My Years as a Menace in the Sect

Wei Ping'an's mud-covered eyelids twitched, slowly opening a tiny crack.

Wei Ping'an stared at the tangled black vines above his head for a long time. His vision slowly cleared, but his mind still felt heavy as lead. Fragments of the scene before he fell off the cliff flooded back: Qi Mang's broken sword, shrouded in gray mist, slashing down; the black light emanating from the Xuanwen pot flickering three times; the pot's edge burning hot like a red-hot iron as it slammed into his back, piercing into the bones.

Then the world spun around me, the wind howled in my ears, and finally I was slammed into a soft pile of decaying leaves, losing consciousness completely.

He tried to lift his right hand. His arm parted the damp air, but the expected tearing pain didn't come. Wei Ping'an paused, then propped himself up from the thick layer of decaying leaves beneath him, the first thing he did was touch his right shoulder.

The place where Qi Mang's sword energy had swept had a large hole torn in the cloth robe, revealing smooth, flat skin without even a faint white mark.

He pulled open his collar again to look inside. The large bruises on his chest and abdomen, caused by the force of the palm strike, had completely disappeared. His fingertips felt warm and firm to the touch, and even the soreness in his bones was gone. Even the hidden injuries he had accumulated from testing the medicine earlier seemed to have been soaked in warm water, smoothing out completely.

With a buzzing in his mind, Wei Ping'an froze. He had heard the elders in the sect's servants' quarters talk about how high the Broken Soul Cliff was. It was a hundred feet deep, and the bottom was filled with miasma and poisonous insects. Let alone a Qi Refining Stage 3 cultivator, even a Foundation Establishment cultivator would be half-dead if they fell down.

He was struck down by Qi Mang's palm, clearly falling towards the bottom of the cliff. Even if the Xuanwen Pot had absorbed the force, he should have been crippled and bedridden for half a year. How could he be completely unharmed? The strange tales told by the village elders suddenly came to mind: when a person dies, they become a soul, without injuries or pain, floating around as if walking on cotton.

The moment the thought crossed Wei Ping'an's mind, the hairs on his body stood on end. His hands and feet turned icy cold, and a chill ran up his spine, rushing straight to the top of his head. He trembled and pinched his thigh hard, his fingertips sinking into the soft flesh. The pain was faint, as if through a thick cloth. He pinched it again, but still felt nothing.

"It's all over, all over, all over..." His face turned pale, his lips trembled, and he almost cried. "I've been hiding for so many years, being careful and cautious at every turn. I took the blame for Steward Sun, I took Qi Mang's knife, and in the end, I've fallen into this wretched ravine?"

He slumped down in the pile of decaying leaves, his mind a jumbled mess, countless thoughts swirling within him. The half-box of Wenqi Powder in the drying room of the medicine testing hall hadn't sold out yet, and Zhang Erpang was waiting for him to return and expand sales; the promised 50/50 split hadn't been honored.

He had been pestering and cajoling for half a month to get his hands on the half-bottle of century-old ginseng dew that Old Man Zheng had hidden away, but to no avail. And then there was Shen Qingyao; he'd suffered a loss last time with the 40/60 split, and was hoping that this time, having performed a service, he could negotiate a 30/70 price. Not to mention the mysterious patterned pot his father left behind; he hadn't even grasped a tenth of its intricacies before becoming a lost soul.

"If only I hadn't turned back and tried to be brave," Wei Ping'an sighed, head hanging low. "I should have run back to the sect to report first. Now look what's happened, I've lost my life, and there's not even anyone to burn paper money for me. That fat Zhang Erpang, he'll probably cry for a couple of days and then forget about me, and go sell medicine powder with someone else."

As he was squatting on the ground, wallowing in self-pity, a soft cough suddenly came from behind him.

"cough."

The voice was soft, hoarse, and aged, with a deep, medicinal quality that made it exceptionally clear in the deathly silence of the valley, as if it were ringing right next to his ear. Wei Ping'an froze, his scalp tingling instantly, nearly jumping out of his skin in fright. He lunged forward and rolled on the ground, frantically unfastening the mystical pot from his back, clattering it across his face as he held it horizontally in front of the sound, its rim pointing in the direction it came from. His voice trembled as he cried out, "Who?! Don't come any closer! I... this pot of mine is incredibly fierce, it's for beating up wandering ghosts!"

The white mist in front of him slowly dissipated, as if an invisible hand had parted the cotton wool. Two zhang away from him stood an old man in a black robe. The old man was thin, but his back was very straight. His beard and hair were sparse and gray, and the wrinkles on his face were so deep that they looked like they had been carved by a knife, each line bearing the marks of time.

The hem of the dark robe was embroidered with fine, dark patterns, subtly echoing the tadpole patterns on the rim of the dark-patterned pot, gleaming with a very faint black sheen. The old man was surrounded by a rich medicinal fragrance, not the bitter smell of ordinary herbs, but the deep, mellow fragrance of a elixir that could travel for miles when it was completed, a single whiff of which made one feel their meridians relax.

He stood on decaying leaves, yet not a single leaf bent under the weight of his shoes. He was like a lingering, translucent shadow, exuding an indescribable sense of antiquity and loneliness.

When Wei Ping'an saw the other person's appearance clearly, his heart clenched, and all sorts of rural legends about mountain spirits and ghosts taking lives flashed through his mind. But then he thought, he's already dead, we're all ghosts, who's afraid of who? His courage immediately grew a bit, he moved the pot behind him, patted the dirt off his Taoist robe, stood up, raised his chin, and circled the old man in black robes, making clicking noises as he did so.

"So it turns out you're a fellow traveler, a senior ghost." Wei Ping'an cleared his throat. "You must be the earth spirit at the bottom of this Broken Soul Cliff, right? Don't be nervous, I just fell to my death here. I'll rest for a bit and then leave. I won't take your territory. I just don't know if I can still cultivate after becoming a ghost, or earn spirit stones... If I can brew medicine and sell powder after becoming a ghost, then it doesn't seem like such a bad deal."

He sighed as he spoke, completely unaware that the old man in black robes had slightly furrowed his brows and a faint hint of surprise flashed in his cloudy eyes.

"You really want to die that badly?" A hoarse voice slowly rang out, carrying the weight of years, drifting lightly into Wei Ping'an's ears, yet resonating like a bell, making his eardrums tingle.

Wei Ping'an was taken aback. Something was wrong. How could a ghost speak in exactly the same way as a living person? He hadn't smelled any stench when he was this close. Instead, there was a faint medicinal fragrance, even better than the century-old ginseng dew that Old Man Zheng had kept.

Looking again at the old man's semi-transparent figure, he didn't seem like an ordinary mountain spirit, but rather like the remnant soul of a cultivator mentioned in sect records. A bold idea popped into his head, his heart pounded, and without saying a word, he bit down hard on the tip of his tongue.

"hiss!"

A sharp, excruciating pain exploded within him, bringing tears to his eyes and contorting his face in agony. He tasted the strong metallic flavor of blood on his tongue, swallowing it down his throat, a burning sensation spreading through him. It hurt, it was warm, he could taste blood—he wasn't dead!

"I'm not dead?!" Wei Ping'an's eyes lit up instantly, overjoyed, he almost jumped up. "Haha! I knew I was tough! That old bastard Qi Mang wanted to kill me? No way! Even the King of Hell wouldn't dare take me!"

He was so excited that he waved his arms and reached out to pat the old man's arm. But his hand slipped right through the old man's arm, a chilling coldness creeping up his fingertips and making him shiver. His laughter stopped abruptly. He stiffly withdrew his hand, looked up at the expressionless old man in black robes, his pupils widening.

"A ghost!"

A piercing scream echoed through the dark valley, startling several black owls from the crevices in the rocks. Wei Ping'an turned and ran, tumbling and scrambling, as if being chased by a pack of Crimson Flame Wolves. But he hadn't gone far when his forehead struck an invisible barrier, bouncing him back with a thud and landing hard on his backside. He scrambled to his feet, clutching his backside, his back pressed tightly against the icy mist, his hand gripping the rim of the Xuanwen Pot tightly, his whole body trembling like a leaf.

"Please spare my life, sir!" His face turned pale. "I'm just an insignificant handyman in the medicine testing hall. I'm not much meat on my bones, and I don't have any valuable treasures. The only thing I have is a black pot, a keepsake left to me by my father. If you have any unfulfilled wishes, lack of incense or paper money, or any enemies you haven't avenged, just tell me, and I'll definitely help you fulfill them after I get out! Please don't take my life..."

He was afraid of death, ever since he was a child. During the famine in Daliu Village, he ate tree bark until his face turned green, but he gritted his teeth and refused to die. He finally managed to cultivate to the third level of Qi Refining and had just barely managed to get a glimmer of hope for the future. He had just escaped with his life from Qi Mang's blade. If he were to be taken by the old ghost at the bottom of the cliff, it would be too unjust.

The old man in black robes looked at him with a strange expression as he saw him so terrified.

Having guarded the bottom of this Broken Soul Cliff for hundreds of years, I have seen at least eight hundred, if not a thousand, cultivators. Some fell down and were on the verge of death, yet still shouted for revenge. Others knew they were going to die and sat cross-legged waiting for their demise. But I have never seen anyone like this. One second they were cheering for their survival, and the next second they were crying and begging for mercy.

That day, when I sensed the aura of the Xuanwen Cauldron falling off the cliff, I didn't want to meddle. However, the Xuanwen Black Gold Cauldron was something I had always carried with me. It had been lost for thousands of years, and I couldn't just watch it be buried at the bottom of the cliff with a half-grown child. That's why I took action to activate the spiritual veins in the valley to repair his physical body.

Looking at it now, although the child is a bit slick, he is not a bad person. He single-handedly lured the enemy and sacrificed himself to cover the retreat, which is quite rare among low-level cultivators.

The old man was silent for a moment, then shook his head slightly and did not approach again: "The Xuanwen cauldron on your chest is actually called the Xuanwen Black Gold Cauldron, an ancient treasure of alchemy. You only use it as an iron pot to shield yourself from knives and to purify medicine; it is simply a waste of its precious resources."

Wei Ping'an, who was huddled by the misty barrier plotting his escape, suddenly stopped upon hearing this and looked up at the old man. An ancient treasure of alchemy? He had always thought it was just a sturdy black pot his father had forged, perhaps made of special material that could block blades and warm medicine. How could it be an ancient treasure?

"How...how did you know?" Wei Ping'an hugged the pot to his chest warily. "This was left to me by my father. I've carried it with me since I was a child, and I've never told anyone outsiders what it's used for."

"Ordinary blacksmiths cannot forge the Mystic Pattern Black Gold Cauldron," the old man chuckled. "This cauldron accompanied me on my campaigns across the north and south, where it was used to refine elixirs and temper divine weapons. Later, I was robbed, and the cauldron shattered, its fragments scattered in all directions. This pot of yours must have been forged from one of the main fragments, but its spirit was sealed, which is why it appears as ordinary iron." He slightly raised his hand, and a beam of black light floated from his fingertip and landed on the Mystic Pattern Pot. The tadpole-like patterns on the rim of the pot instantly lit up, and the black-gold light flowed along the patterns, originating from the same source as the patterns on the old man's robe.

Wei Ping'an looked down at the scorching black pot in his arms, his shock growing ever stronger. This pot usually looked like ordinary iron, but whenever it encountered danger or touched his blood, it would emit a black light and release warmth to heal wounds. He used to think it was just an evil thing, but now he knew it was a fragment of an ancient alchemy cauldron. Then... how did his father obtain this thing?

"I am the Elder of Xuan Cliff, an ancient cultivator of alchemy." The old man spoke calmly. "Back then, my Dao foundation was destroyed, leaving only a wisp of my soul residing in the spiritual veins at the bottom of this Broken Soul Cliff, guarding the inheritance and waiting for a destined person. A few days ago, I sensed the aura of the Xuanwen Cauldron falling off the cliff, so I activated the spiritual veins to repair your physical body and meridians. In a way, you and I have some master-disciple relationship."

Wei Ping'an was completely stunned. He quickly suppressed his fear and knelt down before Elder Xuan Ya with a thud, kowtowing three times. "Junior Wei Ping'an thanks Senior for saving my life! If Senior has any orders, I will do my utmost without hesitation! From now on, I will take care of Senior's offerings and will definitely offer three kinds of sacrificial animals and five kinds of fruits during festivals!"

The old man Xuanya nodded slightly, observing Wei Ping'an's impeccable manners and somewhat shrewd, worldly-wise demeanor. "Your affinity with the Xuanwen Cauldron means you have a connection with my lineage. Today, I will impart two techniques to you and bestow upon you a pill, so that this encounter will not have been in vain." Two streams of light flew out from his sleeve, hovering in front of Wei Ping'an. One was a lustrous, ancient pill with three spiraling patterns, emitting a rich and lingering fragrance; the other was a cyan jade slip with fine Xuanwen patterns engraved on its edges.

"The first chapter is the Profound Pattern Body Tempering Technique," the old man said slowly. "The Qi Induction Technique you practice only trains spiritual energy and not the physical body, so your foundation is weak. This Body Tempering Technique, combined with the warming and nourishing effect of the cauldron, can strengthen muscles and bones and solidify the skin and flesh, giving you more resources to protect yourself in future battles."

"The second chapter is the chapter on guiding Qi and consolidating meridians. The Qi-guiding technique you have learned is incomplete, and there are twelve obstructions in the flow of Qi through your meridians. This chapter can widen your meridians and stabilize your Qi Sea, allowing you to have a smooth journey in your Qi-guiding cultivation and laying the most solid foundation for your future foundation building."

"As for this Three-Pattern Meridian Tempering and Nourishing Pill, it can cleanse the meridians of impurities and solidify the foundation of body tempering. It is quite suitable to be used in conjunction with the initial revision of the two methods."

As his words fell, the figure of the old man Xuan Ya gradually faded, retreating into the depths of the white mist: "I have set up a restriction in this dark valley. When you break through to the fifth level of Qi Induction and reach the beginner level of Body Tempering Technique, the restriction will be lifted, and you will be able to leave this valley. Do not try to take shortcuts; if your foundation is not solid, no matter how fast you go, it will be a castle in the air. The secret of the Xuanwen Cauldron must not be revealed to outsiders."

"This junior will remember!" Wei Ping'an said loudly. "I wonder if we will meet again in the future, senior?"

"Once you have established your foundation, you may come to the depths of the valley to find me." The old man's figure was almost invisible, only his ancient and distant voice drifted on the wind, "The day the Mysterious Pattern Cauldron is reunited will be the day we meet again."

As the last word was uttered, the surrounding mist barrier trembled slightly, and the restriction closed completely.

Wei Ping'an knelt on the ground for a long time without getting up. These things had hit him like a dream, making him a little dizzy. He was originally just a handyman in the medicine testing hall, and his biggest dream was to earn enough spirit stones to become an outer disciple and live a stable life. He never expected that falling off a cliff would bring him such a great opportunity. "Father," he muttered softly, "the pot you left me has a really big background."

After a while, he stood up and took the floating pill and jade slip. He placed the jade slip between his eyebrows, and the cultivation technique and incantations flooded his mind, instantly making the twelve stagnant meridians clear and smooth. The pill was round and radiant with jade light, and three lifelike patterns flowed slowly across its surface.

He first found a dry stone platform and took down the Xuanwen pot. He then infused it with spiritual energy according to the method of nurturing. The tadpole-shaped patterns on the edge of the pot slowly turned dark and emitted a warm and moist aura that flowed into his meridians along his fingertips, making it several times stronger than before.

He slung the pot back over his shoulder, sat cross-legged, and swallowed the pill. It melted instantly in his mouth, a scalding heat rushing to his dantian. The gentle yet powerful medicinal force spread rapidly, coursing through his meridians to his limbs and bones. Wei Ping'an circulated the Qi-Guiding and Meridian-Strengthening Technique to guide the medicinal force to cleanse the impurities in his meridians. One by one, the tiny meridians opened, and the dark brown impurities were expelled through his pores. His dantian and sea of ​​qi grew increasingly expansive, the spiritual energy transforming from a trickle into a babbling brook, and his foundation at the third level of Qi Guiding rapidly solidified.

After completing the cultivation technique, he immediately switched to the Mystic Pattern Body Tempering Technique. The medicinal power penetrated into his skin, flesh, tendons, and bones, and every inch of his body was being repeatedly tempered and strengthened. In the dark valley where there was no sunlight, he was completely immersed in cultivation. When he was hungry, he ate dry biscuits; when he was thirsty, he drank mountain spring water; and when he was extremely tired, he would lean against the Mystic Pattern Pot to recuperate for a while.

Half a month later, his dantian trembled slightly, and he steadily stepped into the fourth level of Qi Induction. He didn't rush to advance, but calmed down and honed his foundation again and again. Ten days later, the barrier of the fifth level of Qi Induction was broken through with a bang, and a vast amount of spiritual energy filled his dantian, making his meridians smooth and clear. Three more days passed, and he completed the initial stage of the Profound Pattern Body Tempering Technique.

He walked to the rock wall and punched it, sending pebbles flying and leaving a fist-shaped mark several inches deep on the hard rock. He picked up a piece of stone and slashed it at his arm; after the crisp sound of metal clashing, his skin was smooth and without even a white mark. He couldn't help but grin, then concealed his aura, looking no different from an ordinary outer disciple.

The surrounding mist barrier crackled and dissipated inch by inch. The restriction was lifted.

Wei Ping'an packed his things, determined his direction, and headed out of the valley. He occasionally encountered low-level ferocious beasts along the way, knocking them unconscious with a single punch. After walking for about ten days, the outline of the Cangxia Sect's mountain gate finally appeared ahead. The three familiar peaks stood tall amidst the clouds and mist, and a sense of relief washed over him. After being away from home for more than two months, he had finally returned alive.

He was thinking about going back to report to Old Man Zheng that he was safe, see if Zhang Erpang had stopped his business, and settle accounts with Shen Qingyao when two outer disciples came walking on the mountain path ahead, whispering among themselves as they walked.

"...Regarding the Qi family incident in Luoxia Valley, the sect directly mobilized two thousand inner disciples, with the Enforcement Elder personally leading the team. The entire clan was wiped out overnight. It's a pity about Senior Brother Wei Ping'an. In order to save Senior Sister Su Yin, he single-handedly lured away Qi Mang, who was at the half-step Foundation Establishment stage, and finally fell off a cliff and died in battle at Broken Soul Cliff."

"The sect has posthumously conferred upon him the title of Honored Disciple! A cenotaph stands halfway up Xiangyun Mountain. Last month, the sect leader personally presided over the ceremony, and all the disciples of the sect attended. Senior Uncle Zheng sits in front of the monument every day, and Senior Brother Zhang Erpang brings him candied jujube cakes every day..."

The conversation between the two drifted into Wei Ping'an's ears on the breeze, and the smile on his face instantly froze, his steps halting. A Glory Disciple? A cenotaph? The ceremony was already over? And here he was, still alive and well.

He stood by the mountain path, his mind buzzing. What would he do if he went back now? The entire sect thought he was dead; they'd even erected a tombstone for him. If he suddenly reappeared, wouldn't he scare everyone to death?

Wei Ping'an scratched his head, looking at the mountain gate so close at hand, and for the first time felt that coming back alive was quite troublesome. The mountain wind blew pine needles over and onto his shoulders. In the distance, disciples entered and exited the mountain gate in twos and threes. No one knew that the glorious disciple mourned by the entire sect was standing by the mountain path, struggling with whether or not he should step through this gate.

Deep within the white mist at the bottom of Broken Soul Cliff, the remnant soul of the Mysterious Cliff Elder floated silently above the spiritual vein, his turbid gaze fixed on the direction of the sect, and he sighed softly. The Mysterious Pattern Cauldron has reappeared in the martial world; the Three Mountains of the Southern Shore are about to become quite lively.