Time flew by, and three days had passed.
Wen Shuangbai had already completed all the necessary arrangements she could make, and now she was just waiting for news from Xie Ziyin and Lu Jiayao.
Senior Sister Zhuohua and Shen Hefeng were each meditating in their own rooms, while Yin Xuan, who had been dosed with sleeping incense, was still fast asleep. Meanwhile, Four Hundred Bucks had gone out for a stroll early in the morning—no one knew where.
Ever since this brush had gained artificial limbs, its range of movement had expanded from the Endless House to the entire Qingling Academy.
Four Hundred Bucks' logic was impeccable.
It reasoned that, judging by the name, Qingling Academy clearly belonged to Qingling Mountain. Since its owner was a disciple of Qingling Mountain, and it was its owner's brush, then—by extension—the entire courtyard practically belonged to it.
Thus, Four Hundred Bucks proudly patrolled its territory every day, chest puffed out with pride.
As for the world beyond Qingling Academy? Well… for now, a mere brush like itself didn’t dare venture out alone.
After all, the only one who would take it out for fun, Lu Jiayao, had gone off on a mission with Xie Ziyin.
[Shuangbai, Shuangbai, I’m heading out! I’ll be back before dark—don’t miss me!]
Wen Shuangbai picked up the note Four Hundred Bucks had left on the table, glanced at it, shook her head, and casually tossed it into a drawer labeled "Four Hundred Bucks' Exclusive Storage."
With two out of the six people absent, the Endless House was unusually quiet, and Wen Shuangbai found it a bit unsettling.
She sat down at the table, propped her chin in her hand, and stared blankly out the window for a while before shaking her head, slapping her cheeks lightly, and focusing her mind. Since she had nothing urgent to do, she decided to continue piecing together the jumbled paper scraps she had been working on earlier.
Once she realized that the scraps were actually two mixed-up images, her progress had sped up significantly.
If Wen Feng hadn’t suddenly shown up to ruin the mood, she probably would have finished long ago—instead, she still hadn’t completed the first picture.
Just as she was deeply engrossed in the task, someone suddenly patted her shoulder from behind, nearly scaring her to death.
"......"
Damn it, has that idiot Shen Hefeng come back?
Wen Shuangbai turned around with an expressionless face, a tickling talisman already in hand.
She was going to murder him.
But it turned out to be Yin Xuan, his hair a disheveled mess from sleep.
"......" Wen Shuangbai blinked. "Senior Brother, why didn’t you knock?"
Yin Xuan, still half-asleep and dazed like a sleepwalker, replied in a voice so faint it was barely audible, "I did knock. You just didn’t hear me, Junior Sister."
Wen Shuangbai: "Alright then. Senior Brother, did you need something?"
"Junior Sister, something feels off."
Yin Xuan loved sleeping, but he wasn’t stupid—he knew the difference between dozing off naturally and being knocked out.
The moment he woke up, he went straight to Xie Ziyin’s room to settle the score, only to find a bunch of strange objects inside, including a man-eating flower that kept slamming itself against a spiritual barrier.
In short, Xie Ziyin had fled the scene of the crime. So Yin Xuan immediately came to his junior sister to complain, declaring with certainty, "Junior Brother Xie drugged me with sleeping incense."
Hearing this, Wen Shuangbai instinctively blinked and exclaimed loudly—and guiltily—"How could Xie Ziyin do such a thing! To dare use such underhanded tactics against you, Senior Brother—he’s utterly shameless!"
Yin Xuan: "?"
He tilted his head, studying his junior sister’s face for a moment before sighing in disappointment. "So you’re in cahoots with Junior Brother Xie."
Wen Shuangbai gave an awkward chuckle.
After a brief silence, Yin Xuan sighed softly. "Has Master arrived?"
Wen Shuangbai didn’t hide it. "Yes."
Her senior brother might seem absent-minded, but his mind was sharp—he understood everything.
After another moment of thought, Yin Xuan suddenly looked up, his pupils dilating slightly as his voice trembled with dread. "Wait—did Junior Brother Xie… go poison Master for you?"
"......Of course not!" Wen Shuangbai was speechless for a second before looking wounded. "How could you think that, Senior Brother? I would never ask Xie Ziyin to poison my own father! He’s my biological dad, for heaven’s sake."
Yin Xuan wasn’t entirely convinced. Knowing these two as he did, he was pretty sure his master was doomed.
Ruffling his own hair, he asked gloomily, "Really?"
"Really!" Wen Shuangbai declared solemnly. "Not only did we not poison him, I even found him a wonderful adopted son—guaranteed to keep him living in luxury for the rest of his life. How filial is that?"
Yin Xuan was baffled. "?"
Just then, the Mystic Heaven Mirror on the table vibrated. Wen Shuangbai opened it and saw the long-awaited message from Xie Ziyin.
Her face immediately lit up with joy. "Speak of the devil—here he is now. Come on, Senior Brother, let me introduce you to my father’s new son."
---
In the meeting hall of Qingling Academy, Cao Xing was hard at work drafting documents. Every seven days, he had to submit a report detailing all the academy’s affairs to the sect.
As he wrote, he suddenly felt something amiss and turned his head.
There, right beside him, stood a small wooden figure peeking curiously at his work.
Cao Xing: "......"
He swept his wide sleeve over the documents, shielding them from view, and said sternly, "These are confidential reports of Qingling Mountain. They’re not for your eyes."
Four Hundred Bucks: Huh? Can’t look?
The little wooden figure scratched its head with a wooden hand, pulled out a blank sheet of paper, extended its brush tip, and began writing:
[Sorry, sorry, I didn’t know it was off-limits. But Elder Cao, you’ve made twelve typos, and many of your word choices are imprecise. Also… your handwriting is a bit messy. Do you practice calligraphy often?]
Cao Xing: "………………"
Seriously, was this brush for real? Walking into someone else’s home and insulting their handwriting—wasn’t that a bit much?
Cao Xing and Four Hundred Bucks stared at each other, one with human eyes, the other with wooden ones.
Finally, Cao Xing stiffly asked, "Might I ask which characters I wrote wrong, and where my wording was imprecise?"
At that, Four Hundred Bucks immediately hopped over and began boldly marking up Cao Xing’s report with corrections.
Cao Xing stared at his now thoroughly edited document.
So this is why Elder Qian always hinted that I should read more…
While Cao Xing was lost in self-reflection, Four Hundred Bucks pulled out another sheet and swiftly rewrote the entire report in flawless script—neat, error-free, and perfectly phrased, like something out of a textbook.
Cao Xing: "…………"
Being outdone by a brush… how humiliating.
He picked up a stack of blank papers and placed them in front of Four Hundred Bucks. "Three spirit stones per document. How about it?"
Four Hundred Bucks was stunned!
There was actually such a good deal in the world? Getting paid just to write?!
Four Hundred Bucks: [Deal! I can write a ton!]
With the paperwork now outsourced to Four Hundred Bucks, the perpetually overworked Cao Xing finally had some free time.
He considered going out for a stroll—after all, he’d been in the imperial capital for a while now but hadn’t had the chance to explore.
As soon as he stepped out of the meeting room, he saw a group of elders—usually elusive and nowhere to be found—gathered together, their faces urgent as they hurried out the door, muttering excitedly, "Hurry, hurry! If we’re late, we’ll miss it!"
Even Xu Jingshu had her head lowered, flipping through a book while following the elders ahead.
Cao Xing quickly stopped her. "Elder Xu, what’s going on?"
"Oh, we're going to watch a show," Xu Jingshu replied casually. "Want to come, Little Cao?"
Cao Xing: "..."
Half an hour later.
Hidden in the shadows, Wen Shuangbai twitched at the sight of the Qingling Academy elders craning their necks from a corner.
Shen Hefeng remarked, "Why is Old Cao here? Isn’t he usually busy?"
"We don’t need him to worry about us," Li Zhuohua said. "Of course he’s free!"
Yin Xuan didn’t speak, settling into a good vantage point behind the bushes to observe the group loitering near the inn. Many of them looked familiar—his master’s old creditors.
---
Wen Shuangbai had agreed to meet Wen Feng three days later at dawn, promising to personally deliver 100,000 spirit stones to him at the inn.
But on the appointed day, Wen Feng waited and waited. The sun climbed high, nearing noon, yet his unfilial daughter was nowhere to be seen.
Realizing he’d been fooled again, Wen Feng stormed downstairs in a rage.
Fine. If she wouldn’t come, he’d go to her!
After all, she still had to participate in the Sacred Tower competition—she couldn’t leave the Imperial City’s Qingling Academy.
He’d finally understood: his daughter was unreliable. So he’d go to Yin Xuan instead.
Surely Yin Xuan wouldn’t abandon his master.
But the moment Wen Feng stepped out of the inn, a fist came flying through the air, striking him square in the face.
He reacted quickly, but years of drinking and gambling had dulled his reflexes. His body couldn’t keep up, and he was knocked flat on his back.
The creditors who’d chased him across provinces immediately swarmed, surrounding him.
The leader grabbed Wen Feng by the collar and roared, "Wen Feng, pay up! Three million spirit stones—now! Or I’ll beat you to death!"
"And me! Two million!"
"One million for me!"
"..."
Wen Feng spat out blood and recognized the faces. He begged, "Old Yu! Old Wu! Long time no see! I remember, I remember—I’ll pay, I swear!"
Someone kicked him in the dantian—not hard enough to shatter his spirit bones (they didn’t dare; a crippled cultivator couldn’t earn money, and then they’d never get their debt back), but enough to make him scream. "Are you deaf? We said now! Hand it over!"
Wen Feng curled into a trembling ball. "I don’t have any money on me! If I did, I’d pay! Just give me a few more days—ah! Stop, stop hitting me!"
Seeing his master beaten, Yin Xuan grew restless. Wen Shuangbai pressed a hand on his shoulder and whispered, "Don’t worry, Senior Brother. They won’t kill him. He’ll just suffer a little. This is his karma—no pain, no gain, right?"
Li Zhuohua nodded. "Exactly!"
Shen Hefeng, meanwhile, was casting divination sticks, too curious about Wen Feng’s fate. The result? A draw—both sides would suffer.
Amused, he tucked the sticks away and said mysteriously, "Good days are ahead. Don’t ruin your master’s fortune, Brother Yin."
Over in the fray, Wen Feng couldn’t take it anymore. These men knew exactly where to hit to maximize pain without killing him. Desperate, he shouted, "My daughter! My daughter has money! Wen Shuangbai—you know her! She’s competing for Qingling Mountain! She’s rich! I’ll take you to her—"
"Bullshit!" A foot stomped on his forehead. "Your daughter’s broke! Didn’t you watch the competition? She was fighting tooth and nail just to earn scraps! Trying to trick us again? No way! We know you’ve got money—you just won’t pay! Hand it over!"
This was all thanks to Wen Shuangbai, who’d anonymously spread rumors that Wen Feng had struck it rich, living lavishly in the finest inns while squeezing his poor daughter for money.
Furious, the creditors had traveled far to corner him.
And sure enough, the luxurious inn confirmed the rumors.
Their rage flared, and their blows grew fiercer.
Wen Feng was helpless.
He truly didn’t have a single coin!
Just as the pain became unbearable, someone rushed forward, shoving the creditors aside and shielding the half-dead Wen Feng. "Stop! Don’t hurt Uncle Wen!"
It was Lu Ying.
The usually aloof young master of the Lu family looked disheveled from his haste.
The creditors paused, baffled.
After years of chasing debts, they’d never seen Wen Feng with such connections.
"Who are you?" one demanded.
Another recognized him. "Young Master Lu?"
"That’s right." Lu Ying glared coldly. "Who gave you permission to lay hands on Uncle Wen?"
The creditors exchanged confused glances.
What was this rich kid raving about?
One ventured, "Wen Feng owes us a lot of money..."
"How much?" Lu Ying snapped.
After some hesitation, they listed the debts—nearly twenty million spirit stones in total.
A staggering sum, but Lu Ying declared without hesitation, "I’ll repay it for Uncle Wen."
The creditors gaped. "..."
The hidden elders: "!!!"
Well, well!
They even glanced at Old Man Ye in the crowd, giving him thumbs-up. The Twin-Life Gu was working wonders!
Lu Ying’s servant, lagging behind, finally caught up. Hearing this, he nearly fainted and rushed to intervene. "Young Master! Wake up! This man has nothing to do with us!"
"Silence!" Lu Ying barked. "Are you questioning me?"
The servant dropped to his knees. "This lowly one wouldn’t dare!"
Seeing the murderous look in Lu Ying's eyes, he didn’t dare to say another word. His only priority now was to save his own skin, so he obediently followed orders and returned the money to those people.
In just a short moment, his young master’s savings from over a decade were completely wiped out. He even had to chip in over two thousand spirit stones himself to cover the full repayment.
In the distance, Wen Shuangbai watched as Lu Ying settled her father’s debts and carried him away to tend to his injuries. Overwhelmed with emotion, she grabbed Xie Ziyin, who had just returned, and exclaimed, "Thank you for bringing my sworn brother back from so far away!"
Xie Ziyin winced at the tight grip, his brows furrowing sharply, but he held back his discomfort and replied with practiced calm, "No need for thanks. It was only right."
Meanwhile, Yin Xuan stared in the direction where Wen Feng and Lu Ying had departed, his usually composed eyes widening in rare astonishment.
