Senior Brother's Undercover Diary

The moment the Ice Soul Sword was drawn, its cold light sliced through the falling snowflakes, precisely cutting them into symmetrical geometric shapes. Jiang Zhelie stood on the peak of the Cold Cliff, facing the wind, dressed in white like snow, his hair slightly lifted, his handsome and cold face resembling an immortal detached from the mortal world against the backdrop of ice and snow.

At the foot of the mountain, several passing outer disciples saw this from afar, their faces flushed with excitement, whispering in admiration: “Senior Brother is truly a model for us! In such bitter cold, he still contemplates the supreme sword intent. His ethereal temperament and resolute back are truly the backbone of our Tai Xuan Heavenly Sect!”

However, at that moment, Jiang Zhelie, standing in the wind and snow as if lost in thought, had only one thought in his mind: “Who designed this shabby white robe the sect issues? It looks nice, but damn, it’s not stain-resistant! The mud splatters from yesterday’s sword practice haven’t even washed off. And this northwest wind on Cold Cliff is giving me a migraine. If I don’t pack it in soon, this aloof senior brother’s nose will start running.”

Expressionless, Jiang Zhelie twirled his sword in a flourish, the Ice Soul Sword emitting a pleasant hum before obediently returning to its sheath. He turned around and, with graceful, slow steps—each one as if measured by a ruler—walked in his “senior brother’s signature gait” back to his study, under the adoring gaze of the outer disciples.

Once inside, Jiang Zhelie slammed the door shut with lightning speed, cast a soundproof barrier and defensive结界, then collapsed into a chair, rubbing his frozen facial muscles without any dignity.

“Playing aloof is such hard work. If I keep a straight face every day, I’ll end up with facial paralysis sooner or later,” he muttered.

As he grumbled, he walked to the bookshelf, tapped behind the third shelf where a fake book titled “Three Thousand Questions on the Tai Xuan Scripture” was placed. With a clear sound of gears, a secret compartment opened, revealing a black diary made of special Nine Nether Sheepskin.

Picking up a wolf-hair brush and dipping it in specially made spirit-eliminating ink, Jiang Zhelie opened a new page and began his daily decompression time:

“Year 11 of infiltration, June 20. Heavy snow. Today the cafeteria served stir-fried lingzhi and cold-pressed Bigu Pills. Do these cultivation-crazed fools even know what good food is? Who eats Bigu Pills cold? They taste like chewing dry cement! I once again sincerely miss the grilled soul beast meat from the Demon Realm. Also, those outer disciples camp at the cliff every day, forcing me to stand in the snow for half an hour to maintain my ‘sword fanatic’ persona. If it weren’t for fear of blowing my cover, I would send them to clean up with one sword strike. The Demon Palace has been three months late on my salary. Does the old palace lord even remember I’m undercover in the righteous path? Not only do I have no money, but I don’t even get holiday benefits. I want to file a labor arbitration…”

“Senior Brother! Are you there? Xiaojiu brought you a warm soup!”

A sudden crisp shout accompanied by urgent knocking echoed in the courtyard.

Jiang Zhelie’s wrist jerked sharply, the brush tip drawing a thick black arc across the sheepskin, turning “labor arbitration” into an ink blot.

“Damn!”

Jiang Zhelie cursed in Demon Realm slang. The soundproof barrier hadn’t blocked Lu Xiaojiu’s piercing voice!

He scrambled to stuff the diary into his bosom, but in his haste, he misaligned it, and the hard leather corner jabbed him in the ribs, making him gasp. Seeing Lu Xiaojiu starting to push the door with her spiritual power, Jiang Zhelie, in desperation, sat directly on the diary and waved his hand to dispel the barrier. He grabbed a cup of cold tea and instantly resumed his aloof, immortal persona.

“Enter,” he said coldly, his expression as calm as a stone statue without emotion.

The door opened, and the lively, adorable Lu Xiaojiu bounced in carrying a food box, complaining immediately, “Senior Brother, why did you set up a barrier again? I thought you were going into devil cultivation.”

Jiang Zhelie took a gentle sip of the cold tea, his expression composed, though the thick sheepskin diary beneath him was painfully uncomfortable. Still, he maintained an upright and elegant posture: “I was studying sword intent and don’t like to be disturbed. Xiaojiu, a cultivator should be steady. Shouting like that is improper.”

“I know, Senior Brother!” Lu Xiaojiu giggled, obviously immune to his nagging. She opened the food box and brought out a bowl of steaming red-brown soup, “Try this quickly. It’s the new Eight Treasure Ginseng Soup from the Hundred Herbs Peak. Very nourishing!”

Jiang Zhelie looked at the soup and twitched his lips imperceptibly. Eight Treasure Ginseng Soup? The eight-treasure congee of the cultivation world?

But to maintain his persona, he had to pick it up and take a sip with extremely elegant, slow, and measured movements. He said indifferently, “It’s passable. Don’t waste your cultivation time on such trivial matters in the future.”

“Actually, it’s disgustingly sweet. Did this girl smash the sugar jar at Hundred Herbs Peak? But it is indeed warm,” Jiang Zhelie thought.

“Hehe, I’m glad you like it, Senior Brother.” Lu Xiaojiu cupped her face in her hands, gazing at him adoringly, then slapped her forehead, “Oh! The sect leader just came out of seclusion and ordered all core disciples to the main hall for a meeting. Senior Brother, you should go quickly. I heard it’s about the early opening of the Tianmen Mountain Secret Realm and a mission assignment. The sect leader specifically named you to lead the team.”

Jiang Zhelie sighed inwardly. Tianmen Mountain Secret Realm? That place is extremely unstable; entering it is a death sentence. As soon as the old man comes out of seclusion, he throws the most dangerous task at me, calling it “trust.” Isn’t this just the corporate culture of painting pies in righteous sects?

“I understand. You go ahead. I’ll be there shortly,” Jiang Zhelie nodded calmly.

“Okay, Senior Brother! Drink slowly; I’ll go grab seats at the main hall!” Lu Xiaojiu packed up the food box and rushed out like a gust of wind.

As soon as the courtyard gate closed, Jiang Zhelie slumped like a deflated balloon. He quickly pulled the poor diary from under him, rubbed the sore spot on his ribs, and sighed, “At this rate, I’ll die from hemorrhoids caused by this diary before the righteous sect kills me.”

He hid the diary and changed into a fresh white robe—though washing clothes was painful, the senior brother’s image must be maintained.

A moment later, Jiang Zhelie transformed into a graceful streak of white light and landed in front of the Tai Xuan Main Hall.

The hall was already packed with disciples. Seeing him arrive, the disciples on both sides automatically made way, bowing respectfully: “Senior Brother!”

Expressionless, Jiang Zhelie walked through the crowd to the front.

On the dragon-headed throne, Sect Leader Xuan Guang Zhenzun stroked his silver beard, his immortal aura radiating kindness as he looked at Jiang Zhelie: “Zhelie, the Tianmen Mountain Secret Realm is about to open. This mission is fraught with danger, but also an excellent opportunity for training. I have decided that you will lead the team, taking your junior brothers and sisters to seize the supreme treasure ‘Tianji Disk.’ What do you think, Zhelie?”

Jiang Zhelie rolled his eyes inwardly: “What choice do I have? If I say I don’t want to go, will you deduct my core disciple housing fund tomorrow under the pretext of insufficient ideological awareness?”

But on the surface, Jiang Zhelie clasped his fists and performed an impeccable bow, his voice cold and resolute: “Disciple is willing to go through fire and water for the sect. If we encounter demonic cultivators, I will definitely slay them without mercy.”

“Excellent! Worthy of my senior disciple—high awareness!” Xuan Guang Zhenzun laughed heartily and started clapping. Immediately, the hall erupted in warm applause, like an award ceremony at Tai Xuan Heavenly Sect.

Jiang Zhelie retreated woodenly. Once back in his Cold Cliff study, he angrily loosened his collar.

But before he could rest, the bizarre bronze lion on his desk suddenly spat out a blood-stained jade slip.

Jiang Zhelie’s eyes narrowed. He quickly set up multiple barriers and scanned the jade slip with his divine sense.

Inside came the sinister voice of the new manager of the Demon Palace: “Jiang Zhelie, once the secret realm opens, Demon Palace Protector Xie Qingyun will also lead a team. You must cooperate with him to seize the Tianji Disk, and before departure, send a diagram of the righteous path’s defense lines. If you disobey, the soul-devouring poison worms will be waiting.”

Holding the jade slip, Jiang Zhelie took a deep breath and finally broke into a curse: “Cooperate with Xie Qingyun? That guy is a known madman! And a defense deployment map? I spend my days practicing sword and writing diaries. I don’t even have the key to the second floor of the sect’s scripture library. Where am I supposed to get a deployment map? Should I draw a tourist map of Tai Xuan Peak for him?”

He laughed in anger. The Demon Palace’s KPI assessment was even more unreasonable than the righteous path’s.

“Rustle…”

From outside the window came a faint sound of snow shifting.

Jiang Zhelie’s rant stopped abruptly. Like a vigilant cat, he instantly moved to the window, peeking through a gap in his fingers.

In the moonlight, under the shadow of an ancient pine on Cold Cliff, a dark figure was crouching suspiciously, holding a small notebook as if recording something.

While recording, the figure mumbled, “After Senior Brother Jiang returned to his room, the lights flickered three times, suggesting some secret plotting. I’ll record this and report to the sect leader…”

A vein bulged on Jiang Zhelie’s forehead.

Great. Old man Xuan Guang has even sent a spy, recording every time he blows out a candle.

He took a deep breath, returned to his desk, and wrote in the sheepskin diary:

“Year 11 of infiltration, June 20. Late night. Today I received an overtime secret order from the Demon Palace, and I also discovered a paparazzi sent by the righteous path outside my window. My current workplace situation is like one foot on a landmine and the other hanging off a cliff, and my only colleague, Xie Qingyun, is a madman rumored to eat righteous cultivators raw. Once inside the secret realm, I will definitely find a way to bury this guy outside in a snowdrift…”

Jiang Zhelie closed the diary coldly and blew out the lamp. Outside, the monitor, shivering with a runny nose, continued his difficult stakeout in the snow.