One hour

Yang E, standing nearby, was utterly bewildered by what he had just heard. He immediately cried out, “Are you crazy, trying to fight Chixia’er?”

The noise of the crowd swelled even louder.

Chixia’er’s reputation in Pangshan City surpassed that of many senior masters. There was not a place in the city she had not been, and wherever she went, chaos followed. She was, without a doubt, a true female demon; both ordinary folk and cultivators alike dreaded her. Yet, because of her background and, most importantly, her highly respected master, the Venerable Qianji, no one dared do anything about her. Even if someone complained to her master, it wouldn’t be long before Chixia’er would be released from her “confinement” and come back to exact revenge. The complainer would only suffer more.

Everyone avoided Chixia’er like the plague. But today, someone had actually come to the Huangting Academy, openly declaring their intention to spar with the infamous demoness. Such audacity left everyone astonished. Some who had suffered under Chixia’er’s bullying couldn’t help but look at Li Miao in a new light; the contempt they once felt for him began to shift, a faint urge to cheer him on emerging in their hearts—hoping he would bring Chixia’er down a peg.

Of course, most people still thought Li Miao was overestimating himself. To challenge that young mistress was nothing short of courting disaster.

“Oh, looking for Xia’er, are you?”

Upon hearing his precious disciple’s name, the Venerable Qianji’s expression grew awkward. Stroking his beard to hide his embarrassment, he coughed and said, “Good, good, the young should have spirit. I quite support your resolve.”

“But rules are rules, and the thousand-year reputation of Huangting Academy must not be tarnished by your actions. Since you’ve caused trouble here, you must first accept punishment before you can enter the Outer Court.”

“Once you’re in the Outer Court, you must diligently earn contributions. When you’ve gathered enough and passed the Inner Court assessment, you may enter the Inner Court and qualify for training deep in the Purgatory.”

“As for whether you can defeat Xia’er, that will depend entirely on your own ability.”

Li Miao asked, “Then, respected Dean, what is my punishment?”

The Venerable Qianji replied, “According to the rules, for causing trouble in the academy, and if the matter is less serious, the offender is to strike the bell at the Mingzhong Tower for seven days. The bell must not cease its toll for the full seven days—if it stops, the punishment is extended another seven.”

Ring the bell for seven days?

That sounds rather easy, Li Miao thought to himself.

But when he glanced at the expressions around him, especially those of the young men and women lining up to join the Outer Court, he saw only exasperation and a sense of dread on their faces.

He couldn’t help but wonder—was there something more to this bell ringing?

Without giving him a chance to ask, the Venerable Qianji said, “Come with me, young friend. I shall personally accompany you to Mingzhong Tower.” There was a subtle, knowing look in his eyes.

Li Miao, still in the dark, could only follow with Xiao Yun in tow.

The three humans and one demon entered the gates of Huangting Academy and gradually vanished from sight.

Once the Dean was out of view, someone suddenly wailed, “Heavens, seven more days of that bell! Is it too late to withdraw from the academy now…?”

A companion tried to comfort him, “Don’t panic, brother. Maybe he’ll pick the smallest bell and ring it just for himself.”

“How could he?” the first protested. “Anyone bold enough to cause trouble at the academy’s gate is up to no good. He’ll definitely choose the second largest, the ‘Thunderclap Bell,’ and drag the entire academy into this!”

“Is the Dean punishing him or punishing us…?”

The Outer Court disciples were on the verge of tears, and even the senior disciple Yang E wore a miserable expression.

Suddenly, a voice from the back of the line asked, “Do you think he might pick the largest, the ‘World-Purifying Bell’? He seems quite powerful. Maybe he can actually make the great bell ring.”

“The World-Purifying Bell? Even if he could ring it, he’d last an hour at most—there’s no way he could keep it going for seven days. In the end, we’ll all suffer for it,” the others said, shaking their heads.

The green-robed maiden who had spoken pursed her lips in a faint smile. “Not necessarily. The Dean seems to regard him differently. I think this man might be quite interesting.”

———

Once inside the academy gates, the Venerable Qianji busied himself in conversation with Master Yangyan, paying Li Miao no further attention.

Both were supreme experts at the peak of the Profound Conduit Realm, even stronger than Ji Lingyu. Of the two, it was Master Yangyan whom Li Miao felt was especially dangerous. He was glad to be ignored by them.

“Yangyan, my old friend, it’s been four hundred years since we last chatted so leisurely,” Qianji sighed.

Yangyan smiled. “You, the busiest man in charge of the foremost immortal academy in Pangshan—if not for this chance encounter, I wouldn’t dare trouble you.”

“Oh, don’t speak of trouble between old friends,” Qianji laughed.

“How confident are you about gathering the Spirit Butterflies?” Yangyan asked.

Li Miao’s heart stirred.

He had already suspected that Yangyan, the red-haired master, was searching for Spirit Butterflies when he visited the Hundred Herbs Sect. But he hadn’t expected Yangyan to come to Qianji, apparently seeking his help in finding more.

Qianji slowed his pace, glanced back at Li Miao and Xiao Yun, and hesitated. “Is it appropriate to discuss this in front of the younger generation?”

Yangyan waved dismissively, regarding Li Miao with a smile. “I like this young man’s temperament. If he’s willing to become my disciple, there’s no harm in letting him hear.”

Become his disciple?

Li Miao was stunned.

What was going on?

This was none other than Master Yangyan, the Red Demon of Longquan Prefecture—the most formidable wandering cultivator, whose name was built upon rivers of blood and fire. Who knew how many lives he’d taken? And now, this old monster wanted to make Li Miao his disciple?

Li Miao was dumbfounded.

He had always regarded Yangyan as an enemy, hoping that one day when his own cultivation was strong enough, he could challenge him for the Spirit Butterfly. But now Yangyan didn’t see him as a threat at all—instead, he looked on him with appreciation, as if seeing a budding talent he couldn’t wait to claim for his own!

Qianji was no less surprised. His white brows arched and his eyes widened. “Did you say you want to take a disciple? In all the seven hundred years I’ve known you, this is the first time!”

Yangyan’s expression was calm. “Yes, the first. The struggle for the Spirit Butterflies is tied to ancient secrets—I’m not sure I’ll survive to the end. I don’t want my legacy to die with me, so I thought to take a true disciple and pass on my teachings.”

Qianji understood.

After all, the Spirit Butterflies were the key to the Great Void Divine Tomb, where countless ancient immortals and gods were buried. Their peak cultivation made them the best in Longquan Prefecture, but if the Divine Tomb emerged, the struggle would involve not just cultivators of one region, but all of the Eastlands. At that time, even peak Profound Conduit cultivators or those a step higher would not be assured of survival.

Understanding Yangyan’s intentions, Qianji turned to Li Miao. “Child, why don’t you kneel and greet your benefactor as master?”

Li Miao: “…”

Kneel, my foot!

He refused flatly, “I don’t wish to take a master.”

“Hmm?” Yangyan’s red brows knit.

Qianji asked, “Why? My friend here is a peerless expert at the peak of the Profound Conduit Realm, on par with myself. He has walked alone for centuries, never taking a disciple. If you become his student, he will surely teach you everything he knows. It would be a tremendous opportunity.”

For the distinguished Dean of Huangting Academy, renowned for nurturing countless students, to persuade his new disciple to apprentice under someone else—it was almost laughable.

But Li Miao was unmoved. He shook his head. “Thank you for your kindness, Master Yangyan, but I’m used to wandering on my own and prefer not to be bound by any ties. I must decline.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than a strange black vortex appeared before him. It materialized in an instant, giving Li Miao no time to react before swallowing him whole.

His soul barely had the chance to escape before it, too, was sucked irresistibly into the black vortex.

———

The vortex twisted several times, then vanished entirely from the world of cultivation, carrying Li Miao’s soul into the River of Time.

Although the vortex protected his soul, the River of Time still eroded it. Li Miao lost all of his memories—there was no chance of recall.

He drifted along with the black vortex through the River of Time until one day, another dazzling soul appeared. This soul had no vortex for protection, but was instead wrapped in a shimmering, multicolored shield.

Sensing this soul, the black vortex immediately captured it, then fused Li Miao’s soul with the soul of the traveler. As a result, the empty vessel that was Li Miao’s soul was filled with the traveler’s memories—a new identity was forged.

With a complete set of memories, the black vortex twisted again, disappearing from the River of Time and arriving at a blurred temporal branch—a timeline belonging to the Three Kingdoms era. In this timeline, it cast Li Miao’s soul into the body of someone who, in this reality, bore the surname Li instead of Yuan.

Who knows how much time passed before Li Miao awoke once more—his mind now filled with a strange new set of memories.

“My son Miao, after my death, you shall inherit my throne and become Emperor of the Middle Kingdom, ruling the land and dominating all under heaven!” This was the final message Li Miao’s adoptive father left him before he died.

Had this happened three days ago, Li Miao would have laughed himself awake at the thought—becoming emperor, ruler of an ancient realm, with three palaces and seventy-two concubines! What man hasn’t dreamed of such things? Now, with the death of his adoptive father, he had achieved it.

But Li Miao could no longer bring himself to feel happy.

His father’s surname was Li, given name Shu, courtesy name Gonglu—the same Lord Li who spent two years daydreaming on the throne.

This was Jiangting, the very place his adoptive father had met his end.

Li Miao was not the Li Miao he had once been—in short, he had transmigrated.

He had always thought it was sons who made trouble for their fathers, never imagining he’d be the one to be ruined by his dad.

Three palaces and six courts? None! All he had were a handful of burly maidservants—the pretty, delicate ones had died on the road to exile; only the strong survived.

Ruling the land, conquering the world? Impossible! He didn’t even control the four corners of the realm—his only holding was this run-down Jiangting, a small, impoverished county.

An army of a hundred thousand? A joke! Li Miao could count his followers standing in a row—barely a thousand in total, of whom only three hundred could be considered soldiers; the rest were old, weak, sick, or crippled.

Generals and strategists as numerous as clouds and rain? Was this some kind of mockery? Ever since his adoptive father declared himself emperor, he had been deserted by all.

His strongest general, Ji Ling, had been cut down by Zhang Hei in ten moves.

Generals Chen Lan and Lei Bu had fled, robbing his father on their way out.

The valiant Sun Ce had left the Li clan for the Jiangdong faction, trading a jade seal for independence—and that group was leagues better off than the bankrupt Li family.

Han Xian and Yang Feng had long since run off, pushed away by Lü Bu’s scheming.

Qiao Rui, Li Feng, Liang Gang, and Le Jiu had all died in battle in Chen.

Han Hao had been recruited by Lord Cao.

The only ones left were his uncle Li Yin, the warrior Zhang Xun, his brother-in-law Huang Yi, and the chief secretary Yang Hong.

With things as they were, what sort of emperor was he? Even the tiniest Greek state was more formidable.

“Better just sell off that jade heirloom and find a good boss!” With such pitiful assets, did he really think he could compete with Lords Cao, Sun, and Liu for supremacy? Time to stop dreaming—better to wash up and sleep.

Maybe, after selling the Imperial Seal that had let his father dream of the throne for two and a half years, one of the big bosses would give him a steady job.

Join up with Lord Cao? Li Miao knew well enough that Cao was the final victor of the Three Kingdoms, though the Cao Wei dynasty was eventually replaced—but at least he unified China! He might get himself a secure position, even something for his descendants. But then again, his adoptive father had claimed the throne, directly challenging the Liu dynasty; Cao always saw himself as the rightful heir. If Li Miao joined him, he might be killed outright.

No, that wouldn’t do.

What about Lord Liu? Li Miao considered it—not possible. Liu started as a mere sandal-seller, but his ambitions were great. He was a royal uncle, while Li Miao was the son of a traitor. Besides, his father had a long-standing grudge with Liu—at the alliance of the eighteen lords, his father had mocked him relentlessly. If Li Miao sought him out, he’d only be courting disaster. Liu might spare his life for the sake of his reputation, but luxury was out of the question. Besides, Liu hadn’t even risen to prominence yet.

Only Lord Sun remained. At this time, the head of the Sun family was still Sun Ce, not Sun Quan. Sun Ce was a dashing, generous man—Li Miao’s body’s original owner had met him, and his father had even considered marrying his daughter to him.

And in history, it was indeed Sun Ce who sheltered him.

Yes! He would seek out Lord Sun, hand over the Imperial Seal, and try to secure himself a stable position, a few wives and concubines, some retainers, and live out his days in comfort.

As Li Miao was happily picturing this future, an electronic voice suddenly sounded: “Are you sure you want to power off your phone? 1: Confirm. 2: Cancel.”