Free Web NovelChapter 314: Chapter 132: Final Belonging, a Bet
Qin Gang sat in the Grandmaster’s Chair, his brow slightly furrowed. The conflict in his heart had yet to fade.
After a moment of contemplation, he looked toward the door and called out, "Disciple on duty, come in."
Shortly after he spoke, a disciple in a fitted blue uniform strode into the hall and bowed. "I am here."
"Go at once to Yunxi Peak and Lingxi Peak. Invite their respective Peak Masters to see me. Tell them I have an urgent matter to discuss and that they must find the time to come," Qin Gang said gravely.
The Peak Master of Yunxi Peak had been very close to Sun Yong’s late wife.
Furthermore, the Lingxi Peak Master was a close friend of the Yunxi Peak Master. They were the only two female Peak Masters among the Seven Profound True Veins.
Moreover, as far as Qin Gang knew, Lingxi Peak had recruited very few disciples this year, so there should still be plenty of openings.
He planned to discuss the matter with these two Peak Masters, hoping to find a more suitable solution.
"As you command." The disciple bowed respectfully, then turned and departed in a hurry.
...
Meanwhile.
In the Guest Reception Courtyard on the outskirts of Fushan Island, the winter sun was exceptionally gentle, casting a dappled pattern of light and shadow as it shone through the bare branches.
A cold wind slipped quietly through the cracks in the courtyard gate, carrying a crisp chill that only seemed to deepen the courtyard’s tranquility.
Dressed in a set of plain, fitted clothes, Yang Jing was practicing the Mountain-Shattering Fist in an open area of the courtyard.
He stood with his feet planted firmly on the stone tiles. With a twist of his waist, his right fist shot out, wrapped in a sharp gust of wind. The punch whistled, letting out a dull roar as it tore through the air, carrying a palpable sense of weight.
He performed each and every move with extreme focus; every punch and retraction was steady and powerful.
Sweat trickled down from his temples, soaking the hair at his forehead. It ran down his cheeks and dripped onto the stone tiles, blooming into small, dark spots, yet his movements remained utterly unaffected.
His breathing was deep and focused with every punch, and each move showcased his solid foundation. A faint warmth began to radiate from his body, driving away the winter chill.
On the stone steps before her room, Sun Ningxiang sat with her legs to one side, wrapped in a thick, light-pink cloak. Her jet-black hair was piled loosely atop her head, with a few stray wisps falling beside her cheeks.
She held a yellowed medical text in her hands, its pages slightly parted, but her gaze wasn’t on the words. Instead, it rested gently on Yang Jing as he practiced in the courtyard.
Her right elbow rested on her knee, one hand cupping her cheek. Her gaze was clear and soft, filled with a focus so subtle it was almost imperceptible. She didn’t even notice the cold wind rustling the pages of her book. Her quiet stillness stood in stark contrast to the lively whistling of his fists in the courtyard.
After some time, Yang Jing finished his set, drawing his fist back to stand still. He let out a long, slow breath, his chest rising and falling gently. Some of the heat radiating from him dissipated, and his breath condensed into a faint white mist before vanishing in the cold air.
He raised a sleeve to wipe the sweat from his brow and turned to head back to his room to catch his breath. As he did, his gaze swept past her doorway and met Sun Ningxiang’s eyes.
Seeing his Senior Sister staring at him, a hint of amusement flickered in Yang Jing’s eyes. The corners of his mouth lifted as he gave her a small smile, his features relaxing into the bright, cheerful expression of a young man.
Caught off guard, Sun Ningxiang’s heart skipped a beat. A blush instantly flooded her cheeks, spreading from the tips of her ears down to her neck. It was a faint, crimson color, as if she had been dusted with a light layer of rouge.
Yang Jing took in her reaction, and the amusement in his eyes deepened.
The warm winter sun fell on her flushed cheeks, making her features seem all the more delicate and soft. Her sudden shyness was surprisingly adorable.
’Senior Sister looks so pretty and cute when she blushes like that,’ he thought to himself. ’I never noticed before. I didn’t realize she had such a charming side to her.’
Yang Jing looked away and walked into his room.
The room’s furnishings were simple. An earthenware pitcher sat on the table. He picked it up, poured himself a cup of warm water, and downed it in one go. The warm liquid slid down his throat, instantly dispelling the heat from his practice and making him feel much more comfortable.
He had just set the cup down when he heard the faint sound of footsteps outside, followed by a soft knock on the door. It wasn’t loud, but it was clearly audible.
Yang Jing called out, "Come in."
The wooden door opened to reveal a servant disciple in simple grey work clothes. He carried a heavy food container, which was wrapped in a thin layer of cotton and gave off a faint warmth.
He bowed, his tone respectful. "Sir, it’s time for your meal. This is the food prepared by the sect."
Yang Jing took a couple of steps forward and thanked him with a smile. "Thank you for this."
As he spoke, he reached out and took the container. It was warm to the touch, and he could clearly feel the heat from the food inside.
The servant disciple politely shook his head and, without another word, bowed and backed out of the room, gently pulling the door shut behind him.
Yang Jing turned, walked to the table in his room, and set down the food container.
He lifted the lid of the container. A plume of steam billowed out, filling the air with the fragrant aroma of food.
Yang Jing turned his head toward the door and called out, "Senior Sister, time to eat!"
A moment later, Sun Ningxiang pushed the door open and came in, her complexion back to normal.
They sat down across from each other. Yang Jing took the dishes out of the container one by one, filling the table.
There were two plates of neatly sliced Exotic Beast Meat. The flesh was firm and red, glistening with a light sheen of oil, and its aroma was rich and savory.
There were also two plates of seasonal vegetables. Despite the deep winter, they were a fresh, tender green, looking so crisp and dewy that they were instantly appetizing.
This Exotic Beast Meat was not of the highest grade—its texture wasn’t particularly fine—but it was still genuinely formed from Exotic Beast Essence Blood. It contained faint vital energy, something an ordinary Martial Artist would rarely get a chance to eat.
