On the day of the sect competition, Qingyun Sect's training ground was bustling with activity. Banners fluttered, and disciples from all peaks, dressed in uniform robes, gathered together in an atmosphere both heated and tense. A high platform stood in the center of the training ground, surrounded by viewing seats for each peak. The sect leader and various elders sat solemnly in the main viewing area. Shen Qingci, wearing a moon-white daoist robe with a jade belt, sat in the first seat of Yuling Peak's viewing area, his posture upright, his face cold, an aloof aura surrounding him. Yet his gaze was uncontrollably locked onto Ling Xuan in the crowd, afraid of missing any sign of trouble.
The young man still wore that washed-out gray disciple robe, standing in the outer sect disciples' ranks, thin but straight-backed, out of place in the noisy surroundings. He slightly lowered his eyes, long eyelashes hiding the emotions beneath, a faint chill surrounding him as he deliberately kept his distance from other disciples, like a wild grass growing alone in the cold wind—tough and isolated. Looking at his thin figure, Shen Qingci couldn't help but feel a pang of heartache, secretly deciding that after the competition ended, he would have several well-fitted disciple robes made for Ling Xuan, plus some warm clothing. He couldn't let his "lifeline" freeze.
"Master, why are you staring at Junior Brother Ling Xuan so much today?" The senior disciple Su Mu beside him noticed the master's unusual behavior and couldn't help asking quietly. In Su Mu's memory, the master had always treated Junior Brother Ling Xuan like trash, indifferent and even frequently harsh. This kind of unwavering attention today was truly abnormal. Shen Qingci's heart tightened. He calmly withdrew his gaze, picked up the clear tea on the table, and took a sip, saying flatly: "This child's aptitude is acceptable, a moldable talent. Watching his performance in today's competition will help me judge how to teach him in the future." But inwardly he was frantically complaining: I'm not watching his ability—I'm watching who's going to provoke him and die, preventing the plot from following the original, so I can avoid the minefield in advance!
Hearing this, Su Mu's face showed understanding, and he didn't ask further. Though he felt the master was somewhat strange today, he didn't dare question it and could only sit properly, turning his gaze to the platform. Soon, the elder in charge of the competition announced the rules for this mixed tournament—inner sect and outer sect disciples would be randomly paired for duels. Winners could directly advance to the inner sect, receiving rich cultivation resources and technique rewards, while losers would remain in their original rank and continue working hard. After the rules were announced, disciples lined up to draw lots, and the atmosphere on the training ground grew even more tense.
The mixed tournament draw results came out quickly. Ling Xuan's opponent was inner sect disciple Zhao Peng. Zhao Peng was a distant relative of the Third Elder. Relying on his backing, he had always been arrogant and domineering, looking down on Ling Xuan. He thought Ling Xuan was of low birth, just a bastard with no backing, yet he could become the peak master of Yuling Peak's personal disciple. He was extremely jealous and often secretly excluded and bullied Ling Xuan. Now that he learned he would duel Ling Xuan, Zhao Peng's face was full of disdain and contempt. Before the match, he deliberately blocked Ling Xuan's path, arms crossed, his tone caustic as he mocked: "Just a bastard who crawled out of the mud, and you think you're worthy of competing with me? I advise you to admit defeat early, so you don't embarrass yourself in front of everyone and get beaten until you're crawling on the ground looking for your teeth."
The surrounding disciples gathered around, pointing and whispering. Some gloated, some sympathized with Ling Xuan, but no one dared step forward to stop Zhao Peng. The aura around Ling Xuan instantly turned cold. His fingertips clenched tightly, knuckles white, a flash of intense killing intent in his eyes. The spiritual energy around him began to stir restlessly. Shen Qingci's heart jumped to his throat, cold sweat breaking out in his palms. According to the original plot, Zhao Peng would deliberately use deadly moves during the match, each strike aimed to kill. Ling Xuan would be forced to counterattack and injure him, and the original master would publicly scold Ling Xuan for having an evil nature and being bloodthirsty, punishing him with three months of wall-facing, confiscating his cultivation resources, completely pushing him to the opposite side and making him lose all hope in the sect and his master.
"Match begins!" As the referee elder gave the order, Zhao Peng raised his longsword and charged forward with a fierce wind, his moves vicious and tricky, directly targeting Ling Xuan's vital points. He clearly intended to kill, leaving no room at all. Ling Xuan nimbly sidestepped, dodging the attack while countering with a sword thrust at Zhao Peng's wrist, trying to force him to drop his weapon. The two went back and forth, quickly falling into a fierce struggle. Sword light crisscrossed, spiritual energy collided, stirring up waves of air currents. As Zhao Peng grew increasingly frenzied and his moves more vicious, Ling Xuan's eyes grew colder, and his counterattacks gradually carried killing intent. If this continued, it would inevitably repeat the original's mistakes.
Shen Qingci could no longer sit still. He abruptly stood up, his voice cold but carrying unquestionable authority, resounding throughout the training ground: "Stop!" The sudden voice made everyone freeze. The two on the platform also instinctively stopped their movements, looking in confusion toward Yuling Peak's viewing area. Zhao Peng frowned, his tone carrying some confusion: "Master Shen?" He didn't understand why Shen Qingci would suddenly call a stop. Was he trying to favor this bastard?
Shen Qingci slowly walked down from the viewing area, his posture upright, steps steady, a powerful pressure surrounding him that made the nearby disciples unconsciously step back. He walked directly to the platform, his gaze falling on Zhao Peng, eyes icy, tone carrying obvious reprimand: "The sect competition aims at exchange and improvement, to enhance cultivation. It requires following rules and stopping at the appropriate point. You strike with killing intent at every move, clearly seeking trouble and intentionally harming others. You have no regard for sect rules at all!"
Zhao Peng's face paled. He quickly sheathed his sword and bowed in defense: "Master, this disciple only... only lost control for a moment. I didn't mean to harm him." His eyes flickered, tone panicked, clearly intimidated by Shen Qingci's presence. "No need to say more." Shen Qingci cut him off, his tone brooking no argument. "Disregarding sect rules, seeking trouble and causing harm. You are punished with three days of wall-facing, copying the 'Sect Rules Compendium' one hundred times, disqualification from this competition, and deduction of six months of cultivation resources as punishment."
As soon as these words were spoken, the entire venue erupted in uproar. Everyone was stunned. Everyone knew that Shen Qingci had always been protective of his own peak's disciples. Yet now, for an outer sect disciple he usually treated harshly, he was punishing an inner sect disciple from his own peak, and even a distant relative of the Third Elder. This was truly too abnormal. The Third Elder on the main viewing platform instantly looked displeased, but he didn't dare make a scene on the spot and could only secretly bear a grudge. The sect leader looked at Shen Qingci, a flash of confusion in his eyes, but he didn't say anything more, tacitly approving his punishment decision.
Shen Qingci breathed a long sigh of relief inwardly. Good thing I reacted quickly. I finally avoided this critical minefield and didn't let the plot follow the original. He still maintained his cold, authoritative appearance on the surface, turning to look at Ling Xuan on the platform, his tone flat but carrying a hint of encouragement: "Next match, give it your all. Don't disappoint my expectations." After speaking, he turned and calmly returned to Yuling Peak's viewing area, as if the person who had just sternly reprimanded Zhao Peng wasn't him.
Ling Xuan stood on the platform, watching Shen Qingci's back. The emotions in his eyes gradually shifted from initial wariness and confusion to complexity. Just now, when the master had stood in front of him and reprimanded Zhao Peng for him, he had subconsciously wanted to step forward and protect the master. That instinctive reaction surprised even himself. For so many years, no one had ever stood up for him, no one had ever protected him. The master's actions today were like a light shining into his heart, frozen for years, making him feel confused yet carrying a barely perceptible warmth.
The competition continued. Ling Xuan, relying on his exceptional talent, tenacious will, and Shen Qingci's secret guidance these days, fought his way through all opponents. His moves were fierce, steady and precise, defeating all challengers and ultimately winning first place in the mixed tournament, successfully entering the inner sect. When the sect leader personally awarded him the inner sect disciple token and cultivation resources, Ling Xuan stood in the center of the platform. Sunlight fell on him, as if coating him in golden light. The chill around him dissipated somewhat, replaced by a young man's high spirits.
Shen Qingci sat in the viewing area, watching the radiant young man on the platform, and couldn't help but gloat inwardly: As expected, as long as I don't court death, the male lead can still follow the right path. I just don't know if the plot deviation will trigger heavenly retribution. But whatever, let's save my life first. He picked up the clear tea and leisurely took a sip, an imperceptible smile appearing on his face.
After the competition ended, the disciples gradually dispersed, and the training ground slowly quieted down. Ling Xuan actively caught up with Shen Qingci, who was preparing to return to Yuling Peak, his steps light yet carrying some hesitation. The setting sun cast golden afterglow over the mountains, stretching their shadows long. Ling Xuan stopped and turned to look at Shen Qingci. His lips moved, and after a moment of silence, he asked quietly: "Why did Master help me today?" His tone carried inquiry and a barely perceptible expectation. He wanted to know if the master had really started to care about him, or if there was another purpose.
Shen Qingci was caught off guard by the question. His mind raced, about to make up a reason to brush it off, like "You're my disciple, of course I'll protect you," but Ling Xuan turned first, leaving behind: "Whatever Master's purpose, I will remember today's kindness," before quickly walking toward Yuling Peak, his back straight and determined.
Shen Qingci stood in place, watching his back, both flustered and confused. He felt that from today onward, everything was developing in an uncontrollable direction. The original plot had already shown obvious deviations, and he couldn't predict what would happen in the future. What he didn't notice was a subtle fluctuation in the air around him, like a stone dropped into a calm lake, creating ripples—the heavenly path's predetermined plot had experienced its first obvious stutter. The gears of fate had begun turning in an entirely new direction.