When Song Qian Ji returned to his room to fetch his sword, he also brought along the talisman Chen Hong Zhu had given him.

His journey was smooth and unhindered. He encountered three patrol teams from the Disciplinary Hall, who initially stopped him for questioning, but quickly made way after seeing the red paper crane pinned to his lapel.

At the mountain gate, the disciples on duty also greeted him politely, watching as he walked beyond the gate archway.

Yet somehow their expressions became strange, with admiration mixed with sympathy.

As soon as Song Qian Ji’s figure disappeared, they eagerly gathered to gossip.

The night watch was dull and tedious, and finally having something fresh to relieve their fatigue gave them something to chat about all night:

“In the dead of night, what is he going out to do? Didn’t you ask?”

“He was carrying the Young Miss’s talisman, how could I dare to ask? Why didn’t you ask?”

“Ah, who says a man’s looks don’t matter? Those with good appearances truly have advantages in everything.”

Huawei Sect was located in Shangling County in the Western Continent.

Looking at the entire Western Continent, Huawei Sect dominated alone, like a towering giant tree with large leaves and deep roots. Countless mortal towns, kingdoms, and tribes depended on it.

Each affiliated territory had established temples for immortals, where commoners, under the leadership of the royal family or local immortal officials, regularly worshipped golden statues of Huawei Sect’s leader and peak masters, enhancing the sect’s fortunes.

“Huawei City” was just one of these places.

It was only a few miles from Huawei Mountain, and with the backing of this great tree, evil cultivators dared not invade. It was exceptionally prosperous, with a population reaching a million.

Walking in this mighty city on a spring night—a city without curfew where doors remained unlocked—even the night breeze became gentler and more intoxicating.

If Song Qian Ji had gone east in the city, he would have found dance pavilions and singing platforms lit as bright as day, perhaps encountering people like Zhao Ji Heng throwing away thousands of spirit stones, drunk among flowers and willows.

If he had gone south, he would have found gambling houses and money houses with boisterous shouts, where Xu Kan Shan and Qiu Da Cheng might be playing cards, placing bets, and pounding their chests in frustration.

But Song Qian Ji only went north.

The northern part of the city was an area of old streets.

People living there went to bed early. At night, occasional sounds were only of dogs barking, cats meowing, or children crying.

The wine shops, noodle houses, silk stores, and rouge shops along the street had already closed and locked up, leaving only a few half-worn wine banners fluttering in the wind.

The old alleys were narrow and long, intertwining like a spider’s web. Visitors new to the area, without a local guide, would inevitably hit dead ends and need a month of exploration to barely avoid getting lost.

But Song Qian Ji’s steps were sure, without hesitation.

He didn’t take a single wrong step, nor make a wrong turn.

The spring night was cool, the long street quiet.

The stone slabs, polished smooth by wind and rain, reflected Song Qian Ji’s long, slanting shadow.

He suddenly remembered that in his previous life, he had also walked this path at this very time.

Huawei Sect, as a great and dignified sect, had lost face when a small outer disciple killed someone within the sect and escaped from prison. They placed a bounty on his head throughout the entire cultivation world.

Song Qian Ji’s survival didn’t just depend on running; as a mere Qi Condensation cultivator who had just left the mountain, a small fish, how could he escape the search for high-level cultivators? He relied more on “hiding.”

He relied on meticulous observation and careful planning, on the oversights and arrogance of high-level cultivators.

He deliberately left clues suggesting he had fled the city, boldly doubled back, and concealed himself within Huawei City, disguising himself as an ugly, crippled beggar while desperately cultivating.

He knew all the dark alleys, small paths, and crawl spaces in Huawei City better than the night watchmen. He had engraved a map in his mind, constantly hypothesizing from which road enemies might appear, which path he should take, and where to flee for the quickest escape.

Although many years later, the cultivation world called him “Song Qian Ji Who Survived a Hundred Battles,” the first thing he learned was not to draw his sword and fight but to run for his life.

Revisiting old grounds, it happened to be a full moon.

Song Qian Ji carried his sword, basking in the moonlight as he strolled.

In this life, he would never need to run for his life again.

The old street was quiet and dark, with only one shop still lit.

Song Qian Ji stopped before the shop door, his eyes revealing a trace of nostalgia.

The four-character shop sign was peeling, with only the last two characters still discernible: “Pawnshop.”

Huawei City’s large pawnshops were all located near gambling houses.

This one was extremely small and old, with light as dim as a bean, the shopkeeper calculating on an abacus, the assistant swatting flies, and an old cat dozing.

Walking into the hall, directly opposite on the white wall hung a couplet that neither rhymed nor matched.

The upper line: Since ancient times, who hasn’t died?

The lower line: Money is external to the body.

The horizontal inscription read: Instant Wealth.

Song Qian Ji stood in the hall, and no one even greeted him. Only the cruel character for “death” from the couplet seemed to leap out at him.

For a pawnshop doing business, this place was truly unlucky and inauspicious.

“We have a customer!” Song Qian Ji called the assistant first. “I want to pawn something.”

“What do you want to pawn?” The old shopkeeper lifted his eyelids, slightly squinting as he appraised him.

“A sword.”

The old sword was slapped onto the long table with a crisp sound.

It startled the old cat napping under the window.

“Ten spirit stones, no bargaining.”

With a glance from the shopkeeper, the assistant went to the back to count out the spirit stones and stuffed them to the customer, with an expression that said “Take it or leave it.”

“Ten spirit stones, just enough to buy a zither,” Song Qian Ji said.

“How did you know we also sell zithers?” The assistant finally looked at him properly, exclaiming in surprise, “Wait, how did you know our zithers cost exactly ten stones? You’ve never been here before!”

“How do you know I’ve never been here?” Song Qian Ji smiled. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten.”

The young assistant wasn’t convinced: “Impossible! I have a photographic…”

“Too many words!” the shopkeeper snapped, glaring fiercely at his assistant. “Bring the zither.”

A zither was placed on the long table alongside the sword Song Qian Ji had brought.

Song Qian Ji picked it up, weighed it in his hands, and tried two notes.

The zither body was sturdy, the notes accurate, with seven strings forming a small amplification formation, perfect for a beginner in sound cultivation.

In the entire Huawei City, this was the best zither one could buy for ten spirit stones.

“No, this isn’t right,” Song Qian Ji frowned.

“What’s not right?” The young assistant was indignant. “I can tell with just one glance what zither suits you best! In our shop, there’s none more suitable for you than this one.”

The shopkeeper, annoyed by the assistant’s chattiness again, hit him on the head with the abacus.

“It’s not for me,” Song Qian Ji said. “It’s too heavy. Do you have something lighter?”

A heavy zither body might be too much for a thin woman to hold. Heavy strings also required more finger strength to produce sound.

“You’re buying a zither for someone else?” Both the shopkeeper’s and assistant’s expressions changed.

“Yes,” Song Qian Ji nodded.

“As a gift? For a female cultivator, right?” The old shopkeeper, who had been reluctant to speak until now, suddenly smiled with extreme warmth. “Why didn’t you say so earlier? Come, come sit down and chat. Xiao Zhuo, what are you standing there for? Make some tea for our guests. We have a business now. Look at this unfortunate child, no sense at all!”

The assistant Xiao Zhuo rolled his eyes and went to make tea.

Song Qian Ji: “No need to trouble yourself, I just want to buy a zither.”

“When buying a zither for a female cultivator, trouble is unavoidable,” the shopkeeper said with a smile.

Song Qian Ji thought, don’t try to fool me.

Because Miao Yan had bought more than one zither in his previous life.

Famous zithers were like famous swords, rare and precious.

He had once gone to great lengths to find ten scrolls of rare ancient scores and a legendary zither called “Primordial Echo” that had disappeared from the world, to gift to Miao Yan as a betrothal gift.

Ten exquisite sandalwood boxes were brought out and arranged in a row. The assistant opened them, releasing a burst of brilliance.

Some zithers had golden phoenixes painted on them, some were adorned with pearls, some were carved with patterns, and some were inlaid with bright jewels…

The shabby little pawnshop was instantly filled with golden splendor and flowing colors.

“Do you have any favorites?” the shopkeeper asked. “If this batch isn’t suitable, we have more.”

“I just want an ordinary one, as long as it’s lighter,” Song Qian Ji said.

“Impossible! A zither given to a female cultivator can’t be ordinary—that would be embarrassing. We don’t do that,” the shopkeeper waved his hands repeatedly.

Song Qian Ji glanced at the wooden price tags on the zither boxes and felt dizzy:

“With such high prices, can you sell these? This isn’t the Celestial Sound Sect—there can’t be many female cultivators who play the zither in the city!”

The shopkeeper showed no shame, saying candidly: “Even if female cultivators can’t afford them, there will always be people like you who will pay. That’s why women’s money is always easier to earn than men’s.”

Song Qian Ji couldn’t refute: “…That makes sense.”

The shopkeeper was very pleased: “Anyone who doesn’t understand this principle can’t do big business! Leave this sword, and for a zither worth 220, I’ll charge you just 200. How about that?”

He took Song Qian Ji for a fool, trying to fleece him.

Song Qian Ji shook his head: “I have no money.”

“No money?!” The shopkeeper’s face changed instantly. “Without money, how can you buy gifts? Without money, how can you pursue a female cultivator?”

Song Qian Ji didn’t bother to explain, retrieved his sword, and rose to leave.

The shopkeeper called after him: “If you can’t even afford a zither, you’ll never have a dao companion!”

Song Qian Ji thought, pah, in my previous life I gave the best zither in the world, and still had no dao companion.

“Let him be. It’s not like he absolutely must buy it,” Assistant Xiao Zhuo smiled, as if pleased that the shopkeeper’s business deal had fallen through. His words of persuasion lacked sincerity: “Looking at his demeanor, it’s clear that nothing in this world is important to him. A mere dao companion is hardly worth mentioning.”

Song Qian Ji’s left foot had already crossed the threshold when he suddenly remembered the bean pod seedlings and balsam flowers at his doorway, drooping from the crying.

How could one live in this world without a few cherished possessions? What right did a black shop assistant have to say he had none?

He turned back and walked directly to the old shopkeeper: “I have no money, but I want to buy a zither.”

Since he had already come, he should make one more effort for the vegetable garden at his door.

The shopkeeper laughed in anger: “You’re not thinking of robbing us, are you? Don’t you know what kind of place this is? I thought you were someone who knew the rules…”

“I want to go downstairs,” Song Qian Ji said.

The shopkeeper’s mocking laughter stopped abruptly. The plump old cat whimpered and ran out of sight.

Xiao Zhuo jumped up like a startled bird and slammed the shop door shut with a bang.

“I want to go downstairs,” Song Qian Ji repeated.

“Where do you come from?” the shopkeeper asked.

Song Qian Ji’s expression remained unchanged: “Don’t ask about origins!”

“Where are you going?”

“Don’t ask about destinations!”

“The goods aren’t clean; there might be trouble.”

“Don’t ask about life or death!” Song Qian Ji answered finally.

“Very well, please!”

The aged shopkeeper’s eyes flashed with a sharp light, as the pressure of a Golden Core cultivator subtly leaked out.

The young assistant stood with a straight back, revealing himself to be a Foundation Establishment cultivator.

The wall with the inauspicious couplet suddenly parted silently, revealing a deep entrance.

The spring breeze blew the wine banners on the street, but couldn’t enter the wide-open windows of the pawnshop.

At some point, this place had fallen into a formation, its energies sealed, like a pool of dead water.

This had always been an underground black shop.

This scene was enough to frighten most people.

But for the rogue cultivator Song Qian Ji, visiting black shops was like returning home.

He walked into the dark depths, familiar with the way.

There were six similar black shops in the cultivation world. The Huawei City pawnshop was just one of them, while others were disguised as grain shops, rouge shops, meat shops, and so on.

Once you “went downstairs” in the shop, the buyer wouldn’t ask about the seller’s identity, and the seller wouldn’t ask whom they were selling to or for what purpose.

It was most suitable for fencing stolen goods, dividing spoils, and illicit trading. This had provided great convenience for Song Qian Ji in his previous life, but even until his exile to the snowy wilderness, he never knew who was behind the black shops. He only vaguely guessed it might be a powerful cultivator who had already perished.

Though the person was gone, his subordinates still loyally maintained his legacy as a way to honor his memory.

*****

The round moon hung on the branches of a peach blossom tree, casting sifted shadows on the courtyard wall, creating a dappled pattern.

He Qing Qing sat hugging her knees at the entrance to the courtyard. As the night deepened, the night breeze grew colder. She couldn’t help but shiver slightly.

She wiped her face, discovering that her tear tracks had completely dried, her fingertips colder than her cheeks.

She hadn’t cried for a long time.

When girls cry, they are like celestial maidens shedding tears, like pear blossoms in the rain, saddening all who see, arousing pity.

When she cried, it was heart-wrenching and bloody; others who saw would only feel horror, and the timid would have nightmares at night.

The chirping of insects in the grass was lively, making the night feel even more lonely.

Cold and hungry, He Qing Qing couldn’t help wondering if that person would return.

Was he just toying with her? If he truly was, then… then it didn’t matter. She was used to it anyway.

She could tell that he was highly respected in Huawei Sect’s outer division, revered by many, probably like Senior Brother Ziye in Qingya Academy.

She was in the mud, while they were in the heavens. Hearts naturally didn’t connect, especially when the gap between clouds and mud was so vast.

At the end of the small path, flowers swayed, and suddenly footsteps sounded as a figure walked from afar.

“Song…” He Qing Qing rose abruptly, but when she saw who it was, the light in her eyes extinguished again.

The arrival was a woman in red.

Her skirt fluttered, brilliantly beautiful, like a torch, almost illuminating the night.

He Qing Qing both admired and feared this, not daring to look more, lowering her head, and waiting for the other to pass.

However, the other was not passing by, but walked directly toward her, stopping only when they were three steps apart, very intimidating.

“Who are you?” the woman in red asked.

Her tone was like that of a host questioning an uninvited guest who had trespassed into their hall.

“Qingya Academy, He Qing Qing.” The white-robed young woman curtseyed, saying softly, “Greetings, Daoist friend.”

The next question should have been what she was doing there, but Chen Hong Zhu suddenly couldn’t ask.

She felt that the name He Qing Qing was strangely familiar.

She had walked past all twenty households around Song Courtyard.

During the day, no one had told her Song Qian Ji’s whereabouts.

It was only because of the tracking talisman’s movement that she knew Song Qian Ji had gone down the mountain at night. She had to interrogate the Steward Hall to learn what had happened during the day: those six from Qingya had come to provoke trouble, bringing a female cultivator with an unusual appearance to try to stimulate Song Qian Ji, only to be frightened away instead.

As for the twenty households she had developed as informants, they had placed the spirit stones and communication talismans she had given them at their courtyard doors, without sending a single message.

Their attitude couldn’t be clearer—they were unwilling to act as informants anymore, even for profit, even if concealing information might result in a whipping.

It was the first time Chen Hong Zhu’s words didn’t have effect in Huawei Sect. She thought she would be furious, but curiosity outweighed anger.

She could have kicked open the doors of those twenty households, dragged out those ungrateful outer disciples, and given them a severe lashing. But she didn’t.

She genuinely felt perplexed about why things always went awry when it came to Song Qian Ji.

When fear and the whip could no longer intimidate hearts, when enticement and spirit stones lost their effectiveness—it was enough to make her hair stand on end.

Although the outer division was low, it was the foundation supporting a behemoth like Huawei Sect.

Outer disciples should be the most obedient, the easiest to manage—just give them a bit of hope, and they would fight desperately, contributing blood and sweat to the sect.

If there were not just one Song Qian Ji, but thousands or tens of thousands…

Could Huawei Sect’s control over outer disciples, affiliated countries, and all lower-level cultivators in the Western Continent remain stable?

She was, after all, the daughter of Sect Leader Xuyun. Today’s events suddenly made her realize that rule maintained through fear would inevitably be defeated by dignity.

In the outer division, no one truly respected her, yet people respected Song Qian Ji.

Fortunately, there was only one Song Qian Ji, not a teacher at an academy, currently only able to influence a batch of outer disciples.

Thinking of the academy, Chen Hong Zhu remembered how she and her senior brother had gone to receive the principal and supervisor from Qingya Academy that day.

Even the supervisor Ziye Wenshu, such an extraordinary genius, had to maintain a perpetual deadpan face, strictly disciplining himself and leading by example, to maintain his prestige in front of others and earn genuine respect from the academy’s students.

Why could Song Qian Ji achieve the same by simply farming, watering flowers, and eating noodles every day?

If Ziye Wenshu knew about this, wouldn’t he die of anger?

Chen Hong Zhu’s thoughts wandered, and at this point, a flash of insight suddenly struck her mind.

She stared at He Qing Qing, her gaze seeming to pierce through the thin gauze:

“Are you that girl Ziye Wenshu brought back after his lone venture into the Western Sea Demon’s Lair?”

He Qing Qing’s body trembled.

Before becoming the academy supervisor, Ziye Wenshu had already made a name in the cultivation world.

Every disciple of the academy could recite by heart the story of how, at sixteen, he had single-handedly ventured into the Western Sea Demon’s Lair, killed the insect demon, and rescued innocent commoners who had been used as insect vessels.

That story was thrilling and exciting—how Senior Brother Supervisor, with an early Golden Core cultivation, had defeated an evil cultivator at the Nascent Soul stage, thus becoming famous in a single battle.

In reality, that battle had been fierce and devastating, with widespread impact, and among the rescued mortals, only one survived in the end.

A twelve-year-old little girl.

Ziye Wenshu had sent her to Qingya Academy with just a word, a mere greeting.

Then he continued his travels across the four continents, writing more legendary stories.

By the time he returned, he had forgotten about this matter.

He Qing Qing, as living proof of this story, with scars on her face as evidence of the evil cultivator’s malice, had fortunately entered Qingya Academy, stumbling into the door of the cultivation world.

Year after year, whenever someone mentioned the supervisor’s legend or Qingya Academy’s virtue in sheltering victims, they would bring her out for display.

Everyone told her she should be grateful.

He Qing Qing often felt guilty and pained because she couldn’t feel gratitude.

She could only endure.

But sometimes, the more you retreat, the more you tolerate, the more afraid you are of trouble, and the more people will bully you.

“I am,” she heard herself admit with difficulty.

She was very afraid that the other would, like every female student at the academy, ask her curiously and excitedly about Ziye Wenshu.

She didn’t know anything and couldn’t answer. And from her experience, no matter what she answered, it would be wrong.

But the young woman in red said: “I am Chen Hong Zhu. Do you recognize me?”

He Qing Qing was surprised.

The only daughter of Huawei Sect’s leader. People called her Young Miss of Huawei, the Grand Princess.

To think that she would encounter her in the dead of night, speaking face to face for so long.

“What are you doing here?” Chen Hong Zhu asked.

The question returned to where their meeting began.

“Daoist Friend Song told me to wait for him here,” He Qing Qing answered.

For some reason, a nameless anger ignited in Chen Hong Zhu’s heart.

“Why did he ask you to wait?”

“I don’t know. I was crying here earlier, he came out to see me, then told me not to move at all, to wait for him to return.” He Qing Qing’s voice grew increasingly soft. “Senior Brother Song is a good person.”

Chen Hong Zhu thought I don’t need an outsider to tell me what kind of person my disciple is.

“Ha, you think his temper is good? He seems easy to talk to, but has the most stubborn nature, the hardest bones, immovable by soft or hard approaches!”

Chen Hong Zhu recalled how she had firmly hit brick walls three times with Song Qian Ji, frowning as she laughed coldly.

“He probably just found your crying annoying and left to practice his sword!”

“I-I believe him. He told me to wait, so I will wait.” As soon as the words left He Qing Qing’s mouth, she startled herself.

This was the first time she had contradicted someone. And it was someone of Chen Hong Zhu’s status.

Yet it wasn’t for herself, but to prove that Song Qian Ji kept his word.

“I bet he won’t return tonight,” Chen Hong Zhu arranged her skirt and sat on the ground. “I’ll wait too.”

The two young women sat side by side on the stone steps before the courtyard gate.

Red clothes like fire, white clothes like frost.

Gazing at the same bright moon, thinking of different matters.

Chen Hong Zhu thought, that if the Huawei Sect is to last for thousands of generations, people like Song Qian Ji must not multiply.

He Qing Qing thought, if Senior Brother Song truly doesn’t return, I won’t blame him. Someone like him—meeting once should be enough to be thankful for.

The mountain moon knew nothing of the matters in their hearts.