In the middle of the city stood a magnificent square, surrounded by fluttering colorful flags that danced like the sleeves of celestial maidens, scattering a five-colored radiance. In the center of the square rose a massive Celestial Stage, supported by eight large pillars, with immortal inscriptions and auspicious clouds on the platform emitting a faint shimmer.
Surrounding the Celestial Stage were spectator stands arranged in an Eight Trigrams formation. They were not entirely enclosed, leaving a gate open to allow the crowd to enter.
From the stands, the commoners waved fresh flowers and immortal flags, watching the folk performances held to build up the atmosphere. Their faces were flushed with excitement as they cheered with flickering gazes of anticipation.
The cultivators, on the other hand, sat calmly, though their faces also held curiosity and high hopes for this grand event.
The front of the square was mostly occupied by cultivators, and at a glance, music cultivators were the most numerous among them.
They gathered in small groups, greeting each other with humility and sharing their cultivation insights and fortuitous encounters. The scene was bustling and noisy—a rare and magnificent sight.
When Wen Li’s group walked in, they were merely a few grains of dust in a vast ocean, and no one spared them a glance.
Looking around, the square actually accommodated at least tens of thousands of cultivators.
Borrowing a famous meme expression, Wen Li thought to herself, “Wow, that’s a lot of people.”
With her left hand holding Hua Cishu and her right arm linked with Zongzheng Huangyue, she wasn’t worried about either of them getting lost.
Yan Yurong couldn’t help but exclaim, “Last time, I missed seeing such a magnificent sight due to some business. Today, I finally have the chance.”
“Fellow Daoist Yin, let’s head up to the stands. The area below is for music cultivators. We shouldn't get in their way as spectators.”
“Alright.”
The seating in the stands was open. Since the four of them hadn’t arrived particularly early or late, they could still pick out some empty spots.
Just as they sat down, people began to arrive at the VIP area, which was cordoned off in the best position.
Many looked over curiously.
Wen Li didn’t even need to ask. She calmly pulled out a bag of melon seeds, grabbed a handful, and shared them with Hua Cishu and Zongzheng Huangyue.
Yan Yurong began his narration. “Oh, look! The first to arrive is actually Jiang Nianyao. I didn't expect the Beast Taming Sect to send her. No wonder I saw her yesterday. I wonder how the Beast Taming Sect Leader could bear to let her come out? Perhaps he’s hoping to use the music cultivators of Tingyin Pavilion to heal her heart and meridians.”
Listening to the free commentary, Wen Li kindly handed him a handful of seeds.
“Oh, thank you.”
Yan Yurong paused his report to offer his thanks, then immediately returned to being a heartless commentator.
“Look, that’s Master Miaohe of the Buddhist Sect. It’s said that Master Miaohe travels the world year-round to aid the poor, uphold justice, and help evil cultivators reform. He has built vast amounts of good karma and merit. He rarely attends grand ceremonies or events, so it’s a surprise to see him today.”
“As for the young monk beside him—wearing the golden lotus cassock, holding white prayer beads, with a cinnabar mole between his brows—that must be Sami. He’s the genius of the Buddhist Sect’s younger generation who reached Foundation Establishment in just two months and managed to read and comprehend the meaning of all Buddhist scriptures by age fifteen. He can even give sermons himself now.”
Upon hearing that name, Wen Li, who was still cracking seeds, looked over from afar. Sure enough, in the VIP area was a handsome young monk with a cinnabar mole between his brows. His features were upright and clean, looking like a snow lotus from a celestial mountain untainted by dust. His eyes were filled with pure compassion. Just looking at him made it clear that he would one day be a saintly monk who would deliver all living beings from suffering.
What kind of luck was this? It was only their second day in the Southern Province, yet she had already met Jiang Nianyao, the second female lead in Xie Tinglan's main plot, and the Chosen protagonist of Yao Dai’s main plot. The key was that the two disciples involved weren't even here; she, their master, had seen them first.
Tsk. She wondered if she could snatch some opportunities like she did with Wangquan Sheng to collect some interest. After all, if they ever came to blows in the future, her little disciples would at least have some leverage.
Crack.
Wen Li cracked a seed. As she was lost in thought, her fingers absentmindedly flicked the shell. Instead of landing in the bag, it flew straight onto the shoulder of the waist-high Hua Cishu beside her.
“...” Hua Cishu thought someone else had spat on him. His eyes turned sharp and cruel as he snatched the shell. He was already planning how he would spit back at that person with poison to kill them.
Crack!
Wen Li, completely focused on watching the young monk, threw a second shell.
The shell descended from the sky.
Hua Cishu was about to explode with rage, but when he looked up, his dark, phoenix-like eyes instantly widened.
“...Master?” How could it be her?
“Yeah?”
Hearing him, Wen Li slowly lowered her head. When she saw what was on him, her expression turned into one of shock, and she hurried to brush the shell off his shoulder.
“Oh, my goodness!”
Hua Cishu thought she was going to apologize. Instead, Wen Li looked up and barked at the empty space around them with righteous indignation.
“Who was it? So immoral! How could anyone dare spit seed shells onto my disciple’s head? That’s too much! Who did it? Stand up! Don't be a coward who hides after doing something!”
The commoners and cultivators nearby, startled by her voice, looked at her with innocent and baffled expressions. Is she crazy? Within a three-meter radius, who else was eating seeds besides the four of them?
Hua Cishu pursed his lips, his gaze hurt and silent.
Wen Li cleared her throat. Using the thick skin she had developed over years of remaining calm in major situations, she continued without changing her expression.
“Hmph, if you won’t come out, so be it! You’d better hope I don't catch you!”
She looked down and patted Hua Cishu’s head. “It’s alright, little one. If I catch that person next time, I’ll definitely beat them up.”
She pulled a stick of candied haws from her storage bag. Hua Cishu, who had been about to say something, was instantly silenced by the treat stuffed into his mouth.
Forget it. He understood the fragile pride of an adult. Besides, it wasn't like Master had done it on purpose.
Chew, chew, chew...
Seeing him obediently munching on the candied haws, Wen Li breathed a sigh of relief. Beside her, Yan Yurong’s commentary hadn't ended yet; he was still rattling off descriptions of several other important figures.
After waiting for fifteen minutes, it finally began.
An elegant elderly man in white robes, exuding a celestial air, flew above the center of the Celestial Stage.
“Fellow Daoists.”
The old man spoke slowly. His voice was low, ethereal, and calm, echoing like celestial music in everyone’s ears. The clamor across the square gradually died down as everyone quieted and looked at him.
“I am Linghu Ci, the Third Elder of the Tingyin Pavilion. Today, I welcome all our guests from afar to attend the Xianle Grand Ceremony hosted by our Tingyin Pavilion.”
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