The tenth day after Feng Xian'er finished her secluded cultivation.
The Bamboo Grove on Cold Moon Peak, scorched by the lightning tribulation, had sprouted fresh shoots again. Tender green leaves shimmered with flecks of light in the morning sun. Feng Xian'er sat beneath the veranda, holding a half-finished cup of tea. After hearing the message from the deacon Bai Ziyin had sent, she said nothing for a long while.
"The sect master's saying he wants Shisan to compete for the position of Saint Child?"
The deacon bowed and replied respectfully, "Yes, Martial Uncle Feng. That is precisely his intention."
"Under the sect's old rules, the position of Saint Child has stood vacant for forty-three years. With the Eight Sects of the Immortal Alliance now standing side by side, the Danyang Sect urgently needs a member of the younger generation who can shoulder its banner and restore its glory. The sect master said Martial Nephew Lin's cultivation has advanced greatly since his return. He is the most suitable candidate."
Feng Xian'er rested her teacup on her knee and slowly traced a circle around its rim with her fingertip.
"He's only been back seven days. Seven days ago, he was still gnawing on wild fruit in the mountains, and seven days later, he's supposed to compete for the position of Saint Child against those aristocratic clan disciples who've been steeped in spirit medicines since childhood? They're not even on the same starting line. The gap is no trifling thing. The sect master certainly has some rosy dreams."
"The sect master said... if Martial Nephew Lin is willing, he will personally provide cultivation techniques, spirit artifacts, and cultivation resources. He is willing to pour everything he has into training him."
Feng Xian'er fell silent for a while, then stood, her hem brushing over