Chapter 16#
Trimming the Candle#
There were many ways for cultivators to travel. Those above the Lesser Sage realm could ride the wind and cover ten thousand miles in a day, or possess the means to tear through space.
Even those who had merely stepped onto the path of cultivation could consume their own true essence to increase speed, activate magical artifacts, or tame exotic beasts.
However, in the current world, after the “Age of Dharma Decline,” traveling artifacts had become rare, and exotic beasts were even harder to come by. This was because exotic beasts had strict living requirements—they needed not only spiritually rich terrain and veins formed by heaven and earth but also masters truly recognized by them.
It was said that the Emperor of the Northern Continent, one of the Six Lesser Sages, kept four Green-Winged Luan birds to pull his imperial chariot. Each year, this cost eight hundred thousand spirit crystals and sixty thousand jin of vermilion fruits.
Few in the world could afford such extravagance.
With the current cultivation levels of Yin Biyue and his two companions, if they pushed their true essence to the extreme, they could travel a thousand miles a day.
But as Duan Chongxuan put it, “It’s rare to get down the mountain. We have plenty of time—why rush? Senior Brother’s intention is for us to take a good walk.”
Yin Biyue had no objection, as he wanted to learn more about this world. Though countless records and texts existed in his memories, how could they compare to the real feeling of walking through it himself?
Seeing him nod, Luo Mingchuan also nodded.
Leaving the territory of Cangya Mountain, they passed through Jin City and Yang City, crossed Panlong Ridge, took the Fourth Official Road of the Western Continent, and headed south. They would take a boat out of the Western Continent, cross the Floating Sky Sea, and finally rendezvous with the Cangya Mountain team in Ye City of the Southern Continent before heading to Chongming Mountain for the gathering.
This was the route they had set. More precisely, it was the route Liu Qishuang had set.
It was neither too smooth and uneventful nor did it require passing through extremely dangerous places like the “Ten Thousand Great Mountains.” Liu Qishuang had carefully considered and finally settled on this route—one of moderate difficulty.
In the bustling Jin City, they went to a teahouse to listen to storytellers, hearing the entire teahouse full of patrons describe the Flower-Picking Festival in the most extravagant terms.
In Yang City, they changed out of their Daoist robes and bought ordinary clothes. With white horses and whips in hand, they rode along the embankment like three young gentlemen traveling away from home.
What surprised Yin Biyue was that along the way, the chatterbox and Luo Mingchuan got along quite well. Because he himself was not talkative, it was actually these two who interacted the most.
They were courteous and polite, smiling and chatting, with something of the flavor of a gentleman’s friendship.
One might even think Luo Mingchuan was Duan Chongxuan’s close friend, rather than someone who had been deliberately targeted in Xihua Peak.
Yin Biyue thought, This must be the effect of the protagonist’s halo.
…Until the day before they entered Panlong Ridge, Duan Chongxuan decided to change clothes.
Yin Biyue also felt uncomfortable being stared at because of his hair color. After thinking it over, he added a dark cloak with a hood.
He was now quite satisfied with his appearance. With the hood pulled up, only his thin jawline was visible—a gloomy vibe added ten points!
But when Duan Chongxuan came out of the inn room, he felt he was going blind.
This outfit—clearly not available anywhere in Yang City—was definitely brought from his own storage.
He wore a gold-thread-embroidered long robe with a cross collar and flying luan birds, a purple-gold beaded crown on his head, a white jade belt with gilded dragon patterns, and a filigree-inlaid coral buckle.
The brilliance of jewels and gold was blinding. From a distance, he looked like…
A walking little golden man!!!
If his previous attire had been naturally luxurious and noble, now he looked like a nouveau riche dandy from a wealthy family—loaded with money but stupid.
Yin Biyue guessed that Duan the Chatterbox might have been stimulated by something.
But the chatterbox himself was smiling happily, so it wasn’t easy for him to say anything.
When Luo Mingchuan came out, he hesitated slightly, clearly also dazzled by this outfit.
Then he cleared his throat softly and looked away. “Let’s go.”
Yin Biyue thought he saw the words “too painful to look at” on his face.
The trees cast thick shadows, blocking out the sky. The cool mountain wind was filled with the scent of rough wood and earth.
The three walked in silence along a winding path for a long time. The sun gradually slanted westward.
Yin Biyue thought to himself, Although I’ve never heard of any powerful fierce beasts on Panlong Ridge, is this outfit of the chatterbox—which can be seen from ten li away reflecting light—really not a death flag?
Speak of the devil.
Yin Biyue’s spiritual sense stirred slightly, and he stopped.
Luo Mingchuan also halted in place.
Five breaths later, a rustling sound came from the forest, growing closer.
Whoever was coming meant trouble, carrying heavy malevolent aura, and made no effort to hide their tracks.
Accompanied by a loud shout—“Stop right there!!"—more than a dozen big men leaped out of the dense forest.
Their leader, a scar-faced man eight feet tall, wielded a thousand-jin board axe. “Where did you come from? Don’t you know the rules! Today, you’re passing by our door. Silver or spirit stones—hand over everything!”
The underlings behind him echoed loudly, “And if you don’t, leave your lives!”
Then came a burst of laughter.
As the bandit leader began to speak, Yin Biyue silently recited the lines in his mind.
Word for word.
What a familiar scene!
Once upon a time, he himself had stood behind a shaggy-haired youth in torn jeans with hair covering his face, holding an iron rod—well, no, he didn’t even get to hold the iron rod. He had just silently smirked along when the leader said, “Little girl, want to have some fun with us brothers?” Then he heard a “Stop!” and was kicked away by the protagonist as the leader shouted, “Brothers, charge!”
Thinking of this, Yin Biyue felt a bit disgusted.
These people clearly lacked professional qualifications. Look at the one in the back—his expression wasn’t even right! His mind was clearly elsewhere!
Bad review!
Perhaps because he was following the protagonist, the script had changed. Yin Biyue counted to three but didn’t hear the familiar “stop.”
Instead, he heard a soft chuckle beside him.
The one who laughed was Duan the Chatterbox.
No wonder the chatterbox laughed. The three of them, who were going to attend the Flower-Picking Festival—the leading disciple of Cangya and the disciple of the Sword Saint—had actually… been held up by bandits!
This news alone would keep the entire cultivation world laughing for a year.
Yin Biyue looked at their outfits. The three of them looked like two attendants accompanying a wealthy dandy on a trip.
It really couldn’t be blamed on the bandit squad for being shortsighted.
Luo Mingchuan’s expression was calm, neither angry nor annoyed, as if he intended to reason with them.
Before he could speak, Duan Chongxuan, in a relaxed manner, fanned himself and said, “Do you know who stands beside me?”
The bandit squad was dumbfounded.
Duan Chongxuan confidently stepped behind Luo Mingchuan and declared,
“The one beside me is none other than the esteemed senior disciple of Cangya Mountain, the next sect leader of Cangya, Senior Brother Luo Mingchuan!” Then he turned his nose up, with an extremely contemptuous and punchable expression. “Aren’t you going to kneel and call ‘daddy’?”
The squad leader immediately exploded. “Bah! What senior disciple of Cangya? I’m the Emperor of the Northern Lands himself!”
Duan Chongxuan’s expression became strange and calm. “No, you’re not.”
The bandit gang had already charged forward.
But before they could get within ten paces of the three, they flew high into the air and crashed backward. The leader was injured the most severely, breaking two large trees before hitting the ground.
An invisible barrier of true essence had sent them flying.
Luo Mingchuan hadn’t moved an inch.
The bandit squad lay on the ground groaning and spitting blood. They couldn’t figure out, even to their deaths, how their years of robbery experience had failed them. How had the fat sheep they’d picked turned into an iron plate?
The leader of this group had already passed through marrow cleansing—he had stepped onto the path of cultivation. A few others were also in the Qi Refining stage, though none had potential for further advancement. Such a bandit group on Panlong Ridge was more than enough to deal with merchant caravans or travelers who couldn’t afford guards. Panlong Ridge lacked spiritual energy and had no heavenly treasures, so cultivators rarely came here.
There was no doubt—they had all been lured by the walking little golden man.
From the moment the bandit squad raised their feet to the moment they hit the ground, less than ten seconds had passed. Luo Mingchuan turned back and said, “Let’s go.”
The three walked forward, passing through faint moans and pleas for mercy.
They encountered similar squads at intervals of about ten li. Even at dusk, there were groups holding torches coming.
Thus, the above scene repeated on a loop.
Yin Biyue seemed to understand a bit of the chatterbox’s intent.
But if it was only to cause trouble and annoy Luo Mingchuan, this method was too low-level.
So what exactly did the chatterbox want to do?
It couldn’t be to purge the bandits and enforce justice for heaven, could it?
After nightfall, it finally quieted down.
The cold moonlight filtered through the dense tree shadows. The night breeze in late spring added a chill.
The three found a secluded mountain cave. Duan Chongxuan lit a fire talisman, burning away cobwebs, dead branches, and weeds. He took out a luminous pearl and embedded it into the stone wall of the cave, and a soft halo instantly flowed out.
Luo Mingchuan and Yin Biyue prepared to sit in meditation.
Duan Chongxuan then took out a large sandalwood bed with a gauze canopy and asked,
“Fourth Senior Brother, I have another bed prepared. Do you want one?”
Yin Biyue, though he thought he had gotten used to the chatterbox’s quirky style, couldn’t help but twitch his mouth slightly. “No need.”
The chatterbox said “Oh” with some regret and went to bed.
The moon’s shadow gradually shifted westward, slanting into the cave, mingling with the radiance of the luminous pearl.
In the quiet night, there were only the sounds of insects and the rustling of wind through the mountain forest.
The cave was small. Yin Biyue and Luo Mingchuan were meditating only three feet apart.
In the cultivation world, this was a very taboo distance.
If they were strangers, three feet represented rudeness.
If they were enemies, three feet meant danger.
Yin Biyue felt somewhat uncomfortable.
He didn’t know if it was a residual reaction from this body or his own inner wariness.
After reaching the Concentration Realm, a cultivator’s five senses became extremely sharp. Even without trying, one could feel the other’s breathing, or even… the temperature on a cool night.
As time passed and the night deepened, this feeling multiplied.
He didn’t know if Luo Mingchuan, who was always so proper, was equally uncomfortable at this moment, or if he had already sunk into meditation and even entered a good state, perhaps even planning to take out spirit stones to start cultivating. After all, he was a spiritual cultivator and would always carry spirit stones.
On the contrary, Luo Mingchuan was reminiscing.
He felt this sensation was familiar—like going back to the night study hall of Lanyuan Academy. The cold and aloof young man sat at his desk reading, the warm yellow glow of the green lamp falling on his profile, somehow giving a faint illusion of tenderness.
And he himself?
Sometimes he sat at the desk next to him, also lighting a lamp, with thick scrolls piled on the table.
When tired of reading, he would look at him.
Even though the young man’s features still carried a hint of childishness, he was still good-looking. A few more glances seemed to relieve fatigue. The young man was also extremely focused on his reading, never noticing his little actions.
The night study hall was connected to the library by an sky corridor (sky corridor). Some books were not allowed to be taken out but needed to be read overnight, so students would come here.
Luo Mingchuan didn’t come often, but it seemed that every time he did, he could see the young man sitting in his fixed seat by the west window.
Sometimes he couldn’t help but smile inwardly. Junior Brother, you’re still so young. Staying up late often will stunt your growth.
He had thought this countless times in his heart but never said it out loud.
Because he remembered that the young man seemed to dislike being told he was young.
Students who came for night reading, when tired late at night, would often whisper a few words with their neighbors, which could both refresh the mind and sometimes make friends.
But he and the young man had sat next to each other countless times without saying a word.
Because the young man never showed signs of fatigue, nor did he seem inclined to speak.
So he didn’t want to intrude rashly.
Until one time, the young man frowned slightly as he looked at the green lamp.
The academy valued simplicity and frugality, so there were no brass lamps with fish oil. And when a green lamp burned for a long time, the wick would split, dimming the light.
Luo Mingchuan glanced at it, couldn’t help but smile, and asked softly, “Junior Brother, did you forget to bring lamp scissors?”
The young man turned his face. His distinct black-and-white eyes reflected the warm candlelight, the daytime coldness fading away. “Yes.”
So Luo Mingchuan rose to trim the wick for him. He leaned slightly, his long hair falling. Close enough to see the shadow cast by the young man’s eyelashes. Their two shadows fell on the west window, as if blending together.
A moment later, the desk was as bright as before. He also retreated to a polite distance.
The young man nodded. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Junior Brother.” He put down the lamp scissors and introduced himself.
“Luo Mingchuan from Qiongzhou, Eastern Continent.”
“Yin Biyue from Ying’an City, Central Continent.”
This was the first sentence they exchanged after a year of enrollment. And in the three years at the academy, it was one of the rare words spoken.
The night study hall with its interweaving light and shadow, the thick dossiers accumulated over years standing silent, the old and mottled green lamp bursting into a flower of light.
Time seemed to stop at that moment.
Yin Biyue felt that Luo Mingchuan was probably also very uncomfortable. Because his breathing was unsettled.
Fortunately, at the hour of Maoshi (5-7 AM), the sky began to lighten. Yin Biyue picked up his sword and walked out of the cave.
The morning breeze brushed his face, blowing away the restless thoughts of the night.
Dawn was about to break. It was the perfect time for sword practice.