Chapter 48: Sir, Give Us a Smile

Despite her utter reluctance, Feng Jiu still forced herself to part with a Phoenix Blood Crystal for Feng Ke’er—a true act of "painful sacrifice."

Phoenix Blood Crystals are formed by extracting the heart blood of a phoenix, condensed with spiritual power. They gleam with a vivid red, translucent and lustrous, warm to the touch, about the size of a glass marble, appearing as fine agate beads.

Feng Ke’er had previously stumbled upon records of Phoenix Blood Crystals while perusing materials. At the time, she eyed the meditating creature atop the low couch, her heart stirred with longing. Now, at last, her wish was fulfilled.

In the courtyard, two blocks of frozen wild fowl had thawed, soaking in a pool of blood. As compensation, Feng Ke’er walked over, picked them up, and prepared to simmer a pot of chicken soup to nourish Feng Jiu.

But just as she finished extracting the demon crystals, someone knocked at the courtyard gate.

"Who could it be?" Feng Ke’er paused, absent-mindedly handing the two demon crystals to Feng Jiu.

"Don’t worry. It’s that Tian fellow from earlier, along with several dozen new disciples, urging you to hurry," Feng Jiu replied, taking the crystals and swallowing them in one gulp.

The demon crystals melted instantly, their fresh, sweet flavor accompanied by warm spiritual energy spreading across his tongue. He stared in disbelief at the carcasses of the wild fowl: indeed, they were two ordinary white-grade demon beasts, so why did the demon crystals taste so special—far more delicious than those of first-grade beasts? The spiritual energy within was purer, too.

He was about to ask Feng Ke’er, but she had already hurried to the door, opening it.

Feng Ke’er intended to remind Feng Jiu to conceal his form, but suddenly recalled that, according to the records, boundaries set by higher cultivation practitioners are impenetrable to those of lower ranks. Feng Jiu’s cultivation was at the peak of the Condensation Pill stage; a group of new disciples with innate cultivation couldn’t possibly see through it. It was like her own cultivation, now at the mid-Foundation stage: after she set up the boundary, her spiritual sense became trapped within the courtyard, unable to perceive anything outside. So she didn’t bother with unnecessary precautions and simply opened the door.

The person knocking was indeed Senior Brother Tian, who stood respectfully at the threshold. "Senior Brother Qin, are you ready? We’re waiting outside for you."

Feng Jiu had predicted right. Behind him, several dozen male disciples in green robes stood in two rows. Each carried a cloth pack on his back, with daggers tucked at their waists. They stood at attention, their expressions solemn. It looked nothing like a trip to the public bathhouse—more like troops ready for battle.

Feng Ke’er glanced at the disciples, nodding gravely, "Please wait a moment, brothers. I’ll go inside and pack." Do you know the first rule of infiltration? Get into character quickly! Only then can you blend perfectly among dozens. Standing out would be asking for trouble.

Senior Brother Tian saluted and stepped back.

Even though the door’s state mattered little, Feng Ke’er habitually slammed it shut, turned, and asked, "Bird, you—"

In the courtyard, the gray, fluffy, fat chicken was gone. In its place stood a perfect copy of herself—Qin Heng. Even the revealed cultivation was at the early Foundation stage.

Such speed! Feng Ke’er took out a green-edged white short robe from her storage pouch. "Put this on, Senior Brother Qin."

Feng Jiu glanced at the robe, scoffing, "No need."

As he spoke, his blue robe had already transformed into the green-edged white short robe.

But Feng Ke’er noticed something amiss: this Qin Heng, at first glance, was like looking in a mirror. But on second glance, the discord began to show—and grew stronger the more she looked.

She praised him, took back the robe without ceremony, and, smiling teasingly, approached. "Sir, with your bearing, not even the elders at the Foundation stage are worthy to carry your shoes."

"What do you mean?" Feng Jiu frowned in displeasure. Not only had he once been a dignified immortal, but even now, as a peak stage Second Rank cultivator, with the unmatched power of the Concealment Talisman, turning into a mere outer sect disciple in a green robe was effortless! How could there be any flaw?

Feng Ke’er pointed to her own face. "Smile like I do, sir!" She was never one to nitpick, but now he was Qin Heng—the identity she didn’t know how long she’d have to impersonate. And it was the first time ‘Qin Heng’ appeared as a Foundation stage disciple in public after advancing. If this bird wore the face of someone owed two million, wasn’t that making enemies and inviting trouble? How would she survive in the future?

"No need for your concern. Mind yourself," Feng Jiu replied, still wearing that icy expression, arrogantly walking toward the door. Only he knew how irritable he felt inside: the wretched girl was pushing her luck!

In the past, anyone who dared address him so would have been slapped away with a wing.

To smile like that wretched girl—he’d sooner find a pillar to bash his head against.

Apparently immune to persuasion! Feng Ke’er stomped her feet in frustration behind him, helpless. With so many waiting outside, there was no time. She summoned the blood crystal and concealed herself.

Unbeknownst to her, Feng Jiu saw her angry expression and felt thoroughly pleased, a smile unconsciously curving his lips, forgetting all about the demon crystal.

Outside, Senior Brother Tian and the new disciples were momentarily stunned.

Now Feng Jiu began to doubt himself: Had he grown rusty after so long without taking human form? Did he slip?

"What’s wrong?" he asked, frowning.

Senior Brother Tian, closest to him, was the first to recover, his cheeks flushing bright red. "Nothing. Senior Brother Qin, you look very handsome when you smile."

The other male disciples quickly echoed this.

"Enough chatter, let’s go." It had been ages since anyone praised his looks; Feng Jiu felt secretly pleased, glanced at a certain someone, and led the disciples away in grand procession.

Narcissist! Feng Ke’er saw his smug look, closed the door, and followed, pressing her hand to her forehead.

A few dozen steps away, a man in black robes strolled out from a shadowy corner, watching their departing backs with a soft laugh. "Well, well, ‘Qin Heng.’ Three days absent, and now I find myself unable to break a restriction I’ve set. I wonder what manner of deity you truly are!" With that, he drew his wide sleeves over his head and turned into a wisp of clear smoke, vanishing into the wind.

Feng Ke’er sensed a powerful surge of spiritual energy behind her, heart tightening. She turned back quickly, but saw only the evening glow—rows of new disciple courtyards standing quietly in the gentle breeze.

She murmured ‘Strange,’ and, uneasy, sent her spiritual sense to search the surrounding ten-mile radius. Still, she found nothing.

Could there be another bird lurking about? She looked up at the brilliant sky and scratched her head. After her earlier experiences, she would no longer dismiss her feelings as mere ‘nerves.’

Just then, Feng Jiu sent a message via spiritual sense: "Girl, why are you dawdling?"

"It feels like someone’s behind us…" she replied in kind.

"It’s just some coward hiding in a corner. What are you afraid of?" Feng Jiu answered, apparently unconcerned.

With his words, Feng Ke’er felt much calmer.

The bathhouse lay at the foot of South Mountain. With their pace, they arrived in just over twenty minutes.

Along the way, they encountered more and more male disciples—whether senior brothers in the Foundation stage or new disciples in green robes, all looked much like them, weapons in hand, faces tense and grim.

Upon seeing Qin Heng—now Feng Jiu—a team of senior brothers in white robes pushed through the crowd toward them.

Feng Ke’er didn’t recognize him, but clearly, he knew Qin Heng. She watched Feng Jiu nervously, wondering how he would respond.

Feng Jiu smiled inwardly and stepped forward, saluting, "Senior Brother Hu." The other’s cultivation was only late Foundation stage—he could see right through him at a glance.

"Junior Brother Qin, congratulations on your advancement," Senior Brother Hu replied, saluting, and gestured to those behind him. "These are from Senior Brother Jun’s courtyard. Since we’ve met, let’s go in together."

Feng Jiu saluted the others. "Greetings, brothers."

They all returned the gesture.

Brotherly camaraderie—a promising start.

Who would have thought the bird could act so well? Watching their figures disappear into the bathhouse’s arched stone gate, Feng Ke’er rapidly patted her chest, whispering "Thank goodness, thank goodness."

Because the female disciples had vowed ‘harsh revenge,’ the male disciples treated it as a crisis, organizing spontaneously and preparing thoroughly: ten Foundation stage male disciples guarded the stone gate, scattering visibility powder; bathers were limited to one hundred at a time, the rest sat outside, forming a human security line; those finished bathing formed patrol squads, circling the bathhouse grounds.

Feng Ke’er was baffled: Did the female disciples really plan to storm the bathhouse en masse and spy on the men? That would be a bit much…

Yet soon, she understood.

Feng Jiu and his group had been inside barely three minutes when a seductive bamboo flute melody arose from the southeast of the bathhouse.

The seated male disciples sprang up, swords drawn if they had them, daggers if not, all trembling but vigilant, as if commanded, all turning toward the southeast.

Feng Ke’er, too, fixed her gaze there.

Hiss—hiss—hiss…

Countless soft sounds came from the southeast.

Feng Ke’er quickly sent out her spiritual sense. The female disciples were all lying in wait in the woods to the southeast. At the very front, about twenty Foundation stage female disciples stood in a row. Most were mid-Foundation or higher, each holding a bright green bamboo flute. The melody was their doing.

The hissing sounds came from their feet.

Feng Ke’er focused on their feet, and her scalp tingled from head to toe: By the heavens—so many snakes!

Yes, snakes. From their feet, like grass sprouting, all kinds of snakes emerged—large and small, venomous and non-venomous… After just a short passage of flute music, thousands poured forth.

Guided by the flutes, these snakes flicked their tongues and sped toward the bathhouse.

Thank you, Xiao Shui Dong Qu, for the Peach Blossom Fan and your encouragement. Apologies for my complaints earlier, which cost you. Today, I had no heart for writing, so I called some friends for a wild shopping spree, felt much better, and then returned home to write. Seeing your encouragement and comfort warmed my heart. Truly, thank you. (To be continued)

Tongtian Codex 48_Chapter Forty-Eight: "Sir, give us a smile" update complete!