Senior sister, stop working and go home for dinner.

Chapter 416 The Wind on the Martial Arts Arena

Wei Yiran followed behind him, walking out along the path.

Along the way, she saw many people.

Some senior brothers and sisters dressed in inner sect disciple robes hurriedly ran away with their bundles, their faces showing relief at surviving a disaster; some outer sect disciples squatted by the roadside, spreading out their accumulated belongings over the years to rummage through them, picking and choosing, and finally only taking away the most valuable items; some servants from the handyman's quarters gathered in twos and threes by the well, whispering something, one of them looked up, saw Wei Yiran, paused for a moment, and then lowered his head.

That's Zheng Yunlong.

The person who once said they would give her "frostbite cream" by the well.

He was squatting by the well, with only a small bundle beside him. His face was ashen, like a blade of grass touched by frost. When he saw Wei Yiran, he instinctively tried to stand up, but his legs twitched and then he pulled back.

Wei still didn't stop.

She simply walked past him, her gaze falling on him for a fleeting moment before looking away.

Zheng Yunlong opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but Wei Yiran had already walked away.

Zhou Su led Wei Yiran through the outer gate, across the stone steps she had walked countless times, and to the main peak training ground.

The training ground was now packed with people.

No, it's not "standing". It's "kneeling".

More than a thousand Qingyang Valley disciples knelt in unison on the bluestone platform, heads bowed, no one speaking. Directly in front of the training ground stood several people Wei Yiran didn't recognize.

Some were dressed in Taoist robes, some in Buddhist robes, and some in strange short garments. They stood there, looking at the kneeling disciples with different expressions.

Zhou Su stopped at the edge of the training ground.

He whispered, "You wait here."

Wei Yiran nodded.

Zhou Su turned and left, his figure quickly disappearing into the crowd.

Wei Yiran stood still, looking at the dark mass of people kneeling in front of her, at the faces she knew and didn't know.

There were talented disciples from the inner sect, their heads bowed and shoulders trembling slightly; there were stewards from the outer sect, who usually bossed people around, but now they knelt straighter than anyone else; there were servants from the miscellaneous quarters, pale and thin, who, like her, simply knelt.

She saw Xuanzhenzi.

The Valley Master, a Nascent Soul cultivator, stood at the forefront, bowing slightly, his snow-white beard and hair gently swaying in the wind. Behind him knelt the five Golden Core elders, and further back were thirty-seven Foundation Establishment stage deacons.

One thousand eight hundred and sixty-three people knelt in neat rows.

Wei still did not kneel.

She stood there, at the edge of the training ground, behind everyone, looking ahead.

At this moment, a monk-like man stepped forward and said, "Disciples of Qingyang Valley, those who wish to stay will enter the outer sect of Yunyin Sect and cultivate according to the rules; those who wish to leave will have their cultivation abolished, be given travel expenses, and be free to do as they please."

The training ground was deathly silent.

A moment later, someone moved.

It was an inner disciple kneeling in the front row. He raised his head, looked at the person on the sword, his lips trembling, and in the end said nothing. He just kowtowed heavily, then stood up and staggered out of the martial arts arena.

Once someone takes the lead, others will follow.

One, two, ten, a hundred...

Those disciples who wished to leave stood up one after another and walked to one side of the martial arts arena, where people from the Cloud Hidden Sect were registering them and distributing travel expenses. Their backs were hurried and disheveled, and some of them would turn back every few steps to look at the mountain where they had lived for several years or even more than a decade, and at their fellow disciples who were still kneeling in the same spot.

But many more people did not move.

They remained kneeling, heads bowed, waiting.

Wei Yiran looked at the kneeling people, at their bowed heads, at their slightly trembling shoulders, and suddenly something came to mind.

Half a month ago, she stood at the door of the woodshed in the servants' quarters, watching Zhou Su bring over the set of inner disciple's clothes.

At that time, she wondered, what is spiritual practice?

Now she knows.

Spiritual practice is not about kneeling.

Even when kneeling, one can still know why they are kneeling.

The wind was stronger in the training ground than before.

Wei Yiran stood at the back of the crowd, watching those who remained kneeling, watching the backs of those who gradually rose and left, and watching the several figures dressed in different clothes directly in front of the training ground. The wind blew her hair, brushed against her cheeks, and felt a little cool.

She remembered what her grandfather had said to her when he saw her off: "Go."

At that time, she didn't know where she was going or what awaited her. She simply walked up the long stone steps and entered the silent mountain gate.

Now she's standing at the same intersection again.

Those who wish to stay may enter the outer gate of the Cloud Hidden Sect.

Those who wish to leave will have their cultivation abolished and will be given travel expenses.

She looked down at her hands. These hands had been soaking in the well water of the servants' quarters for a year; the cracks from the frostbite had just scabbed over, her knuckles were a bit thicker than a year ago, and thin calluses had formed on her palms.

There was no inspiration.

She remembered the four words Zhou Su had said to her when they first met. She had no talent then, and she still didn't. If she were willing to stay, what could she do with her "lack of talent"?

It's probably still about washing clothes, chopping wood, and cleaning the spirit beast enclosure.

Just like before.

But it's different.

She raised her head and looked at the group of people from the Cloud Hidden Sect in front of her.

The monk in his robes was whispering something, his hands clasped together; the demon woman with animal ears had her amber eyes sweeping over the kneeling crowd, her gaze sharp enough to see right through people; and the round-faced, slightly chubby young man stood to the side, holding something in his hand, talking quietly with the person next to him.

Their expressions were unlike any of the immortal masters she had ever seen.

There was no condescending condescension, no aloofness that seemed to say, "I'm looking at you, you're not worthy to look at me." They were simply... doing their jobs. Registering, inquiring, distributing travel expenses, arranging departures and stays. Like the head maid in a general's mansion, like the clerk in a government office.

Wei Yiran lowered her eyelashes.

She suddenly remembered the jade charm her father had given her.

"In the event of extreme danger, crush this talisman."

The jade talisman was still pressed against her chest, warm, carrying her body heat. She didn't crush it, not even once.

It wasn't because of a crisis that they didn't come.

It's because she knows that some things are better left unresolved, no matter how hard you try.

A slight commotion suddenly arose ahead.

Wei Yiran raised her head.

A little girl walked towards her.

The little girl was about ten years old. She walked slowly but without hesitation, passing through the kneeling, standing, and hurried crowds, heading straight for Wei Yiran.

Wei remained motionless.

She stood there, watching the little girl approach step by step, finally stopping three feet in front of her.

"Are you Wei Yiran?" the little girl asked.

Wei Yiran's eyelashes trembled slightly.

She didn't ask, "How do you know my name?" or "What do you want from me?" She simply nodded slightly.

"Yes."

The little girl looked at her, her gaze sliding across her face, landing on the wrist peeking out from the cuff, on the jade ring tied with a red cord, and then slowly moving back to her face.

"My name is Xiaoling'er."

As she spoke, Xiao Ling'er looked at Wei Yiran with a dazed expression. After a moment, she murmured:

"So similar."