A Pawn's Passage

On Qi Xuansu’s side, there was no shortage of scions from prestigious families.

However, the title of “young master” did not necessarily mean they were young. Most were over thirty and were only at the fourth rank, still far below Qi Xuansu and Li Changge.

In truth, Qi Xuansu’s rise had been so rapid that many had lost the chance to even feel envious. Before the emotion even arose, the gap between them had already grown too wide. On paper, Qi Xuansu seemed only one rank above them, but when his age was factored in, it was effectively two ranks. That was because by the time Qi Xuansu reached their age, he would almost certainly be a second-rank Taiyi Daoist master, a true leader within the Daoist Order.

Most of these young masters clustered around Li Changge. In a sense, Li Changge was the greatest aristocratic scion of them all, being from the Li family.

Whether Qi Xuansu was truly the illegitimate child or the adopted child of some great figure, he still could not truly be considered part of a prestigious family. After all, he still carried traces of his wild Jianghu roots, or, as some might say, he reeked of the commoner’s stench.

This was Qi Xuansu’s awkward predicament. He could not be considered a young master because he had been rolling about in the muck of the lower rungs. To those of noble birth, Qi Xuansu was just a lucky peasant who had stumbled into fortune. But he was not exactly a commoner either because he had the backing of Madam Qi. True commoners would think that he was a nobleman.

Naturally, Qi Xuansu could not blend into their circle. Zhang Yuelu, however, belonged to this circle of scions. After all, she was born of the thousand-year-old Zhang family. Even if she was from a minor branch of the Zhang family, outsiders had no right to criticize her. But Zhang Yuelu rarely associated with these people, nor did she think much of them, which was why she was often condemned as arrogant and difficult to deal with.

Aside from these young masters, there were also those who came from the Wanxiang Daoist Palace.

Coming from the Wanxiang Daoist Palace could not simply be equated with being of lowly origin. Figures like Yue Liuli and Wan Xiuwu never considered themselves the lower rung of the Daoist Order. Instead, they always looked down upon their peers.

Those who had made it to Fenglin and gained entry to this banquet were certainly not ordinary. They were all standouts of the Wanxiang Daoist Palace. In terms of age, they were all older than Qi Xuansu, as they were several cohorts above him.

Those from the Wanxiang Daoist Palace were not especially numerous. Out of 100 Daoists, it would be good if even one stood out. Most of those who managed to achieve something had already shown promise during their years in the Lower Palace. A few had been fortunate by meeting good masters or receiving aid from benefactors. Thus, they were considered capable. Within their own cohorts, each would be a figure of note, but here, they were reduced to little more than supporting roles.

These people, having endured their own rise and fall, were the most pragmatic of all. They did not care about Qi Xuansu’s origins like the aristocratic scions who fussed over lineage and pedigree. What they wanted was simply to use the shared bond of being fellow alumni of the Wanxiang Daoist Palace to establish a connection with him.

Everyone with a discerning eye could see that Qi Xuansu was destined to soar into the heavens sooner or later. In fact, he had already begun to spread his wings. Who knew when he might become their direct superior or even their superior’s superior? If they could establish ties with him early, the benefits would last a lifetime. Only a few arrogant aristocratic scions still put on airs, unable to recognize reality as they were blinded by their family’s shelter. That was why they looked down on others and only clung to pedigree.

However, the truly top-tier scions never cared about lineage. They honored talent and spared no effort to win allies. Zhang Yuelu was such an example, simply agreeing to marry beneath her station, leaving no chance for anyone else.

Among those from the Wanxiang Daoist Palace, Qi Xuansu had indeed found a familiar face, a man named Cheng Lixue. He was three cohorts senior to Qi Xuansu and had been a leading figure of his time at the Lower Palace. Back then, Qi Xuansu had not been particularly eye-catching, and their chance acquaintance had been entirely coincidental.

At that time, Qi Xuansu was in an in-between position. He ranked around 20th within his own cohort, enough to catch the instructors’ notice occasionally. However, in the Lower Palace, he did not have much of a reputation.

On the other hand, Cheng Lixue was renowned throughout the Lower Palace, known as the instructors’ favorite student.

No matter how one looked at it, Cheng Lixue and Qi Xuansu should never have had much interaction. Yet by coincidence, they shared the same hobbies—firearms and the Holy Xuan Cards. Their first meeting was at the shooting range, where Qi Xuansu hit the bullseye with all ten shots, leaving a deep impression on Cheng Lixue. Their second meeting was at a Holy Xuan Cards tournament organized by the Lower Palace, where they faced each other as opponents. After a few encounters, they came to know each other, but not deeply.

At this reunion, Cheng Lixue was very warm, speaking to Qi Xuansu as though they were familiar. To outsiders, it might have seemed the two had been roommates during their days in the Lower Palace.

Qi Xuansu did not call him out on it. After all, they could still be considered friends.

There was still a long way to go before the banquet ended, so someone suggested playing cards. Everyone agreed. Some played, while the others watched. Qi Xuansu joined for two rounds, winning one and losing one. He defeated Cheng Lixue, but lost to Li Changge. However, since card games depended on luck, no one could judge from a single game whether Qi Xuansu stood above or below Li Changge.

After a while, someone proposed that merely playing cards was too dull. It would be better to invite a few female Daoists over to liven up the atmosphere.

Of course, they did not mean the young ladies of the noble Daoist clans. Those women—Zhang Yuelu, Yao Pei, and Li Zhuyu—had their own activities and circles, and no one here had the gall to call them over merely to brighten the mood.

What the scions meant were the young, pretty women of relatively low status. In such settings, they were not expected to do anything. They were merely there to serve as eye candy.

In an instant, everyone turned to look at Qi Xuansu.

The lifespan of Daoist priests was long, so apart from those anxious to procreate, few settled on lifelong commitments early. Even when they did, their Daoist partners were often far away, beyond reach. Qi Xuansu, however, was an exception. His betrothed, Zhang Yuelu, was close by, and she was notorious for her “bad temper.” If anything scandalous were to happen, it might not only embarrass Qi Xuansu but drag the others into the spectacle as well.

Qi Xuansu gave a slight cough, inwardly lamenting Zhang Yuelu’s “notorious reputation.” However, he could not object to the suggestion because that would make it seem as if he feared his wife. He certainly did not want to be saddled with the baseless reputation of being henpecked, so he said, “I have no objections.”

Before long, more than a dozen female Daoists entered the room. Each was graceful and striking in appearance. Some held positions in the Huasheng Hall, Duzhi Hall, or Ciji Hall, while others served in the Fenglin Daoist Mansion. Among them were even a few local Fenglin noblewomen, though from their speech and mannerisms, it was hard to tell.

None of these Daoist women showed the slightest dissatisfaction at being invited as mere ornaments. After all, it was hard to say who was prey and who was hunter, as the most skillful hunters often appeared in the guise of prey.

Of course, they did not hope to become Daoist partners of these high-ranking Daoists. That role was reserved for the noble daughters of Daoist clans of equal standing. But as long as they became friends, these powerful men would not begrudge sharing resources, perhaps helping them secure better positions, offering financial support, or even introducing them to friends of higher standing.

This way, these women would gradually rise in station. Once they gained rank, office, and authority, they would naturally have no shortage of young, handsome Daoists to make up for whatever regrets they might have had in their youth.

Qi Xuansu had always been picky in terms of friendship and affection, so he would not be tempted by these women. However, what surprised him was seeing another familiar face among them. She was two cohorts his senior at the Wanxiang Daoist Palace, named Song Nianhao.

In Qi Xuansu’s memory, she had been a forthright woman. There had never been any romantic connection between them, merely a few shallow encounters that left some impression.

But during the introductions, she called herself Song Yu.

Qi Xuansu had never expected that they would meet again in such a place and in such a manner. He had not expected that she would even change her name. This made him wonder if she had severed ties with her past.

Cheng Lixue laughed and said, “Song Yu, why don’t you sit by Tian Yuan’s side?”

Qi Xuansu said nothing.

Taking his silence as consent, Cheng Lixue arranged for Song Yu to sit beside Qi Xuansu.

Song Yu’s expression grew complicated. Clearly, she also recognized Qi Xuansu. She had long heard of his great reputation but had always assumed it was someone else with the same name. Never had she imagined that the fourth prodigy of the Daoist Order would be the junior she once knew.

Song Yu parted her lips as if to say something, yet she could not bring herself to say anything appropriate, so she held her tongue.

Qi Xuansu remained calm, merely nodding slightly in greeting. It was neither respect nor disdain. He thought to himself that without Madam Qi, he would likely be no better off than this senior sister. At most, he felt it was fate’s cruel play. A fine girl like her, whether by choice or compulsion, was warped by the vanity fair of worldly pursuits.

There was a saying that men were likened to wolves, while women to meat. Men sought to seize as much meat as possible, while the meat knew its own value. It was nothing more than a transaction.

As for Zhang Yuelu, Yao Pei, and the like, they too were wolves, and they had never lacked the stature of she-wolf leaders.

Sitting beside Qi Xuansu, Song Yu no longer displayed her usual social brilliance. Instead, she seemed somewhat restrained.

Meanwhile, Qi Xuansu began to consider how he might slip away from this unpropitious situation without leaving behind the reputation of being a henpecked man.