Chapter 16#
Chapter 16: Qianqiu#
Kong Yan wanted to escort them back to Qingdu Mountain. He called Feng Xianyu’s name several times, but Feng Xianyu remained listless, standing off to the side in a daze as if he hadn’t heard a thing. Finally, mustering his spirits, he forced a smile and said, “Fine.”
Too lethargic even to summon his magic treasure, he said, “You take me on your sword.”
After all, back in the day, whenever he couldn’t be bothered to use his own treasure, he would always hitch a ride on Kong Yan’s sword.
Not far away, Xiang Wan carefully gathered the bone flute fragments into a brocade pouch embroidered with spirit runes. She suddenly sensed that Zhuo Yu seemed to have looked away, so she looked up innocently and asked, “Does Senior Brother have any instructions?”
Zhuo Yu shook his head; a glint of spiritual light flashed at his waist.
Kong Yan felt Feng Xianyu’s forehead. “A fever? Qi deviation?”
“Can’t you wish me well for once.” Feng Xianyu pushed his hand away, still weak and dispirited. “I’m fine, just don’t feel like moving.”
Kong Yan wordlessly shoved a bottle of spirit pills into his hand and added, “Taking a sword to Qingdu Mountain—don’t you mind the wind? By the time you get there, you’ll be blown into an idiot.”
With that, he let out a whistle. The sky darkened, and with a rumble, a spirit ship the size of a pavilion appeared on the grass, carved beams and painted rafters, resplendent and magnificent—the unique treasure of the Young Master of the Qingque Sect. The Qingdu Mountain disciples, who had never seen such a thing, let out a chorus of “wows,” as if they’d all turned into frogs.
Kong Yan gracefully sheathed his Radiant Flow Sword and beckoned, “Come on up, no charge.”
“Many thanks.” Feng Xianyu didn’t waste words. He looked exhausted, clearly wanting to sleep. He barely managed a few words to Zhuo Yu, refused anyone’s help, and boarded the ship as if treading on cotton.
Kong Yan cast a worried glance at Feng Xianyu’s back before remembering Zhuo Yu. He didn’t know Zhuo Yu well—just an acquaintance. Turning back, he noticed Zhuo Yu was also watching Feng Xianyu. A bit puzzled, he still politely said, “Daoist Zhuo, please board the ship.”
Zhuo Yu swept an indecipherable glance over him.
After he walked past, Kong Yan still stood there, brushing off the goosebumps on his arms for no apparent reason.
Feng Xianyu found any room, collapsed onto the bed, and fell asleep.
In his previous life, he had lived in Zhuo Yu’s cave dwelling for three months, only to finally find a chance to shatter the jade bracelet and escape.
During those three months, Zhuo Yu rarely came to see him. Without even asking, Feng Xianyu knew the mountain below must have been swarming with all those sect people, which was what kept Zhuo Yu busy. He often couldn’t sleep, sitting and staring blankly all day and night, thinking of Feng Qianqiu, thinking of the Qingdu Mountain of the past, then looking at his own hands and bow. Several times, he wanted to break the golden bow, but he couldn’t bear to.
Feng Xianyu didn’t know how long he had slept until he felt someone stroking his eyelids. He slowly opened his eyes.
The moment he opened them, the sword cultivator was sitting upright on the edge of the bed, his back to the window. The piercing sunlight, not fully blocked, enveloped him, and a pungent, fragrant aroma filled the room.
Feng Xianyu, still not fully awake, stared up at Zhuo Yu from below.
“Almost there,” Zhuo Yu said, his lowered gaze drifting calmly into the distance.
Qingdu Mountain.
In the main hall sat a group of blue-clad figures, their attire nearly identical—simple and plain, each with a piece of green jade hanging at the waist. Leading them was a handsome, refined young cultivator, his tone even: “…As stated, although no second case has been found for now, we must still be cautious. I would like to ask the Sect Leader to pay close attention. If any similar reports arise, please notify Xuanji Mountain.”
On the main seat, Feng Qianqiu was distracted, toying with an empty porcelain cup. Elder Xu beside him gave a heavy cough. Feng Qianqiu snapped back to reality as if nothing had happened, smiled, and said, “Alright, I understand.” Then he ordered tea to be served.
The one seated below was none other than Ye Shu, the chief disciple of Xuanji Mountain. His junior brother, taking advantage of the moment everyone was snacking, whispered to Ye Shu, “Senior Brother, I just heard from someone in the corridor that their only son went out hunting demons and hasn’t returned yet. Sect Leader Feng has been waiting.”
Ye Shu hummed in acknowledgment, frowning. “Feng Xianyu?”
The junior brother murmured, “Yes.”
Ye Shu was silent for a long time. He had heard of Feng Xianyu’s reputation, but by nature he disliked people who were too flashy. Now, seeing that even the Sect Leader seemed unreliable—like father, like son indeed—his impression of the entire Qingdu Mountain took a turn for the worse. He decided not to stay longer and prepared to take his leave. “Since the Sect Leader still has matters to attend to, we—”
Before he could finish, a young disciple burst through the door, panting, and without regard for the guests in the hall, directly interrupted Ye Shu: “Sect Leader!”
Feng Qianqiu shot to his feet, the clouds on his face instantly clearing. “Yuer is back?”
“Yes!” The disciple bowed, beaming. “Both the senior and junior senior brothers are back! Young Master Kong escorted them. Sect Leader, please come out and see.”
Feng Qianqiu, ignoring the cultivators from Xuanji Mountain, swept his sleeve and hurried out the door. The other elders, unable to continue hosting the guests either, offered a quick apology and followed swiftly behind Feng Qianqiu.
The Xuanji Mountain disciples exchanged bewildered looks, unable to believe Qingdu Mountain could be so rude.
“This is too much,” the junior brother complained. “Just leaving us here?”
Ye Shu gave a cold snort, stood up, and said, “Then let’s go welcome them as well.”
The Xuanji Mountain disciples all voiced agreement and followed their senior brother’s footsteps outside.
At the mountain gate, the spirit ship landed with a thunderous thud. The waiting disciples eagerly swarmed forward.
The first to descend was a red-robed youth, his posture relaxed. A black waistband embroidered with intricate gold threads cinched tightly at his waist. His silver-red robes shimmered like sunset clouds, the hems adorned with faint golden spirit runes that extended to two tail-feather-like red sashes trailing behind his shoulders. His face glowed white, and he smiled at everyone. All who met his gaze were momentarily stunned.
Leading the way, Ye Shu stopped dead in his tracks, staring blankly at the youth cheerfully greeting the others before throwing himself into Feng Qianqiu’s arms and acting spoiled in full view of the crowd. After a long moment, Ye Shu’s voice came out hoarse: “…That’s Feng Xianyu?”
“I… suppose so.” The Xuanji Mountain disciples had never seen anyone so handsome; they too took a while to recover.
Qingdu Mountain was wreathed in auspicious clouds, white cranes flying in formation—just as it always had been. But for Feng Xianyu, it was a truly long-awaited sight.
Breathing in the air of Qingdu Mountain, his heart settled firmly in his chest.
Zhuo Yu and Kong Yan disembarked after him and likewise paid their respects to Feng Qianqiu. Then, Kong Yan noticed that Zhuo Yu’s gaze had suddenly fixed on something. Curious, he followed the direction, but his eyesight wasn’t good—he only saw a dense mass of heads on the long stairs.
“Many thanks, Young Friend Kong,” Feng Qianqiu said.
Kong Yan laughed. “It’s nothing. Xianyu is my good brother. Besides, I didn’t do much—by the time I arrived, Xianyu had already dealt with everything.”
Feng Xianyu had almost started to mention the matter with A Yue, but seeing so many people, he held back. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the Xuanji Mountain group on the steps.
As their eyes met, Ye Shu’s heart trembled. He heard the other let out a soft “Oh?” and then an exceptionally pleasant voice ask Feng Qianqiu, “We have guests at home?”
“Oh, yes.” Feng Qianqiu finally remembered Ye Shu and the others he had completely forgotten.
Elder Xu said, “They are from Xuanji Mountain.”
The junior brother poked Ye Shu in the lower back. Ye Shu snapped out of his daze, suppressed his racing heart, and quickly led his disciples through the crowd to stand before the youth. With a cupped-fist salute, he said, “Pleasure to meet you. I am Ye Shu of Xuanji Mountain.”
Before he finished, he couldn’t help lifting his eyelids to sneak a glance at Feng Xianyu, and saw his own reflection in those eyes.
That realization alone made Ye Shu’s heart skip a beat. But before his heart could float up gently, he suddenly saw a pair of dark, heavy eyes emerge from behind the red-robed youth—a bone-chilling cold that made Ye Shu’s entire body bristle. He barely managed not to step back.
In that one glance, Ye Shu was certain: that was a sword cultivator.
It must be Feng Qianqiu’s senior disciple.
Feng Xianyu, completely unaware of what had just transpired, sized up Ye Shu for a moment, then smiled. “I’ve long heard of your esteemed reputation. Visitors from afar are always welcome. Since you’ve come all this way, why not stay a few days? Let us properly play host.”
Feng Qianqiu said, “Yuer is right.”
Ye Shu had originally intended to take his leave, but looking at Feng Xianyu’s smiling face, for some reason, the words came out changed: “In that case, we shall trouble you.”
“Oh, I forgot to introduce.” Feng Xianyu tapped his head and cheerfully gestured toward Zhuo Yu and Kong Yan. “This is my senior brother, Zhuo Yu, and this is Kong Yan of the Qingque Sect.”
So his name is Zhuo Yu—Ye Shu immediately memorized that sword cultivator’s name.
Elder Xu arranged the courtyard where the Xuanji Mountain people would stay. As for those from the Qingque Sect, since they had come all this way, they couldn’t just turn around immediately; naturally, they too would stay. Watching Ye Shu walk away reluctantly, Feng Xianyu dropped his trademark smile and let out a breath. A moment later, Kong Yan suddenly spoke, frowning suspiciously. “Why was that guy surnamed Ye staring at you the whole time?”
“Huh?” Feng Xianyu said. “Was he? Your eyes are bad—you must have misseen.”
Kong Yan searched his memory suspiciously. Zhuo Yu suddenly said flatly, “He was.”
“See! I told you!” Kong Yan immediately felt vindicated.
“Really?” Feng Xianyu thought for a moment, then waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever. So many people look at me—one more doesn’t matter. A look won’t make me lose any flesh.”
That reasoning held, but Kong Yan still felt something was off. He couldn’t quite put it into words. By then, Feng Xianyu had started chatting with Elder Xu, asking why the Xuanji Mountain people had come. After all, Xuanji Mountain was the only medical cultivation sect among the seven great sects, claiming to heal the world. A special visit must mean something.
Elder Xu replied, “Young Master Ye led his disciples down the mountain on a tour, when suddenly they encountered a farmer who died inexplicably. The mortal authorities ruled it a sudden death. They couldn’t find anything unusual, but still felt something was off. So they came to discuss with the Sect Leader—if we encounter similar cases, could we notify Xuanji Mountain so they can come investigate.”
“Died inexplicably…” Feng Xianyu repeated softly, thoughtful. “How exactly did they die?”
“Just complained of heart pain,” Elder Xu said, not taking it seriously. “Many mortals die of heart pain—it’s very common. Those Xuanji Mountain people have no evidence; it’s really hard to look into.”
Feng Xianyu pondered a moment, then said, “Since they’ve come, we can’t just ignore it. Uncle Xu, why not send a few people to keep an eye out? If nothing’s really wrong, we can all rest easy.”
Elder Xu said, “Don’t worry, I know what to do.”