The gentle April breeze softly caressed the air, making people feel relaxed and drowsy.
After weathering the major crisis of a false sect leader and the evil cult’s invasion, the Qingque Sect finally regained its former peace and tranquility. On the training ground, the morning sun blazed brightly as the air filled with excited voices. Song Yuzhi, with shoulders lowered and energy focused, moved with agile grace. As his sword struck, rocks shattered and dust billowed, eliciting thunderous cheers from the disciples.
This dangerous venture into the evil cult’s territory could be considered a great success. Song and Cai had “coincidentally” obtained a treasure and managed to escape unscathed from the turbulent evil cult. Upon their return, Song Yuzhi even regained his former strength, delighting Qi Yunke so much that he ate an extra bowl of rice. For any sect, the careful nurturing of a direct disciple for ten years was an extraordinary investment.
With heaven’s blessing and joyous events, one would expect a celebration. However, the disciples strangely sensed an incongruity hanging over Wanshui Qianshan Cliff—the usually smiling and amiable junior sister Cai had suddenly changed her temperament.
The first to cross her path was the fourth senior brother Ding Zhuo.
As the one who had been stood up for the second time, Young Master Ding felt justified in his irritation. At a small gathering of fellow disciples organized by Zeng Lou, he made a snide remark to Cai Zhao, implying that he must indeed be a nobody since he was always forgotten so thoroughly.
He had expected little Miss Cai to apologize as usual, with a smile and a small fist bump, before they set another date to spar. Instead, this time she wordlessly put down her chopsticks, coldly grabbed Ding Zhuo’s sleeve, and dragged him back to his residence. She then had someone guard the courtyard gate, allowing no one to enter.
About two or three incense sticks’ time later, Cai Zhao emerged with an expressionless face, her long moon-white dress swishing with an air that brooked no familial sentiment. No one dared approach to inquire. Ding Zhuo remained secluded in his room for a full three days. When he finally reappeared, he was shrouded in melancholy, his usual arrogance reduced by half.
Though no one knew exactly what had transpired in Pozhu Pavilion, disciples who had peeked over the wall reported hearing constant clanging of swords. The servants who cleaned up afterward said the floor was littered with broken sword fragments, suggesting the two had fought fiercely, possibly more than once.
No one knew the outcome of the duel, nor did anyone dare to ask. They only knew that when Cai Zhao pushed open the door to leave, she coldly told the fallen Ding Zhuo, “Are martial arts meant to be a show for others? In a life-or-death battle, who will wait for you to bathe and burn incense, or ask if you have a toothache or overate? If the fourth senior brother keeps putting on airs like this, you’ll be stuck in your little world forever!”
The positive outcome of this incident was that Ding Zhuo began actively participating in sparring matches with fellow disciples and expressed to Qi Yunke his desire to gain experience outside the sect. The downside was that there was no one more senior brother to “motivate” the disciples.
The second person to cross Cai Zhao’s path was Song Yuzhi.
In truth, Song Yuzhi had no interest in the outcome of the closed-door match at Pozhu Pavilion. He was merely looking for an excuse to visit Chunling Cottage.
“How did the match between junior sister Zhaozao and fourth junior brother go that day?” Song Yuzhi inquired formally.
Cai Zhao looked surprised. “We fought side by side in Youming Huangdao for days. Surely you must know.”
Of course, Song Yuzhi knew.
Cai Zhao had always been slightly superior to Ding Zhuo, but she had only trained in Luoying Valley before. It wasn’t until the evil cult invaded Wanshui Qianshan Cliff that she had a chance to gain real combat experience. However, that incident was brief, and with Li Wenxun and others standing by, she was confident her life wasn’t in danger. It couldn’t compare to this recent life-and-death struggle in Youming Huangdao.
The evil cult members didn’t fight with honor, and during their days of danger, Cai Zhao experienced all kinds of overt and covert attacks, naturally accelerating her martial arts progress. By Song Yuzhi’s estimation, before going to Youming Huangdao, Cai Zhao could defeat Ding Zhuo within 170 to 180 moves. After returning, she could probably take him down in about 100 moves.
Song Yuzhi, not being skilled in conversation, finally asked directly, “How many moves?”
Cai Zhao replied, “Seventy-eight moves.”
“That fast?” Song Yuzhi was somewhat surprised.
“I drew my Yanyang Blade. Fourth senior brother cherishes his ‘Changkong’ sword too much and didn’t dare to clash with me head-on,” Cai Zhao shrugged.
Song Yuzhi commented, “It was just a friendly match between fellow disciples. Was it necessary to draw the Yanyang Blade?”
“I did it for fourth senior brother’s good. He’s too particular, which will cost him in real battles.”
With that, the conversation ended.
Even the proud and aloof Song Yuzhi sensed that his junior sister wasn’t in the mood to chat. In the past, the smiling young girl would have prattled on about everything from storybooks to new kitchen recipes.
Song Yuzhi had to find another topic: “Have you read all the scrolls I sent you?”
“Yes, I’ve read them all. They’re quite good, even more exciting than storybooks. Do you have any more new ones, third senior brother?”
“…” Song Yuzhi paused. “Does junior sister have nothing else to say to me?”
Cai Zhao stood up. “I do. Come with me, senior brother.”
She tugged Song Yuzhi’s sleeve and led him outside, through corridors and flower beds, to a pavilion in the back garden of Chunling Cottage. A long bamboo tube was mounted on the pavilion.
Cai Zhao stood on tiptoes and peered into the distance. “I knew it. They would come at this time.”
The pavilion’s elevated position offered a view of two people talking in hushed tones in a nearby thicket below. It was Qi Lingbo and Dai Fengchi. They could only see the tops of their heads but couldn’t hear their conversation.
Cai Zhao pushed Song Yuzhi towards the bamboo tube, gesturing for him to lean in and listen. Somehow, the tube was set up to transmit Qi Lingbo and Dai Fengchi’s voices.
“…Didn’t I tell you yesterday to eat more, second senior brother? You look even thinner today,” came Qi Lingbo’s voice.
Dai Fengchi sighed but said nothing.
“Why did we have to come here to talk? Second senior brother, why haven’t you come to visit me at Xianyu Linglong Residence?”
“My current situation is awkward. I don’t want to implicate you.”
“You were deceived into helping that impostor. It’s not like you intentionally aided the enemy. I’ve explained it to Father, and he said he doesn’t blame you at all.”
“Master is kind and generous; of course, he wouldn’t blame me. But how will our fellow disciples view me? Even the third junior brother could sense something was off about the impostor, yet I noticed nothing.”
“Third senior brother grew up with Father. When it comes to understanding Father, even I, his daughter, can’t compare, let alone you who grew up with Mother. Please don’t blame yourself, second senior brother. It pains me to see you like this.”
“Lingbo, I understand your intentions, but it’s better if we keep our distance from now on. We’re grown up now, not like when we were children. If you’re too close to me, the third junior brother won’t be happy.”
“Won’t be happy? Hmph! My third senior brother has never cared about me. Even if I die someday, he’d probably be the last to know!”
“Don’t say such things, junior sister. After all, you two are… Sigh… I owe Master’s wife a great debt for raising me. I can’t harm you. Though my martial skills are poor, if you command it, I’ll face a thousand cuts! If I break this oath, may heaven and earth destroy me! Ah but we should still interact less in the future!”
After a long pause, Qi Lingbo said, “Second senior brother, lately Mother often tells me to think carefully about marriage.”
“Why would Master’s wife bring up such a topic?”
Qi Lingbo continued, “Mother says that married life is like drinking water—only you know if it’s hot or cold. She wants me to consider carefully whether endless honor and power can truly compensate for a cold and lonely life.”
“Master’s wife… said that?” Dai Fengchi’s voice trembled. “Junior sister, I… Hey, wait for me, junior sister! Wait for me…”
The sound of footsteps faded as the two walked away.
Song Yuzhi put down the bamboo tube and looked at Cai Zhao.
Cai Zhao looked back at him.
They stared at each other for a long while until Song Yuzhi finally spoke, “Did you make this bamboo tube?”
Cai Zhao replied, “After seeing them talking there for the first time, I cut down a bamboo stalk overnight to make this. The distance is just right. Any further and the sound wouldn’t carry.”
“Eavesdropping on others is wrong.”
“Oh.”
They stared at each other again.
After a moment, Song Yuzhi conceded once more: “Why did you want me to hear this?”
“No particular reason. What do you think, third senior brother?”
Song Yuzhi pondered for a moment, “My engagement to Lingbo…”
“You don’t need to explain, third senior brother.” Cai Zhao turned to leave, waving her hand casually behind her. “I’ve always loved eavesdropping since I was little, but I don’t like listening to explanations.”
From then on, Song Yuzhi joined the ranks of those who were unhappy in the sect.
The third group to cross Cai Zhao’s path was a collective one.
The situation on Wanshui Qianshan Cliff had become quite delicate. The relationships between Song and Cai, Song and Qi, Qi and Dai had become intricate and complex. With hundreds of disciples in the sect, gossip was inevitable. The kinder ones merely exchanged knowing glances and laughed, while the cruder ones indulged in vulgar talk.
However, for some reason, after they finished their jovial discussions, they would often turn to find little junior sister Cai crouching nearby, smiling sweetly, having listened for who knows how long. When she stood up, dusting off her skirt, she would “seek guidance” from her fellow disciples.
They couldn’t refuse, and even if they did, she would fight them anyway. After being beaten up without explanation, they would hobble back together, bruised and swollen, aching for days.
If they had been gossiping about her, the beating might have been understandable. But frustratingly, even when they were just discussing innocent topics like the elderly romance between the widowed third aunt from the kitchen and the flower-growing fifth uncle from the back mountain, they would still get beaten up.
If you knelt and begged for mercy, she would beat you for lacking backbone as a disciple of the Northern Chen’s premier sect.
If you lay down and accepted your fate saying “Just hit me,” she would beat you, claiming she’d never heard of such a request being granted.
If you had just been beaten the day before, she would say, “After three days, one should look at a person with fresh eyes. Let junior sister see if today’s senior brother is stronger than yesterday’s,” and then proceed to beat you again in an endless cycle.
When everyone cried out to Elder Zeng Lou, Cai Zhao would claim it was all “sparring.” How could sparring between fellow disciples be harmful? Everyone had misunderstood, she’d say, leaving Elder Zeng Lou at a loss for words.
When they tearfully reported to Song Yuzhi, he would grimly beat the disciples again, calling it “preventive measures.”
After this chaotic period, the Qingque Sect suddenly became extremely quiet. The disciples only focused on their training, no longer daring to gossip. Cai Zhao found herself without sparring partners, feeling as lonely as snow.
One day, as she wandered around the mountain, she unknowingly strolled to the stele forest on the back mountain. There, she found Elder Li Wenxun standing in the middle, staring blankly up at the towering stone steles.
This stele forest was built against the mountain, surrounded by wild grass and desolate cold. The damp and gloomy atmosphere was punctuated by ghostly winds howling through the area.
Given such inauspicious feng shui, the steles naturally didn’t record heroic deeds. Instead, they chronicled the evil acts of Qingque Sect’s villainous disciples throughout history: those who betrayed their masters, secretly harmed fellow disciples, practiced evil techniques, betrayed the sect, and of course, those who colluded with the evil cult…
Cai Zhao quickly cupped her hands in greeting: “Elder Li.”
Li Wenxun grunted, pointing to one of the blank stone tablets. “Shall we engrave Qiu Renjie’s story here?”
Cai Zhao froze, finally grasping his meaning.
“Qiu Renjie betrayed our sect, colluded with the evil cult, and plotted against the master,” Li Wenxun declared. “He should have been dismembered before all disciples. Allowing him to take his own life was too lenient.”
Recalling that this Elder Li also oversaw the sect’s disciplinary matters, Cai Zhao involuntarily shrank back.
Li Wenxun continued, “The criminal’s body is abandoned in the wilderness, his misdeeds exposed to the world. Meanwhile, the spirits of martyrs and heroes are enshrined in the Twilight Palace. This is how good and evil are repaid!” He turned to Cai Zhao. “Zhao-Zhao, though you’re only nominally part of the sect, always remember our rules.”
Sweat beaded on Cai Zhao’s forehead as she hastily agreed.
After this unexpected admonition, she returned dejectedly to Chunling Cottage. There, she resumed her peaceful days of practicing martial arts, fishing, reading novels, and occasionally “sparring” with fellow disciples.
Gradually, she seemed to forget about that peculiar, sarcastic person who used to give her headaches.
Time flowed swiftly, and a month passed. The day to pay respects to the Changs approached.
As tradition dictated, six of Qi Yunke’s seven direct disciples were sent ahead to the Chang family fortress to prepare for the memorial ceremony. Only the eldest disciple, Zeng Dalou, remained to manage sect affairs.
On the day of departure, led by Dai Fengchi, the six disciples and over a dozen skilled inner and outer disciples bid farewell to Qi Yunke and set off down the mountain.
The Chang family mansion originally stood in a small town at the foot of Wuan Mountain, where they were a prominent local clan. To escape Nie Hengcheng’s murderous rampage, Chang Hao built a hidden fortress in the mountains and moved his entire family there.
Since Taichu Temple wasn’t far from Wuan Mountain, the Qingque Sect disciples first sent their calling cards to pay respects to the current master, Wang Yuanjing, upon arriving.
After the tragedy of Wu Yuanying, Taichu Temple lost face in the martial arts world. Whenever they appeared in public, they faced open mockery or pitying remarks about Wu Yuanying’s heroic past, or curses about Qiu Yuanfeng’s shamelessness, leaving Taichu disciples deeply embarrassed.
After Wang Yuanjing became the new master, he decided to keep a low profile and wait for the controversy to blow over.
When Dai Fengchi’s calling card arrived, Wang Yuanjing was in the middle of refining pills and couldn’t leave. He instructed his renowned disciple to guide the Qingque Sect up Wuan Mountain. Li Yuanmin, the youngest of the Yuan generation, eagerly accompanied them.
While Wuan Mountain was accessible to all, the Chang family fortress had remained hidden for a decade. Searching the vast mountain inch by inch would have been like finding a needle in a haystack.
However, since the protective formation around the Chang fortress had been broken, the path was now clearly visible.
Guided by the Taichu disciple, the group found the burnt ruins of the Chang family fortress in a mountain valley.
By then, dusk had fallen. In the fading light, scattered debris told the story of the once-prosperous Chang clan of Wuan, now destroyed.
Li Yuanmin sighed, “This place was wrecked beyond recognition by those evil cult villains. They set it ablaze, and it burned for days until nothing remained. Later, we gathered what charred remains we could and buried them in the cemetery behind the mountain.”
Though Dai Fengchi’s cultivation was average, his social skills were commendable. He immediately praised Taichu Temple’s benevolence, restoring some face to the embarrassed Taichu disciples.
After an exchange of flattery, disciples from both sects headed to the mountain cemetery where the Chang clan members were buried and where Chang Hao’s ashes would soon be interred. As they rounded the mountain face, they saw a group of armed individuals standing silently before the bare graves and tombstones, their expressions respectful.
Among this ghostly crowd stood a tall, slender youth in a dark robe.
Pale moonlight spilled over the mountain’s edge, casting long shadows through the sparse stone forest and across the desolate graveyard. The youth stood backlit, his face deep-set and beautiful, cold and imposing.
He looked at the large group with slight surprise, then his gaze pierced through the crowd, landing directly on a spot behind Song Yu.
Cai Zhao’s mouth throbbed violently, and she quickly lowered her head.