Su Ming’s tone was calm, as if he were talking about something utterly trivial.

The steward was frozen in place.

His mouth hung slightly open, his eyes wide as saucers.

“S-Su... True Disciple Su, what did you say?” the steward stammered.

He could hardly believe his ears.

“I said, I’ll take this mission,” Su Ming repeated.

The shock on the steward’s face instantly transformed into ecstasy.

He rubbed his hands together vigorously, nearly laughing out loud.

“You... you mean it?”

Su Ming stood up.

“I come from Great Xing. I’m familiar with the local customs and people.”

“Besides, there are some old personal matters from the past that I should settle along the way.”

The steward nodded repeatedly, his face flushed with excitement.

“Excellent! Excellent! True Disciple Su is truly righteous!”

He hurried over to his desk, took out a blank jade slip.

“I’ll register it for you right now! I’ll handle all the procedures, won’t waste a single moment of your time!”

The steward infused his spiritual energy into the jade slip, quickly carving the mission information into it.

He held the jade slip in both hands and respectfully handed it to Su Ming.

“True Disciple Su, this is the Mediator’s credential. With this jade slip, you can mobilize the sect’s sleeper agents within Great Xing’s borders.”

As he handed over the jade slip, the steward seemed to remember something and added,

“Oh, right. I heard that for safety’s sake, the sect will have a Golden Core elder backing you up this time. As for which elder specifically, the Administration Hall hasn’t received definite word yet, but it should be decided within the next day or two.”

Su Ming’s hand, reaching for the jade slip, paused slightly.

A Golden Core elder backing him up?

This information came somewhat unexpectedly. He had originally assumed he would be going down the mountain alone, never expecting the sect to make such an arrangement.

But on second thought, it made sense. The war between Great Xing and Northern Barbarian involved two tributary states. If the sect only sent a Foundation Establishment True Disciple to mediate, it would indeed seem like they weren’t taking it seriously enough.

He just didn’t know which elder it would be...

Several names flashed through Su Ming’s mind, but his expression remained unchanged.

“Much obliged,” Su Ming nodded.

He turned around, pulled open the door, and walked out.

The steward followed behind him all the way, seeing Su Ming out of the Administration Hall’s main gate.

“Take care, True Disciple Su! May you win a triumphant victory!”

Sunlight spilled across the broad bluestone square in front of the Administration Hall.

Su Ming stepped out from the towering hall doors and stopped.

He didn’t immediately fly back to Gazing Star Cliff on his light escape.

The square was bustling with people. Many outer sect disciples walked past with hurried expressions. Occasionally, someone recognized the purple True Disciple robe he wore and stopped in their tracks, bowing their heads respectfully in greeting.

Su Ming acknowledged them with a slight nod and returned the courtesy. His expression was calm.

He stood still, his gaze crossing over the layered sect buildings toward Formation Peak in the distance. Formation Peak towered into the clouds, its midsection shrouded in mist.

Suddenly, a thought struck him.

Something he had buried deep in his heart for a long time.

Inside his Consciousness Sea, Lin Yu’s lazy voice sounded.

“What are you thinking about? Why aren’t you going back to pack?”

Lin Yu yawned. His soul body was now much more stable, and even his tone carried more confidence.

“You need to go through your storage pouch again—count the elixirs and talismans. This time down the mountain, we’re not going on a sightseeing trip. Every one of those three main ingredients for the Heaven-Mending Pill grows in the most godforsaken wilderness. If we don’t stock up on enough life-saving gear, I won’t feel at ease.”

Su Ming stared at the mist around Formation Peak, unmoving.

“Master,” Su Ming responded in his mind.

“Hmm?”

“Disciple suddenly remembered something.”

Su Ming took a deep breath. The crisp morning air slid down his throat into his lungs, carrying a hint of coolness.

“It’s been so long since I returned from Iron Wall Pass, and I still haven’t gone to the Listening to Waves Pavilion to formally pay respects to Elder Qingquan.”

A brief silence fell in the Consciousness Sea.

Lin Yu was taken aback for a moment.

“Oh,” Lin Yu clicked his tongue. “If you hadn’t mentioned it, even I would’ve forgotten about that. Your nominal master’s status was settled long ago. And yet here you are, you haven’t even shown your face there.”

Su Ming gave a wry smile.

He rubbed his brow, a trace of helplessness flickering in his eyes.

“There was just too much going on before.”

Su Ming began to walk, slowly descending the stone steps along the edge of the square.

“Busy with Foundation Establishment, busy dealing with the Heart-Questioning Formation. After Foundation Establishment, I had to stabilize my cultivation base. Then I had to visit my Master, meet Senior Brother Luo Feng and Senior Brother Qin Yi. Then go to the Purple Bamboo Sea to pacify Qingfeng and Mingyue...”

He counted them off one by one.

“One thing after another, my mind’s been stretched tight the whole time. I just forgot about this.”

Lin Yu chuckled softly in the Consciousness Sea.

“Human relations and social niceties are more exhausting than cultivation. So, shall we go now?”

“Yes,” Su Ming nodded.

He changed direction, turning away from the shortcut back to Gazing Star Cliff and instead stepping onto the mountain path leading to Formation Peak’s midsection.

“Since I’ve taken this mission down the mountain, who knows how long I’ll be out wandering. Paying a visit before I leave is the most basic courtesy. Elder Qingquan did, after all, have the grace to recognize my potential.”

The mountain path was quiet.

Su Ming’s steps were steady. The hem of his purple True Disciple robe fluttered gently in the mountain breeze.

Along the way, he kept replaying in his mind the scene of his first visit to the Listening to Waves Pavilion.

Back then, he had only been an outer sect disciple, hadn’t even touched the threshold of Foundation Establishment.

Facing Elder Qingquan’s eyes, which seemed to see straight through a person’s soul, and that obscure, difficult “Eight Gates Lost Trace Incomplete Formation” test question, he could only grit his teeth and say, “Disciple will give it a try.”

Now, time had passed.

He was a Foundation Establishment initial stage cultivator. He wore the True Disciple robe. And on his chest, he bore the Border Defense True Seal from the northern battlefield.

His identity had changed, and so had his state of mind.

“What, you nervous?” Lin Yu keenly sensed Su Ming’s slightly quickened heartbeat.

“A little,” Su Ming answered honestly.

He looked ahead at the increasingly dense grove of green bamboo.

“After all, it’s been so long since I went to pay my respects. The elder has an odd temper; I’m afraid he might take offense, thinking that now that I’ve reached Foundation Establishment and become a True Disciple, I’ve started to neglect him.”

Lin Yu snorted dismissively.

“Put your mind at ease.”

Lin Yu’s voice carried a certainty that came from seeing through the ways of the world.

“That old man is a pure formation maniac. If he really were upset and felt you were neglecting him, he would’ve sent Luo Feng to curse you out long ago. He might have even dragged you over from Gazing Star Cliff to make you stand as punishment.”

“The fact that he never came looking for you means he didn’t take it to heart at all. All he cares about is whether you can solve that problem.”

After hearing this, Su Ming’s racing heart calmed down a little.

Ahead, a tranquil bamboo grove appeared in his field of vision.

The Listening to Waves Pavilion.

It was just as it had always been. Nothing had changed.

No oppressive spiritual pressure from Formation Peak’s main hall, no brilliant formations swirling through the air. Just a few stalks of green bamboo swaying in the wind, their leaves rubbing together with a soft rustling sound.

Su Ming softened his footsteps.

He passed through the half-closed bamboo fence gate.

A quiet courtyard came into view.

An ancient stone table, a few stone stools polished to a shine. A bamboo pipe, channeling water from a mountain spring, was dripping clear water into a pond in the corner.

Drip. Drip.

The sound of water was crisp, tapping at one’s heart.

At the edge of the courtyard, facing the cliff, an old man was sitting there, brewing tea.