“Master, please take a look at this.” Yan Xu stood in the vast, dark hall, unrolling four scrolls and laying them side by side on the floor. “These detailed records document the wives, concubines, and offspring of past sect leaders. They’re rarely consulted.” The small old man sheepishly admitted, “I’ve been lazy and haven’t read them either.”
Mu Qing’yan replied, “Like you, I’ve only reviewed the main historical records of our sect. I’ve never inclined to pry into the romantic affairs or domestic matters of past leaders.”
Wiping sweat from his brow, Yan Xu continued, “That’s where the peculiarity lies. While the main records only mention the power struggle among Mu Song’s sons-in-law after his death, these detailed scrolls reveal he had an eldest son who died young.”
The four slightly yellowed silk scrolls stood out like stark white ribbons against the iron floor. Mu Qing’yan stood quietly nearby, examining them closely.
“Master, notice how these three scrolls are roughly the same length when fully unrolled,” Yan Xu pointed to the first three white ribbons. “But this one,” he indicated the fourth, “is over ten feet shorter.” He lifted the middle section of the fourth scroll. “This part records events just before Mu Song’s death, and someone has removed a portion of its content.”
Excitement colored the old man’s face as he explained, “They were quite clever. They cut appear as if it had been burned, then reattached new silk to hide the fact that they didn’t want anyone to know about Mu Song’s eldest son.”
“The more they try to conceal it, the more Nie Hengcheng wants to know,” Mu Qing’yan observed.
“Precisely, Master,” Yan Xu agreed. He then produced several books from nearby. “The scribes tasked with recording our sect’s history often jotted down events in personal notebooks before carefully transcribing them into official records. The scribe who documented this period was a woman named Qu Linglong.”
Mu Qing’yan’s surprise was evident. “A woman?”
“Yes, a female elder with profound cultivation,” Yan Xu explained. “Her descendants now manage a storehouse in a remote mountain area. When I inquired, they said Nie Hengcheng had also requested Elder Qu’s notebooks twenty years ago and took one with him.”
Yan Xu spread out about ten books, leaving a gap in the middle. “These all record events from Mu Song’s life and after his death. The one Nie Hengcheng took was about his eldest son!” The old man’s face was full of confusion. “What could have happened to Mu Song’s eldest son that warranted hiding his entire life?”
Instead of answering, Mu Qing’yan asked, “Is this all you’ve discovered?”
“No, no!” Yan Xu hastily replied. “I’ve made another significant discovery!” He pushed the books aside forcefully. “These are all forgeries!”
“Forgeries?” Mu Qing’yan was finally shocked. “How?”
Yan Xu’s old eyes gleamed. “The forger was incredibly cunning. Not only could they perfectly imitate the handwriting, but their dedication was also unparalleled. To convince Nie Hengcheng, they forged all these notebooks!”
Mu Qing’yan frowned. “If they could imitate the handwriting, why not just write the crucial parts? Why rewrite all the notebooks?”
“You see, Master,” Yan Xu explained, “while handwriting can be imitated, the paper and ink from a century ago are old. These mulberry paper books were written around the same time and should show similar aging. If only one book was forged, it might be noticeable. So they used artificially aged mulberry paper and rewrote everything in imitated handwriting!”
“No wonder Nie Hengcheng didn’t suspect anything,” Mu Qing’yan mused. “How did an illiterate country boy learn to imitate handwriting so well in just a few years?” He then asked, “How did Elder Yan discover the deception?”
Yan Xu couldn’t hide his pride. “I carefully studied Elder Qu’s life and found that she was skilled in calligraphy and quite beautiful, with many admirers.” The lifelong bachelor couldn’t suppress a chuckle at the mention of romance.
Mu Qing’yan gave him an exasperated look. “Get to the point!”
“Yes, yes,” Yan Xu composed himself. “Despite her many admirers, Elder Qu was cold to all men…”
Mu Qing’yan wondered how she had descendants if she was so cold to all men, but he didn’t voice his curiosity. Instead, he smiled slightly and let Yan Xu continue.
“There was an altar master who was madly in love with Elder Qu,” Yan Xu went on. “Frustrated by her indifference, he snuck into her room while she was away and made rubbings of her main writings!”
Mu Qing’yan laughed in disbelief. “I didn’t know such a technique existed. I thought only stone inscriptions could be rubbed.”
“Oh, it exists,” Yan Xu assured him. “There’s a rare liquid that, when applied to smooth parchment and pressed against the original text, can transfer an impression of the ink characters.”
“Wouldn’t that fade the original ink?” Mu Qing’yan inquired.
“Indeed, which is why Elder Qu noticed immediately upon her return. She was furious and wanted to punish the culprit!” Yan Xu chuckled again. “But before she could make it public, the altar master died, and the matter was forgotten.”
Mu Qing’yan’s dark eyes flashed. “Did Elder Yan find those parchments?”
“I did!” Yan Xu excitedly produced a stack of yellowed thin papers from a chest. “The altar master had a loyal subordinate who lied to Elder Qu, saying the parchments couldn’t be found. In reality, they were buried with the altar master.”
Mu Qing’yan’s eyes narrowed. “So you dug up someone’s grave?”
“How can serving the Master be called grave robbing?” Yan Xu defended himself, then added with a sheepish smile, “I reburied him afterward, with all his bones intact.”
Mu Qing’yan stared at the thick stack of parchment, hesitating. “Why didn’t Nie Hengcheng know about the altar master’s rubbings of Elder Qu’s writings?”
“Because no one else knew about it!” Yan Xu exclaimed. “It wasn’t something to be proud of, and since the man had died, Elder Qu never spoke of it again.”
“Then how did you find out?”
“Can you guess the surname of the altar master’s loyal subordinate?” Yan Xu asked with a mischievous smile.
Mu Qing’yan closed his eyes briefly. “Don’t tell me it was Yan.”
“Master, your deduction is impeccable! That loyal subordinate was indeed my grandfather!” Yan Xu’s wrinkled face beamed like a chrysanthemum. “I heard this story from him when I was young, as a cautionary tale. I couldn’t believe my luck when I realized the connection!”
“Indeed, it seems fortune has favored us,” Mu Qing’yan smiled lightly.
“Please, Master, examine these!” The old man reverently presented the parchments with both hands. “These contain all the records about Mu Song’s eldest son. I couldn’t fully understand it, but it seems the son practiced some strange martial art, which greatly angered Mu Song, nearly causing a rift between father and son.”
“I don’t know what the forger wrote for Nie Hengcheng, but what’s imprinted on these parchments must be the truth!”
As dawn broke, Cai Zhao awoke on her own. The bedding, warmed by sunlight, exuded a pleasant, lazy scent and felt as soft as clouds. Reaching towards the inner side of the bed, she found a familiar round, pumpkin-shaped box near her pillow. Without opening it, she knew what was inside mouth-watering sweet and sour dried fruits, tender and chewy meat strips, and soft, melt-in-your-mouth broad bean cakes…
“Oh, what’s that crunching sound? Could it be a little mouse stealing food? Quick, bring the mousetrap! I’ll catch its toes!”
“No, no… it’s me eating. Auntie, don’t trap my toes!” Cai Zhao buried her head in the pillow, as if the gentle, teasing voice still echoed in her ears.
Opening her eyes, she found the room silent. In her childhood, little Cai Zhao always struggled to wake up. Her aunt would have to reach into the warm blankets, tugging at her ears as if picking up a plump, lazy kitten, urging her to practice. Back then, the fragrant, soft bed was her most comfortable place.
Now, things seemed different. Over the past year, she had slept in many places. The bedding in the sect was clean and tidy but cold, clearly dried by the harsh mountain winds rather than sunlight. In small country inns, the bed frames wobbled at the slightest movement, and the bedding either smelled damp or was dried to a crisp by charcoal fires. The strangest was the giant oyster shell bed in the Palace of Extreme Pleasure, carved from a single massive pearl oyster and inlaid with gold and jade from headboard to footboard – how could anyone find that comfortable? The demonic cult truly had a questionable taste.
Whether due to her growth or changed perspective, her childhood bed now felt somewhat cramped. It wasn’t as comfortable as the large, cold stone slab in the cave where she had faced the wall in contemplation.
Cai Zhao got up and put on her clothes, then sat at the table and poured herself a cup of cold water. The half-old white porcelain toad-shaped incense burner was cooling down but still emitted a sweet, gentle orange fragrance. This incense was made by Ning Xiaofeng, and steamed with orange peel, borneol, agarwood, and pear. Before Cai Pingsu passed away, tormented by illness, only this fragrance could help her sleep peacefully.
Cai Zhao drained her cup of cold water, absentmindedly stirring the ashes in the small porcelain burner, deep in thought. She and Song Yuzhi had arrived at Luoying Valley three days ago with Fan Xingjia.
Overjoyed to find her parents safe and well, Cai Zhao learned that Song Shijun had regained consciousness twice but remained bedridden due to severe injuries. Seeing Song Yuzhi’s distress, she consoled him: “Third Senior Brother, don’t be too upset. Your great-uncle is a formidable figure in the martial world, with decades more experience than your father. Such injuries are inevitable when two masters clash at full strength. Your great-uncle’s seventh day of passing approaches, while your father can still be saved.”
Though blunt, her words were effective. Song Yuzhi rallied, devoting himself to caring for his father and assisting Fan Xingjia with acupuncture and herbal remedies.
Late at night, Cai Zhao met with her parents in a secret chamber, recounting her experiences over the past year. She detailed Cai Pingchun’s sudden disappearance in Qingque Town, the discovery of Qian Xueshen – the orphan of Qianmian Sect, the journey to the Great Snow Mountain in search of the Snow Kirin’s saliva, and their encounters with Zhou Zhiqin, Duan Jiuxiu, and the Snow Woman. This was when she and Mu Qingyan first learned about the Purple Micro Heart Sutra and the story of Cai Pingsu and Mu Zhengyang.
Ning Xiaofeng was shocked: “Zhou Zhiqin died in the Great Snow Mountain? Zhixian and the others still think he’s out there searching for his son’s remains!”
“So that’s the secret behind Chen Shu’s death twenty years ago!” Cai Pingchun exclaimed, his face changing. “I always knew Zhou Zhiqin’s calm demeanor masked his resentment towards Elder Zhizhen. To think he’d collude with demonic cultists to practice evil techniques!”
Cai Zhao remained silent for a moment before explaining: “I promised Snow Woman and Qian Xueshen never to speak of them, which is why I hadn’t mentioned it before.”
“…You did the right thing,” Ning Xiaofeng sighed. “Poor souls. Let them live quietly in that snowy realm. Sister Pingsu never mentioned it either; I had no idea she’d been to the Snow Ridge.”
Cai Zhao then recounted her journey with Song Yuzhi to the Hanhai Mountain Range to help Mu Qingyan quell the demonic cult’s internal strife. She spoke of Nie Zhe, Han Yisu, Yu Huiyin, Li Ruxin, the Bone-Corroding Heavenly Rain, the vast underground labyrinth, and the ancient legend of Mu Donglie and Luo Shiyun. Most importantly, before Nie Zhe and Sun Ruoshui were silenced, they revealed that a mysterious figure had been colluding with the demonic cult for years, orchestrating Mu Zhengming’s death and the bloodbath at the Chang family fortress.
After hearing this, Ning Xiaofeng reacted normally at first, sighing deeply: “I never imagined the demonic cult had such complexities. This feud spanning generations…” Then her large almond eyes widened in alarm: “Zhao Zhao, you’re a Cai, not a Luo! Don’t let some ancient legends fill your head with nonsense! No good can come from following a demonic cultist. You’d be unable to return home or see your family, forced to hide at the ends of the earth like a wandering ghost. Remember that!”
Instead of placating her mother as usual, Cai Zhao remained silent for a moment before softly saying: “Great-uncle Cai Changfeng’s notebooks mentioned that even the ends of the earth have their beauty.”
Ning Xiaofeng nearly bulged her eyes out in anger, turning to her husband: “Xiaochun, look at this stubborn girl…” Only then did she notice her husband’s unusual reaction.
Cai Pingchun frowned in deep thought for a while before looking up: “Nie Zhe had a son? Wasn’t he infertile?”
Both mother and daughter were surprised, though for different reasons, and quickly asked how Cai Pingchun knew this.
“Remember when Zhao Tianbao’s men stole Brother Miao Jianshi’s ancestral halberd and nearly killed the Miao family elders? Brother Miao was furious and had your aunt help him capture Nie Zhe to blackmail Nie Hengcheng,” Cai Pingchun explained.
Ning Xiaofeng was puzzled: “How come I never knew about this?”
“It was Zhao Tianbao’s condition,” Cai Pingchun continued. “He sent word to your aunt, proposing a secret exchange – a person for a weapon. He’d claim carelessness, allowing them to reclaim the Miao family halberd. But if the matter became public, given Nie Hengchen’s ruthless nature, he’d sacrifice his good-for-nothing nephew rather than submit.”
“This Zhao seems quite decent, willing to face the master’s punishment,” Cai Zhao observed.
Cai Pingchun nodded: “That old demon’s disciples are quite filial. Though Zhao Tianbao looked down on Nie Zhe, he couldn’t bear to see Nie Hengcheng’s bloodline end, knowing he had no wife or children.”
“But what does this have to do with Nie Zhe’s fertility?” Ning Xiaofeng pressed.
“Your aunt and Brother Miao went to negotiate with Zhao Tianbao, leaving me to guard Nie Zhe,” Cai Pingchun explained. “Nie Zhe had some minor injuries, so I asked Old Huang to treat and bandage him. Afterward, Old Huang quietly told me, ‘That Nie boy had mumps as a child, leaving lasting effects. He likely won’t be able to have children in the future.'”
Ning Xiaofeng was surprised: “Isn’t Old Huang the wine seller? Oh, you kept Nie Zhe in his wine cellar!”
“Old Huang wasn’t always a wine seller. His family has practiced medicine for generations, especially his mother, who specialized in pediatric ailments,” Cai Pingchun clarified. “Given Old Huang’s nature, he wouldn’t speak without certainty.”
Ning Xiaofeng was confused: “Then where did Nie Zhe’s son come from?”
Cai Pingchun dipped his finger in tea and wrote on the table, suddenly smiling: “It’s likely the child of Yu Huiyin and Li Ruxin’s affair. Look…” He wrote ‘Yu Huiyin’ horizontally on the table, then ‘Li Ruxin’ below it. Combining the characters ‘yin’ from Yu Huiyin and ‘xin’ from Li Ruxin vertically formed the character ‘en’ – the ‘en’ in Nie Si’en’s name.
Cai Zhao was impressed: “Father, you’re truly perceptive. That’s exactly right.” While resting in a small tent in the dense forest, she had asked about the fate of Lü Fengchun and others. Mu Qingyan had casually mentioned that Nie Zhe indeed couldn’t have children, and Nie Si’en was indeed the son of Li Ruxin and Yu Huiyin.
She thought about how Uncle Zhou always said her father was mature beyond his years, inarticulate but wise. Cai Pingchun understood many things clearly but often remained silent, perhaps seeing too deeply.
“Father,” Cai Zhao suddenly asked, “Who else knows about Nie Zhe’s condition?”
“The entire exchange was resolved in less than three days. Only four of us knew,” Cai Pingchun replied. “Your aunt wouldn’t gossip about others’ shortcomings, so she likely didn’t speak of it. I never mentioned it. Old Huang passed away soon after due to a relapse of an old injury. But Uncle Miao…” He hesitated, “He probably wouldn’t spread such private matters, but might have mentioned it to someone close.”
Cai Zhao held her breath: “Who was Uncle Miao closest to?”
A thought was forming in her mind. Earlier, Mu Qingyan had said the mysterious figure had blackmailed Lü Fengchun with knowledge of his secret weapons and supplies stockpile, forcing him to rebel. What leverage did they have over Yu Huiyin? In Cai Zhao’s view, Yu Huiyin wasn’t the type to act rashly out of ambition. There must have been something that could utterly ruin him, compelling him to muster the courage to stab Hu Fengge.
Mu Qingyan had accidentally discovered this secret while thoroughly investigating the rebels’ territory. Li Ruxin and Yu Huiyin had rarely interacted over the decades, and ordinary people wouldn’t make such connections without reason.
“Not many, but not few either. However…” Cai Pingchun seemed to guess his daughter’s thoughts, “Your master and Uncle Miao’s younger brother, who died young, were born in the same year and month. That’s why Uncle Miao was especially fond of your master.”
Cai Zhao’s heart raced, her face paling. Seeing her father’s calm expression, she couldn’t help but ask: “Father, aren’t you worried that the mysterious evildoer might be someone very close to us?”
Cai Pingchun calmly replied: “Luoying Valley has remained peaceful for two hundred years by staying out of jianghu conflicts. It takes generations of emotional detachment to survive this long.”
Cai Zhao felt bewildered. Ning Xiaofeng patted her daughter’s hand, urging her to continue.
After Mu Qingyan reclaimed his authority in the cult, Cai Zhao behaved herself at Qingque Sect for a long time, until their visit to the Chang family fortress to pay respects disrupted the peace once more. She and Mu Qingyan discovered Lu Chengnan’s underground tomb, estimated the Shi brothers’ hiding place from the burial objects, survived a rainy night ambush, and were ultimately taken in by the reclusive Shi clan.
Shi Tieshan relayed Lu Chengnan’s last words to them, as well as the reason behind Nie Hengcheng’s late-life madness and killing spree – their second insight into the secrets of the Purple Micro Heart Sutra. From Guo Zigui’s recollections of the past, Mu Qingyan deduced Wang Yuanjing’s failure to save Wu Yuanying and further reasoned that Wang Yuanjing was being blackmailed by the mysterious figure, leading him to scheme and discover the location of the Chang family fortress.
Thus, the two decided to infiltrate Taichu Temple at night to interrogate Wang Yuanjing. However, their efforts were in vain. Just as Wang Yuanjing was about to reveal the identity of the mysterious figure, he was fatally stabbed.
The aftermath was known to all. Mentioning Guo Zigui inevitably saddened Ning Xiaofeng. Cai Pingchun glanced at her daughter and abruptly asked an unrelated question, “So Mu Qingyan had already invited you to investigate the Chang family bloodbath? When Zhou Yuqi unexpectedly cried out to break off the engagement, did Mu Qingyan have a hand in it?”
Cai Zhao felt embarrassed. “Oh, Father, we’re discussing important matters. Don’t change the subject!”
Ning Xiaofeng laughed through her tears. “You two… honestly!” She continued, “Earlier, you suspected Qi Yunke might have learned about Nie Zhe’s infertility from Brother Miao. However, Qi Yunke wasn’t present when Yin Dai gathered everyone to attack Youming Huangdao. Therefore, he couldn’t have seen Wang Yuanjing enter the Eight-Claw Sky Prison and subsequently blackmail him. Moreover, on the night Wang Yuanjing was killed, Qi Yunke was chattering with us about Zhao Zhao’s marriage, even praising Song Yuzhi. He never left our side. Also…” She hesitated, “I just remembered. Brother Miao’s mother’s surname is Zhou, from a branch of the Peiqiong Manor. Technically, Brother Miao and Zhou Zhizhen are cousins. Could it be…?”
Ning Xiaofeng trailed off, but the father and daughter understood her implication—Zhou Zhizhen might also know about Nie Zhe’s infertility. Besides, on the night of Wang Yuanjing’s murder, he was resting alone in his room without witnesses.
“Sigh, how did we circle back to Uncle Zhou?” Cai Zhao muttered. “I even suspected my third senior brother’s elders. Whether it’s his father, Sect Leader Song, or his great-uncle, they’re all powerful cultivators with seemingly ambitious natures. But now, with one dead and one injured, it certainly wasn’t them…”
With the path ahead shrouded in mist, Cai Zhao continued her narrative. This time, she revealed Yin Dai’s secret personal notes and deduced the final secret of the Purple Micro Heart Sutra—the three checkpoints with three challenges. Only then did the Cai couple understand why their daughter insisted on exploring the Blood Swamp?
Upon hearing that Yin Dai allowed Cai Pingshu to go to Mount Tu alone to kill Nie Hengcheng, Ning Xiaofeng’s eyes reddened with anger. She slammed her palm on the table. “That old scoundrel Yin Dai is a hypocrite and a tyrant! He forced my sister Pingshu to risk her life against that old villain Nie, leaving her crippled for half her life! Tell Qi Yunke to give up hope. Just because Song Yuzhi is half Yin by blood, he shouldn’t dream of becoming my son-in-law!”
“Alright, alright, the sins of the father shouldn’t fall on the children,” Cai Pingchun soothed his wife. “If it weren’t for Yuzhi selflessly sharing Yin Dai’s notes, we wouldn’t know any of this.” He turned to his daughter, “Zhao Zhao, what are your plans now? To find the Purple Jade Golden Sunflower?”
Cai Zhao nodded, taking out a piece of paper with a sketch of the Purple Jade Golden Sunflower from her waist pouch. “I was afraid to look for it before, thinking that if Aunt intended to hide it, it should remain hidden. Now that the Blood Swamp Night Orchids are destroyed, even with the Purple Jade Golden Sunflower, one can’t cultivate the Purple Micro Heart Sutra. Letting someone like Song Xiuzhi hold the position of Sect Leader of Guangtian Gate is no blessing to the world. It’s better to help Third Senior Brother regain his strength and reclaim the position of Sect Leader quickly.”
Ning Xiaofeng examined the sketch. “This is the Purple Jade Golden Sunflower? It looks like a black stone.”
Cai Zhao hastily explained: “It’s said that originally it had a ring of bright golden sunflower petals, but the Demonic Sect didn’t take good care of it. After a big fire, all the gold melted, leaving it like this.”
Cai Pingchun also studied the sketch twice before deciding, “Alright, let’s search the town and valley thoroughly these few days to see if we can find this Purple Jade Golden Sunflower.”
The cool water in the teapot was finished, and the incense ash in the white porcelain burner had been stirred until no spark remained. Furong knocked on the door outside, giggling, “Young Miss, it’s time to get up. The sun is shining on your—”
“Young Miss is grown up now. Don’t say such improper things,” Feicui gently interrupted her. Then she banged on the door loudly, “You told us to wake you up yesterday. If you don’t get up now, I’ll pour cold water on you!”
Cai Zhao sighed deeply and opened the door with a stern face: “When all this is over, I must introduce you two to a girl named Xing’er from the Demonic Sect—now that’s how a maid should be, gentle and considerate. Unlike you two, fierce and overbearing. Even if you were raising pigs, you’d anger them to death!”
The two maids remained unperturbed, both inwardly and outwardly, and clapped their hands in unison. “Well said, Young Miss. Thank you for the compliment. When I get married, I’ll open a pig farm and make some fat sausages for Young Miss to taste during festivals.”
“The Demonic Sect Leader wouldn’t drool at the sight of a pig, which proves Furong and I have raised you better than a pig. It’s just that we always have to rush around and hide—this time, as soon as we sensed trouble, we immediately fled back to Luoying Valley at night.”
“…Alright, let’s just get on with the hair and dressing.” Cai Zhao had never won an argument against these two since childhood.
Today, the sky was gloomy with a fine drizzle. Cai Zhao wandered through town under an oil-paper umbrella, eventually stopping at a familiar wonton shop. She sat down and ordered a bowl. After a couple of spoonfuls, she frowned, “Madam, the soup base isn’t right. Did you dilute the bone broth with water? I won’t even mention whether the filling is from the front or hind leg, but these scallions—I’ve told you so many times, they must be freshly cut. Look how wilted they are…”
The shop owner slammed her large ladle into the iron pot and started berating her: “Little Zhao, you’ve been eating wontons here since before you were weaned! You always said, ‘Good, good, the wontons here are the best in the world!’ Now that you’ve grown up, you look down on us! The flatbread seller Wang Dalang and the bun seller Zu Erniang both came to me crying, saying you complained that the flatbread wasn’t soft enough the day before yesterday, and yesterday you said the bun filling wasn’t pure enough.”
“Everyone, judge for yourselves! This girl has eaten our food all her life, and now she’s finding fault with everything. Isn’t this what they call in plays ‘Only seeing the new bride smile, not hearing the old wife cry’? I know, Little Zhao, you’ve been out and seen the big world now. You look down on our poor little town. Oh my, how can we go on living like this…”
The shop owner’s voice was loud enough to echo through the entire street, forcing Cai Zhao to flee in embarrassment. Having been scolded and with an empty stomach, she continued wandering in the drizzle. The smooth, even bluestone road, every shop, every corner—she could find her way blindfolded. This was her familiar yet strange hometown. Everything seemed the same, yet everything felt different. Or perhaps, it was she who had changed?
In a grand mansion deep in the mountains, You Guanyue and Shangguan Haonan whispered from afar outside the door. “The Sect Leader has been reviewing documents for three days now. Hasn’t he finished yet? Didn’t Elder Yan say it was just one stack?”
“Elder Yan did only send up one stack, but later the Sect Leader ordered us to bring other documents for comparison. Who knows how long it will take?”
“Oh, it’s raining.”
“Just a drizzle, quite poetic actually.”
“What’s poetic about it? Xing’er hates this weather the most. Nothing dries properly.”
“Look, look! The Sect Leader has opened the window! What’s he staring at so intently? The rain? Could the Sect Leader like rainy days?”
“Impossible.”
“How do you know it’s impossible! Are you a tapeworm in the Sect Leader’s belly?”
“Whether the Sect Leader likes it or not, Miss Zhao certainly doesn’t because rainy days hinder her shopping. So the Sect Leader won’t like it either.”
“…Fine, you have a point.”
Cai Zhao returned to the valley feeling dejected. She encountered Fan Xingjia reporting Shandarin’s condition to the Cai couple, rambling on about all the necessary herbs. Finally, he quietly stated that after his thorough examination, the Sect Leader could be saved, but due to excessive damage to his meridians and essence, his lifespan might be reduced.
After Fan Xingjia left, Ning Xiaofeng murmured, “Why does this sound so familiar?”
“The doctor who diagnosed your sister said the same thing,” Cai Pingchun quickly added.
Thinking of Cai Pingshu, Ning Xiaofeng was instantly pained. She looked at the unconscious Song Shijun on the bed, his beard unkempt and his complexion sallow. She sighed, “This fellow has had a smooth sailing life, always arrogant and asking for trouble. Who would have thought that in his old age, he’d face such a fate? Sigh, they’re flesh and blood relatives, yet this Song Xiuzhi is too cruel. Usually so quiet, and then he strikes with such deadly force!”
Cai Pingchun offered no comment, instead asking his daughter, “Have you found any clues about the Purple Jade Golden Sunflower?”
Cai Zhao held up three fingers: “These past three days, I’ve practically turned that mansion in town upside down. Nothing.”
Ning Xiaofeng said, “Your father has also thoroughly searched the valley these past three days and found nothing. Could your aunt have sent the Purple Jade Golden Sunflower out of Luoying Valley long ago?”
“Does Mother think the Purple Jade Golden Sunflower is something good? Such a trouble-causing item—as long as Aunt was alive, she certainly wouldn’t harm others with it. I believe she must have hidden it just before her death or perhaps entrusted it to someone. Alas, I was ill for three days and know nothing about it.”
“You’re not the only one who thinks that way,” Cai Pingchun poured his wife a cup of hot tea. “The person behind all this probably also believes your aunt entrusted the Purple Jade Golden Sunflower to someone. Over these three days, I’ve carefully reviewed the events of the past year and finally understood some things.” He looked up, “Who attended your aunt’s funeral? Which sects were present?”
Ning Xiaofeng counted on her fingers: “We didn’t want to make a big fuss, so not many people came—the Five Northern Sects were all here, Brother Chang, the high monks from Changchun Temple, the Green Bamboo Gang from the entrance, and even my mother stumbled over to offer incense.”
Cai Pingchun continued, “The person behind this knows your aunt well. They know that to protect us, she wouldn’t keep the Purple Jade Golden Sunflower in Luoying Valley after her death, but would entrust it to someone trustworthy yet unsuspected. And this person must be among those who attended her funeral.”
Cai Zhao’s heart skipped a beat. “Who could it be?”
“Let me ask you both,” Cai Pingchun addressed his wife and daughter. “If you were your aunt, who would you entrust the Purple Jade Golden Sunflower to?”
“Me?” Ning Xiaofeng paused. “Well, I would entrust it to… The most dangerous place is the safest place. I’d secretly bury it in that old turtle Yang Heying’s ancestral tomb. No one would ever think of that!”
Cai Zhao burst into laughter. “Haha, Mother, you’re too funny!”
“What’s so funny? What’s wrong with my idea?”
“The reason Aunt couldn’t bear to destroy the Purple Jade Golden Sunflower was in case someone needed it in the future. If it’s buried in the Yang family tomb, that black stone mixed with soil would be impossible to find. How is that different from destroying it?”
“Then you tell us!” Ning Xiaofeng retorted.
Cai Zhao thought for a moment. “Generally speaking, entrusting it to Master or Uncle Zhou would be best. They have high cultivation and power to protect the Purple Jade Golden Sunflower.”
Cai Pingchun asked, “What if your aunt doubted them?”
Cai Zhao was startled.
Cai Pingchun continued slowly, “Sect Leader Mu had a point. The person behind this went to great lengths to massacre the Chang family, likely because Brother Chang noticed something. Though he had no evidence, what if he shared his suspicions with your aunt?”
Ning Xiaofeng exclaimed, “We can’t trust Qi Yunke, Zhou Zhizhen, Song Shijun, Qiu Yuanfeng, or Yang Heying. Each is less reliable than the last. So it must be…”
She almost blurted it out.
“That’s why Brother Chang died,” Cai Pingchun gently interrupted his wife. “On the night the Chang family was massacred, they must have searched the entire Chang fortress to no avail.”
“Then who could it be?” Ning Xiaofeng was perplexed. Suddenly, her eyes lit up. “Of course, Master Fakong!”
“That’s why Nie Zhe inexplicably sent people to ambush us on our way back after the Northern Ancestor’s memorial ceremony,” Cai Pingchun explained. “Among all the attacks, only Changchun Temple was assaulted at their doorstep, with the gates breached and parts of the temple burned.”
Cai Zhao’s pupils constricted. “So the other ambushes were just distractions, and Changchun Temple was their real target?”
“Correct, Zhao Zhao, you’re so clever,” Cai Pingchun praised. “If I’m not mistaken, the person behind this has already searched Changchun Temple during the chaos but still found nothing.”
“After failing repeatedly, they finally resorted to having Third Senior Brother infected with the ‘Netherworld Chill,’ forcing us to find the Purple Jade Golden Sunflower for them,” Cai Zhao said, alarmed. “Father, you’re so smart.”
“…After all this talk,” Ning Xiaofeng turned her palms up, “may I ask you two clever people, where exactly is that black stone?”
Both father and daughter fell silent.
After a long while, Cai Zhao sighed, “I’ll go look around some more.”
Watching his daughter’s slender figure leave, Cai Pingchun suddenly said, “If Mu Qingyan never commits a great evil, and Zhao Zhao truly likes him, let them be… Eloping isn’t out of the question.”
Ning Xiaofeng nearly choked on her tea. “What are you saying? My precious Zhao Zhao should have a grand wedding with a ten-mile-long dowry procession and a great feast for guests! Sneaking off to elope? Have you lost your mind?”
Cai Pingchun sighed, “Aren’t you curious? Song Yuzhi was infected with the Netherworld Chill over a year ago. Why did Zhao Zhao only return to Luoying Valley to search now?”
Ning Xiaofeng’s lips quivered.
Cai Pingchun continued, “She knows your sister must have had a deep reason for hiding the Purple Jade Golden Sunflower. No matter how anxious Song Yuzhi was about his incurable condition, Zhao Zhao never intended to help him find it. Only after all the Blood Swamp Night Orchids were destroyed, eliminating any worries, did Zhao Zhao truly set her mind on finding the treasure.” He smiled slightly, “In this aspect, Zhao Zhao is like the people of Luoying Valley, with an innate coolness.”
“You’re the same. Both you and your daughter only care about your own family,” Ning Xiaofeng said softly. “Sigh, only sister Pingshu had a warm heart through and through.”
“Those with warm hearts depart early. Wasn’t Brother Chang’s heart warm? Alas, a cold heart is needed to live long.” Cai Pingchun patted his wife’s shoulder. “But Zhao Zhao is different from Mu Qingyan.”
“Mu Qingyan…”
They had climbed snowy peaks together, obtaining the saliva of the Snow Scale Dragon Beast. Later, they ventured into the Blood Swamp, where Mu Qingyan could have secretly collected branches from the Night Orchid mother plant while Zhao was unaware. With purple jade sunflowers, he could have cultivated evil techniques. Yet, Zhao never doubted him for a moment.
“Some things can’t be ignored just because we choose not to think about them,” Ning Xiaofeng lamented. “How did she end up entangled with that Mu fellow again?”
After wandering the damp valley for hours, Cai Zhao finally slipped into Cai Pingshu’s dwelling. During her lifetime, Pingshu would bring young Zhao back to the valley every spring when flowers bloomed or in late autumn when leaves fell. Zhao peeled off her soaked outer garments and rolled into Pingshu’s bed.
Although her aunt had passed away nearly five years ago, Ning Xiaofeng still maintained the room impeccably. The bedding remained soft and dry, furniture was clean and polished. Even the cosmetics in the dressing-case were fresh as if awaiting Pingshu’s return from her travels.
Mother probably will never accept Aunt’s passing, Zhao thought hazily. Exhaustion from the past fortnight overwhelmed her. Recent events flashed through her mind like a zoetrope, finally settling on Li Wenxun’s words: “I fear the message might be intercepted by carrier pigeons en route…”
Why did this phrase keep bothering her? What was wrong with it?
“Intercepted… carrier pigeons… en route…” Carrier pigeons could be released mid-journey and, if well-trained, would still find the correct destination. However, even the Changchun Temple, renowned for breeding carrier pigeons, would struggle to make them land precisely in a traveler’s hands. Only predatory birds like the Haedong Hawk, skilled at hunting prey mid-flight, could accomplish such a feat.
“Fear… en route… pigeons… message…” Zhao bolted upright, cold sweat dripping down her forehead, heart pounding. She hurriedly threw on her outer garments and dashed towards the pigeon coops in the rain, startling her parents who were enjoying the rain from their window. They hastily followed with an umbrella.
Zhao burst into the coop, rummaging through it frantically.
“Zhao, what’s wrong?” Ning Xiaofeng asked breathlessly as she entered. “You’re not even dressed properly. A young lady shouldn’t—”
“Not now,” Cai Pinchun quieted his wife before addressing their daughter. “Zhao, tell us what’s going on.”
“Father, Mother,” Zhao turned, covered in gray and white pigeons down. “I think I know where the purple jade sunflowers are.”
In a dim, dark hall lit by a single candle, Mu Qingyan shoved aside the messy documents before him. He rose and forcefully pushed open the thick wooden window shutters. A wild gust of wind and fine rain swept into the vast hall, scattering papers everywhere.
The tall, handsome youth stood by the window, allowing the cold rain to soak him. “So that’s it,” he chuckled coldly. “That’s how it is…”
Suddenly, Yu Guanyue’s urgent voice came from outside. “Master, I have urgent news!”
“Come in and report.”
Yu Guanyue carefully opened the door and bowed at the threshold. “A dozen or so disguised individuals have left Luoying Valley. They’ve taken boats in different directions.”
“Which way did Zhao go?”
“Northwest… It seems they’re heading towards our Youming Bamboo Path.”
“Not the Bamboo Path,” Mu Qingyan turned back, his eyes cold. “They’re going to Xuankong Temple.”