Chapter Three: Begging Senior Brother’s Forgiveness

Outside Lin Bufan’s residence.

A sharp, furious roar echoed across the land, startling the disciples who were hurrying toward the plaza; they all took a step back in fright. Glancing over, they saw it was the little ancestor again, and as if rehearsed, everyone turned their heads in unison, averting their gaze. The noisy chatter ceased abruptly, replaced by the sound of accelerated footsteps.

Inside the residence, Shen Wan heard nothing; the soundproofing was simply excellent. He watched the front door with caution—who knew if that little girl would burst in? After a long, silent wait, he finally let out a sigh of relief.

“Is everyone here so sharp-eyed? Back in high school, after three years, my math teacher still didn’t recognize me.” Ordinary as he might be, Shen Wan boasted with bravado. He would never admit to being too plain.

He rolled up his long sleeves and looked around the courtyard, finally spotting a large water vat at the base of the wall. He grabbed a plank, covered the vat, and fetched a grand chair from inside, placing it atop the plank. Keeping some distance, he stretched out his hand to measure.

The courtyard wall was about three meters high. With the chair beneath him, he could easily reach the eaves by jumping. Satisfied with his calculations, Shen Wan wasted no time; his movements were fluid and swift, and soon he perched atop the wall.

Yet, sitting on the wall, uncertainty struck. From below, it hadn’t seemed so tall, but from above, it suddenly looked dauntingly high. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he was grateful he didn’t suffer from vertigo—though his legs felt a bit wobbly.

Clinging to the wall, he slowly swung his legs over. His arms strained, and gradually, his body hung outside the wall like a slab of bacon. Shen Wan was about one meter seventy-five tall, and with his arms extended, he was less than a meter from the ground.

He congratulated himself on his math skills and couldn’t help but scorn that math teacher who never learned his name after three years. Just as he was about to let go, a woman’s voice called from below.

“What are you doing?”

The voice was clear and pleasant, but it startled Shen Wan, making him clutch the eaves even tighter.

“My goodness, do immortals have nothing better to do? Instead of cultivating, they wander around aimlessly. Am I that rare? Why does someone always notice me wherever I go?”

He cursed inwardly. The fright made his legs even weaker.

The woman gazed curiously at Shen Wan, hanging atop the wall. On Earth, such behavior would instantly mark someone as a thief, but here, she was intrigued. Everyone she knew practiced cultivation in their own ways, but hanging on a wall like this—perhaps it was a peculiar technique?

She pondered seriously, while Shen Wan was near his limit. Not daring to look down, he kindly warned, “You’d better step aside. I’m coming down—don’t want to land on you.”

The woman quickly moved back. Hearing her footsteps, Shen Wan relaxed and let go.

He landed safely, or rather, his backside hit the ground first, as his legs still hadn’t recovered. Standing up, he brushed the dust from his trousers and finally looked up at the woman.

Beautiful! Beautiful! Beautiful! Beautiful!!!! Beautiful!!!

At that moment, all the literary knowledge in Shen Wan’s belly coalesced into the perfect expression of those two words.

—

What “silken fans like white lotus, slender waist and jade belt dancing skyward.” What “beauty eclipses past and present, lotus shamed by jade visage.” What “one glance topples cities, another stirs madness.” No matter the verse, any poem praising feminine beauty could be thrown at this stunning woman and not be an exaggeration.

Shen Wan’s eyes were shining; he wanted to greet her, but his mouth failed him—no words came out.

The woman, noticing his piercing gaze fixed upon her, felt uneasy and instinctively stepped back.

“Forgive me… Senior Brother, if I’ve interrupted your cultivation. I meant no offense—please pardon me.”

She placed her hands before her waist and bowed to Shen Wan.

Just now, she realized he wore a gold-patterned blue robe—the attire reserved for the direct disciples of the elders of Qianxuan Sect. She, a mere inner disciple, wore only a plain blue robe, so calling him Senior Brother was only proper.

Shen Wan had no idea about these distinctions—after all, he was wearing Lin Bufan’s clothes without permission. Hearing her address him as Senior Brother, his heart nearly shattered; her voice was so sweet, so intimate—maybe he finally had a shot at coupling up!

Watching her gentle bow, Shen Wan hurried to respond, “No need for such courtesy, Junior Sister. Please, please rise.”

His tone was mischievously fawning.

After all, ancient people on TV always said things like this, so Shen Wan figured he was doing it right.

The woman paused, finding his words odd, but dared not question further. She thanked him and stood up.

Gazing at her face, Shen Wan felt a rush of delight, but still asked softly, “Junior Sister, passing by here, where are you headed?”

She quickly replied, “Today is the sect’s grand competition. All disciples of the Five Pavilions must attend. I was delayed by trivial matters, so I took this shortcut to make it in time for roll call.”

“Sect grand competition? What’s that?”

Shen Wan asked in confusion.

The woman looked at him, puzzled. “Senior Brother doesn’t know about the grand competition?”

He was the elder’s direct disciple—how could he not know? Doubt stirred in her heart, but Shen Wan quickly improvised, “Ah, Junior Sister, you misunderstand. I only just joined the sect, so I’m not familiar with its customs yet.”

“Just joined?”

Her expression was astonished.

“Is he kidding? Just entered the sect and already an elder’s disciple? I’ve been here three years, and if not for my family’s resources, even getting into the inner sect would be hard. Is this the gap between people?”

The more she thought, the more frustrated she felt, but she maintained a gentle smile.

“The sect grand competition is the Qianxuan Sect’s triennial disciple trial. It allows us to assess our cultivation, showcase our abilities, and perhaps attract the elders’ attention.”

“Oh, I see.”

Shen Wan stroked his chin thoughtfully. He’d heard Lin Bufan mention last night that this world was an immortal realm, where everyone pursued cultivation. If that was the case…

He grew interested. He wondered if immortal exams were like magic tricks—summoning wind and rain, surely spectacular.

The more he thought, the more he wanted to see. He gathered his trailing robe and said eagerly, “Come, take me to see.”

—

The woman hesitated, uncertain, but followed him.

As they walked, Shen Wan learned her name was Zhu Qianqing, a descendant of the Zhu family in the valley. He didn’t know what the Zhu family was, but from their conversation, he gathered it wasn’t a great clan, but a small noble house.

Ah, it seemed that capitalists were everywhere.

They chatted as they walked—often at cross purposes—but soon caught up with the stragglers and arrived at the grand arena.

The place was packed, a sea of heads stretching to the horizon. Late as they were, Shen Wan and Zhu Qianqing were squeezed to the back.

Moments later, three peals of the bell sounded, and the arena fell silent.

Shen Wan tiptoed, straining to see, but all he could spot were endless backs of heads.

At the very front, dozens of youths in white robes stood solemnly. These were the top one hundred disciples of Qianxuan Sect—the sect’s pinnacle fighters among the younger generation.

Soon, their gaze was drawn to three figures as three elders in black robes floated above, radiating authority.

Next, all disciples bowed in unison and called out, “Inner disciples of Qianxuan Sect greet the Grand Elder!”

The sound thundered across the heavens; Shen Wan’s eardrums nearly burst. He dared not stand out, so he copied the others’ salute.

Head lowered, he glanced forward through his lashes—too far, nothing could be seen.

The middle elder nodded, flung his wide sleeves, and a gentle breeze swept over the arena like a wave, instantly calming every disciple. Even the restless ones became serene.

Of course, Shen Wan felt nothing. With the crowd in front, the three elders in the air were mere black dots to him.

He had no idea what was happening—just that everyone around him suddenly looked serious, perfectly aligned, even Zhu Qianqing.

“The Grand Elder is incredible. A simple tranquility art can cover so many people. Such cultivation is truly beyond our reach,” Zhu Qianqing murmured with awe, not realizing Shen Wan heard her.

“What Grand Elder? Isn’t he just a dot?” Shen Wan thought, still squinting forward. Confirmed—it was just a dot.

Seeing the arena fall silent, the Grand Elder was clearly satisfied, hands clasped behind his back. Whether pleased with the disciples’ conduct or his own spell, he was pleased regardless.

He floated forward.

“Our Qianxuan Sect has stood for over seventeen hundred years. Though not ancient, we are a force to be reckoned with in the Valley Continent. Our strength comes from powerful heaven-grade techniques and a sect master at the Pill Soul realm.”

His voice, amplified by a spell, reached every corner of the arena, so even the disciples at the back could hear clearly.

Shen Wan, however, heard nothing; he wondered if everyone was being punished to stand still. All stood motionless, nothing happened.

He simply couldn’t hear the Grand Elder’s spirit-infused speech—if he could, he would surely mutter under his breath:

“Old sycophant!”