Chapter Thirteen: An Apprentice Won Through Rivalry

Chapter Thirteen: The Apprentice Was Fought Over

For Fang Junmei, deciding whether to join was truly not a difficult matter—did he have any better options?

“Thank you, Senior. I am willing to join your sect!”

After a brief moment of thought, Fang Junmei bowed and replied. Though his expression remained calm, he could barely contain the excitement surging within him.

He had crossed seas and mountains, braved ridges blocked by monstrous beasts, and now he was finally about to step through the gates of the immortals. In this moment, every hardship seemed worthwhile.

As for whether this Peach Blossom Sword Sect was righteous or evil, Fang Junmei neither asked nor cared much. Having come from Sword North Mountain City, a sect steeped in the underworld, he understood better than most that as long as one could guard their own heart, it made no difference whether one entered a demonic or orthodox path.

Besides, judging from the events at Mount Luofu and the conduct of the Elder Tianhe, they didn’t seem like fiends or demons at all.

“Very well, follow me to the Ancestral Hall.”

Elder Tianhe, seeing Fang Junmei’s composure, grew even more delighted and nodded with satisfaction.

“Senior, are you going to take me as your disciple?” Fang Junmei asked happily, for one look at this old man told him he was no ordinary figure.

Elder Tianhe nodded slightly, but after a moment’s thought, frowned. “Perhaps not. I still owe someone else a disciple.”

Fang Junmei was taken aback.

“Never mind, let me give myself a chance as well. If he doesn’t make it in time, I’ll take you as my disciple myself.”

With that, he turned and left.

Fang Junmei followed Elder Tianhe out of the house, his mind swirling with confusion.

…

The moment he stepped outside, Fang Junmei’s senses were shaken once more, his pupils dilating in awe.

Where moments before there had been persistent drizzle, now the morning sun was rising.

Behind him stood a simple wooden cabin, perched atop a solitary, jutting cliff. Just a dozen paces ahead lay a sheer drop into the void.

Low wild grasses grew upon the cliff, with only a few towering trees, each tens of zhang high, their blossoms resembling peach flowers. They cast broad patches of shade that merged together, enveloping the wooden hut in cool tranquility.

When the world’s blossoms have withered in April, the mountain peach trees begin to bloom.

A breeze swept by, scattering petals in a flurry of color. The beauty of the scene defied description; the air was so fragrant, so pure and clear, it felt as if he had stepped into another realm. Fang Junmei’s vision seemed sharper, the world more vivid—not merely from the rain’s cleansing.

“This is Peach Blossom Cliff, where I usually cultivate in solitude. Boy, stop daydreaming and follow me,” Elder Tianhe chuckled at Fang Junmei’s wide-eyed wonder, then led the way down a winding stone stair descending the cliffside.

Fang Junmei hurried after him.

Now realizing he had truly arrived at the Peach Blossom Sword Sect, Fang Junmei couldn’t help but steal glances at his surroundings as they went.

The cliff stood at a great height, level with drifting white clouds. From among the clouds came the occasional calls of strange birds and beasts. Peering closely, Fang Junmei caught sight of enormous birds he had never seen before, and bizarre, winged creatures gliding through the air—so large as to be nearly terrifying, yet all existed in peaceful harmony.

He even saw people riding on sword-light, flitting through the clouds—men and women alike, all strikingly handsome, their garments fluttering like the immortals of legend.

The land below was lush with vibrant flowers and grasses, streams and waterfalls crisscrossing the terrain. Most of the plants were unfamiliar to Fang Junmei, many towering high above him, making people seem small in this world. Everything he saw filled him with breathless wonder.

Most abundant of all were the peach blossoms, blooming in profusion—white, pale pink, crimson—so beautiful they took his breath away.

From the edge of the cliff down to the distant ground below was nearly a thousand zhang. Along the mountainside, the cliffs, beside streams, and in the valleys, countless grand or modest halls and houses were scattered, lending the place a distinctly human touch.

Far-off voices carried on the wind, vibrant with life and lively activity.

“This must be the immortal realm,” Fang Junmei could not help but murmur.

---

“This is no immortal realm,” Elder Tianhe, walking ahead, heard Fang Junmei’s words and replied without turning, “This is your sect from now on—the mountain gate of the Peach Blossom Sword Sect, Peach Blossom Valley. Like Mount Luofu, it is merely a blessed land far from the mundane world. Because it is nourished by spiritual energy, the scenery is splendid and full of vitality.”

Fang Junmei nodded. Of course he knew this, but could only think to praise it with such words.

Elder Tianhe continued, “We are worshipped as immortals by mortals, but we are merely cultivators with greater power, still far from true immortality.”

There was deep emotion in his voice.

Fang Junmei, reminded of something, quickened his steps to walk beside Elder Tianhe and asked, “May I ask, Senior, how many years do you have left?”

“Why do you ask?” Elder Tianhe glanced at him with a smile, but did not answer directly.

Fang Junmei gave an embarrassed grin and recounted his sword-carrying master’s dying regret. In the end, he said, “My original intention in seeking the Dao was to fulfill my master’s wish—to defy time, to catch up with the years, and never again suffer the pain of limited lifespan.”

Elder Tianhe nodded slightly. “That’s a reasonable goal, but even an old fellow like me, who has cultivated for over a thousand years, is still bound by the limits of lifespan. The road to true immortality is still far away.”

Learning that the elder was over a thousand years old, Fang Junmei was first shocked, then grew thoughtful at the latter words.

“Boy, seeking the Dao is about more than immortality. I hope that one day, you’ll find a greater purpose worthy of your talent and gifts.”

Elder Tianhe turned to Fang Junmei, his gaze full of expectation, his expression earnest.

“Thank you, Senior, for your guidance.” Fang Junmei was startled, then bowed deeply.

Elder Tianhe nodded again and continued ahead.

…

No doubt the old man had means to travel more swiftly, but for some reason, he chose to walk.

Along the way, many disciples stood guard at various posts.

Seeing Elder Tianhe, each one loudly paid their respects to the sect master, and when their eyes swept over Fang Junmei, they shot him looks of intense envy.

Fang Junmei was no naïve boy; he could guess why they envied him, and his anticipation for the future only grew.

For now, Elder Tianhe did not rush to introduce him to the sect—there would be time for that later.

As they walked, Elder Tianhe suddenly frowned, as if he had noticed something. After pausing for a moment, he said nothing and continued on.

They walked for nearly half an incense stick’s time before finally entering a grand hall.

The hall was not overly ornate but exuded an ancient simplicity, as if it had stood for countless years. The walls were mottled, overgrown with lush green vines.

Inside, a towering statue, some ten zhang high, immediately drew the eye. It depicted an immortal-looking elder in Daoist robes, a long sword on his back, his gaze upright and resolute—so lifelike it seemed about to speak.

Beneath the statue stood eight or nine men and women, most appearing middle-aged or older.

As the two entered, every eye fixed on Fang Junmei, examining him closely.

A rough-looking man in a gray robe, exuding a palpable killing aura, was the first to nod, then strode up with a hearty laugh, saluted Elder Tianhe, and said, “Thank you, Senior Brother Sect Master, for finding such a talented youth for our Peach Blossom Sword Sect. All my disciples on Morning Sun Peak are useless—let me take this boy to teach, I won’t let his talent go to waste!”

With a cheeky grin, he didn’t even wait for Elder Tianhe’s reply before reaching out a big hand to grab Fang Junmei, as if he meant to snatch him away on the spot!

“Keep your hands to yourself!” Elder Tianhe snapped, flicking a finger. The gray-robed man quickly withdrew his hand.

“Junior Brother Tianfeng, your fiery temper has filled your disciples with bloodlust and belligerence. Who knows what this boy would become under your tutelage? Clearly, he should learn under me,” said a second, a gaunt, bamboo-like cultivator in black robes, whose aura was somewhat sinister and whose very brows warned strangers away.

“Are you joking, Senior Brother Tianzhu?” the hot-tempered Tianfeng snapped, his demeanor changing in an instant. “Look at this kid—he’s brimming with righteous energy, as bold as fire. If he joined you, what would you do, turn him into another gloomy ghost?”

Even Fang Junmei’s handsome face flushed at these words.

“Gloomy ghost, am I?” Tianzhu retorted coldly. “You can’t even beat me—what right do you have to be his master?”

“My fellow brothers, most on my peak are female cultivators, and we could use some masculine energy. This boy would fit perfectly under my guidance,” a female cultivator interjected.

“Otherwise, my peak only has a couple of little fish, not a single outstanding disciple among them. Senior Brother, have mercy—let this boy become my disciple instead,” a fourth voice chimed in, tinged with a sob that might or might not have been genuine.

“…”

“…”

The others all began to argue as well.

The scene grew lively, with every possible mannerism on display.

Only now did Fang Junmei realize how sought-after he was.

In fact, he didn’t know that his casual revelation of the flaw in the Blossom Sword Technique had already spread throughout Peach Blossom Valley—word was out that the sect master had brought back a sword genius.

Many disciples were both envious and jealous. Even several elders who hadn’t gone to Mount Luofu, upon hearing the details, eagerly vied to take him as their disciple. During his time unconscious, Elder Tianhe’s door had all but been trampled flat by petitioners.

Looking at this scene, which resembled a bustling marketplace just short of chaos, Elder Tianhe’s face grew darker and darker.

“Enough! Silence!” he roared, his voice booming like thunder.

At last, the grand hall quieted, the others looking sheepish.

Elder Tianhe swept his stern, cold gaze over them all. “No need to fight—this boy will be my disciple. That’s final.”

So domineering and resolute.

The others’ faces twitched in various ways; some fell silent, others refused to yield. Tianfeng’s voice was low and resentful: “Senior Brother, you already have Gu Xijin as your disciple, and now you want to snatch this boy too? Isn’t that a bit greedy?”

“He’s right!” emboldened by Tianfeng’s protest, the others cared little for Tianhe’s authority now.

“If Senior Brother insists on taking this one, then hand over Xijin to us.”

…

The hall erupted again in debate. This was the first time Fang Junmei had heard the name Gu Xijin.

As the argument renewed, his fellow brothers and sisters seemed on the verge of mutiny, and Elder Tianhe’s face grew even darker. Feeling it was time to assert his authority as sect master, he prepared to shout them down once more.

Just then, a voice called from outside the hall.

“Uncle Sect Master, fellow uncles and aunts, have you forgotten? You all still owe our Unmoving Peak a disciple!”

It was the voice of a young man, gentle and clear, unhurried and calm, flowing like a clear stream—so pleasant to the ear.