“That’s enough, Er Yun. The Wu Tong Tournament is Miao Miao's only chance to regain its position among the Three Mountains and Six Sects. Whoever has the highest spiritual power will represent us; that is only fair.”
Sounding weary, Song Feng said, “Go back and focus on your cultivation. Do not interfere in this duel.”
Stomping his foot, Er Yun turned and left.
Outside the hall, Zhe Sang’s eyes gleamed with a trace of satisfaction. No wonder Er Yun opposed the duel in three days—so that boy was injured.
Inside the hall, Song Feng coughed, and Zhe Sang knocked on the door before entering.
“Master.”
Song Feng looked slightly surprised. “Oh, it’s you, Sang'er. Why aren’t you resting at this late hour?”
“I came to check on you, Master,” Zhe Sang said with a look of concern. “I heard from Junior Brother that evil spirits recently appeared on the island, resulting in the loss of twelve Liu Yun disciples, and that you were injured as well. Master, what kind of evil spirit could break through our sect's formidable Heavenly Array?”
Song Feng waved a hand dismissively. “It was just a spirit coveting the East Sea’s spiritual energy. Miao Miao was able to overcome this disaster thanks to your Junior Brother Chong Zhao.”
Zhe Sang’s expression stiffened slightly, though he hid it well. “Junior Brother is a blessing to our sect.”
Song Feng looked at Zhe Sang thoughtfully, then said, “Sang'er, though the duel in three days will determine who enters Miao Miao, remember that both of you are the foundation of Miao Miao. Regardless of the outcome, do not let it damage your camaraderie.”
“Yes, Master.”
Suddenly, Song Feng waved his hand, and the jade slip fell into his grasp. He handed it to Zhe Sang, saying, “Sang'er, the Mountain-Guarding Jade Slip holds the spiritual essences left behind by the sect leaders of generations past. Take it and cultivate with it over the next three days. Although I hold Chong Zhao in high regard, I would still most wish for you, my disciple, to represent Miao Miao in the upcoming competition.”
Zhe Sang froze, showing a hint of emotion, but he did not take the jade slip. Instead, he clasped his hands respectfully and replied, “Master, two years ago I lost to Junior Brother. This time, I want to defeat him fair and square.”
Zhe Sang advanced swiftly with the guidance of Fu Ling, stepping into the ranks of Immortal Lords, but he also practiced demon clan techniques. The Mountain-Guarding Jade Slip was infused with spiritual essence, and using it for cultivation could reveal his demonic arts.
Song Feng observed him intently for a long moment, then withdrew the jade slip and waved his hand. “That you would think this way brings me comfort as your master. It’s late; your junior brother has been cultivating diligently these past years, and although you have attained the rank of Immortal Lord, you may not necessarily defeat him. Go now and cultivate well.”
“Yes,” Zhe Sang nodded, turned, and prepared to leave.
“Sang'er,” Song Feng called out as Zhe Sang reached the doorway. “The path of immortality is arduous. No matter what, remember to stay true to yourself. Don’t be tempted by shortcuts and lose sight of the mission of the immortal clan.”
Zhe Sang paused, hesitating before turning back. “Why does Master counsel me so?”
Song Feng smiled warmly. “I am old now, unsure of how much longer I can safeguard Miao Miao. Your junior brother is engrossed in cultivation and has no desire to take on Miao Miao's legacy. In the end, Miao Miao will be entrusted to you and Er Yun. My heavenly tribulation draws near, and if I suddenly fall, I may not get another chance to remind you.”
“Master’s life is bound to extend for many years. Even if the lightning tribulation arrives, I will surely protect Master,” Zhe Sang’s expression finally showed genuine concern. After all, Song Feng had raised him, and he remained dutiful to his master.
“Immortality follows its own karma. Go now,” Song Feng waved his hand dismissively.
“Yes.” Zhe Sang said no more. He gave Song Feng a deep bow before turning to leave.
Only after the sound of his footsteps faded outside the hall did Song Feng sigh softly, “Old Black, I watched this child grow up, yet now I can hardly understand him.”
Old Turtle, leaning on his cane, walked out from behind the hall, his narrow eyes reflecting the wear of centuries. “The sect leader’s heart knows best. I told you long ago, Zhe Sang is not the right choice to inherit Miao Miao.”
Anyone else witnessing the old herb-tending turtle addressing the sect leader of Miao Miao so freely would be astonished. The herb hut had low status in Miao Miao, and even Old Turtle, who managed it, typically didn’t have access to the inner island. However, Miao Miao Island, once ranked among the Three Mountains and Six Sects, held hidden depths. The island itself was the form of this millennia-old cloud turtle.
A thousand years ago, the founder of Miao Miao rescued this cloud turtle from near death during its lightning tribulation in the East Sea. In gratitude, the cloud turtle transformed into the island and coexisted with Miao Miao. From then on, the cloud turtle could never leave the East Sea and was bound to live on this island forever.
“You also said that my senior brother was unsuitable to inherit Miao Miao,” Song Feng sighed. “For that reason, he steeled his resolve, went into seclusion for a hundred years, and forced his way to the rank of Immortal Lord. If not for that, his tribulation wouldn’t be so severe, and he wouldn’t have developed evil thoughts.”
Old Turtle gave him a sidelong glance, remaining calm. “I never speak without reason. He was unsuitable, plain and simple. Your partial master favored his own son and wouldn’t heed me. If those two young ones hadn’t arrived on Miao Miao, your senior brother would have drained this island dry by now.”
Song Feng fell silent, then asked, “Do you believe these two youths can change Miao Miao’s fate?”
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