As evening approached, Cai Zhao awoke. Fan Xingjia came personally to invite them to dinner.
After his nap, Chang Ning was unusually pleasant. He even poured a cup of water for Fan Xingjia, who was so surprised he almost snorted it up his nose. Since arriving at Wanshui Qianshan Cliff, this bitter orphan of the Chang family had shown kindness to no one but his master, acting as if everyone owed him a fortune in property deeds.
“Brother Fan, you’ve worked so hard. We’ve been resting while you’ve been bustling about like an ant on a hot pan, without a moment’s rest…” In just one afternoon, Chang Ning seemed to have transformed, his words full of warmth and concern, though his simile was a bit off.
“Brother Chang, it’s not an ant, but a cricket on a hot pan,” little Cai Han interjected, rubbing his eyes.
Chang Ning lovingly patted the child’s head. “Sweet Han, how can you compare Brother Fan to an ant? You could easily crush dozens of ants with one step, but could you crush Brother Fan? So he’s not an ant.”
Cai Han stopped rubbing his eyes. “But, Brother Fan isn’t a cricket either, because… because…”
“You couldn’t crush a cricket with one step. They’d jump away.”
The young Cai looked bewildered. The logic seemed sound.
“Both of you, stop it. Brother Fan is neither an ant nor a cricket. He’s a person!” Cai Zhao, still groggy from sleep, slammed the table, concluding the matter.
Fan Xingjia held his cup, speechless, silently begging them to stop.
The three followed Fan Xingjia into the newly arranged main hall of the rear palace of Muwei Palace.
…or rather, its side hall.
The entire Muwei Palace was symmetrically designed along a central axis, with each main hall flanked by eastern and western side halls.
This time, Fan Xingjia had thoughtfully arranged for Cai Zhao and her companions to sit at an extended table near the window in the western side hall. To their left, at the head table, sat two young monks from Changchun Temple, who were disciples of Cai Zhao’s uncle, Master Juexing. To their right, at the lower end, sat a quiet, frail young girl named Yang Xiaolan, daughter of the Siqimen sect leader. She was so shy she couldn’t even raise her head when greeting others.
The monks were amiable, and the girl seemed harmless. As for Qi Lingbo, Dai Fengchi, and the others, they were seated in the eastern side hall, separated by the bustling main hall. Even if they shouted at the top of their lungs, they wouldn’t be heard across the divide.
“Praise Buddha, now we should have peace,” thought Fan Xingjia, breathing a sigh of relief as he pulled up a stool to join the conversation.
Cai Zhao quickly spotted her parents among the crowd. The Cai Pingchun couple sat below Song Shijun, the leader of Guangtian Gate. Both wore expressionless faces, mechanically engaging with the other martial artists.
Cai Zhao couldn’t help but ask, “Brother Fan, tomorrow is the grand ceremony. Has everyone arrived?”
Fan Xingjia thought for a moment before answering, “Everyone except Abbot Fakong from Changchun Temple and the Taichu Temple group has arrived.”
“I understand about Abbot Fakong. His senior brother, Abbot Fahai, just passed away, so he needs to stay for the rituals. But why is Taichu Temple also arriving late tomorrow morning?” Cai Zhao asked, puzzled.
“Naturally, it’s to make a grand entrance,” Chang Ning lowered his voice. “Three years ago, when your aunt passed away, the martial world’s elites came to pay respects. My father said Taichu Temple arrived last, making quite a spectacle.”
“I was sick then and missed it all,” Cai Zhao also spoke softly. “If arriving last makes the grandest impression, wouldn’t not coming at all be even grander?”
Fan Xingjia leaned in, “For the Ancestor’s death anniversary if Taichu Temple truly didn’t come, they’d be leaving themselves open to criticism. In recent years, Taichu Temple’s leader, Qiu Yuanfeng, has been quite prominent, involving himself in every matter of the martial world. Quite remarkable!”
“Does no one comment on Taichu Temple’s behavior?” Cai Zhao asked quietly.
“Of course they do,” Fan Xingjia chuckled softly. “It’s just…”
“Brother Yunke,” Song Shijun, sitting in the second most prominent seat, wearing his usual golden crown and gold-embroidered robes, spoke with obvious displeasure. “Tomorrow morning is the Ancestor’s death anniversary ceremony. Isn’t it inappropriate for Taichu Temple to still be absent?”
He deliberately projected his voice, ensuring everyone in the hall heard him. All eyes turned to the head seat.
Qi Yunke, seated at the head, replied calmly, “Leader Qiu’s letter mentioned some temple business. They’ll be slightly delayed but will arrive before tomorrow morning’s ceremony.”
Song Shijun grinned, “Brother Yunke, I know you’re good-natured, but some matters require you to show authority. Abbot Fakong is a guest; his presence is appreciated but not mandatory. But we six sects are the Ancestor’s descendants. They might put on airs for other events, but to be so negligent about the Ancestor’s 200th death anniversary… Shouldn’t Qingque Sect say something?”
With these words, the hall fell silent, all waiting to see how Qi Yunke would respond.
Although the six Northern sects claimed to be united in glory, internally they managed their affairs separately, only uniting under the Qingque Sect’s leadership when facing the Demonic Sect. However, times had changed, and sometimes the Qingque Sect leader could assert authority over other sects’ disciples.
Song Shijun’s sudden focus on Taichu Temple was meant to put Qi Yunke in a difficult position.
Cai Zhao whispered, “Isn’t Leader Song deliberately causing trouble? How should Uncle Qi respond? If he says ‘It’s fine, a slight delay doesn’t matter,’ Song will accuse him of disrespecting the Ancestor’s anniversary. If Uncle Qi gets angry, should he immediately gather people to confront Taichu Temple? I don’t know if other sects would laugh, but the Demonic Sect would certainly find it hilarious.”
Chang Ning replied, “Obviously, the point of creating difficulty is to put the Sect Leader in a dilemma. Otherwise, why bother saying anything? But why is Song trying to trouble Sect Leader Qi when there’s no grudge between them?”
Both turned their gaze to Fan Xingjia, who sighed and said, “In recent years, Guangtian Gate has been recruiting talented individuals, nearly rivaling our sect. Earlier, Leader Song suggested holding this 200th-anniversary ceremony at Guangtian Gate. Even Master, kind as he is, couldn’t agree to that. Fortunately, with Peiqiong Manor and Luoying Valley’s support, the matter was settled. Leader Song, unable to achieve his wish, must be… must be displeased.”
“Bah!” Cai Zhao spat softly. “Jiuli Mountain’s Muwei Palace is where the Ancestor secluded himself. How could the anniversary ceremony be moved elsewhere? He’s just taking advantage of Uncle Qi’s good nature!”
Chang Ning remarked with interest, “Third Senior Brother Song Yuzhi is Leader Song’s son. By causing trouble so openly, isn’t he worried his son might face difficulties in the sect?”
Fan Xingjia sighed, “Master is a kind person who doesn’t hold grudges. No matter what Leader Song does, he won’t take it out on Third Senior Brother. Besides, besides…”
“Besides, there’s Lady Sulian. Her sister, Lady Qinglian, was Leader Song’s late wife. No matter how much trouble there is, who in the sect would dare mistreat the Lady’s nephew?” Cai Zhao frowned. “In the end, they’re just bullying Uncle because he’s too nice.”
“Mother is speaking, everyone looks!” Little Cai Han suddenly called out. The three turned to look.
They heard Ning Xiaofeng raising her voice, though her cultivation wasn’t strong enough to make her words resound like Song Shijun’s. Everyone fell silent to hear her.
“…Even brothers live separately after dividing the family. Though the Qingque Sect leads the six sects, it can’t micromanage the other five. As long as Taichu Temple doesn’t delay tomorrow’s memorial ceremony, it’s not a fault,” Ning Xiaofeng, who had disliked Song Shijun for years, spoke bluntly.
“I’ve always said, ‘To be a good in-law, be neither deaf nor mute.’ Being the Qingque Sect leader is truly difficult. Thankfully, Brother Qi is honest and doesn’t fuss over trivial matters. Otherwise, if he threw his weight around, demanding obedience even in minor issues, wouldn’t we five sects cry out in misery?”
Though her analogy was a bit coarse, it made sense. If they had an overbearing leader nitpicking every detail, the other sects would suffer. The audience nodded in agreement, their whispered discussions not escaping Song Shijun’s keen ears, causing his face to tighten further.
A middle-aged man sitting opposite Song Shijun noticed his displeasure and smiled, speaking loudly, “Xiaofeng speaks well. Everyone says the Qingque Sect is the world’s premier sect, but few realize how challenging it is to lead. We’re fortunate that Brother Yunke is generous and rarely takes offense. This allows the six Northern sects to remain harmonious. Brother Song means well today, but he’s known for speaking his mind. We’re all family here, so let’s not take offense.”
Since Song Shijun spoke, Yin Sulian had been torn between her husband and brother-in-law. Hearing this refined man mediate, she quickly said, “Brother Zhizhen… ahem… Manor Lord Zhou is right. We’re all family, so let’s not argue. Servants, bring wine and food, quickly!”
The mediator was Zhou Zhizhen, lord of Peiqiong Manor, known for his cultured demeanor and mastery of both literature and martial arts. Everyone laughed and joked, trying to smooth over the incident.
Song Shijun, still displeased, signaled to Yang Heying, the Siqimen sect leader. The two were close, and Song’s look meant “It’s your turn.”
Yang Heying thought, “If you, Song Shijun, failed to trouble Qi Yunke directly, how could I succeed? Why embarrass myself?” His eyes darted to the Cai Pingchun couple, and he hatched a plan. He called out, “Valley Master Cai, it’s been years. How have you been?”
Cai Pingchun, slightly startled, replied, “Fine, fine.”
Yang Heying smiled, “Ah I can still picture Heroine Cai Pingzhu’s grace and beauty. In her youth, she dominated the martial world, braving demon lairs and bandit strongholds, upholding justice. Everyone admired her. Though she’s gone now, I see her spirit in you, Valley Master Cai. Fortunately, Luoying Valley has a worthy successor. Congratulations!” While seemingly reminiscing about Cai Pingzhu, he was implying that Luoying Valley had lost its former glory without her.
Chang Ning frowned, “Why does this man speak so ambiguously?”
“Not just his words, but his actions too are dubious,” Cai Zhao gritted her teeth. “I met him when I was young.”
Chang Ning and Fan Xingjia were surprised.
Little Cai Han interjected, “Why haven’t I met him?”
Cai Zhao scolded softly, “Silly, I was four then. You didn’t exist! Don’t interrupt, eat your pastries!”
After pushing down her little brother’s head, she continued, “That year, some ‘Three Heroes of Sha River’ came, claiming they wanted to challenge my father in the name of martial fellowship. We don’t even know how they entered the valley. Those shameless men said that even against a hundred opponents, the three brothers would fight together, so they’d face my father three-on-one.”
Chang Ning sneered, “If it were me, I’d find a hundred people to fight them. I’d exhaust them to death, draining all their energy.”
“Then what happened? Did Valley Master Cai win?” Fan Xingjia asked eagerly.
“Is that even a question? Of course, Valley Master Cai won. Otherwise, this story would have spread throughout the martial world,” Chang Ning snorted.
Fan Xingjia was puzzled, “What do you mean?”
Chang Ning explained, “When Nie Hengcheng was alive, the Demonic Sect was invincible. Many skilled fighters from the six Northern sects died or were injured in several major battles, especially from Luoying Valley. Those three scoundrels were taking advantage of the situation. Seeing that Valley Master Cai’s uncle and sister were either dead or injured and that he was young and unknown, they thought they could easily win. If they had won, they would have boasted about defeating the Luoying Valley leader and brother of Heroine Cai. Since no one knows about this incident, Valley Master Cai must have won.”
Cai Han was amazed, “Wow, Senior Brother Chang, you’re so smart! Sister, is that what happened?”
Cai Zhao glanced at Chang Ning, “Yes, it’s just as Senior Brother Chang said, Father won. Sigh, mother said Father practiced day and night for years to prepare for such situations.”
Fan Xingjia also praised, “Junior Brother Chang is indeed clever. I’m far behind.”
Chang Ning ignored him and continued, “What does this have to do with Yang Heying?”
“Two years before those scoundrels came, Father had already made a breakthrough. Dealing with those three wouldn’t have been difficult. The despicable part was Yang Heying’s behavior. He pretended to mediate but just stood by watching the show. When the Sha River Three Heroes attacked Father, he did nothing. But when father was about to disable those scoundrels, he intervened, saying nonsense like ‘Fellow martial artists should know when to stop.’ Bah!” Cai Zhao said angrily.
Chang Ning nodded, “I see. It seems Yang Heying was there to test your father’s abilities.”
Cai Zhao was confused, “Test his abilities? Yang Heying? Why would he do that?”
Chang Ning explained, “Your aunt, Cai Pingzhu, was once as renowned as a thunderbolt from the blue. She was invincible in her adventures and acquired many rare treasures, medicines, and secret manuals. Strong sects like Qingque and Guangtian wouldn’t covet these, and proud ones like Peiqiong Manor and Taichu Temple wouldn’t stoop to such actions. But Siqimen? Hmph. With their outdated rules and stagnant ways, they’ve been declining for generations. How could they not be tempted?”
Hearing this, Cai Han couldn’t help but interject, “Actually, Mother said Luoying Valley had been declining for generations even before Aunt…”
“Say one more word and you can forget about supper!” Cai Zhao wished she could sew her little brother’s mouth shut.
Chang Ning smiled, “Yang Heying went to assess the situation. If your father’s skills were profound, he’d back off. If not, he’d see an opportunity. I bet those Sha River Three Heroes were his way into Luoying Valley. After you changed the formation at your valley’s entrance, few could enter, right?”
As Chang Ning spoke, he noticed Fan Xingjia serving food to Cai Zhao with his endearing dimples showing. He changed his tone, implying, “Even with Sect Leader Qi’s protection, Luoying Valley can’t rely on distant help for immediate problems. As long as Valley Master Cai can’t stand firm on his own, villains will always find weak spots. Don’t you agree, Junior Sister?”
Cai Zhao lowered her head, silent.
Displeased at losing his audience, Chang Ning prodded, “Why aren’t you saying anything?”
Cai Zhao seemed lost in thought, “Your father, the great hero Chang Haosheng, roamed the martial world for many years, even longer than my aunt. He rarely lost. So, did the Chang family also accumulate many rare treasures, medicines, and secret manuals?”
Fan Xingjia’s eyes lit up as if no one had ever considered this. He quickly looked at Chang Ning.
Chang Ning stared at Cai Zhao, “Indeed. My father accumulated quite a lot. I can’t speak for medicines and manuals, but there are many treasures and riches, hidden in various places. Now, only I know their locations.”
Fan Xingjia, being straightforward, immediately showed respect for the wealthy.
Cai Zhao felt a bit sour. Her aunt Cai Pingzhu had viewed wealth as dirt, only collecting odd curiosities in her adventures. While valuable, these items couldn’t be easily converted to money.
Chang Haosheng was different. He was mature beyond his years and knew how to live well, accepting gold bricks, silver bars, pearls, and gems without hesitation—all this according to Ning Xiaofeng’s casual chats.
Chang Ning, enjoying Cai Zhao’s changing expressions, smiled, “Next time, I’ll buy you some hair ornaments, Junior Sister. Do you prefer eastern pearls, southern pearls, or jade?”
Cai Zhao snorted and turned away haughtily.
She wouldn’t bow for mere wealth. If pushed, she’d just open her rice shop.