Chapter 47

After the tournament ended for the day, Ding Lanlan and the others gathered at Mu Xue’s place for a little get-together. Of all the girls, no one could top Mu Xue for living space, Xiaoyao Peak was so vast and sparsely populated her master had given her a huge, peaceful courtyard all to herself.
Once Mu Xue was a bit older, her master Su Xingtin picked out a scenic, spirit-rich place and opened it up as her own cave residence, with gardens, sun, and space. It was set up for sheer comfort.
On their way back, they’d run into Fu Yun, who nonchalantly dumped a whole pile of gifts, fruits and snacks given to him by adoring fans at the tournament, into their laps.
Every time there was a sect event, that senior brother managed to collect a small mountain of presents from hopeful admirers.
Now, nestled in Mu Xue’s courtyard, the girls munched on fruit while scanning through the stats and profiles of all those who’d made it to the finals.
“Senior Brother Yun always looks so icy, but he’s actually super approachable, huh?” Ding Lanlan chuckled, embarrassed now to call Fu Yun cold and aloof after scoring some of his bounty.
“He’s always been a gentle guy,” Mu Xue chimed in, mouth stuffed with lotus-root pastries from Yuanzi, voice all muffled and adorable.
Xia Tong had gathered up every bit of info on the tournament’s finalists and spread it out on the table for Mu Xue and Ding Lanlan to strategize over. Both of them had made it into the finals this year.
“From the prelims, looks like Tiezhu Peak fielded a bunch of heavy hitters this time. Especially with that body technique of theirs, immune to blades and flames, basically impossible to hurt, a total pain.” Xia Tong pointed out a few profiles and handed them to Mu Xue.
Maybe it was her upbringing, but from day one at the sect, Xia Tong had loved hunting for gossip and collecting info. As she got older, it just became her trademark skill.
“And then there’s that senior sister from Yuding Peak, her skill with arcane formations is almost frightening.” Xia Tong handed a densely scribbled sheet to Ding Lanlan, listing all the weapons, techniques, and spells that senior sister had used.
Ding Lanlan stared at it, falling into thoughtful silence. She was already strategizing: if she ran into this opponent in the finals, how would she counter?
“Still, the biggest threat is probably our own Senior Brother Xiao. Sure, Xiao Xue beat him once, but that was a fluke, a total curveball. Who knows if he’ll have figured out a counter for you by the time you meet again in the finals? You have to stay sharp,” Xia Tong warned.
Mu Xue nodded and took the dossier on Xiao Changge, flipping through it.
“There’s someone else, Zhuo Yu from Qingjing Peak,” Xia Tong hesitated, pulling out a piece of silken paper. “He’s the ‘Blazing Fire Across the Land’ guy. His spells are seriously overwhelming. You both need to be careful.” Yuanzi craned her neck to peek at the portrait sketched on the paper. “I’ve seen Zhuo Yu around. People say he’s ridiculously hardworking, first one up before dawn, practicing through rain or shine. One time, I was delivering something to Master on Qingjing Peak in the dead of night and spotted Zhuo Yu, out in the snow, drilling his spells like it was nothing.”
Meanwhile, not far from them, the head of Xiaoyao Peak, Su Xingtin, was just now mentioning the same person to visiting sect leader, Danyang.
“You mean the one they called ‘Blazing Fire Across the Land’, the disciple everyone wrote off as too wild to handle?” Su Xingtin poured tea for his senior brother. “Back then, nobody wanted to take him on as a disciple. He was supposed to stay with the outer sect. It was only you, sect leader, who took pity on his talent and brought him into Qingjing Peak.”
Danyang stroked his long white beard. “I know everyone keeps their distance from Zhuo Yu, all because of what happened back then. But I’ve always believed: don’t let one incident define a gifted child’s whole nature.”
Su Xingtin paused with his teacup midway to his lips. “Can’t exactly blame everyone, though. Remember Junior Brother Xu Kun? Same out-of-control flames when he joined, and later he defected to the Demon Spirit Realm. Got a bunch of fellow disciples killed because of it. Anyone who went to the Demon Spirit Realm back then probably still has nightmares.”
“To be honest, I have my doubts as well,” Danyang sighed. “But that kid, Zhuo Yu, he’s determined. Since joining me, he’s barely slept, working twice as hard as anyone else. He only wants to prove himself, to prove I didn’t let sentiment cloud my judgment by taking him in. If I deliberately cut him from the selection and bar him from the big tournament and Demon Spirit Realm, that’ll break his spirit.”
Su Xingtin chuckled. “Sect leader, your heart’s as wide as the world, makes me feel petty for my so-called Xiaoyao Peak favoritism. Maybe you outdo me at my own game.”
Under his thick white brows, Danyang’s eyes narrowed in a smile. “I’m not joking around with you. I came to ask for a divination, to put my heart at ease.”
Su Xingtin set down his teacup, drew out that world-egg talisman, flipped it over a few times, and watched as three tiny gold coins settled at the bottom.
“You’re right, senior brother. We can’t let the past chain the future, or condemn someone before they’ve done wrong.”
Mu Xue walked with Ding Lanlan, Xia Tong, and Yuanzi to the courtyard gate, seeing them off. Then she wandered back towards her room, following the wooden corridor.
Wild peach blossoms covered the mountainsides. A breeze stirred, and petals drifted into the courtyard like falling snow, scattering across the wooden floors of the corridor.
Watching those petals flutter and settle, Mu Xue couldn’t help but think of another courtyard, one where snow always seemed to fall.
It had been ten years since that farewell. In all that time, the Demon Spirit Realm had brought no news about Xiao Shan.
Time hadn’t dimmed her longing. If anything, it lingered and deepened, growing richer like aged wine.
The ache in her heart fermented with every passing year, settling in until it was simply part of her, impossible to shake.
She wondered how he was now. Was he still all alone, still so hard on himself, still as hopeless at taking care of himself?
Mu Xue knew that Xiao Shan had a magical relic that could summon souls. She’d always thought, if the bell ever rang again, would she let her soul answer that call? But for some reason, after all these years, the sound she’d hoped to hear, the clear echo of that bell, had yet to reach her.
In the Demon Spirit Realm, at the ruins of old Fuwang City, a snowy courtyard gate creaked open. A man in a travel-worn cloak stepped inside, dust and exhaustion clinging to him.
His puppet Qianji heard the commotion, raised its slender arms, and scurried across the snowy yard to greet its master’s return.
“Master, you’re back! Was it a fruitful trip? Did you find any way to the Immortal Spirit Realm?”
Cen Qianshan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he bent down, extended an arm, and let the puppet scamper up his sleeve and perch on his shoulder.
“How’s everything at home? Did… anyone stop by while I was out?” he asked.
“No visitors,” chirped Qianji. “I kept everything running just fine.”
Qianji had noticed his master acting odd in recent years. Every time he left, he no longer brought Qianji along, instead, he’d pointedly instruct it to stay home and keep watch, in case anyone came by.
And yet, Qianji had guarded this house for over a century, and not once had any guest come inside. Even those people who hired their master for a job would simply leave a written request in the letterbox outside, never daring to cross the threshold.
Qianji figured this newfound vigilance must come from that curious, uniquely human emotion called “getting tired of the old, chasing the new.”
Digging through its memory banks on human behavior, it noted: humans, when dazzled by some bright, shiny “jade fox,” would instantly toss aside the old friend who’d stuck with them through thick and thin.
It all started ten years ago, after its master came back from the ruins of the Dongyue Temple with some flashy, but totally hollow, new iron-skinned automaton. Ever since, most of his attention shifted to that useless hunk of tin.
Qianshan would just sit and stare at that iron doll for ages, personally patching up its body and upgrading its circuits. He’d bring it everywhere, even let it sleep on the pillow next to him. He’d even given it a pretty, special name: Xiao Ya.
As far as Qianji was concerned, this so-called Xiao Ya was good-looking and nothing else. Even after Qianshan, with the greatest care, not damaging its outer shell, installed a simple operating system in its body, Xiao Ya could still only carry out the most basic commands. Unlike Qianji, it was neither powerful nor clever.
Seriously, what exactly does Master see in that thing?
After Cen Qianshan returned to the house, he made a beeline for the shower. Moments later, the sound of water splashing filled the air.
The puppet Xiao Ya stood dutifully outside the door, clutching a clean towel and a fresh set of clothes in her hands, ready and waiting on the top step.
Qianji glanced slyly around, then crept up behind her. Its spindly, telescoping legs suddenly shot out, tripping up the dazed Xiao Ya and sending her tumbling head-over-heels down the steps.
Snatching up Master’s clothes, Qianji smugly claimed Xiao Ya’s spot, clearly pleased with itself.
When Cen Qianshan emerged, he saw Qianji whirling around, arms raised high, running off with his clothes while a bewildered Xiao Ya gave chase, her tiny hands flailing as she tried to reclaim her task.
“Give it back! Come on, give it back to me!”
“Nope! Not a chance! Finders keepers!”
Cen Qianshan ignored their antics, simply snagged the white towel from Qianji’s grasp. Bare-chested, he sat on the wooden corridor floor, rubbing down his long, damp hair.
He dried himself off, pulled out wound ointment from his storage pouch, and set about tending to the injuries he’d picked up on his latest trip.
Qianji finally came to a stop as Xiao Ya at last managed to wrestle the clothes away from it.
This was another huge change in Master over the past ten years. He never used to act this way. If he wasn't zoning out watching the snow after coming back, he was training relentlessly. Even with serious wounds, he would never bother to take care of himself.
Now, he ate well, took proper baths, and always treated his injuries promptly. He kept himself impeccably neat, every moment of every day.
Master had always been handsome, but with this self-care, whenever he stepped outdoors, bold girls would sidle up and try their luck flirting. Plenty more giggled and tossed embroidered handkerchiefs or scented sachets into his arms. Humans are such shallow creatures, just a pretty face, and they seemed to forget about Master’s old, terrifying reputation.
After bandaging himself up, Cen Qianshan draped a robe over his shoulders, pulled his wet hair into a loose knot, and took a small, purple-gold, dragon-etched chime from his pouch, turning it slowly in his hands.
He didn’t even know how many times he’d taken out this tiny chime in the last ten years. Out, then back in. Out again, then tucked away. Time and again, he nearly rang it, every time, he gritted his teeth and resisted.
“You finally got your hands on the complete Dongyue Divine Chime, so why not ring it?” Qianji sidled up, puzzled. “Just once, let Master Mu come home and see us!”
See? Only I bother to talk to Master. That useless thing does nothing but parade his clothes around.
Cen Qianshan’s thumb absently stroked the mallet and the wooden handle of the chime, but in the end, he shook his head. “Separating the soul from the body, no good can come of it.”
Qianji muttered, “But what if Master Mu hasn’t seen you for so long, she ends up falling for some other ‘cheap floozy’ and forgets all about you?”
Cen Qianshan’s pale fingers tightened into a fist.
Xiao Ya poked Qianji with one long arm. “You said the wrong thing.”
Qianji huffed, “Impossible. I know humans best, there’s no way I messed that up.”