Chapter Sixty: The Grand Alchemy Conference

Inside the Southern Hall.

The steward in blue robes regarded the two seals on the table with a peculiar look.

Though it wasn’t common for one to switch allegiances between sects, it was not unheard of either. But for someone to arrive at the Southern Hall with the tokens of two elders... He glanced up at the young female cultivator standing before him, his tone turning a shade more respectful. “Please wait a moment.”

He reached for another ledger, swiftly turning to the final page. Behind the solitary names listed under Little Green Mountain—Xiao Bao and Wang Yao—he added another: Su Bailu.

After the young woman expressed her thanks and left, he murmured to himself, “I never would have guessed that Li Qianchen is on such good terms with Elder Lin. To help Little Green Mountain take part in the Outer Sect Grand Competition, he even sent his own disciple away.”

Yet, with only a late-stage Qi Refining disciple, it was unlikely to change much.

…

Su Bailu left the Southern Hall and made her way toward Little Green Mountain, her thoughts in turmoil. The events of the day still left her dazed.

Her master had effortlessly floored Elder Qingfeng, his expression calm, yet that calm only served to highlight the confidence that resided within him. From the very moment he drew his sword, it was clear he never considered the possibility of defeat.

This, above all, left Su Bailu shocked.

She had always held great trust in Lin Ze, but it was not in his strength, rather in his temperament. He was unflappable, always composed, as if everything was perpetually within his grasp.

She recalled how, with a hint of impatience, he had grabbed her sleeve and roughly wiped away her tears. Her master seemed different now...

He was less gentle and kind than before, and in their place was a new edge, a certain dominance.

Yes, that was the word: dominance.

Though the Daoist’s face always bore that lazy, relaxed look—like a tiger delicately sniffing a rose, appearing docile and mild—one could easily overlook the sharpness of his claws.

Bearing these complicated feelings, Su Bailu returned slowly to the mountain. There, she saw the sword-wielding youth approaching with a steaming bowl of noodle soup, beaming as he spoke: “Senior Sister, you must be tired. Please have some dinner first.”

She was taken aback, but reached out to accept the bowl. “Thank you.”

There had never been such treatment on Qingfeng Mountain.

“It’s nothing. As your junior, it’s only right,” Yang Mu replied, a trace of nervousness on his face. “Eat quickly, before it gets cold.”

Seeing the anticipation in his eyes, Su Bailu couldn’t bring herself to refuse. She had been wondering how to get along with these new junior brothers, but to her surprise, these youngsters were so warm and welcoming that she felt much at ease.

Xiao Bao, gnawing on a wild fruit, looked over and saw the scene. The fruit slipped from his hand with a thud. He tried to stop her, but it was too late. He could only watch as Senior Sister picked up a strand of noodles and placed it into her mouth.

…

Su Bailu’s hand clenched suddenly, her shoulders trembling.

Yang Mu looked up at her, eyes wide with concern. “Is it not to your liking, Senior Sister?”

“It’s… it’s fine,” Su Bailu forced a smile, struggling to swallow the noodles.

The boy sighed, turning away and muttering, “Another failure.”

Master always preferred the food Wang Yao made. He couldn’t fall too far behind. Yet he had no talent for cooking, and even Senior Brother Xiao refused to taste his dishes anymore. With no other recourse, he had sought help from the new senior sister.

“Brother Mu, next time, could you taste it yourself before serving it?” Xiao Bao came running over, carrying a cup of tea.

“Are you kidding? I’m not stupid—why would I eat that stuff myself?” Yang Mu retorted with disdain, disappearing back into the kitchen. He was determined to create a dish that would win Master’s praise.

Su Bailu rinsed her mouth with the tea, giving Xiao Bao a grateful smile.

By the old well, Lin Ze casually tossed over two pieces of fruit. “The cook isn’t back yet. Eat these for now.”

“In fact… my cooking isn’t bad either,” Su Bailu said nervously, looking up to see several pairs of eyes fixed on her, as if she were a savior.

Xiao Bao, Yang Mu, and even the two foxes—one large, one small—were staring at her. Even her master’s gaze was brimming with approval.

In a daze, Su Bailu found herself walking into the kitchen, knife in hand. She suddenly realized that blending into Little Green Mountain might not be as difficult as she’d imagined.

A while later, she brought out several of her signature dishes.

Her two junior brothers looked at her with awe, and Lin Ze picked up his chopsticks. He tasted a bite with care, closed his eyes, and savored it for a good while.

“Not bad.”

At these words, the group descended with the frenzy of starving wolves, clearing every plate in moments.

Experiencing an atmosphere she never had before, Su Bailu was a little surprised, yet felt an inexplicable ease in her heart.

There was no need for pretense here.

Only a few simple-hearted children, a languid Daoist, and two foxes lived on this mountain.

…

…

Thus, several peaceful days passed.

Little Green Mountain soon welcomed a group of strangers.

Leading them was a corpulent, bald old man, his remaining hair snow-white. He was all smiles, round and cheerful like a laughing Buddha.

Compared to Li Qianchen, they were far more courteous.

Xiao Bao hurried to bring out chairs and tables, brewing several cups of fine tea, respectfully inviting the elders to sit.

When they revealed their purpose, Su Bailu’s hand trembled as she poured tea.

Elder Pan Yang from Cloud Residence Peak. Elder Qin Qi from Blessed Jade Mountain. Elder Yang Shulong from Wonderful Law Mountain.

… All five were masters of their respective peaks.

“Elder Lin has been in the sect for some time, yet we only come to pay our respects now. Please don’t take offense.” The rotund old man laughed, setting down several bottles of elixirs. “A small token—nothing much.”

These were no mere trinkets like those Li Qianchen had produced.

The old man’s name was He Lin, an elder of Little Pill Peak. Their entire sect specialized in alchemy; their gifts were bound to be exceptional.

Lin Ze regarded the items on the table with amusement before withdrawing his gaze. “Elder He, please speak plainly.”

To come at such a time, with so many elders descending on Little Green Mountain, it was obvious they had their own objectives.

“Then I shall get to the point,” He Lin replied, his belly shaking with laughter. There’s a saying: you never strike a smiling face. Indeed, not once had his expression changed since arriving.

“We’ve come to invite Elder Lin to participate in our Little Pill Peak Alchemy Symposium.”

He succinctly stated their purpose.

Lin Ze nodded in understanding.

These peaks were among the most obscure, rarely included in the major sect activities, so they held their own amusements. The Alchemy Symposium, organized by Little Pill Peak, offered rewards and invited the other peaks to discuss the art of alchemy.

Of course, none of the other peaks, whose disciples had not grown up with cauldrons in hand, could hope to compete. It was all in good fun; no one took it too seriously.

Mostly, it was a way for them to band together and support one another.

The elders sipped their tea quietly, waiting for Lin Ze’s reply, all the while casting curious glances around.

He Lin set down his teacup, signaling the others to restrain themselves.

Ordinarily, inviting someone to the Alchemy Symposium would only require sending a few disciples. There was no need for so many elders to come in person.

Their timing made it clear—they had other motives as well.