Chapter 1: A Century of Slacking, a Cheat Awakens

The afternoon Sutra Pavilion was draped in a thick, twilight haze, dust motes swirling lazily in the slanting beams of light. Shen Qinghe leaned back against an old wooden desk by the window, a book spread open over her face as she slept like the dead. It had been three years since she was cast out of the core disciples; no one disciplined her, and no one cared. The old caretaker who guarded the pavilion was too lazy to wake her, letting her sleep from the morning sun until the shadows stretched long and westward.

Lu Xiaoman clutched a bundle of osmanthus cakes, tiptoeing stealthily into the pavilion. Seeing her mistress fast asleep, she couldn’t help but reach out and nudge Shen Qinghe’s shoulder.

“Miss, wake up,” Lu Xiaoman whispered. “Liu Senior Sister is heading this way with a few people.”

Shen Qinghe peeled the page back and blinked, half-awake. “If she’s coming, let her. The Sutra Pavilion isn’t her house.”

Lu Xiaoman sounded panicked. “She made a scene two days ago, claiming she wanted to take the window seat you’re hogging.”

Shen Qinghe let out a yawn. “Seats don’t have our names carved into them.”

Just then, her palm suddenly burned. The Formation-Breaking Talisman she’d picked up from the ruins ten years ago, the one she’d been wearing as a piece of junk, suddenly cracked with a faint, dark pattern. A frigid wave of energy rushed into her meridians and flooded her sea of consciousness. Instinctively, Shen Qinghe pressed the talisman against her palm, and her vision shifted instantly. In the mundane air of the Sutra Pavilion, countless fine, flowing lines of light suddenly appeared, crisscrossing like spiderwebs, branching like rivers. Some lines were bright, others dark; the dark spots were the loopholes.

Shen Qinghe’s pupils constricted. She kept her face blank, lowered her gaze, and slipped the Formation-Breaking Talisman back into her sleeve. She looked down at the open copy of the Green Wood Art in front of her. Within three breaths, her eyes caught a few dull gray nodes on the page—points where spiritual power stagnated during circulation, the fatal flaws in the underlying logic. She hadn’t even read it carefully, yet she already saw the optimal solution.

“Oh my, isn’t this Little Sister Shen?” A sultry voice drifted in from the entrance.

Liu Ruyan, dressed in a pale yellow robe, strolled into the Sutra Pavilion accompanied by three inner-gate disciples. A warm smile played on her lips, but her gaze locked onto the window seat beside Shen Qinghe, radiating undisguised possession.

Shen Qinghe lifted her eyes lazily. “What a coincidence that Senior Sister Liu has come to visit.”

Liu Ruyan smiled. “Little Sister Shen, I asked the Pavilion Elder for this seat yesterday. Since you’re no longer a core disciple, it’s really inappropriate for you to keep occupying a premium spot.” She paused, her voice growing even softer. “Don’t blame me; it’s just the sect’s rules.”

Lu Xiaoman’s cheeks puffed up with anger. She opened her mouth to speak, but Shen Qinghe’s hand pressed down on her shoulder to stop her.

Shen Qinghe asked flatly, “How is your practice of the Soft Water Technique going today, Senior Sister?”

Liu Ruyan blinked, then smiled sweetly. “Thank you for your concern. It’s going perfectly.”

Shen Qinghe hummed, her gaze drifting to the sword at Liu Ruyan’s waist before speaking slowly. “Then that’s odd. There’s a spiritual blockage at the Ling Shu acupoint on your left shoulder, the hidden flow in the Xue Hai acupoint on your right knee is disordered, and your dantian’s qi vortex is off by three points. With those three errors, I doubt your practice is running that smoothly.”

The words hung in the air. The smile on Liu Ruyan’s face froze. One of the disciples behind her let out an unconscious “Ah!” Several other disciples who had been buried in their books looked up, their eyes wide with suspicion, turning toward Shen Qinghe.

Liu Ruyan’s eyes went cold, though her tone remained gentle. “You’re joking, Little Sister. I’ve practiced the Soft Water Technique for years. How could I make such a basic mistake?”

Shen Qinghe didn’t answer. She just pointed her chin at the open Green Wood Art. “If you don’t believe me, try a full cycle. At that Ling Shu acupoint, if you force the spiritual power through, you’ll likely cough up blood.”

Liu Ruyan’s expression finally changed. After twenty years of cultivation, she valued her face more than anything. Having a “scrap of trash” expose a flaw in her technique in public was like being stripped naked. She forced down her rage and sneered. “Sharp eyes, Little Sister. But I wonder—how does a waste who can’t even stabilize Foundation Establishment have the nerve to critique me?”

Shen Qinghe yawned. “Nerve isn’t the right word. I just have eyes.”

Liu Ruyan swept her sleeve, turning to leave, but paused. She looked back at Shen Qinghe, her voice light as sugar-coated poison. “Since you’re so knowledgeable, I’ll definitely recommend you to the Elder Council later. Maybe you can point out the mistakes of those new disciples just starting out.” With that, she led her group away, the hem of her robe trailing a faint perfume as they vanished.

The onlookers whispered among themselves. “Did she really spot Senior Sister Liu’s flaws?” “Could she just be guessing?” “But that Ling Shu acupoint... I saw Senior Sister Liu rubbing that spot when she practiced last time...”

Shen Qinghe pretended not to hear any of it. She flopped back onto the desk, closing her eyes to pretend sleep. But the Formation-Breaking Talisman in her sleeve was still warm to the touch, and the lines of light floating in the air were now crystal clear in her mind. She knew Liu Ruyan wouldn’t let this go.

Lu Xiaoman leaned in, whispering, “Miss, did you really piss her off? She’s the Top Senior Sister, and rumor has it she’s backed by Senior Brother Jiang.”

Shen Qinghe rolled over. “Backers or not, if the technique has flaws, it has flaws.”

Lu Xiaoman bit into an osmanthus cake, speaking with her mouth full. “But that offer to recommend you to guide the new disciples sounded fishy.”

Shen Qinghe didn’t reply, only giving a two-word command: “Let’s go.”

Night fell as Shen Qinghe returned to her secluded, run-down courtyard. There was only a dim, flickering lamp and an old wooden table. She sat under the light, took out the Formation-Breaking Talisman, and examined it by the candle. The cracked pattern had sealed itself, as if nothing had happened. But she knew that cold power had settled into her.

She tried focusing her gaze on the old oil lamp on the table for three breaths. The structure of the wick, the direction of the flame, even the distribution of impurities in the oil—all of it revealed several dull gray nodes in her vision. These were spots where the flame wasn’t burning efficiently. Beneath them lay a tiny, unburnt knot of cotton thread. She reached out and plucked it away. Sure enough, the flame flared three parts brighter.

Shen Qinghe withdrew her gaze, murmuring, “Interesting.”

Just as she was about to blow out the lamp and sleep, hurried footsteps sounded outside the door. Lu Xiaoman burst in, clutching a note, her face pale with panic. “Miss, it’s bad. Senior Sister Liu just went to see Elder Wu at the Enforcement Hall. She’s claiming you stole forbidden techniques in the Sutra Pavilion and intentionally tried to hurt her. Elder Wu has marked your name; you’ll be questioned in the Hall tomorrow.”

Shen Qinghe took the note, glanced at it, and raised an eyebrow. “Stole forbidden techniques? I didn’t even touch any other books today.”

Lu Xiaoman’s voice trembled. “But she brought witnesses. The boy who keeps the pavilion said he saw you muttering over the Green Wood Art with strange light flickering around you.”

Shen Qinghe was silent for a moment, then laughed. “She’s quick on the trigger.” She folded the note and tossed it into the flame, watching it turn to ash. “We’ll worry about tomorrow tomorrow. Sleep.”

Lu Xiaoman hesitated, wanting to say more, but ultimately just stomed her foot and retreated.

The lamp was extinguished, and the room plunged into darkness. Shen Qinghe lay on her elbow, staring at the pitch-black ceiling. The Formation-Breaking Talisman in her sleeve began to pulse with a faint heat again. She knew Liu Ruyan had set the stage. And all she had in hand was this talisman of unknown origin and a pair of eyes that could see through every loophole.

She closed her eyes, the corner of her mouth ticking up into a smile.