Leaving the Repair Hall, Su Ming didn't hurry back to Formation Peak. Instead, he turned a corner and came to a stop beneath a secluded covered bridge.

He took out that wooden box from his chest and gently opened it.

The lid opened, but no brilliant treasure light spilled forth. Only a cold, metallic scent rushed to meet him.

On the black velvet lining, thirty-six steel needles were neatly arranged.

The needles were as thin as ox hair, their entire bodies showing a dark bluish-green hue that spoke of being tempered a thousand times. On the tail of each needle, within an extremely tiny space, was carved an ancient, simple character: "Repair."

These needles had no spiritual energy fluctuations; they were not magical implements.

But Su Ming could tell at a glance that this was "hundred-fold refined steel" repeatedly folded and forged, stripped of all impurities, relying purely on physical hardness and sharpness to achieve the pinnacle of lethal weaponry.

"This thing is quite interesting." Lin Yu's voice sounded in his Consciousness Sea. "No spiritual energy attached, divine sense can hardly sweep them. If paired with your 'Dripping Water Force' or magnetic control, they'd be an absolute master at ambushing people. These rough fellows have surprisingly delicate minds."

Su Ming extended his index finger, his fingertip gently brushing over that row of cold needle points.

To polish these thirty-six steel needles, who knew how many days and nights were spent, how many good pieces of steel were wasted. This was the Repair Hall brothers' most unadorned way of wanting to protect him, their "leader who had flown up the branch."

They knew that as Su Ming climbed higher, the dangers he faced grew greater. They couldn't help much, so they could only offer this hidden weapon for his sleeve.

"Master."

Su Ming closed the wooden box, storing it close to his body. He felt that trace of coolness seeping through his clothes, yet his heart was filled with warmth.

"What?"

"This place will always be my retreat."

Su Ming looked towards the distant, continuous cloud-wreathed mountains, saying softly, "As long as the Repair Hall remains, I am not alone. If one day I fall from above, at least there is still a place where I can peacefully repair a table or mend a formation plate."

"Having a retreat is a good thing." Lin Yu chuckled.

Su Ming nodded.

He took one last look back at that little courtyard full of worldly life, then turned and walked towards Formation Peak, shrouded in mist and clouds.

This time, his footsteps were a bit lighter than when he had come. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

...

Leaving the Repair Hall, carrying that box of steel needles and a heart full of warmth, he still did not directly return to Gazing Star Cliff.

He thought of the two "shishu," Qingfeng and Mingyue. Last time they returned, he had only seen them briefly; it was time to pay them a visit.

Changing direction, he descended towards the Purple Bamboo Sea behind Guiding Peak.

Purple Bamboo Sea, behind Guiding Peak.

The wind here was completely different from Gazing Star Cliff. If the wind at Gazing Star Cliff was a blunt knife grinding against rock, then the wind of Purple Bamboo Sea was silk brushing across zither strings. Bamboo leaves rubbing together produced a fine, rustling sound, like an endless light rain.

Su Ming walked slowly along a small path covered in fallen leaves, his feet making soft, crisp sounds.

Su Ming reached out and pushed aside a verdant bamboo stalk blocking the path ahead.

The view suddenly opened up.

A delicate little courtyard was hidden deep within the bamboo grove, its fence wall covered in unknown wildflowers. In the center of the yard, a spiritual spring bubbled with hot vapor, the water striking green stones and producing a pleasant, tinkling sound. Beside the spring, a few orchid plants were in full bloom, their petals showing a translucent moon-white color, shimmering with a faint glow under the dappled bamboo shadows.

That was "Moon Shadow Orchid," a delicate and rare spiritual plant cultivation, most fond of purity, withering at the slightest hint of worldly smoke.

Beside a stone table, Qingfeng was scratching his head in frustration over a Go board, while Mingyue was quietly brewing tea.

"Su Ming's here?" Qingfeng didn't even look up, speaking irritably to the Go board. "Come quick, help me look. Am I completely dead in this game, tricked again?"

Mingyue looked up, seeing it was Su Ming, a smile appearing on her plain, clean face. "Su Ming is here."

Su Ming quickly returned the greeting with proper solemnity. "Shishu Qingfeng, Shishu Mingyue." In private settings, he still maintained the etiquette of a junior.

"Ah, how many times have I said, don't bother with that in private." Qingfeng finally gave up on the board, slumping back into his rattan chair, waving a hand. "Hearing it makes us sound old. Let's each go by our own measure. You're a true disciple now too, your sect status is no less. It sounds awkward."

Even so, Su Ming still maintained respect. This seniority wasn't just about rules; the care and crucial reminders Qingfeng and Mingyue had given him back then also deserved this reverence.

"Alright, enough. In private, what need for so many formalities."

Su Ming smiled and waved his hand, walking straight to the stone table and sitting down. He took out two black clay jars sealed with mud from his storage pouch and placed them on the table.

Thud.

The dull sound made the stone table tremble slightly.

"This is..." Qingfeng leaned over, sniffed, his eyes instantly brightening. "What a sharp smell! Is this Northern Border wine?"

"Deep Pool Burn." Su Ming patted the jar's body. "The Northern Border is bitterly cold. To drive out the cold miasma that enters their bodies, cultivators there brew wine with deep pool cold water, then fiercely burn it with earth fire. This wine goes down the throat like swallowing a knife, but in the belly, it's like swallowing a ball of fire. When I was at Iron Wall Pass, the old soldiers craved this the most."

"Good stuff!"

Qingfeng couldn't wait, slapping open the mud seal.

A piercing, almost acrid, wine fragrance instantly exploded in the small courtyard. The scent held not just the aroma of grain, but also a rough, gritty quality akin to rusting raw iron and melting ice and snow.

Qingfeng didn't even use a cup, directly lifting the jar and taking a big gulp.

"Cough, cough, cough—!"

The next moment, his entire face flushed crimson, coughing violently, tears almost coming out.

"This... this isn't wine!" Qingfeng gasped while complaining, but his hands clung tightly to the jar, not letting go.

Mingyue gave him a helpless glare, pushing the freshly brewed tea towards Su Ming.

"Don't mind him. A while back, Master punished him to tend to those ten acres of 'Drunken Immortal Grass.' But this guy, he actually fell asleep in the grass pile. The scent Drunken Immortal Grass emits naturally has hallucinogenic effects. He slept for three days and three nights. If I hadn't dragged him out, he might have rotted right there in the field."

Mingyue's voice was clear, like spring water striking stone. Her tea set was an elegant, plain white porcelain. The tea liquor was jade-green and clear, a few bamboo leaves unfurling in the water, emitting a faint, clear, bitter fragrance.

"That was an accident!" Qingfeng wiped the wine stain from the corner of his mouth, defending himself. "Who knew that grass was so potent? At the time, I felt like I'd fallen into clouds, floating, ethereal... Ah, never mind that."

He looked at Su Ming, his eyes holding a bit more inquiry. "Senior Brother Su, the Northern Border over there... is it really as miserable as the rumors say?"

Su Ming's hand, lifting the teacup, paused slightly.

The tea liquor reflected his calm face. He took a sip, the clear bitterness of bamboo leaves spreading on his tongue, washing away the non-existent taste of blood in his throat.

"A bit worse than the rumors."