Chapter Eleven: Should I Know You?

The process of merging cultivation techniques was not complicated. Wang Li was already familiar with the contents of the three methods, and with a single thought, his data analysis ability activated. By the time he awoke from meditation early the next morning, a new fire-type technique, named “Purple Qi Rising – Advanced Version,” of the highest quality within the Yellow rank, had appeared in his mind.

Yet Wang Li felt no joy from upgrading his technique; instead, he was filled with doubt.

Throughout the entire merging process, his involvement was minimal. He merely familiarized himself with the contents of the technique copies, and then, with a single thought, the upgraded method appeared in his mind. He didn’t even need to fully comprehend the explanations of the three technique copies—something about it all felt strange.

It was as if someone had simply stuffed the technique directly into his mind!

Even with Master Sheng telling him this ability was an anomaly, Wang Li couldn’t shake his skepticism.

Compared to the original “Purple Qi Rising,” the advanced version not only improved the quality but also allowed him to absorb spiritual energy more rapidly, increasing both the speed and efficiency of converting spiritual energy into spiritual power. More importantly, the advanced technique incorporated an attack spell derived from “Fury Vajra.”

Yet he distinctly remembered not including “Fury Vajra” in the merged technique.

This only deepened his confusion about his innate ability.

But for now, he lacked the means to investigate further, and could only enjoy the tangible benefits brought by this mysterious uncertainty.

Using “Purple Qi Rising – Advanced Version,” Wang Li could clearly sense that his cultivation speed, previously limited by the quality of his technique, had increased dramatically.

With the old method, it would have taken him at least a month to stabilize his Foundation Establishment stage, but after practicing the upgraded method, it took only five days to anchor his realm, and the amount of spiritual power stored in his body was nearly equivalent to a fully matured Foundation Establishment cultivator.

The rapid progress made Wang Li uneasy once again; he began to suspect his merged method wasn’t actually of the highest Yellow rank, but something of even higher quality.

Amid his anxious cultivation, Wang Li finally received the promised benefits from the sect leader.

Liu Wanjin brought him a top-tier Earth-rank flying sword, a set of Earth-rank protective armor, five hundred supreme-grade spirit stones, five thousand high-grade spirit stones, twenty thousand mid-grade spirit stones, one hundred thousand low-grade spirit stones, and over a hundred different pills.

Leaving aside the priceless Earth-rank artifacts, the spirit stones and pills alone were enough to nurture a Nascent Soul cultivator with resources to spare—some small sects might never amass so much even in a century.

Pure Sun Temple was, as always, generous to the extreme, though Master Sheng scoffed, feeling that Master Liuguang had failed to see the value of the phonograph, thus slighting his own reputation as a sage.

Wang Li had little concept of these items, having grown up practically immersed in spirit stones and pills, consuming far more resources than this pile could offer. What truly interested him was the sect leader’s arrangement for him.

As Master Sheng predicted, Master Liuguang assigned Wang Li to the Southern Sea, officially removing him from the disciples’ ranks and giving him a leisurely position as the Transmission Officer of the Scripture Pavilion, with the privileges of an inner sect devotee.

Pure Sun Temple had only Transmission Elders, not Transmission Officers—this post was created especially for Wang Li, its purpose clear: to keep him stationed in the Scripture Pavilion and prevent him from causing trouble within the sect.

Of course, there was the additional hope that Wang Li could complete some of the sect’s incomplete techniques, thereby enriching Pure Sun Temple’s heritage.

With a way to preserve techniques long-term and someone capable of restoring incomplete manuals, it would be foolish not to make use of him.

Master Liuguang understood the value of the phonograph well and knew the resources given to Wang Li could not match its worth, so he compensated by granting him the status of an inner sect devotee.

By giving him this status, Master Liuguang essentially acknowledged the cooperative relationship between Wang Li and Pure Sun Temple. Still, unsure of Wang Li’s true abilities, he placed him within the Scripture Pavilion’s protective array to monitor his every move.

The array around the Scripture Pavilion was of the highest caliber, no less than the sect’s mountain-protecting formation, equipped with alarm, surveillance, and isolation functions against external threats. Wang Li’s survival to the age of sixteen owed not only to the endless resources provided by his family and master, but also to the protection of this array.

These arrangements suited Master Sheng’s intentions perfectly, though for Wang Li, they were less than ideal.

Wang Li had lived within the array of the Scripture Pavilion for over a decade, always longing to see the wider world. Though Master Liuguang never explicitly forbade him from leaving, the psychological barrier remained.

He wasn’t foolish; his current situation was delicate. If he ventured outside, it would only heighten Master Liuguang’s suspicions. To avoid deepening any misunderstanding, he dared not leave the array’s boundaries lightly.

On the second day after Wang Li became Transmission Officer, the Scripture Pavilion, closed for over a month, finally reopened.

The visitors were the same familiar faces, but Wang Li could no longer feel the excitement he once had when hearing others recount their experiences of the outside world.

The officer’s red robe was a visible, tangible barrier.

Wang Li had no choice but to dress like a groom—Master Liuguang required it, and he had to comply.

The disciples noticed the change in Wang Li, and a few who knew him well teased him about his courage in wearing the officer’s uniform, warning him to watch out for Liu Wanjin’s cold demeanor.

Wang Li forced a smile, addressing everyone as “Senior Brother” or “Senior Sister,” listening to their stories of recent adventures outside the mountain, nodding and agreeing as usual, occasionally asking naive questions for them to answer, savoring these final moments with familiar acquaintances.

Liu Wanjin’s stiffness seemed innate, his sense of propriety as immutable as the heavens. The banter between disciples and an officer was intolerable to him; he reprimanded them, saying, “No respect at all! Just because Officer Wang is familiar with you, does that excuse your rudeness?”

The disciples exchanged puzzled glances, unsure why Liu Wanjin, with his expressionless face, was picking on them, but they were quick to admit fault.

“Officer Liu, I was too careless.”

“Yes, yes, we shouldn’t be noisy in the Scripture Pavilion—we’ll leave right away.”

...

The disciples fled in a hurry, leaving Wang Li glaring at Liu Wanjin.

“Officer Liu, what’s your intention here?”

“Look at the red robe you’re wearing—you should understand,” Liu Wanjin replied sternly. “Things aren’t what they used to be. You’d best not meddle with Pure Sun disciples.”

“So this is why you made me wear the officer’s red robe?”

Wang Li laughed angrily. “Why not just lock me up? That would be simpler!”

Liu Wanjin shook his head. “An agreement is an agreement. The sect leader won’t make things difficult for you. Don’t be ungrateful.”

“Hmph, the sect leader really is petty,” Wang Li said, flinging his sleeves and preparing to leave.

He had seen through it—the sect didn’t welcome him at all. Rather than quarrel with this stiff-faced fellow, he’d be better off restoring a technique or two for a reward.

“Who are you calling petty?” came a clear, bright girl’s voice from behind him.

Wang Li turned to see a young girl with her hair in a bun, glaring at him in anger.

She looked to be about eleven or twelve—a budding beauty, though still unformed, delicate and slender. Wang Li struggled to find a word to describe a girl of her age, feeling she was more like a half-finished version of one of those beautiful senior sisters.

Her anger was clearly directed at him, so Wang Li didn’t bother to be polite, asking bluntly, “And who might you be?”

The girl was startled. “You don’t know me?”

“Should I know you?” Wang Li replied.

The girl was furious. “You scoundrel!”

“Speak clearly,” Wang Li said. “I don’t hit women—but obviously, you’re not one.”

“Oh... say that again if you dare!”