Chapter 42: Verdant Mountains, Emerald Armor

Time seemed rushed and urgent, as if something were being constrained. I hadn’t understood it myself at first, but then I heard that the sect had recently mobilized a tremendous amount of elixirs...

The old priest finished speaking and said nothing more, closing his eyes to rest. Qin Chuan knew that the few spirit stones he’d spent to buy this information were already well worth it; he dared not ask for more. After bowing respectfully, he left and made his way toward the four registration points.

He chose the one with the smallest crowd and waited patiently, without hurry or agitation. With nothing else to do, he began to ponder the message the priest was trying to convey.

This Elixir Gathering, it seemed, was not as simple as the words displayed upon the stone screen. The claim that it was to promote the flourishing and eternal legacy of the Elixir Path—perhaps even a three-year-old child would not be fooled by such talk.

The priest had said that the sect was mobilizing a vast quantity of elixirs, most likely connected to this gathering. But this was intriguing. For an Elixir Gathering, it made sense to move many ingredients, but to mobilize so many finished elixirs—the implications were considerable.

Suppose these elixirs were meant to be distributed among the participants. Setting aside any sinister motives, was it merely to help them advance their cultivation?

Following this line of thought, Qin Chuan suddenly hit a dead end. For a moment, his head ached, feeling as though he’d almost grasped something, only for it to slip away upon closer inspection.

He looked up to check how far the queue had progressed. When his gaze lifted, he caught sight of the scene unfolding in the plaza, and most of his confusion melted away.

As the grand competition approached, instead of sword duels, the sect had chosen to hold an elixir contest—now everything became clear.

Elixir cultivators might be able to match ordinary disciples in cultivation level through sheer resources, but when it came to true combat prowess, they were at a disadvantage.

Take Qin Chuan himself; he rarely had time to visit the sect’s library to study the arts of combat. The few minor spells he had mastered were all related to alchemy, refined through endless nights of practice, especially with his mastery of the Profound Breath Dust Technique, making entry into such arts relatively easy.

But genuine combat techniques required daily, arduous training to achieve even modest results. Ordinary disciples, on missions outside the sect, might use such spells dozens of times a day.

In the ebb and flow of their respective strengths, ordinary disciples naturally surpassed elixir cultivators in true power.

The sect’s grand competition was not only for those striving to become Post-Heaven disciples; even ordinary disciples fought hard to earn a better future and rankings.

Whether Post-Heaven or not, the only difference was the stage upon which they competed. This time, even other regional sects would send their best disciples to participate.

The sect, too, would spare no effort, aiming to sharpen its sword swiftly and brilliantly, so as to gain advantage in future contests for resources and influence.

Thus, the Elixir Gathering no longer seemed abrupt or strange. The sect intended to use it as a pretext to distribute elixirs and spirit stones, enabling elixir cultivators to bolster their cultivation.

Of course, that was only one aspect. Some elixir cultivators lacked not resources but experience in battle. This way, ordinary disciples could exchange with them, allowing both sides to complement and benefit each other.

Soon enough, Qin Chuan squeezed the last drop of his mental energy and finally understood the sect’s purpose in holding the Elixir Gathering.

On the opposite side of the plaza, atop a vermilion pavilion, several elders watched Qin Chuan, nodding repeatedly.

“Elder, there he is—Qin Chuan,” said an old priest well past fifty, whose hair and brows had all fallen out, leaving only a bare head.

The so-called Elder merely nodded slightly.

“He talks too much. Who was the attendant just now speaking with Qin Chuan?” The Elder leaned on his cane, his voice airy and frail.

“Reporting, Elder—that was Jiang Qu from Moon-Reflection Peak, who has served as an attendant in our Green Mountain Sect for twenty-one years…”

“He’s too talkative…”

Qin Chuan had no idea he was being watched from afar, nor could he know that the attendant who’d spoken with him, saying a few extra words, would voluntarily resign the following day...

“If not for Master Su’s obstruction, we wouldn’t have to go through such trouble!” sighed the talkative priest.

The Elder coughed lightly, his voice even more ethereal than before. “All the effort we’ve spent, mobilizing resources throughout the sect, just for a single elixir recipe.”

“Master Su is, after all, the descendant of that man. We dare not overstep. What I fail to understand is, Qin Chuan will most likely end up as a discarded pawn—why protect him so fiercely?”

The talkative priest sensed the Elder’s discontent and, perhaps currying favor, said, “Even the Sect Master pressured Master Su, but he wouldn’t relent! Is he unwilling to part with it? If so, why take the Bone Elixir in the first place?”

“…You talk too much.”

The talkative priest also resigned as an elder the following day.

Qin Chuan was unaware that he was stepping, bit by bit, into the grand scheme laid by the elders of the Elixir Pavilion and the entire sect.

Nor could he imagine that the Fasting Elixir he’d recently sold would cause such a stir, even prompting the Sect Master to intervene, but all to no avail.

Though the sect was generously distributing wealth, most attendees would gain some benefit. Yet the Elixir Gathering remained focused on alchemy and herbs—though Qin Chuan’s cultivation was low, when it came to alchemy, he felt no fear.

Yet the scene before him was nerve-wracking: a sea of people, with no end in sight, and worse still, the crowd ahead was a mix of all sorts.

Many used tricks to slip into the queue, taking advantage of the chaos—truly despicable!

Even Qin Chuan saw plenty of this, but standing near the end of the queue, he was powerless to address those squeezing into the upper ranks.

He reckoned that by the deadline, he might not even get his turn! Even his usual composure couldn’t prevent him from cursing aloud, “Utterly shameless!”

No sooner had his words left his mouth than a commotion erupted at the rear of the crowd.

“Green Armored Guards on duty! Make way!”

A squad of seven, their presence overwhelming all ordinary disciples in the plaza.

Green Armored Guards—the sect’s most elite squad!

The leader was a young man of about twenty, his green armor distinguished by golden trim, fitting him perfectly, forming a seamless whole.

With his fair, handsome face, countless female disciples blushed and sparkled at the sight.

Even the male disciples couldn’t help but feel strange emotions. Those with some knowledge were astonished at the sight.

Qin Chuan, no fool, noticed this too. Seeing so many disciples’ expressions change, he knew this youth was no ordinary Guard.

Stories of the Green Armored Guards had been told ad nauseam on Qingyang Mountain by the registered disciples. The same tired tales, repeated nightly by the fire.

Even an outsider like Qin Chuan, hearing them in passing, had memorized them well. Tales of heroic deeds—three charges into enemy lines, taking thousands of heads, holding seven hundred against ten thousand for three days and nights...

Of course, these were stories from the founding of the sect or earlier. Perhaps the “Green” in Green Mountain Sect was inspired by these Guards.

Though their stories were widespread, everyone knew they were but echoes of old legends. The Green Armored Guards were no longer what they once were.

Still unmatched by other squads, they had nonetheless fallen from their former glory.

Qin Chuan understood that the changing looks among the crowd were not for the Guards, but for their leader.

His mind stirred; focusing his spiritual energy, his irises faded to white, revealing only the whites of his eyes—the White Eye Technique.

White Eye was another alchemical method he had learned, though lacking divine sense, he could only use this crude technique to inspect the leader for any peculiarities.

What he saw stunned him. His gaze nearly froze, and a blizzard seemed to rush at him through his line of sight!

Alarmed, he quickly severed the flow of spiritual energy, plunging his vision into darkness and breaking the connection to the icy aura, leaving him feeling more at ease.

Who was this man? Was that intentional or accidental? He saw nothing, and nearly suffered injury. This man was unfathomable!

As Qin Chuan’s eyes were momentarily blinded, the youth passed by, casting a meaningful glance at him—though Qin Chuan was unaware. Few noticed this detail, and even those who did paid it no mind.

The youth, followed by his six Guards, crossed half the plaza before stopping.

His expression was stern, and even his usually easygoing subordinates sensed his anger.

“Those who cut the line, step forward!”

No one expected the Guards to address such a trivial matter. When had they ever cared about such things?

After a brief pause of disbelief, the youth spoke again.

“I will count to three. If you do not step forward, you will bear the consequences!”

“Three, two...”

By the count of two, a number of disciples stepped out—both men and women, the female disciples’ faces even redder.

If counted carefully, nearly half those present had cut the line!

Zhang Dai and Fang Fei, both in their early twenties, were a pair of Daoist partners from a minor branch of the sect. With limited cultivation, they relied on minor schemes to earn spirit stones.

That day, as they happened to be passing through Yellow Spring Valley, they heard of the Elixir Gathering. Though they could make some Fasting Elixir, they’d never thought to participate for fear of embarrassment. But an attendant mentioned something...