RHRFS 07

Chapter – 07

The Ache of Elder Snowchant

Ever since being harassed by his little senior sister, two more days had passed. During these days, Luo Qianning had not appeared within the sect at all.
It had already been the fifth day.

This was the fifth day that He Qiu, an inner disciple of the Dragon’s Chant Sect, had risen from being a clueless mortal cultivator and was painstakingly cultivating a seventh-rank superior-grade sword art. His progress bar had already reached over eighty percent.

And in that training ground,
the white-robed youth was still earnestly practicing his sword strokes, eyes closed, quietly sensing the fluctuations of spiritual power around him, savoring the chill that continuously emanated from the blade—this was sword intent, and also the fruit of cultivating the sword heart.
Sword intent, sword heart, spirit patterns…
These were all intangible things, perceivable only by He Qiu himself.
Therefore, other disciples who passed by and observed couldn’t understand what he was doing, just standing there silently with his eyes closed.

“What exactly is this little scholar doing?”
“Who knows. He’s been training here day and night for five days, though his method looks completely amateurish…”

As they spoke, one disciple nodded, a hint of admiration rising in his heart. “But you have to admit, this little brother is really diligent and persistent. I’ve never worked this hard in my own cultivation.”
“I think he wants to prove himself to the Saintess so badly he’s gone crazy.”
“That’s true, after all, it was Senior Sister Saintess herself who gave him that art… Ah, what a pity.”

Chatting idly, the disciples quietly left, none wanting to bother with this junior disciple so absorbed in his training.
A waste without spirit veins and without talent—no matter how hardworking or persistent, he wasn’t worth much attention.
In the end, the Primordial Saintess would never fancy him anyway. After all, the man didn’t even understand the most basic methods of cultivation; he was simply stubbornly training himself to death—truly an utter “newbie” through and through.

“……”

In a second-floor pavilion beside the road, a silver-haired, cyan-robed woman silently listened to the disciples’ gossip while watching the white-robed youth training seriously in the field. Starlight flickered in her beautiful eyes, and a few traces of worry seeped through her aloof expression.
Day five.
This was also the fifth day that An Lingran had been secretly observing her junior junior brother.
Today, still, she couldn’t see any hidden talent in He Qiu. His sword aura was pathetically weak; it was like a frail scholar throwing punches—soft and powerless.
An Lingran shook her head helplessly, sighing inwardly that some things were simply fated not to be—not just her junior junior brother’s talent for cultivation, but also the red thread of fate between herself and him. This engagement was destined from the start to be nothing but a farce.

At that moment, a golden-haired, antlered spirit fairy pushed the door open, set two plates of washed spirit fruits on the table, sat down, ate one, and rested her cheek on one hand as she sighed:
“That child has been training day and night, forgetting to eat and sleep, for five days now…”
“I know.”
An Lingran reined in her earlier thoughts and answered coldly.

The spirit fairy’s gaze flickered for a moment, then she shook her head, her tone regretful. “It’s just a pity that the child just joined the sect and has no idea how to cultivate. He doesn’t understand how to practice a sword art at all…”
“Ah~~ and no one is there to teach him or guide him.”
She deliberately emphasized the last sentence, her tone unusually bright.

Yet An Lingran remained icy cold.
“I know.”
“Look, how hard and desperately little junior brother is working so he can marry Senior Sister Saintess~”
“I… know.”

Finally, An Lingran’s clear and cold eyes showed a hint of wavering.
Seeing this, the spirit girl’s cherry-white lips curved up slightly, and her two bare, pink feet under the chair began to swing leisurely.
She sang-like, rhythmically lamented:

“Ah, ah~ the white-robed youth, full of passion, pouring out his youth, entering the sect, thirsting for cultivation, praying for a chance…”
“Pity, pity, the world is unfair. His senior sister, with ill intentions, misleads the young, passes on a sword art but teaches no form…”
“Let all beings judge—what is the intention of this act?”

At the end, the spirit fairy slyly cracked open one eye to glance at An Lingran, then continued humming: “Ah, ah~ vast and hidden heavens, the world is unfair, cruel are human hearts~~”

“……”
An Lingran’s jade-like fists clenched, but she said nothing.

The spirit fairy opened her mouth, wanting to continue with another verse, but this time An Lingran interrupted her.
“Yunqing, stop mocking me.”
An Lingran sighed, her expression filled with guilt and self-blame, yet without regret.
“Things have already been decided. I am indeed indebted to Junior Brother He Qiu in this matter, but I bore no ill intent. I was only forced by my circumstances…”
“Later, I will find a way to compensate him.”

With that, An Lingran turned and left.

……

Snowchant Peak,
Primordial Saint Pavilion.

Early that morning, An Daosheng had hurried over, pacing back and forth with a look of anxiety and a pounding headache.
Within this sect, Elder Snowchant An Daosheng’s name was known to all. The old daoist was highly respected in matters of cultivation, and there were rarely any troubles in the sect that could disturb his meditative path of nurturing the Dao.
But today, he was incredibly distressed.

This matter started with his foolish daughter—
Just last night, while returning to the sect, he had actually seen his newly accepted little disciple staying up late training his sword in the practice field. Seeing him sitting quietly in meditation, focused and earnest, An Daosheng couldn’t bear to disturb him.
So, early this morning, An Daosheng found an inner disciple to ask about his little disciple He Qiu—what exactly was so wonderful that it made this junior brother train so diligently?

He hadn’t asked; but once he did, he found out.
The Primordial Saintess, also the chief disciple under Snowchant’s tutelage, An Lingran, had personally given that junior brother a seventh-rank sword art a few days ago and told him to cultivate it!
This.
Just this…
Isn’t this complete nonsense?!
Oh my heavens! Lingran, that rebellious child, is going to infuriate this old man to death!

That youth named He Qiu was the illegitimate son of that great benefactor from the Immortal Realm. He was originally just an ordinary mortal cultivator who had just joined the sect, and this Saintess Senior Sister directly gave him a seventh-rank sword art to practice as an introductory technique?
Tell me, what was her intention?!
If he cultivates without making any progress in swordsmanship, becomes disheartened, believes himself a complete waste, despairs of cultivation entirely, packs his things, leaves the sect, and goes down the mountain…
If this news ever got out, wouldn’t it mean that our Dragon’s Chant Sect intentionally went out of its way to insult the child of an Immortal Venerable?
If that Immortal Venerable became angry, a hundred Dragon’s Chant Sects would be reduced to ashes in a mere moment, wouldn’t they?

Even if, putting it a thousand steps back, we told Little Junior Brother He Qiu early on that Senior Sister Lingran was just joking, that it was actually a seventh-rank sword art, not some introductory technique, just teasing him—
Even so, this would undoubtedly be a deeply disrespectful affront! Wouldn’t he feel like he was being made a fool of?
And if this matter somehow reached that Immortal Venerable’s ears, then it’s all over. The entire Snowchant lineage would likely run with blood!
That Immortal Venerable had once saved this old man’s life—he is a great benefactor to our entire Snowchant lineage.
And now?
Now, I, An Daosheng, turn around and bite the hand that fed me, repaying kindness with enmity! I lure the man’s mortal-world illegitimate son into the Dragon’s Chant Sect, deliberately let my daughter humiliate him with a false engagement, trick him with a seventh-rank art, and deceive him!
Oh, my dear mother~~~
How could I, An Daosheng, have the audacity to repay an Immortal Venerable’s kindness with enmity?

Originally, I figured I’d secretly forge a marriage contract, then find a way to have An Lingran marry the Immortal Venerable’s child as a proper wife. That way, it would count as repaying the favor, and we could also use the opportunity to build a relationship with that Immortal Venerable. Our entire Snowchant lineage might even achieve ascension directly!
And now?
Ascension?
More like ascending to the Yellow Springs.

If this foolish, ungrateful act ever reaches that Immortal Venerable’s ears, this old life of mine will die with its eyes open in regret!
Oh, my sweet mother! This old man right now, truly, is…

“FURIOUS BEYOND MEASURE!!!”

With a swoosh, An Daosheng flipped the table over.
The more he thought, the more his head ached. The old man wished he could just bash his forehead against the pavilion pillars. The chaotic spiritual energy in his meridians surged wildly. The moment he pictured his disappointing daughter’s icy, peerlessly beautiful face, An Daosheng nearly spat out a mouthful of old blood.
“It is this old man’s fault…”
“It is this father who was a fool!”

An Daosheng was consumed with regret.
Originally, he had thought that An Lingran was stubborn by nature, so he hadn’t told her that He Qiu was the illegitimate son of a certain Immortal Venerable. He didn’t want his daughter to feel like she was being used as a concubine to curry favor with an immortal sect, lest she feel humiliated and ashamed…
He had assumed that He Qiu and Lingran were both young, and that after spending enough time together, feelings would eventually develop.
It seemed he still didn’t know Lingran well enough and had underestimated his daughter’s “resourcefulness” and “decisiveness”!
Insulting him with that art… what a brilliant move.
An Lingran, you’re too brilliant!
You rebellious child, you’re pushing your father straight down the path to the Yellow Springs!

Thud! Thud! Thud!!
Banging his head against the pillars again, a string of mournful wails followed. An Daosheng felt like such an utter fool—that Immortal Venerable had mercifully saved his half-dead life years ago, and now he had gone and repaid that kindness with enmity.
Utterly…
Utterly…
“DESERVING OF DEATH! THIS OLD MAN DESERVES TO DIE TEN THOUSAND DEATHS! OH, IMMORTAL VENERABLE!”