Chapter 1

The sun hung lazily in the late afternoon sky, its rays painting the landscape of Qi Yun Peak in a rich, golden glow. The tranquil atmosphere was accentuated by the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze and the melodic chirping of distant birds, creating a serene backdrop that enveloped Xue Xinyu and Lǐ Tāo as they sat in the room. Surrounded by meticulously tended blue-themed decorations that adorned his residence. The view from the mountain's summit through the window was breathtaking.

Lǐ Tāo leaned forward, his expression serious, breaking the peaceful ambiance with his inquiry. "Xinyu Da Ge, do you intend to permit Liang Zhiguan to participate in the Wayfarer's Trial?" His voice carried the weight of something significant, drawing Xue Xinyu's undivided attention.

The Wayfarer's Trial loomed large in the minds of disciples across the sects, a revered test of skill and fortitude where the most promising talents were forged or broken. Lingyun Peak, perennially boasting the finest disciples, held the prestigious title of producing the realm's top talents, with Qi Yun Peak perennially playing the role of talented runner-up.

"Why wouldn't I allow him to participate?" Xue Xinyu ponders aloud, his brain churning like a hamster on a wheel. There's something fishy about this trial, and with his memory resembling Swiss cheese, it takes him eons to connect the dots.

Ah, the Wayfarer's Trial, that legendary crucible where disciples were forged into iron-willed warriors or, more likely, mildly traumatised survivors. Every sect's chance to flex their muscle and flaunt their top-notch talent for all the realm to see. 

Lingyun Peak dominates like an undisputed heavyweight champion while Qi Yun Peak consistently plays second fiddle like a sad trombone.

The Wayfarer's Trial was a significant arc in the novel. Before the trial existed, the location was a rift, opening up between Ende and a distant mountain from the peaks, likely for undead creatures to invade the sect. 

Qi Yun Peak, the main peak responsible for handling such issues, arrived at the site. During that time, the area mainly resided in the mountains. During their efforts to close the rift and repel the creatures from Ende, Huai Xiaozhun's teacher, Lan Yunlong, died. This event held successful importance, although the author never provided a complete explanation of how it all unfolded.

The trial was likely to take place in a few months, as Lǐ Tāo had first discussed it with Huai Xiaozhun at that time in the novel.

"I was rather uncertain, but I suppose his background won't ever hold you back," Lǐ Tāo remarked, chuckling. Even though Huai Xiaozhun had a much more intricate backstory, Liang Zhiguan also had a questionable one. He experienced abandonment not just once, but twice. Of course, only readers of the novel would be aware of that. 

Lǐ Tāo discussed the circulating rumours, rumours initiated by Liang Chen. The rumours weren't utterly inaccurate. Both the teacher and student encountered accusations and endured comparable consequences, which was quite amusing.

Taking a deep breath, Xue Xinyu interjected with conviction, "His origins hold no sway over my decision." Though Liang Zhiguan didn't exactly top Xue Xinyu's list of favourite characters in the novel, there was an undeniable purity and innocence about him. Now, Xue Xinyu felt compelled to safeguard that innocence.

"I understand. If that's your perspective, then I'll abide by it," Lǐ Tāo acknowledged. His admiration for Huai Xiaozhun was evident. As Liang Zhiguan re-entered the room, he replenished the tea cups and placed a plate of cookies on the table.

"Zhiguan, your progress has been exemplary. Therefore, I propose you take part in the upcoming trial," Xue Xinyu declared, locking eyes with his student. Liang Zhiguan blinked, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected directive. "Of course, Shizun. I was under the impression you preferred I kept a low profile among disciples from other sects," he replied earnestly, his demeanour a blend of humility and determination.

"Interact only with those you trust," Xue Xinyu echoed now, plucking a cookie from the plate with a thoughtful air. Liang Zhiguan beamed in response, his youthful enthusiasm undimmed despite the weight of impending trials. "I'll redouble my efforts in training, Shizun. You'll see," he affirmed, his voice filled with determination and a hint of earnestness that belied his innocence.

As Xue Xinyu pushed back his chair, preparing to depart, a sudden eruption from his midsection interrupted the serene ambiance. His stomach, betraying him with a cacophonous growl that could rival the roars of mythical beasts, reverberated through the room like an echo from the depths of a cavern. Liang Zhiguan and Lǐ Tāo exchanged bemused glances, as if pondering whether Xue Xinyu's stomach harboured a hidden, ravenous entity.

"Perhaps a small repast would appease the hunger of your esteemed Shizun," Lǐ Tāo suggested with a good-natured chuckle, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. With the promptness of a knight heeding the call to arms against a formidable foe, Liang Zhiguan hastened to the kitchen. There, amidst clattering utensils and the sizzle of a hastily lit stove, he embarked on a culinary crusade to pacify Xue Xinyu's voracious appetite and, perhaps, earn his favour through the magic of well-prepared sustenance.

In the novel, Liang Zhiguan often cooked for Huai Xiaozhun, mainly because Huai Xiaozhun had a reputation as a culinary disaster zone. It was never explicitly stated why, but Huai Xiaozhun was renowned for his lack of cooking skills.

Known far and wide as a "stay-out-of-the-kitchen-or-face-certain-doom" type, Huai Xiaozhun—now reincarnated as Xue Xinyu—continued the tradition with gusto. 

In the annals of cooking history, Huai Xiaozhun's kitchen exploits were legendary for all the wrong reasons. If cooking were a martial art, he'd be the master of chaos and destruction, holding the prestigious title of "Grandmaster of Kitchen Catastrophes." 

And now, with Xue Xinyu inheriting his predecessor's lack of culinary finesse, it's like watching a sequel to a disaster movie - same plot, different protagonist, equally catastrophic outcomes.

Now sitting outside, Xue Xinyu lifted his chopsticks, savouring the rice that Liang Zhiguan had painstakingly prepared. As he ate, he watched Lǐ Tāo and Liang Zhiguan training in the courtyard below. Lǐ Tāo moved with practised ease, his instructions clear and precise. Liang Zhiguan, attentive and eager to learn, followed each movement with careful precision.

Xue Xinyu found himself reflecting on Lǐ Tāo's exceptional teaching abilities. It was peculiar that such a skilled teacher had no disciples of his own. His thoughts wandered as he continued to eat.

Just as he and Lǐ Tāo exchanged a few words, a sudden movement caught Xue Xinyu's attention. From the corner of his eye, he observed an object hurtling toward Liang Zhiguan's unsuspecting head, threatening to disrupt the tranquil ambiance of their afternoon.

With reflexes honed from countless battles—both literal and culinary—Xue Xinyu sprang into action, his chopsticks poised like a warrior's sword. In one swift motion, he intercepted the airborne projectile.

In an instant, Xue Xinyu catapulted from his seated tranquillity to a whirlwind of protective instincts, bounding over to Liang Zhiguan like a mother bear sensing danger. He gripped the young disciple's shoulders firmly, scanning him with an intensity that belied his typically composed demeanour. "Are you okay?" he blurted out, his voice a mixture of relief and lingering concern.

Liang Zhiguan, a tad bewildered but thankfully unscathed, blinked in confusion. "I'm fine, but, what just happened?" he asked, his voice tinged with bewilderment.

Meanwhile, inside Xue Xinyu's mind, chaos reigned supreme as he grappled with the mind-bending mystery of how he'd managed such a feat. How in the seven realms did I pull that off? he pondered, his inner monologue a whirlwind of disbelief and bewilderment.

Glancing down at the ground, Xue Xinyu's sharp eyes caught sight of three small needles, each one subtly coated with a sheen of poison. His brow furrowed in a mixture of concern and suspicion.

Stepping forward with deliberate caution, Xue Xinyu bent down to retrieve the needles, his mind racing with possibilities. Beyond the meticulously tended garden that surrounded his residence, a small cliff overlooked the premises, offering a strategic vantage point for covert activities. Peering over the edge, he found the area below eerily deserted, adding to the mystery.

The needles themselves bore no markings typical of the Qi Yun Sect's methods, raising further questions. This wasn't something he recalled from the novel either, at least not in this context. Had his mere arrival disrupted the carefully scripted narrative, or was this a forgotten subplot waiting to be uncovered?

Turning back to Liang Zhiguan and Lǐ Tāo, who stood at a respectful distance, Xue Xinyu's thoughts began to settle. "Zhiguan, could you bring me new chopsticks?" he requested calmly, masking the turmoil within with a composed exterior.

Lǐ Tāo leaned forward, his sharp eyes narrowing as he scrutinised the small, glinting needles that Xue Xinyu had carefully laid out on the table. "What type of needles are they?" he inquired, his voice carrying a note of concern tinged with suspicion.

"Three needles that were obviously tampered with," Xue Xinyu replied, his tone measured and analytical. "The tampering wasn't well done."

Lǐ Tāo's brow furrowed in concentration as he studied the needles, his fingers tracing the crude modifications. "Indeed, the craftsmanship is too rough to belong to any of the peaks," he remarked, shifting in his seat to get a closer look. "These are likely from one of the assassin clans."

The assassin clans were composed of individuals who, having been prohibited from becoming cultivators, sought alternative paths to power. Denied the formal routes of cultivation, they turned to the "dark side," forging alliances with the malevolent forces of Ende. 

These clans were shadowy organisations, often hired by various peaks to carry out illicit tasks, and many of their weapons were imbued with poisons reminiscent of the creatures from Ende.

"It could be one of them, though I see no reason for them to target Liang Zhiguan, considering they're affiliated with the so-called creatures from Ende," Xue Xinyu remarked. 

The creatures from Ende encompassed a wide range, from demons to ghosts to practitioners of demonic magic. This was why the assassin clans had little motive to attack Liang Zhiguan, who possessed heavenly demon blood.

As Liang Zhiguan returned outside, carrying a new pair of chopsticks with careful hands, Xue Xinyu resumed eating. Meanwhile, Lǐ Tāo meticulously examined Liang Zhiguan, ensuring there were no hidden injuries from the earlier attack. 

The rice Liang Zhiguan had prepared was delicious, a testament to his culinary skills, far surpassing the burnt food or hastily made ramen that Xue Xinyu, once Du Rui, was used to in his previous life.

Du Rui's former life was a far cry from luxury. Living on instant noodles and enduring a meagre lifestyle had been his norm. The transition to the life of a peak lord, surrounded by the tranquillity of Qi Yun Peak and the dedication of his disciple, was a stark and welcome contrast. He couldn't complain about this newfound comfort and responsibility.

Now all he had to do was change his fate and the fate of others.

As you would say, "Seize the pen of destiny and script a tale of triumph amidst tragedy."