Chapter 61

Maybe it was the severity of his injuries, or maybe it was something else, but Cen Qianshan slept deeply, peacefully, through it all. Even asleep, his grip on Mu Xue’s hand never loosened, not for a moment.
Mu Xue watched him sleep, so calm and content, she couldn’t bear to wake him. She lightened her steps, treading softly through the dim, endless tunnel for a long, long time.
Golden light from the lantern, cold shadowy road, Xiao Shan’s hand gripped in hers. It was like traveling back in time, to days that were hard, yes, but still safe and warm.
A glow appeared ahead, the tunnel’s end at last. Mu Xue emerged into a mountain valley alive with birdcalls and strange insects, sunlight glinting harsh and bright.
She shielded Cen Qianshan’s brow with her hand and looked all around.
The tunnel’s exit sat halfway up a steep mountainside. Below, the cliffs were honeycombed with all sizes of caves, depthless and mysterious. Ledges crisscrossed the cliffs, while bridges arched between towers in midair.
All around, you saw the handiwork of generations, meticulous carvings, monumental statues, yet the whole valley was utterly empty, with not a hint of human life.
Looking up, the mountains soared into mist, swallowing the sky in endless gray. There was no sun, no moon, no stars, no clue where that brilliant light could possibly come from.
Beneath her palm, the man’s eyelids trembled.
“Waking up?” Mu Xue loosened her fingers, sliding her hand away to look down at him.
Leaves drifted on the mountain air. Hidden insects whispered softly.
With her hand removed, his eyes were exposed, a gaze deep as autumn water, gentle and endless and heartbreakingly joyful, looking up at her, unblinking.
Under that gaze, Mu Xue’s heart skipped, thumping faster for no reason at all. She found herself with the sudden, reckless urge to do something crazy in this empty, silent wild.
Cen Qianshan, pale-faced atop the cloud, tried to push himself up, but Mu Xue stopped him with a firm hand, pressing him gently back down.
“You need to rest. Stay lying down until you recover. If anything happens on the way, let me handle it.”
Mu Xue remembered how he’d ignored her wishes, throwing himself between her and danger, fighting through that violent storm alone, getting himself hurt like this. The thought made her angry all over again.
“If you ever pull that stunt again, I’m not helping you next time! I’ll just tie you up with the Binding Rope and leave you there, see if you can keep me out of the fight then.” She brandished a dazzling red cord in the air, twirling it for emphasis.
“T-tie me up?” Whatever Cen Qianshan pictured, that sickly pale face flushed suddenly, suspiciously red.
He’d only said two words, but Mu Xue instantly realized how suggestive her threat had sounded.
All those spicy scenes she’d read in romance novels, ones she’d definitely snuck glances at, rushed into her mind at once, now all starring this man in front of her.
The Demon Spirit Realm’s strongest man, those tightly bound hands, that crimson rope beneath the grape arbor, a half-struggling, half-wanting body, helpless pleasure and tears shed in fits of surrender…
Chaotic images tumbled over themselves in Mu Xue’s mind.
She pinched herself on the sly and tried not to groan in mortification. If only smacking herself twice would snap her out of this!
Since when did you become this much of a pervy Master?
Poor Xiao Shan, all those years he looked up to you… it’s wasted on someone this depraved.
Distracted and flustered, she guided the Reflecting Sky Cloud, along with the disciple she couldn’t quite meet the eyes of, down the steep stone path winding along the mountainside.
At the valley’s floor, wild grass grew tall and green pines spread their branches wide.
She hadn’t gone far before she spotted a cluster of grave markers behind a lush, ancient pine tree.
Ever since falling into this valley, everything, statues, cliff carvings, had been exquisitely crafted, ancient with the weight of centuries, each detail filled with reverence for forgotten gods.
The only thing breaking the monotony of waist-high weeds was this single row of gravestones, raw and hastily carved, as if someone had swung an axe or knife in a rush. They looked far newer than everything else here, a couple centuries old at best.
Mu Xue stepped forward, pushing aside the thick grass to take a closer look.
Each stone was smooth and blank, no names, no epitaphs, not even who set them or the date. The only mark was a lotus-shaped mountain crest, deeply carved into the top of each gravestone.
Mu Xue’s heart sank. There was no mistaking that symbol.
Nine petals, nine peaks. The Nine-Linked Mountain, home to Guiyuan Sect, and the crest all disciples carried as proof of their identity. The same crest was etched into the sect token Mu Xue always wore at her waist.
Which meant that, one or two centuries ago, a group of Guiyuan Sect disciples had come here. All of them had died, buried in some distant land, never to return home.
Mu Xue cleared more grass and saw, placed neatly atop one tomb, the unique jade token given only to Guiyuan Sect disciples.
This token was handed out the day each disciple joined, meant to be kept close for a lifetime, never separated, even by death. To leave it behind could only mean one thing: the disciple had been expelled, and the seal on the token had lost its effect.
Mu Xue picked up the token, wiping away layers of caked dust. It was just like her own, save for the name inscribed at the front, two characters: Xu Kun.
"Xu Kun?" Mu Xue turned the token over in her hand, racking her brain. She’d memorized the names of all notable elders from sect history, none matched Xu Kun. Puzzled, she slipped the token into her storage pouch to ask her master, Su Xingtin, about it later.
After stowing the token, Mu Xue made a circuit of the area, quickly spotting a cluster of carved-out stone dwellings in the shadow of a nearby cliff.
The interiors were now dust-choked and draped in cobwebs, but the layout was complete, stone tables, beds, simple furnishings. Whoever had lived here, had stayed some time.
On the cliff wall by the door, sword slashes crisscrossed deep in the stone, sharp even after centuries. The weight of sword intent lingered still, woven through the rock, time unable to erase it.
Mu Xue gazed up at those ancient marks.
That particular sword technique was the Plum Blossom Nine Swords, the one her own Master, Su Xingtin, had taught to Senior Brother Fu. Had the swordsman who trained here been one of her own sect's ancestors? Their sword intent was so pure, yet even they ended up trapped and buried in this remote valley, bones lost to the wild.
Mu Xue searched a little longer, but there wasn't a single living soul, nor any further discoveries. She could only return to the nameless gravestones, head down, clearing weeds off their tombs.
From her storage pouch, she produced a few sect treats and offerings of fruit, arranged them on little plates, and pressed incense into the dirt as she bowed in prayer.
“To the honored ancestors: Guiyuan Sect descendent Zhang Xiao Xue, passing by, lights three sticks of incense in distant tribute. May you find your way home. May your spirits return to the Dao, and ascend the cycle once more.”
She bowed sincerely a few more times before finally rising and leaving.
The whole ordeal left her heart heavy. What was this strange valley? Why had Guiyuan disciples been buried here, abandoned, forgotten? And, most importantly, how would she find the road back?
Mu Xue glanced at Cen Qianshan, fast asleep and pale atop her floating cloud.
The most urgent thing was protecting her injured Xiao Shan. Only then could she search for an exit, panicking now would do no one any good.
She left the graves, picking her way through the narrow, cliff-flanked valley. As she went deeper, pairs of divine statues began to appear along the path,
But these were nothing like the rigid, almost cartoonish statues she’d seen in Joyful City up above, those were obviously manmade, a bit stiff, lacking life.
Down here, every god carved into the stone was stunning: the manly gods brimmed with vigor and untamed energy, the women appeared ethereal, delicate as rain and flowers. Every detail, pose, muscle, curve of lip, looked so lifelike it nearly defied belief, as if the rock itself had softened to living flesh.
Honestly, compared to these, those prim and proper statues on the surface, criticized by every Guiyuan disciple as boring, suddenly seemed almost dignified.
Out here, in this deserted valley, the gods forgot all notions of decency. They reached for each other, faces flushed with passion, entwined in every shameless pose imaginable, some looked as if they’d fall right off their pedestals in the throes of wild abandon. It was... too much information, frankly scandalous.
Even after two lifetimes, Mu Xue couldn’t help blushing as she hurried past. She actually found herself grateful that Cen Qianshan was still out of it and hadn't witnessed any of this, which at least spared them both a fresh round of mutual embarrassment.
Little did she know, lying atop the Reflecting Sky Cloud, Cen Qianshan was faced away with tightly shut eyes, yet the tip of his pale ear was slowly flushing scarlet.