Chapter Twelve : Pebbles on the Path
Fang Mu Ge, much like a village boy visiting a grand city for the first time, was wide-eyed with wonder. Everything in the city fascinated him. He looked left and right, dazzled by the sights.
Especially when they passed by the Drunken Dream Pavilion, he could clearly smell the lingering perfume drifting from inside and catch glimpses of elaborately dressed, stunningly beautiful women through the windows.
These women, with their seductive glances and alluring postures, had all cultivated charm techniques—something most cultivators found hard to resist.
Let alone a young man full of vitality like Fang Mu Ge.
All the women did was wave flirtatiously at passing cultivators.
In an instant, Fang Mu Ge's handsome young face turned beet red. He stood frozen, as if bewitched.
"Gulp..."
He swallowed hard. His mind went blank, and his body, acting on pure instinct, began inching toward the entrance.
"Smack!"
A hand landed squarely on his forehead—Fang Ting's slap immediately snapped him out of it.
"You brat," he scolded. "You've barely stepped into the cultivation world and you're already faltering at the first sign of temptation. How do you expect to become anything if you can't control yourself?"
"When you become strong, everything you want will be within reach. Don't ruin your future over momentary indulgence!"
Fang Ting's tone was stern, like a strict parent.
"I was wrong, Uncle," Fang Mu Ge said sheepishly, bowing his head.
"How pathetic... Sure, they're seductive and graceful, but compared to immortal fairies, they're just common powder and rouge. How could I lose composure like that?"
In truth, Fang Ting hadn't done much better the first time he passed by a pleasure house—only slightly more composed.
After all, in his previous life, he'd been no stranger to certain... scholarly "masterpieces." Fang Mu Ge, by contrast, was still innocent.
There were plenty of wide-eyed, curious boys like Fang Mu Ge on the streets—mostly young cultivators from nearby towns and cities hoping to pass the Lingyue Sect's entrance trials.
The Lingyue Sect was one of the three great powers of the Great Qi Dynasty. Even becoming an outer disciple was far better than living as a wandering cultivator.
An inner disciple, sent to a place like Yunshan City, would be honored with a grand banquet by the city lord.
As for core disciples—true inheritors—most forces across the land would treat them with the highest respect.
That's why, every year during the trial season, Lingyue City overflowed with hopefuls.
Fang Ting patted Fang Mu Ge on the shoulder.
"We'd better hurry and book a room. If we're too late, there won't be anything left, and we'll have to sleep on the streets."
The two quickened their pace and arrived at a busy inn called Yuelai Pavilion. The place was bustling with people.
Fortunately, one room was still available.
Fang Mu Ge sighed with relief. "We're lucky."
"Not exactly," Fang Ting explained. "Room prices in Lingyue City have tripled recently. Most people don't want to waste spirit stones, so they'd rather camp somewhere for the night. That's the only reason there's still a room left."
Fang Mu Ge suddenly understood.
Spirit stones were hard to come by for most low-level cultivators—saving them whenever possible was essential.
Fang Ting took out spirit stones, ready to book the room.
Just then, a voice called out from the side.
"Hold on, Brother Fang. Could you let me have that room?"
Fang Ting turned to see a middle-aged man with a greasy smile standing nearby, a boy next to him.
It was Cui Damin, someone Fang Ting had a bit of history with.
Plump and round-faced, he looked more like a wealthy merchant than a cultivator.
"Oh, it's you," Fang Ting said flatly. "If it were someone else, I might've considered. But you? No chance."
He handed the spirit stones to the clerk and finalized the booking.
The two had first met at an auction years ago and clashed over a rare spiritual herb.
Later, they met again at a ruin, where Cui Damin tried to ambush Fang Ting. Fortunately, Fang Ting had been alert and avoided injury—he even sabotaged Cui Damin's trap, ruining his plans.
Their hometowns weren't far apart, so over the years, their paths crossed occasionally, leading to frequent friction.
Though not mortal enemies, both men harbored strong dislike and would be glad to see the other gone.
"You—!"
Cui Damin glared, finger trembling in anger.
He was more than ten years older than Fang Ting and had always held the upper hand—until recently. Backed by his clan's resources, he'd just broken through to mid Core Formation.
He thought that would keep him ahead, only to discover Fang Ting had caught up, reaching the same realm. His planned insults died in his throat.
His eyes fell on Fang Mu Ge, and he sneered.
"This kid yours? Also trying to enter Lingyue Sect? That place isn't for just anyone."
Fang Ting responded without even turning his head, "In that case, you should probably head home."
Cui Damin didn't get angry this time. He chuckled and pointed to the boy beside him.
"My son has excellent roots and remarkable aptitude. He'll surely be accepted by the Lingyue Sect—maybe even chosen by an elder as a disciple."
"If you're willing to give us the room and apologize, once we're in the sect, I'll have him look after your boy."
"Of course, that's if he even gets in."
Before Fang Ting could speak, Fang Mu Ge crossed his arms and said disdainfully,
"Trash like you? You think I need your 'protection'?"
His mouth was as sharp as his spirit—Cui Damin and his son both turned red with fury. Fang Ting was quite pleased.
"You little brat, you're asking for it!!" shouted Cui Shan, the son. Still young and impulsive, he nearly lunged forward before being stopped by his father.
"This is Lingyue City. No fighting allowed. Even royalty wouldn't dare."
Cui Damin added coldly, "Don't worry. Once we're in the Lingyue Sect, you'll get all the 'care' you deserve."
This time, the word "care" was laced with threat.
Cui Shan grinned wickedly at Fang Mu Ge. "Let's hope you actually get in, little junior brother."
His tone was full of smugness. After all, his cultivation was already at the late Body Tempering stage. If they both entered the sect, he figured he'd easily suppress Fang Mu Ge, who had just entered the realm.
Fang Mu Ge rolled his eyes and looked away with disdain. In his mind, this kind of guy wasn't even a stepping stone—just a pebble on the road. He wouldn't even notice stepping on it.
With the room's control jade in hand, the two went upstairs.
To their surprise, Cui Damin had somehow gotten a room next door.
When they went downstairs for dinner, they bumped into each other again—unsurprisingly, the mockery resumed.