Someone Always Wants To Corrupt My Disciple

Perhaps it was because the phrase “lost formations” sounded too tempting, but even after the strict screening by the Heavenly Master Hall, the final number of attendees still reached four hundred and twenty-one.

When the Hall sent over the payment of forty-two thousand one hundred taels of gold, Yun Jiao’s first ever long-distance formation seminar officially began.

Since most participants were sect leaders, elders, or at the very least elite disciples, she skipped all the elementary lessons and dove straight into the good stuff—explaining high-level formation blueprints, placement logic, elemental interactions, suppression techniques, and all the subtle details that usually took decades to comprehend.

Even though word of Yun Jiao summoning the Grandmaster and subduing the Evil God in Four Seasons Village had spread throughout the cultivation world, most people still doubted her. A twenty-something junior claiming to master every lost formation? Impossible. Formations required years of deduction and trial. Any real formation master was at least a white-bearded scholar with a lifetime of study behind him.

Yet Yun Jiao had boldly promised to teach them every single one from the list—over a hundred of them, many that even the elders only vaguely remembered by name. Her confidence sounded outrageous.

So most people joined with low expectations—even if she can’t really teach them, maybe we can at least reconstruct a few patterns from her diagrams.

But then came the first class.

And all those doubts were flattened—smack, smack, smack.

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