Daoist Yuyang was slightly puzzled when he saw Chu Xingchen pull out two tokens with a flick of his hand.
One appeared rather ordinary in craftsmanship, inscribed with the characters "Xuanwu"—resembling a token from a mortal dynasty.
After a moment of recollection, Daoist Yuyang couldn’t recall any dynasty in the Central Plains associated with Xuanwu.
It was likely from some obscure, nameless backwater kingdom.
The other token, however, was far more renowned—the Tianyan Token of the Tianyan Sect.
After brief contemplation, Daoist Yuyang understood what Chu Xingchen meant by a "token to grant face."
Suppressing a smile, he mused that while Chu Xingchen’s words were often infuriating, they could also be oddly amusing.
Even serious matters were phrased in peculiar ways, cutting straight to the point yet never lacking humor.
That said, granting a Taidao Token of equal standing to the Tianyan Token was something Daoist Yuyang could manage—after all, barring unforeseen circumstances, he was the next in line to lead the Taidao Sect.
But this wasn’t just about granting face.
Even Li Xingtian had once leveraged a Tianyan Token given by Bai Xuanling to mobilize a squad of Tianyan Sect’s Nascent Soul cultivators.
Daoist Yuyang transmitted his reply: "You can obtain a Tianyan Token, but I can’t just hand out a Taidao Token."
Chu Xingchen’s expression turned inscrutable, his gaze flickering with suspicion as he studied Daoist Yuyang—was this kid getting ahead of himself?
What if Li Junzi truly became a Demi-Sage one day?
While Confucian cultivators were often dismissed by orthodox practitioners, a Demi-Sage was an entirely different matter.
Such a figure was a walking calamity of karma, bearing the weight of human destiny itself.
In future battles, simply standing on their side—without uttering a word—would radiate an aura of righteousness so overwhelming it could shake the heavens.
An unshakable claim to moral high ground.
Admittedly, Li Junzi was still far from reaching Demi-Sage status, and whether he ever would remained uncertain.
But in Chu Xingchen’s eyes, if Li Junzi could truly grasp the essence of his path, the possibility existed.
Pity that Daoist Yuyang, still young, was fixated solely on immortal cultivation, blind to the timeless truth that virtue wins hearts.
"Who wants your Taidao Token?" Chu Xingchen continued via transmission. "I’ve kept a low profile in recent years, so few recognize me. Handing out my token would only confuse people."
"Unlike you, Daoist Yuyang, whose reputation for unmatched prowess in your realm precedes you. Just give me something intimidating enough to scare people off. For serious matters, I’ll use the Tianyan Token."
Without hesitation, Daoist Yuyang produced a pale jade plaque engraved with the characters "Yu Yang."
This token served no concrete purpose—it was essentially his personal calling card.
He occasionally gave them to those he deemed worthy, allowing the bearer to visit him at the Taidao Sect for conversation.
Without it, gaining entry to the sect’s mountain was virtually impossible for outsiders.
Even delivering a message required sufficient cultivation—no Taidao disciple would relay a summons from some random Foundation Establishment brat demanding Daoist Yuyang’s audience.
Beyond that, the token couldn’t buy favors or command obedience.
But given Daoist Yuyang’s prestige, carrying it generally deterred unnecessary trouble.
Chu Xingchen turned the jade plaque over in his hand, admiring its craftsmanship. The tokens of the Eighteen Immortal Sects certainly carried weight—even a name card looked valuable.
Once he made a name for himself in the Central Plains, he’d have to mint his own.
A personal "face-granting" token was long overdue.
Wanhua Ridge.
Li Yingling remained seated in the central tent, her brows slightly furrowed as she calculated something with her brush. Suddenly, she turned to Zhang Miaoyu, who was tidying up nearby, and asked,
"Has Master replied from the Mysterious Purity Heavenly Sect yet?"
Zhang Miaoyu swept her spiritual sense over the pile of letters before her and quickly answered,
"Captain, there’s nothing from them..."
Li Yingling let out a soft sigh and then inquired, "Any news from Gentleman Mountain?"
Zhang Miaoyu silently glanced through the letters again before lowering her voice to reply,
"There’s one delivered by a golden magpie’s wing—it arrived today."
As she spoke, she handed the letter to Li Yingling.
Li Yingling opened the envelope, her eyes scanning the contents before she exhaled in relief. Unable to hold back, she grumbled,
"Master is really something—running off like that without even sending word to ease my worries. Just dumping the entire sect on me while enjoying the carefree life of an absentee leader."
From outside the tent, a voice all too familiar to Li Yingling chimed in,
"Well, who else could I trust but my capable and diligent head disciple?"
Li Yingling immediately looked up toward the entrance.
There stood Chu Xingchen, leading a group of disciples, among them an unfamiliar young man whose aura was remarkably steady—clearly a master of some caliber.
Likely not a new disciple but a friend Master had picked up somewhere.
As Chu Xingchen approached with an amused stride, the sternness on Li Yingling’s face softened. Her tone, which had been calm and detached for months, now carried a hint of playful petulance:
"That still doesn’t justify exploiting your disciple."
Chu Xingchen nodded knowingly before deftly retrieving a few exquisitely crafted trinkets from his spatial ring—delicate jade hairpins, dainty jewelry, and elegant earrings.
Though shrewd in many ways, Li Yingling, like any woman, had a fondness for beauty. Her quarters boasted three dedicated wardrobes, all filled with clothes.
Yet, while she loved buying garments, she preferred affordable mortal-made pieces over the extravagant robes favored by cultivators.
Perhaps it was her way of sparing her master the trouble of earning spirit stones.
A true embodiment of "spend wisely, indulge wisely."
If unsure what to gift Li Yingling, these lovely little ornaments were always a safe bet.
This time, Chu Xingchen didn’t hold back—having come into some wealth recently, he’d splurged on high-quality items from the Elegant Immortal Pavilion.
Genuine top-tier cultivator’s wares.
Take the jade hairpin, for instance. Not only was it exquisitely carved, but it also contained infused spiritual energy and even a touch of celestial artistry—under moonlight, it would shimmer faintly in harmony with a corresponding star.
Chu Xingchen had tested it himself. The effect was indeed like scattered fireflies, not some garish headlamp glow, and it truly mirrored a specific star in the sky.
It even offered some protection against illusions.
He had to admit—it was breathtakingly beautiful.
But it was also a bit of a rip-off—absurdly expensive.
Still, considering how tirelessly his head disciple had been working, Chu Xingchen gritted his teeth and bought it.
A small investment for future absconding privileges.
On another note, Daoist Yuyang’s reputation worked wonders—just showing his face earned them a 20% discount.
Next time he shopped at a high-end store, he’d drag Daoist Yuyang along again.
With a stern expression, Chu Xingchen waved the items in his hand and raised a brow, asking,
"Exploitation?"
Li Yingling's gaze fell upon the jade hairpin in Chu Xingchen's hand, and her expression instantly softened.
"Master must have misheard. Doesn't everything within and outside the sect rely on your tireless efforts? I merely did what little I could."
Chen Baiqing followed closely behind her master, a faint smile playing on her lips as she cast a leisurely glance at Chu Xingchen.
Truly, no one compares to Master.
Cui Hao, too, rubbed his eyes in disbelief.