The Heaven-Splitting Thunder Sect was buzzing again.
Word had spread that a musical cultivator from the prestigious Celestial Echo Pavilion had arrived. A traveling prodigy, famous for playing the seven-string zither with such grace, it could calm spirit beasts, soothe injured meridians, and even dispel minor illusions.
His name?
Gong Yuchen, also known as Young Master Soundcloud.
Yes, Yunfan made that nickname up on the spot.
The sect elders welcomed him politely. The disciples swooned. His white robes shimmered. His fingers never left his pristine spiritual zither.
Then he opened his perfect little mouth.
"I heard your sect has a… musical cultivator," Gong Yuchen said, eyes narrowed. "I'm here to see whether that's a joke, a rumor, or just a local myth."
Jiang Yunfan, sitting upside-down on a tree branch with his cracked zither in his lap, raised a hand.
"Oh! That's me. Cultivation joke, musical myth, local menace. Take your pick."
Gong Yuchen blinked. "You?"
Yunfan flipped down from the branch, landing with exaggerated grace. "Me."
"You're holding your zither upside down."
"I'm holding reality upside down."
They gathered at the training platform beneath Thunder Peak. A crowd formed quickly disciples from every corner, whispers flying.
"Is he really going to duel Gong Yuchen with that thing?"
"He hasn't even replaced the broken string!"
"Shh! He's adjusting his hair!"
Indeed, Yunfan tied his hair up with a zither string.
Gong Yuchen sat cross-legged with the poise of an immortal statue. His zither glowed softly, spiritual runes etched in gold across its lacquered body. Each note he plucked shimmered in the air.
The sect quieted as he played his opening piece Soothing Wind Beneath Moonlight.
It was beautiful. Soft. Elegant.
Yunfan applauded mid-performance. "Nice. My turn."
He sat, crossed his legs, cracked his neck, and slammed his fingers onto his busted zither with a chaotic screech of sound and thunder.
The string vibrated like a struck beast. Lightning arced into the air. Wind whipped outward.
People covered their ears.
Gong Yuchen flinched. "What are you doing?! That's not music!"
"Oh, it is," Yunfan grinned. "It's called Laughter on the Way to the Afterlife."
He played again. This time, controlled.
Each pluck sent a pulse of Sword Qi through the air. The tone was offbeat, wild, unstructured, but deadly. It crackled like thunder, and the sound pressure cracked the tiles under him.
Gong Yuchen responded with a harmony piece Resonant Lotus Bloom.
It formed a defensive rhythm shield in the air, deflecting spiritual projectiles.
Yunfan tilted his head. "Neat. But can you block a joke?"
He struck a sharp, chaotic chord Sword Qi surged, splitting the air in zigzags and layered it with a vocal laugh that shook the formation beneath the platform.
"HAH, you're slow!"
The rhythm buckled.
Yuchen's shield cracked.
A strand of lightning-threaded Sword Qi zipped past him and shaved a clean line through his sleeve.
The crowd gasped.
Yunfan played another chord, humming with it, adding lyrics:
"Young master plays, young master sings,Yet still gets slapped by a zither with broken strings."
Yuchen turned red.
"I...I was not prepared for... "
"Don't worry," Yunfan said, still strumming. "Neither was your shirt."
Yuchen fled mid-duel, robes scorched and rhythm broken.
The crowd?
Dead silent.
Then someone snorted.
Then laughed.
Then it erupted.
That night, Yunfan returned to his cliff. His zither hummed with satisfaction beside him.
He sat down to meditate beneath the storm.
Eyes closed. Spine straight. Lightning descended like threads of silk, threading through his bones, vibrating in tune with his inner rhythm.