"Are they...?" Cheng Yuan asked in a cracked, shaky voice, his hand trembling as he pointed at Peng Zhen and Gui Bingwen, who were currently swallowed up in a golden cloud. His voice was so low it should have been lost in the vast courtroom, but to those present, even the faintest whisper was as clear as a dragon's roar.
"They're fine. Just a little worn out from the journey, that's all," Feng Xin replied offhandedly.
Cheng Yuan exhaled deeply, relief washing over him. But as he glanced at the bald figure among them, a nagging doubt crept into his mind.
"How does exhaustion make someone lose all their hair?"
He dared not voice the thought, instead eyeing the healing cloud suspiciously. After a moment, his expression eased, and he let out another sigh. Regardless of any personal feuds, he couldn't remain indifferent if something had truly happened to them. Among those still alive in the sect, he had known Peng Zhen and Gui Bingwen the longest. He had trusted them. At least, he thought he had. After today's revelations, he wasn't so sure anymore.
"Yang Qing, what did you do to those talismans?" Feng Xin growled, grinding his teeth. "One of them activated instantly before I even had time to escape! If I hadn't been with Ellie, we'd have been caught in the blast!"
"Huh, there was something wrong with them? I thought these were my best talismans yet," said Yang Qing, with a baffled look.
"Maybe I got a little overzealous when making them. I had just stabilized my realm and managed to pull a fast one on that old fiend Lei Weiyuan. I was still riding that high when I started working on the talismans, and, well… things got away from me.
By the time I came to, there were piles of them lying around. I was in a bit of a dissociative fugue state, so I don't even remember what tweaks I made in that state. I just knew their general abilities and effects. But it couldn't have been that bad, could it? I may not be an expert in talisman crafting, but I know enough to be skilled at it." Yang Qing nervously laughed, scratching the back of his head.
"You… You… You—Yang Qing, did you just use me as a guinea pig for your talismans?!" Feng Xin sputtered, spittle flying as he pointed a trembling finger at Yang Qing.
"Calm down, Feng Xin. At least you're back safe and sound, right? From the looks of it, not all of them malfunctioned," Yang Qing said, raising a brow. "Though I am curious—which one went wrong? I might have been absent-minded while making them, but I have full confidence in their stability and the foundation I built them on. I crafted them using the insights I gained when breaking through to the palace stage. Those talismans even ended up carrying my dao marks as a result giving them an enhanced level of spirituality. I'm surprised there were any accidents at all." He stroked his smooth chin in thought.
Feng Xin calmed down the moment Yang Qing mentioned his dao marks. For all his laziness, deviousness, excessive appetite, and shameless leeching—essentially a glorified parasite the Order could never seem to get rid of—one of Yang Qing's few redeeming qualities was his meticulous approach to cultivation. If there was anything that matched the effort he put into scheming for a soft life, it was the dedication he poured into his cultivation.
The Order was a place that gathered talents from all walks of life. Those who passed through its gates constantly pushed the boundaries of what it meant to be an elite or a genius. But then there were those for whom such boundaries simply didn't exist. They weren't merely prodigies—they were monsters, cultivators who defied normal conventions and achieved the unimaginable.
There were figures like Zhang Qingge, who became one of the youngest palace-stage judges and cultivators at just nineteen. What earned her the title of 'monster' wasn't just her cultivation speed but her terrifying battle aptitude. As a seventh-stage core formation expert, she fought a quasi-palace stage expert with a blue core for 35 hours before she finally lost due to exhaustion.
Then there was the oddity, Kang Huilang, who achieved mastery over two different types of intent within months of each other. For most cultivators, attaining even a single intent was a lifelong struggle, and only the fortunate might grasp it after decades of training.
Geniuses among geniuses could achieve one in a year, but to wield two different intents? That was almost unheard of.
Intents were astral manifestations of a cultivator's understanding of their weapon, whether it be a sword, saber, fist, spear, dagger, or palm. Achieving one required absolute dedication, not just to mastery of the weapon but also to self-understanding.
This was why most cultivators only ever developed a single type of intent in their lifetimes. Yet Kang Huilang, the oddity, possessed two. Worse still for his opponents, he had an uncanny talent for wielding any weapon as if he'd spent years training with it. The moment a weapon touched his hands, it became an extension of himself—his movements smooth and natural, as though he had been born with it. Even if he had only picked it up a month ago, it would seem as though he had trained with it for a lifetime.
There was a young alchemist who had already touched the threshold of becoming a blue-grade alchemist while still in the foundation stage. In the world of alchemy, those who reached the blue grade were individuals who had delved so deeply into the alchemy dao that the pills and potions they crafted bore spirits of their own—a feat that separated mere experts from true pioneers.
Then there was a figure within the Order who had single-handedly created one-tenth of its purple-grade cultivation arts. Purple-grade arts represented the pinnacle of cultivation techniques, so rare and powerful that even holy lands would go to war over them. Among rank-one organizations, few possessed even a single one, and those that did valued them above all else, including the lives of their highest-ranked members.
Because of their immense value, creating even a single purple-grade art in one's lifetime would immortalize a cultivator as a legend for countless generations—but creating multiple? That was simply unthinkable.
The reason Feng Xin calmed down was because Yang Qing belonged to this class of monsters within the Order. Back when he was merely at the core formation stage, he had already refined several red-grade cultivation techniques into the orange grade, and his abilities only grew from there. He eventually evolved one red-grade art all the way to the blue grade, an achievement that solidified his reputation.
Over time, his talents expanded to the point where he could even restore broken or incomplete cultivation techniques.
There was no denying that Yang Qing had an uncanny talent for parsing through different daos. Refining and improving a technique wasn't just about mastering it—it required a cultivator to grasp its essence, glimpse its dao, and build upon it without destroying its foundation. Whether it was harder to perfect someone else's technique or to create an entirely new one had always been a matter of debate, but those who could do either were rare. Yang Qing, however, had proven himself capable of both.
"It was the talisman with the Cascading Dawn Whirlpool technique. The moment I input a bit of qi into it—even before I crushed the talisman—the technique activated on its own and nearly swallowed us all in its whirlpool," Feng Xin patiently explained.
Meanwhile, the golden cloud enveloping Peng Zhen and Gui Bingwen had already dissipated, revealing their improved condition. Oddly enough, even Gui Bingwen's hair had started growing back—except instead of its previous white, it was now jet black.
"Mmmh... the Cascading Dawn Whirlpool technique, huh? It swallows the enemy and drowns them in yellow and black rays while also targeting their soul," Yang Qing muttered, deep in thought. "But I don't recall making any changes to that spell—it's already well-rounded in its offense. Wait… the problem you were talking about—was it just that it released early? Nothing else?"
"What do you mean nothing else?" Feng Xin asked through clenched teeth. "We were almost swallowed up in that whirlpool!" His voice was thick with exasperation and grievance, only growing worse when he saw Yang Qing's utterly nonchalant expression.
"Phew, that's good then. The instantaneous activation wasn't a malfunction—it was intentional," Yang Qing said, sighing in relief as a smile spread across his face.
Feng Xin's eye twitched.
"Before you blow your top, at least let me explain," Yang Qing continued. "I may mess around a lot, but I wouldn't joke with your lives. You and Yi Jie know me well enough to know that, don't you?"
Feng Xin didn't respond immediately, but his silence was as good as an answer. He might not trust Yang Qing to hold onto his food, but when it came to having his back—he never doubted him.
"It's because of the recent attacks on the Order's people that I altered a few talismans," Yang Qing explained. "Feng Xin, you may have exceptional agility and reaction speed, but that still isn't enough—especially against someone in the palace realm. You saw firsthand during our spar just how vast that gap is, and that was with me holding back.
Now, what would you do if you faced someone at my level—or worse, above it? Your best option would be to run, but what if they're as fast as me? That leaves only one choice—using talismans to aid your escape. But normal talismans have a slight activation delay, and while it may seem small, it's more than enough for a palace realm cultivator to nullify it. Even though I just broke through, I already have fifty different ways to stop someone from using their talismans. Imagine what a more seasoned or craftier palace cultivator could do.
Talismans are meant to be trump cards, but their biggest flaw is that delay. That's why I modified some to require only the tiniest bit of qi input to trigger instant activation. Yes, there's a risk of getting caught in the spell yourself, but at least this way, you have a chance. That said… I should have told you beforehand. For that, I'm sorry." Yang Qing cupped his fists in apology.
Feng Xin let out a breath. "I figured as much. I hoped that was the case—though I still suffered for it." A small smile tugged at his lips as he waved his right hand, the sleeve torn. "You owe me five meals and that 3,000-year-old glacial rice wine of yours."
Yang Qing's expression darkened. "Give someone an inch, and they take a mile… I knew you had your eye on that!" He scowled. "That's my private stash—not for gluttonous company. But… I will share a cup of Jiang Fu's new brew. He's about to break through and promised me the first pot of his oolong tea."
A greedy smile formed on his face, a tiny drop of drool leaking out.
"He is!?" Feng Xin exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with excitement. A greedy, drooling smile spread across his face as he clasped his hands together.
The two, traded gazes, giggling and gulping nonstop, lost in the sheer anticipation of the promised tea.
Mao Yunru shook her head, exasperated. These two are truly cut from the same cloth… She had no doubt Feng Xin had come storming in, making a fuss and playing the pitiful act just to squeeze a free meal out of Yang Qing. How can two people be so similar?
At the side, Yi Jie let out a long, tired sigh. It was clear he had come to the exact same conclusion.