Qing'er’s words

Qing'er's words...

Not too long ago, folks were whispering that putting the ancient scroll in Qin Wentian's hands was like wrapping a precious gift for the trash heap. If he didn't cough it up, they were all gung-ho to turn him into minced meat.

Fast forward, and now Qin Wentian was giving those naysayers a taste of their own medicine. The tornado chomped down on the black-faced, middle-aged man, like a kid sucking down spaghetti, and then Qin Wentian just casually beckoned. Whoosh! The interspatial ring and shadow lance did a gravity-defying dance right into his grip.

You'd think he'd stumbled onto El Dorado with the loot he'd scored from that fourth-ranked Grandmaster's treasure trove. He was practically cackling like a villain who'd just pulled off the heist of the century.

With eyes that could freeze fire, he turned his gaze onto Eccentric Song and Old Liang, who were paler than a vampire's complexion. Eccentric Song tried to slap on a smile and put on his best "everything's fine" voice. "Qin, buddy, you've got a real knack for those Divine Inscriptions, huh? Jumping up to fourth-ranked Grandmaster before you could even grow a decent beard? Moon Continent's gonna be shakin' in its boots, mark my words. About the past, well, you know, greed can turn even wise old coots into blabbering idiots. So, if I rubbed you the wrong way before, let's call it even. I'll throw in that fourth-ranked Puppet of mine as a peace offering. Sound fair?"

Eccentric Song wrapped up his plea with a bow so deep it looked like he was trying to spot a loose thread on his shoe. But Qin Wentian's stare could've melted glaciers, and it had an edge as sharp as a samurai sword. The sword-vibes whizzed by, and even Eccentric Song's sweat started sweating.

"Oh, come on! Do we really need to end this tango with a funeral dirge?" Eccentric Song was convinced that talking about heritage and clout wouldn't work, so he switched tactics to cold, hard currency. "You let this one slide, pal, and I promise you, my payback will be better than Christmas morning. I'm talking primo stuff here."

It was like Eccentric Song had been yammering for Qin's execution just minutes ago, and now he was trying to sell him a timeshare in the Bahamas. The nerve of this guy! There wasn't a speck of regret in his voice.

In front of Qin Wentian, the sword-ballet did its grand finale, and a mondo-size sword appeared. Qin flicked a finger like he was setting off fireworks, and zap! That sword spat out a laser that played hopscotch with the space-time continuum. Eccentric Song's expression turned sour as a lemon in a pickle jar, and his face seemed to slump in on itself like deflated dough.

"Whoosh."

The laser beam turned Eccentric Song into a magician's trick gone wrong—two halves of a man who forgot how to come back together. One dude was now a puzzle missing some major pieces. The only dude still whole, though a tad on the twitchy side, was Mr. Sunken-Eyes. Old Liang could smell his impending doom like burnt toast. So, he snatched his Mary Poppins umbrella, and like a scalded cat, he high-tailed it out of there faster than a rabbit on Red Bull.

Qin Wentian was playing a zero-sum game. This young gun was in no mood to offer a pardon. It was like he'd flipped his script from "live and let live" to "mow 'em down like grass."

There was no way for him to wriggle out now, not with that sword beam zipping in. His fancy footwork came to a standstill as a hole big enough to fit a pineapple manifested itself right in the middle of his forehead.

Descending from on high, Qin Wentian got down to the business of picking the fruits of his labor. In the blink of an eye, he'd scooped up the treasures of three fourth-ranked Grandmasters. The loot was so good it'd make a pirate captain shed a tear of envy.

But, just as he was stashing away his newfound bling, the ground beneath him began to shake like a nervous wreck. Qin Wentian's eyes shifted from dazzled to laser-focused as he turned his noggin, spotting Grandmaster Penga, the silent bystander, finally breaking his vow of silence. Penga had apparently decided that the popcorn break was over and it was time for the main event. His punch packed enough punch to split mountains and fracture skies.

A fourth-ranked Grandmaster who was also a Heavenly Dipper Sovereign? Talk about showing off in both magic and might. It was like comparing a jet engine to a bicycle with a noisy bell.

And there Penga was, as if saying, "Oh, you thought I was a statue? Think again!" His Astral Nova appeared, a star-bright spear of cosmic showmanship. The Astral Light it spewed splattered the vicinity like a rainbow explosion, poppin' Qin Wentian's traps like birthday balloons. Even the sword tornado, the guest star of the evening, was losing its wind.

Penga had studied the script for so long that he was now directing the movie. He'd solved the puzzle and was ready for the boss battle. His ambush was a surprise package wrapped in thunder.

Now, Heavenly Dipper sovereignty wasn't something Yuanfu plebs like Qin could throw a housewarming party for. Even if he had a fourth-ranked Divine Weapon as a plus-one, it was like bringing a fork to a bazooka fight. As Qin Wentian backpedaled faster than a track star, he decided to send his bladed buddy into the pocket dimension while his golden-armored Puppet made its entrance.

"KABOOM!" Yet another Divine Inscription went up in smoke. Penga's Astral Nova pounced through space, aiming straight for Qin Wentian. It was like being chased by a cosmic javelin, the kind that'd punch through his ticket to this world and the next. It was the will of a Mandate, and not the cozy "thou shalt have ice cream" kind.

Qin Wentian shouted orders like a drill sergeant on steroids. His golden Puppet engaged the Astral Nova, but it seemed the spear had its own aspirations. Each thrust packed more wallop, like it was trying to break free and have a solo act. The clash between these powerhouses turned the space into a rowdy nightclub.

Penga wasn't one to mind the intermission. His grin was as sharp as a blade and pointed right at Qin Wentian. With a lightning dash, he closed the distance like a teleporting ghost on caffeine.

"Aha, Qin Wentian, my dear boy, you still have a chance. One might even call it... a slim one."

Qin Wentian's pupils did the constricting cha-cha upon hearing Bailu You's little spiel. Apparently, he was still on the "Yoink! Ancient Scroll for My Daddy" train, despite Qin's precarious situation.

"Great Elder!" The look in Bailu Yi's eyes went all puppy-dog, like she was begging for treats. She was aiming those big, watery orbs at the elder with peepers the size of saucers.

"Great Elder, don't you fantasize about a fifth-ranked Grandmaster popping out of our White Deer Institute's oven? That ancient scroll is my golden ticket to that dream," piped up Bailu Tong from the corner. The battlefield was hotter than a summer barbecue and had already snagged the spotlight of several White Deer Institute bigwigs. When they finally waltzed over to where Bailu Yi and her posse stood, they were like, "Hey, what's poppin'?"

"Qin Wentian, age nineteen, fourth-ranked Grandmaster." Bailu Yi painted the scene like a dramatic narrator. "My pal. However, our esteemed Elder Bailu Tong is more interested in turning him into pâté to score that ancient scroll from the Gold-Element Ascendant's stash." The words she spun caused the nearby onlookers to have eyes rounder than dinner plates. Nineteen-year-old fourth-ranked Grandmaster? What kind of cheat codes was this guy using?

Someone from the peanut gallery chimed in. "What happened to the other fourth-ranked Grandmasters?"

"Turned into pudding, thanks to Qin Wentian's artsy Inscriptions and tricky formations," said Bailu You with an icy edge. Clearly, he and Bailu Yi were playing a game of "Tag, You're It" when it came to Qin Wentian.

"Daddy-o." Bailu Yi turned to her father, Bailu Shan. The old man had a certain gleam in his eyes, like he'd just stumbled onto a winning lottery ticket. Meanwhile, Qin Wentian was huddled behind his makeshift fortress, using a bunch of third-ranked Inscriptions like a cobweb trying to catch a flying elephant. Problem was, the elephant had laser eyes and those Inscriptions were made of paper.

"Grandmaster Penga, chillax."

Bailu Shan decided it was time to show off his "dad-card" and flexed his aura muscles.

"Hey, Shan, what's cookin'?" In a flash, Bailu You appeared like an overeager bouncer at the nightclub entrance, blocking Bailu Shan's way.

Bailu Yi turned a few shades whiter as she pinned her hopes on the big-eyed elder. He seemed to be brewing up some masterplan, but telling her to relax was like saying "Calm down" to a volcano.

Because guess what? Penga was done with the appetizers and was ready to feast on the main course. He was slinging his Astral Nova like a pro, wrapping up Qin's fourth-ranked Puppet like a burrito. And that fiery spear in his hand? It treated Qin's defensive Inscriptions like a paper shredder attacking a stream of confetti. The spear zipped like an arrow aimed at its target.

"Bzzz." The speed was so nutty it shattered the sound barrier, unleashing a sonic boom that played like a metal album on max volume. But just as the boom was about to become a bang, a lotus decided to photobomb the show. It bloomed right in front of Qin Wentian, wreaking havoc with the spear's GPS and turning its vigor into vapor.

Out of the blue, a woman-shaped specter took a starlit stage right in front of Qin Wentian. Her curves were so perfect they could make a geometry teacher weep, all wrapped up in pristine white with her face hidden beneath a veil. She was the kind of fantasy you'd find in ancient scrolls—pure, ethereal, and ready to kick some butt.

Qin Wentian's eyes did a little tap dance of delight upon spotting her. He could always count on her to swoop in like a guardian angel, ready to flip the script at the most dramatic moment.

"Here comes the Puppet," he declared, his eyes colder than a snowstorm as he pivoted back to Penga.

"No worries... I got this," she retorted with a frosty edge. Her voice had the smoothness of melted chocolate and the chill of an Antarctic breeze. Qin Wentian couldn't help but feel like his soul was being caressed by a snowflake.

Penga's face turned into a Picasso painting, the ugly kind. Even the White Deer Institute's crew had faces that would make you think they just swallowed a sour lemon. Turns out, Qin Wentian had a literal angel backing him up. And not just any angel—an otherworldly beauty who could give the Mona Lisa a complex.

So, Mo Qingcheng was supposed to be the lucky lady in Qin's life. And then, bam! Here's this celestial goddess materializing out of thin air. Confusion hung in the air like a big neon question mark.

Wait a minute. Hadn't this mystery maiden showed up once before?

Penga glanced at the enigmatic belle and then at the gaping audience from the White Deer Institute. His mission? A lost cause.

"Goodbye." The Astral Nova put on a spin show, protecting him as he huffed away, a symphony of greed playing on his face.

Qing'er remained a statue, no pursuit, no hassle. Qin Wentian shot her a grin that could light up a blackout.

Yet, Qing'er's lashes fluttered as if she'd read his mind. And then, her lips started their own dance, crafting sound waves into a delicate thread that only Qin Wentian could catch.

"He won't flee. My Celestial Lake Palace crew is just outside. It's your day off from danger, my dear."

Those words sprouted little plants of shock in Qin Wentian's mind. Celestial Lake Palace was in the house? When did they even get here?

He scanned the area, and there they were—Di Cheng, and another dude oozing charisma. That must be Di Feng.

Right then, a light bulb flickered on in Qin Wentian's noggin. It hit him like a lightning bolt that Fairy Qingmei was his life's biggest stalker. As the reigning love interest of the Azure Emperor, she probably had enough insider secrets to fill a thousand-year diary.

All the White Deer Institute shenanigans, Di Feng's impromptu entrance, and the ever-persistent flies of trouble were probably all sitting neatly in Fairy Qingmei's inbox.

His earlier hunches were right on the money. The connection between Fairy Qingmei and the Azure Emperor was still on a rollicking rollercoaster ride, unlike the narrative they'd been feeding the gossip mill. She was the ultimate fan girl, and he was her fan-boy of choice. It was like having a one-woman cheerleading squad who happened to also hold a lot of power and secrets.

"They're here? How did I get so lucky?" Qin Wentian grinned like he'd just won a golden ticket. Just when he spilled the beans about his fourth-ranked Grandmaster status, Fairy Qingmei swooped in like a guardian angel on steroids.

Now, no matter who was pulling the strings behind Di Feng, Qin Wentian felt like he was holding all the aces.

"I'm outta here, folks," declared Grandmaster Fenrir. He had no intentions of sticking around. With a polite hand-clasp, he made his grand exit, leaving behind a flurry of farewells as he soared away like a shooting star.

As for the hangers-on of the fallen fourth-ranked Grandmasters, they vanished like ninjas with jetpacks after witnessing their bosses eat dirt. Apparently, they were convinced that if they didn't zoom out of there, Qin Wentian would turn them into next week's sandwiches.

So, here in the spotlight, only the White Deer Institute crew and the duo of Qin Wentian and Qing'er remained.

"Fourth-ranked Grandmaster!" Bailu You's voice erupted like a misplaced firework. He spun on his heel, addressing the Institute crowd with an air of, "Get a load of this guy!"

Qin Wentian sighed inwardly, rolling his eyes mentally. Bailu You, the Drama King of the White Deer Institute.