Chapter Sixteen: Song Qingxing (Please Add to Your Collection)

Cultivation knows no passage of time; in the mountains, one loses sense of the years, and a year slips by in the blink of an eye.

In what felt like a mere instant, Song Changsheng had turned eighteen. He had dwelled in these Green Hills for nearly two years now. Though his cultivation remained at the eighth level of Qi Refinement, his combat prowess was now incomparable to before.

He had mastered the Art of Water and Fire Manipulation, and with his treasured gourd, he could easily gain the upper hand even against those at the peak of Qi Refinement.

Today, Song Changsheng was leaving Green Hills to return to Vast Peak, where he would participate in the family’s grand coming-of-age ceremony.

Any cultivator turning eighteen that year would attend the ceremony on this day. Several Foundation Establishment elders and esteemed clan seniors would be present.

For these newly adult cultivators, this would mark their first true trial in life—the family assessment.

According to the Song clan’s ancestral rules, a collective assessment was required upon coming of age, to test the results of their cultivation within the clan.

The content and form of the assessment were never set, but one thing was certain: it would be a real, dangerous mission, with the potential for bloodshed and, though rare, even death.

While the odds were slim, every few years an unfortunate soul would be lost.

“I wonder what the task will be this time?” Song Changsheng felt a twinge of anticipation in his heart…

The ceremony was held on the bluestone plaza before the clan’s Soul Lamp Hall. By the time Song Changsheng arrived, the place was already bustling with people; nearly all cultivators remaining on Vast Peak were present.

He had shed his usual favored azure robe for a heavier black Daoist robe. The robe’s back was adorned with the clan’s silver moon crest and dark golden patterns, the front with intricate auspicious cloud motifs, and the cuffs were lined with dark gold, lending a solemn and dignified air.

“Changsheng, cousin, you’re finally here,” greeted a tall youth, also clad in black robes, approaching with a friendly nod.

“So it’s you, Changhu, brother. I was delayed at Green Hills tending to the spirit fish, so I arrived a bit late. Have the elders arrived yet?”

Song Changsheng immediately recognized him—Song Changhu, another of the clan’s Foundation Establishment prospects, with dual gold and water spiritual roots. Though two months older than Song Changsheng, his cultivation had only just reached the sixth level of Qi Refinement.

Compared to his peers, that was impressive, but next to Song Changsheng, he was still far behind.

At the mention of tending spirit fish, a flash of envy crossed Song Changhu’s face; everyone knew such assignments were lucrative and easy.

“Having a good mother makes all the difference,” Song Changhu thought to himself.

After a few polite exchanges, the two parted ways; their acquaintance was little more than a passing familiarity.

The ceremony was scheduled to begin late, with over an hour yet to go. This was intentional—now that the family had grown so large, opportunities to gather together were rare. In truth, these grand events were family reunions, meant to strengthen bonds and foster connection.

It was, after all, a means to maintain the unity of the clan.

Song Changsheng had always been focused on cultivation, and knew few of his peers well. Fortunately, many recognized him, and there was a steady stream of people coming to exchange pleasantries, sparing him from any awkwardness.

“Uncle!”

Suddenly, a clear, bell-like voice rang beside him. Turning, Song Changsheng saw Song Xi waving at him, her delicate hand tugging along the somber-faced Song Qingxing, who stood nearby.

A smile immediately broke across Song Changsheng’s face. He walked over and greeted them, “You’ve come as well.”

Song Qingxing hugged an ancient, unadorned longsword to his chest, his expression practically declaring “strangers, keep away.”

Song Xi, on the other hand, was much more lively. She grabbed Song Changsheng’s hand and chattered, “Uncle, I can cultivate now, too!”

“Really? That’s wonderful, Xi’er. From now on, we should call you Qingxi,” Song Changsheng replied, ruffling her soft hair and feigning surprise.

In truth, he had known this for some time. Half a year ago, at the Ascension Ceremony, Song Qingxi was found to possess dual wood and water spiritual roots—the former reaching an impressive eight inches—making her the most gifted of her generation.

Now, six months later, the young girl had successfully entered the path, becoming a first-level Qi Refinement cultivator.

Song Qingxing, two years her elder, had already reached the second level of Qi Refinement. Truly, these extraordinary spiritual roots surpassed even Song Changsheng’s own beginnings.

“I heard from my little sister that you’re the strongest among the younger generation?” Song Qingxing suddenly interjected, his tone cold and terse.

Song Changsheng raised an eyebrow; the tone suggested open challenge.

He was not about to be intimidated by a junior. Meeting Song Qingxing’s gaze, he replied, “If you mean among those under eighteen, then yes—my cultivation is currently the highest.”

“I will surpass you,” Song Qingxing said flatly, as if declaring a trivial fact.

“You’ll never beat Uncle,” Song Qingxi said, wrinkling her nose in protest.

“I will surpass him,” Song Qingxing replied calmly.

“No, you won’t,” Song Qingxi insisted, hands on her hips, revealing two tiny canine teeth in a fierce display.

Back and forth they went, arguing endlessly, leaving Song Changsheng the odd man out. He lifted his gourd and took a sip of wine, his eyes drifting between the two with amused interest.

When he had arranged for Song Xianming to pair Qingxing and Qingxi together, it was only an experiment. Now, nearly two years later, the results were becoming clear.

Though Song Changsheng lived far away on Green Hills, he kept in frequent contact with the family, and had learned much about Qingxing.

The clan had no intention of revealing his existence too early, so apart from spending time with Qingxi, Song Qingxing rarely appeared before others.

The number of people aware of his true talent could be counted on one hand.

His only regular contacts were a few Foundation Establishment elders, but each had their criticisms.

Song Qingxing took coldness to the extreme, spoke with deliberate rudeness, never used names or titles—always just “you, you, you.” He was impatient, as if every extra word was a waste of breath.

It seemed to him that nothing beyond cultivation was worth his attention.

When Song Changsheng first heard these reports, he wondered if the boy had already embarked on the Path of Ruthlessness.

But now, it was clear their worries were unfounded.

Just now, not only had Song Qingxing called Qingxi “little sister,” but he also responded to every word she said—even the most trivial—with unwavering patience.

This proved that Song Changsheng’s strategy was correct. Song Qingxing still retained genuine emotion; for now, it was focused solely on Song Qingxi, but that was enough.

Isn’t a good beginning itself something to celebrate?

So long as he preserved his human feelings, he would eventually integrate into the family.

The two argued for the better part of a quarter hour, until finally, Song Qingxi was forced to concede, glaring at Song Qingxing, cheeks puffed in frustration.

Song Changsheng watched with a faint smile at the corner of his eyes. Arguing with someone as unyielding as that boy was a losing battle.

It was like bickering with a talking block of iron—no matter what you said, not a flicker of emotion crossed his face, and after a while, you’d simply lose the desire to continue.

“Qingxing, as the elder brother, you should learn to be more yielding to your little sister,” Song Changsheng said at just the right moment.

“Yielding?” Song Qingxing glanced at the still-indignant Qingxi, and for the first time, a faint ripple appeared in his eyes.

…