Chapter 86: A Seemingly Perfect Solution

Su Chunfeng ignored Qian Ming’s shocked question. With an air of calm detachment, he stated, “By telling you all this today, my purpose was to warn you. Esoteric Technique is far more intricate than you comprehend. The path of cultivation is fraught with peril. A single misstep can lead to Qi Deviation, loss of life, or the complete dissipation of your Dao foundation. Severe cases might even endanger others. Therefore, without genuine recognition of Esoteric Technique inheritance and without a master’s guidance, you should temporarily cease your practice.”

“Then… could I become your disciple?” Qian Ming seized Su Chunfeng’s hands like a drowning man clutching a life raft, his expression desperate.

“No,” Su Chunfeng rejected him firmly. He withdrew his hands and spoke kindly, “If you truly commit to the path of cultivating Esoteric Technique, you will pay a steep price. For instance, your job, the time you spend with loved ones, your leisure time… Moreover, you must abandon vanity. You will dwell in a shadowed world, enduring isolation and loneliness. You will possess extraordinary skills yet remain unknown to ordinary people… In short, the drawbacks are manifold. Thus, I urge you to seriously reconsider before deciding whether to continue cultivating. Should you choose to pursue it, make time to visit Dongwangzhuang Village in Dongwangzhuang Township. Seek out an elder named Wang Qimin. He is a retired teacher from Dongwangzhuang Township Middle School and also a hidden master of Esoteric Technique. Become his disciple…”

Qian Ming immediately swelled with excitement, yet his voice held hesitation. “W-would he accept me?”

Su Chunfeng sighed softly. “Tell him this: Heaven bestows fate, its reign enduring long; Legacy passed down must one day fade. Technique dwells deep within this boundless realm; Schemes weave power across a vast domain.”

A shiver ran down Qian Ming’s spine. He hurriedly scribbled down the verse – though he could not grasp its meaning immediately, his familiarity with ancient texts told him this was an abstruse, profound ritual incantation.

Su Chunfeng sighed again, his tone distant. “Even after becoming his disciple, never mention me to him.”

“Why?”

“In time, you may understand.” Su Chunfeng rose and walked slowly towards the door. He casually tapped Qian Ming’s nape and said, “From this day forth, unless absolutely necessary, do not seek me out… Moreover, remember: Trouble brews from a careless mouth. This is your greatest flaw.”

“I know, I know,” Qian Ming nodded rapidly as he scrambled to see Su Chunfeng out, his back already damp with cold sweat.

“Go back.” Su Chunfeng reached the exit. Without turning, he swiftly closed the door shut behind him.

Inside, Qian Ming stood frozen by the doorway.

He still felt as though he were walking through a dream – who would believe, without experiencing it firsthand, that a mere sixteen or seventeen-year-old youth was actually a mysterious master steeped in profound skills and weary melancholy? His youthful frame seemed little more than a vessel, while his mind bore the intricate rings of epochs, inscribed with countless autumns and springs.

A demon?

A god?

Rejuvenated old sage?

Or… a soul reborn?

Qian Ming shuddered violently. Despite possessing a Yin-Yang eye since infancy, allowing him glimpses of specters invisible to others, and despite discovering ancient texts in his youth and embarking on self-taught cultivation of mystical arts, he had never imagined that entities and events more mythical than myth itself could exist. He’d certainly never expected such a figure to manifest before him, speaking, instructing, aiding him.

Fortune or calamity?

Recalling the instant Su Chunfeng tapped his nape – that surge of electric sensation piercing his mind, sparking his scalp, making his entire body tremor – Qian Ming’s fear intensified.

What did he do to me?

He likely meant no harm…

Perhaps… he simply meant to warn me: Never reveal his identity?

Yes. That must be it!

Qian Ming walked back to the table, his excitement refusing to settle. He resolved then: Never, under any circumstance, throughout his entire life, would he expose Su Chunfeng’s true self. – The sheer exhilaration of knowing this rare, almost divine being was his secret alone! Why share it? Moreover… revealing it would surely invite the furious penalties of the Divine Old Man.

Soon, Qian Ming’s thoughts surged towards the retired teacher, Wang Qimin. What would he look like? What unfathomable mastery did he possess? And the meaning behind that ritual verse Su Chunfeng shared?

Suddenly, Qian Ming slapped his thigh in bitter regret – Why hadn’t he asked Su Chunfeng about the defining stages of Esoteric Technique cultivation? The crucial thresholds and hierarchical differences between levels?

…

Across campus, vibrant clamor filled the air. On the playground, basketball courts, and soccer field, diverse sports events unfolded, surrounded by clusters of cheering students interspersed with occasional jeers and whistles – palpable youthful energy thick everywhere.

Su Chunfeng walked alone down a path flanked by melting snowdrifts. Tipping his head back to gaze at the clear blue sky, he moved slowly, musing inwardly:

Returned to life… Though I cannot become Master Wang Qimin’s disciple again, I took the risk of revealing my earth-shattering secret. Finding a disciple of truly exceptional innate aptitude like Qian Ming to inherit the Esoteric Arts for my former master… Surely, this will soothe Master’s heart?

He harbored no doubts about Wang Qimin accepting Qian Ming.

First, Qian Ming met every qualification marvelously. His advanced age mattered little, for he possessed foundational cultivation experience already. His prior practice of other Esoteric Techniques was inconsequential too – those lacked authentic lineage, and his current level had barely touched Talisman Offering Stage. Such shallow roots meant minimal future hindrance; a swift transition was possible. Crucially, his innate talent perfectly suited the Esoteric Arts.

Secondly, those ritual verses acted as a passphrase among Inheritors of Esoteric Arts. Hearing them, Wang Qimin would instantly understand.

Inheritors of Esoteric Arts were vanishingly rare worldwide.

Even Wang Qimin himself remained utterly convinced that others must exist. Though he’d lived a lifetime never encountering another Inheritor, and Su Chunfeng, despite his prominence in the Jianghu of Esoteric Arts in his past life, had neither met another nor been sought by one…

The appearance of that passphrase, besides ensuring Qian Ming’s smooth transition as Wang Qimin’s disciple and an Inheritor of Esoteric Arts, would… comfort Wang Qimin’s heart, wouldn’t it?

Su Chunfeng knew Wang Qimin too well.

In his past life, this kind-hearted elder never voiced any wish to find other Inheritors. He persevered alone, silently committed to passing down the Esoteric Arts. Yet inherently, he must have desperately yearned to meet another Inheritor – someone equally isolated.

At the very least, it would allow him to feel less alone on that solitary path.

Su Chunfeng was certain: Once Wang Qimin heard the passphrase, he’d be ecstatic, agitated, curious, and unable to resist seeking an immediate meeting with this mysterious fellow Inheritor. But so long as Qian Ming refused to reveal who had directed him to seek Wang Qimin as a master, Wang Qimin would never force the issue endlessly. Merely knowing about this mysterious fellow Inheritor – knowing that he knew of Wang Qimin’s existence – would suffice.

As for Qian Ming, Su Chunfeng felt no burden.

Regardless of Qian Ming’s future fate – whether he treaded into the Jianghu of Esoteric Arts, faced mortal dangers, or met an early demise – Su Chunfeng had saved him now.

What Su Chunfeng didn’t know was that following their previous parting, Wang Qimin had already left his home… embarking on a solitary journey to find a disciple.

…

At two o’clock in the afternoon, the final clash of this year’s interschool sports competition commenced: The County No.1 High School versus County No.2 High School soccer teams, facing off on County No.1 High School’s field.

Of course, Su Chunfeng came to watch.

High bleachers housed dignitaries: the headmasters of both schools, and County government officials. Surrounding the field stood makeshift layered seating (only two rows high), fashioned from desks and stools. Students lacking seats crowded behind, standing to witness the match.

A referee (a former provincial league player, now a County Sports Bureau official) presided, aided by two head coaches acting as linesmen – one from each school.

Both teams fielded their finest players, battling with fierce energy on the pitch.

By halftime, the score stood at 2-1, County No.2 High School leading.

County No.1 High School exploded into action during the second half, bombarding their opponent’s goal relentlessly. Fueled by sheer youthful fervor and lacking professional discipline, their desperate need to equalize saw even defensive lines committing forward.

Fortunately, Li Zhichao anchored the midfield. True to form, he tackled with ferocious intensity – fearless, powerful, intercepting crucial passes. His aggression halted several quick counterattacks.

But soccer-playing teenage boys? Few lack some temper.

Young blood runs hot.

Inevitably, conflict ignited.

Used to dominating opponents throughout the competition, Li Zhichao brushed off shouted protests. Words flew; punches followed.

Thankfully, the referee and supervising phys-ed teachers swiftly intervened, preventing a mass brawl.

Li Zhichao and the opposing player both received red cards.

Fuming, Li Zhichao rallied his troops the moment he left the field. Red-faced and furious, he vowed to teach the County No.2 High School players a lesson after the game: “Those bastards dare act like that? Today, they’ll leave No.1 High School Campus carried out!” Naturally sociable and bolstered by Su Chunfeng’s formidable reputation, Li Zhichao commanded an extensive network of friends across the school. Dozens heeded his call, ready to ambush the “grandsons” from County No.2 High School’s team.

As Li Zhichao’s mob stormed towards the campus gates to set up an intercept outside, Su Chunfeng arrived instantly and blocked their path.

He fixed Li Zhichao with a stern gaze. “Go back.”

“Why?” Li Zhichao flailed his hand angrily. “Chunfeng, don’t get involved this time. I’ll handle the fallout. Damn them, I need this revenge.”

“Get. Back…” Su Chunfeng’s voice gained biting authority.

“Wh-what…?” Li Zhichao seldom saw this level of severity from Su Chunfeng. Fear mixed with bewilderment as he asked, “Do you know someone on that team?”

“I don’t.” Su Chunfeng stated coldly. “This is soccer. Friction happens. You acted recklessly, committed a blatant foul, and you feel wronged? Be reasonable! Besides, County officials and school heads are watching today. Create this kind of mayhem? They’ll expel you! Fine. You might not care. But what about them?” Su Chunfeng jabbed a finger towards the crowd trailing Li Zhichao. “You claim responsibility. But can you shoulder it?”

Li Zhichao stood frozen.

Everyone – GO BACK! Su Chunfeng roared at them, his fury palpable, waving them off.

Just then, an earth-shaking roar erupted from the field nearby.

County No.1 High School had scored!

That goal instantly lifted the spirits of Li Zhichao and his would-be warriors. Combined with Su Chunfeng’s relentless prodding, they stampeded eagerly back to the match – the game was vital!

The final whistle blew. County No.1 High School, netting two second-half goals, secured the win.

Celebratory chaos engulfed the campus.

And who remembered that minor friction during the game?

At least, Li Zhichao had entirely forgotten his anger.