Li Yun tripped on the doorstep of Cheng Qian’s room, the pile of worn books nearly flying out of his hands. But before he could exclaim in surprise, someone else in the room had done that for him—inside the room, Cheng Qian held a needle and was pricking the blisters on Yan Zhengming’s hands one after the other.

Cheng Qian’s moves were very neat. Insert the needle, slightly shake it, pinch the blister, and then it was done. Cheng Qian deftly and swiftly repeated the routine, tormenting his delicate Sect Leader Senior Brother and making him holler in pain, “Be gentle! Cheng Qian, what were you, a porter!? Ah—” ¹

“No. I was probably a pig butcher,” said Cheng Qian apathetically.

“Show some fraternal respect… Ouch!” Yan Zhengming almost shot off the chair. “Who gives a damn about the sword, I am not practicing anymore!”

Li Yun hurriedly closed the door tight, in case the last bit of dignity of Fuyao Sect be lost.

For the very first time, Young Master Yan… I mean, Sect Leader Yan, got blisters from practicing swordplay. He suffered for it. Thus he spewed a string of swear words, not giving a damn that he lost his face in front of his young junior brothers.

In the corner, Han Yuan observed Yan Zhengming with trepidation, looking as though the Fuyao Wooden Swordplay had left some shadows in his heart.

“I just came across this,” explained Li Yun, spreading out the pile of books on the desk while trying to ignore the Sect Leader’s howl of pain. “They are the annals of Azure Dragon Island, in which are recorded several major events regarding every renowned sect through the years. Some of them mentioned us.”

“Mentioned us? What does it say?” asked Han Yuan, craning his neck.

“The earliest record is dated to the establishment of Azure Dragon Island. An elder of Fuyao Sect along with two disciples came to extend congratulations on behalf of the sect leader,” Li Yun said. “His name was mentioned as the very first among the list of guests, which seemed quite honored…”

Yan Zhengming hissed from a prick and dismissed Li Yun’s words with a wave of his hand. “Skip the prosperity in early days and jump to the part where we began to peter out.”

Li Yun returned to flipping the pages. “As I recall… Oh, here it is. For some reason, after returning from the Celestial Market, the sixth sect leader of Fuyao Sect suddenly announced that he was going to simplify the sect, and that only two disciples were allowed for each person. His successor, however, abolished this rule and accepted a total of eighteen disciples. These disciples fought and schemed against each other, and as a result, few people survived the competition for the position of the sect leader. That’s when the sect gradually anguished.”

“Really?” As he asked, Yan Zhengming took out the Sect Leader’s Seal. “Anyone of you wants this? Just take it away. I don’t want these hardships, I’m going to pack up and go home.”

Nobody paid any attention to him.

Li Yun buried himself in those musty old books, leafing through them as he said, “I assume that that’s the time when the sect rules changed to forbid internal strife. And after that… our sect produced quite a few demonic cultivators, including even two Lord Beimings…”

“Three,” Cheng Qian corrected him.

Li Yun sighed, “Alright, three then—but what’s even worse, the annals also recorded a senior of our sect who was a devout believer of astrology. He saw all cultivation methods and sword techniques as trifling skills and taught his disciples nothing but astrology. In his generation, even the Fuyao Wooden Swordplay was nearly lost. There was another senior who was keen on traveling. It’s said that during his time at the helm, his last disciple had only met him once in his entire life… But the one who had hid Fuyao Sect from people’s sight in the real sense was in fact our Martial Grandfather. But there aren’t many accounts about him. It only mentioned that he was always in  secluded cultivation and kept to himself. Every time the Celestial Market opened, he’d send Master and… you-know-who here.”

Speaking of which, Li Yun lifted his head and said, “I say, Fuyao Sect had actually been at the head of the Top Ten Sects back then, despite all that.”

Yan Zhengming was defeated. “Now I see. Our sect had a distant origin, a long development, and abounded in demonic cultivators and all types of freaks. What kind of illustrious sect are we? —as far as I am concerned, the reason why our sect can struggle on till today was probably because some worried ancestor was blessing us in Heaven.”

“What shall we do then? Pack up and go home?” asked Han Yuan tactlessly.

Cheng Qian and Li Yun glared at him at the same time.

“I wasn’t the first one to say that. It was First Senior Brother!” screamed Han Yuan, feeling unjustly treated.

 

“Just now I was summoned by the Lord of Azure Dragon Island; he invited us to stay here for some time,” announced Yan Zhengming slowly as he leaned against a table. “He said there will be lectures after the Celestial Market and that he had kept seats for us.”

“How long is ‘some time’? Are we not going back to Fuyao Mountain?” asked Li Yun, somewhat antsy.

“I’m not sure,” said Yan Zhengming with biting sarcasm. “That Tang Zhenren looks like she has been a beggar for two or three decades, yet they still say that she has only traveled outside for ‘some time’.”

Li Yun unconsciously nibbled his fingers and said, “But I heard that the lord of the island had retired from society for a long time. Why would he suddenly want us to stay?”

Yan Zhengming said, “I don’t know. It’s said that he and Master have got history.”

For years, Yan Zhengming had secluded himself on the mountain and was hence unworldly. In addition, Master’s exhortations before leaving the mountain just ran off him like water off a duck’s back. So at this moment, Yan Zhengming basically knew next to nothing and dared not to consult others. Meanwhile, there were so many things running over his head that after this period of time, he was utterly fatigued both mentally and physically.

“Copper Coin.” Yan Zhengming gave Cheng Qian a kick. “Put down your burin and raise your head and say something.”

That move interrupted Cheng Qian and dispersed the qi around his hand, causing the talisman to turn to scrap.

Cheng Qian frugally switched to an ordinary burin and shaved off the notches on the talisman, saying insipidly, “Say what?”

Since he broke out of the Worriless Valley with Puddle, Cheng Qian had done nothing but practice swordsmanship and cultivate. Whenever someone came to him, there was sure to be either a wooden sword or burin in his hand.

Because of that, Yan Zhengming had tried several times to stop him, nearly getting into a fight over it, but Cheng Qian simply didn’t take it seriously.

Only then did Yan Zhengming realize how helpless Master had felt for them when he was alive.

Cheng Qian cleaned up the wood shavings and unhurriedly said, “Do we have anything that others would covet? Sect leader senior brother’s beauty? Don’t flatter yourself.”

His stiff and cold words dejected his martial brothers and effectively terminated this brief meeting. Li Yun and Yan Zhengming exchanged a glance of resignation, not knowing what they should do with this third junior brother. After all, neither of them had witnessed Master’s death.

Yan Zhengming signalled Li Yun with a wink. Li Yun took the hint and left with Han Yuan.

Yan Zhengming, on the other hand, stayed in Cheng Qian’s room. He casually picked out a book of the latest record about Fuyao Sect and started reading it silently by Cheng Qian’s side. Both of them paid no attention to each other until dusk, when Xueqing came in with a lunch box. Xueqing took a surprised look at Yan Zhengming, who was still reluctant to leave. “Young… Sect Leader.”

“Bring my things over, I’ll live here for a few days,” ordered Yan Zhengming with perfect composure, disregarding Cheng Qian’s expression which seemed to be saying, ‘Why haven’t you gotten lost?’

Cheng Qian’s indifferent face began to crack.

Without consulting with Cheng Qian, Yan Zhengming said directly to Xueqing, “I’m afraid he’ll take Master’s death too hard, so I’ll stay here to watch him a few days.”

Cheng Qian had a constipated look on his face. After a moment, he squeezed a sentence out of his mouth with great effort, “Senior Brother, you worry too much. I’m quite good.”

“What I say goes.” Yan Zhengming turned him down tersely and stood up to move about under Cheng Qian’s scared gaze. He was prepared to give Cheng Qian a ‘great time’.

Plainly, Yan Zhengming had mastered the knack of being a sect leader—when it came to practicing swordsmanship, he would kick up a row, shouting that he’d quit and go home, but when he wanted to throw his weight around, he’d then think of the Sect Leader’s Seal.

“Call some men in, by the way,” said Yan Zhengming. “And get the floor cleaned. Can’t you see the hairs—also, move my censer over and tell Yue-er to prepare the incense.”

Before Cheng Qian could say anything, Yan Zhengming had finished the whole process of appropriating Cheng Qian’s room as his own. Then he threw Cheng Qian by the dinner table and demanded, “Get ready to eat.”

Cheng Qian silently reached out his hand to pick up the chopsticks. But before he could touch them, Yan Zhengming slapped his hand away.

“Wash hands.” Yan Zhengming frowned.

Since Taoist children were still in the room, Cheng Qian didn’t want to defy his first senior brother, who recently became the sect leader, in front of them. So after staring at Yan Zhengming for a few seconds, Cheng Qian dipped his hands in the basin and reached out again to take the teacup.

And was slapped by Yan Zhengming a second time.

Yan Zhengming: “Drinking tea before the meal? What’s wrong with you?”

Cheng Qian: “…”

He had a feeling that this day wouldn’t end well.

“Begin with cold dishes. How can you alternate cold dishes with hot ones?”

“Who asked you to serve desserts when the meal is not finished?”

“What? You use the same bowl to have rice and soup?”

“Are you kidding me? This eggplant isn’t peeled!? Are unpeeled eggplants really fit for human consumption?”

Cheng Qian came to the end of his endurance. He plopped the chopsticks on the table and stood up to leave.

“What are you going to do?” asked Yan Zhengming, unable to make heads or tail of his move.

“I don’t feel good, and I can’t even swallow food,” Cheng Qian said. “I’m going to practice swordplay in the backyard.”

Every morning and evening, Cheng Qian would practice swordplay for two hours without fail. But today he felt that two hours were not enough. He wanted to practice for the whole night.

Once he was tired out and felt compelled to go back, he found that his room had been changed to the Gossamer Cave² by first senior brother.

And the evil sitting inside the Gossamer Cave wouldn’t let him in. “Go take a bath. Do you want to sleep with this sweat?”

Cheng Qian’s expression told Yan Zhengming that yes, that was what he had been thinking of doing and what he had always done before. Therefore, Young Master Yan turned around and called in Xueqing right away, “Get me a new sheet!”

 

After Xueqing left, Cheng Qian shouted to him, “Can’t you just go back to your own place?”

Yan Zhengming: “No. Just look at you. I have to watch over you these days—do you practice swordplay this late every day?”

A blue vein stood out on Cheng Qian’s forehead. Neglecting Yan Zhengming’s question, he said, “I won’t sleep with you!”

“You think I want to sleep with you?” Yan Zhengming fumed. “Even a chopping board is softer than your bed!”

Cheng Qian turned to leave. “Fine. I’ll go sleep on the chopping board in the kitchen. Sect Leader Senior Brother, please do as you like.”

Yan Zhengming shouted to the baffled Taoist boys standing outside the door, “Take him down!”

Cheng Qian always treated others—even the Taoist children from Fuyao Mountain—in a slightly distant and urbane manner, so he surely wouldn’t get into a fight with these innocent bystanders. Hence, Yan Zhengming got his way.

The brocade quilt brought from the Land of the Tender caused Cheng Qian to sneeze so hard that his eyes streamed tears. Yan Zhengming threw a handkerchief at him with a disgusted look and said with a frown, “Is there anything wrong with your nose?”

Cheng Qian picked that handkerchief up with two fingers, stretched out his arm, and tossed it away. Then he produced a book about the taboos on charms, saying, “I think it’s your brain that is wrong.”

Yan Zhengming spread the quilt over Cheng Qian’s face and grabbed the book. “Sleep.”

Cheng Qian: “Give it back!”

As such, they started tussling over the book and banished all thoughts of sleep.

An intact Taboos on Charms came within an inch of being torn apart. In the end, Cheng Qian loosened his grip out of care for the book while Yan Zhengming took advantage of that, threw aside the book, and put out the light.

Cheng Qian resentfully ground his teeth in the darkness and tucked himself in under the quilt—out of sight, out of mind.

The winner, Yan Zhengming, crossed his hands behind his head. His sense of triumph was soon in and soon out. Cheng Qian gave him the cold shoulder and Yan Zhengming just lay flat in the bed, staring vacantly at the bed curtain.

It was a long time before Yan Zhengming’s voice suddenly ruffled the silence, “Now I know what it feels like to tread on thin ice and to stand on the edge of an abyss.”

Cheng Qian tucked himself in the quilt, saying nothing. Perhaps for him, Yan Zhengming was exactly the vexing “abyss” for the moment.

Yan Zhengming became reticent before he went on speaking to himself, “After the Celestial Market, there’ll be lectures. Many rogue cultivators³ would seize the opportunity and come for advanced study. Second and fourth junior brothers haven’t crossed the threshold of absorbing qi, so I am considering staying. To lay foundations at least… we can’t just go back to Fuyao Mountain without any skills.”

Just how ridiculous it was, to think that they had to audit others’ lectures to learn some trifling skills in the same way that rootless rogue cultivators did, despite Fuyao Sect being a decent sect.

“I have promised the lord of the island to stay, but I didn’t mean to depend on Azure Dragon Island,” Yan Zhengming paused and then added, as though to convince somebody, “Really.”

Cheng Qian had poked his head out of the quilt without Yan Zhengming noticing when, his face sideways and looking at his senior brother in silence.

Cheng Qian still had an immature visage, but the eyes on his pinched face radiated a staunch gaze embellished with childish brightness and innocence.

‘What was I doing when I was at his age?’ Yan Zhengming thought to himself.

Looking at Cheng Qian, he felt torn and sorry, and words just popped out of his mouth in an uncontrolled manner, “Ten years, in at most ten years, we’ll go back.”

But he regretted it as soon as he finished that. Yan Zhengming turned his head back with a painful mood, not looking at Cheng Qian anymore, and swiftly went back on his words. “I was just saying. It wouldn’t be better if we can, but never mind if we failed. Don’t get your hopes up.”

‘… Fine. He’s only reliable when pigs fly,’ Cheng Qian thought.

Sometimes, one person or some people might be undergoing upheavals, but time stops for no one, and the world continues moving on and on.

While these young boys were anxiously seeking their way out, the Celestial Market opened as scheduled.

The so-called “Celestial Market” on Azure Dragon Island was actually a very grand decennial exposition, and a ten-li-long street had been devoted to trade in pills, talismans, magic tools, manuals, and so on. Each sect would send their younger generations to come to make friends with like-minded people, and those disciples who were old enough to travel by themselves could even choose to go in a group after the Celestial Market rounded off.

On top of that, the key focus was nothing other than the “Azure Dragon Competition” which was long waited by every rogue cultivator across the country.

The lecture hall of Azure Dragon Island was the most admired place by innumerable rogue cultivators. Cultivators, even mortals, who failed to make their way into a prominent organization would come here to take a chance, hoping to receive guidance from a great teacher so that they could embark on the true path of cultivation.

Those lucky enough to rise above the common herd might even be accepted into Azure Dragon Island, even though they wouldn’t be counted as a full disciple. But to say the least, with years spent in the lecture hall, one would definitely acquire some basic skills which would confer him the ability to seek his fortune on his own travel.

Unfortunately, due to the limited capacity of the lecture hall, after going through rounds of elimination, only one to two percent of all enrollees would be able to stay.

But in Fuyao Sect’s case, the Lord of Azure Dragon Island obviously opened the back door for them; otherwise, these kids might not necessarily survive the elimination of the Azure Dragon Competition.

At Han Yuan’s instigation, the disciples of Fuyao Sect decided to go to the Celestial Market and have some fun.

The market was interesting. Many mortals mixed with the crowd and couldn’t be told apart from cultivators at first glance. But Yan Zhengming soon found that the way they communicated or traded was entirely different—only mortals would use currency while cultivators did barters.

Even if Yan Zhengming were carrying hundreds of thousands of paper money with him, he could buy nothing but mortal things at the Celestial Market. Don’t even think about those magic tools.

The Azure Dragon Competition was held on the Azure Dragon Platform at the end of the street.

The Azure Dragon Platform only covered an area of three or four Zhang square, but there seemed to be a certain charm cast on it—once you stepped onto it, the platform would look so boundless that it was even able to contain illusions of high mountains, great rivers and vast oceans. Tang Wanqiu and some other cultivators stood in a circle around the platform, perhaps to preserve order.

Any cultivator confident in himself could jump onto the platform to have an open fight with someone else, while those who hadn’t crossed the threshold of cultivation might pick an illusion to test his own conduct, willpower, aptitude, and so on.

For the sake of fairness, everybody was allowed to spectate.

When Yan Zhengming and his junior brothers managed to find themselves seats in a nearby teahouse, two cultivators were in combat, each using a saber and a sword respectively. Unlike the battle against Jiang Peng on the sea, in a competition of this level, every single move on both sides could be clearly seen.

The swordsman’s moves were very fancy with agileness which embodied his hard work. But once the fanciness went past a certain point, it appeared redundant. After two or three hundred clashes, the unimpressive saber wielder suddenly spotted his opponent’s weak point. He pressed his saber ahead with a jolt, jerking it upward and hitting the swordsman’s sword into the air with a clang.

The spectators around gave cheers.

“First Senior Brother, when can we use real swords?” asked Han Yuan with admiration.

“When you won’t drop your wooden sword on your feet,” said Yan Zhengming as he stared fixedly at the platform.

Cheng Qian chuckled by his side and then said to Han Yuan, “Master said that the swordplay of our sect is different from the rest; we’ll have to wait some years.”

With that, he remembered the wooden sword which had been held steadily in Master’s hand on that stormy day and couldn’t help but append, “Besides, as long as your moves embody the sword will, wooden swords are not necessarily inferior to iron swords…”

Before Cheng Qian could finish his words, Li Yun suddenly pulled him and warned him in a low voice, “Xiao-Qian, stop talking nonsense!”

Cheng Qian was confused. He raised his head and saw a swarthy man in the next seat looking at him coldly.

Cheng Qian had no clue what was wrong. Upon their gazes meeting, that man stood up and overlooked Cheng Qian as he said, “Wooden swords are not necessarily inferior to iron swords—you must have profound understandings on the Tao of the sword, little brother?”

Just then, the rogue cultivator who had lost just now came down from the Azure Dragon Platform and walked to the side of the black man, calling, “Brother.”

Cheng Qian latched on to what was going on right away. He thought this was really strange. This guy was directing his anger at him for his own brother’s defeat?

Evidently, Han Yuan felt the same as he did on this point. The little beggar hated his little senior brother being offended and advanced right away, a mouthful of swear words on the tip of his tongue.

But before he could spout them out, Li Yun had swiftly grabbed him. “Don’t stir up trouble!”

Yan Zhengming stuck his arm out in front of the grudging Cheng Qian and made a lazy obeisance to the other side, saying, “This kid is talking irresponsibly, he would even say a coal ball is white. You may just laugh that off, brother.”

Li Yun felt a spurt of fatigue after he heard first senior brother talk about a coal ball before an actual piece of black charcoal. He knew that first senior brother had intended to be a peacemaker, but the words somehow sounded like a provocation after they went through Yan Zhengming’s mouth.

A born nuisance—what a special talent!

That swarthy man’s face went darker as expected. His defeated brother whispered to him, and a few seconds later, his eyes settled on the wooden sword in Cheng Qian’s hand.

Then he snorted, “What? ‘Fuyāo’ (place the hand on the waist) Sect? I’ve never heard of such. I don’t think there’s a need to enter the lecture hall now, since any nobody is able to get in using their connections. Perhaps the Azure Dragon Competition’s fame is overblown, just to cheat fools like you who don’t know the truth!”

Tang Wanqiu, who was standing by the Azure Dragon Platform keeping the law, had obviously heard that, and her visage immediately changed as though storms were coming. But since she dared not abandon her duty without permission, all she could do was shoot stabbing glances at that black charcoal and the disciples of Fuyao Sect. She probably wanted to kick all of them out of here.

Yan Zhengming wasn’t bothered by his words at all. He thought, ‘He’s speaking ill of the Azure Dragon Island anyway, what does it matter to me?’

Thus he sneered and lifted his foot to leave.

Cheng Qian wasn’t so unthinking as him. He had noticed Tang Wanqiu’s face change.

Although the black charcoal had spoken rudely of Azure Dragon Island, the trouble was ultimately caused by them. Many people had initially borne strong resentment against them, as the lord of the island had summoned them several times. If they left as though nothing had happened at this point, those people would most likely give them a hard time in the future.

Yan Zhengming: “Xiao-Qian, time to go.”

Cheng Qian turned a deaf ear to him and remained in place. Flicking his fingers across the edge of his wooden sword, he slowly said, “Oh? So you mean, this brother who was disarmed… must have some genuine abilities?”

 

The light gradually broke through the clouds and cleared away the fog in the valley.

Cheng Qian didn’t know how long he’d remained on his knees, nor did he know how he should pick himself up or even where he should go.

Inside his brain were flashbacks of his master sheltering him from the rain, his head-wagging chant, and the Fuyao Wooden Swordplay. Those sword moves just kept repeating in his head, whether he wanted to watch or not.

And in the end, all that was left was the numbness and helplessness which came from the loss of a loved one.

Cheng Qian was like a little bird that had come back from its first attempt at flying and joyfully wanted to be praised, only to find that the nest was gone. From this day on, he would never receive that praise he had yearned for, even if, someday, he became an exceptional master of his abilities.

Cheng Qian did not want to admit his fright. It was only loneliness, he thought.

It was not until this moment that Cheng Qian felt deep in his core that he needed an enemy, something that, for the next decade, the decades after that, or even for the rest of his life, would give him some kind of clear and strong direction, and let him draw from this hatred an inexhaustible strength that would anchor him, unswervingly, to his course.

Sadly, he didn’t have one.

His master had seen through him. He’d anticipated what Cheng Qian would instinctually do in a time of helplessness, so he didn’t give Cheng Qian any chance.

Not a single word had slipped his mouth regarding the entanglements between him, Jiang Peng, the nameless Lord Beiming, and the Four Saints. He’d buried all those stories in the earth along with that copper coin, leaving not even a seed of hatred for Cheng Qian, thus forcing him to throw away everything he could possibly rely on to pick himself up after crying.

At the same time, however, Muchun Zhenren did leave a little tail to him—his junior sister who was howling until she was out of breath.

With Puddle’s current intelligence, she couldn’t quite comprehend what had just happened. She was famished, so she looked around for her master but couldn’t find him. There was only her senior brother who didn’t pay attention to her at all.

Though she might be a sturdy child without a demanding temper, she could no longer hold back her hunger, and so she cried. But she soon discovered that her cry didn’t work; therefore, she switched to gnawing on the wooden sword created by her master.

When Cheng Qian finally thought of his junior sister, she had dug several pits in the wooden sword using her only five milk teeth.

They were truly milk teeth worthy of the Heavenly Monster!

Cheng Qian teetered, and he picked himself up by pressing on his knees. Then he forced apart Puddle’s mouth with his hands. “Spit it out!”

“Ah ah!” Puddle spat out two chips of wood at him.

After that, she was carried to a riverside by her senior brother and was forced to rinse her mouth. It was Puddle’s first time seeing her third senior brother’s exasperated side. Then she threw a tantrum.

Cheng Qian shot a fierce glance at her. “Stop crying.”

“Ah ah ah!” Puddle screamed in protest.

Cheng Qian just passively let her cry and stared at her with a steady gaze.

Puddle cried for a while by his side. Then she found that there was no use in crying like that at all. She didn’t know where Master had gone. Since it was just the two of them, she didn’t even have anyone to whom she could tattle on her senior brother. Therefore, she ceased to sob and sat there silently, hoping that her third senior brother’s conscience would have him find some food for her.

Even a fatty worm would also do!

Cheng Qian rescued the wooden sword whose edge had been bitten from Puddle’s teeth and washed it clean in the water. He was not in the mood to coax the child to not cry, so he just placed her by the river and warned her seriously, “Sit still, don’t move.”

With that, he rolled his trousers up to his knees and fumbled to catch fish.

Puddle had one merit, and that was that she knew how to act when it came to her own benefit. She quickly saw the prospect of a meal from Cheng Qian’s actions, so she sat quietly by the riverside like a well-trained dog.

However, fish were not so easy to catch. Cheng Qian had never played around when he was at home, let alone after he had gone to Fuyao Sect. So he was truly bad at such activities. Every time those scaly creatures slipped away from his hands, and would occasionally whip their tails, leaving a few lacerations on Cheng Qian’s hands.

The day was getting dark. Eventually, Puddle couldn’t wait anymore. She curled up and fell asleep with a finger in her mouth, feeling thirsty and hungry.

Standing barefoot in the cold water, Cheng Qian took a look at her. He straightened up his sore back and licked the wounds on his hands.

Master had said that one day he’d be able to soar up to the sky and dive into the sea. But the cruel fact was that he couldn’t even catch a fish.

He didn’t know what plants in the Worriless Valley were poisonous, so he dared not to pick the fruits and leaves. He didn’t have the courage to provoke those beasts either, as he didn’t have a weapon with him and didn’t want to become their dinner.

He’d always held others in contempt, feeling that he’d surely be a powerful cultivator in the future. But now he had gotten stuck while simply trying to get himself some food.

Gradually, the day had fallen completely dark. The surroundings were alarmingly quiet. From far away in the forest came the roars of beasts. Cheng Qian listened for a while and suddenly frowned. He scurried to the shore, held up the sleeping Puddle, and clenched his wooden sword, wondering where he should go to be safe in the night.

In the blink of an eye, the roars of the beasts had gotten closer. This wave after wave of roars made Cheng Qian feel he was under fire from all quarters, making him tense up from head to toe.

Cheng Qian didn’t dare to hesitate anymore. He carried Puddle and ran upstream. But unfortunately, at that moment, a black shadow jumped out of the forest and landed in front of Cheng Qian, getting in his way. The heavy breathing sound was increasingly clear in the dark. A pair of green eyes shot a sinister stare at the two delicious kids.

Cheng Qian came to a sudden halt right away. He stepped back with his wooden sword in front of his chest.

The shrub around him stirred, and several other wolves quickly whipped out, encircling Cheng Qian and Puddle closely. Every wolf was as large as a foal, and they all eyeballed the two kids squarely with their fangs bared.

Puddle huddled up in Cheng Qian’s bosom, not daring to utter a sound. Her lineage of the Monster Queen didn’t work as a deterrent at all. Presumably, even though she was the descendant of an ancient mythological animal, these hideous beasts wouldn’t be afraid of a cub who hadn’t been weaned at all.

Cheng Qian stood emotionless in the encirclement of the wolves and lifted his sword. He knew he should not show any trace of timidity in the face of these creatures, for a mere second of hesitation would give them an opening for tearing him and his junior sister into shreds.

Cheng Qian moved his wrist to get the opening move of Fuyao Wooden Swordplay ready as he whispered to Puddle in his arm, “Where are your wings? Fly us out of here.”

Puddle’s face reddened with bated breath. But perhaps because she was so starved that she had lost strength or because she was just terrified by those wolves, only a pair of palm-sized wings sprouted from her back, so small that they could only be used as a fan when they flapped.

Cheng Qian’s heart sank. As expected, upon the sight of Puddle’s wings, that leader wolf perceived the weakness and vacillation in Cheng Qian’s heart. Suddenly it crouched and growled as though giving an order. Seeing its move, Cheng Qian tightened the muscles in his arms to the extreme. Next, he heard a gust of sinister wind blowing from behind, then he swiftly turned around without thinking and exerted the third move of the Roc’s Long Flight in an altered form. The broken wooden sword made a sharp arc in the air and precisely evaded the beast’s claw to hit a fierce chop in the jaw of that wolf.

Cheng Qian had worked hard on his swordsmanship. At least in terms of the two forms he’d practiced, he far exceeded his first senior brother, who only practiced without thorough understanding.

The leader wolf’s eyes gleamed with cunning as it gave another command. Two wolves lurking aside cropped up and blocked Cheng Qian’s escape.

From the beginning, Cheng Qian had already been in a half-dead state from his grief, pain, and despair, and now in face of the wolf’s rapacious gaze, his fury finally overflowed.

On a wild impulse of anger, Cheng Qian went up to meet it head-on. This impulse accidentally aligned with his insight of being fearless.

His frame of mind and the swordplay brought out the best in each other. It almost seemed as if a light glinted at the edge of the wooden sword and as soon as the Roc’s long Flight finished, and then the sword hilt went out of Cheng Qian’s hand—that was the Tide Swordplay he’d been practicing for fun. He hit the hilt with his elbow and pushed the sword straight into the wolf’s mouth.

The relentless sword tip resoundingly clashed into a fang. Cheng Qian’s arm scraped against the wolf’s teeth, his sleeve being torn into two parts and a one-cun deep laceration forming from his wrist to his elbow.

That wolf howled to its death, and Cheng Qian’s wooden sword broke.

However, another wolf’s claws had arrived, coming at Puddle’s head. Cheng Qian shifted Puddle to the other hand with the suddenness of a thunderbolt, and despite his sword being broken, he swiped at the wolf’s nose with the remaining half. Heavily mauled, the wolf toppled on its back, the impact sending Cheng Qian several Chi backwards.

The blood which ran from Cheng Qian’s wounded arm stained Puddle’s body, its smell making her face dreadfully ashen as she trembled with extreme fright. But before Cheng Qian could comfort her, he felt the weight in his arm grow heavier, and the next thing he knew, he had been lifted into the air—Puddle had managed to unfold her wings in the nick of time.

Without any delay, the Heavenly Monster rushed into the sky, flapping her great wings, the wind throwing that leader wolf into the air.

The leader wolf hadn’t thought this would happen. It snarled and sprang toward Cheng Qian’s leg, but pitifully, it was already out of reach. The leader wolf sank back and circled around in anger.

With the thought of killing still over his head, Cheng Qian cast his gaze down at the leader wolf by the moonlight. The wolf was scared stiff for a bit and then withdrew its front legs with its tail tucked in, whining.

Puddle didn’t fly too far with Cheng Qian. She was too young after all, and shortly after passing the valley, she got worn out, and they plunged toward a hill, floundering.

Biting his teeth, Cheng Qian propped himself up against the remaining half of his wooden sword and tore a piece of cloth off from his garment to stem the bleeding, lest it call more beasts over.

Right now, Cheng Qian had an acute pain in the wound, a body chilled by dew, and a junior sister who couldn’t take care of herself, yet he still had to make fire, find food, decide on a place where they could spend the night, and constantly stay alert to the environment.

As he walked through the crisis-ridden Worriless Valley, Cheng Qian found himself robbed of time to mull over the entanglements between master and those demonic cultivators or to dwell on the sense of loneliness and vagueness of future.

The pressing matter of the moment was to walk out of this valley and take junior sister and the Sect Leader’s Seal back.

On the shore of East Sea, people from Azure Dragon Island had finally arrived late, after the tumult had already subsided.

As Muchun Zhenren had never told his apprentices what kind of organization people from Azure Dragon Island were, nor did he introduce any powerful cultivators to them, the idea of pandering to them, or at the very least greeting them, didn’t come to Yan Zhengming at all.

The stormy sea hadn’t calmed down. Yan Zhengming asked Taoist children to send out all the small boats on the ship to search.

Li Yun and Han Yuan gathered in the cabin, rifling through the piles of books that Cheng Qian had taken out with him, while Yan Zhengming fretfully paced around while instructing, “Look for books about charms. Han Yuan, not that stock; that’s still bundled, he may not have read it. Hurry up!”

“Don’t rush me. I find it, likely…” Li Yun lifted a hand. “First Senior Brother, is it this one?”

Yan Zhengming immediately threw aside the book in his hand and went up to grab that book, inspecting the exposition regarding tracking charms carefully. “What the heck… is this it?”

“What does it say?” said the worried Han Yuan.

“It says…”

Just then, a Taoist boy burst in, panting, “Young Master, there’s a Zhenren asking for you.”

“What’s the fuss! I’m busy looking for people!” Yan Zhengming waved his hand without looking up and read to Li Yun and Han Yuan the annotation on that book, “It says that the tracking charm and its maker share a connection. I carved it myself, but it might as well be like a fart since I felt nothing at all after finishing it. What the hell is that connection?”

Li Yun’s face changed color when he heard that. “Senior Brother…”

“Speak straight! What do you want to say?”

“Have you ever considered, that the tracking charm we made was unsuccessful?”

Yan Zhengming was brought up short. After a good while, he mumbled, “But Copper Coin…”

With a gesture of chagrin, Yan Zhengming smacked himself on his forehead—It was all Cheng Qian’s fault, he’d always been acting like, “though I never showed off, I’m reliable,” causing him to trust this novice brat without even thinking!

Had this bastard been reliable, would he be missing now?

At this moment, another Taoist boy ran in with a tattered ribbon in his hand.

“Young Master, they found this…” said the Taoist child in utter panic.

“I tied this around junior sister’s waist—the tracking charm that had been wrapped inside it is missing!” Li Yun grabbed it over, his pupils contracted.

These young boys gazed at each other in speechless consternation inside the cabin.

Suddenly, a gruff female voice interposed, “Tracking charm? What tracking charm?”

Li Yun turned back and saw the Tang Wanqiu Zhenren, who looked like a drowned rat as she glanced at that ribbon.

What was she coming here for?

Slightly astounded, Li Yun greeted her with the etiquette of a junior, “Tang Zhenren.”

Yan Zhengming goggled ferociously at the first Taoist child who had come to inform him, rebuking him as he walked past Li Yun, “Why didn’t you notify me of senior’s arrival? What good are you?”

Tang Wanqiu waved him off indifferently and took the ribbon from Li Yun’s hand. She was silent for a moment before asking, “This isn’t your master’s, right?”

At this juncture, Yan Zhengming had no patience to chat with her. But as Tang Wanqiu was sort of a senior to them, he had to hold back the fret which had manifested in his knitted brows and said, “That’s our junior sister’s. She’s too young and we were afraid that she might get lost, so we tied that to her just in case—please forgive us for being bad hosts, as our master is missing right now. Or would you fancy a cup of tea?”

The tone of the last sentence sounded almost like an order for the guest to leave.

Luckily, Tang Wanqiu was a careless person without a subtle mind. So she didn’t hear the discourtesy in his voice at all.

Tang Wanqiu said, “I suggest you give up. A charm made by you should have already been blown into bits by those two demons.”

Yan Zhengming: “…”

She had to rub it in. Did this woman purposely come here to mock them?

Sometimes there was some truth to judging people on the basis of appearance. When talking about a person, especially a woman, who disregarded their image—unless they had some kind of story behind them, they were mostly people of Tang Zhenren’s type: maverick and incapable of reading faces.

Looking at Tang Wanqiu’s square face with a jaw wider than her forehead, Yan Zhengming was overwhelmed by moodiness, pondering how he could send her away as soon as possible. But before he could decide how to start, Tang Wanqiu cut straight to the point without saying any sympathetic platitudes, as though she were even more impatient than him, “The Lord of Azure Dragon Island asks me to take you to him; come with me.”

Yan Zhengming: “…”

Li Yun knew his senior brother’s temper well. Fearing that he would make impertinent remarks, Li Yun hurried forward and warned Yan Zhengming in an undertone, “Senior Brother.”

To his surprise, however, Yan Zhengming didn’t hop about mad or show any sign of anger. After a moment of thinking with his eyes downcast, he asked, “Why would the lord of the island see us juniors? Does he know our master?”

Tang Wanqiu’s bushy eyebrows cocked, every single hair rising as if saying, “Obviously. Why else?”

Yan Zhengming’s heart thumped. He hastily said, “But our master is now missing. May I ask the lord of the island for a favor…”

“Already looking. Let’s go.”

Cheng Qian was transfixed by his master’s form of address. He wasn’t sure at first if he should call the other side “martial grandfather”.

Just a year ago, when Cheng Qian first walked into Fuyao Mountain, he had blindly thought that this was an illegitimate yet somewhat decent sect.

It was completely understandable of him to think that way; after all, apart from the knight-errants, which folk stories didn’t describe sects deserving to be called such as having great bunch of people fighting and scheming against each other?

Whereas Fuyao Sect only had a sect leader with a handful of callow kids—even gangs of youths in rural areas were perhaps much larger than this.

But in the last couple of days, Cheng Qian had found out one after the other that he had not only a martial uncle, but also a martial grandfather. Though that wasn’t something he’d be proud of at all.

Just taking a look at his martial uncle who had the power to perform astounding feats, and his martial grandfather, the top demonic cultivator in this land, and then taking another look at his pitiful master, Cheng Qian couldn’t help but wonder if Fuyao Sect existed just to elucidate to the world the meaning of “While the priest climbs a post, the devil climbs ten.”

And moreover, between “a poultry sect”¹ and “the headquarters of demonic cultivators”, Cheng Qian dithered over which suited Fuyao Sect better.

After being recognized, Lord Beiming sighed a bit. Then the black mist around his body cleared up to reveal his true face.

He had neither the demeanour of a transcendent being nor the fierce features of an ogre. He was, on the whole, an ordinary person.

His sunken eyes added a touch of handsomeness to his visage. But beyond that, this legendary grandmaster of all devil magic was actually an unimposing middle-aged man—a haggard man with a sallow face and fine shades of grey at his temples.

Tucking his hands into sleeves, Lord Beiming stood near his lonely corpse. Then he waved his hand and said, “Rise, Xiao-Chun—you never knelt to me when I was alive, so why bother doing it now?”

Muchun Zhenren readily stood up as he was told and laid Puddle down, letting her go to Cheng Qian. Then he said in a rather casual manner, “I’m visiting a grave, anyway; of course, I’m supposed to kneel to my ancestor.”

Cheng Qian: “…”

He found it was a tradition of Fuyao Sect to show very little respect to one’s elders and masters.

“I thought you were dead and that your primordial spirit had reincarnated. That was why I had even mistaken Xiao-Qian as your reincarnation, since his bazi² was the same as yours, and that mulish disposition of his was so like you. But I’d never thought… that your souls lingered in this world by attaching to three copper coins.” Muchun Zhenren briefly paused before he carried on with a sense of grievance, “Master, since you had to attach to something, why did you choose copper coins? Even if you couldn’t find gold, silver ingots also work great!”

When Lord Beiming was shrouded in black mist, his aura as the grandmaster of all devil magics oozed from every pore, making people readily prostrate themselves in worship. Whereas when he unveiled himself, it wasn’t like that at all.

“If I did so, would I ever have had the chance to see you again? You’d have squandered them to meet your urgent needs.” Lord Beiming chuckled as he regarded Muchun Zhenren with the same gloom Muchun had while talking to Yan Zhengming.

“Master, times have changed. Our sect is no longer as poor as it once was.”

“I know. You’ve accepted a God of Wealth as your apprentice,” said Lord Beiming ironically, without any change of expression.

After this brief conversation, the master and the apprentice stared at each other for a moment before breaking into a sudden laughter which baffled Cheng Qian.

Holding Puddle, Cheng Qian gazed at the hollow-eyed corpse, utterly unclear about what the two seniors were laughing about.

Moments later, Muchun Zhenren stopped laughing and asked, “One of your souls dispersed in the Demon Valley, and one burnt up in the Soul-Consuming Lamp, so this is your last one? Having lingered in the world for so long with nothing to rely on, even Lord Beiming will end up being eradicated, right?”

“It’s just death, nothing serious.” Lord Beiming smiled again.

“How about senior brother; is he dead now?”

When in front of dozens of ships and under countless gazes, Muchun had to call him “Jiang Peng” directly. But now facing Lord Beiming, there was nothing to conceal, so he used “senior brother”.

Lord Beiming paused and answered with eyes half closed, “He didn’t die in seriousness. I splintered the spirit flame with all the strength of my remaining soul, and I’ve given him a heavy blow. But your senior brother has refined his body and the Soul-Consuming Lamp together; his souls have become the spirit of that lamp and can never enter the cycle of reincarnation again. He won’t be counted as a human being anymore, so arguably he’s dead.”

Muchun Zhenren went silent for a while before asking again, “Did he recognize you?”

Lord Beiming just kept smiling without replying. His smiling silence was as though saying, “Now that things have reached this point, does it make any difference whether he recognized me or not?”

Then he turned to Cheng Qian, benevolently saying, “Kid, it’s my third time to see you. Come here.”

Cheng Qian advanced, but he didn’t go near Lord Beiming as he was told. Rather, he silently went up to Muchun Zhenren’s side and tepidly gave a wordless salute to Lord Beiming, as Cheng Qian didn’t know how to address him.

Even though Master and Lord Beiming seemed to be very close when they chatted, Cheng Qian’s intuition told him that it might not necessarily be the case.

Suppose that they had been so intimate as they appeared now, Cheng Qian couldn’t fathom why Master had never mentioned martial grandfather at least once in the past few years, and why he didn’t come to bury him.

Lord Beiming lowered his head and asked patiently, “You’re such a daring little blighter as to enter meditation in that situation. Did you have an insight?”

Cheng Qian dithered before he replied politely, “Enlightened by senior, you, and Tang Zhenren, I learned the bearing of being fearless of the Heaven, the Earth, the people, and anything.”

His answer aroused many feelings in Lord Beiming’s heart. He scrutinized Cheng Qian for a minute before saying in a mild tone, “Good boy. Eventually, the broken ‘bloodline’ of our Fuyao Sect is linked up again.”

Cheng Qian was terrified at what he said.

In a split second, Master’s changed appearance, the seemingly dead weasel, and Jiang Peng’s words about Master being half-dead… all those ins and outs flashed across Cheng Qian’s mind and pieced together a fact, a brutal fact. Cheng Qian understood the overtones of Lord Beiming’s meaningful words almost in a twinkling of an eye.

He jerked his head around, staring in disbelief at his master who suddenly became such a handsome man.

Muchun Zhenren put his hand upon Cheng Qian’s head, sighing, “If only you can share some of your cleverness with your fourth junior brother—yes, Xiao-Qian, your guess is right. The ‘bloodline’ of Fuyao Sect has broken off since many years ago. And I’m a dead person.”

Cheng Qian clenched his teeth so hard that he released grinding sounds but failed to say any word.

Muchun Zhenren paid no attention to that. He resumed with composure, “The sect leader at that time—namely, my master—was at the critical moment of his closed-door cultivation and had no time to handle other affairs. During that period, his first apprentice, Jiang Peng, degenerated into the devil way of ghostism and fled. I went trailing after him, but I overestimated my abilities and became the first victim of his Soul-Consuming Lamp. Fortunately, however, his ghost cultivation was still immature back then, and a fragment of my primordial spirit wasn’t completely refined. So, I escaped and fell into the body of a weasel spirit who was dying because it had failed to overcome the Heavenly Tribulations of lightning. And thus, I’ve had the opportunity to inherit and pass on the Sect Leader’s Seal.”

Lord Beiming’s look held some sorrow. “You…”

Muchun Zhenren laughed. “I was coping fine with the weasel spirit’s body. The only problem was that he was too greedy.”

“Aren’t you afraid that your primordial spirit might disperse from exhaustion, and that you will never enter the cycle of reincarnation if you possess a corpse as your body?” said Lord Beiming softly.

Muchun Zhenren gently shook his sleeves and took a sweeping look at his feet. Then, smiling, he said in an indifferent air in imitation of Lord Beiming, “Nothing serious.”

“Master, who split the portrait in the Library?” asked Cheng Qian quietly.

Muchun Zhenren was taken aback. “Didn’t I clean it up? Oof… it was probably me. My primordial spirit had undergone the tortures of the bites of ghosts in the Soul-Consuming Lamp, so I couldn’t help breeding grudges after I escaped. In addition, the weasel spirit was a dead corpse; I hadn’t gotten used to its body in the beginning. So there was a time when I was in a state of delirium.”

He narrated those events which, if one studied them closely, were obviously massively understated. But Cheng Qian just felt something choking his chest. He threw his arms around Muchun Zhenren’s waist and buried his head deep in Muchun’s bosom.

So warm… how come it was only a fragment of his primordial spirit?

Muchun continued, “I couldn’t even walk on legs when I first possessed the weasel’s body. So I rolled and crawled, trying to get back and find Master. However…”

Lord Beiming stood rooted to the ground, forming into a lonely shadow against the light.

“I saw the Four Saints besieging Fuyao Mountain,” Muchun Zhenren said to Cheng Qian. “Only then did I know that my master was in fact a once-in-a-blue-moon devil. The Four Saints were the mightiest men at that time. The battlefield stretched all the way from the Fuyao Mountain to the Worriless Valley two hundred Li away—that’s where we are standing right now—and their battle incurred the Heavenly Tribulation, which turned the valley into a sea of fire. For the following three years, the earth was naked of grass and empty of life. One of the Four Saints died and the others sustained severe injuries. I guess if they didn’t pick the time when Master was still in his seclusion, someone else might have died under that ancient tree.”

Then he turned to Lord Beiming. “I didn’t know that you were already a Beiming. Please forgive me for my ignorance, Master.”

Muchun Zhenren was deliberately careful with his narration. For some reason, he didn’t mention any of the key points—like how did Jiang Peng turn to an evil way? Why would he kill Muchun? How had Lord Beiming embarked on this path? Who were these Four Saints? And what caused their murder of Lord Beiming?

From start to finish, Muchun only said the course without any mention of the causes.

In normal times, Cheng Qian would definitely interrogate his master on his doubts. But now, he just couldn’t be bothered with that at all. He even failed to breathe smoothly as though his chest was clogged up with cotton, making him want to heave a big sob.

But Muchun Zhenren disengaged himself from Cheng Qian’s embrace, gently but firmly as well. He bent and picked up a branch which transformed into a wooden sword in his hand. Then he advanced to a clearing, saying to Cheng Qian, “You’ve finished learning the second form; now I’m going to show you the remaining three forms. Watch carefully.”

Cheng Qian had always nagged Muchun Zhenren to teach him swordplay, yet invariably ended up being sent away with a pouch of candies. But now, when Master finally offered to teach him, he didn’t feel excited about that in the slightest.

He knew that Master was going to leave.

Cheng Qian stood dazed for a while. Out of the blue, tears burst out of his eyes like floods rushing out of a dam. He held his breath and bit his lip hard, trying in vain to stop the tears. Never had Cheng Qian cried like this. Even when he was sold by his parents, he didn’t shed a single tear. However, now he was crying as if there was no tomorrow.

For the first time in his life, Cheng Qian experienced this penetrating and incurable pain which he was incapable of sustaining and enduring. It smouldered in his heart, as well as over the dignity he’d tried to keep all the time.

Puddle pulled Cheng Qian’s hem cautiously but was snubbed. So she started blubbering as well.

Lord Beiming seemed to be amused. He asked, “Boy, weren’t you fearless of the Heaven, the Earth, and the people? Why are you snivelling now?”

Cheng Qian endeavored desperately to hold back his cry. But he found that though he could hold back his happiness and sadness, he couldn’t hold back his tears. He cried and wiped his eyes, his vision keeping alternating between being blurry and clear.

“Master, I’m not learning and you don’t teach me that, okay? You… you don’t want us anymore?” Cheng Qian said in a voice strangled with sobs.

Muchun hung down his wooden sword a bit. He wanted to placate Cheng Qian, but then he remembered that Cheng Qian wasn’t Han Yuan; he wouldn’t be easily coaxed. After a long pause, he said, “It’s all the karma; it’s my fate. Even if the today’s accident didn’t happen, I didn’t have many years left. I can’t take care of you for a lifetime anyway.”

Muchun Zhenren stopped at this point. He knew this kid would split hairs whatever he said, so he locked himself up in silence.

He swung the wooden sword horizontally in front of his chest and made a neat opening move. This time, he didn’t read the absurd mnemonic rhyme, nor did he intentionally slow his moves down.

The first form, the roc’s long flight³. The mettled youths, their ideals held high, would reach the moon in the sky.

The second form, seek and pursue. Endless progress and pain lay in the firm, masculine sword moves.

The third form, backfire. Though one gets everything he pursues, he remains an ant on this vast land; whatever seems solid will eventually be destroyed like the sand castle being destroyed by waves.

The fourth form, decline from prosperity. After ups and downs, still, no one could run away from this fate.

The fifth form, return to trueness…

Cheng Qian couldn’t help thinking back on the words master had told him—“ ‘death’ and ‘ascending to the Heaven’, is there any difference between them?”

They were both people coming and going, nothing different at all.

Tears hadn’t dried on Cheng Qian’s face when Muchun Zhenren finished practicing the full set of Fuyao Wooden Swordplay.

“Are you quite sure of that?” asked Muchun Zhenren in a tender tone.

Cheng Qian compressed his lips and exclaimed obstinately, “No!”

“Liar! I won’t show you again anyway.” Muchun Zhenren reached out his hand and flicked Cheng Qian’s forehead. Presently his smile faded. Regarding Cheng Qian, he said, “Xiao-Qian, do you remember the sect rules? What does it say about dealing with sect members who brought shame to our sect?”

Cheng Qian glanced at Lord Beiming with his bloodshot eyes, making no response.

Muchun Zhenren said softly, “Those who committed unforgivable sins shall be disposed of by their fellow disciples—that’s the reason why, even though we have many betrayers since the foundation of our sect, we still have a proper standing among other sects.”

Cheng Qian rubbed away his tears.

“Taoism tells us to let nature take its course, and that a cultivator should stay true to his mission. Now that he has brought disaster, there is sure punishment for him, as the Heaven always repays a crime,” said Muchun Zhenren tranquilly.

Suddenly, the sleeves of his robe floated without wind. His face went ghastly pale and there seemed to be a sparkle flashing across his eyebrows.

“I was in the helm of Fuyao Sect for eighty years, but I am truly guilty for our ancestors and for you and your senior brother. Thus, I vowed to use my three spiritual souls to protect our sect from three catastrophes. After that, I will simply be flying ashes. So Xiao-Chun, you needn’t do that yourself,” said Lord Beiming with equanimity on his face.

Hearing that, Muchun Zhenren didn’t telegraph gratitude. In effect, he didn’t generate any particular feeling. He only answered stoically, “Master, if I let you die a natural death, how would that do justice to those grieving souls killed by you?”

His voice was smooth and overflowed with mildness as always. In Cheng Qian’s mind, however, these were the iciest words that ever met his ears.

It was as though Muchun Zhenren had immersed all his emotions in cold water, with not a hint of joy or pain emitting on the surface.

A line of very complicated charms swiftly flashed through the air, glistening. That was what Li Yun had lauded to the skies: the miraculous invisible charm.

Lord Beiming didn’t dodge or try to escape. He stood still in place, looking with crinkled eyes at the transitory charm which soon integrated into the natural world, saying, “To seal a soul with a soul.”

“My life is well worth it if I could seal one soul of Lord Beiming,” said Muchun Zhenren smilingly.

Cheng Qian opened his eyes wide, and in the next second, he was shoved off by a strong force. He reeled, and over he went, slipping into a coma for a sliver of time.

By the time he opened his eyes again, Lord Beiming had gone. Cheng Qian saw a thin wisp of black mist being twined by a watery golden light. In the end, they disappeared into the rusty copper coin in Muchun Zhenren’s hand.

Only, the hand that was holding the copper coin—Muchun Zhenren’s entire body was becoming transparent. He knelt and buried the coin by the skeleton under the ancient tree before he beckoned Cheng Qian with a smile.

Muchun Zhenren: “There was a seal on that weasel’s body. Go take it off.”

Cheng Qian seemed to be firmly resolved to act against Muchun, as he remained motionless.

Muchun Zhenren’s smile gradually faded. He raised his hand, wanting to stroke Cheng Qian’s head, only to find that it went directly through.

He said, “That is the seal of the sect leader of Fuyao Sect. Remember to give it to your first senior brother when you get back and ask him to take care of you guys in future. As for the swordplay, you really should work harder on the second form.”

Finishing that, he gave Cheng Qian a look with deep emotion before moving his lips. He said almost inaudibly, “I’m leaving. Farewell.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than his figure completely vanished like a handful of broken light running into the dirt and disappearing.

The legend has it that “in former days there was a large tree called Chun which had a spring and autumn each of eight hundred years.” So people use “live as long as the Chun” to wish their parents a long life. However, human beings, after all, were neither grass nor trees.

Muchun Zhenren buried that copper coin in the dirt, by which it seemed that he’d sent Cheng Qian to a new start—every generation begins their seeking and pursuing from the moment when they buried the last generation into earth with their own hands.

A sudden hush fell over the sea.

For the four disciples of Fuyao Sect, this dark silhouette was somewhat familiar. Yan Zhengming had caught a few words of what the shadow had said, and though he was the only one who knew how this person who’d once resided within a tablet had now shown up here, all of them were aware of the fact that this man must be closely related to their sect.

The last time they had met in the Demon Valley, this archdevil had treated them very amiably. Though he was fond of fooling those kids, he never angered even when they exposed his lies. From this, one could see his good temper.

Today, however, he appeared to be a starkly different person.

Though Yan Zhengming stood on the deck of a large ship, he felt the tyrannically vicious vibes emitting from Lord Beiming and setting the sea in unrest.

Jiang Peng’s expression twisted, and he jumped from the clouds onto the ship carrying a group of sword cultivators.

Those cultivators, who moments ago had been flashing their swords and killing ghost shadows, now leapt into the ocean like dumplings being poured into a pot. Without warning or reason, they splashed into the water and sent up spectacular waves.

A storm sprang up over the sea, causing Yan Zhengming to stagger and nearly lose his footing.

Fortunately, the entire body of this ship had been carved with charms drawn by powerful cultivators, allowing it to stay stable for a good while. It was for this reason that the ship was so expensive. But by the time Yan Zhengming regained his balance, his heart sank. His master disappeared with his boat!

“Tell the shipmaster to drive the ship away,” Yan Zhengming instructed a Taoist boy. “There’s a telescope in my luggage, fetch it for me… Cheng Qian, what the fuck are you doing? Get down!”

Cheng Qian had climbed up the ship last, and while Yan Zhengming had been distracted, Cheng Qian started gazing around the area.

Yan Zhengming rolled up his sleeves, took a striding step with his long legs, and pulled Cheng Qian down by hooking his arms around the boy’s waist.

Cheng Qian had been searching for Muchun Zhenren. After being yanked down like a chick before he had found anything, he struggled for all he was worth. “What are you doing?”

“What are you doing!?” Yan Zhengming shouted in Cheng Qian’s ear, holding him with his hand.

“I’m looking for Master!”

“You’re looking for death!”

Yan Zhengming fumed. Then he got a glimpse of Xueqing hurrying out for Cheng Qian, so Yan Zhengming ordered him, “Ehh… You, what’s your name again? Come over, watch this kid, don’t let him…”

Another quake of the ship cut Yan Zhengming short; Lord Beiming and Jiang Peng had come to blows.

The water dragon breached the surface of the water once again. Even the big ship of the Fuyao Sect couldn’t resist leaning sideways. Yan Zhengming had been left no time to hand Cheng Qian over to Xueqing. He pulled Cheng Qian tightly into his arms, and immediately after, he fell over, his back hitting the cabin next to him. The charms all over the entire ship began groaning madly.

With one side being an almighty demonic cultivator who could trap primordial spirits into his Soul-Consuming Lamp, and the other side being the grandmaster of all devil magic—Lord Beiming—their earthshaking clashes made those people on the sea seem like lowly crickets and ants who were forced to flow helplessly with the waves.

Trapped in such a sorry plight, Yan Zhengming finally couldn’t help shouting out his thoughts.

“I knew we shouldn’t have left the mountain!”

Cheng Qian struggled to lift his head and complained, “You are pressing my ribs.”

Yan Zhengming picked himself up with both hands and feet and thrust Cheng Qian into the cabin. “That’s because you’re so short that my arm could only reach your ribs!”

All of the protection charms on the big ship worked at full capacity. The ship swayed like a flickering candlelight in the midst of the raging tides. Perhaps after this experience, their master would no longer oppose young master Yan’s theory that “cheap things are not good; good things are not cheap.”

Only then did Yan Zhengming take a breath and look over the situation.

Yet the water vapour had blurred his eyesight, so he couldn’t see anything. He involuntarily thought of what he had heard from Wen Ya. According to him, Lord Beiming should be a senior of their sect who was still concerned about the sect despite the fact that he had strayed into Diabolism. Last time, he even sacrificed one of his souls in the Demon Valley to save them.

At that thought, Yan Zhengming suddenly became a little worried: this black shadow in front of them was probably an incomplete primordial spirit since he had only two out of three spiritual souls left. This ghost cultivator, on the other hand, happened to be the primordial spirit-killer and also didn’t look like someone to be trifled with. So, what if he even defeated Lord Beiming?

But this thought only lingered in his head for a second or so before it vanished. “This is a fight between two devils; whichever side wins has nothing to do with us,” Yan Zhengming thought, and as he adjusted his facial expression, he prepared to turn to give Cheng Qian a lecture. Nonetheless, he turned around only to find that when his concentration had lapsed for just a moment, Cheng Qian had gone missing!

And Puddle, as well.

Their disappearance made Yan Zhengming choke with anger, worry churning in his stomach. He looked around in a great flurry, fearing that those two brats had been captured by ghost shadows, or that they had fallen into the sea in the confusion.

“Young Master, third martial uncle is there!”

Yan Zhengming stumbled over to the Taoist child, and in the direction the Taoist boy was pointing to, he saw Cheng Qian and Puddle stealthily landing on their master’s broken boat.

Puddle’s wings hadn’t shrunk into her back yet, so it was evident how they had gotten down there. Yan Zhengming only couldn’t puzzle out how Cheng Qian had managed to persuade her.

In the meantime, the two devils fought heatedly in the sky. In such a tense situation, Yan Zhengming couldn’t just go rant at his junior brother; instead, he could only glare at him. Seeing that bastard wave to him from that leaking boat, Yan Zhengming felt a spasm of pain in his stomach.

He found this “gentle and quiet” junior brother had such a brave bearing that he could even disregard his life and death. That boy didn’t give a shit about whether the sky fell or the earth quaked, and cared about only a few people. Therefore, even if the two devils were going to rip a hole in the heavens, all he wanted to do was to find his master.

Muchun Zhenren was so scared by his apprentices’ arrival that his heart nearly jumped out of his mouth. He hurriedly put his index and middle fingers together, shot a bullet of spirit energy at Puddle and Cheng Qian to get them down, and raised his arms to catch them.

He was just about to lose temper when Cheng Qian clutched at his sleeves. The first sentence out of his mouth was, “Master, are you alright!?”

“Ah ah!” Puddle echoed with him.

Muchun Zhenren’s eyelids kept twitching. On one hand, he wanted to give each of them a slap in the bottom; on the other hand, his heart was so moved and softened by Cheng Qian’s words that in the end, he failed to do what he wanted to do.

Just then, a shriek broke out overhead. Jiang Peng’s body was nearly transparent, a gruesome flame dimly visible in his chest. Currents of air as dark as ink rose up in waves to his face, darkening even the whites of his eyes.

Dumbstruck, Muchun Zhenren murmured, “Using his body as the lamp… is he freaking crazy?”

And then, Muchun Zhenren’s presence changed as he planted his wooden sword into the deck. The sword in his hand seemed to have transformed into an exceptionally sharp weapon as it effortlessly cleaved deep into the deck. At the same moment, seawater rushed all around them, rising and forming a globe of water which encased the master and his apprentices inside its sphere.

Shortly after he’d done that, an inexpressible scream whipped out, so earsplitting that even Muchun Zhenren’s water globe couldn’t completely block it, and so mournful that it seemed as though thousands of ghosts were wailing at the same time. An ominous air climbed into the sky and gathered those dark clouds together. Lightning loomed over the clouds as the canopy of the sky shrouded the world in darkness, dwarfing Lord Beiming in insignificance.

As the ghost shadows rampaged, Lord Beiming’s figure became increasingly fragile. Beneath his feet were treacherous surging tides, where we stood looking like the most indomitable thorn between the heaven and earth.

Watching that figure, a phrase dawned upon Cheng Qian—“No matter how many foes, they cannot bend my will.”

The powerful demonic cultivator who could refine primordial spirits and the down-and-out ugly Taoist bun, the wild water dragon and the unsharp wooden sword, the thunders from the highest heavens and the fragmented soul of Lord Beiming…

Tang Wanqiu’s dazzling swordlight, the sawdust in master’s fingertips, and the solitary view of Lord Beiming’s back… suddenly, all those scenes flashed across Cheng Qian’s mind as something flew into his body, racing through his aching and still-recovering channels, sending a buzz of pain through his body.

Startled, Muchun Zhenren, hurried to catch Cheng Qian as he fell. He hadn’t expected that this boy would drift into his first meditation under such a situation and was unsure about whether this apprentice was innately brave or if he was destined to embark on a dangerous branch road in the future.

The situation was critical for Cheng Qian. Each time, the Celestial Market was held on an island on the East Sea. On that island was a forest of celestial mountains which made this area thick with magic. Now, that abundant spiritual energy was excessively absorbed into Cheng Qian’s body like an ocean being emptied into a small brook, almost bursting Cheng Qian’s fragile channels.

Puddle was scared voiceless. She blankly observed her third senior brother curl up because of the billows of pain.

In the sky, Jiang Peng had fully changed into a huge Soul-Consuming Lamp. The ghost shadows as multitudinous as willow catkins were sucked into the inauspicious lamp flame in an instant, and even the black mist covering Lord Beiming’s skin nearly dispersed. But before anyone could get a clear view of his face, Lord Beiming dashed towards the lamp with remarkable speed, like a moth darting into the fire.

Unexpectedly, however, the moment Lord Beiming moved, Puddle suddenly lost control of her wings and levitated in the air as if being pulled up.

In a dreadful rush, Muchun Zhenren stretched out to grip Puddle’s clothes while watching over Cheng Qian at the same time.

Only then did he notice the belt on the chubby girl’s waist. He reached to the gaudy belt and pulled it off.

Muchun shook a wooden talisman out of it. It was exactly the “tracking charm” that Cheng Qian had instructed Yan Zhengming to make.

Cheng Qian himself was a just beginner who lacked all understanding of the taboos and knacks of the art of charms, and Yan Zhengming was nothing short of an amateur; on top of that, they frequently quarreled while making the talisman, so how could they have possibly carved the tracking charm in the correct way?

Actually, even Muchun Zhenren didn’t recognize what that charm was when he passed a simple glance over it.

It wouldn’t matter if the charm were completely incorrect; at most, it would just be a waste of wood. The dangerous thing about it was that this unknown charm seemed to have now activated!

Right at the moment when Lord Beiming and the Soul-Consuming Lamp crashed in the sky, the vast darkness battling the intense brightness, a sparkle burst out from the talisman and quickly stretched out and expanded, turning into dazzling light. That light then rose up and crashed into a bolt of lightning that fell from the heavens. For a moment, everyone was struck blind, and the world before them became a world of white.

After an unknown amount of time, the blaze faded out. Lord Beiming and Jiang Peng were both gone, and Muchun Zhenren and his two apprentices had also disappeared. Where they once stood, only shreds of colored silk were left.

Cheng Qian suffered the anguish of thousands of cuts before he felt the pain finally ease away. He thought he was dying. In his unconsciousness, he seemed to hear a light cry. That was… junior sister?

Then he heard another soft voice whispering, “Shh—don’t cry.”

As Puddle’s whimper died down, everything around Cheng Qian seemed to be moving away from him. He started to lose sense of his limbs and soon his existence. He felt as if he was sinking into an unknown place and blending into it.

After an unknown period of time, Cheng Qian came round and felt better than he ever had before. Even the weariness and internal injuries from the past few days had now disappeared.

He slowly exhaled a breath and blinked. Then he found himself in an unfamiliar place.

This seemed to be a valley where an incredibly huge tree stood. Its root protruding from the ground was as high as a house, and beneath it lay a skeleton.

Beside the skeleton was his junior sister, along with a strange man.

Boggled, Cheng Qian propped himself up. “Senior… who are you?”

Then it suddenly struck him that he knew this guy—he was the man on the half piece of portrait Cheng Qian had discovered on the second-to-last floor of the Library. In front of this man’s feet lay silently a weasel with a slender body, though one couldn’t tell if it was alive.

Puddle stared at this stranger inquisitively. Although her human part didn’t recognize him, her demon part found this person very familiar.

The “stranger” turned to Cheng Qian, smiling faintly. “After a bit of time has passed, you can’t even recognize your own master?”

Cheng Qian’s legs were originally numb; after hearing the familiar voice of this stranger, he immediately slumped back to the ground. “Master?”

How come his long-waisted and short-legged master became such a handsome man!?

Being taught the word “master” heaps of times, Puddle understood what it meant. She let out a surprised “oh” and tilted her head, looking seriously in thought as a string of glistening dribble hung from her mouth.

Seeing her saliva, the man in a long robe with wide sleeves sighed and carefully wiped the saliva off. Then he droned, complaining, “Only I, your master, would not detest you, my dirty girl. If it were your first senior brother here, he would have stewed you.”

This familiar manner of speaking restored a sense of kinship in Puddle. She soon forgot about what master looked like before his face “changed” and happily blew her nose, smearing her master’s clean robe with tears and snot.

Cheng Qian was so confused that he felt like he was dreaming. There were so many questions on his mind, but he could only start from the urgent ones. “Master, what is this place? And… how did you become like this?”

Muchun Zhenren took out the slab, which had broken into two halves, and threw them at Cheng Qian, saying sulkily, “You have the cheek to ask me that? Look at what you guys have carved!”

Cheng Qian instantly recognised that was the thing which they’d worked on for a half night. He stammered, “This… this is a tracking charm.”

Muchun Zhenren sighed, “How dare dabblers like you touch charms which you’ve never seen before? You really have guts… there is more than one mistake in your strokes, making it only a semi-finished soul-tracking charm. Originally it had no use, but the soul-consuming lamp and Lord Beiming’s powerful primordial spirit forced it to activate, and now it has followed Lord Beiming’s primordial spirit to his boneyard.”

Cheng Qian couldn’t help but rest his eyes on the skeleton under the tree.

That was Lord Beiming’s?

He’d been dead?

A lot of doubts hovered in Cheng Qian’s head. He tentatively inquired, “Master, do you know him?”

Muchun Zhenren gave a wry smile. “Thanks to you guys, I recognised him only just now.”

With that, he fished a copper coin out of his sleeve and said, “Brother Wen Ya has given me three copper coins¹; now I have only this one left.”

His fingertips were dazzlingly white in contrast to the rusty coin. Cheng Qian found himself still more used to Master’s wretched appearance with a moustache—this man looked like someone who had walked out from a picture, and thus gave Cheng Qian a feeling of distance as though in the next moment, he would return into the portrait.

Muchun Zhenren flicked his fingertip against that coin, and with a tinkling sound, a cloud of fog rose up from the copper coin, forming into Lord Beiming.

After scrutinizing the man for a moment, Muchun Zhenren slowly knelt down while holding Puddle, saluting, “Master.”