt them, giving the young pair space to say their goodbyes. He simply pulled Qin Jiang aside and said quietly, “Take good care of your master on the road.”

Qin Jiang, whose face had long since healed, stood straight and strong with a bundle on his back, his spirit bright. Though he had traveled across Ling County many times as part of the escort bureau, he had never been to the capital, and the thought of it filled him with eager anticipation.

He patted his chest confidently. “Don’t worry, sir.”

The Zhao family elders had also come to the city to see Zhao Guangzong off.

The matter with the Yang family still weighed on their hearts. Zhao Lizheng and Madam Zhang had felt guilty for weeks—none of them had been at ease.

“The most important thing is to travel safely,” Zhao Lizheng said. “With young Qi accompanying you, your mother and I can rest easy.”

Madam Zhang stood beside her son, fussing over his clothes, afraid he might catch a chill.

“This isn’t my first trip for the exams,” Zhao Guangzong said with a small smile. “I know what to do. You and Mother should take care of yourselves and not work too hard.”

Hearing that, Zhao Lizheng exhaled slowly. “It was your mother and I who mishandled the matter with the Yangs. You’re grown now—we won’t interfere in your affairs anymore.”

He gave a faint, rueful smile. “Your mother and I are just farmers. Our way of thinking doesn’t match yours. The Zhao family’s future rests on you.”

“Father, that’s not what I meant,” Zhao Guangzong said quickly. “I don’t blame you or Mother. The Yangs and I simply weren’t meant to be. Marriage, like the examinations, rarely succeeds on the first try.”

“I know,” Zhao Lizheng replied quietly. “Your mother and I have thought it over—we really didn’t handle things as well as we should have.”

“Let’s leave it in the past,” he said at last. “Focus on your exam and don’t let anything distract you.”

“I won’t.”

From down the road, Qi Beinan called, “Guangzong, the time’s about up. Ready to go?”

Zhao Guangzong startled, then called back, “Coming!”

He turned to his parents. “It’s cold out here. Go back home before the wind makes you sick.”

“Go on,” Zhao Lizheng said. “Travel safe.”

Zhao Guangzong lifted his umbrella and crossed to Qi Beinan’s carriage.

As he passed, Qi Beinan grinned teasingly. “How old are you now, still clinging to your parents like a child?”

Zhao Guangzong gave a helpless laugh.

“I swear,” Qi Beinan added, “it feels like time’s gone backward. It’s as if you’re ten again, heading off for your first children’s exam. Lift your head—let me see if your eyes are red.”

Zhao Guangzong’s ears turned slightly red from Qi Beinan’s teasing. Rather than respond, he countered, “Strange—this trip will keep you away for months, yet Bao-ge’er hardly spoke to you before you left.”

Then, with a smirk, he added, “Could it be he’s grown tired of you and just wants you gone sooner?”

Qi Beinan chuckled. “It’s raining out. I couldn’t bear for him to stand there catching cold, so I got into the carriage quickly.”

Zhao Guangzong pressed his lips into a line, shaking his head. “Then it’s I who asked too much.”

They exchanged a few more jests like that, and the heaviness of parting grew lighter between them.

The carriage wheels began to turn, rolling over the wet cobblestones. The drizzle thickened, and the main street lay almost deserted—melancholy and quiet, but smooth for travel.

Xiao Yuanbao waved until the carriage disappeared completely from sight, only then lowering his hand.

Rain misted down; the wind cut cold against his cheeks. He wanted to stand there longer, but the three elders with him were all of advanced age. Though he was young and sturdy, he couldn’t let them shiver in the damp wind for his sentiment’s sake.

So he turned and urged the Zhao elders to head home with him.

When they reached the fork where the alley split toward their respective homes, they said their goodbyes.

As they walked, Xiao Hu suddenly said, “Did Anan mention your marriage?”

Careful not to step into a puddle, Xiao Yuanbao turned his head. “Father, you’ve forgotten again? Didn’t we already make things clear last year?”

“You silly boy,” Xiao Hu said. “I meant—did he say when the marriage would actually happen?”

Xiao Yuanbao froze for a moment. In truth, they hadn’t spoken of that yet. Both knew of the betrothal, and both had confessed their feelings, but as for arranging the wedding, he—being a young ge’er—was too shy to bring it up himself. It would be better for Qi Beinan to say it first.

“He’s been so busy since passing the provincial exam,” Xiao Yuanbao said after a pause. “There’s hardly been time to think about marriage. Don’t worry, Father. He’s not the kind to forget his promises or turn his back for gain.”

If Qi Beinan had wanted to seek someone of higher status now that he was a juren, he wouldn’t have openly told the Yang family that he was already engaged. He wouldn’t have let others know he was betrothed, nor suggested bringing Xiao Yuanbao to the capital later.

“I know what sort of man Anan is,” Xiao Hu said. “I just don’t want you two to delay too long. He’s twenty-two now. Most men his age in the village already have two children. When will I ever hold a grandchild?”

Xiao Yuanbao’s cheeks flushed. His brows drew together. “Father, what are you saying? We haven’t even set a date, and you’re already talking about grandchildren? Aren’t you embarrassed?”

“If you’d just fix a date for the wedding,” Xiao Hu muttered, “there’d be nothing to be embarrassed about.”

He exhaled heavily. “You two are still young—you can afford to dawdle. But I’m not. These past two years, I’ve felt my age catching up to me. My head spins, my back aches. A few more years, and I might not even have the strength to hold a grandchild.”

Xiao Yuanbao pursed his lips. His father was usually so strong and proud—yet here he was, feigning frailty just to urge him into marriage and grandchildren.

“If you’re not feeling well, I’ll fetch a doctor,” Xiao Yuanbao said at once.

His father waved him off.

Still, Xiao Yuanbao went on, “Though I think if you drank a little less wine, you wouldn’t have those dizzy spells.”

“Listen to you!” Xiao Hu huffed, half scolding, half amused. “Since when did you grow such a sharp tongue?”

Xiao Yuanbao made a small noise of protest and fell silent, following his father back into the house.

A short while later, Xiao Hu heard his son mutter from behind, “Then—then maybe when Brother Anan comes back, Father can test the waters and ask him?”

Hearing that, Xiao Hu smiled inwardly. So his son was anxious too, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

He said, “You’ll be heading to the capital yourself next month. Ask him then—no need to wait until he’s back in Ling County. Who knows when that’ll be?”

Xiao Yuanbao thought that over and found it reasonable. Still, he turned away and grumbled, ducking his head. “I’m not asking. I’ll wait for him to bring it up first.”

With that, he quickened his pace and retreated into his room.

Two days later, Xiao Hu returned to the estate.

At the end of last year, they had begun clearing new land beyond the mountain forest and hired several more tenant farmers. With the expanded fields and extra hands, he no longer needed to toil in the soil himself.

Still, spring planting was the busiest time of year, and he couldn’t rest easy unless he was there to oversee things.

The steward had also suggested that, with a mountain forest now in their possession, they could plant fruit trees—an orchard would yield far more profit than simply cutting firewood.

Xiao Hu agreed and began looking into buying saplings to plant.

Left alone in the city house, Xiao Yuanbao grew bored. After a few days, he decided to visit the Ming family.

“My good boy, you actually remembered I exist?” Ming Guanxin greeted him with mock ferocity, though his grin was wide.

Xiao Yuanbao, knowing he was at fault, gave a sheepish smile. It was true—he hadn’t visited in quite some time.

“I’ve just been busy lately,” he said. “But the moment I had a free day, I thought of you first. See? I even brought your favorite chicken and duck offal.”

“You weren’t busy,” Ming Guanxin retorted. “You were glued to Qi-langjun’s side and couldn’t get away. Now that he’s left the county, only then do you remember your friends.”

Xiao Yuanbao blushed to the tips of his ears.

Ming Guanxin looked at Xiao Yuanbao’s flustered face and laughed. “I can’t really blame you. If I had such a fine gentleman for a fiancé, I wouldn’t want to go out and play either.”

“Don’t tease me,” Xiao Yuanbao protested.

He reached out to tug Ming Guanxin’s arm in mock complaint, but when his hand brushed against him, he paused, eyes widening. “You’ve lost weight! Have you not been eating properly since I stopped bringing you food these days?”

Instead of worrying, Ming Guanxin looked delighted. “You really think I’ve slimmed down?”

Xiao Yuanbao gave him a careful look and nodded. “Your face looks the same, but your figure’s definitely thinner.”

Ming Guanxin grinned from ear to ear. “Then my effort hasn’t been for nothing!”

Xiao Yuanbao frowned in puzzlement. “What effort? Why on earth are you putting yourself through that?”

Lowering his voice, Ming Guanxin leaned close to his ear. “My family has been in talks with another household—if all goes well, a match will be set.”

He added quickly, “It’s not settled yet, so you mustn’t spread it around. I only told you because you’re my friend. Anyone else, I wouldn’t breathe a word.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes lit up. “That’s wonderful news! Don’t worry, I know how to keep quiet.”

His curiosity rose. “So who is it? Do I know the gentleman?”

“I don’t know if you do,” Ming Guanxin said, dropping his voice even lower. “But he’s from Ling County too.”

Then, smiling a little mischievously, he added, “He’s actually here today—he’s in the main hall talking with my father right now. Do you want to sneak a look?”

Xiao Yuanbao hesitated. “Wouldn’t that be rude?”

“It’s fine. There’s a side room connected to the hall through the back garden. We can peek from behind the screen—they’ll never notice.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s heart thumped with both guilt and excitement. He wasn’t used to such sneaky business, and it reminded him of stealing peaches back home as a child.

Ming Guanxin dismissed the servants, and the two slipped through the back garden into the small side chamber beside the main hall.

A calm, clear male voice drifted from beyond the screen. “No one in the city runs a better cloth business than you, Uncle Ming.”

“My father always says,” replied another voice—Ming Guanxin’s father, “that few men in trade truly impress him, but you are one. He admires your skill and your talent for connections. He tells us juniors to learn from your example.”

The voice was unfamiliar to Xiao Yuanbao—steady, polite, and refined.

Ming Guanxin tugged him slightly to one side. Through a narrow gap in the screen, Xiao Yuanbao saw the man sitting across from Ming Guanxin’s father.

He was fair-skinned, with peach-blossom eyes and an elegant bearing that could almost outshine the light in the room.

Xiao Yuanbao blinked, stunned. When he turned to look at Ming Guanxin, his friend’s eyes were gleaming—a kind of brightness Xiao Yuanbao had only ever seen when food was especially to his taste.

“Well?” Ming Guanxin whispered eagerly once they’d crept back out to the garden. “Handsome, isn’t he?”

Xiao Yuanbao nodded earnestly. “Extremely handsome.”

“He’s the young master from Xiangyun Manor—Mu Langjun.”

“Mu Langjun?” Xiao Yuanbao recalled. “I’ve seen him once from afar. When Xiangyun Manor first brought the Wan Yue silk to market, everyone—brothers and sisters alike—flocked to see him.”

He chuckled softly. “I remember my brother even got jealous back then, scolding me over nothing. Took ages to coax him out of it.”

Then, surprised, he said, “But I saw your father and the Mu family’s master quarreling in the market that time. I thought your families didn’t get along.”

“Ah, merchants compete. A bit of rivalry and posturing—it’s all part of the trade.” Ming Guanxin waved it off. “The Mu family’s been trying to secure a supply of Wan Yue silk without success. They want to form a marriage alliance with us, to share in the profits.”

“And you agreed?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Ming Guanxin shrugged. “Father said if the marriage works out, he’ll hand me the business. It’s partnership and inheritance both—it makes everything more secure.”

He smiled, almost boyishly. “And after all, you saw him yourself. Mu Langjun’s looks are enough to make anyone agree. I’m not losing out.”

Xiao Yuanbao laughed. “That’s exactly what a merchant’s son would say—practical first, feelings later. But so long as you like him, that’s what truly matters.”

Ming Guanxin looked up at the sky, a faint wistfulness in his expression. “Bao-ge’er, you weren’t born into a merchant family. You wouldn’t understand—our lives revolve around one word: profit. We live well because of it, but we also have to protect it.”

“For families like ours, marriages aren’t made for love. If the match happens to please both sides, that’s a blessing worth thanking heaven for. Fortunately, my father dotes on me, and my mother is strong-minded enough to shield me in this big household. So even when they marry me for advantage, they’ll make sure it isn’t a poor match.”

Xiao Yuanbao pressed his lips together, thinking that every kind of family carried its own burdens.

Seeing his friend’s faint melancholy, he patted the back of Ming Guanxin’s hand. “At least this time fortune’s smiling on you, Xin-ge’er.”

Ming Guanxin gave a half-laugh, half-sigh. “I just worry that even if Mu Langjun agrees out of duty to his parents, he won’t truly be pleased with me.”

“You mustn’t lose heart,” Xiao Yuanbao said gently. “Affection takes time. Even I—Anan and I have been promised since childhood, grew up together, yet our path wasn’t without twists either.”

Ming Guanxin smiled. “Hearing that from you makes me feel much more at ease.”

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

When Zhao Guangzong left Qi Beinan’s residence, the hour was already late.

He walked slowly through the alley, where a thin layer of new snow had just fallen, reflecting the faint glow of lanterns ahead. His thoughts drifted as he went. Life, he mused, was never smooth for anyone.

Even someone as steady and prudent as Qi Beinan could still find himself caught in sudden troubles. Yet if one possessed Qi Beinan’s composure and ability, even misfortune held little to fear.

In dealing with people and the world, Zhao felt he was still like a child—he would do well to observe more and learn from Qi Beinan’s example.

Seeing the lighted lanterns down the street, he decided the night was not too far gone. He would stop by home, then read a while in his study before bed.

“Out so late in this cold? Where’ve you been?”

When Zhao reached his home, he was surprised to find his father and mother had come into town. Joy warmed his face at the sight of them.

“There was a lawsuit at A’nan’s house,” he said, meaning Qi Beinan. “I went to see how things turned out.”

Village Head Zhao nodded knowingly. The two boys had been close since childhood, and their friendship had only deepened through years of study together. Both families were pleased with the bond.

Their visits between town and village had grown frequent, and Zhao’s father often dealt with Steward Xiao as well.

He asked about the case and, hearing that all had ended well, sighed with relief. “That boy’s a capable one—he’s always made people feel at ease.”

Zhao Guangzong agreed, then asked, “But what brings you both here in this weather, so late?”

At that, his father smiled broadly. “Your mother and I brought some things. Come see if they please you.”

Curious, Zhao looked out and saw that they had come by ox cart, with a large hemp sack loaded in the back.

Inside were winter-cured delicacies—ducks and hens stretched open with bamboo sticks, long strips of dried fish, and thick cuts of glossy pork belly.

When he opened the sack, a rich fragrance rose—pinewood smoke and fruit peel mingled with the savory scent of cured meat.

“These are wonderful,” Zhao said, delighted. “I’ll take some to A’nan—they’ll think it’s delicious too.”

His mother, Madam Zhang, laughed. “Fragrant, isn’t it? We smoked them with pine branches and orange peel—freshly made this winter month. The chickens and ducks were just right—not too fat, not too lean. You can steam them and eat them right away.”

Village Head Zhao said, “Before you bring any to the Qi household, pack some neatly in a box. Line the bottom with a clean cloth and send them to Master Yang’s family—let your future father-in-law taste our country cooking.”

Madam Zhang quickly added, “I also got some dried mushrooms from the Xiao family. Seal them in the box too and send it as a New Year gift to Master Yang. Those mushrooms are rare in town—he’s sure to appreciate them.”

At that, Zhao Guangzong felt a pang of unease.

“Just last month we sent a whole cart of smokeless coal,” he said quietly. “Then two bolts of silk, and this month three more deliveries. Now this again—it’s starting to feel excessive.”

His father’s neck stiffened. “You foolish boy. The Yangs may have shown interest, but there’s been no formal proposal or betrothal. Nothing’s settled yet.”

“This is still a test—for you, and for our family. Courtesy never offends. The Yangs stand above us in rank; all the more reason for us to show diligence and respect. It’ll help put the Education Commissioner’s mind at ease.”

His mother nodded. “He’s right. Who goes through the New Year without exchanging gifts?”

Zhao Guangzong said nothing, his chest heavy with mixed feelings.

…

At the Yang residence.

“More gifts from them again?”

Late in the morning, Yang Xu was sitting at his dressing table when a cheerful servant came running in. “Young Master Zhao has brought another box.”

“He’s in the main hall speaking with the master now,” the servant added.

“Should I go greet him, young master?” the boy asked.

Yang Xu replied coolly, “The engagement hasn’t been settled—what would I be doing chasing after him?”

He still remembered the embarrassment of his bold visit to Qi Beinan before; it had been quite the scene. Translated on Hololo novels. Thankfully, Qi Beinan was a discreet man and hadn’t spread the story.

Who knew what kind of temperament Zhao Guangzong had? Best not to make him think the marriage was already certain.

By the time Yang Xu finished tidying himself, Zhao had already left.

He went to his father’s study. “What did they bring this time?”

Yang Xuezheng said, “Some home-cured meats—chicken, fish, duck, that sort of thing.”

Yang Xu sniffed lightly. “Smells rather nice.”

Though the Yang family held office, they weren’t particularly wealthy or business-minded. Much of their funds had gone toward securing official connections for Yang Dalang, leaving the household a bit strained.

Such gifts—simple cured meats—were hardly beneath them.

“These dried mushrooms are rare,” Yang Xuezheng said. “Pack them up neatly; they’ll make a good gift when we pay our respects elsewhere.”

Yang Xu lifted a handful, inhaled their earthy scent, and said, “For a farming family, the Zhaos seem quite well-off. They’ve sent so many things these past two months.”

A whole cart of smokeless coal at the start of winter—worth a good sum. Then two bolts of fine crescent-moon silk. And now, though these were ordinary goods, the sheer number of deliveries added up to something significant.

Yang Xuezheng showed no sign of pleasure at receiving the gifts. He said to Yang Xu, “Their home isn’t very large. If you do marry him, he’ll need to buy a new house—something fit for a couple.”

Yang Xu replied, “If he becomes an official, he surely won’t be stationed in Ling County. If I marry him, I’ll have to go wherever he’s assigned. A house here would just sit empty. As long as there’s a place to stay when we visit, that’s enough.”

“You’re already speaking in his favor,” said his father with mild irritation. “A few gifts and you’re swayed so easily.”

Yang Xuezheng shook his head. “All the gifts in the world can’t compare to a good examination rank. Instead of currying favor with trinkets, he’d do better to spend his energy writing a few more essays.”

He was still dissatisfied that Zhao Guangzong had barely scraped onto the provincial examination list. Such a ranking smacked of luck; there was little chance he’d achieve anything notable in the upcoming metropolitan exam.

Though Yang Xuezheng didn’t expect him to win the title of jinshi, he still hoped Zhao could at least earn a respectable score—it would make it easier to secure a post through patronage later.

Yang Xu didn’t argue further. If he did, his father would only go on criticizing Zhao’s every flaw, which always left him feeling bitter and trapped.

Inwardly, he wondered, If Zhao Guangzong is truly so unimpressive, why must I be the one to marry him at all? The thought stirred quiet resentment. Better not to marry than to marry unwillingly.

---

By the first lunar month, banquets filled every household.

Xiao Yuanbao hadn’t even managed a trip back to his village yet—the city feasts alone kept him eating day after day.

One morning, while dressing, he pinched his own stomach and frowned. “I swear it’s getting rounder again.”

All winter he had been wrapped in thick clothes; any extra softness hid easily beneath the layers. But at night, when he changed into lighter garments, the truth was clear—his figure had grown noticeably fuller.

He fretted quietly. I’m not even married yet. If I get too round, won’t I look terrible in my wedding robes?

“You’re still growing,” Qi Beinan said from across the table, watching him cover his bowl to block another serving. “You’re not fat. A bit of flesh in winter keeps the cold away.”

Xiao Yuanbao refused the braised pork—one of Madam Liu’s best dishes.

“Spring will come soon,” he said. “When I shed these winter clothes, I’ll still have the weight. What then?”

Seeing his gentle coaxing fail, Qi Beinan sighed and popped the piece of pork into his own mouth. “Then let me get fat instead. I don’t mind. Either way, fat or not, I’m still yours. Why starve yourself over appearances?”

Xiao Yuanbao’s face flushed. “If you eat it, I won’t either.”

“What a heartless boy,” Qi Beinan said with mock injury.

Just then, Tie Nan came hurrying in. “Zhao Guangzong is here.”

“Perfect timing,” Qi Beinan said. “Has he eaten? Tell him to join us.”

“I asked,” Tie Nan replied. “He says he’ll wait in the side hall—looks like he has something urgent.”

Qi Beinan’s brows drew together slightly. He set down his chopsticks. “Keep eating,” he told Xiao Yuanbao. “I’ll go see what’s wrong.”

But Xiao Yuanbao also put down his bowl. “I’ll come too.”

Qi Beinan didn’t object. They went together.

---

“I’m disturbing your meal,” Zhao said the moment they entered the side hall. He looked pale and restless, like a man clutching at his last bit of composure. Seeing Qi Beinan felt like finding an anchor in a storm.

“It’s all right,” Qi Beinan said. “Calm yourself. What happened?”

Zhao took a breath. “Since passing the provincial exam, merchants and farmers have been calling at my home one after another, hoping to be taken under my name. Last month, I accepted a merchant surnamed Dou as a retainer. The smokeless coal I sent you—it came from his trade.”

Qi Beinan nodded. He remembered the gift; Xiao Yuanbao had even joked that Zhao must have struck gold to afford such fine coal. At the time, Qi Beinan had simply assumed the Zhao family had found new business connections and hadn’t asked further.

“Has something happened with this merchant?” he asked.

Zhao’s tone grew anxious. “The county office just received a lawsuit. Someone’s accused Dou of monopolizing trade and using violence to settle a dispute—he even broke another man’s leg.”

“Worse,” Zhao continued, “Dou hasn’t apologized or paid compensation. He’s been boasting that he has powerful backing and fears no court.”

Qi Beinan immediately understood. “So he’s been using your name to act with impunity. And now the victims have filed charges against both him and you?”

Zhao nodded quickly. “Exactly. The county notified me this morning, asking if I personally know the man.”

Qi Beinan frowned. “When you accepted him, was there a written contract?”

“There was,” Zhao said grimly. “That’s what makes it worse. If it had only been a verbal promise, I could deny it—but with a signed contract, there’s no escaping the connection.”

Qi Beinan’s face darkened. That meant the merchant truly belonged to Zhao’s household in legal standing.

Zhao’s voice shook with frustration. “No one in our family has ever been dragged into a lawsuit before, and now it’s over an outsider! I don’t even know what to do!”

“It’s my own fault,” Zhao Guangzong said bitterly. “When I first passed the provincial exam, you warned me not to be swayed by merchants offering gifts. You said that while it might seem profitable at first, there’s no such thing as a free meal—whatever benefits I take today, I’ll pay back double tomorrow. I was truly foolish.”

The matter was already done, and Qi Beinan knew there was no use in blame. He asked instead, “It isn’t uncommon for scholars to take merchants or farmers under protection—many see it as one of the privileges of passing the exams. If there were no advantages, why else would so many crave the title of juren? When I warned you, it wasn’t to demand total refusal—it was to tell you to investigate carefully before accepting anyone. How did such a man slip through your gate?”

“This one was recommended by my father,” Zhao Guangzong said, his voice thick with regret. “He said the Dou family were honest and hardworking merchants who had long been bullied by those under powerful protection—shops they wanted were taken, and deals they’d negotiated were stolen away. They only wanted an official’s backing so they could do fair business in peace. My father knew them a little and, after hearing I’d passed the exam, agreed to bring them to me.”

“I had no intention of sheltering merchants,” Zhao Guangzong went on miserably. “The Zhao family isn’t rich, but we manage well enough.”

His face went pale, and his voice turned bitter. “But my father thought that since the Education Commissioner favors me and might want me as a son-in-law, our family can’t look too poor. To stay in the Yangs’ good graces, we had to keep sending valuable gifts…”

Pressed by his father and mother’s persuasion, Zhao Guangzong had finally agreed to accept the Dou merchant’s request for protection. Still, he knew it was a serious matter, so before signing the contract, he’d asked around.

The Dou family had been in the charcoal trade for years, with no record of wrongdoing—if anything, they were often bullied by others. Everyone called them honest people. Hearing nothing bad, Zhao Guangzong had believed it safe.

Qi Beinan sighed. “He was probably honest once. But once he gained protection, pride turned to arrogance. Having tasted power, he sought to make up for old humiliations—and that’s what brought this trouble on you. Unlucky timing for you indeed.”

Zhao Guangzong’s face twisted with anxiety. “What should I do now?”

“First,” Qi Beinan said firmly, “you must cut all ties with him at once. Today he’s only beaten someone; tomorrow it could be worse—perhaps even murder.”

Zhao Guangzong nodded quickly. “Of course. I’ll sever all connection with him, whether or not you say so.”

“Second,” Qi Beinan continued, “what’s done is done, so you must make amends. Bring generous gifts and visit the injured family in person. Whether they forgive you or not, you must show sincerity.”

“After that, submit a written appeal to the magistrate explaining your position. If all goes well, you’ll be cleared; if not, at worst you’ll be blamed for failing to supervise those under your protection.”

Hearing this, Zhao Guangzong’s mind began to settle. The panic drained from his face, replaced by focus. He rose and bowed deeply. “I don’t know what I’d have done without you. Truly.”

Qi Beinan patted his shoulder. “No need for formality between us. It’s normal to lose your composure when something sudden happens. What matters is that you stay calm enough to think through the solution. Go handle it—and if anything proves difficult, come to me.”

Zhao Guangzong nodded. “I will.” And with that, he hurried out.

After he left, Xiao Yuanbao still frowned, unable to shake the unease.

He remembered the offers that had come from merchants earlier—so many tempting deals. At the time, he’d thought it a pity that his brother had refused every one, being so strict and cautious.

But now, seeing what had happened to Zhao Guangzong, he understood Qi Beinan’s wisdom.

Even if one chose to accept a merchant’s favor, the effort it took to vet their background, investigate their conduct, and then watch them constantly for change of heart was exhausting. Better not to open that door at all. With that energy, one could build honest success instead.

“I just hope it ends without trouble,” Xiao Yuanbao murmured.

Qi Beinan, hearing the soft worry in his voice, took his hand. “It wasn’t Zhao Guangzong who ordered that merchant to bully others. He’s guilty only by association. There won’t be serious punishment.”

“But still…”

Xiao Yuanbao blinked. “Still what?”

Qi Beinan said quietly, “Let’s wait and see.”

---

Zhao Guangzong spent the next two days rushing about. First, he formally dissolved his contract with the Dou family. Then, following Qi Beinan’s advice, he brought ample gifts to visit the injured household.

They were far kinder than he’d expected—welcoming him with courtesy and even expressing gratitude for his apology.

Next, Zhao Guangzong submitted his statement to the county magistrate.

When the hearing opened, the plaintiff withdrew the charges against Zhao Guangzong and instead added a new accusation against Dou for “using the name of a gentry household to oppress others.”

The verdict came quickly: Dou was ordered to pay compensation for medical expenses, received ten lashes, and had one of his shops confiscated.

Zhao Guangzong was cleared of wrongdoing but still received a verbal reprimand—a warning to all scholars to keep their followers in check.

Xiao Yuanbao had gone secretly to watch the hearing from the crowd.

When the Dou merchant was brought forward for punishment, he saw the man’s face clearly and gasped on the carriage ride home.

“Brother,” he said to Qi Beinan, eyes wide, “do you know who that Dou merchant is?”

Qi Beinan didn’t go to the county office himself to watch the trial. He stayed in the carriage, waiting while Xiao Yuanbao went to see the commotion.

Closing the book in his hand, Qi Beinan asked, “You recognize him?”

“Not exactly,” Xiao Yuanbao replied, “but we’ve both seen him before.”

Qi Beinan lifted an eyebrow. “Where?”

“When our shop finished renovations and we went to inspect it—do you remember the two merchants arguing on the street that day?”

Qi Beinan thought for a moment and nodded. He remembered even sending Tie Nan to fetch Fang Youliang to break up the quarrel. The merchant causing the ruckus had looked simple and honest enough, but his manner had been domineering. He’d kept boasting that he was under someone’s protection.

Before Xiao Yuanbao even finished speaking, Qi Beinan already guessed the rest.

“If I’d known that man was one of Zhao Guangzong’s merchants back then,” Qi Beinan said quietly, “I would have scolded him on the spot. That might have spared us all this trouble now.”

He sighed. “Still, with that guileless face, it’s no wonder Zhao Guangzong was deceived.”

Xiao Yuanbao nodded in agreement.

The matter was resolved without further chaos, and Zhao Guangzong finally let out a breath of relief. If things had truly spiraled out of control, he might not even have been able to travel peacefully for the upcoming examinations.

But before his relief could settle, two days later, Yang Xuezheng summoned him.

Zhao Guangzong’s heart sank. He knew there was no hiding this affair from Yang Xuezheng and felt a bad premonition about the meeting.

Yang Xuezheng began mildly enough. “You handled this incident well. Visiting the injured family showed you have a kind heart.”

Zhao Guangzong felt a wave of shame. He stood with his head lowered, hands clasped in a formal salute. “It was my mistake, sir. By granting the Dou family protection, I gave them the confidence to act arrogantly and harm innocent people.”

Yang Xuezheng studied the young man before him. His attitude was sincere enough—but wrong was still wrong.

He raised his teacup, taking a slow sip. He neither stopped Zhao Guangzong’s bow nor said anything further right away.

Just thinking of the fine charcoal that had been sent to his household—charcoal that had come from that merchant’s hands—left him uneasy.

He finally spoke. “In a scholar’s household, the word integrity must always come first.”

“Do you know,” he continued, “what those great families in the capital and provincial cities despise most? It’s when scholars entangle themselves with merchants.”

“I myself came from a farming family and worked my way into office. I know how those old families look down on us newcomers. They sit on their old reputations and sneer at those who weren’t born into privilege.”

Yang Xuezheng set down his cup. “I don’t fault you for offering a merchant your protection. But your ability to manage and discipline those under you clearly needs refinement. That skill is vital—not only for running a household but also for serving in office.”

Zhao Guangzong had been listening all this time, unsure of where the lecture was leading. Now he began to understand.

“You weren’t formally punished,” Yang Xuezheng said, “but the verbal reprimand is noted. In the academic records, it will be marked down—and when it comes time for your appointment, that mark will make things difficult.”

He paused deliberately, letting the words sink in.

Zhao Guangzong bowed again. “Your guidance, sir, I will remember. I deserve the reprimand. It is just.”

Yang Xuezheng continued, “If that mark remains, it could hinder your future selection for office. On the other hand, I could overlook it—share a cup of tea with the county magistrate, and the matter would disappear.”

He looked at Zhao Guangzong steadily. “Would you prefer that?”

Zhao Guangzong lowered his head even further. “Of course I hope to enter official selection with a clean record, sir. But I wouldn’t dare make things difficult for you.”

Yang Xuezheng smiled faintly. “It’s not difficult. I only hope that, as I look after your future, you’ll also think of Xu Ge’er’s.”

At that, Zhao Guangzong lifted his head sharply. Their eyes met. His throat tightened; a flood of emotions churned through him.

---

When Zhao Guangzong was summoned from Qi Beinan’s home and returned hours later looking pale and hollow-eyed, Qi Beinan immediately knew something had gone wrong.

“Was your record marked?” Qi Beinan asked.

“No.” Zhao Guangzong shook his head.

He told Qi Beinan everything that had transpired.

“Am I such a shameless man,” Zhao Guangzong asked quietly, “that I’d sacrifice a marriage for my own career?”

Qi Beinan looked at him steadily. “Why belittle yourself so? It isn’t you who refused the marriage. Yang Xuezheng simply doesn’t wish it to continue.”

“He offered you two choices,” Qi Beinan said after a moment. “But they were never truly two. It was one disguised as two. He made sure you’d choose your career. After all, if you married his child, would he ever record his own son-in-law’s fault? He only wanted a reason to withdraw gracefully.”

Zhao Guangzong gave a bitter laugh. “I know you’re right. But knowing doesn’t make it any easier to accept.”

Qi Beinan understood. Zhao Guangzong had taken the merchant under his protection for the sake of this very marriage, and now it had all unraveled because of that same merchant. After all the effort, he was left with nothing but a tarnished name.

“Such is life,” Qi Beinan said softly. “Nothing stays certain. You’re still young, Guangzong. There will be other chances, and better matches ahead.”

Zhao Guangzong nodded faintly.

When he returned home, he shut himself in his room and slept for three days straight before finally regaining his strength.

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

Qi Beinan, you—what brings you here?”

Clerk Qian’s expression shifted the instant he saw him. Something told him this visit would not go well.

Qi Beinan didn’t spare him a glance. He strode straight past and stopped in front of Xiao Yuanbao, pulling him closer to check him from head to toe.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

Although Fang Youliang had already given him a brief account on the way and said Xiao Yuanbao was unharmed, the thought of such a thing happening—of someone daring to trap and assault his people in the county—still filled him with urgency and fury.

Since driving that wicked Madam Qin out of the Xiao household, Xiao Yuanbao had never suffered such humiliation under his care.

Now, seeing him safe brought a measure of relief, but the anger only burned hotter.

“I’m fine,” Xiao Yuanbao said softly. He could see the furrow in Qi Beinan’s brow, the sheen of sweat on his forehead, as though the man had rushed the entire way.

Though the fright had left his heart pounding, he hadn’t suffered a single scratch. He didn’t want Qi Beinan worrying further, so he murmured gently, “Really, I’m all right. Poor Qin Jiang’s the one who took the blows.”

Qi Beinan’s gaze lingered on him, confirming that he was indeed unhurt. His worry began to ease—but his rage did not.

The sight of the six men crouched nearby only fanned it. Broad-shouldered, thick-bearded, rough-faced—they were clearly used to throwing their weight around. To think six grown men had locked their shop, trapped two young boys, and dared to strike them—despicable.

If not for Qin Jiang’s martial skill, it could have gone far worse.

Clerk Qian, realizing Qi Beinan had indeed come to demand justice, felt a chill settle in his chest. He cursed the constables inwardly for not warning him first that the boy and youth were Qi Beinan’s household members.

Now that he had walked straight into it, there was no graceful way out.

He bent slightly and forced a smile. “Fortunately the young master wasn’t hurt, or I truly wouldn’t know how to answer for this. When I heard such a commotion in town, I came at once to scold these hotheaded fools myself.”

“Not hurt?”

Qi Beinan’s tone cut cold. He saw through the man’s attempt to downplay the matter.

He turned, lifted Qin Jiang’s chin, showing the bruised jaw and purpling cheek to the clerk. “This,” he said icily, “is what you call ‘not hurt’?”

Clerk Qian opened his mouth to argue. “Between men—”

Qi Beinan didn’t let him finish. “The County Magistrate is known for diligence and strict governance. Yet in broad daylight, such thugs run loose?”

His voice rang sharp and commanding. “If today they dare assault the household of a provincial scholar, tomorrow they’ll dare lay hands on an official! When the gentry themselves are no longer respected, what of the common folk—are they to be beaten at will?”

He narrowed his eyes, fixing Clerk Qian with a cold stare. “Surely such audacity must come from their own arrogance—not from protection behind them. For if someone is backing them, using rank to shield bullies, I trust the County Magistrate will see their patron punished as well. Don’t you think so, Clerk Qian?”

The man’s heart dropped. He had met Qi Beinan before and always thought him a gentle, modest scholar—refined, polite, easy to talk to.

Only now did he realize how wrong he’d been.

Facing that steady, unyielding gaze, he dared not speak in defense. “Yes, Scholar Qi is quite right,” he said quickly.

The bearded horse dealer, seeing his “godfather” Qian yield so easily, grew desperate.

“It was that boy—he said our good horses were sick, then struck first! Look, he—”

Before he could finish, Clerk Qian slapped him hard across the face.

“Still not repentant, and now you slander Scholar Qi!” he roared. “A learned man, most courteous and measured—and his attendants never cause trouble. And that young lad—how could one youth possibly fight six grown men unless provoked?”

The horse dealer reeled from the blow, too stunned to answer.

He dared not call Qian “godfather” again. He just clutched his cheek and moaned, “I’ve been wronged, I’m wronged…”

Inside, he cursed his luck. Translated on Hololo novels. Had he known these boys were connected to a provincial scholar, he’d never have picked this fight. Now he’d been beaten, hauled before the magistrate, and even his backer was bowing low. There would be no compensation—only losses.

Clerk Qian tried again, carefully. “The young master and your people have suffered a fright. How about we let these men pay generous restitution for the medical expenses and offer a formal apology? Would that satisfy you, Scholar Qi?”

“A private settlement?”

Qi Beinan gave a sharp, humorless laugh.

“Even if it weren’t about pride—even for the county’s peace—this cannot be hushed up.”

Clerk Qian hadn’t expected him to be so unyielding, so fierce in temper.

“Scholar Qi,” he said, lowering his voice, “might we speak in private?”

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” said Qi Beinan calmly. “If Clerk Qian has something to say, he may as well speak plainly.”

Seeing Qi Beinan unmoved, Clerk Qian signaled subtly. The others in the hall caught on and backed away, leaving the two some space.

He lowered his voice. “This was truly a case of the Dragon King Temple flooding itself—kin fighting kin. Had we known, no one would’ve dared lay a hand on your people. It would do no one good for this matter to blow up. Let those foolish men pay one hundred taels of silver and a fine horse to the young master as medical compensation—would that satisfy you, Scholar Qi?”

Qi Beinan’s eyes grew cold. “Does Clerk Qian think I’m the sort of man to covet compensation money?”

“Of course not,” the clerk said hastily. “You are upright and refined. It was their fault, and they will sincerely apologize.”

He continued, speaking with the tone of one advising reason. “But think of it another way—I’m only doing this for your own good.”

“Oh?” Qi Beinan said evenly. “And in what way, exactly?”

“Your young master is at a delicate age,” Clerk Qian said, choosing his words. “I don’t know if he’s betrothed or not, but whether he is or isn’t—if word of this incident spreads, tongues will wag. People are cruel with gossip. Though those ruffians were at fault, for the sake of the young master’s reputation, it would be better to let this go quietly.”

Qi Beinan said nothing, only looked at him. His expression was calm, but his gaze—dark, steady—made the clerk’s heart lurch.

Qian felt a chill crawl up his spine. He swallowed, forcing himself to stay composed.

Then Qi Beinan laughed, a short, mirthless sound. Leaning close, his voice dropped to a whisper.

“I hadn’t even thought of that,” he said. “But since you mentioned it, you’ve reminded me—there’s one more charge I’d overlooked.”

Clerk Qian blinked, uncertain.

Qi Beinan’s tone turned to ice. “You should be grateful those men didn’t lay any improper hands on my betrothed. If they had, prison would have been far too merciful. I’d see them dismembered at the marketplace by noon.”

With that, he took Xiao Yuanbao by the hand, called for Qin Jiang, and said curtly over his shoulder, “Wait for my petition.”

Then he left.

“Godfather! Godfather, you must save me!”

The bearded horse dealer panicked the moment he realized Qi Beinan had left with anger unappeased. Seeing no settlement had been reached, he crawled to clutch at Clerk Qian’s leg.

But the clerk still heard Qi Beinan’s cold words echoing in his ears. Sweat trickled down his back as the young man’s figure disappeared from sight.

His heart pounded like a drum. He had thought Qi Beinan merely a polite scholar of twenty—yet now he understood the calm surface hid a blade’s edge.

He had well and truly offended him, and the thought made his gut twist with dread.

When the horse trader grabbed him again, pleading, Qian snapped. “Who told you to be arrogant! You’ll face your punishment in court!”

He kicked the man aside and stormed off, hands clasped behind his back, mind already racing over how to explain this to the County Magistrate before word reached him through another mouth.

---

“…When they bolted the door, my heart almost stopped,” Xiao Yuanbao said animatedly later that evening at home, recounting the ordeal. “I was wondering where I could even run—and just then, Qin Jiang flew forward and kicked that bearded man right in the jaw. I swear I heard a crack.”

Even retelling it made him shudder and grin at once. “I could feel it from across the room. The guard tried to rush in but was scared out of his wits, shaking his head like a rattle drum. Then he tried to flee and got kicked halfway across the yard for his trouble.”

“I heard Fang Da’s voice outside,” he went on, gripping Qi Beinan’s hand. “I ran out, and he looked like he’d just seen a ghost—Qin Jiang was still landing on one of the dealers he’d knocked over. Brother, can you believe it? Qin Jiang’s still so young, but he’s incredible!”

Qi Beinan didn’t respond. He only listened quietly, his gaze distant.

Xiao Yuanbao noticed the silence, turned to ask what was wrong—but before a word left his mouth, Qi Beinan suddenly pulled him into his arms.

Startled, Xiao Yuanbao froze.

Qi Beinan’s arms wrapped tight, firm enough that not even air could pass between them. His chin came to rest on Xiao Yuanbao’s shoulder.

The brazier glowed warmly in the room, and the faint scent of bath herbs on Qi Beinan’s skin rose with the heat—familiar, comforting.

Beneath that warmth, Xiao Yuanbao’s voice softened. “I told you, I’m really fine.”

“I can tell,” Qi Beinan murmured against his ear. “You wouldn’t be talking so much otherwise.”

Still, he held him tighter, fear and longing both twisting in his chest. “If something had happened to you,” he whispered, “I think I would have gone mad.”

Xiao Yuanbao knew how deeply he worried. He reached up to stroke Qi Beinan’s back gently. “We can’t foresee danger. Neither of us went looking for trouble—it just found us. No one’s to blame.”

He spoke softly, reasoning. “Next time I’ll be more careful. Nothing like today will happen again.”

“Good.”

Qi Beinan nodded, then said, “I used to think too many people around the house were troublesome. I see now we need a few strong guards here. When I’m away for the exams, I won’t be at ease otherwise.”

“All right,” Xiao Yuanbao agreed readily. “Whatever you say.”

He smiled faintly. “It does feel safer with someone capable nearby. After today, I truly understand the value of it.”

They spoke for a while longer. Seeing Qi Beinan’s mood settle, Xiao Yuanbao tried to slip from his embrace—after all, they’d been holding each other quite some time, and he was beginning to feel shy.

But Qi Beinan refused to let go. His arms only tightened again, his warmth pressing close, as if by holding him he could finally quiet the echo of fear in his chest.

Now that his temper had cooled, Qi Beinan simply wanted to hold Xiao Yuanbao.

Xiao Yuanbao looked slender and delicate, but his body was soft and well-rounded. Years of good care had given him gentle curves; his small frame made the fullness only add to his graceful build.

He was beautiful to look at and comfortable to hold—warm, soft, and faintly fragrant. Qi Beinan had no wish to let go; the fact that he resisted the urge to kiss or nibble was restraint enough.

“I–I can’t breathe,” Xiao Yuanbao whispered, his face flushed.

Qi Beinan loosened his arms a little, though not enough to let him go.

So Xiao Yuanbao stayed where he was, feigning composure and polite resistance, though inside he was quietly delighted.

“What does Brother plan to do with the people from the livestock market?” he asked.

“The imperial law forbids taking justice by force,” Qi Beinan replied. “Otherwise, I’d teach them a proper lesson myself. Pain teaches memory, and it’d do my anger good.”

He added, “Since I can’t touch them, I’ll make sure they don’t go unpunished. A taste of prison labor will remind them well enough.”

Xiao Yuanbao hesitated. “Those men are old acquaintances of Clerk Qian. He pleaded several times for leniency today. If we don’t let it go, won’t that offend him?”

“I’m not afraid of offending a petty clerk,” Qi Beinan said flatly. “People call him ‘Master Qian,’ but he’s just a lowly hire in the county yamen. Whether he’s shown respect or not depends entirely on the magistrate’s mood.”

In his heart, Qi Beinan thought—if Qian hadn’t tried to use Xiao Yuanbao’s reputation to force a private settlement, he might have overlooked it. But since the man dared such conduct, courtesy was no longer owed.

Xiao Yuanbao nodded. He trusted Qi Beinan completely with such matters and felt at ease.

After the long morning’s commotion, the shock had worn him out. The warmth of the room and the safety of Qi Beinan’s arms made him drowsy. Before he realized it, he’d drifted off to sleep.

Qi Beinan listened to his breathing even out, saw his peaceful face, and quietly exhaled.

He carefully carried him to bed, removed his shoes and socks, and tucked him in. The sheets were cool from disuse, so he lay beside him in his clothes until the bedding warmed, then covered him properly.

He didn’t leave the room, choosing instead to set out ink and paper at the small desk. Frowning slightly, he began to write the legal petition.

“Master, someone from the Qin household has arrived,” Tie Nan announced softly at the door.

Qi Beinan paused, set down the brush, and said, “Have them wait in the side hall.”

After a brief tidy-up, he went to the guest room.

“Master, is the young master all right?” Qin Jiang jumped up when he saw him enter.

“Sit,” said Qi Beinan. “He’s fine—just a little tired and resting.”

He turned to the physician who had come to check the boy’s injuries. “Are they serious?”

“Merely superficial wounds,” said the doctor. “Young people heal fast. Apply the ointment, and he’ll be well in a few days.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

After sending the man off, Qi Beinan noticed the bruise at the corner of Qin Jiang’s mouth had darkened; hidden injuries were beginning to show. Fortunately, none were grave.

The boy’s spirit was still bright; he clearly hadn’t been beaten into despair.

“Master, it was my fault today,” Qin Jiang said guiltily. “I let the young master be frightened. I just joined the household and already failed—it must make me seem useless.”

Qi Beinan sat beside him, dipped his fingers into the medicine, rubbed it warm between his palms, and gently applied it to the bruises.

“You did very well,” he said. “Five or six grown men—an ordinary person would’ve been beaten senseless. It’s thanks to your skill they were the ones who suffered instead.”

Then his tone softened into instruction. “But you’re still young—bold and straightforward. It’s good to be brave, but not reckless.”

“You saw the dealer try to sell a sick horse—that was sharp of you. But when you confronted him and called it out so bluntly, of course it stirred conflict. Yes, the fault was theirs, but if your candor had led to greater harm, would it have been worth it?”

“Next time, temper yourself. Be tactful. Don’t clash with them directly. Come back and tell me—I’ll see to it myself. There’s no need for you and the young master to face danger head-on.”

“Those men today were no match for you, so you walked away with a few bruises. But one day, if you meet harder foes and lose an arm or an eye—how would I ever explain that to your father?”

Qin Jiang listened, deeply moved. Guilt and respect welled in his heart.

He wasn’t a troublemaker, but his quick fists often outran his judgment. Even Escort Chief Qin found him hard to discipline at home.

Usually, when he caused trouble, his father’s stick handled it, and his little uncle would hold him after, scolding his father for being too harsh.

Few had ever taken the time to tell Qin Jiang why something he did was wrong—what exactly the mistake was and how to correct it.

Hearing Qi Beinan speak now, not as a master scolding a servant but like an elder brother patiently guiding him, filled his heart with a strange, wordless warmth.

“Master,” he said quietly, “I remember everything you’ve said. I won’t act so recklessly again.”

Qi Beinan saw the sincerity in his eyes and was comforted. “I’m taking the trouble to talk this much for two reasons. First, because I admire your skill. I’d hate for your straight temper to make that skill your downfall. Second, because you’re still young—this is the age when mistakes are easiest to correct. Learn from this, and you’ll have a fine future ahead.”

He smiled faintly. “Boys your age respond better to praise than punishment. Truth be told, all men do. I’ve learned that a few right words often do more than a heavy stick.”

Then he rose. “Tie Nan said someone from your household is here—likely your father, hearing what happened. Come, let’s go to the side hall.”

When they entered, the visitor was indeed Escort Chief Qin.

“Father! You’ve come back?”

“You little rascal,” Qin Piaotou barked. “I’ve only just returned to the county, hadn’t even had a sip of water before hearing you’d caused trouble again!”

He had been waiting in the side hall for some time, restless and uneasy. He wasn’t worried his son had been beaten badly—he knew Qin Jiang’s strength well—but he feared the opposite: that his boy had gone too far and crippled someone.

He had just sent the lad to Qi’s household the day before, and now there was already an incident. If it led to a lawsuit, why would the Qi family bother defending a servant so newly taken in?

For ordinary folk like them, one lawsuit could ruin a lifetime.

Now seeing his son’s bruised, mottled face, Qin Piaotou nearly kicked him on the spot.

Qi Beinan, noticing the travel dust on the man’s clothes, saw he truly had just returned. “Escort Chief Qin, don’t be angry. The matter wasn’t his fault.”

At that, Qin Piaotou stayed his foot. Qin Jiang instinctively slipped behind Qi Beinan, looking every bit the obedient retainer.

“Master, I’m deeply ashamed,” said Escort Chief Qin. “He’s been here only two days and already stirred up trouble. I’ll take him back for a proper beating.”

Qi Beinan sat down, calm as ever. “I’ve already spoken with him. You’ve just come home, tired from the road—no need to add to your worries. In truth, his merit outweighs his fault. He did well.”

The escort chief relaxed a little. “Thank you for your generosity, Master. But… what will happen about the others?”

“I’ll submit the petition to the magistrate,” said Qi Beinan. “No one in the Qi household will ever be bullied without answer.”

Hearing this, Qin Piaotou finally let out a breath.

He had come in such haste because Qin Jiang had been involved in trouble so soon after entering service, and with little connection to his new master, he feared the boy might be made the scapegoat.

After all, the horse dealers had ties to Clerk Qian. For commoners like them, a case against officials or their friends was nearly impossible to win.

Now that Qi Beinan himself intended to press charges, the escort chief was reassured. He spoke privately with his son for a long while before heading home.

---

Later, in another corner of the county office, the Magistrate was sitting beneath a pavilion in his garden, painting a snow scene with a wolf-hair brush.

A kettle of tea simmered beside him, sending up thin white steam; on a wire rack above the brazier, a few chestnuts and tangerines roasted slowly.

“Sit and drink,” he said mildly. “Why are you standing there?”

Clerk Qian bent at the waist, hands respectfully folded. “I’ll just wait on you, my lord. I’m not thirsty.”

The magistrate looked at the man, thinking that after all these years of working together, the old clerk had been a dependable assistant. With his own promotion drawing near, he was inclined to grant a favor or two.

“All right,” the magistrate said. “You’ve served well. I won’t stand by and let you suffer for it. I’ll handle the matter as I see fit.”

“Thank you, my lord—thank you!”

Relief swept through Clerk Qian. “You honor me beyond measure. When the year ends, I’ll send two fine horses to serve you on your new posting. Even though the court provides transport, a few good mounts will make the journey easier.”

The magistrate smiled faintly. “Trust you to think of every detail.”

---

Two days later, Zhao Guangzong arrived in haste at the Qi residence.

Inside, he found Qi Beinan and Xiao Yuanbao calmly playing pitch-pot by the brazier. “The whole county’s in an uproar, and here you two sit playing games?”

“The yamen is interrogating those horse dealers today, and you’re not even going to take a look?”

Xiao Yuanbao hurried to call for tea for him, then said with mild reproach, “I wanted to go see too, but Brother wouldn’t let me.”

Qi Beinan, holding an arrow shaft between his fingers, said lazily, “A provincial scholar has no business loitering around the court. Going there myself would only make me look guilty—like a thief returning to the scene.”

“All the necessary documents have been submitted,” Qi Beinan said calmly. “The petition, the physician’s report for Qin Jiang’s injuries, the prescriptions, and the receipts for the calming medicine and tonics Xiao Bao used after the fright—all properly filed. The magistrate will deliver his verdict in due time. I’ve no need to trouble myself further.”

Zhao Guangzong leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I heard those horse dealers were under Clerk Qian’s protection. He’s served beside the magistrate for years—there’s likely some connection.”

“There is,” Qi Beinan replied evenly. “But no connection outweighs an official’s ambition when promotion is near.”

Zhao didn’t quite understand, but seeing Qi Beinan unperturbed, he kept quiet and waited.

By noon, news from the county office finally arrived.

Tie Nan came running in, beaming. “The horse dealers each received twenty strokes of the rod and three years of hard labor. The Honglong Livestock Market has been shut down. They’ll also pay compensation for the household’s medical expenses.”

Zhao shot to his feet, tea still in hand. “So harsh a sentence!” Then he grinned at Qi Beinan.

Tie Nan continued, “Seems Honglong Market’s been crooked for some time. When the verdict was read, the townsfolk outside the court cheered and clapped.”

Xiao Yuanbao, who’d been confined at home fretting over the case, finally relaxed when he heard. “What about Clerk Qian?” he asked. “Didn’t he beg for his godson?”

“They hired a legal advocate to defend them,” Tie Nan said, “so Clerk Qian had to recuse himself. He couldn’t very well plead for his own men in open court. Besides, every witness present that day was involved—they couldn’t testify. But Qin Jiang was injured on their property, and when the constables arrived, they found the livestock yard locked. Those facts were beyond dispute. Their lawyer had nothing to argue and couldn’t refute Master Qi’s petition.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s heart lifted. Those ruffians had long bullied others, hiding behind powerful backers. Now, at last, justice had caught up to them—and not lightly.

Zhao looked at Qi Beinan. “What exactly did you write in that petition to make the magistrate punish them so severely?”

“I merely wrote the truth,” said Qi Beinan. “In character—they were bullies who preyed on the weak. In trade—they coerced and cheated. In social order—they banded together to provoke unrest and showed no respect toward the gentry.”

He added, “The province has been tense ever since the attack on the exam candidates during the autumn trials. The culprits haven’t been caught, and local officials are on edge. I emphasized their ‘disrespect toward scholars and officials’—it was enough to make an example of them.”

Bullish horse dealers were exactly the sort of men who caused uprisings. With Clerk Qian backing them, the magistrate likely saw them as arrogant underlings emboldened by protection, not realizing deeper implications. Still, when Qi Beinan briefly referenced the recent exam attack, the magistrate would have understood the warning.

No county official nearing reassignment wanted even a whisper of negligence tied to his name. A mishandled disturbance could cost him not just promotion but his position.

And so, even with Clerk Qian pleading sentiment, the magistrate would not risk his career for it.

Zhao whistled softly. “No wonder he came down so hard.”

Qi Beinan said, “Had I only written of their forced trading and assault, Clerk Qian’s mediation might have softened the sentence. The magistrate, out of fairness, would’ve fined and reprimanded them, maybe issued a public warning—but the den would’ve stayed open.”

Zhao nodded. “True enough. Without the shutdown, they’d think they could keep getting away with it.”

Qi Beinan smiled faintly, squeezing Xiao Yuanbao’s hand. “Satisfied now?”

Xiao Yuanbao nodded, eyes bright with relief.

Those thugs had haunted his dreams for days; this news finally cleared the last of his fear.

Meanwhile, Clerk Qian’s situation took a sharp turn.

Just the day before, he had sent the magistrate two fine horses worth a hundred taels as a year-end gift. The very next day, Honglong Market received the harsh sentence—not only were the men condemned to hard labor, the business itself was sealed shut.

He wasn’t worried only for his godson; he’d profited handsomely through that same market. Now, seeing both his men punished and the property confiscated, panic rose in his chest. He tried to seek out the magistrate but couldn’t even gain an audience.

When he arrived at the office, the two horses he’d gifted were being led back out to him. His stomach dropped.

“Clerk Qian,” said Manager Huang mildly, “the roads are icy and you’re not young. The magistrate’s worried for your health. Go home for the New Year—no need to come by so often.”

“Manager Huang,” Qian said urgently, slipping a heavy purse into the man’s sleeve, “please, help me understand! The magistrate won’t see me, and my heart’s on fire. How can I go home and celebrate?”

Huang accepted the bribe with a practiced ease and sighed. “Since we’ve known each other long, I’ll tell you this much. Back in autumn, a provincial scholar was attacked on his way to the exams—the culprits still haven’t been caught. Every official’s on edge. Your godson’s a brute who offended Qi Juren himself—what nerve! Qi Juren is this year’s top provincial candidate. Having suffered trouble on the exam road and now insulted again in our county, of course he’ll take it personally.”

Clerk Qian blanched, a cold sweat breaking down his spine. “Those fools may be crude, but surely they didn’t commit a crime worth execution!”

“The magistrate knows you’re an honest man,” Huang said. “But given the political climate, he has to be cautious. You must understand.”

Clerk Qian left trembling—half terrified, half remorseful.

No wonder the punishment had been so severe, and no wonder the magistrate now refused to see him. Because of those idiotic horse dealers, suspicion had fallen on him as well.

He cursed himself bitterly. How had he ever thought to cross a man like Qi Beinan?

He should have known better. For one so young, from a humble farming family, to rise so far—he had to possess uncommon ability.

But regret came too late. The lesson had already cost him dearly.

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

After the maintenance and upgrades, the ground floor of the internet café expanded to double its previous size, adding 60 new computers. On the second floor, which originally had rooms along the walls in a suspended corridor, new redwood bridges were built, forming a cross-shaped structure extending toward the center. These bridges were divided into private rooms of varying sizes, from single-person to three-person rooms, adding 30 more computers.

The newly built third, fourth, and fifth floors were temporarily closed to customers. During the upgrades, Lu Yao also expanded the convenience store and the package pick-up area on the ground floor.

Because she was busy with store expansions and constructing the virtual world, Lu Yao could no longer work shifts. Following Jiao Niang’s recommendation, she hired Xiao Xiao, a small flower demon (whose true form was a mimosa), to take turns with Jiao Niang working day and night shifts.

Cheng Ye took full responsibility for the game development and operations. He and Xiao Zhong recommended Wen Rong, the leopard spirit, and the devil clan’s Guan Zhong to serve as system administrators. With the café’s larger scale, both the upper and lower floors needed staff to keep things in order. After brief interviews, Lu Yao signed probationary contracts with Wen Rong and Guan Zhong.

On the grand reopening day, all new staff members were on site. Regular customers stepped into the café, hesitating at first due to the dramatic overnight transformation. The shop now boasted a total of 90 additional computers, making Super Dimensional Internet Café comparable to a large, bustling city-center internet café.

Familiar with the owner’s extraordinary capabilities, customers quickly adapted. The layout changes—such as a one-meter-wide pathway between the bar, the convenience store, and the package rack—meant queues for logging in, purchasing snacks, or picking up parcels were now less crowded and more orderly.

Curious customers roamed about for a moment, discussed the updates with their companions, and then quietly queued at the counter or sought assistance from a system administrator to log in. Everyone remembered that the new game’s beta testing started today. While the expanded café was more spacious, they didn’t want to take chances and hurried to secure a seat.

When the “Tales of the Six Realms” beta test launched, a 90-second opening CG was projected simultaneously above the first and second floors.

In the animated sequence, various scenes from the immersive game world unfolded, resembling mystic realms familiar to the inhabitants of the Floating World. The visuals borrowed heavily from the aesthetics and settings of the continent itself. Most customers found the imagery novel yet strangely familiar, though not particularly shocking.

However, a few moments stood out, especially in the scenes of team battles where demons, devils, and cultivators weren’t fighting as opponents but as allies. The opposing team included a reconnaissance sparrow demon, ghosts, and even celestial beings. The combat was intense and fluid, captivating everyone’s attention.

What truly struck a chord was the seamless cooperation among humans, demons, devils, and ghosts within the teams. The battle scenes showcased a dynamic synergy, with each side fighting fiercely yet harmoniously.

Sitting in the hall, Ling Xiangsi of Tianyan Sect frowned slightly, her arms crossed. “Why would cultivators mix with demons and devils in this game?”

Beside her, Jian Buyi of Jiujue Sect glanced at her before surveying the hall, where demons, devils, and even cultivators mingled freely. He said nothing—after all, the lines had long since blurred.

Following the recent competitive season, cultivator teams had repeatedly challenged the shopping street team to meet the so-called “Strongest in the Three Realms.” Though the store staff were often busy, they sometimes allowed disciples from the Floating World Sect to fill in. Despite numerous attempts, the cultivator teams had never bested the shopping street team, only managing to scrape by with a minor victory here and there—falling far short of meeting the strongest.

Over time, cultivators and demons had learned to ignore each other in the café, occasionally even discussing online memes or gaming strategies. However, the idea of trusting one another enough to watch each other’s backs in life-or-death battles, as depicted in the opening CG, was absurd and outrageous to the orthodox cultivators.

Demons and devils weren’t thrilled either. Casual interactions at the internet café were one thing, but trusting those self-righteous cultivators? Out of the question.

Once the CG ended, the beta test officially opened. Customers from all three realms—each harboring their own subtle grievances—began logging in one after another.

Logging into the game interface, players are greeted with a one-minute introduction to the game’s world background. Following this, six black bronze gates appear on the screen.

In Tales of the Six Realms, players can choose from six available races: Humans/Cultivators, Magic beasts, Demons, Devils, Ghosts, and Celestials.

The little sparrow demons eagerly picked the “Gate of Ten Thousand Demons” without hesitation.

Next to them, the half-demon bear cub hesitated for a while before also entering the “Gate of Ten Thousand Demona.”

Meanwhile, Guan Zhong, who was on shift, noticed that Danxi chose the “Gate of Refining Devils.”

The cultivators, without exception, all entered the “Gate of Seeking the Dao.”

After selecting a race, players proceed to choose their cultivation path from a detailed list and then customize their character’s appearance.

The character customization interface provides both preset “parts” and an option to sketch your design manually, allowing players full creative control over their appearance.

Once the character creation is complete, the game officially begins.

At this stage of the beta, Tales of the Six Realms offers three main gameplay modes:

1. Exploration and Quests
   Players traverse the map, complete quests, and collect experience points, spirit stones, and enhancement materials.
2. Team Dungeons
   Players form parties to grind dungeons for materials.
   These two modes resemble standard browser-based RPGs, where players use experience to level up, spirit stones and materials to enhance attributes, strengthen weapons, and refine pills. Weapons and pills can be sold at weapon shops or alchemy halls for additional resources.
3. Multiplayer Online Battles (unlocked at level 20)
   This is a faction-based PvP mode where players push through maps to defeat the opposing team.
   Players can choose from three battle formats: 3v3, 4v4, or 5v5.
   The mode, akin to a wuxia-inspired MOBA game, is called “Trial Cliff” in Tales of the Six Realms. In Trial Cliff, players are no longer restricted to their initial race selection. Instead, they can pick from a pool of characters representing various races and lineages. Characters are regularly updated, and each one is tailored to a specific sub-race within the six factions.

The first character designed for the game was the Sparrow Scout from the demon race. Its inspiration came from the sparrow demons who frequented the café and a humanoid sketch drawn by Lu Yao for them.

Thanks to the rich and vivid source material, the design of the sparrow scout’s demon form, human form, skills, and backstory was completed in just two days.

On the first day of testing, most players hadn’t yet reached level 20 and were busy exploring maps and completing quests.

One unique feature of Tales of the Six Realms is that each race receives unique quests, maps, and dungeon content, with slight differences in quest rewards.

Players could exchange gameplay tips and tasks on the world chat and privately trade materials.

By the end of the first day, around 200 players had logged in, but actionable feedback was sparse.

On the second day, a few players reached level 20 and gained access to Trial Cliff.

Given the small beta testing pool, only a handful of players managed to level up so quickly. At this point, Trial Cliff only supported AI matches, limited to the 3v3 mode.

Coincidentally, the first three players to enter the mode were all cultivators: Jiang Yan from Hengze Sect, Ling Xiangsi from Tianyan Sect, and Xiao Yi from Kunlun Sect.

When entering Trial Cliff for the first time, players watch a beginner tutorial video introducing the map, gameplay mechanics, and currently available characters.

Halfway through the video, the three players began to relax—they were familiar with this type of gameplay.

“This is just team-based combat!”

They quickly realized that the team battles allowed characters of different races to cooperate, explaining the mixed-race teams depicted in the opening CG.

During the character selection phase, all three players chose cultivator characters, specifically sword cultivators.

One unique feature of Tales of the Six Realms is that players on the same team can select the same character, which sets it apart from other MOBA games.

The AI opponents consisted of a diverse lineup: the demon race’s scout sparrow, the blood demon from the demon generals, and a human race’s zither cultivator.

After selecting their characters, the map began loading.

In the three-player mode, the map consists of a single main lane, but each faction has multiple buff points along the lane, providing plenty of opportunities to contest resources.

Ling Xiangsi and Xiao Yi, both sword cultivators, had no hesitation in choosing the only sword cultivator character from the pool.

Jiang Yan’s reasoning was more personal. In reality, his poor aptitude had prevented him from pursuing sword cultivation in Hengze Sect, forcing him to become a pill cultivator.

When Jiang Yan entered Tales of the Six Realms, he chose the “Gate of Seeking the Dao.” During the second stage, “Cultivation Path,” he opted to become a sword cultivator instead of a pill cultivator.

The path of a sword cultivator differs significantly from that of a pill cultivator. Even though the game’s setting doesn’t fully replicate reality, Jiang Yan experienced a brief joy of practicing swordsmanship in the game.

Motivated by his newfound passion, he worked hard to level up and became one of the first players to reach level 20.

When he unlocked the Trial Cliff mode and saw the available characters, he instantly chose the only sword cultivator among the four cultivator options.

Once the three players entered the map, they finally examined their characters’ skills:

• Basic attack
• Combo skill
• Ultimate skill

The sword cultivator character is designed as an assassin, boasting high burst damage and powerful output. However, it comes with four-star difficulty (out of five) and low durability.

Xiao Yi quickly formulated a plan:
“As long as we survive until level 5 and upgrade the ultimate skill during the Golden Core stage, we can slice through the enemy like butter.”

Ling Xiangsi had the same idea.

Having spent considerable time playing 5v5 games at the café to challenge the Three Realms’ Strongest, they quickly grasped the mechanics of this new mode.

Jiang Yan practiced the controls, rolling across his keyboard to familiarize himself with the skills, and quietly followed his two teammates.

The plan was simple: stay cautious, farm until level 5, and unleash their ultimate skills to dominate the enemy.

The opposing AI team had other plans.

At level 5, the scout sparrow transformed, summoning five untransformed sparrow minions. These minions had little attack power but were annoyingly effective at scouting, harassing opponents, and providing cover.

Meanwhile, the blood demon, as a melee fighter, built up blood rage to deal painful attacks with life steal. Upon transforming, their weapon could morph into a swarm of vampiric bats capable of mid-range attacks.

To make things worse, the zither cultivator supported the team perfectly: providing speed buffs when the sparrow minions harassed and healing the blood demon precisely when their health was low.

After healing, the blood demon launched devastating attacks, shielded by the sparrow scout’s interference. In no time, the three squishy sword cultivators were wiped out.

Frustrated but not defeated, the sword cultivator team respawned and tried again.

They relied on their skill, hoping to turn the tide through superior gameplay. But each time they initiated a team fight, their desperation grew. They lost three consecutive battles, their performance worsening with each attempt.

Within twenty minutes, the AI team destroyed the players’ base.

Xiao Yi and Ling Xiangsi stared blankly at the large “DEFEAT” text on their screens, unable to comprehend how their sword cultivators lost so badly.

Sure, the blood demon was powerful in the late game, but by the end, they couldn’t even take down the scout sparrow, which had minimal attack power and tanky gear that made its health bar nearly invincible.

Xiao Yi and Ling Xiangsi were deeply dissatisfied with the game’s mechanics. Feeling demoralized, they logged out after filling out feedback surveys, unwilling to continue playing.

Jiang Yan, however, stayed online for a few more rounds. He was paired with AI teammates for subsequent matches, but the repetitive experience soon bored him as well.

He exited the Trial Cliff and went back to taking quests and farming materials, occasionally recruiting players in the world chat to team up for dungeons, continuing to level up.

When Jiang Yan exited the Trial Cliff, he happened to level up, and for a brief moment, his vision darkened, as if he had seen a strange door.

But the moment passed so quickly that by the time he reacted, everything was back to normal. He assumed he had been playing too long and his eyes were tired, so he didn’t think much of it.

By the afternoon, around thirty beta players had reached level 20.

With more players online, it was inevitable to encounter other races in the Trial Cliff.

At first, players tended to choose characters of their own race, and team configurations were no longer as extreme as the three sword cultivators. This made the matches much more enjoyable.

The character designs in Tales of the Six Realms were fresh and interesting. Both the demon and monster races featured pre- and post-transformation forms, while cultivators would change their equipment and weapons as they leveled up. Just exploring the upgraded forms of different characters kept many players entertained for hours.

The most excited were the sparrow demons in the café.

They hadn’t known that the shopkeeper had turned sparrow demons into game characters. They didn’t understand what they saw in the CG until they entered the Trial Cliff and saw the familiar yet unfamiliar character cards in the pool. The sparrows were stunned.

Scout Sparrow of the Demon Race!

They were scouts!!!

The sparrows chirped noisily in excitement, and in their first match, they all chose the scout character.

The scout’s strength lay in its agility, excelling in harassment and support. Post-transformation, it even gained companions to help.

When they reached level 5 and unlocked their transformation, the sparrow demons, who had dreamed of transforming, jumped up and down in excitement.

Once they cultivated enough to transform in real life, they would surely look just as amazing and powerful.

Besides the sparrow scout, there were a total of 24 released character cards, spanning humans, demons, devils, ghosts, and other creatures.

By evening, the café was abuzz with discussions about Tales of the Six Realms.

Devil and demon customers were particularly enthusiastic about discussing the character cards in the Trial Cliff, especially those whose true forms were similar to certain game characters. They spoke with pride, as if they had been awarded a certificate.

The sparrow demons, in particular, were so proud they seemed about to sprout wings.

Meanwhile, Xiong An’an was sulking again.

Despite being the café’s most beloved little bear demon and a national treasure, he didn’t have his own character card in the new game.

The sparrow demons, who couldn’t even transform yet, not only had a character card but were also the most popular characters discussed on the second day of the game’s launch.

The little bear demon rolled on the floor of the café in frustration, whining pitifully.

Zhong Lianjia entered the store carrying his bag and saw the little furball, now covered in dust like a sesame rice ball. He didn’t mind, though, and bent down to pick him up. “Why’s our little bear demon upset?”

Xiong An’an whimpered in grievance, his beady eyes filled with resentment as he stared at Lu Yao.

Lu Yao, holding the little Tang Kang in her arms, sighed helplessly. “He’s throwing a tantrum because I didn’t turn our great national treasure cub into a character card.”

Hearing her tone, Xiong An’an immediately realized he’d made a mistake—she was soft-hearted, not one to yield to hard tactics.

Scrambling out of Zhong Lianjia’s arms, he scampered over to hug Lu Yao’s leg, switching to a routine of cuddling and being adorable.

Suddenly, a chilling aura filled the shop, making the air feel uncomfortably cold. Lu Yao turned, scanning her surroundings.

Dark red water stains began to slowly emerge on the wall beside the courier shelves. Lu Yao instinctively clutched the little Tang Kang tightly and pushed Zhong Lianjia away. “The ghost gate is opening—get out of here.”

Zhong Lianjia froze. “…”

What’s going on?

Lu Yao was also considering the visitor’s intentions.

Was it because the little Tang Kang’s time had come?

Or was it related to the ten invitations she had sent to the underworld?

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

In the afternoon, Shi Yan and his team informed Lu Yao that the team interviewed in the morning had been targeted.

Lu Yao went to the lounge to watch the replay. Despite the targeting, the team performed well in the afternoon, winning two matches decisively before encountering the celestials in the third match. The celestials crushed their morale, forcing them to withdraw regretfully.

By the evening, other teams inspired by the interview and attempting cross-racial team formations also faced celestial retaliation.

Due to lack of coordination, these hastily formed teams were inconsistent in strength and couldn’t secure victories as cleanly as the morning’s top-ranked team. When they later encountered celestials, they were utterly decimated, unable to put up any resistance.

However, the reactions sparked by cross-racial teams were far more entertaining than those of single-race teams. Players found the experience novel, and spectators equally enjoyed watching them.

For tens of thousands of years, the six realms had been plagued by constant conflict.

Only in the past millennium had the disputes gradually calmed, though the realms remained almost completely isolated from each other.

In the human world, a few cities had come under demon control for various reasons, resulting in mixed human and demon populations, though the demons dominated.

The strong have always held power—it’s been this way for millennia.

This Celestial-Demon Conference, however, allowed the realms to witness something new and different.

The atmosphere in the venue grew livelier in the afternoon as spectators adjusted to the environment.

Many began selectively watching matches involving mixed-race teams, but the celestials disrupted this enthusiastic vibe.

Celestial techniques and artifacts were naturally advantageous against demons and devils, and the celestials leveraged this to win multiple matches.

During the evening break, the newly prominent celestial team appeared in an interview.

The host asked, “What is your advantage?”

The young celestial, with a stoic expression, replied, “Righteousness always prevails over evil. That’s all.”

In the audience, demons grumbled in discontent. “Who’s he calling evil?”

The devils were equally displeased. “It’s just a few matches. Why bring up good and evil? Does he have a screw loose?”

The café had initially relied on demon customers to stay afloat and later attracted devils as well. They were the most familiar with the café and had the deepest attachment to it, with the largest spectator turnout.

The venue erupted in arguments following the celestial interview.

The celestials in the audience remained cold and detached, watching the commotion unfold.

Nearby, mortals, irritated by the noise, dared not intervene.

If the celestials were provoked, they could immediately retaliate and regain face. But mortals, forever bystanders in the six realms, didn’t even dare to raise their voices.

By the afternoon, most shops in the shopping street had closed. The shopkeepers, instead of heading home, gathered at the café to join the excitement, watching the livestream from the lounge and chatting.

Bai Yi remarked, “Well, this has stirred up some trouble.”

Ji Qingyan clicked her tongue. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Celestials sure hold grudges.”

Shi Yan, holding Xiong An’an in his arms, winced in pain. “…An’an, take it easy.”

The little bear demon, enraged by the celestial’s interview, hadn’t held back, leaving five holes in Shi Yan’s arm.

Someone nearby quickly whisked the bear demon away, while Shi Yan, too pained to speak, gritted his teeth.

Just then, Lu Yao returned from outside.

The lounge was in chaos, and everyone was preparing to send Shi Yan to the hospital.

Lu Yao pulled out Regulation Rod and traced a glowing magic formation on Shi Yan’s arm.

A gentle warmth spread over his skin. The bleeding stopped, and within a minute, the wounds had healed.

Bai Yi pressed on Shi Yan’s arm and asked, “Does it hurt?”

Shi Yan blinked rapidly and shook his head.

The gaming team and other staff watched the whole process in awe.

The staff from the shopping street were already accustomed to the boss occasionally showcasing her abilities.

The gaming team, however, had always thought the true marvel was the street itself, doubting that the boss was all that powerful. Now, they weren’t so sure.

Lu Yao took out a bottle of healing pills, poured out two, and handed them to Shi Yan to take. Then she looked down at An’an and said, “Control your temper. Think things through before acting, and don’t lose control so easily.”

Xiong An’an clung to Lu Yao’s leg, his large face filled with grievance. “Those celestials are awful.”

Hearing the phrase “righteousness prevails over evil” had triggered memories for Xiong An’an. Years ago, demon hunters had said the same thing about his mother, calling the demon clan evil, before killing her right in front of him.

They had lived far from human settlements, peacefully in the mountains, never harming humans.

At the time, he was too young and powerless to resist. His mother had hidden him, and he had watched helplessly as she died from her injuries.

To him, the demon hunters were the true evil.

But he had been too small, too weak.

He couldn’t save his mother and couldn’t even protect himself. If his sister hadn’t found him, he would likely have starved to death in the mountains.

Xiong An’an carried a secret he had never shared with anyone: When his sister first came to take him in, he didn’t like her.

She smelled of humans, and her behavior was unlike their mother’s. Instead, it reminded him of the demon hunters.

But his sister had taken him in and tried her best to raise him. She wasn’t as strong as their mother and, being a half-demon, couldn’t even take on a demon form. She had no choice but to raise him the human way.

Xiong An’an’s feelings were tangled and confused.

Later, after he stumbled upon the café by accident, he met many humans and demons and gradually began to understand the world.

He realized that not all humans were the same, just as not all demons were alike.

He resolved to cultivate and become strong, to protect his sister, Lu Yao, and his master.

And, most importantly, to take revenge on the demon hunters who had climbed the mountain that day.

But when he heard the celestial’s interview earlier, memories of those self-righteous demon hunters came flooding back, and he lost control.

Lu Yao crouched down, cupping the little bear demon’s round face. “Then you should go argue with the celestials. What does stabbing Uncle Shi Yan accomplish?”

Xiong An’an lowered his head.

Lu Yao nudged him. “Go apologize to Uncle Shi Yan.”

Xiong An’an turned to look at Shi Yan, his innocent, shiny eyes full of regret.

Shi Yan’s heart melted. “It’s fine. Just a scratch, and it’s already healed. But if you call me ‘big brother,’ I’ll buy you a cake tomorrow.”

Xiong An’an’s eyes lit up. Still remembering Lu Yao’s words, he said, “Uncle, I’m sorry.”

Then, almost instantly, he added, “Big brother, I want strawberry cake and chocolate cake.”

Shi Yan covered his face. That first part was definitely unnecessary, but he couldn’t help replying, “Alright, alright. Big brother will buy them for you tomorrow.”

At that moment, Qiuyu pushed the door open, kicked Xiong An’an aside, and clung to Lu Yao’s arm. “The celestials are bullying people. When are we going on?”

Qiuyu was stunningly beautiful, dressed in the dark-style children’s clothes Lu Yao had bought for her—a black camisole paired with denim bell-bottoms. Though she looked adorable, her aura was too commanding to hide the maturity of her soul.

Xiong An’an, now lying on the floor, said nothing, blinking pitifully as he looked up.

A team member monitoring the group competition said, “If you want to face the celestials, you’ll have to go on tomorrow at the latest—and you’ll need to keep winning.”

The group competition was single-elimination, but to ensure fairness, after the first round of random matchups, teams were paired based on similar win counts and win rate deviations of no more than 10%.

The celestials had won four consecutive matches in the afternoon. If the marketplace team wanted to match with them, they’d need to catch up in win rate.

Lu Yao patted Qiuyu. “Go find Little Ginseng and Tangkang. We’ll run two more practice matches tonight and head in tomorrow.”

The first day of the tournament had ended, and participants were leaving the venue in order. The third floor was being cleared of spectators.

During the Celestial-Demon Conference, the café’s online services were suspended.

As the café quickly emptied, the shopping street team gathered to review the team compositions and strategies they had observed on the first day. They also watched several rounds of matches featuring celestial teams before starting their own practice matches against disciples from the Six Realms Sect.

…

Late at night, in the Demon Realm.

Deep in the eighteenth layer of the Shadow Prison, Yu Yao leaned against the wall, her head tilted back as she gazed at the illusion of the demon moon outside the small window.

Eighteen layers underground, there was no sky to be seen.

What lay beyond the window was merely an illusion.

Yet Yu Yao stared at it, lost in thought—a crimson moon once again.

She had been here long enough to reflect on many things.

If there were a next time, she would definitely…

Click—

A barely audible sound came from above. With her sharp senses, Yu Yao could tell it wasn’t the usual guards.

She slowly sat upright, smoothing out her disheveled hair.

About half an hour later, two figures appeared outside the cell of the eighteenth layer.

A tall man with silver hair and crimson eyes stood at the door, his hoarse voice calling, “Yao’er.”

Yu Yao turned her head to see Jizhuang and Wuling. A faint, complex smile played at her lips. “It’s actually you.”

Five hundred years ago, if she hadn’t met him, she wouldn’t have mistaken the wrong person, nor ended up in her current predicament.

Jizhuang, oblivious to the complexity in Yu Yao’s expression, was simply relieved and satisfied to see her again.

Wuling had previously uncovered that the once-renowned Immortal Yu Yao had last disappeared near the boundary gate between the human and demon realms.

However, in recent centuries, the Demon Lord had strictly guarded the boundary gate. The two demons had gone to great lengths to sneak from the human realm into the demon domain.

Unfortunately, while they were searching for her in the vast demon realm, Yu Yao had gone to the human realm.

Not long after, Yu Yao was captured by the Demon Lord and brought back.

The news spread through the Abyss of Weak Waters, allowing Jizhuang and Wuling to finally locate her.

The Shadow Prison was within the Tianyuan Demon Palace, but despite several attempts, the two demons had been unable to infiltrate it.

This time, the Demon Lord had left the palace for unknown reasons and had been absent for half a month.

Something seemed to be happening in the human realm, and even the demon domain was abuzz with speculation.

But Jizhuang paid no attention to such matters. Taking advantage of the Demon Lord’s absence and the relaxed guards, he and Wuling finally snuck into the Shadow Prison.

Jizhuang used his life-bound sword to break the seals binding Yu Yao, then crafted a substitute using magic and placed it in her stead. Finally, he carried her out.

Leaning on Jizhuang’s shoulder, Yu Yao spoke calmly, “Take me to Baixian Mountain.”

Wuling frowned. “What are you planning to do?”

Lu Yao closed her eyes, ignoring him.

Jizhuang sighed and, after a brief pause, began walking out. “Alright, as you wish.”

…

The next day, the second day of the Celestial-Demon Conference.

The path up Baixian Mountain was lined with tightly packed stalls.

Not only were there humans selling food and trinkets, but also demon vendors offering spiritual plants and rare magical items.

The influx of visitors over the past two days had turned the mountain into a bustling market—a perfect opportunity to make money.

Having learned from the first day, guests ascending the mountain on the second day were much more at ease. Many took their time browsing stalls from the base of the mountain all the way to the café, buying plenty of goods along the way.

Upon reaching the café, they checked their tickets and entered.

Once seated, the spectators began scanning the floating screens overhead, looking for matches that piqued their interest.

The five members of the marketplace team also took their seats, preparing for their match.

The little bear demon, Little Ginseng, and Xiao Zhong kept sneaking glances out of the corners of their eyes, surreptitiously observing the ghost official seated at the far right.

This was their first time meeting the ghost official teammate, and they hadn’t even trained together—yet here they were about to play a match.

The ghost official had a pale face, refined features, and a tall stature. He introduced himself as Xue Li, a minor errand ghost from the Tenth Court of the Netherworld.

Perhaps due to an instinctive reaction among the living, Little Bear demon, Little Ginseng, and Xiao Zhong all felt that Xue Li carried an aura of importance and wasn’t someone to be trifled with.

Lu Yao adjusted the black dragon bracelet on her wrist. “Ready?”

The little Tangkang perched on Lu Yao’s head let out a snort, signaling its agreement.

The team members all pressed the “load” key on their keyboards simultaneously. The screen flickered, and when they opened their eyes, they found themselves in the familiar map.

The shopping street team’s first opponents of the day were another group starting their matches today.

The opposing team consisted of two human cultivators, a demon, and a devil.

Among the cultivators, there were two sword cultivators and one refiner.

The map was a traditional three-lane setup, but with some differences in the game mechanics.

At the start of the game, all players’ cultivation levels and realms were suppressed. Players would need to level up from 0 to 30 by farming minions and collecting resources. Upon reaching max level, their real-world cultivation levels would be unlocked.

Each player had a six-slot inventory for items, including magical artifacts, spirit pets, elixirs, talismans, tools, and materials.

However, the inventory had a restriction: only one slot was unlocked at the start, and a new slot would unlock every five levels. Only when all six slots were unlocked could players freely use all their items.

Both Qiuyu and the little Tangkang had been placed in Lu Yao’s inventory as tools. Tangkang occupied the first slot, while Qiuyu was in the sixth.

Skill configurations also followed the rules of Tales of the Six Realms. Each player could equip three skills in their slots, which had to be set before leaving the base. Once they left, the skills couldn’t be changed for the rest of the match.

The game’s design, while adhering to its established rules, was highly flexible, making the matches engaging and increasingly popular among spectators.

The shopping street team hadn’t competed on the first day, so they hadn’t drawn much attention yet.

When the opposing team noticed the shopping street team had two humans, one without any cultivation, they were both surprised and delighted.

“Isn’t this just a free win?”

Lu Yao pulled the little Tangkang out of her inventory and headed to the top lane with it. The ghost official and Little Ginseng went to the bottom lane, while Xiao Zhong handled the jungle, clearing camps and buff points. Lu Yao wandered alone in the mid lane.

Holding the Regulation Rod in her hand, Lu Yao stayed safely under the turret, waiting for the minion wave to come. When the enemy team didn’t show up, her guard went up. “Xiao Zhong, watch out. They might be ganking you.”

Xiao Zhong, the only human on the team without cultivation, was likely the enemy’s primary target.

Carrying the custom weapon Lu Yao had crafted for him, Xiao Zhong was busy slashing at jungle monsters. “Couldn’t they wait a bit longer?”

Hearing the warning, the little Tangkang dashed toward the jungle, where Xiao Zhong was farming in the upper half.

Spirit pets weren’t considered players, so they didn’t have inventories or skill slots.

However, spirit pets had one passive and one active skill and shared experience points with their bonded player.

The little Tangkang’s passive skill provided double experience and gold income to allies within a 500-yard radius. Its active skill, Luck Barrier, could be used every 50 seconds to shield nearby allies for 35 seconds.

In the lounge, Shi Yan and his team were huddled together, watching the shopping street team’s debut match.

“That was close! The piglet’s shield is surprisingly tough—it blocked three sword strikes.”

“That’s why they call it an auspicious beast.”

“And Zhong’s weapon is insane. It works just like the mantis claw effect.”

“Well, this isn’t the mortal version of the game. The boss specially made that weapon for him. Let’s see if he can use it properly.”

Meanwhile, in the game, Xiao Zhong was experiencing some new sensations. He felt as if he had fully immersed himself in the character, farming minions while constantly staying alert to hidden threats.

The pressure of the official match was worlds apart from the training matches. It was like jumping from bot games straight into ranked battles—his adrenaline was surging.

He was nervous, but also exhilarated.

The shopping street team had thoroughly studied the matches from the first day and made predictions about their opponents’ potential strategies.

The shallow strategy of targeting Xiao Zhong as a weak point was something the Shopping Street team had anticipated.

Their countermeasure was straightforward: they used Xiao Zhong as bait to ensure the rest of the team could develop.

In less than fifteen minutes, the opposing team became overly fixated on targeting Xiao Zhong, neglecting their economy and development on the lanes. This led to their inability to win small skirmishes.

Before the twenty-minute mark, the Shopping Street team pushed through the middle lane and destroyed the opposing team’s base, securing the victory.

By the end of the day, the Shopping Street team had played and won six matches.

However, luck wasn’t on their side—they still hadn’t matched against a celestial team.

Despite their initial low profile, the Shopping Street team gradually caught the audience’s attention, especially among mortals. Xiao Zhong became known as the “last hope of the human race,” and many mortals began enthusiastically recommending their matches to others.

Lu Yao’s plan to remain under the radar until encountering a celestial team was foiled. By midday, the mortal audience had already propelled the team’s popularity.

Not only celestials but also cultivators, demons, devils, and ghosts started paying attention to their matches.

On the second day of the conference, the Shopping Street team won every match, but they still didn’t encounter a celestial team by the end of the day.

The audience began eagerly anticipating a showdown between the two teams.

…

On the third day of the conference, only four screens floated in the air above the third-floor venue.

The individual competition had concluded the previous day.

The group competition now had eight teams remaining. With a single-elimination format, three more rounds would determine the strongest team.

The final eight teams were surprising:

• Two celestial teams
• One all-devil team
• One all-demon team
• One all-ghost team
• One all-cultivator team
• Two mixed teams with members from multiple realms

The Shopping Street team was the only team with a mortal member.

In their first match of the day, the Shopping Street team was matched against a celestial team, sparking cheers from the live audience.

The spectators had been waiting for this showdown since the previous day.

During the pre-match preparation, discussions broke out:

“Who’s stronger?”

“Probably the celestials. The Shopping Street team’s boss and that network admin guy aren’t particularly strong. The boss’s cultivation is low, and the admin is just a mortal. Their victories so far have been narrow. The ghost official and the panda demon, though—they’re beasts.”

“How can you root for them? I’m putting my bets on the admin guy. He’s the last hope of the human race.”

“In the six realms, aside from the devils, no one can truly contend with the celestials. Haven’t you been watching these past few days?”

Celestial techniques and artifacts naturally countered demons, devils, and even ghosts, who had to tread carefully.

Even the devils struggled against celestials, though their high attack and health stats made them difficult to eliminate. Battles between the two were often drawn-out stalemates.

As harsh as the assessments were, they were grounded in fact.

The match hadn’t even started, yet many spectators seemed to think the outcome was already decided.

By the third day of matches, the celestials were no longer as arrogant as they had been initially. They had spent the previous night studying the Shopping Street team in detail.

As the match began, the celestials ignored Lu Yao and Xiao Zhong, focusing their attacks on the top and bottom lanes. Translated on Hololo novels

Xiong An’an, under pressure, complained in the team voice chat, “I hate celestials.”

His opponent was a young celestial wielding a mirror artifact with mysterious properties. Whenever its light reflected on him, Xiong An’an lost all his strength. For the first time, the energetic little bear demon found himself utterly stymied by such an infuriating tactic.

Without the little Tangkang’s help, he wouldn’t have been able to hold the lane.

The Tangkang, being an auspicious beast, was less affected by the celestial artifact.

Little Ginseng was also frustrated. “My healing skill is being suppressed—its effect is halved, and the activation time is longer.”

Little Ginseng was naturally brimming with spiritual energy and excelled at healing. In previous matches, no opponent had managed to counter her abilities like this.

After observing for a while, Xue Li, the ghost official, suggested, “Lu Yao, switch with me. Little Ginseng, take mid.”

Lu Yao, having reached level five, pulled a pre-forged Firewood Rifle from her second inventory slot and swapped lanes with Little Ginseng.

Lu Yao had two skill slots geared toward long-range output, which she enhanced by continually upgrading her weapons during the match. Her third skill slot was allocated to an auxiliary refinement ability.

Taking over the bottom lane, Lu Yao assumed the main output role, while the ghost official shifted to support.

This ghost official was quite interesting.

His skill slots included Soul Hook as the first skill, Six Paths Reincarnation (Transformation) as the second, and Life Force Drain as his ultimate.

Soul Hook immobilized an opponent for 15 seconds in a soul-separated state, rendering them unable to move. Six Paths Reincarnation randomly transformed the target into one of the six realms of existence, excluding their own species, for 10 seconds. Life Force Drain was straightforwardly brutal, directly reducing the opponent’s health bar.

In the Shopping Street team’s earlier matches, their strategy relied heavily on Xue Li’s unique skill mechanics, with the bear demon serving as the main tank and the ginseng demon frantically healing.

Lu Yao and Xiao Zhong played seriously, but compared to the demon and ghost official, they seemed more like bystanders, relatively inconspicuous.

When Lu Yao switched to the bottom lane, the enemy’s oppressive control weakened.

On the top lane, the bear demon also swapped with Xiao Zhong.

Xiao Zhong carried an enormous broad-bladed sword and wore bizarrely bulky armor, causing chaos on the top lane.

The celestial team began to sense something was amiss.

Their artifacts, which were highly effective at suppressing demons and evil entities, seemed to lose much of their potency when used against humans.

The audience noticed the anomaly as well.

“What’s going on? The network admin is so strong! He’s actually holding his ground against the celestials suppressing the panda demon.”

“It’s the same on the bottom lane. I never realized the shopkeeper’s aim was this steady—almost no missed shots.”

“Remove the ‘almost.’ I haven’t seen her miss a single one.”

Lu Yao’s weapon fired willpower bullets that packed immense power.

By using willpower instead of spiritual energy, both Lu Yao and Xiao Zhong disguised themselves as weak and powerless mortals, countering the celestials’ techniques and artifacts.

Ironically, the humans, considered the most peaceful and mundane of the six realms, were both the celestials’ charges and their greatest weakness.

The seemingly powerless mortals turned out to be the perfect counter to celestial artifacts.

The human spectators in the audience stared wide-eyed, slowly digesting this startling truth.

The celestials in the spectator area, meanwhile, were expressionless under the weight of countless gazes, though internally, they were deeply uneasy.

If they had known, they might have forfeited.

Now that this vulnerability was exposed to the demons and devils, peace across the six realms could be at risk.

As the match entered the mid-game, both teams had destroyed three towers, leading to frequent skirmishes.

The two human players on the Shopping Street team took over the match. Despite lacking cultivation, the mortal Xiao Zhong wielded his sword fearlessly at the forefront, exuding a presence rivaling that of a sword cultivator.

The bear demon, ginseng demon, and ghost official focused on protecting Lu Yao, ensuring the celestials couldn’t get close to her.

A burst of golden light flashed as Lu Yao reached level 25, unlocking the sixth slot in her inventory.

Lu Yao discarded the Firewood Rifle and retrieved her final weapon: the Qiuyu Bow.

The golden bow’s limbs were entwined by a pitch-black, red-eyed demon dragon. The dragon’s head bit onto the bowstring, its tail coiled around the bow’s limbs, exuding an awe-inspiring presence.

…

Since breaking out of her shell, Qiuyu had occasionally fallen into uncontrollable rages, her state and temperament volatile.

Seeking guidance, Lu Yao consulted Zeyuan, who explained that as a dragon, Qiuyu was inherently powerful. Having fallen into demonic ways, her deep obsessions and inexperience as a newly-hatched being made it hard for her to control her desires and demonic aura.

The solution was simple: find someone capable of withstanding Qiuyu’s immense demonic energy and temper, and form a bond to share her burdens. Translated on Hololo novels.

To guide Qiuyu, Lu Yao attempted to form a contract with her and succeeded on the first try.

Not long after the contract was formed, Lu Yao once dozed off in the lounge. When she awoke, the dragon bracelet coiled around her wrist had transformed into a bow.

Qiuyu herself couldn’t explain it, only recalling a strange dream she couldn’t fully remember.

This was the first time Lu Yao had wielded the Qiuyu Bow in a match.

She drew the bowstring, and the empty bow limbs swirled with demonic energy. Three black arrows materialized out of thin air, resting between the bow limbs and string.

The little demon dragon coiled around the bow spat out three dark red flames, igniting the arrow tails with a “pop pop pop.”

Lu Yao adjusted her aim, targeting the celestial youth wielding the mirror, and released the string.

The arrows whooshed through the air and struck their target. The celestial youth’s health bar was immediately reduced by half, and his legs nearly gave out beneath him.

With the Qiuyu Bow in play, the Shopping Street team coordinated fully with Lu Yao and Xiao Zhong. Despite their best efforts, the celestial team couldn’t resist the tide turning against them.

…

The Shopping Street team pushed through and destroyed the celestial team’s main base, securing a decisive victory.

In the spectator stands, humans, cultivators, demons, and devils all stared blankly for a moment before finally reacting.

The only team with a mortal had won!

In the competition area, the team members returned from the virtual realm.

Lu Yao tilted her head as she sat in her chair, her fingers massaging her temples nonstop. “I’m exhausted. Let’s forfeit the next match.”

The Qiuyu Bow was powerful, but using it was utterly draining.

Having defeated the celestial team once, both Qiuyu and the bear demon had stopped fussing.

After two continuous days of competition, everyone was tired, and no one objected.

Lu Yao used a voice-transmission jade talisman to inform Shi Yan and his group to announce the Shopping Street team’s withdrawal.

Just then, the long-silent system notification sounded:

[Congratulations! Lu Yao’s Interdimensional Internet Café has successfully hosted the Celestial-Demon Conference. Task complete. Rewards: Popularity +1,000,000, Spirit Gathering Stones x10, Undying Fruit x1, Mustard Seed x1, God-Slaying Arrow x1. Please keep up the good work!]

[Ultimate mission unlocked! The Evil God is reviving, bringing disaster upon the six realms. Please seal the Evil God and restore peace and clarity to the six realms!]

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

The café’s third floor, after renovations, now resembled a stadium. The circular, tiered seating in the viewing area was packed with spectators—humans, demons, devils, and cultivators—all squeezed together, gazing with excitement and curiosity at the countless floating rectangular screens in the center. Each screen corresponded to a different trial arena.

Guests who had purchased tickets to the café received a numbered wristband at the entrance, which also featured a small screen.

Using the wristband, guests could freely select livestreams of matches they were interested in, focusing on one or several specific games.

Newly arrived human guests played around with the wristband, swiping their fingers across the screen. They dragged bubbles representing different matches into a row and removed the rest, leaving only their selected matches visible on the wristband screen.

“This wristband is so interesting. It works without spiritual energy.”

“That’s nothing. If you’ve never been online, you’re missing out. The internet has even cooler stuff.”

“Years ago, we’d avoid places frequented by demons and devils. Where did this strange café even come from?”

“I suspect the café’s owner and those bald-headed staff are from the online world and came here to open a shop.”

“True. None of these things exist on the Floating World Continent, nor have we ever seen people like them. But there’s plenty of this online.”

…

Compared to demons and devils, the ghosts sat farther from the humans.

Dressed in identical black robes, with pale faces and dark eyes, they occupied a single area, radiating a chilling aura.

It couldn’t be helped. Beings who didn’t enter the cycle of reincarnation after death and became ghosts underwent significant changes in appearance and constitution.

When visiting the human realm without official duties, ghosts would voluntarily keep their distance from humans.

Among the six realms, humans were the weakest. Prolonged exposure to ghostly energy could harm their lifespan.

A few celestial beings had also arrived, though their numbers were small, only about thirty or forty.

Clad in uniform white Daoist robes, they sat in a small area near the screens, their expressions indifferent, interacting with no one.

Seeing the celestials, the nearby humans didn’t dare approach or disturb them.

About half an hour later, the conference officially began. The countless floating screen fragments merged into one, displaying the café’s network manager, Xiao Zhong, whose visible awkwardness was hard to miss.

“Who’s this?”

“No idea. Judging by his hair and clothes, he looks like café staff.”

A demon nearby added, “That’s Brother Zhong, the café’s network manager and also the sect leader of the Six Realms Sect.”

“Network manager? Is that impressive?”

“Very. For one, Brother Zhong is the best gamer in the café. To this day, no one has beaten him.”

“What kind of sect is the Six Realms Sect?”

“It’s a sect known for being gaming pros. I once played a canyon game and failed to rank up after three tries. I got someone from the Six Realms Sect to help, and they finished it in less than two hours.”

“I heard the boss is also very skilled. How does she compare to this network manager?”

The demon’s expression turned awkward. “The boss is like an ancestor. Don’t mess with her if you value your life.”

Most of the inquisitive humans were newcomers who had just learned about the café. Some had visited a few times before the Celestial-Demon Conference but weren’t familiar with the boss’s reputation. Hearing the demon’s words, they thought he was exaggerating.

They had seen the boss—a young woman in her twenties with cultivation only at the Golden Core stage. She seemed clever and good at business, but nothing extraordinary.

The human spectators didn’t take the demon’s warning seriously.

Meanwhile, Xiao Zhong stood at the podium, expressionless, attempting to look composed. Inside, he was more nervous than he had been when accepting the MVP award onstage during his esports career.

With the thought of six thousand spectators from six different realms watching from the third floor and countless participants observing the livestream, he clenched his fists and took a deep breath to calm himself.

Then, trying to sound steady, he began, “In esports, the truth is not that the strong always win… Observation, decision-making, and teamwork—all can rewrite the outcome of a match. Don’t underestimate yourselves or give up easily… Victory belongs to the truly strong. That’s all.”

…

In the café’s lounge, Shi Yan’s team was also watching the livestream. Some were fans of Xiao Zhong.

An older team member chuckled so hard his eyes nearly disappeared. “Who would’ve thought K-King, a retired champion for a few months, would still be this much of a dramatic youth.”

A colleague laughed. “People online still talk about K-King, calling out their own players: ‘If you don’t take your pro career seriously, you’ll end up like him—retired and working as a network manager.’”

The older teammate, unable to hold back anymore, burst into laughter. “And here he is, managing networks and giving profound speeches as an esports elder in the cultivation world. Good thing no one in the six realms uploads videos. Otherwise, he’d be trending with a full 360-degree HD angle of his speech!”

“Are we sure this isn’t just embarrassing history?”

“Hahaha, we’ve got the livestream recordings.”

Outside, Xiao Zhong, who was just about to come in, froze, his face blank, and his toes curling in his shoes.

He hadn’t known the boss would call him up to speak at the last minute. His mind had gone completely blank when he stood on stage.

He somehow managed to finish the speech, and judging by the audience’s reaction, it seemed to have gone over well. His shaky confidence was somewhat restored.

But now, back in the lounge, a few remarks from his colleagues completely broke his composure.

Was it really that cringeworthy?

Xiao Zhong tried to recall his few minutes on stage but abruptly stopped himself.

No, he couldn’t dwell on it—there was still work to do.

He knocked on the door, paused for a few seconds until the noise inside died down, and then entered.

But the group showed no restraint, teasing him right to his face.

“…” Xiao Zhong felt like he couldn’t catch a break with this crew.

At that moment, his die-hard fan asked, “Brother Zhong, I heard someone from the café is participating too?”

Finally, a change in topic. Xiao Zhong let out a sigh of relief.

“The boss has something she wants to test in the Mirage. An’an, Little Ginseng, and Qiuyu want to play as well, so I’m tagging along,” Xiao Zhong said.

Since the café staff and disciples from the Six Realms Sect had reserved slots for the Heavenly Ladder, they hadn’t planned on competing with others for spots. With the café organizing the tournament, they were already busy enough and decided to focus on their duties.

The shop’s participants weren’t entering the individual battles. Lu Yao planned to take a few of the little ones and play a couple of rounds on the 5v5 map.

Their team included the little bear demon, Little Ginseng, Lu Yao, Xiao Zhong, and a ghost official.

The team heard that the panda cub and the festive doll would also be participating, which sent the strait-laced programmers’ excitement through the roof.

Shi Yan, who had been silently listening, suddenly looked up and asked, “The dragon girl and the piglet aren’t going?”

Qiuyu had transformed shortly after exiting the Heavenly Ladder and, being newly hatched, still appeared as a young girl. Unlike the cute festive doll Little Ginseng, the little demon dragon had a cool, fiery personality. She was exquisitely beautiful, with a commanding presence and a bold, independent demeanor.

Shi Yan had been deeply impressed by her.

“They’re going,” Xiao Zhong replied.

The situations with Qiuyu and the Tangkang piglet were more complicated, so Xiao Zhong didn’t elaborate further.

…

The conference had officially begun, and everyone’s attention quickly shifted to the trials and matches displayed on the screens, leaving little room for idle chatter.

Spectators at the venue could use their wristbands to follow specific matches closely, while also glancing up to see the overall state of all ongoing matches.

Every two hours, the individual screens would merge into one for a 20-minute intermission, during which the cumulative scores and rankings were announced.

To make things more engaging, Lu Yao borrowed from modern tournament formats and included live interviews.

The host conducted pre-arranged interviews with participants during match breaks, recording snippets to be shown on the big screens during intermissions.

For both the competitors and the audience, this new form of interaction was a refreshing and exciting experience.

On the first day of the tournament, during the morning’s first break, the café announced the standings for both the individual and team competitions, followed by interviews with the top-ranked participants in each category.

The top scorer in the individual competition across all six realms was a devil, none other than Xuanfeng, the aide to the ruler of the Demon Realm.

Though a devil, Xuanfeng had a clean and handsome appearance, with an air of grace and clarity that didn’t match the typical human stereotype of devils.

In response to the host’s questions, Xuanfeng remained composed and polite, answering with precision and charm, earning considerable goodwill from the audience.

After Xuanfeng’s interview came the interview with the leading team in the group competition. This team had won three consecutive matches in the morning, leaving their competition far behind in points.

Standing in a line before the screen, the five members immediately drew the attention of all spectators and waiting participants.

…

On the first morning of the Celestial-Demon Conference, many teams were still adjusting.

In the individual competition, participants were adapting to the illusion realm and learning to react to its challenges.

The team competition was more complex, but most participants were already familiar with MOBA-style games. Teams generally formed based on role needs, with members coming from the same race.

For example, a typical five-person cultivation team might include a sword cultivator, a talisman master, a refiner, and possibly a body cultivator paired with a healer, or maybe an aural cultivator or Buddhist practitioner.

This was a traditional gaming lineup: main damage dealer, mage, tank, support, and healer—widely recognized as balanced and effective. Translated on Hololo novels.

However, the current top-ranked team was strikingly different. Their main tank was a demon, their main damage dealer a devil, with a ghost and a talisman master handling support, and another demon refiner who brought along spirit pets.

The only thing this team didn’t include was mortals or celestials.

During the interview, the host asked, “Why did you decide to team up?”

A young demon answered, “When the café first appeared at Baixian Mountain, I was already living on the mountain. I started playing games as soon as I visited the café, trying out single-player and multiplayer games, each with its own charm.

“After playing for a long time, my favorites became canyon games and Tales of the Six Realms—games that require both skill and strategy. As the network manager said, there are no absolute strong players in games, but those who win in the end are undeniably strong.

“We don’t have the many concerns of humans, nor are we bound by the inflated pride of celestials. Why team up? Because we want to win. That’s all.”

The interview was short, but it left participants in the waiting area deep in thought.

By the afternoon, similar team configurations began appearing in the team competition.

Even in the individual competition, some participants started seeking cooperation to tackle difficult missions.

The individual competition map occasionally generated tasks to defeat powerful bosses. Since solo players couldn’t handle these bosses alone, clever participants began using in-game loudspeakers to call for allies, forming temporary teams to defeat the boss, share the materials and rewards, and then part ways.

This increasingly diverse approach to teamwork added unpredictability to the matches, making the competition more dynamic and engaging for spectators.

However, humans and celestials seemed excluded from this growing trend, as no one invited them to team up.

Humans took it in stride. As the weakest of the six realms, without even the qualifications for cultivation, they were long accustomed to this “hierarchy of disdain.” Simply watching the matches was enough to make them happy, and they didn’t dwell on it.

The celestials, however, couldn’t let it go. The interview was like a thorn lodged in their throats—impossible to swallow or spit out.

That young demon, ignorant of the lofty heights of the celestial race, had become arrogant after a few wins in the illusion realm and dared to mock the celestials.

During the midday break, celestial teams exiting the illusion realm saw the interview, their anger boiling over. Quietly, a plan for targeted retaliation began to take shape.

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

A week had passed since the live broadcast of the Heavenly Ladder dungeon beta test. On that day, the boss announced plans to hold a Celestial-Demon Conference at the café and began spreading the news.

Three days later, Lu Yao crafted new invitations and tasked Harold and Qiuyu with delivering them to major sects in the cultivation world, as well as to Liuxian City, Zhongdu City, and the Demon Realm. As for the invitations to the Netherworld, Lu Yao entrusted ghost officials to take them back.

Communicating with the Celestial Realm was initially tricky since it doesn’t interact with other realms. However, the café’s Heavenly Ladder, built with World tree, made sending invitations there surprisingly convenient.

Lu Yao had previously left behind some fragments of the Mirror of Serenity, which could serve as guiding tokens. These fragments accompanied the invitation to the hands of Immortal Lingxiao. Regardless of whether anyone from the Celestial Realm showed up, Lu Yao was determined to host the Celestial-Demon Conference with grandeur.

Still, Lu Yao was confident that with such enticing bait, it would be hard for cultivators, demons, devils, or ghosts across the Floating World Continent to refuse.

…

At Kunlun Mountain, Xiao Yi had just finished practicing his swordsmanship and was on his way back to his residence. Along the way, he overheard junior disciples discussing something. Listening closely, he realized the café had sent an invitation to the Celestial-Demon Conference.

The boss was serious. Xiao Yi still found it somewhat absurd.

No matter how capable Lu Yao was, she was only a Golden Core stage cultivator and a rogue cultivator at that, without any sect affiliation. For her to claim she would hold an Celestial-Demon Conference—never mind the demons and devils—few in the cultivation world would take her seriously.

The Celestial-Demon Conference, absent for millennia, if it were to happen at all, should be hosted by the Celestial Realm.

Xiao Yi was convinced that the sect leader and elders wouldn’t indulge the boss in this child’s play, even if the café did offer the coveted Heavenly Ladder. He had already privately investigated and learned that even without participating in the Celestial-Demon Conference, the Heavenly Ladder would eventually open to players.

After all, the ladder was created for Tales of the Six Realms. The boss clearly intended to use it to attract players, so she couldn’t keep it closed indefinitely. At most, its opening would be postponed until after the conference.

Deep in thought, Xiao Yi arrived outside his courtyard but then turned his steps toward the adjacent yard. At this hour, Senior Brother Zhu should have also finished practicing his swordsmanship.

Just as Xiao Yi reached the gate of Zhu Qingyun’s courtyard, his communication jade lit up.

It was Zhu Qingyun. “Where are you?”

Xiao Yi replied, “I just finished practicing.”

Zhu Qingyun said, “Come to the Sword Tomb on the back mountain immediately. To prepare for the Celestial-Demon Conference in half a month, the sect leader and elders have decided to open the Sword Tomb early.”

Xiao Yi: “???”

What? Kunlun was actually participating in the conference? And opening the Sword Tomb early? Xiao Yi was baffled.

He put away the communication jade and hurried to the Sword Tomb.

Kunlun’s Sword Tomb was located in the Sect’s back mountain among the peaks of Sword Valley.

Countless ancient swords, whose masters had passed, rested there. Among them were peerless swords that had even birthed sword spirits.

The sect leader had chosen this moment to open the Sword Tomb, allowing all inner disciples to enter and seek a sword. Those with the fortune to find a good blade would see a significant boost in strength.

Even now, Xiao Yi couldn’t wrap his head around why the Celestial-Demon Conference was so important.

…

Far to the southwest, at Thousand Crane Mountain, Jiujue Sect.

Sect leader Duan Nanjue had recently exited closed-door cultivation and was entertaining a group of distinguished mortal guests from Zhongdu City.

Though the visitors were ordinary mortals with no cultivation, they were quite generous, offering rare materials and straightforward payments in hopes of commissioning a batch of protective magical artifacts from Jiujue Sect.

Jiujue Sect specialized in crafting weapons and artifacts for cultivators. They had never before produced tools for ordinary mortals.

However, not long ago, a young disciple of the sect, Jian Buyi, visited the café at Baixian Mountain. There, he had come across many convenient and ingenious everyday devices: televisions, refrigerators, smartphones, air fryers, washing machines… Each item’s principles and uses were an eye-opener for the young disciples of the artifact-crafting sect.

These convenient tools required no spiritual energy and had no cultivation restrictions. Even the most ordinary mortals could operate them with ease.

Jian Buyi had seen countless fascinating things on the internet and promptly shared them with the sect.

Previously, Jian Buyi’s master, senior brothers, and sisters had already helped craft keyboards and mouse specifically designed for cultivators.

After the small tournament concluded, the disciples of Jiujue Sect began modifying voice transmission jade talismans, aiming to turn them into tools as convenient as mobile phones—usable even by mortals with no cultivation.

However, despite the small size of these items, the actual process of modification proved far more challenging than expected. Currently, the upgrade of the transmission talismans had hit a bottleneck.

Meanwhile, with the café announcing the existence of the Heavenly Ladder and proclaiming the upcoming Celestial-Demon Conference to the six realms, the number of customers visiting Jiujue Sect had surged, including a noticeable influx of mortals.

Sect leader Duan Nanjue learned from other elders that the café had recently sent an official invitation. He hadn’t had time to review it yet, as he was busy greeting guests.

Jiujue Sect, being a sect focused on crafting, generally prioritized refining skills. They occasionally explored secret realms or experimented with materials but were less enthusiastic about conflict compared to sword sects. Nevertheless, they didn’t mind taking advantage of the Celestial-Demon Conference to earn more spirit stones and resources.

After accepting several orders, Duan Nanjue was approached by more customers and remained busy until the evening, finally finding time to meet with the sect’s elders.

Having read the invitation, Duan Nanjue asked a few questions. The elder he spoke to had been the one who recently visited Baixian Mountain and watched the Heavenly Ladder livestream.

Duan Nanjue handed the invitation to the elder and tapped the armrest of his chair lightly. “We’re going to this conference.”

The elder carefully read through the invitation and solemnly nodded.

The situation at the Pill Sect, Beast Taming Sect, and Five Elements Sect was similar. Suddenly, there was a spike in requests to purchase pills, spirit pets, and talismans.

Ling Shan had already been inspired by the boss’s ideas and was working on refining pills that would also be effective for mortals.

With an influx of commissions—including many from mortals—the Pill Sect became increasingly receptive to innovative approaches. Their decision to attend the conference was made swiftly.

…

Netherworld.

Ten ghost kings gathered for a routine meeting. After discussing their affairs, they relaxed over tea and casual conversation.

A subordinate delivered the café’s invitation, which the ghost kings eagerly passed around.

King Qinguang remarked, “This is much more interesting than it was thousands of years ago.”

“Back then, it was just the Celestial and Demon clans taking turns dueling. The rest of us—spirits, ghosts, humans—were mere spectators,” King Songdi added.

King Yanluo asked, “So, are we going or not?”

King Pingdeng replied, “Of course we’re going! Not just us ghosts—demons, humans, and celestials will all go. How could we miss such an event?”

King Zhuanlun commented, “Those high-and-mighty celestials probably won’t deign to participate.”

King Songdi tossed the invitation onto the table. “That’s where the little café owner’s cunning lies. After reading this invitation, even the celestials will have to weigh their options.”

King Pingdeng chuckled. “Unless they’re willing to become the laughingstock of the six realms.”

Amid the banter, the ghost kings, long residents of the Netherworld, couldn’t help reminiscing about old events from millennia ago. Before dispersing, they instructed their attendants to make preparations.

The ghost clans would certainly attend the Celestial-Demon Conference in half a month.

…

Celestial Realm, Lingxiao Immortal’s Palace.

A paper crane carrying a letter fluttered clumsily into the palace.

Immortal Lingxiao, deep in meditation, opened his eyes and caught the crane, retrieving the letter—a formal invitation from the mortal realm.

The invitation was from the café owner, Lu Yao, of Baixian Mountain’s Interdimensional Internet Café, inviting the Celestial Clan to participate in the Celestial-Demon Conference in half a month and compete for the title of “Strongest in the Six Realms.”

Immortal Lingxiao’s eyes scanned the letter, finally resting on the last four words, “Strongest in the Six Realms.”

There is always someone stronger, somewhere beyond the sky.

Anyone with a modicum of experience and cultivation would never dare claim to be the strongest—not for lack of ambition, but out of sheer caution.

But the Celestial-Demon Conference would crown a single victor, and that victor would be recognized as the strongest in the six realms.

For cultivators on the Floating World Continent, the two words “strongest” were the most irresistible lure.

What shocked Immortal Lingxiao even more than the invitation itself was the fact that a Golden Core-stage young woman had managed to send the letter from the human realm to the celestial realm.

The last time he ventured to the human realm in search of the Lotus celestial maiden, he had come back empty-handed. Thinking back now, it seemed he needed to start with that young cultivator who broke the Mirror of Serenity. Stowing the invitation, Immortal Lingxiao hurriedly left his celestial abode.

…

In the blink of an eye, over ten days passed, and Baixian Mountain grew increasingly lively.

Xiong Pingping, hearing that the café was hosting the Celestial-Demon Conference, returned to Baixian Town and discussed with her neighbors about setting up stalls outside the café during the event to sell food and earn a bit of extra money.

Lu Yao, amused, remarked that the mountain wasn’t under her jurisdiction and suggested they ask Hengze Sect for permission.

Remarkably, Xiong Pingping mustered the courage to approach Hengze Sect.

Hengze Sect, for its part, was conflicted. The last time they secretly informed the major sects about the café, their intention had been to have the larger sects shut it down. They hadn’t expected such a cascade of events to follow.

First came the Heavenly Ladder, then the Celestial-Demon Conference, and now the mountain itself was about to be overrun by people from all realms.

However, Hengze Sect had also heard that the major sects, along with representatives from the demon, ghost, and devil clans, had all decided to participate in the conference. Just a few days ago, these groups even visited the café to submit their applications.

Participants were required to register at the café at least five days before the conference. The café would handle all event rules and logistics, with the event venue set in the Mirage of Tales of the Six Realms. However, this time, it was different from ordinary gameplay.

For the Celestial-Demon Conference battles, the café would pre-register participants’ personal information and create temporary accounts. The participants would not compete using their game characters but would enter the Mirage with their true cultivation levels and abilities.

During the live broadcast of the Heavenly Ladder, the boss, the little Tangkang, and Qiuyu had done the same. Using their game accounts as a medium, they entered the Heavenly Ladder’s illusion realm in their true forms—or rather, with their spiritual consciousness.

Submitting registration forms at the café had its share of complications, as the competition for the title of “strongest in the six realms” was highly competitive. The ghost and devil clans submitted their forms early, but the demon clan’s demon emperor had recently gone missing.

Without a leader, the demon clan delayed until half a day before the deadline to finalize their registration list. Half an hour before the cutoff, a celestial rushed in, seemingly submitting a form as well.

By this point, no one was calling the café’s event a “wild goose chase” or a “sham conference.” After all, the Celestial-Demon Conference a thousand years ago hadn’t seen representation from all six realms as this one did. It was truly grand and unprecedented.

Hengze Sect, having come to terms with the situation, not only approved Xiong Pingping’s request but also sent sect disciples to clear spaces along the mountain paths for stalls. Additionally, major sects organized patrol teams to maintain order and security for the venue and the small marketplace outside the café.

…

On the day of the Celestial-Demon Conference, Lu Yao woke up early.

The café had made extensive preparations for the event.

The third floor of the café was designated as a viewing area and opened to the public for the occasion.

Lu Yao had prepared 6,000 tickets for in-person viewing, which sold out in less than three days.

The day before the conference, the café closed to finalize preparations.

At dawn, Lu Yao opened the café doors to find a massive crowd waiting to enter, all holding tickets in hand.

She called Budu and Harold over to help, while the disciples from the Six Realms sect assisted in maintaining order at the venue.

Humans and demons entered through the main door of the café, while the devils and ghosts used a smaller door inside the café.

Each entrance had café staff checking tickets, and staff were stationed at the staircases to guide guests to their seats.

The snack bar was swarmed, with Ji Feichen helping out with sales.

Even though guests had already purchased plenty of food outside, the café’s unique and visually appealing snacks were still in high demand.

Before the Celestial-Demon Conference had even officially begun, the snack bar’s shelves—and even its storage—were wiped clean by the eager crowd.

Once all the guests were seated, the participants of the conference began entering one by one.

Lu Yao’s goal was to complete her mission, so the structure of the Celestial-Demon Conference was deliberately kept straightforward and direct, with no excessive gimmicks.

The conference was scheduled to last three days and featured only two events: individual battles and team matches.

The individual battles involved map exploration, where participants would encounter various events and challenges along their journey.

Participants were scored based on how they resolved these events, the time they took, and the extent to which the event was resolved. Each event had a unique scoring system, and the final rankings were determined by overall scores, with the top three participants in each realm and the top three across all six realms being awarded. Translated on Hololo novels.

The team matches used a cultivation-style MOBA game map. Players competed in five-versus-five matches, with the goal of destroying the opposing team’s central stronghold to win.

There were no racial restrictions in team matches, allowing players from different realms to freely form teams.

The format was a knockout-style tournament: lose a match, and your team was out.

Although the battles occurred in the Mirage, participants still needed computers as a medium to enter Tales of the Six Realms.

The café’s first and second floors had been expanded multiple times, now housing over 200 computers.

However, with more than 1,500 participants registered from all six realms, the tournament schedule was quite tight.

To ensure the system ran smoothly, the café also enlisted help from Shi Yan’s development team.

The first floor hosted the individual battles, while the second floor was designated for team matches. Both competitions ran simultaneously, with programmers split into two groups to maintain the systems for each.

At 9 a.m., the most unprecedented Celestial-Demon Conference in the history of the Floating World Continent officially began.

Lu Yao had initially planned to invite a senior figure to give an opening speech before the event started. However, with so many big names from the six realms present, none would accept another taking precedence.

To avoid disputes before the tournament even began, she sent Xiao Zhong up to say a few words instead.

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

This footage was a holographic recreation, carefully edited and preserved after Lu Yao built the Heavenly Ladder.

Lu Yao originally planned to release it after the first beta test as bait to kick off the Celestial-Demon Conference.

Today, with notable elders and even sect masters from major sects gathered at the Internet café, it was the perfect opportunity.

Not only that, Lu Yao had also prepared to livestream the first beta test of the Heavenly Ladder.

After a short segment of holographic projection, a palm-sized black butterfly slowly descended from the ink sea, gently flapping its wings. As the thin mist dispersed, the projection screen became clear again.

The appearance of the Heavenly Ladder had already caused a stir among the guests, and as the image brightened once more, the discussions gradually quieted.

The cultivation world also had similar real-time broadcasting artifacts, often using water screens or mirrors as mediums, much like television broadcasts.

The advantage of holographic projection was the immersive experience, leaving a deep impression on the viewers.

Lu Yao stood with the little Tangkang and Sishang in front of six large black-bronze gates.

To the café guests, the six gates seemed to stand right in front of them—close enough to touch. Some even felt an eerie chill emanating from the doors, as if they were truly there.

Unlike the gates of the first illusion, these six black-bronze gates were tall, ancient, and profoundly mysterious.

The guests in the hall stared up at them, completely engrossed.

The Beast Taming Sect’s sect master immediately recognized the pink piglet lying before the Myriad Beasts Gate as one originating from their sect, casting a sidelong glance at Jin Huaichen.

Jin Huaichen lowered his head respectfully. “The boss once visited the Beast Taming Sect. I truthfully told her about the little Tangkang’s condition, but she insisted on buying it. Given its situation, it wouldn’t have survived much longer. Since coming to the café, its weakness hasn’t improved, but at least it’s alive. I don’t know why the boss wants to bring it into the illusion realm.”

The Kunlun elder narrowed his eyes. “Why else? To defy fate for the piglet.”

Jin Huaichen, still young, didn’t yet understand how rare the sight before him was—a Heavenly Ladder built with World tree and Xirang.

The little Tangkang pressed its head against the black-bronze door, its hooves straining, veins bulging on its forehead, but the door didn’t budge.

The Sishang, dragging its tail, crouched at Lu Yao’s feet, tilting its head in confusion.

Lu Yao crouched down, stroking the Sishang. “Which door do you want to go through? Choose for yourself.”

The Sishang nudged Lu Yao’s hand with its head, acting coy and unwilling to move.

Lu Yao gently pushed it forward. “Don’t be afraid. No matter what kind of ‘Qiuyu’ you are, I will like you.”

The Sishang dug its claws into the ground, turning its head forcefully. Its small, beady eyes shone with a kind of endearing clarity, and it opened its tender yellow beak, chirping softly in confusion at the term “Qiuyu.”

“Qiuyu,” Lu Yao repeated, stroking its head. “I thought long and hard about this name. Do you like it?”

The Sishang suddenly became excited, turning and repeatedly nudging Lu Yao with its head.

Qiuyu.

Its name was Qiuyu.

A deep rumbling sound echoed.

The heavy black-bronze gate creaked open slightly as Lu Yao and Qiuyu looked up.

The little Tangkang had scratched deep grooves into the ground with its hooves, forcing the door open with its head.

Lu Yao walked over and encouraged it. “Kangkang, you can do it! Kangkang, keep going!”

The little Tangkang: “…”

Using every ounce of its strength, the piglet squeezed its head through the door. After another quarter of an hour, it dragged its weak hind legs inside.

The Myriad Beasts Gate slowly closed. Lu Yao reassured it, “Don’t worry. I’ll meet you inside.”

She turned toward the “World of Mirage” gate, glancing back at Qiuyu at the threshold. “Choose your path.”

Qiuyu chirped once, decisively turning and walking toward the Demon Refining Gate.

While the little Tangkang had struggled desperately to enter its gate, Qiuyu merely extended a claw, gently pushing the Demon Refining Gate open.

Perhaps wary of Lu Yao’s gaze, Qiuyu didn’t look back.

Lu Yao calmly stepped into the Mirage.

In the café hall, the guests’ expressions varied.

The Tales of the Six Realms players—

“This gate is different from the first level.”

“This is the gate to the Heavenly Ladder.”

“The boss is actually human.”

“That much is obvious.”

“…I thought she would choose the Gate of Seeking Dao.”

The newly arrived sect elders—

“What is that little creature that looks part bird, part dragon?”

The Beast Taming Sect’s sect master shook her head, her brow furrowed. “It’s not a spirit beast. It’s a demon, merely disguised as a spirit beast.”

Jin Huaichen couldn’t help but add, “It did hatch from an egg. I’ve already told the boss that this creature is highly dangerous and should be handed over to the Beast Taming Sect as soon as possible. But she seems unwilling to give up on it.”

The Beast Taming Sect’s sect master cast him a glance but said nothing.

The hot-headed elders, surprisingly, calmed down and even found chairs to sit on.

With their wealth of experience, they had already realized the boss intended for them to witness this event.

On the projection screen, after the human, the demon, and the spirit beast separated, only the boss’s figure was visible.

A shadow butterfly accompanied Lu Yao, identical to the one projecting the live feed from within.

These butterflies were the remnants of the old god of the Nitean Continent, now residing in Lu Yao’s portable warehouse. Occasionally, they were enlisted to help with tasks.

It was a long, dark path—silent and seemingly endless.

After about ten minutes, a faint light appeared ahead.

Lu Yao walked straight to the exit, where the Heavenly Ladder came into view.

Exiting the gate and walking another hundred steps, she finally reached the true Heavenly Ladder.

Six black-bronze gates were spaced evenly in six directions, surrounded by an inky sea devoid of light. The towering Heavenly Ladder shimmered with golden light, like the only beacon on a dark path.

There was no sign of the little Tangkang or Qiuyu. Lu Yao stood before the Heavenly Ladder for a moment before stepping onto the stairs—one step, two steps, three steps—then stopped, turned around, and sat down.

The café hall erupted into noise. The demons, devils, and cultivators were full of questions, louder than a swarm of a thousand mosquitoes.

“So this is the Heavenly Ladder?”

“She climbed three steps in a row—it doesn’t seem that difficult.”

“True. Isn’t the Heavenly Ladder a pathway connecting heaven and earth, as the legends say? If it’s so easy to ascend, wouldn’t we soar to the heavens in no time?”

The sect elders exchanged looks, their eyes filled with doubt.

The Heavenly Ladder, built with World tree and Xirang, couldn’t possibly be fake. They had initially underestimated this young woman.

…

Lu Yao sat on the steps, bored, and pulled out a tablet to read books Alfred had scanned for her.

About half an hour later, the little Tangkang crawled out of the Myriad Beasts Gate in a miserable state, battered and bruised, dragging itself toward the Heavenly Ladder.

As it reached the base of the Heavenly Ladder, Qiuyu emerged from the Demon Refining Gate. The wings on its back were broken, and its fur was a tangled mess—it had clearly endured significant hardships.

Lu Yao stretched out her legs and waved at the two creatures. “Come here.”

The little Tangkang was closer. Upon seeing the outstretched hand, it whimpered softly and crawled forward.

As soon as its pink hoof touched the first step of the Heavenly Ladder, it felt an immense weight press down on its back, forcing it to retreat, bow its head, and submit.

The little Tangkang’s beady eyes widened as it stubbornly stared at the pale, jade-like hand in front of it. It was the same hand that had gently brushed away the thorny leaves pressing against its back, carried it out of the seemingly endless Beast Mountain, and always caressed it softly. Every time it approached, it felt warm.

So much so that whenever that hand reached out, it couldn’t help but lean into it, wanting to nuzzle against it. And every time, she would call its name gently.

The little Tangkang refused to retreat, its whimpers turning into desperate cries.

The cub’s high-pitched cries, sharp to begin with, became even more piercing and shrill in its pain-filled screams, making them unbearably ear-splitting.

The café guests couldn’t help rubbing their arms as chills ran down their spines. The little piglet’s cries were so pitiful it made their hair stand on end. Yet, the boss remained completely unmoved, sitting there as if nothing were happening.

At that moment, Qiuyu rolled over with light taps of its feet, crying pitifully toward Lu Yao.

Lu Yao withdrew her legs and patted the spot beside her. “Come to my side. The view here is excellent.”

Qiuyu, ever obedient, didn’t miss the chance to act pitiful. It stretched a trembling paw toward the steps.

As soon as it placed its paw on the step, it let out a shrill cry.

The sound was unusual, no longer the chirping of a young bird. It was clear and resonant, piercing the heavens like the roar of a ferocious beast.

The Beast Taming Sect’s sect master’s face subtly changed upon hearing it.

The elders of Kunlun, Tianyan Sect, and Lingxiao Sword Sect also looked grim and troubled.

The little Tangkang, having just climbed the first step, was lying there utterly exhausted, gasping for breath, covered in wounds.

Qiuyu had both claws on the step and was screaming like a slaughtered pig.

The little Tangkang mustered some strength and gently licked Qiuyu’s paw.

Lu Yao: “…”

Qiuyu, tickled by the licking, looked as though it couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. It flapped its broken wings, trying to climb up with effort. Eventually, it succeeded, but not without breaking both sets of wings entirely. Dark red blood soaked its fur and dripped to the ground.

Panting heavily, Qiuyu collapsed on the step.

The little Tangkang crawled onto Qiuyu’s back and started licking its wounds.

Qiuyu: “…”

Lu Yao took out her phone and snapped a photo.

The café guests watching the scene: “…”

The first step was the easiest, but each subsequent step became more challenging.

By the time the little Tangkang reached the second step, its front hooves were bloody and mangled, and its hind legs were bruised and swollen.

Qiuyu began shedding its fur, the once soft down falling off like sharp thorns being plucked away. The little creature let out heart-wrenching cries all the way up.

On the third step, the little Tangkang collapsed halfway and fainted.

Qiuyu, covered in blood, struggled to move closer, intending to carry the little Tangkang.

A pitch-black staff reached out, tapping Qiuyu’s bald head lightly. Lu Yao’s voice was calm. “You haven’t even figured out your own path, yet you want to carry it. Qiuyu, why did you become a demon?”

Qiuyu, enraged, opened its beak and tried to bite the staff, but its claws lost their grip, and it fell back to the second step.

The café guests watched in stunned silence, sighing deeply.

It was just too difficult.

The little Tangkang, used as a cushion, woke up in shock from the impact.

This time, it seemed to have gained some understanding. It held its breath, no longer wailing, digging its front hooves firmly into the step while its hind legs tried to push.

After a long struggle, a beam of silver frost-like light descended, shining directly on the little Tangkang.

It pushed off with its hind legs, letting out a long howl, and scrambled up in one swift motion.

The little Tangkang spun around in confusion, its eyes dazed, seemingly unable to comprehend what had just happened.

Its body had doubled in size, coarse, bristly fur sprouted over its skin, and tusks extended from the sides of its mouth. All of its wounds had mysteriously healed, and even its once-weak hind legs now moved with ease.

“Ang-ang?”

Lu Yao said, “Kangkang, you’re amazing. I knew you could do it.”

The little Tangkang tilted its head, still unable to fully understand.

But its legs were healed—it no longer needed to crawl along the ground. With its cheerful and carefree nature, it immediately forgot the suffering it had just endured. Snorting softly, it began rubbing its head against Lu Yao’s leg.

Qiuyu lay on the second step, seemingly out of strength, its dim, beady eyes haunted by memories of the past.

It had been an egg, meant to hatch a thousand years ago. But due to some unforeseen accident, it had failed to break the shell on time. Drifting for a millennium, its obsession had turned Qiuyu into a demon. Finally finding a place of refuge, Qiuyu now faced the prospect of losing it all again. Qiuyu was unwilling to accept this.

Qiuyu let out a guttural roar and struggled, blood tears streaming from its eyes. Flecks of silvery light, like delicate feathers, began to fall as its small body started to transform. The snout elongated, the beak fell away, and the pitch-black, beady eyes turned round and red. Qiuyu‘S plump, bald body shrank, merging with the half-dragontail behind, now covered in smooth black scales. Its four slender claws grew short, sharp, and sturdy.

A dragon’s roar echoed through the heavens. Qiuyu rose on a cloud, soaring straight over the third step, landing beside Lu Yao. Her tail immediately coiled tightly around Lu Yao’s wrist with a mix of dominance and affection.

Lu Yao lifted her fingers to gently rub the little demon dragon’s head, her tone calm and steady. “So, you’re a dragon. That’s good—now we’ve got an Eastern dragon.”

Qiuyu swished its tail, opening its mouth as if to bite Lu Yao.

But Lu Yao’s reflexes were quick. She pressed down on Qiuyu, then reached out to tap the shadow butterfly beside her. “Come back. The first round of beta testing is over.”

The projection in the café ended simultaneously. The guests in the hall, still craning their necks to watch, froze in place for a moment before the first person snapped back to reality and grabbed Ji Zhixin. “Did you just say the Heavenly Ladder will open in half a month?”

This was no longer a game—it was a paved path to ascension.

Anyone who entered the Heavenly Ladder would have the chance to ascend.

The excitement among those who had witnessed the beta test—human, demon, or devil—was impossible to suppress. Even the sect elders couldn’t help but feel tempted.

A few minutes later, Lu Yao emerged from the lounge, her face slightly weary.

The little Tangkang, having exited the Mirage, had reverted to its piglet form and was following close behind Lu Yao like a little tail.

The little demon dragon, now unmasked, coiled around Lu Yao’s arm like a wristband, its tail tip in its mouth.

The Beast Taming Sect’s sect master crouched down to pick up the little Tangkang, inspecting it carefully. Her expression betrayed her astonishment. “Sturdy and strong—this Tangkang is indeed no longer frail.”

A demon guest squeezed through the crowd and asked loudly, “Boss, when will the Heavenly Ladder open?”

Lu Yao beamed. “In a month.”

The guest protested, “Didn’t you just say half a month?”

Before taking Qiuyu and the little Tangkang into the Mirage, Lu Yao and Alfred had run several rounds of model testing to ensure there were no safety issues. However, the results of the public beta had far exceeded expectations—the existence of the Heavenly Ladder was truly extraordinary.

Lu Yao immediately adjusted her plans and announced, “In twenty days, this shop will host the long-lost Celestial-Demon Conference, inviting talents from all six realms. The winner will gain entry to the Heavenly Ladder.”

The demons: “…”

The devils: “…”

The cultivators: “…”

The once-obscure, remote mountain of Baixian became famous thanks to the Interdimensional Internet Café. What truly skyrocketed its reputation was a new game developed by the café: Tales of the Six Realms. Translated on Hololo novels.

This game not only connected to the Mirage but also linked to the legendary Heavenly Ladder.

To climb the Heavenly Ladder was to gain the supreme opportunity to break through one’s cultivation bottleneck, possibly achieving instant ascension.

Across the vast Mortal Continent, aside from ordinary mortals uninterested in cultivation, who could resist such a temptation?

As the café’s fame grew, word began to spread even among the sharp-eared and bold mortals. Some obtained teleportation scrolls and ventured directly to Baixian Mountain.

Beyond gaming, the Interdimensional Internet Café offered a myriad of fascinating experiences.

Baixian Mountain became lively. Mortals, cultivators, demons, devils, and even ghosts adhered to the café’s rules. For the first time in millennia, all these beings coexisted peacefully in one space—occasionally even exchanging lighthearted banter.

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

The little creature’s head was stuck in the eggshell, turning flexibly in two circles before fixing its gaze on Lu Yao and letting out a soft call.

The sound resembled that of an ordinary fledgling—soft, tender, and slightly chirping.

Its head feathers were still damp, the roots gray, transitioning into a dark red, with the tips a mix of orange and yellow. Its short beak was pale yellow, slightly pointed, resembling a chick’s.

Lu Yao asked, “What kind of spiritual beast is this?”

Jin Huaichen frowned. “It looks like a phoenix, but it’s odd.”

The phoenix, a divine bird, was extremely rare; even the Beast Taming Sect hadn’t seen one in a century. However, disciples of the Beast Taming Sect would never mistake a phoenix egg, and Jin Huaichen had never considered this egg to be one.

The little creature gathered some strength and withdrew its head, starting to peck slowly at the edge of the cracked eggshell.

After about five minutes, it gradually crawled out of the shell, revealing a bare back with two pairs of fleshy wings. Its wide mouth chirped incessantly as if begging for food.

Lu Yao, concerned, wanted to prepare some food. “How do I feed it?”

Jin Huaichen’s expression grew serious, and he didn’t respond.

By this time, the creature had completely emerged from the eggshell, dragging behind it a jet-black dragon tail covered with thin, delicate scales.

A phoenix’s head, a beast’s body, a dragon’s tail, two pairs of wings, and four claws.

Neither Jin Huaichen nor the little ginseng demon could identify its species.

Lu Yao mixed warm water with milk powder and rice flour to create a thick porridge and fed it.

It ate two bowls from Little Tangfang’s food dish before curling up in the nest, looking sleepy. Each time it was about to fall asleep, it would jerk awake, shake its head, and glance at Lu Yao.

Lu Yao covered it with a blanket. “Go to sleep; everything’s fine.”

Finally, the little creature closed its eyes in peace.

Once it was asleep, Lu Yao sprinkled a handful of spirit stones into its nest and left the room with Jin Huaichen and the little ginseng demon.

The creature seemed to sense something; as the door clicked shut, it opened its beady eyes, curling its tail to gather the scattered spirit stones into a neat pile in its nest.

Noticing the weakened Little tangkang nearby, it picked the smallest spirit stone from its hoard and tossed it under Little tangkang’s belly.

Little tangkang gave a soft grunt, hugged the stone, and fell into a deep sleep.

The creature coiled protectively around its pile of spirit stones but didn’t sleep, instead raising its head to keep an eye on the door.

Outside, Jin Huaichen’s expression was grave. “It’s likely not a spiritual beast but some kind of ferocious beast.”

The little ginseng demon hung her head in guilt. “Lu Yao, I’m sorry. I thought it was a good egg.”

Lu Yao asked, “How can you be sure it’s a ferocious beast?”

The little ginseng demon shook her head. “I don’t know for certain, but its aura is aggressive and domineering. Newly hatched spiritual beasts don’t have that kind of presence.”

Jin Huaichen added, “I’ve never seen a beast cub like this, so I can’t identify its species. If it wasn’t born this way, there’s another possibility: some beasts disguise themselves as other creatures during their infancy to evade predators. But this one… its form is truly unusual.”

Lu Yao understood the implications behind their words. After a moment of thought, she replied, “Let me think it over for a few more days.”

Jin Huaichen empathized with Lu Yao’s hesitation. He remembered his first time caring for a newly hatched green peacock, and the circumstances were somewhat similar.

After all, it was a cub she had personally cared for and hatched—it was natural to feel attached.

Jin Huaichen said, “Once you’ve made your decision, you can contact me with the sound-transmitting jade talisman, and the Beast Taming Sect will handle it.”

Lu Yao nodded in acknowledgment but said nothing more.

On the second day after its birth, the creature’s downy feathers had dried, fluffing up like a ball. However, the feathers on its wings hadn’t fully grown yet, leaving them bare and comically slippery.

It was very clingy to Lu Yao, with a personality that was indeed a bit domineering.

Lu Yao, usually busy, would occasionally take a nap in the lounge, only to wake up with a warm, fluffy ball in her arms. Its tail tightly wrapped around her arm.

Sometimes, Xiong An’an would get jealous when he saw the little creature sticking to Lu Yao and would also try to get her attention.

The most absurd part was that the six-year-old bear demon couldn’t win against the five-day-old Sishang (T/N: mythical creature that embodies characteristics of four different animals, making it unique and without a direct counterpart in the natural world. The Sishang is sometimes associated with auspiciousness and is considered a symbol of good fortune.)

The poor bear cub, beaten miserably, would run off to complain to Jiao Niang.

Jiao Niang, ever gentle, comforted the little bear demon but silently increased his training tasks.

In the blink of an eye, five days had passed since the Sishang was born.

It had grown quickly, with gray-black fur tinged with dark red now covering its entire body. Even its two pairs of wings were wrapped in fur, leaving only a strange dragon tail dragging behind it.

Considering Jin Huaichen’s suggestion, Lu Yao had thought carefully about the Sishang’s potential lineage. It was still unclear what species it belonged to, but letting it grow without control was risky—there was no guarantee it wouldn’t turn into a ferocious beast.

Out of responsibility for the shop, its staff, and its customers, Lu Yao decided it was necessary to clarify the Sishang’s situation.

Cheng Ye stood at the door. “Boss, everything’s ready.”

Lu Yao sat on the lounge floor, with three laptops on the coffee table. The screens displayed the interface of Tales of the Six Realms.

The little Tangkang and the Sishang flanked Lu Yao, awkwardly extending their paws (or hooves) to poke at the keyboards.

Lu Yao said, “We’re ready too.”

The computers were logged into three level-60 beta accounts. Lu Yao planned to personally guide the little Tangkang and the Sishang through the Heavenly Ladder dungeon.

In a sense, the Tales of the Six Realms world’s ladder was infinitely close to the real Heavenly Ladder. It could temper one’s Dao heart, dispel inner demons, and reveal the essence of worldly illusions.

Since the little Tangkang and the Sishang couldn’t climb the ladder on their own, Lu Yao would accompany them.

Outside the Internet café, a teleportation array flashed rapidly.

Within moments, dozens of cultivators in various Daoist robes stepped out of the teleportation array, curiously inspecting the large sign under the Bodhi tree.

A few days earlier, Hengze Sect had sent a list and several image-recording jade slips to the major sects. Only then did the sect masters and elders learn that their young disciples had frequently been visiting a strange shop called the Interdimensional Internet Café over the past two months. Most baffling of all, the shop’s owner was an ordinary human, yet the place was often frequented by demons, devils, and occasionally ghosts.

The sect elders viewed this as a disgrace and initially intended to quietly retrieve their disciples for questioning.

The disciples were brought back, questioned, and locked up for reflection.

A few days later, however, the elders couldn’t suppress their curiosity and decided to visit the shop themselves.

It so happened that their timing was poor, and they all met at the entrance.

The awkward atmosphere outside the little Internet café thickened as the prominent elders of the cultivation world gathered there.

To ease the tension, an elder of the Kunlun Sect drew his natal sword, attempting to break the barrier around the shop. However, despite unleashing his sword energy, the barrier remained unmoved.

“…”

“…”

The atmosphere grew even more awkward.

Only the Beast Taming Sect’s sect master, an extraordinarily beautiful woman, lightly lifted the hem of her robes and swayed her peacock-feathered fan. “Let’s go in and take a look.”

The Kunlun elder coughed lightly, sheathed his natal sword, and said, “Yes.”

A group of highly skilled cultivators entered the Internet café in a grand procession. The noisy café instantly fell silent.

The demon and devil clans immediately turned vigilant, looking toward the entrance. The young cultivators sitting in the hall were struck with terror, sliding off their chairs in an attempt to escape. But it was too late—they could only hide.

The Beast Taming Sect’s sect master, however, immediately spotted a familiar mustard-yellow hem and walked over to grab its owner. “Jin Huaichen!”

Jin Huaichen’s face turned pitiful as he repeatedly begged for mercy. “Sect Master, I was momentarily foolish! Just a moment of foolishness!”

Jin Huaichen was full of complaints about this situation. Some busybody sect had informed their sect master about the Internet café, causing him to be summoned back for a scolding. But that wasn’t the worst of it—he was sentenced to a year of solitary reflection at Hundred Beasts Peak.

How could he handle all this?

Jin Huaichen had learned a lot about scientifically feeding spirit beasts from the internet. Even his initial, rudimentary attempts showed obvious results.

Recently, he had been studying incubation equipment and enrichment facilities. He was even considering setting up an area on Beast Mountain modeled after Xiong An’an’s amusement park to create an enrichment space for the little beasts.

And then there was the game. He was only two levels away from reaching level 40.

The illusions in Tales of the Six Realms were especially fascinating. Jin Huaichen’s new account was playing as a ghost cultivator.

He wanted to join the Senluo Ghost Sect. After staying on Hundred Beasts Peak for two days, he snuck out, only to have the worst luck—running into the sect master in less than half a day.

Just like Jin Huaichen, the captured sect disciples were lined up in a row, standing in the middle of the aisle. The scene was both solemn and comical.

The demon and devil customers hid behind their computer screens, biting their arms to stifle their laughter.

So human cultivators aren’t all that great. Just playing on the internet gets them treated like they’ve committed a huge crime. How hilarious.

The sect disciples hung their heads, faces flushed red with embarrassment.

The sect elders were fuming. They wanted to smash the shop and teach these overconfident demons and devils a lesson, but oddly enough, they couldn’t use any of their spells inside the shop.

The young leopard demon Wen Rong, standing nearby, said politely, “To prevent fights and disturbances among customers, the boss has set rules. No spiritual powers or techniques may be used within the café’s premises. Since you’ve found your disciples, you may take them away. Please refrain from causing trouble in the shop.”

A mere leopard demon at the Golden Core stage spoke with a tone bolder than that of a seasoned Mahayana cultivator.

The sect elders, paragons of righteousness, had never been so humiliated by words.

Infuriated, they were nevertheless bound by the rules and couldn’t impose their will.

A Kunlun elder glared angrily and shouted, “Where’s the boss? Come out and speak!”

Cheng Ye had already contacted Lu Yao, but Lu Yao was immersed in the Tales of the Six Realms illusion alongside the little Tangkang and the Sishang.

Lu Yao carried a modified voice transmission jade, specifically for communication with staff outside the realm. Upon hearing that the sect elders had arrived at the café, she immediately instructed Cheng Ye to release new CG content in the shop and prepare a livestream of the illusions.

Cheng Ye couldn’t handle everything alone and called for backup in the group chat.

Ji Zhixin, upon receiving Cheng Ye’s message, immediately rushed over from the pet cafe to maintain order.

The Kunlun elder looked at Ji Zhixin with disdain. “Are you the boss?”

Ji Zhixin shook his head.

The Beast Taming Sect’s sect master waved her feathered fan. “How bold can a mere mortal be? Sending out a small lackey at this time—clearly, the boss has already fled.”

With the boss still absent, tension in the shop rose.

Even the demons and devils, who had initially been there for entertainment, started feeling uneasy, wondering if the boss had truly been scared off by these cultivators.

Ji Zhixin maintained a calm tone. “What an unfortunate coincidence. The boss entered the illusion realm a short while ago and is unable to meet guests. However, the boss is aware of your presence and has specially prepared a gift for you.”

As his words fell, Ji Zhixin raised his voice again. “In half a month, Tales of the Six Realms will unveil its final stage. You are all invited to witness it.”

The final stage?

What could that possibly be?

The regulars at the Internet café, who had been idly watching the commotion, suddenly perked up. They were accustomed to the café coming up with new and intriguing events from time to time and immediately began to anticipate this one.

What’s it going to be this time?

Even the sect disciples standing obediently in the aisle couldn’t help but lift their heads.

The elders from the various sects exchanged looks, their gazes full of disdain.

They had walked the world for so long, seen all there was to see, and believed their Dao hearts were unshakable. How could this small, rustic shop rattle them?

Ji Zhixin snapped his fingers, and a holographic projection instantly appeared, suspended in midair.

[In the midst of a sea of ink-like fog stood a single figure. She tilted her head, gazing intently upward, gesturing repeatedly as if measuring something.]

The café regulars immediately recognized her—it was the boss.

[After a few moments, the woman reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of wood, holding it up to measure against the sky.]

The demons, devils, and younger sect disciples were puzzled. What was the boss doing with a small piece of wood?

The Kunlun elder’s face changed dramatically, and he blurted out, “That’s… the World Tree?”

The Pill Sect elder furrowed his brow. “This is the first time I’ve seen the real thing.”

The World Tree—a mythical divine tree said to connect heaven, earth, and the realm of gods. Ordinary people would never have the chance to lay eyes on it.

Even these sect elders had only ever seen its depiction in books and paintings.

The woman measured with the World Tree for a while, frowned slightly, and then pulled a clump of soil out of her pocket. Translated on Hololo novels.

The elder from Jiujue Sect paled in shock. “Xirang! What is she trying to do?”

The woman compared the Xirang with World Tree for a moment, then pulled out a jet-black measuring stick faintly glowing with golden light.

The golden light flickered briefly, and before anyone could discern her movements, they saw wooden steps rising from the ground, one after another, straight up into the clouds.

The café fell completely silent as everyone tried to process what they had just seen.

[In the midst of the ink sea, the woman lowered her head and spoke in a soft yet cold tone: “The final stage of Tales of the Six Realms—the Heavenly Ladder—is complete.”]

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