I Might Be a Big Shot — Chapter 10
When one’s strength reaches an extreme, no tricks or schemes can intimidate them — overwhelming force conquers all.
Changkong Zhuoyu and Li Xinglun were precisely in this situation now. Seeing that even the Hundred Flowers Miasma didn’t faze them, Scholar Bai dared not attempt any more petty tricks along the way and obediently led them to the Hundred Flowers sect master.
Before they arrived, Scholar Bai had sent word of their situation via a paper crane. By the time they entered the Hundred Flowers Gorge, the sect master was already waiting for them.
The sect master of the Hundred Flowers Sect, Rang Cencen, was a beautiful Miao woman. From afar, the master and disciple already saw a Miao woman wearing an exquisitely crafted silver flower crown on her head, with six uneven silver wings inserted at the front, decorated with a design of two dragons playing with a pearl. The crown also bore a pair of silver ox horns, about one meter tall, with colored streamers tied to the tips of the horns, appearing regal and splendid. Layers of silver neck rings adorned her throat, tiny silver bells hung from her ears, and every part of her gleamed with silver. Whenever a light breeze blew, the sound of the silver bells chimed crisply and clearly.
She wore a pleated skirt, with fiery red entwined serpent patterns embroidered on both sleeves, and the cuffs inlaid with a band of silver ornaments. The red embroidery and the silver complementing each other, making Rang Cencen herself seem especially charming.
Unlike Scholar Bai’s appearance as a Central Plains man, Rang Cencen was a typical Miao woman — beautiful and spirited. At first she seemed angry, standing at the gate radiating fury, her posture saying, “Even if you’re a Great Ascension cultivator, I won’t yield.” But as Changkong Zhuoyu’s face came into view, her anger melted into a smile.
Miao women were passionate by nature. She might not have welcomed a senior expert, but if it was a man as beautiful as Changkong Zhuoyu, she would have invited him inside even if he weren’t a Great Ascension cultivator.
Thus, Scholar Bai, who had hoped the sect master would back him up, heard her rebuke despairingly: “Honored guests arrive, and you let them walk here? Why didn’t you send a jade carriage to receive them?”
Scholar Bai: “….”
Master, that’s not what you said before! In your paper crane reply you clearly told me: Lead them here first; the Hundred Flowers sect isn’t to be bullied lightly. Our traps are many, and even a Great Ascension cultivator will regret it.
But now Rang Cencen seemed to have completely forgotten what she’d said before. She reached out to take Changkong Zhuoyu’s arm — Miao women’s sleeves were generally short, and when she reached out, her white wrist and gleaming silver bracelet caught the eye. She lacked the demure delicacy of Central Plains women but possessed a unique exotic allure.
Just as she was about to touch him, Li Xinglun lightly cleared his throat. Changkong Zhuoyu promptly flicked his wide sleeve, unobtrusively evading her hand.
He didn’t say anything like “men and women should keep their distance,” but every gesture clearly conveyed: I don’t wish to be touched by you.
Rang Cencen immediately looked displeased. Not one to hide her feelings, she smiled sarcastically and said, “What’s the matter? Does this handsome young lord think our Hundred Flowers sect, always dealing with poisons, has dirty hands? Or are you afraid I’ll harm you?”
Rang Cencen was the Miao saintess {enlightened one, or the initiated}, different from ordinary people — she was born with the memories of generations of saintesses, enabling her to cultivate far faster than others. She had formed her Nascent Soul within a century — an astonishing feat, even in the Central Plains.
Growing up with such a background, backed by the Hundred Flowers sect’s elders, she was naturally forthright. Even knowing Changkong Zhuoyu was a powerful senior, she couldn’t suppress her anger. An ordinary late Nascent Soul woman might pose little threat to a true expert, but as the Miao saintess — known as ‘witch’ in the Central Plains — her power was nurtured by Gu poison. The Hundred Flowers sect’s techniques were rooted in poison, and Nascent Soul stage’s toxins could even fell a Soul Transformation expert. Her strength allowed her to be angry or pleased as she wished.
Even a furious beauty was like a blooming flower. Changkong Zhuoyu had always appreciated beauty; otherwise, he wouldn’t have taken Li Xinglun as his disciple (oops, did that just reveal a secret?). Li Xinglun, with his sword-like brows and starry eyes, was an extraordinary talent — the most gifted scion in the Li family’s history. At his birth, a Kunlun elder examined him and said: “If he can form a Golden Core within a century, the Li family should send him to Kunlun. With his aptitude, he could become an inner disciple, maybe even a personal disciple, and break the family’s historical limit at the Golden Core stage.”
{Kunlun — the greatest righteous cultivation sect.}
Changkong Zhuoyu’s appreciation for Rang Cencen’s beauty wasn’t lecherous but a pure love of beautiful things. Seeing her anger, he calmly said, “Not so. Encountering a blooming flower along the way, I only worry that I might harm its petals and mar its beauty — a shame indeed.”
The meaning: I’m so powerful that even I can’t fully control my strength. Don’t touch me carelessly — if the backlash ruins your looks, that would be unfortunate.
Li Xinglun and Scholar Bai, understanding his words, couldn’t help twitching their lips. Only Changkong Zhuoyu could deliver such supremely confident words so naturally — neither arrogant nor threatening, just calmly stating a fact. His nonchalance made their teeth itch.
But Rang Cencen didn’t understand!
She didn’t grasp the subtle, roundabout ways of Central Plains speech. To her, his words meant: You’re very beautiful. I fear offending a lovely lady. Any woman hearing a handsome man praise her beauty would be delighted. So Rang Cencen shyly touched the silver ornaments dangling from her crown, making them chime like windbells, and asked, “Am I beautiful? As beautiful as the flowers in the valley?”
“The wildflowers in the valley can’t compare to the Sect Master’s vibrant beauty,” Changkong Zhuoyu replied, admiring her silver-clad attire. It really was beautiful — should he conjure such an outfit for himself too?
A few exchanges later, Rang Cencen was all smiles, no longer trying to touch him. Instead, she mimicked a Central Plains gesture of invitation and said, “Honored guest, please be seated. I know you Central Plains folk enjoy tea, so I’ve prepared fine spirit tea, brewed with morning dew collected from the flowers. Please, Lord Changkong, have a taste. If there’s anything our Hundred Flowers sect can do — so long as you offer what we seek — we shall gladly comply.”
She didn’t call him ‘senior’ but addressed him as ‘lord,’ unwilling to lower her rank. As sect master of the Hundred Flowers sect, though young, her status matched that of other sect heads — she and Changkong Zhuoyu could barely be considered peers.
Rang Cencen led the way. Hearing she was willing to barter, Changkong Zhuoyu glanced back at Li Xinglun, giving him a triumphant thumbs-up.
Li Xinglun: “….”
While Rang Cencen and Scholar Bai weren’t looking, he dashed forward, pressed Changkong Zhuoyu’s hand, and — hidden beneath his hat — mouthed to him: Hold your composure. Don’t ruin your image now.
Though their bamboo hats shielded them from detection by Rang Cencen and Scholar Bai, Changkong Zhuoyu saw through it all as easily as when Li Xinglun had once failed to see through his white mist.
Reading his lips clearly, Changkong Zhuoyu quickly withdrew his thumb, turned his head, and resumed his lofty demeanor — a wave of his sleeve, and he appeared as serene as ever.
Li Xinglun finally exhaled in relief, wiping sweat from his brow.
Following behind Rang Cencen, Scholar Bai was utterly dumbfounded. Their sect master normally treated men with disdain, often calling them “filthy males.” If any man dared compare her to a flower, she’d poison his tongue on the spot. In her words: This sect master’s beauty is not something filthy men are worthy to speak of.
Yet today she completely broke character, letting Changkong Zhuoyu slight her under the guise of praise without anger — even blushing. Scholar Bai felt like he’d been struck by lightning.
Poor Scholar Bai had no idea: in any era, in any world, appearances mattered. The men who ogled Rang Cencen daily couldn’t compare to even a single strand of Changkong Zhuoyu’s hair. Who cared for their compliments?
The Hundred Flowers sect’s architecture differed greatly from the Central Plains — full of exotic charm. Only the teacups on the tables, exquisite porcelain from the Central Plains, matched Changkong Zhuoyu expectations {how would he know, though, having forgotten everything}.
Rang Cencen served tea to Changkong Zhuoyu. When he lifted the lid, a fragrant aroma wafted up. His brows smoothed, and he nodded politely to her before elegantly sipping.
Tea brewed from the morning dew of the flowers sounded fine — but this was the Hundred Flowers sect. The mountain-guarding formation outside was already the Hundred Flowers Miasma; how good could this tea be? Li Xinglun grew anxious but could only watch Changkong Zhuoyu drink. This was the sect’s challenge — if they wanted anything from the Hundred Flowers sect, they had to prove themselves worthy.
Rang Cencen’s bright eyes never left Changkong Zhuoyu. When she saw him drink without changing expression, without even circulating his true essence to neutralize anything, she was astonished and couldn’t help exclaiming: “Lord Changkong, you truly are a divine man. My Hundred Flowers Dew contains the essence of all the flowers here. At first it makes one dizzy and drains their power, but after a moment’s meditation, the floral energy fills the body — both poison and not poison, greatly beneficial to cultivators. We don’t serve this tea to just anyone.”
She added, “I’m young myself and have never seen anyone drink the Hundred Flowers tea before. But the elders say: the faster one recovers after drinking, the higher their cultivation. And in thousands of years, only one person drank it without any reaction — the Demon Sect’s master, Xue Qianjie, two thousand years ago.”
{Xue Qianjie — lit. Blood Thousand Calamity; the reason for this name is explained in chapter 22.}
Changkong Zhuoyu’s eyes lit up, and he immediately asked, “Oh? Such a master truly commands admiration. Might the Sect Master tell me more about him?”
Li Xinglun inwardly groaned. Master, wake up — someone with such a tasteless name as ‘Xue Qianjie’ couldn’t possibly be your past self!
~ Chapter End ~
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