Chapter 356

Zheng Weiqi clapped her hands with sudden enthusiasm.

“You don’t know this, but our master isn’t just a swordsmanship expert—he’s also amazing at making snow sculptures!”

Tian Xianzi gave a theatrical smile.

“It’s really not ‘amazing,’ just a small talent, that’s all.”

With that, he summoned his natal sword and cleared his throat with a serious air.

“I’m in a good mood today, so I’ll show you.”

Even the most carefree sword cultivator transforms completely the moment their blade is drawn.

Tian Xianzi’s sword movements were pure and sharp, exuding an overwhelming surge of spiritual energy that whipped up fierce gusts of wind.

Snowflakes danced wildly in the air before coalescing mid-flight into the form of a soaring dragon.

Suddenly, the dragon surged forward with breathtaking speed, leaving trails of dazzling white light in its wake.

The sword’s energy carved and sculpted the piled snow in an instant, creating lifelike shapes and contours.

Before long, rabbits, cats, and birds appeared, still and silent, scattered across the once-empty snowy landscape.

The formless, invisible sword energy streaked past Pei Ji’s ear, and without warning, a wisp of it paused, swirling above his head.

A round snowball fell from the treetop and landed squarely on Ning Ning’s head.

The young girl let out a soft “Ouch!” in surprise.

Her light, delicate voice seemed to tug at something in Pei Ji’s chest.

Suppressing a smile, he leaned in close and murmured, “Don’t move.”

Obediently, Ning Ning froze in place.

With her head slightly lowered, Pei Ji only needed to glance down to see the snow atop her hair.

The snowball wasn’t large, but it shattered on impact, breaking apart into smaller fragments.

Pei Ji gently brushed them off one by one, prompting Ning Ning to mumble, “It’s so cold.”

She watched his every move closely and noticed immediately when his hand suddenly paused.

“There’s… a slip of paper in this snowball,” he said, hesitating.

“A slip of paper?” Ning Ning lifted her head abruptly, causing loose snowflakes to tumble from her hair.

“What does it say?”

“It says…” Pei Ji’s brow furrowed as he lowered his head to read the elegant handwriting on the paper.

The words he was about to say caught in his throat.

The note hidden within the snowball read, in bold black characters: “Happy Birthday, Pei Ji.”

The flurry of falling snow seemed to still all at once.

His previously clear thoughts turned into a blank expanse, and the only thing that remained was the sound of his own heartbeat, pounding wildly in his chest.

Pei Ji looked up in a daze and met Ning Ning’s sparkling eyes.

The sunlight glinted off her long lashes, fragments of light dancing in her jet-black pupils.

The smile within them was so full it seemed on the verge of spilling out.

“Pei Ji,” she said, her lips curving into a grin, revealing two small dimples on her cheeks.

“Do you remember what today is?”

No one had ever celebrated his birthday before.

Pei Ji was at a complete loss.

“Oh my goodness, I don’t have to pretend anymore! Come, come, take a look at the gift I prepared for you!”

He Zhizhou burst out laughing, dramatically reaching into the belly of the snowman he’d built and tearing it open.

Inside was a deep black case he and Lin Xun had prepared.

Zheng Weiqi unsheathed her sword and sliced her own snowman clean in two, revealing a small but exquisitely crafted box.

Tian Xianzi twitched visibly, watching his two ‘corpses’ meet their untimely demise.

His heart ached.

“I still think my idea was the best,” Zheng Weiqi huffed.

“Just imagine—Pei Ji stepping out in the morning and seeing each of us holding a gift in person. How shocking would that be?”

“Junior brother Lin’s plan was pretty good too!”

He Zhi Zhou chimed in, patting the little white dragon on the shoulder.

“Carving birthday wishes into the snow? Romantic as hell.”

“You don’t understand—this is a sword cultivator’s flair,” Tian Xianzi interjected.

“Birthday wishes should be delivered through sword energy. Pei Ji, my dear disciple, come and look at what your master prepared for you: a thousand-year-old Yunshen Flower. It’ll be immensely beneficial for your cultivation.”

“And me, me, me!” He Zhi Zhou grinned.

“Lin Xun and I pooled our spirit stones to buy you an Ice Silkworm Garment. It’ll look great on you!”

The first three were sword-obsessed broke cultivators who had scraped together every last coin to afford their gifts.

Meng Jue, however, smiled warmly, demonstrating the effortless generosity of someone wealthy.

“Junior Brother Pei, I heard you’ve obtained the Cheng Ying Sword. I’ve already notified the Sword Forging Hall—this year, all your forging costs are on me.”

Zheng Weiqi chuckled slyly.

“Little junior brother, an exclusive copy. You know what I mean, right?”

“What exclusive copy?”

Tian Xianzi frowned in mock seriousness.

“Zheng Weiqi, as a senior disciple, you mustn’t corrupt your junior! Today is an exception, but if I ever catch you with something like that again, I’ll confiscate it all!”

Meng Jue nodded solemnly.

“Our master has been without a Tao companion for far too long—it’s time he got corrupted a little.”

Zheng Weiqi mused aloud, “Master, did you see how Xue Xiao had her heart’s blood taken by Sword Master Zhen Xiao?”

“What?!”

Tian Xianzi exclaimed in shock, his reaction instinctive.

“Wasn’t her heart’s blood supposed to be taken by Jiang Si, the Young Lord of Jialan?”

Oops…Exposed.

This was a plotline from Record Of Cultivation Romance, a book Zheng Weiqi had once snuck into class to read before Tian Xianzi confiscated it.

Of course, Tian Xianzi had ended up reading the entire thing himself, unable to put it down.

—This girl is just trying to trick him! Evil disciples, this bunch of evil disciples!

While they quarreled among themselves, the snowstorm that Tian Xianzi had stirred up gradually calmed.

Amid the fading noise, Pei Ji stood frozen, unsure of how to respond.

Should he express thanks?

Accept the gifts?

Or reciprocate with something even more valuable?

He had no idea what to do in such unfamiliar circumstances.

“Pei Xiaoji.”

The Cheng Ying Sword at his waist murmured softly.

“Are you alright?”

Its concern was genuine.

The word birthday was nothing short of a curse to Pei Ji.

Cheng Ying had been with him through his childhood, witnessing the fiery rage and manic fits of that woman. Every year on his birthday, her madness would peak, her fury boundless.

The insults and violence, those degrading, venomous words—Cheng Ying didn’t even want to recall them.

For this reason, every year around this time, Pei Ji would retreat into a deep melancholy.

Because of her, he had once believed, with unwavering conviction, that his very existence was an unwanted, irreversible mistake.