Chapter 17: For Real? I’m In!

After crying for a while, exhaustion naturally took over.

Before long, He Yingying closed her eyes and drifted into sleep.

Her face, relaxed in slumber, wore a soft, contented smile—who knew what she was dreaming about?

Lin Wuming glanced helplessly at the tears and snot still staining his shoulder, changed into clean clothes, and sat down on a chair to rest.

His junior sister’s knee injuries were the easiest part to treat.

The real challenges ahead were her eyes and meridians.

Especially the meridians—not only would it require some foundation in the Qi Condensation realm to manipulate and control large quantities of spiritual energy, but also a considerable number of herbs and spirit stones.

In plain terms: it would cost money.

Her eyes, too.

Based on Lin Wuming’s assessment, they’d been afflicted with some kind of rare and potent poison.

Not only had it taken her sight, but also left her with frequent bouts of itching and pain—a torment in itself.

He had a cure in mind, of course—but…

Same issue: rare poisons need rare antidotes.

And rare things?

They’re expensive.

And right now, he was dead broke.

Time to go find work.

Lin Wuming wasn’t particularly worried about earning money.

He was just considering the fastest and least time-wasting way to do it.

After weighing his options, performing arts seemed like a solid choice.

No—wait! Don’t call it performing for money!

It’s promoting the sect’s musical heritage through professional performance.

It sounded classy, okay?

Plus, this was a great excuse to start teaching his junior sister the zither.

As for where to find work, Lin Wuming already had a place in mind.

Over the past decade or so—unable to cultivate—he’d spent plenty of time wandering around Luoshui City.

He knew all the taverns, tea houses, and marketplaces like the back of his hand.

There was a high-end teahouse in the eastern part of the city that often hired musicians to play live.

A quiet, elegant environment—perfect for incense and music.

But there was no need to rush things.

He’d wait until his junior sister could move a bit more freely, then bring her along.

To his surprise, He Yingying’s recovery outpaced his expectations.

In just three to four days, she was already able to get out of bed and walk.

Her meridians hadn’t recovered yet, so movement was still awkward and limited.

But if they waited any longer, they really would be out of money—even food would become a problem.

So early that morning, Lin Wuming supported her as they made their way to the eastern teahouse.

Even at that early hour, business was already booming.

Refined guests sipped fragrant teas in peaceful corners—quite a contrast to the noisy taverns elsewhere.

“Ah, Master Lin! You’re here.”

Over the past few days, while He Yingying was still bedridden, Lin Wuming had already come to this teahouse and discussed the schedule and compensation with the manager.

In the Canglan Continent, most people valued martial strength—very few bothered to cultivate true musical skill.

So Lin Wuming’s “application” had gone quite smoothly.

On the upper floor, Lin Wuming placed his seven-string guqin on its stand.

He gestured for He Yingying to sit nearby, then took a breath and gently plucked the strings.

The first notes resonated softly throughout the teahouse, breaking the morning calm.

The sound of the guqin was ethereal—like water gently flowing.

His fingers danced gracefully, producing a sustained and melodious resonance.

Soon, all eyes in the teahouse turned toward the source of the music.

Teahouse music wasn’t uncommon.

But whether it was zither, flute, or pipa—nothing they’d heard before carried this kind of spirit.

The music continued, now flowing like drifting clouds in the heavens—graceful and unhurried.

The performer’s expression was serene, his eyes half-closed, fully immersed in his playing.

He Yingying, seated closest to him, was completely entranced.

It was the same tune he’d played that night—but now it sounded completely different.

Music has a soul, and it resonates with those who understand.

A good piece of music tells a story—one that draws the listener into its world.

“Miss, is that really him?!”

This gentle atmosphere, however, couldn’t remain flawless.

Liu Yingfeng gave her maid an annoyed look, clearly displeased but too refined to scold.

Ling’er knew she’d blurted something she shouldn’t have.

She stuck out her tongue and kept quiet.

When the final note faded, silence lingered in the teahouse.

No one moved.

Eyes remained closed as if still dwelling within the dreamlike melody.

“I didn’t expect that guy to be able to play zither…”

Ling’er looked at Lin Wuming upstairs, surprised.

“And… Miss, don’t you think he seems… different than a few days ago?”

Liu Yingfeng said nothing, her brows slightly furrowed.

She had noticed it too—but it was hard to pinpoint exactly what had changed.

Normally, when someone breaks through Foundation Establishment, their body gains a certain spiritual presence.

You can tell they’re nearing the Qi Condensation realm.

But Lin Wuming was different.

Cut off from the world’s spiritual energy, nothing entered his body.

Aside from a shift in demeanor, there were no outward signs that set him apart from a regular person.

Liu Yingfeng studied him a little longer, saw nothing conclusive, and let it go.

She sipped her now slightly cooled tea.

Before another tune could begin, she rose to her feet and left the teahouse.

“Let’s go, Ling’er. We’ve wasted enough time the past few days—it’s time to handle our business.”

“Wait for me, Miss! I’m coming—!”

Ling’er gulped down the rest of her tea, tossed a few coins on the table, and rushed to follow.

Lin Wuming didn’t pay them much attention.

That veiled woman in white seemed a little mysterious, sure, but her maid… didn’t seem all that bright.

He shook his head, not thinking too much about it.

He was, after all, on the clock.

His fingers returned to the strings, and another beautiful piece flowed out, immersing the guests once more.

This time, while playing, Lin Wuming quietly explained a few music principles to He Yingying, gradually introducing her to the sect’s musical teachings.

That entire morning, the guests lingered longer than usual.

Some ordered a hot tea, and when they finally left hours later, the cup was still full and cold—every time they lifted it, the music pulled them back, their minds drifting off as they closed their eyes in reverie.

“Master Lin’s guqin skill is truly remarkable…”

Around noon, the teahouse manager couldn’t help but sigh in admiration.

He insisted on giving Lin Wuming a generous bonus.

Then, as if remembering something, he added….

“By the way, Master Lin, have you heard about the ‘Ten Thousand Sounds Festival’ being hosted by the City Lord?”

“Oh? Ten Thousand Sounds Festival?”

Lin Wuming raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, apparently the City Lord was struck by inspiration and decided to host a grand musical gathering, inviting musicians from across the ten cities of the southeastern region. It’s meant to be a cultural exchange and showcase of talent…”

“I see.”

Lin Wuming shrugged indifferently.

His senior sister once said…..

“There’s no need to compare your music to others. In this world, aside from me, no one else can even compete.”

Lin Wuming had always thought she was bragging.

But he was never really interested in such things anyway—especially if there wasn’t anything to gain.

A pointless competition?

You couldn’t pay him to show up.

“The City Lord also said… whoever takes first place will receive three mid-grade spirit stones as a reward.”

“…FOR REAL? I’M IN!”