Chapter Twenty-Two: Yang Mu

Taking advantage of the moment, Yang Mu forcefully pried open his opponent’s hand, flipped over, and rushed toward Lin Ze. He turned his head and, venting his anger, laughed and cursed at the young disciple, “You think you can meddle in my affairs? Hah!” Spitting on the ground, he stood by the bamboo chair with a delighted grin, saying casually, “Let’s see what you’ve got. Show me everything.”

Lin Ze’s lips curled slightly. “When did I say I’d help you solve your doubts?”

“Huh?” Yang Mu was stunned, a flush of embarrassed annoyance appearing on his face.

Everyone knew that Elder Qingshan had only one disciple brought in from outside the sect—a mere mortal, completely incapable of handling the tasks assigned within the sect. He couldn’t even send someone to participate in the outer sect competition two months from now, so they’d resorted to the outrageous claim that disciples from all peaks could come to Qingshan to seek answers. Who would believe that? There were hundreds of peaks, each with its own unique techniques—even a Golden Core True Immortal wouldn’t dare say they understood them all. It was just a publicity stunt to attract disciples.

Now, having delivered himself to their doorstep, Lin Ze was putting on airs instead.

Yang Mu’s breath quickened; he wanted to turn and leave, but a hint of despair flashed in his eyes.

Lin Ze noticed the change in expression and finally smiled.

To teach and resolve doubts was much like healing the sick.

What makes a divine healer? Even if you tirelessly cure a hundred patients with minor injuries, it’s nothing compared to reviving a dead man with miraculous hands.

That disciple named Wang Yao was still hesitating, which meant he hadn’t reached desperation and still had choices. So Lin Ze had long set his sights on this young man named Yang.

On the surface, Yang Mu’s sharp tongue and sullen demeanor made him seem abrasive, always mocking and berating his fellow disciples. In truth, he couldn’t stand seeing others suffer and adopted this stance just to help Wang Yao find another way out.

If that were all, it wouldn’t pique Lin Ze’s interest. But when the tall cultivator provoked him earlier, Yang Mu immediately accepted the challenge, revealing something deeper.

A boy as slick as he would never be so easily goaded.

From the young disciple’s markedly different attitude toward Yang Mu compared to the other disciples, Lin Ze could easily deduce that the boy’s identity was unusual. Coupled with the despair in his eyes…

Hmm, a predicament even a second-generation immortal couldn’t solve, driven to the point of grasping at straws.

He didn’t even dare ask directly, instead feigning anger through another’s words.

Interesting.

“Say what you want. Don’t beat around the bush,” Yang Mu took a deep breath.

Lin Ze smiled, calm as ever. “A disciple should act like a disciple.”

The embarrassment and anger vanished instantly from the young man’s face. He gazed silently at the Daoist, and after a long pause, he spoke softly, “I hope you’re not just a show-off.”

With that, he decisively knelt and bowed to the ground.

“Yang Mu of Huayang Peak greets Elder Qingshan!”

Three loud kowtows, scraping his forehead raw.

He rose slowly and looked at Lin Ze. “Elder, what I wish to ask today is about the Dongyue Breathing Technique.”

He closed his eyes, clearly intending to demonstrate the technique before Lin Ze.

“Give me your hand.”

“Huh?”

Lin Ze regarded him silently.

Yang Mu felt he must look like a fool in Lin Ze’s eyes, but… what was the point of stretching out his hand?

When his wrist was gripped, the young disciple suddenly spoke coldly, “Since Elder Lin insists on teaching, I would like to listen in as well.”

Intimidated by Lin Ze’s aura, it took him a while to recover, only to see the two had reached an agreement. Remembering Steward Fang’s angry face, he knew that even if he was timid, he had to stand his ground and try to intervene.

You claim you’re going to teach? The Dongyue Breathing Technique is a foundational method of the sect. Every Dongyue disciple practices it and can explain it thoroughly. But Elder Lin is definitely not among them.

A wandering cultivator, drifting outside, only joined the sect yesterday—how could he possibly have heard of this mid-grade technique? Even if there were copies on Little Qingshan, it was impossible for him to master it in a single day.

If he couldn’t explain it, he would have to endure some harsh words.

If the elder was at fault, he needn’t fear retaliation.

Lin Ze had no time for him and instead focused on the panel before him.

[Character card added successfully]

[Decomposing]

[Yang Mu: Rare grade]

In the next instant, a deep blue card gleamed brilliantly, with a score of fifty-six—just four points shy of epic grade.

But Lin Ze was not surprised by this.

After Xiao Bao’s ninety-eight points, even if Yang Mu were epic grade, it wouldn’t stir him.

What puzzled him was how someone with such a high score could be only a mid-stage Qi Refining cultivator.

And the skills cards decomposed next made Lin Ze’s brows knit tightly.

Only seven empty skill slots remained, instantly filled with assorted items.

[Inferior skill card: Tiger Descends the Mountain Fist]

[Inferior skill card: Leaf Breaking Hand]

…

All the cards were dull and cracked like cobwebs.

These impressive-sounding names weren’t techniques at all, merely moves used by mortal martial artists.

If he didn’t know Yang Mu was from Huayang Peak, Lin Ze might suspect he was some martial arts master infiltrating the immortal sect, hiding his identity to steal immortal arts.

Yang Mu’s breath was rapid as he anxiously stared at the Daoist.

If the other really had skill, he’d surely see the truth once he demonstrated the breathing technique!

Yet the Daoist held his wrist, seemingly unwilling to let go.

Lin Ze gazed at the last skill card, lost in thought.

[Defective: Dongyue Breathing Technique]

He decided to toss the material into the simulator, letting the situation speak for itself.

[Simulation begin]

[Simulation duration: three years]

…

…

On a dark and windy night, two bamboo stalks swayed gently.

Lin Ze sat indoors, eyes fixed on the candle flame atop the table. The dim light cast the tall figure opposite him onto the wall.

He had chosen the first-person perspective.

So he could not clearly see the man’s face.

Until a rough voice sounded, “Have you practiced your breathing technique properly?”

Upon hearing this, Lin Ze opened his mouth, and the voice that emerged was Yang Mu’s, still a touch immature: “Master, my cultivation hasn’t progressed at all. Where did I go wrong?”

“Hmph, your lack of progress is due to your own laziness. I can’t help you,” the man turned around, his square face adorned with a short black beard, bushy brows and bright eyes.

The youth clenched his fists and, after a long hesitation, said, “I think there’s something wrong with the breathing technique you taught me.”

His answer was a heavy slap.

Lin Ze was inexplicably knocked to the ground—this was the downside of first-person perspective. He could sense the character’s mental state, but had to fully endure their pain.

“You dare question your master?” The square-faced Daoist’s eyes flashed coldly.

“Since you came up the mountain, I’ve spared no effort to train you. And you? All you do is disgrace me everywhere!”

“I—!” Yang Mu jumped up, only to be kicked back down.

Lin Ze felt the pain in his abdomen and dearly wished to unleash his Frost Sword Qi on the man.

Couldn’t they have a proper conversation?

The character had spoken barely three sentences and already received two beatings.

Was this a master and disciple, or sworn enemies?

Unfortunately, with the character card’s cultivation, fighting back was nearly impossible. All he could do was roll his eyes and keep listening.