Huaqing didn’t try to keep him—he was only too glad for him to leave. Cheng Xi, however, clenched his fists at the sight of the celadon bottle. He tugged at Huaqing’s sleeve.
“Shixiong, how could you give pills to people from another realm but not to me?”
Huaqing, who had his back to Cheng Xi, rolled his eyes, but he plastered on a smile and turned back to hand him a bottle. “If you want, take some. Have fun.”
Cheng Xi was delighted. Huaqing was famous among the orthodox sects as the Flaming Flower Elixirist, and his elixirs were highly sought after. Every one of his creations was extraordinary, even the ones he concocted impulsively. To Cheng Xi, who was still at the qi-refining stage, this was a valuable treasure. He left practically skipping with both the item his master had sent him for and the precious pill his senior had given him.
Having nothing to show for his busy day, and seeing as the sun was setting already, Mo Tianliao decided to return to Qingning Palace and look for Bailuo tomorrow. He didn’t see any sign of his master, and the cat in his arms jumped down and ran off, refusing to sleep with him, so he reluctantly returned to his own courtyard alone.
Several disciples of the Chamber of Administrative Affairs were waiting for him at the entrance. Mo Tianliao frowned. “Your shifu is back, so there’s no need to come to me about these matters anymore.”
The disciples exchanged looks. “Shifu said you’re doing a better job than he is,” one of them said, “so he’s washing his hands of these matters.”
Menghu had been thrilled when he found out that his junior had done an efficient job of managing all the routine affairs over the past few months—and no less effectively than Yanlie at that. Finally free from losing fur over these trivial matters day after day, he’d insisted on continuing to entrust this important job to his junior.
Meanwhile, the idling senior himself went to Qingning Palace to look for their master.
The inner chamber was brightly lit, offering a clear view of the furnishings within. Thick, white cushions covered the floor. The snow-white cat was lounging lazily in the center, where he almost blended in with the cushions. Without his exceptionally keen eyesight, Menghu would have missed him.
He took off his shoes and threw himself down before the cat. “Greetings, Shizun.”
The cat lazily opened his eyes and yawned.
Menghu scratched his head and rolled over. Yellow light flashed, and a tiger about five and a half feet long with bright orange fur appeared on the soft cushions. “Shizun! Let’s roll around!”
Ignoring this silly suggestion, Pawpaw stretched lazily before jumping onto the tiger’s head. The weather had been a little cold lately. It’d be warmer sleeping on a tiger-skin rug.
The tiger lay obediently still, not daring to move with the little furball on his head. “Shizun, Shidi doesn’t seem to be a spirit cultivator, but he isn’t human either.”
Qingtong hummed an acknowledgment and swished his tail.
“He’s pretty good at managing the routine affairs, not at all like a newcomer to the sect.” The tiger sprawled on the ground, so flat he looked like a real tiger rug from afar. When he didn’t get a response, Menghu twitched his ears. Feeling the even breathing on his head, he wisely shut up and spent the entire night sprawled out like that, serving as his master’s fur rug.
The next day, Mo Tianliao still couldn’t find his cat, so he went to look for Bailuo on his own.
Most of the sect’s spiritual herbs were planted in the Blessed Sanctuary of a Hundred Herbs. New disciples with the wood attribute would sometimes be assigned here to look after these spiritual herbs.
The Blessed Sanctuary of a Hundred Herbs was divided into several zones. The outer areas contained regular spiritual herbs that ordinary disciples could tend to, while the inner area contained rare spiritual herbs and trees that required supervision by the specialized inner disciples. As for the innermost medicinal garden, only first-generation personal disciples and the three sanctum-masters had access.
Gracing the medicinal garden were several thousand-year-old trees that provided shade, as well as countless exotic flowers and plants. Because of the abundance of spiritual energy, they occasionally emitted specks of spiritual glow. It was a beautiful sight.
Bailuo, dressed in a white, formfitting outfit, was squatting on the flower path, looking in concern at a spiritual herb. This spiritual herb was shaped like a sword, with perfectly straight stems, except it had no leaves. Or, more precisely, the leaf stalks were bare. The leaves had been eaten, every single one.
“Ha ha ha, you’re in trouble again,” an annoying voice said from behind him. Bailuo looked back to see a gloating Zimo. Zimo bounced over and shook his head. “How many times have I told you?” He clicked his tongue. “Show some restraint even if you’re hungry. How can it survive with all its leaves eaten off?”
Bailuo glared at him and said nothing.
“Come on, have a chicken drumstick.” Zimo pulled out a roasted chicken from his sleeve. “This is Shizun’s favorite Swordleaf Grass. He’s going to eat you up for ruining it—here, be a good bunny and have some meat. Eat your fill before you pass on.”
Bailuo clenched his fists, driven beyond the limit of his endurance. He smacked the drumstick away, grabbed Zimo by the collar, threw him over his shoulder to the ground, and followed up with a punch.
“Bailuo, how dare you! I’m your shixiong!”
“So?”
“Ow, ow, ow!”
When Mo Tianliao entered, he saw one of his seniors straddling another senior, the latter struggling and panting heavily. The two in question, sensing someone’s presence, halted mid-tussle and looked back stiffly, frozen in place with the one on top pinning the one below by the wrists and the one below pushing against the chest of the one above.
“Please continue, gentlemen. I’ll come back again another day.” Mo Tianliao turned to go back the way he came.
✦ ✦ ✦
MINI EXTRA
Woodworker: See no evil. I’m leaving.
Bailuo & Zimo: Chotto matte! It’s not what you think it is.