Waste, Useless Person

"What a treacherous dog!"

Wei Quji's face was so dark it looked like it could drip water.

Right under his nose, that unknown enemy had used the lives of Small Forest Town as a sacrifice, then consumed all the lingering souls throughout Maple Forest City's domain that should have long since found peace, gathering them to condense the phantom of Ghost Gate Pass. And in the end, the enemy had even slipped away calmly before his very eyes.

And he, Wei Quji—a mighty Fifth-Pin expert—had rushed over with all his strength, only to not even catch a whiff of anything!

As the city lord, he had failed his duty. As a strong cultivator, he had been slapped in the face.

When had he ever suffered such humiliation?

So...

"Worthless!"

Wei Quji swung his hand back and slapped Wei Yan, sending the man flying several meters!

Of the dozens of people present, not one dared to make a sound. Even though nearly every one of them felt indignant.

Even Wei Yan himself only silently climbed back to his feet, not uttering a single word.

He certainly had plenty of reasons to defend himself, plenty of reasons to be angry. Before the mist, he had charged forward without hesitation. Facing the Nine Palaces Formation, he had been the first to break through it. Seeing Ghost Gate Pass, he had taken the risk and burned his only Red Letter the moment he could.

It could be said that from any angle, he had done the best he could at that stage, beyond reproach.

But success was success, and failure was failure. The military didn't care about all those excuses.

Wei Quji had given him the authority to organize personnel from the Dao Academy to investigate Small Forest Town, yet he had failed to prevent the incident from happening—that was dereliction of duty.

Wei Quji could have killed him on the spot.

But what meaning would that have?

Wei Quji came in a fury and left in a rage.

The young people—some carrying the wounded, some supporting each other, some bearing the dead—dispersed.

These young disciples of the Dao Academy had just endured a brutal battle with heavy casualties.

A battle that was incredibly difficult, yet ultimately proven to be utterly useless.

From start to finish, they didn't even know who their opponent was, but the opponent had already accomplished their goal and left triumphantly.

They were called—worthless.

"Damn it all... I just can't accept it."

Du Yehu lay sprawled out on his dormitory bed, like an iron tower toppled over.

He didn't have any serious injuries on him, and the foundation he had depleted had already been replenished by the Foundation-Solidifying Pill Zhao Rucheng had sent over. He just needed some time to rest and recover.

The Foundation-Solidifying Pill was certainly a precious thing, but there was nothing hard to accept about it. Du Yehu needed it, and Zhao Rucheng happened to have it, so that was that. They were the kind of people who could entrust each other with their very lives, let alone lesser things.

But the battle at Small Forest Town, to be honest, had been a blow to every Dao Academy disciple who participated. For anyone who aspired to transcendence and craved power, helplessness was probably the worst thing of all.

Maybe Zhao Rucheng was the only exception. He had already gone to the Three-Part Fragrance Pavilion to "recover from his injuries," supposedly planning to use his status as a brave survivor who had narrowly escaped death to finally win a beauty's heart.

Du Yehu wasn't the type to lie still, but right now he had no choice. He wanted to drink, but no one would indulge him. So, unusually, he was a little melancholy.

Ling He didn't speak. He sat with his eyes closed, cultivating.

As for Jiang Wang... at this moment, he was eating. Together with Jiang An'an.

Cai's Mutton Shop. A century-old establishment.

Two bowls of richly fragrant mutton soup, ten jin of neatly sliced white-cut mutton.

Jiang An'an held a flatbread in her left hand and chopsticks in her right... the chopsticks held the mutton. The word "held" was used because her grip on the chopsticks was indeed unusual—probably because no one had ever corrected her before. She wrapped her whole hand around them, clutching the chopsticks.

Having lived with Jiang Wang for a while now, she wasn't as shy and withdrawn as she used to be.

She took a bite from the left, a bite from the right. As she ate, every now and then she'd lower her head to the bowl and take a satisfying slurp of the broth. Two shallow dimples pressed into her cheeks, filled with contentment.

Cai's Mutton Shop wasn't cheap. If it were just Jiang Wang on his own, he might not have been willing to come here.

In the Small Forest Town mission, even though Wei Yan had taken the blame himself, he had still fulfilled his promise and secured twenty points of Dao Merit for each of them, along with some silver coin subsidies. For cultivators, that was the least important part. But for Jiang An'an, being able to eat something delicious—that was very important.

"Do you like it?" Jiang Wang asked with a smile.

"Mm... yeah!" Little An'an nodded vigorously.

"From now on, every month..." Jiang Wang silently calculated his savings, "No, every ten days, we can come eat here once, alright?"

Jiang An'an kept nodding.

She chatted with her brother in a desultory way—mostly answering with just nods or shakes of her head. Her little hands weren't idle, though. Even as she nodded, she grabbed another piece of mutton, carefully rolled it around in the dipping sauce, and then stuffed it all into her mouth in one big bite.

"An'an, how have your lessons been lately?" Probably when talking to kids, all adults eventually steer the conversation to this point. Jiang Wang considered himself an adult now, so he said it quite naturally. Even though he was only a seventeen-year-old youth.

Jiang An'an's chewing motion paused. Her little mouth was bulging, and she barely managed to squeeze out, "It's... it's okay."

Jiang Wang nodded with satisfaction.

He looked at his little sister, and in his heart, there was a slow, flowing, peaceful happiness. The hardships of battle, the grief of seeing fellow disciples wounded and dead, the helplessness of failing to stop what happened—all of it seemed to fade away.

Some things were certainly very painful. But right now, right in front of him, this life—how happy it was.

A sight one would want to keep forever.

Walking through the Wang Clan territory, Wang Changxiang returned greetings to clan members who hailed him, composed and serene, just as he always was. Even the most critical clansman could find no fault to speak of.

In Maple Forest City, the three great clans—Zhang, Fang, and Wang—were roughly equal in strength and resources, making it difficult to distinguish superiority. But now, with Zhang Linchuan ranking third on the Dao Merit Board, the Zhang Clan had begun to edge ahead. Wang Changxiang, ranked seventh, was not far behind.

Only the Fang Clan had fallen behind. Their previous genius had died in a trial, and their current best, Fang Pengju, had been killed. Now only Fang Heling remained, barely entering the inner sect thanks to a Vein-Opening Pill obtained at great cost. In the eyes of the discerning, the Fang Clan had already been left in the dust by the other two.

Such matters aside, Wang Changxiang had never been fond of worldly affairs. Though his wisdom was enough to see through the filth and greed behind those warm greetings, he remained as light as a passing cloud.

The path grew more secluded.

He finally stopped before a half-old courtyard, tucked away in a remote corner of the Wang Clan territory, where few lived nearby. The master of this courtyard was like a solitary bird keeping to itself.

Wang Changxiang reached out and pushed the door. The wooden gate let out a piercing creak, disturbing the quiet of the yard.

Unlike the mottled, worn exterior, the courtyard was unexpectedly neat and refined. To the left stood a grape trellis, raised high, beneath which lay a smooth, well-worn reclining chair. No one sat in it, but a fat orange cat lay sprawled there.

It did not startle at his arrival, only half-opening its drowsy eyes and casting a languid glance.

"Little Orange," Wang Changxiang greeted it.

The fat orange cat turned its head away, squinting its eyes again, utterly dismissive.

Wang Changxiang was not offended. He continued forward. To the right front sat a large water vat, lotus leaves floating on its surface. Bubbles rose now and then, suggesting fish within.

Then he stopped, because he caught the scent of cooked rice.

Almost at the same moment, Little Orange on the recliner shot up and turned its head, the motion fluid and seamless.

Before the main hall, under the eaves, a low table was set. A young man was just stepping out from behind the door, the aroma coming from the food tray he carried.

His face was neither handsome nor ugly, but it gave off an inexplicable sense of "distance." Perhaps it was because of those eyes, too plain to stir any emotion.

The young man with an aloof air crouched down and arranged the dishes from the tray onto the low table: two bowls of plump, gleaming white rice, two plates of verdant greens, and two dishes of braised pork trotters, tender and soft.

He sat down on the threshold, pulled out chopsticks, tapped the table with their ends, and said, "Eat."

Wang Changxiang did not move, because he knew those words were not for him—though he desperately wanted to walk over and share that meal.

With a whoosh, the orange cat, moving at a speed utterly at odds with its girth, darted to the low table. It first lowered its head to sniff the plate of trotters, then seemed somewhat satisfied, placed its front paws on the table, and began to eat.

Wang Changxiang opened his mouth. "Brother."

Only a few still remembered. Wang Changxiang, the pride of the Wang Clan, had an elder brother.

In truth, he was the direct-line eldest son of the Wang Clan's main branch, the most legitimate heir to the clan leadership by clan law.

But he was also the waste who had squandered a precious Vein-Opening Pill without manifesting a single Dao Vein, bringing shame upon the Wang Clan and lowering their standing below the other two surnames.

The disgrace of the Wang Clan—Wang Changji.