Chapter 77: Chapter 70: He Has Never Changed
For a time, Little Xiyue did indeed ask a lot of questions, whether they were about cultivation, arrays, or her views on certain matters.
Xu Ran offered what advice he could. For the questions he was unsure about, he was very direct, admitting he didn’t know and encouraging her to find the answers herself.
He had taken her to audit all sorts of classes when she was little, so Little Xiyue knew exactly what he was capable of. He had nothing to be embarrassed about.
However, whenever he answered a question, Little Xiyue would look at him with a beaming smile and a reverent expression, sometimes even praising him with phrases like, "As expected of Master," or "Master is so amazing!"
In the past, Xu Ran had never dared to teach Little Xiyue due to his own shortcomings, afraid he would turn her into another Shen Wuchen and hinder her cultivation.
Moreover, she had a strong-willed personality. Though she treated him with great respect on the surface, making them seem close, there was always a sense of distance.
This made their relationship feel like one between family, or between friends, but never quite like one between a master and disciple.
Xu Ran admitted he was only human. Faced with such praise from the girl he had watched grow up, he couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. For the first time, he realized just how wonderful it was to be Little Xiyue’s master.
He had just been lamenting how wonderful it would be if Little Xiyue could stay little forever and never grow up.
But now, he suddenly felt that perhaps the grown-up Little Xiyue was better.
’Well, she is very good at giving compliments, after all.’
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After experiencing the joys of being a master with Little Xiyue, Xu Ran felt time pass a little more quickly.
During this period, news finally arrived from the team the Profound Pure Sect had dispatched to the New Domain Grand Tournament a long time ago.
Now, the Grand Tournament was all anyone in the sect talked about day in and day out.
When it came to the tournament, the most discussed figures were naturally the four great prodigies: the White-clothed Fairy, Yue Qingyu; the Evergreen Sword Saint, Zhang Zhentian; the Pill-Digging Witch, Ye Qingxue; and Deceitful Blade, Chen Chang’an.
Aside from them, the person mentioned most often was Shen Wuchen.
Yue Qingyu and Zhang Zhentian needed no introduction. Whenever they entered a fight, victory was guaranteed. There were never any upsets, and they never disappointed.
Ye Qingxue had more wins than losses. As for Chen Chang’an, true to his title of Deceitful Blade, his results were strange. Win one day, lose the next—his inconsistency was a constant in itself.
And Shen Wuchen, just like Yue Qingyu and Zhang Zhentian, never disappointed either. He was guaranteed to lose every time he took the stage. He often lost without putting up much of a fight. After all, the disciples sent by the various sects to the Grand Tournament were all prodigies, their strength far exceeding that of ordinary cultivators.
Shen Wuchen was among the weakest even when compared to ordinary cultivators of the same realm, let alone the prodigies of the various sects.
So, whenever a new battle report arrived, the same scene would play out in the sect.
"Senior Sister Yue won again! Her opponent was..." followed by an intelligence report on her opponent.
"The Evergreen Sword Saint won too! His opponent was..."
"Shen Wuchen... Shen Wuchen lost again! How many times is that now? When is he ever going to win just once?"
"Who in their right mind sent Shen Wuchen? With his pathetic strength, how does he have the nerve to even participate in the Grand Tournament?"
"Exactly! This was his fifty-second match, and he hasn’t won a single time. He didn’t even last one move in over a dozen of them."
"If I were him, I’d rather take my own life than bring such shame to the sect."
"It’s infuriating that even he gets to compete."
As time went on, the disciples’ resentment toward Shen Wuchen grew, until finally, they all just became numb to it. No one complained about his losses anymore. Now, everyone just looked forward to him winning—just once.
Just once. That was all they asked. It wasn’t a high bar.
It had even become an obsession among many of the sect’s disciples. Whenever a new battle report came in, someone would shout, "Wait! Don’t read it yet! Let me pray first. Great Dao above, heavens protect us, please let Shen Wuchen win today!"
Their attitude was exceptionally sincere and pious.
Unfortunately, when it came to losing, Shen Wuchen never let anyone down. The moment he took the stage, defeat was a foregone conclusion, without a single exception.
Even the wider Cultivation Realm was stunned by his consistent performance. They had never imagined someone could be so weak as to lose every single fight they entered.
Many sects remarked with a sigh that the Profound Pure Sect not only had cultivators like Yue Qingyu and Zhang Zhentian, who were virtually invincible within their realm, but also someone like Shen Wuchen, the absolute weakest.
The more he fought, the more Shen Wuchen made a name for himself: "Shen Wuchen, the God of Guaranteed Defeat."
In the entire New Domain Grand Tournament, he was the only person who had not won a single match.
But while the sect was celebrating the news from the New Domain Grand Tournament, Little Xiyue suddenly asked Xu Ran, "Master, have you heard that the sect is withholding death benefits?"
Hearing this, Xu Ran looked at her in surprise. "Where did you hear about that?"
"When I went to the Internal Affairs Hall to collect my stipend today, I saw a large group of people gathered there. They weren’t causing trouble, just silently watching everyone else collect their pay."
"Once people learned who they were, many disciples felt uneasy taking their stipend, as if the money burned their hands. They couldn’t stand to remain in the Internal Affairs Hall."
"Many disciples are asking who those people fought and died for. If they too were to make the ultimate sacrifice one day, would the sect treat them the same way?"
Xu Ran fell silent at Little Xiyue’s words. This was precisely what made the issue so difficult to resolve. If this were an ordinary matter, the sect could have simply suppressed it with force, but not this time.
After all, these were the families of disciples who had sacrificed their lives in battle for the sect. If the sect were to suppress them with brute force, it wouldn’t be long before it began to crumble from within.
Whether in a world where might makes right or one of ordinary people, for any group of people, relying on force to suppress internal problems is always the worst possible solution. Strength is to be used against outsiders, not your own.
This was true even in normal times, to say nothing of the current situation. High-realm cultivators in the sect wouldn’t lash out at low-realm cultivators for no reason, nor did they feel entitled to dominate weaker cultivators just because of their own superior strength.
A cultivator’s temperament wasn’t so poor. True enmity was usually settled swiftly and decisively; they wouldn’t stoop to acts that would breed long-lasting resentment. Even if the resentful person’s cultivation realm was lower than their own, no one would underestimate the malice a person could hold in their heart. Even an ant can deliver a painful bite, let alone a cultivator, right?
No one could guarantee they would remain vigilant at all times, nor could they go without entering closed-door cultivation. The slightest lapse in concentration was all it would take for those low-level cultivators—the ones they usually looked down upon—to make them experience the unique malice of the downtrodden.
Regarding the death benefits, the sect had consistently shown great restraint. Facing the families of disciples who had been injured or killed for the sect, their approach had always been to placate them, explain the current difficulties, and promise to make up the payments in the future.
"But we can’t even survive now. What’s the point of talking about the future?" a disciple missing both hands said, his voice calm. There was no anger in it, just a plain statement of fact.
For a moment, the sect members sent to placate them all fell silent.
Everyone’s expression was grim. No one wanted this job. After all, none of them could guarantee that they, standing here to pacify the crowd today, wouldn’t one day be on the other side, demanding death benefits themselves.
Just as everyone was at a loss, a weak sigh echoed through the crowd. "Sigh..."
Then, a white-haired old man, so thin he was just skin and bones, with a listless air about him, slowly walked over.
"I am Qing Xuan. My fellow sect members, I have come to help you seek justice."
He looked extremely weak. The purple robe draped over his body was loose, and he seemed so fragile that a gust of wind might knock him over.
And yet, he stood ramrod straight. His voice sounded weak, but it was also firm and resonant, causing the spirits of all who heard him to lift.
Xu Ran, who was watching events unfold from a distance with Little Xiyue, froze the moment he saw Qing Xuan Master appear.
’It’s just as I suspected,’ he thought. ’Teacher Qing Xuan’s answers in the secret chamber were just a perfunctory attempt to appease me.’
’He hasn’t changed one bit.’
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