Qiu Shui ate and drank his fill in the temple before setting off on his flying sword at a leisurely pace.
The Divine Lord of Civil and Martial Arts saw the great Buddha off, his expression dark as he looked upon the melon seed shells strewn across the floor. Even after being banished to the mortal realm, he had enjoyed every luxury life could offer, but never had he endured such humiliation. His face was, for once, quite unpleasant to behold.
The temple keeper, knowing the Divine Lord’s temper and pride, and fearing he still harboured resentment after hosting those second-generation disciples of great sects, approached with trembling caution. “Divine Lord, of late there’s been no word from the local earth god in Yinliu Village. Would you…”
The Divine Lord’s face was as still and cold as water. He flicked his sleeve impatiently. “If he’s dead, pick a few more. The offerings weren’t issued by me in any case.”
“Yes, yes.”
The temple keeper hurried off to handle the matter, opening the record of merits. A temple runner, having caught wind of the news, sidled up and asked whether something might be arranged.
The keeper shot him a sidelong look and sneered. “You want an official stipend too? Our Temple of Civil and Martial Arts has vast holdings. The Divine Lord himself has eighty-one wives. And that’s not counting the grandfathers, the grandmothers, the ladies, and the princelings. Even the tiniest official rank has a queue stretching centuries ahead. You think a turn like that would fall to you?”
The runner’s face stiffened awkwardly. “But the former land god of Yinliu Village had no name nor title either…”
The keeper lazily turned a page. “A scapegoat, that’s all. You fancy being one?”
The runner gave a sycophantic smile and began to knead his shoulders, not daring to reply.
Meanwhile, halfway through his flight, Qiu Shui sat cross-legged upon his sword, idly reading a storybook, when he suddenly spotted a child riding upon an eagle. His eyes brightened, and he gave chase.
The child looked about eleven or twelve, with rabbit ears. It appeared to be an unremarkable little demon.
But the eagle was another matter: its blood energy was vigorous, its demonic aura pure, and its bearing faintly divine. Its claws and feathers carried something of the golden roc’s splendour.
The eagle’s cultivation was at the late Original Void stage; the rabbit had only just stepped into the Illusory Realm. Neither was formidable.
Qiu Shui lost any interest in bargaining. He veered his sword, cutting off their path.
“Friend, this eagle and I share a fated bond.”
The rabbit had a pretty face, fit to be slaughtered for a meal. The eagle could serve as a mount first and dinner later.
After a moment’s thought, Qiu Shui struck.
The rabbit’s cultivation was indeed shallow. Qiu Shui, now in high spirits, slew it right before the eagle’s eyes, bound the eagle, and tossed it aside.
While roasting rabbit meat, he inspected the pair’s storage rings.
Oh?
Radishes.
Red carrots.
And more radishes.
Qiu Shui laughed in disbelief. What a pair of paupers. He rummaged further and pulled out a few Daoist scrolls, some ancient texts, a smattering of spirit stones and herbs. Because the eagle’s cries were grating, he slit its throat, though not to kill. So he fed it medicine to keep it alive.
“Since you won’t submit to me,” he said lazily, “you needn’t take human form again. Serve as my beast of burden, and that will suffice.”
Sated and indolent, he leaned back. Then caught a glint between the eagle’s feathers. A fine green thread.
Qiu Shui hissed softly. “Immortal Pine?”
Rootless fruit of the Southern Mountain, Tianyi’s Immortal Pine.
He had seen such a thing only once at Tianyi Sect’s Liuyun Peak. But where had this eagle come from?
Could it know the whereabouts of a wild Immortal Pine?
Qiu Shui’s eyes gleamed. He almost regretted slitting its throat so that he might have learned more. Just as frustration stirred, a shadow swept across the sun.
In an instant, he was alert, blade in hand.
A cloud floated by. Upon it stood a tall swordsman in black.
Sword cultivators were famously cold; this one seemed carved from ice itself.
Like a snow mountain: aloof, eternal, and remote.
Qiu Shui blinked, recognising him at once. His eyes lit up, and he called cheerfully, “Aren’t you Tianyi Sect’s senior shixiong? You are on official duty in the mortal realm as well?”
Lately, core disciples from all the major sects had been sent down in turns.
The sword cultivator didn’t answer. His eyes were deep as a still lake. Emotionless, undisturbed. He lowered his gaze to the eagle on the ground, expression unreadable.
To hear of a cultivator butchering demons for sport was an ugly rumour. Qiu Shui felt a pang of unease and his expression turned unpleasant.
The sword cultivator alighted silently, light as a feather.
He had come only to fetch spring water to wash his sword. But perhaps the water had already been tainted.
Then, something caught at his foot.
Gu Ruhui looked down. Lying there was a man… or rather, a demon.
It was bare-chested, black hair spilling down his back, his body handsome and powerful, streaked with blood.
In his despair, he clutched at Gu Ruhui’s spotless black boots, staining them red.
Gu Ruhui said nothing. From behind him, a snow-white sword floated forward, a dark greenish hand resting upon the hilt.
The demon flinched. but like a wounded animal, clung all the tighter.
Qiu Shui’s heart sank.
Gu Ruhui, Tianyi Sect’s eldest disciple was a sword fanatic. In his eyes, there was only the sword. No spring or autumn, no romance or sorrow.
He drew his blade without reason, killed without hesitation.
He simply acted.
There was no sound in the wind.
The final of the Twelve Heavenly Sword Forms, Gu Ruhui could not comprehend it. It consisted of a single line, yet eluded him:
[Men no longer see me; I no longer see the moon.]
[The sword-heart endures; Heaven and Earth are mine.]
[When the edge dulls, the sword-qi shatters all things.]
What did it mean?
He couldn’t understand. So the hand that grasped him did not stay his sword. Calmly, he said, “Let go.”
The demon did not move.
A flicker of sword light and his wrist was severed. The little demon trembled in agony. His throat was torn, so he could not cry out… only low, shuddering whimpers escaped him.
Qiu Shui’s expression faltered; some faint pity stirred. But he dared not speak, nor even draw near.
Gu Ruhui stepped past him. Within this mortal mountain lay a cold spring he favoured; he intended to fetch its water and cleanse his sword.
Qiu Shui let out a silent breath of relief. That demon doesn’t know when to yield. Just kill it, eat it and be done.
He lifted a sleeve, when a thin green pine needle drifted down before Gu Ruhui’s eyes.
Those still, obsidian pupils rippled at last.
He reached out, catching it between his fingers. It seemed to pull him from the depths of his own solitude.
Immortal Pine.
[Xiao Gu-shidi]
The voice was clear yet distant.
The murmur of water, the rustle of wind… they filled his ears. His eyes were flooded with the green of mountains, the crimson of suffering, the helpless anguish of the dying.
He turned sharply and met a pair of eyes half-hidden beneath black hair.
Qiu Shui, just about to strike, froze when suddenly, the snow-white blade now levelled at his throat, a dark green hand poised upon its hilt.
Qiu Shui’s smile stiffened. “Gu-shixiong, what’s the meaning of this?”
No answer.
“Shixiong and I both patrol under Heaven’s decree. Surely you know this is duty. That little demon’s slain countless people, done untold evil. I was simply cleansing the land on Heaven’s behalf…hic, shixiong…”
The blade pressed closer to his throat. Qiu Shui fell silent at once.
Gu Ruhui seemed scarcely aware of him. In his palm lay the green pine needle, still carrying the faint trace of demon energy.
A fold of black fabric dropped before the demon on the ground. A low, emotionless voice spoke. It seemed to be asking something about the pine?
The old eagle did not know. Perhaps he had brushed against it once, long ago, but he couldn’t recall. Some sharp instinct told him not to lie, so he shook his head.
Fortunately, the man did not press him. He merely stood there, lost in thought.
Perhaps this was his only chance to live. The eagle hesitated only a heartbeat before stretching out his hand again. He bowed his head, casting away his pride. His breath came in ragged sobs of pain, yet he clung on, he wanted to live, to avenge his grievances. So, with all his might, he reached out, grasped the man’s sleeve, and rasped two hoarse, broken words: “Master…”
A long silence followed.
Or perhaps only a moment.
He heard the man’s reply. He had no use for the eagle, but neither would he allow Qiu Shui to harm the creature.
The eagle hastily pushed himself upright and followed.
Qiu Shui’s face turned faintly green. He looked as though he wished to argue. but a snow-white sword barred his way.
The eagle clutched his throat, glancing once at Gu Ruhui, who seemed lost in his own thoughts. Turning aside, the eagle picked up a shard of his companion’s bone, tucked it into his robes, then lifted his head to face Qiu Shui.
Qiu Shui’s lips twitched. The submissive little demon now gazed at him coldly… and in that chill stare there was such violence and killing intent that it felt like a blade of ice piercing his eyes.
The eagle bared his bloodied teeth, his mouth forming silent words:
[I will kill you.]
[Tear you to pieces.]
Qiu Shui ground his teeth and forced a smile, but the silent figure was already walking away. The eagle cast one last look at him, then limped after.
Cut the grass by the roots, the saying went.
Else the spring breeze will make it grow again.
And yet.
Qiu Shui seemed to see two vast words hanging in the air before him: Cause and Effect.
He cursed inwardly. Bloody sword cultivators. Knock three sticks together and you still won’t get a word out of them. Communication barriers, negotiation walls. And every one of them has a rotten temper! Draws his sword at the slightest breath of disagreement!
Damn it!
If only I could beat them!
If I could, I’d slaughter every taciturn sword cultivator in the world and return the cultivation realm to a bright, friendly age of conversation!”
The more he thought about it, the angrier he became; the angrier he became, the more he thought. When at last there was no one around, he muttered under his breath, half sneer, half grumble: “No wonder they cast aside disciples like worn shoes. Sword cultivators. None of them human!”
He had barely finished the words when a streak of sword-qi flashed.
Qiu Shui screamed as his arm was severed cleanly. Blood gushed like a crimson pillar. He collapsed to his knees in horror, then transformed into a streak of light and fled, leaving his severed arm behind.
Forget about claiming merit… he hadn’t even dared retrieve the limb.
The forest fell silent once more.
By the cold spring sat Gu Ruhui. His long black hair spilled loosely down his shoulders as he polished his sword beneath the sunlight.
His face was cold, his lips pale and thin, his lashes long and fine as feathers… a beauty both severe and tranquil. A bead of water fell from his lashes, pure and crystalline.
Below, at the foot of the spring, a small demon sat.
His handsome, strong upper body was bare; his eyes remained fixed upon Gu Ruhui without blinking. Around his wounded hand was wound a black ribbon, its origin unknown. Beside him lay a jade bottle of elixir engraved with two characters: Tianyi.
……
In the mortal realm, Fangzhou.
A small village.
It was the season of spring ploughing. Farmers bent over the paddies, planting seedlings; women washed their clothes by the riverbank.
Lately, the Tiandu Guards from Tiandu City had been patrolling the villages more frequently… searching for someone, or perhaps protecting someone.
The lead cavalryman sighed. “They said we were to hunt vampires, but it’s been seven or eight days… dozens of hours. And His Majesty’s vanished again.”
His comrade consoled him. “At least he sent back the spirit crane. Be content. Last time he disappeared for over a year.”
As they spoke, a fierce wind rose. The clear sky darkened in an instant; thunder rumbled, lightning split the clouds.
The Tiandu Guards were stunned. The king’s order to patrol had seemed like another fit of madness. But now, was something truly happening?
“What’s that in the clouds?”
“It’s red… A lantern blown into the sky?”
“Idiot! Those are bloody eyes!”
A deep, resonant bellow rolled from the heavens… the roar of a dragon.
From within the storm burst a colossal black head, scales gleaming, eyes aflame. It swooped low, inhaled once, and in a heartbeat swallowed dozens of villagers.
The mortals scattered in terror.
The Tiandu Guards drew their blades, but the black dragon ignored them, devouring most of the villagers before vanishing into the storm clouds once more.
The surviving guards had no time for grief or rage. “Quick! Send word by spirit crane to His Majesty!. The creature he spoke of has appeared!”
A hundred miles away, upon the branch of an ancient pine, stood a young man in blue.
Rain had begun to fall, drumming softly upon his bamboo hat. He adjusted it slightly, gazing towards the black clouds roiling in the distance.
“It’s here.”
The branch swayed as a white tiger leapt up beside him, eyes fixed upon the storm.
“You guessed right. He’s lost patience at last and dares to appear openly.”
Xue Cuo crossed his arms. “He’s seventy percent certain he can resurrect that evil god. Of course he’ll take the gamble.”
“There are still righteous gods in the mortal world,” the tiger said. “He dares act so brazenly?”
Xue Cuo paused. “Your Majesty, haven’t you ever visited a mortal temple?”
Yin Feixue laughed scornfully. “Of course. Ever heard the sayings? ‘Money opens the gates; without it, stay out.’ ‘Birth, age, sickness and death are in my hands; my promotion and fortune come as I please.’ Those temples live off the mountains and feed on the people. They rake in silver by the cauldron.”
Xue Cuo smiled faintly. “Bo Jinling has come to compete with them for that very trade.”
Yin Feixue raised a brow. “And you, Yinbing-xiong?”
“I,” Xue Cuo replied, “am here to smash their trade entirely.”
With that, he sprang into the air, soaring toward the thunderclouds.
Yin Feixue’s heart leapt with delight. The man was eloquent, handsome, powerful and faultless in every regard!
Just the sort Tiandu City needs!
The king grinned, wild and radiant, and, with the black blade slung across his back, spurred his mount after him. The two of them spirits ablaze, neither yielding an inch, charged straight toward the black dragon.
