The Bodhi tree’s branches swayed gently, and through the rising mist, the sound of water echoed from behind the bamboo fence.
A spiritual barrier shielded the area beyond the tall fence from prying eyes. Nan Yan immersed herself in the warm water, her long hair floating as the alcohol’s effects gradually wore off.
She realized she might have said something inappropriate earlier. Glimpsing her reflection in the water, she sighed and covered her face. Ten years of Buddhist cultivation, yet one night of drinking revealed her alluring nature—truly unbefitting a Buddhist practitioner.
After reciting the Heart Sutra thrice while fingering her prayer beads, her mind calmed. Suddenly, she heard the faint sound of a zither, seemingly just tuning.
Slightly embarrassed, Nan Yan sank deeper into the spring, though she knew she couldn’t be seen. “Shao Cang, I apologize for my drunken words earlier.”
Qi Yang gently wiped the Drunken Zither’s headstock. Though his eyes were closed out of propriety, he couldn’t block out the water sounds.
A cultivator’s heightened senses weren’t always advantageous.
His fingers lightly pressed the strings, forgetting to release them. When he came to, he had produced an awkward off-key note. Qi Yang curled his fingers and replied, “I know you have many questions. I too have things difficult to express. When the time is right, I’ll be honest. Then… I hope you won’t dismiss me lightly.”
His words, rather than increasing her worries, actually reassured Nan Yan.
“You’ve always been meticulous in your planning, Shao Cang. I won’t pry. Even if one day you make a mistake, even if everyone else abandons you, I’ll be the last to do so.”
Since reuniting with Shao Cang, Nan Yan had felt uneasy. Over the years, their paths had diverged. They seemed familiar, yet were strangers.
The past couldn’t be reclaimed; she only hoped their futures wouldn’t drift too far apart.
Blushing slightly, she added, “But in the end, I rely on you more. As my brother mentioned, Cloud Empress Dowager might dislike me. I’m not sure how to handle that.”
“The Yun clan of Shen State values tradition highly. Southern Fragrant Lord was a realm ruler who had a child with an unknown person—unacceptable to Cloud Empress Dowager. However, your status in Chou Mountain and Brahma Sea of Mao State should offer some protection.”
“True. I don’t seek status in the Red Emperor’s Jade Palace; I just want to confirm if my mother’s remains were truly retrieved,” Nan Yan said, her voice tinged with worry. “When you drew out the Dragon Lord’s spirit sense and he expressed shock at my mother’s passing, I had suspicions. If Yin State took my mother’s body, how could the Dragon Lord, a realm ruler, only learn of it now? I think… there might be more to my mother’s story.”
“You may need to uncover more about your mother’s past. Did she ever mention your father?”
“I… I don’t know.” Nan Yan had been raised solely by Nan Rao as far as she could remember.
Unlike other strict mortal mothers, Nan Rao had a childlike approach to parenting, ensuring Nan Yan experienced everything firsthand.
When six-year-old Nan Yan was pushed into a river by classmates, Nan Rao arrived in time to save her life with some spell. When a neighbor insisted on brewing herbal medicine, the clueless Nan Rao dragged Nan Yan from her sickbed to watch, nearly burning down the kitchen in their failed attempt to learn.
Those happy days with her mother meant Nan Yan never dwelled on her father’s identity. Now, she regretted not asking more as a child.
“I truly can’t remember anything,” Nan Yan said, pressing her wet hand to her forehead. “Given my age, my mother must have conceived me about twenty years ago. Shao Cang, have you heard of any romantic connections Southern Fragrant Lord had around that time?”
“It’s improper to speculate about the deceased.”
Nan Yan smiled at his response. Shao Cang had always been particularly cautious and respectful in certain matters, influencing her subtly.
“Your heart is pure, Shao Cang. No need for such formality. In the vision from the Drunken Zither, you showed me, I saw someone who seemed to be my uncle’s friend. Could he be a possibility?”
Unexpectedly, a long silence followed her question. Only when Nan Yan asked again did Qi Yang respond.
“Shao Cang, what’s wrong?”
“Southern Fragrant Lord was unconventional and renowned for her beauty across all realms. Her admirers were countless. Even among current realm rulers, some still cherish her memory. You’ll likely hear more in time. The twenty-year timeframe isn’t definitive; at her level of cultivation, she could have suppressed a pregnancy for years, even a decade or more.”
“I see…”
Qi Yang continued, “Among the realm rulers, three had genuine relationships with Southern Fragrant Lord. First was Dragon Lord Ao Guanghan of Chen State. In their youth, they studied together at Dao Sheng Tian on their fathers’ orders—childhood friends, you could say. But both had fiery tempers and fought each other more often than they faced demon cultivators.”
“Oh my,” Nan Yan recalled the Dragon Lord’s intimidating spirit sense. “In three months, we’re going to Dragon Capital to explain the situation. Won’t this Dragon Lord hate me?”
“Don’t worry. The Dragon Lord treats even Mu Zhanting, who came with a broken engagement, like his own child. If you were his daughter, he might love you even more than the Red Emperor loved his daughter.”
“Who’s the second?” Nan Yan asked.
“Prince Song Zhi’s master, Sword Hero Meng Xiaolou of Wei State. It’s said Southern Fragrant Lord once disrupted his sword heart. Rumors claimed he’d either kill her or marry her. When the old Taoist Sovereign was alive, he was close friends with the Red Emperor and intended for the Southern Fragrant Lord to marry his top disciple. On the eve of their engagement, Meng Xiaolou suddenly took Southern Fragrant Lord away, declaring they’d elope. They disappeared for three months. Dao Sheng Tian values its reputation highly, so the engagement had to be called off…”
Nan Yan’s expression grew complex. “It seems the realm rulers were quite reckless in their youth. How could their elders still let them rule realms after such behavior?”
“I’m not sure, but apparently, just before their respective sects found them, Southern Fragrant Lord had already tricked Meng Xiaolou into returning to Wei State for closed-door sword cultivation.”
Nan Yan recalled Song Zhu’s unwavering dedication to the Way and said, “My mother probably didn’t have that ability. It’s more likely that Jian Xiong suddenly realized the importance of swordsmanship over romance. Ah truly befitting a sword cultivator—worthy of admiration and emulation.”
“…” Ji Yang fell silent for a moment before responding, “The sword cultivators of Wei Zhou are not to be underestimated.”
Nan Yan then asked, “You mentioned three people earlier. Is the third one the person called ‘Ze Wei’ from the illusion?”
Instead of answering, Ji Yang posed a question: “Yan, since you’ve come to Shang Zhou, do you know who the strongest cultivator in the current world is?”
“As a mere false Core Formation cultivator, I wouldn’t dare to judge the powerful cultivators of Shang Zhou. However, I imagine the Dragon Lord of Chen Zhou and Jian Xiong of Wei Zhou, whom you just mentioned, must be at the pinnacle of the cultivation world.”
“Beyond the Nascent Soul realm lies the Deity Transformation realm. Breaking through Deity Transformation allows one to shatter space and ascend to immortality. The rulers of all regions are at the Deity Transformation level.”
“Then…”
Ji Yang’s voice carried a hint of indifference: “Ying Ze Wei, the Lord of Dao Sheng Tian, is the master of all paths in the world and currently the number one figure in the cultivation world.”
The number one in the cultivation world! Just hearing this title evoked the image of a towering mountain peak, inspiring awe and reverence.
“Legendary figures like Dao Zun and Chi Di ascended to the upper realm seven hundred years ago. Ze Wei of Dao Sheng Tian might become the next to ascend.”
Shocked, Nan Yan instinctively lowered her voice: “Then he…”
“Among the people I mentioned, the Dragon Lord and Jian Xiong could potentially be your birth father, but he is not a possibility.”
“Why?”
As soon as Nan Yan asked, she sensed a change in the atmosphere. Ji Yang seemed to have stood up and walked to the bamboo fence.
Nan Yan instinctively shuddered, sinking deeper into the water. “Shao Cang?”
“Yan.” Though separated by the bamboo fence, his voice seemed close. Nan Yan heard a hint of something hidden in his slightly hoarse voice. “I’m not a Buddhist cultivator; I’m not skilled in abstinence.”
He was so proper when maintaining decorum, yet so unpredictable when crossing boundaries.
Nan Yan dared not speak. The accumulated Sanskrit in her mind scattered like broken starlight. His suggestive words crept into her heart like both serene moonlight and a cunning snake.
“Be careful when you try to enlighten me in the future.”
…
The next day, cultivators from Long Du arrived. Mu Zhanting saw them off repeatedly, insisting he would only accompany Nan Yan and the others to Bei Hai for a day before returning to Chen Zhou. The Long Du cultivators finally agreed, even using the dragon-lion war chariot. Within two days, they sped towards Yin Zhou.
Yin Zhou, an ancient beastkin country, differed from the prosperity of Chen Zhou or the tranquility of Mao Zhou. It was filled with ancient lands worth exploring, boasting the most secret realms among all regions.
Given Yin Zhou’s vast territory, cultivators preferred teleportation arrays over time-consuming skyships. The method of creating these arrays was a wartime secret monopolized by Dao Sheng Tian. Even in Chen Zhou, only Long Du cultivators could use them. However, in Yin Zhou, the former land of the ancient beastkin country, teleportation arrays were abundant. One could travel great distances by finding a city, paying spirit stones, and using the arrays.
With too many Core Formation cultivators from Long Du following Mu Zhanting, using the teleportation array together might raise suspicions in Yin Zhou. Thus, only Mu Zhanting would accompany Nan Yan’s group of three to Bei Hai. The others would wait for three days and search for them if Mu Zhanting didn’t return on time.
New to Yin Zhou, Nan Yan found everything fascinating. They traveled thousands of miles in just half an hour using the teleportation array.
Upon exiting, only Yin Qie immediately rushed behind a tree to retch. Nan Yan, resigned to the delicate fox spirit’s condition, half-dragged, and half-carried him as they flew toward Bei Hai.
Bei Hai in Yin Zhou was no different from other places—sandy beaches, rocky cliffs, and a vast expanse of sea. The four flew to a high mountain where Ji Yang sat down but didn’t take action. Instead, he stared into space, seemingly observing something.
Since their conversation at Bodhisattva Spring that night, Ji Yang had become less talkative, as if preoccupied. Noticing this, Nan Yan quietly pulled Mu Zhanting aside.
“Do you think Shao Cang is nervous?”
“Probably. The Dragon Lord said that ‘Silent Night Lament’ is one of the most difficult zither pieces in the world. Only someone with a completely calm mind can play it.”
Feeling guilty for pressuring Ji Yang, Nan Yan thought for a moment before coming up with an idea. She called Mu Zhanting and Yin Qie over and whispered to them.
The great demon-sealing array of Bei Hai was Dao Sheng Tian’s masterpiece, with eighteen array formations above and below the sea surface intertwining. Although affected by the Drunken Illness, he still needed to find a gap in the array’s changes to send the zither’s sound into the demon-sealing array for Nan Yi to hear.
As Ji Yang closed his eyes to examine the strange array of formations surrounding Bei Hai with his divine sense, he suddenly noticed Nan Yan and the other two approaching. They sat around him, each holding a wooden fish.
Ji Yang: “…”
Ji Yang: “What are you doing?”
“Can’t remember how to play ‘Silent Night Lament’?” Nan Yan asked with concern. “The waves must be too loud and distracting. The three of us will surround you and strike the wooden fish in unison. If we keep a steady rhythm, you can relax and find your groove.”
Ji Yang’s hand on the zither strings momentarily turned white from excessive force. The next moment, he heard the wooden fish harmonizing with the ocean waves, creating a cacophony. In the sea of heart demons, yin chants stirred as if trapped in a refining array.
…What torture.
Striking the wooden fish, Nan Yan’s eyes gleamed: “Do you feel more at peace now?”
Ji Yang: “Yes, wooden fish accompanying the ancient zither—such a combination is unprecedented. My mind is now clear. Yan, you can stop now.”
Nan Yi humbly replied, “We were just improvising. Who knew we’d stumble upon the edge of instrumental mastery? Next time, let’s explore this further. I can also play the vajra pestle and the purple-gold bowl.”
Yes, impressive indeed, but he couldn’t help thinking that sometimes Nan Yi’s skull might be better for striking.
This distraction caused the array to complete another cycle. Ji Yang, who had been monitoring it with his divine sense, immediately noticed a perfect gap in the formation. As he was about to pluck the strings, he suddenly heard a zither melody emanating from the array gap.
That zither sound… was profoundly sorrowful.
Nan Yan, also hearing it, exclaimed in surprise, “This… is the tune my mother used to hum to me!”