Chapter 14#
Setting Out#
Yin Biyue’s heavy mood ultimately couldn’t last until he finished meeting his second senior sister, Liu Qishuang.
“Junior brother, take this dragon-scale protective armor too!”
“And this South Sea Sinking Mountain Dagger—bring it along!”
“Also the Purple Bamboo Bone Azure Jade Fan, the Nine Dragons Divine Fire Hood, the Four Directions Mountains and Rivers Cauldron—all of them!”
Liu Qishuang was still thinking about what else she might have missed.
Yin Biyue’s mouth twitched slightly as he looked at the pile of magical artifacts that had formed a small hill.
…He hadn’t even managed to get a word in since he entered.
He knew Liu Qishuang practiced fist techniques and normally didn’t place much importance on external objects. Most of these belongings were likely spoils from the “Battle of Xiling Mountain.”
That being the case, he couldn’t accept them.
So he gave a light cough. “Senior sister, I appreciate your好意 [good intentions], but I’m a sword cultivator. If I went on a journey carrying this many magical artifacts, wouldn’t I be neglecting the essentials for the trivial?”
Liu Qishuang thought it over and found it quite reasonable. She didn’t use these things herself either.
But she still wasn’t at ease. “Junior brother, at least take one for self-defense!”
So they compromised. In the end, Yin Biyue took only a dagger.
Liu Qishuang calmed down and realized she had fallen into a mental trap.
When traveling and experiencing the world, crises and uncertainties were unpredictable—how could there ever be absolutely perfect preparation? How could there be a foolproof contingency plan? If she really overthought and hesitated, it would only harm her junior brother instead.
The road ahead was vast and uncertain; in the end, her junior brother had to walk it alone.
Once Liu Qishuang understood this, she felt much more at ease. She said a few words of encouragement and then, with a relieved heart, let Yin Biyue go back.
The youth sat at the desk, reading a book.
His posture was very straight—neither leaning nor tilting.
His gaze was calm, like a deep abyss or a vast ocean. What he was reading was not a jade slip, but an old book whose edges had slightly yellowed; it was not even a valuable text. Even so, he did not relax in the slightest.
Luo Mingchuan’s self-discipline and sense of responsibility had taken root deep within his personality, embedded in his very bones.
Even when alone, his conduct was impeccably proper.
Even his master, Zhengyangzi, sometimes felt that he was so self-disciplined it was almost harsh.
Yet this propriety of his never imposed an unbearable sense of oppression on others.
On the contrary, everyone who had interacted with him felt the comfort of a spring breeze.
His smile was neither too strong nor too faint, carrying just the right amount of warmth. No matter who he spoke with or what the topic was, he always kept a courteous distance—neither too close nor too far.
This room was also like the man himself—neither grand nor shabby. All the furnishings were arranged in a standard, proper manner.
In the lotus-patterned celadon incense burner, xibing [a type of incense] was lit. For cultivators, it had the effect of clearing the mind and calming thoughts.
The sweet, cool fragrance lingered in the room. A faint wisp of smoke traced the young man’s brow.
He sat at the desk, like a tall, sturdy pine standing on a perilous cliff.
Only Luo Mingchuan himself knew.
The incense was a gift from an old friend of the Qinglu Sword Sect when they came to Cangya for a discussion; he had never used it before. Because there had been no need.
But when the heart is unsettled, how can a single burner of xibing incense be enough to sway it?
Therefore, when someone triggered the restrictions on his courtyard gate, he simply put down the book and pushed open the door to go out.
The visitor was He Yanyun. Compared to her usual lively, cheerful demeanor, there seemed to be a few extra threads of worry between her brows.
Luo Mingchuan welcomed her into the courtyard but did not enter the house.
Although cultivators did not place much importance on the distinction between men and women, he always maintained proper etiquette.
He Yanyun sat on the stone bench under the tree and directly asked as soon as she sat down,
“Senior brother, are you really not going to travel together with us anymore?”
Luo Mingchuan replied openly, “I’m going with Junior Brothers Yin and Duan from Xihua Peak. Their planned route is different; we need to take a detour, so we’ll set out a month early.” He added with a reminder, “This time, the ‘Flower-Picking Gathering’ will be led by Uncle-Master Cheng from Xiping Peak. You all must follow his arrangements.”
The “Flower-Picking Gathering” was voluntary and had no quota limit. This was partly because there were not many disciples at the Condensing Spirit and Barrier-Breaking realms, and also because in Cangya, not everyone was eager to gain fame. Some whose foundation was unstable or who felt they had no chance to win and pluck the lotus simply continued seclusion in cultivation.
Thirty people from Cangya Sect were going this time.
But compared to many lesser-known sects—some of which couldn’t even muster twenty Barrier-Breaking cultivators across the entire sect—this was truly a terrifying foundation.
He Yanyun was not surprised by Luo Mingchuan’s answer. She had heard about his decision before coming.
But she twisted her sleeves, hesitating, then finally gathered the courage to ask,
“Senior brother, did you really do something to wrong Senior Brother Yin?”
In her previous understanding, she had never thought Luo Senior Brother could make a mistake. If there was any fault, it was certainly someone else’s.
This was a blind faith, almost a belief.
So even though she knew Luo Senior Brother never lied, and even though she had felt sad for Senior Brother Yin during the Qinghe Hall incident,
She still asked again, with a glimmer of hope.
Luo Mingchuan fell silent.
The spring breeze blew through his empty wide sleeves, bringing with it only the desolation of autumn.
After a long time, he said, “I wronged him.”
He Yanyun bit her lip, unable to speak. But the rims of her eyes reddened slightly.
She stood up hastily, without even having time to bow, and ran out of the courtyard.
She ran all the way to the Cheng’guang Lake on Xigan Peak, feeling so sad she could barely breathe.
She saw her reflection in the lake—her own embarrassed face on the verge of tears—but slowly calmed down.
Because she recalled that when she was still a little girl, her master had once looked at this lake and spoken a principle.
“The petty person is never wrong; the gentleman is always at fault.”
—A petty person never believes they are wrong, while a gentleman constantly reflects on themselves, knowing their mistakes and correcting them.
She remembered arguing with her master back then, “Maybe people are too harsh on gentlemen, so even the slightest mistake gets seized upon and turned into a huge fault. While with a petty person, because they’re already a petty person, no one really blames them when they err. That’s so unfair! Being a gentleman really sucks! Good thing I’m a woman!”
Her master blew his beard and glared at her. “Unteachable brat! Your senior brother is much better than you!”
Senior brother was naturally better than her. In her heart, senior brother was better than anyone.
She scooped up some lake water to wash her face, then smiled at the lake’s surface.
Because she suddenly felt that a senior brother who admitted his mistakes was even more admirable than a senior brother who never made mistakes!
The evening breeze calmed her heart.
She sat by the lake, carefully thinking back to the every move, every word and expression, of those two people in Qinghe Hall, as well as her senior brother’s haggardness over the past month.
Finally, she made a decision.
The young woman stood by the lake, clenching her fists as a surge of heroic spirit rose within her.
“Senior brother, this time it’s finally my turn to help you! Just leave it to me!”
I am the paper family’s naive dividing line
The fourth day of the fourth lunar month, an auspicious day according to the Yellow Calendar.
Favorable for travel, favorable for funerals, favorable for marriages, favorable for breaking ground. Everything is auspicious.
Duan Chongxuan had checked the calendar before setting out.
Liu Qishuang and Jun Yu saw the two off to the edge of Xihua Peak. At the moment of parting, there was actually nothing more to say.
Yin Biyue noticed that Jun Yu’s aura could no longer be freely restrained; standing even slightly close, one could feel a pressure, as if a towering mountain stood before them.
This was a good thing—perhaps by the time he returned, the senior grand disciple would have broken through to the Mahayana realm.
After bowing to his senior siblings, he turned and headed down the mountain with Duan Chongxuan.
Then they saw Luo Mingchuan standing in the middle of the road.
He hadn’t been seen for a few days, but he seemed to be in much better spirits.
He nodded slightly in greeting. “Junior Brother Yin, Junior Brother Duan.”
Duan Chongxuan smiled. “Senior Brother Luo, it’s a long road ahead. Please look after us.”
Yin Biyue felt relieved—it seemed the chatterbox bore no strong hostility toward Luo Mingchuan. He also nodded. “Senior Brother Luo.”
So the three of them descended the mountain together.
At dawn, there was still a faint, pale moon in the western sky.
The “Morning Bell” from the main peak echoed melodiously through the mountains, its sound unending, startling countless birds from the woods.
Though still within the mountains, the terrain had already gentled, and the main road they walked was built wide and flat, easily accommodating two carriages side by side.
By the time they reached the Affairs Hall, faint voices could be heard in the distance.
Many disciples had already risen; some were gathered in groups, talking. Seeing the three of them walking side by side, vague looks of appraisal swept over them.
This morning was peaceful and serene, just like countless other mornings on Cangya Mountain.
There seemed to be nothing different.
But Yin Biyue soon noticed something wrong.
Because all these disciples were holding their swords in their hands.
On ordinary days when there was nothing to do, cultivators would lightly hang a sword at their waist, carry a heavy sword on their back, or use some spatial method or magical artifact to store their swords away; they rarely held them in hand.
Unless they were about to use them.