The brilliance of the “Small Qiankun Realm” flickered, but the commotion within had already come to an end.
Ye Chen’s final rounds of evaluation ended without suspense.
There were no heart-stopping sword lights crossing, nor the overwhelming force of spiritual power clashing.
Everything ended quietly, so subdued it could even be called dull.
Ten victories in ten battles.
He was too strong—so strong it was as if he didn’t belong among his peers.
“Let’s go, Young Master, let’s go home!”
As soon as the evaluation ended, before the crowd could gather, a warm, small hand firmly grabbed Ye Chen’s wrist.
The tiny voice carried a hint of urgency, pulling him toward the edge of the crowd.
Ye Chen’s steps paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping toward Su Ying, who was about to stand up not far away.
Su Ying met his eyes, glanced at the small hand tightly holding his, and nodded lightly before remaining in place.
“Why so urgent?”
Ye Chen let her pull him, asking.
“You’ll know when we get back!”
Xiaoxiao’s reply held a trace of mystery, her steps growing lighter and quicker, like a sparrow eager to return to its nest.
The setting sun stretched the shadows of the two long across the ground.
When they returned to Ye Chen’s secluded courtyard, Ye Chen’s steps halted at the entrance.
He raised his head, looking toward the old tree within the courtyard.
A strange aura lingered in the air, out of place with the surroundings.
“There’s someone inside.”
Ye Chen stated calmly.
No, that wasn’t right.
His divine sense swept gently, and his brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.
It wasn’t one person.
There were clearly two powerful yet restrained presences in the courtyard.
One was mysterious and unfathomable; the other was heavy as a mountain—yet so skillfully concealed that, were it not for Ye Chen’s spirit being far above ordinary, it would have gone unnoticed.
“Mm!”
Xiaoxiao replied, not surprised in the slightest.
Instead, she tightened her grip and pushed open the door, entering with him.
Within the courtyard, a figure stood with her back to them, gazing at the moon high in the sky.
Her palace robe was spotless, untouched by a speck of dust.
The night wind brushed past, making her sleeves flutter slightly, as if she might drift away at any moment.
She simply stood with her hands clasped behind her back, yet she seemed completely separated from her surroundings, giving off an innate sense of distance.
She was the master of Heavenly Sword Peak—Elder Qingyu.
“Master.”
Xiaoxiao released Ye Chen’s hand and stepped forward, bowing respectfully.
Elder Qingyu slowly turned.
Her face was shrouded in a faint light, making it hard to discern, but her eyes were as sharp as swords—holding a cold, all-seeing detachment.
She smiled at Xiaoxiao, then turned her gaze to Ye Chen.
“Disciple Ye Chen greets Elder Qingyu.”
Ye Chen bowed slightly, neither humble nor arrogant.
“Master, Master! Did you see it all?”
Xiaoxiao hurried to Elder Qingyu’s side, her tone brimming with excitement and the desire for praise.
“Right? Didn’t I say the Young Master—oh no, didn’t I say Ye Chen is very strong! He could truly be your disciple, not just a nominal one!”
Her eyes sparkled with anticipation, like a child eager to show off a treasure to their parent.
Elder Qingyu looked at her beloved disciple with a trace of helplessness, a sigh hidden deep within her eyes.
She then turned to Ye Chen, speaking coldly:
“I saw everything you did today in the Small Qiankun Realm. To have such understanding of the sword at the Foundation Establishment stage is indeed impressive.”
The single word “impressive” was already high praise from her.
So that’s how it was.
Clarity dawned in Ye Chen’s heart.
He finally understood why Xiaoxiao had acted so out of character today, giving up cultivation to insist on watching his matches.
This had all been a carefully arranged “demonstration.”
Using his performance as a way to earn a promotion in status.
Hearing Elder Qingyu’s approval, Xiaoxiao’s eyes instantly lit up.
She looked at Ye Chen in excitement, waving her fist as if to say, “We did it!”
Elder Qingyu’s gaze softened with even more helplessness at her pupil’s innocence.
She reached out and gently patted Xiaoxiao’s shoulder.
“Xiaoxiao, according to our agreement, you should leave now.”
Her tone was gentle yet firm.
“What follows is between me and Ye Chen.”
“Ah…alright.”
The thrill in Xiaoxiao’s heart faded.
Though reluctant, she knew she couldn’t disobey her master.
She answered softly, then turned and whispered to Ye Chen:
“You must pass Master’s assessment, Young Master!”
With that, she left the courtyard, looking back at every step, filled with reluctance.
As Xiaoxiao’s figure vanished, the warmth she brought evaporated, and the atmosphere instantly plunged to freezing.
Ye Chen stood calmly, facing the unfathomable elder of the Purple Heaven Sword Sect.
“Your talent is average.”
Elder Qingyu didn’t mince words.
“If things followed their natural course, there would be no bond of master and disciple between us. But I couldn’t refuse Xiaoxiao’s repeated requests.”
She paused, her voice devoid of emotion.
“Ye Chen, listen well. From today on, you may move into Heavenly Sword Peak, free from the constraints of the inner sect. You may enter and exit the Library Pavilion and Cultivation Chambers at will.”
She left Ye Chen no room to speak—nor did she seek his opinion.
To her, this was not a negotiation, but a gift—a decree.
The opinion of a mere inner disciple was meaningless.
“You may cultivate as you wish, study any technique, or spar with disciples of other peaks. I will not interfere.”
At this point, her tone grew colder.
“But…”
She slowly turned her back again, facing the lonely moon, as if the following words were too disdainful to say to his face.
The instant she turned, the aura that had been hidden within the courtyard suddenly emerged.
A tall, burly figure stepped silently from the shadows.
It was a male disciple, appearing slightly older, built like a tower with a strong face, tiger eyes shining with intensity.
The aura he exuded was that of an early-stage Golden Core cultivator.
This was Elder Qingyu’s true trump card.
The man approached Ye Chen, looking down with a voice deep as thunder.
“Did you understand the Elder’s words, brat? Such a great opportunity is given to you only for Xiaoxiao’s sake. But you’d best know your place.”
His words carried undisguised threat.
“Xiaoxiao is a once-in-ten-thousand-years genius—a hope for Heavenly Sword Peak, a phoenix destined to soar the skies. You are merely an ant on the ground.”
“The Elder means you may bask in the light, but you must never reach for it.”
“Stay away from her. Don’t let her waste another moment on the likes of you. Otherwise…”
He stepped forward, his overwhelming pressure descending like a mountain upon Ye Chen.
“The consequences will be more than you can bear.”
Yet Ye Chen simply listened, face calm and unruffled.
That calmness caused the rest of the threat to stick in the Golden Core disciple’s throat.
Because Ye Chen’s eyes were too steady—the eyes of a chess player who’d seen through the game, looking at the struggling pieces on the board.
Ye Chen understood.
This disciple was but a pawn pushed forward by Elder Qingyu.
The true orchestrator of this crude intimidation was the very elder who stood aloof, back turned.
Their aim was simply to make him retreat, to distance himself from Xiaoxiao.
Which, coincidentally, aligned perfectly with Ye Chen’s own wishes.
He had always hoped Xiaoxiao would slowly overcome her dependence on him and walk her own path of cultivation.
Elder Qingyu’s actions had only helped him along.
Seeing Ye Chen only smile without replying, Elder Qingyu slowly nodded.
To her, this was acquiescence and fear.
Before absolute power, what could a youth from the mundane world do but remain silent?
The goal was achieved.
She flicked her finger, and a white jade token engraved with a Sword Imprint floated before Ye Chen.
“This is the pass for Heavenly Sword Peak.”
Before her words faded, her figure became a beam of clear light, shooting skyward and vanishing into the night, as if she had never been there at all.
Elder Qingyu was gone, but the Golden Core disciple remained.
The courtyard returned to silence.
Ye Chen accepted the token, looking at the strong youth before him.
“Why are you still here?”
The menace on the disciple’s face had already faded, replaced by a deeply conflicted, almost fearful expression.
He drew a deep breath, then did something that took Ye Chen by surprise.
He pulled a letter from his robe and offered it with both hands.
Then, with a formal clench of his fist, he bowed.
“Junior brother, I apologize for earlier…”
With that, he turned and strode away, as if every second longer was torture.
Ye Chen looked at the letter in his hand, puzzled.
He opened it and unfolded the paper.
Under the moonlight, lines of powerful yet somewhat sloppy writing appeared.
It was a letter of apology.
The words were sincere, describing in detail the difficulties of being an elder’s direct disciple, unable to go against his master’s orders.
He repeatedly emphasized that everything said earlier was by command, not from the heart.
At the end, it read:
“…Xiaoxiao is a peerless beauty, and her bond with junior brother is deep—truly a match made in heaven. What I did today was forced by circumstance.
Please forgive me and do not hold it against me. If you and Xiaoxiao become a couple in the future, please remember my predicament today and do not seek trouble with your senior brother…”
Ye Chen couldn’t help but laugh at the almost pleading words.
So, this fierce-looking senior was not performing for Ye Chen.
His true audience was the future Xiaoxiao, who might come to settle accounts once her cultivation matured.
The night wind stirred, and the old tree in the courtyard rustled softly.