◎How did you come up with such an extraordinary idea?◎
Every ten years, the Guiyuan Sect holds a disciple recruitment ceremony.
Jiang Tingbai, who had just decided to switch from being a medical cultivator to a sword cultivator, entered the sect’s gates during one such grand examination.
According to the rules, disciples not directly accepted by an inner peak would be assigned to the outer sect.
Given Jiang Tingbai’s remarkable demeanor on the path of cultivation and his exceptional innate talent, his admission into the Guiyuan Sect’s inner ranks should have been a foregone conclusion.
However, Jiang Tingbai was determined to become a sword cultivator.
Yet, after a long, scrutinizing gaze, the Sword Peak’s master shook her head.
Having reached the realm of unity between man and sword, even her simplest words seemed to carry a sharp, metallic edge, as if ready to strike at any moment.
“I’m sorry, but the Sword Peak cannot accept you.”
Jiang Tingbai paused briefly before bowing respectfully. “This junior dares to ask for the Peak Master’s guidance.”
The Sword Peak master parted her lips—her mouth, too, seemed forged of metal, coated in a cold, coppery sheen.
“—You harbor too much compassion in your heart. You lack the resolve to become a sword cultivator.”
“……”
Given the Sword Peak master’s profound understanding of the sword path and her discerning eye, such an assessment was practically a death sentence for Jiang Tingbai’s aspirations in swordsmanship.
Most would have given up at this point.
Some of the kinder peak masters and elders exchanged glances, feeling the Sword Peak master had been too harsh. Recognizing Jiang Tingbai’s potential, they extended offers to take him under their wings.
Each of these olive branches represented a smooth and promising path forward.
Yet, without hesitation, Jiang Tingbai declined them all with the utmost courtesy.
“I apologize for disappointing your kindness,” Jiang Tingbai said gently. “But this junior still wishes to become a sword cultivator.”
“—Now that’s interesting.” A figure seated at the highest row of seats, draped in a green robe, chuckled thoughtfully. “There are three thousand paths to the Dao, and you are not without talent. Why insist on the sword path?”
Jiang Tingbai glanced up and saw a cultivator with snow-white hair cascading to his knees. Beneath the soft strands, a pair of crimson eyes seemed to glimmer.
Strangely, when this green-robed cultivator spoke, the Sword Peak master beside him suddenly clutched her stomach without warning…?
Jiang Tingbai was puzzled, but this didn’t stop him from first offering a proper bow before answering earnestly.
He was responding not just to the question but to himself.
“The way of the sword can purify the principles of heaven and earth. With a blade in hand, I wish to carve out a world of peace.”
From his seat, Ji Qinghong shook his head lightly.
“With a temperament like yours, attaining the Great Dao will be difficult.”
“However, if you’re willing, you may enter my tutelage as my disciple.”
The moment these words were spoken, the hall filled with… sighs.
The Talisman Peak master, an elderly man, whispered to the elders beside him, “Has Junior Brother Ji been particularly bored lately?”
“Extremely bored, no doubt!”
“This child has great potential. Let’s hope he doesn’t end up like the last disciple Ji took in—what happened to that one again?”
“Don’t remind me,” an elder sighed deeply. “A promising sword cultivator, yet after a while, he claimed to have seen through worldly desires, insisting that the Golden Bell Shield was the ultimate truth! He begged for a transfer and went to study at the Temple of Eternal Chant!”
“……”
Unaware of the murmurs above, Jiang Tingbai hesitated before reiterating, “But this junior… wishes to be a sword cultivator.”
Ji Qinghong smiled leisurely. “Precisely why I’m taking you in. If you wanted to switch paths, I wouldn’t keep you.”
“Thank you—”
“No need.” Ji Qinghong lazily cut him off, raising a finger.
“First, I dislike excessive politeness and unnecessary formalities.”
“Second, persisting in the impossible—you’re quite amusing.”
And so, under the pained gazes of the assembly, Jiang Tingbai became Ji Qinghong’s first disciple.
Ji Qinghong did have a penchant for guiding young talents.
As he put it, many youths were lost in their early years, needing only a nudge to set them on a brighter path.
Yet, those who had witnessed Ji Qinghong’s methods suspected he wasn’t nudging people forward—but kicking them down.
Over the past few centuries, the title of Ji Qinghong’s “first disciple” had changed hands at least two to three hundred times, surpassed in frequency only by the number of times he had renamed his peak.
Yet, Jiang Tingbai broke the trend.
He survived the illusion array Ji Qinghong set for him. When the formation shattered, Jiang Tingbai stood firm in Sulu Hall, drenched in cold sweat but gripping his sword with unprecedented resolve.
—Within the illusion, he had forged the beginnings of a sword heart.
Across from him, Ji Qinghong’s eyes widened slightly as he slowly straightened in his seat.
“Well done.”
Jiang Tingbai wiped the sweat from his brow and smiled. “Thank you for your guidance, Master. As a sword cultivator, I strive even when the path seems impossible.”
Though rumors painted Ji Qinghong as capricious and ruthless in his whims, when he chose to guide someone, he always provided the key from the very start.
And Jiang Tingbai had grasped it.
……
Years later, Jiang Tingbai reflected on the day he first entered Ji Qinghong’s tutelage.
By then, he had learned to cut back on formalities in front of Ji Qinghong and could calmly decimate his master’s black stones on the Go board without batting an eye.
On this particular day, Jiang Tingbai won by a staggering margin of over 700 points.
Ji Qinghong: “……”
After studying the devastated board, Ji Qinghong sighed. “Say something.”
Jiang Tingbai was, by nature, a rare and upright gentleman.
He neither reveled in total victory nor abandoned his respect for his master—even when said master was the most mischievous of hares.
After a brief pause, Jiang Tingbai chose a less awkward topic.
“Master, when you first accepted me, you said I would ‘struggle to attain the Great Dao.’”
Ji Qinghong responded idly, “Still dwelling on that? You grasped sword intent at Foundation Establishment—progressed quite swiftly, didn’t you?”
“No, I merely wish to understand… why you said that at the time.”
Ji Qinghong gathered the scattered stones into their box and offered an analogy.
“Like this game of Go, the board holds only black and white stones. Similarly, every cultivator in this world either attains the Great Dao or doesn’t.”
“In other words, I picked one of two answers—whichever sounded better at the time.”
Jiang Tingbai: “……”
Ji Qinghong grinned. “Why the look? I really was just saying it casually.”
Jiang Tingbai: “……”
Considering Ji Qinghong’s legendary discernment, Jiang Tingbai remained unconvinced.
Rather than making a casual remark, he was more inclined to believe that he had indeed possessed some insurmountable flaw at the time.
Perhaps it was mere coincidence, or perhaps Ji Qinghong had intentionally given him a helping hand—either way, the towering hurdle that once seemed impossible to overcome had been quietly smoothed away along the journey.
But since Ji Qinghong had said so...
In the next game of chess, Jiang Tingbai freely allowed himself to win by over two thousand points.
Ji Qinghong: "......"
"May I ask what the master sees in me?" Jiang Tingbai inquired respectfully yet warmly. "I didn’t mean to—I truly won by accident."
Ji Qinghong: "......"
That day, when Ji Qinghong left the chess room, he casually froze the teacup—liquid and all—into a block of ice.
Oh, it wasn’t an expression of displeasure.
Just a playful twist on the saying, "The pupil surpasses the master, as ice is colder than water." A compliment, in his own way.
......
In truth, after Jiang Tingbai broke through the illusionary array and was formally registered under Ji Qinghong’s name in the Guiyuan Sect’s records, a small incident occurred.
Ji Qinghong’s rules for accepting disciples seemed to have been set long ago.
When Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang became his disciples, the process wasn’t overly complicated—they simply lit incense before a portrait of Yun Sulü.
The same was true for Jiang Tingbai’s initiation.
However, after the sect’s registrar solemnly recorded Jiang Tingbai’s name under the master of Sulu Hall, Ji Qinghong suddenly called out to stop him.
Ji Qinghong said slowly, "I’ve had an idea..."
At that moment, countless rumors about how the peak’s name had been altered in the past flashed through the registrar’s mind.
The registrar thought with trepidation: ...Surely, the master of Sulu Hall isn’t planning to rename his disciple?!
As it turned out, Ji Qinghong’s naming enthusiasm hadn’t escalated to that point yet.
But what he said next made the registrar wish Jiang Tingbai had just been renamed instead!
Because Ji Qinghong declared with great enthusiasm, "I feel this eldest disciple of mine doesn’t quite suit my style as a master."
The registrar: "......"
With a numb expression, the registrar asked, "Then what does the master intend...?"
Could it be... was he planning to expel him from the sect?!
—Given Ji Qinghong’s reputation, setting a new record for the shortest time between accepting and discarding a disciple seemed entirely plausible!
As he spoke, the registrar glanced at Jiang Tingbai out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t help but admire how, even in such an awkward situation, Jiang Tingbai remained standing tall, his expression calm and faintly smiling, exuding an unshakable composure.
Yet that very composure slowly cracked when Jiang Tingbai heard Ji Qinghong’s next words.
Ji Qinghong said, "His temperament seems better suited to being Sulü’s disciple."
"How about this—erase his name from under mine, and let me... well, act as a proxy master. I’ll take him in as my junior brother instead."
Jiang Tingbai: "......"
The registrar: "......"
...What kind of extraordinary logic led you to this idea?!
Proxy discipleship wasn’t unheard of in immortal sects, but it generally required two conditions:
First, the original master was still alive, merely in seclusion.
Second, the eldest disciple hadn’t yet completed their training.
But as for the master of Sulu Hall... which condition could he possibly meet? He’d completed his own training nearly three thousand years ago!!!
To put it in perspective, this was like an elderly matriarch picking up a little girl of four or five on her way to offer incense.
First, she takes the girl in as a granddaughter, then after some thought, corrects herself: "Today, I’ll act as a proxy for my mother. From now on, this child shall be my little sister!"
—The generational discrepancy might differ, but the sheer absurdity was comparable.
The registrar was nearly driven to tears. "This... Master of Sulu Hall... we have no precedent for this."
Ji Qinghong replied amiably, "That’s precisely what makes it interesting—worth a try, don’t you think?"
The registrar: "......"
Jiang Tingbai didn’t even want to recall how he and the registrar joined forces, pleading and reasoning, to finally dissuade Ji Qinghong from his sudden whim.
Yet many years later, in the same grand hall, when Ji Qinghong accepted Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang as disciples...
The familiar scene made a triumphant return.
This time, Ji Qinghong’s suggestion was: "How about we have Wu Manshuang take Yan Luoyue as her master instead? She can be his disciple’s disciple."
Yan Luoyue: "......"
Wu Manshuang: "......"
Jiang Tingbai: "......"
Jiang Tingbai, standing to the side, couldn’t help but close his eyes for a moment.
—Without a doubt, this was a relapse of an old ailment.
