Oliver gritted his teeth as he sat in front of the mirror. He was a hundred and ten years old, but he had the body of a twentyish-year-old man. As a cultivator who was at the peak of foundation establishment, it was easy for him to alter his appearance. He thought women liked younger-looking men, so he kept his appearance as he looked like in his prime. However, who knew he had approached it the wrong way? The first princess, Azalea Frostwind, actually preferred older-looking men!

Oliver exhaled and relaxed his body while closing his eyes. When he opened them again, it seemed as if he had aged by twenty years. Wrinkles had appeared on his face, and his skin seemed looser. There was also a bit of a bulge on his belly. His hairline had receded by a few centimeters, and specks of gray appeared in the hair near his temples. The person in the mirror seemed like a stranger, but if that was the princess’ type, then that’s who he’d become. He touched his face a few times, getting used the strange sensation.

Afterwards, he donned his armor and struck a few poses, copying the arrogant man from yesterday. Just thinking about yesterday raised Oliver’s blood pressure. He had signed up for the wine-brewing contest, purchased one of the contestant’s wine, and presented it as his own. It had received a higher-than-average rating, but it didn’t matter. The first princess hadn’t even paid him a single glance. He knew because he was staring at her the whole time, and during the competition, her eyes were only looking at the arrogant man sitting beside him. What was there to even see? The man had cultivated the entire time!

Oliver snorted and grabbed his spear. He strapped it to his back and left his house. As the son of a general, he was favored in the army and had advanced to a commanding position within the capital’s guards. There hadn’t been a war in a long time, so advancements happened quite slowly. Sometimes, he wished a war would break out to prove himself in battle. He’d rack up merits, and eventually, the emperor would notice him, perhaps the emperor would even offer the first princess’ hand in marriage. Of course, those were just delusions. There wasn’t anyone in the secular world crazy enough to declare war on the Frostwind Empire.

Luckily, there was still a way for Oliver to prove himself. All he had to do was duel the arrogant man and defeat him in front of the first princess. In fact, he already had the perfect plan. He would be as helpful as possible and hover around the arrogant man. Eventually, he’d be slighted, and after a few rounds of drinks at the bar, he’d tell his coworkers about the situation. They’d sympathize with him, and he’d convince them to ask him to duel the arrogant man. With that, he’d have the support of the people who weren’t fond of the sects. Not only would he defeat the arrogant man in front of the princess, but he’d also gain fame in the process! The secular guard captain who defeated the once-in-a-lifetime genius of the Moon Lotus Sect, he could brag about that achievement for years.

Oliver hummed to himself as he entered the patrol building. All he had to do was pick assignments related to the first princess or the arrogant man; as someone in a leadership position, he could easily shift people’s schedules around. However, there weren’t any assignments related to the first princess, which he found odd. Royalty needed escorts, and those jobs were given to the patrol members. “Did someone see any assignments related to the winner of the wine-brewing competition?”

“Oh, I heard he’s returning to the Moon Lotus Sect with the first princess.”

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Oliver’s face froze. But, but his plan! Why was the arrogant man leaving so soon? Didn’t the emperor put him in charge of the gardens and vineyards?

***

“The sect is still a better place to cultivate,” Grandpa Vremya said. He was sitting on top of a crane with Azalea sitting beside him. “If I used your empire’s cultivation rooms for free, I’d be sowing too much karma.”

Azalea sighed, giving up on trying to convince Grandpa Vremya to stay in the capital. She should’ve given up an hour ago when they had first boarded the crane, but she thought she could change his mind. In the end, she couldn’t outreason him. Thus, she had to come up with a different way to spend time with him. “When you go back to the sect, do you still intend to learn about formations?”

Grandpa Vremya nodded. Unfortunately, there wasn’t that much space in a baby river spirit’s brain. His godly self could only fit so much inside: a cultivation technique, some wine-brewing techniques, golem-creation skills, some memories involving common sense, the roadmap to becoming an avatar. With that, his mind was pretty much filled to the brim. However, now that he was older and a cultivator, he could remember more things and quite easily at that. Learning how formations worked would be quite useful for him in the future.

“Should I teach you?” Azalea asked, her eyes lighting up. “I’ve been studying formations for the past few decades, and I’ve already become proficient in eighty percent of the basic ones.”

Grandpa Vremya opened one eye and glanced at Azalea without turning his head. He closed his eye. “Well, that’ll depend on how good of a teacher you are.” If she could teach him faster than he could learn from books, then he’d gladly accept her teachings. Besides, he had already sown karma with her, and it was much easier to pay back one person karmically than to pay back a whole bunch of different people. Thinking about it, Azalea had helped him out a bunch. If it weren’t for her bravery, perhaps he wouldn’t have won that wine-brewing competition. “Thanks.”

Azalea froze and toppled over backwards, nearly falling off the crane. She gasped and climbed back up, staring at Grandpa Vremya with wide eyes. “What did you just say?” she asked and pulled out a video recorder. “Can you wait a moment before saying it again?”

Grandpa Vremya opened his eyes and frowned. “What are you going on about?”

“In the century that I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you thank me before,” Azalea said and held the recorder up to Grandpa Vremya’s face. “Even though I’ve done so much for you.” She pursed her lips. “I still can’t believe you let me do all your chores for you for five whole years.”

Grandpa Vremya rolled his eyes. “You’ve broken through to a higher stage thanks to my wine,” he said. “I think that more than makes up for the time you’ve lost doing chores.”

“Not everything has to be a transaction, okay?” Azalea asked and put away the video recorder. Clearly, she wasn’t going to get another word of thanks. Maybe it’d happen in another hundred years or so.

“Everything is a transaction,” Grandpa Vremya said and snorted.

“Yeah?” Azalea asked, raising an eyebrow while leaning closer to Grandpa Vremya. At lightning speed, she punched Grandpa Vremya’s shoulder, causing him to flinch and clutch his arm. “What kind of transaction occurred there, huh?”

Grandpa Vremya scowled and rubbed his shoulder. “An unpleasant one,” he said. “Your fist transferred some energy into my arm.”

Azalea snorted. “Blockhead.”

“How am I the blockhead?” Grandpa Vremya asked. “I was right. If you don’t think that’s right, then tell me, what’s your explanation?”

“Blockhead,” Azalea said again and turned away, staring off the side of the crane. There wasn’t much to see because they were flying over a layer of clouds.

Grandpa Vremya sighed and shook his head before closing his eyes. The thoughts of lower lifeforms were too annoying to navigate. Cultivation was much simpler and more straightforward.