Outside Qianyun City, two streaks of light shot through the sky, landing almost simultaneously on the mountaintop.
Xue Cuo had missed by two split seconds, hovering above the treetops, black hair whipping around him. Gu Ruhui faced him, hands clasped behind his back, his breath long, steady, and serene.
“I lost. You were faster.”
Xue Cuo was decisive. Gu Ruhui, on the other hand, remained silent, showing no joy. He offered a gentle reassurance: “No, you did very well.”
“If you want to practise swordplay, I’ll teach you.”
“The pinnacle of sword mastery allows you to travel a thousand miles in an instant.”
At that moment, the eagle arrived, carrying Master Xuan, possessed by the earth spirit. The eagle squatted on the ground, long hair flowing. “I want to learn swordsmanship too.”
Master Xuan crossed his legs, rattling pottery shards from his ears. “How many years have you been with him?”
The eagle’s eyes darkened, and he gazed up at the sky. “No matter how many years, one day I will master the immortal arts and tear my enemies to pieces myself.”
Xuan Zhao said slowly, deliberately: “That is why he won’t teach you.”
The eagle froze. “What?”
Xuan Zhao remained composed, offering no answer, leaving the eagle to squat on the ground, deep in thought.
Xue Cuo hovered above the treetops. From below, Xuan Zhao called out: “Xue Cuo, it’s quiet around here. Those temple gods haven’t followed us.”
Xue Cuo, who had been observing as well, leapt down and looked closely. The mountains were shrouded in thin mist, devoid of immortal clouds. It was a scene of perfect tranquillity.
Not a single figure in sight, not even the temple gods.
Xue Cuo frowned, puzzled. Strange… could it be that Shidi killed them all with a single sword strike?
But he had seen it clearly: Shidi’s sword had cut through the nets and shattered their weapons, but it had not killed the temple gods. Perhaps they had been frightened, seeing Qianyun City as a tough nut to crack, and had chosen not to pursue them.
Xue Cuo’s expression shifted. It seemed his own strength had been so overwhelming that it had prevented them from being lured, thus no ambush succeeded. “Since this route is blocked, we’ll have to try something else.”
Xuan Zhao, though venerable, was a master of adaptation. When his own safety was not at stake, he displayed considerable foresight and cunning. Like Xue Cuo, he had guessed the reason.
“The evil gods in Qianyun City are strong now,” he said. “We should divide and conquer. In my opinion, we need to fan the flames at the righteous temple. Make them see tangible benefits.”
Xue Cuo nodded repeatedly. “Master Xuan is right. Not just the temple gods, but within Qianyun City itself, some work must be done.”
He glanced at Xuan Zhao and proposed, “You go to Qianyun City, and I’ll scout the South Lord’s Temple.”
Xuan Zhao shuddered and shook his head. “No, no, no. Those things have been feeding on blood! My old turtle soul has never been worshipped, but to them it’s a tonic of great potency.”
Xue Cuo’s eyes flickered with understanding. “Then Master Xuan can investigate outside the city, and I’ll go into Qianyun City?”
Xuan Zhao hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
He thought it better not to enter the city, but he did not dwell on it. If given the choice, he likely would have refused altogether. Hiding within his shell, wasn’t that true freedom?
Gu Ruhui watched his shidi consult with the clay statue, unable to intervene. It seemed that over the years, his little shixiong had cultivated the Xianghuo Divine Dao.
If Shimu and Shifu knew…
Gu Ruhui’s mind shifted, and the unreleased paper crane in his hand crumbled into dust.
He lifted it gently away.
Among the three thousand great ways of the world, the Xianghuo Divine Dao had long since fractured and faded. This path to immortality was destined to be fleeting.
Had his little shixiong, stranded in the mortal realm and left with no alternative, chosen this path?
If so, Gu Ruhui did not wish for him to be hindered.
Yet if he asked his shixiong now, he would likely reveal nothing. What had truly happened back then? His spirit altar had been damaged, his foundation for life compromised, yet his cultivation remained formidable.
Had he… made some bargain with an evil god? Who had deceived him?
Gu Ruhui’s sword-heart stirred, and his bamboo sword trembled slightly. His expression calm, he landed before Xue Cuo. “Shixiong, I’ll enter the city with you.”
The eagle interjected quickly: “Master, then I—”
For the first time, Gu Ruhui looked at the eagle. He had never needed a servant, and had never regarded him as one.
Yet sometimes, the obsessions of the heart could not be so easily dismissed.
This eagle had, in truth, been a companion. Gu Ruhui paused, then asked, “What is your name?”
The eagle froze, then his excitement erupted. His chest heaved, eyes burning, lips trembling, heart overwhelmed with joy: “I am Ying Xiao.”
Gu Ruhui said, “Ying Xiao, what do you wish to learn?”
Ying Xiao knelt on one knee. “Heavenly Sword.”
Gu Ruhui shook his head. “You are a demon. If you study the Twelve Heavenly Sword Forms, your bones will break, and you will die.”
Ying Xiao’s eyes blazed, teeth gritted. “But what difference is there between human and demon? I will train diligently, and I will not fail it.”
Gu Ruhui shook his head. “You cannot learn it.”
Ying Xiao’s face darkened. A clear voice then cut through the moment: “Ying Xiao, Shidi means that the Heavenly Sword was created by humans. To abandon your demon cultivation and study the human path is to risk losing one thing while chasing another. Among masters, victory can hinge on the smallest detail. To pursue the Heavenly Sword with such a flaw would only bring harm.”
Ying Xiao understood instantly. Seeing Gu Ruhui offer no rebuttal, he knew his shidi was not a narrow-minded man.
Shame coloured Ying Xiao’s face. He bowed his head. “I will learn whatever you teach, Master.”
Gu Ruhui hummed, then asked, “Are you willing to protect Land God Xuan Zhao?”
Xuan Zhao shouted: “I am not a mere land god! I am… I am—”
Mid-sentence, he fell silent, turning into a mouthless gourd.
Ying Xiao lowered his head. “Very well.”
Xue Cuo handed Xuan Zhao the paper figurine, Xiao Jia, used for telepathic communication, and instructed: “Keep it free of blood and grease. If you cannot reach me, light an incense stick and chant the Dharma name ‘Du’e Tongzi’. I will contact you within a few hours at most.”
He gave several talismans, explained their uses, and passed the tortoise shell to Xuan Zhao. “Be cautious.”
Master Xuan, with the shell in hand, felt at ease, overjoyed. “Very well. Go ahead. I’ll take care of the eagle.”
The four parted on the mountaintop.
Xue Cuo, meticulous and prudent, erased all traces of their gathering. Before entering the city, he concealed himself with talismans.
Gu Ruhui watched silently, heart aching. His shidi had clearly suffered greatly outside.
Xue Cuo looked at Qianyun City’s gates. Once inside, it would be a den of dragons and tigers, impossible to escape quickly.
The two entered, each with their own thoughts. Gu Ruhui held his bamboo sword, scanning the surroundings, frowning.
Xue Cuo observed more closely: men, women, and children alike carried a faint black cloud about them. Not dense, but lingering; their vitality untouched yet stifled.
If left unchecked, death would be inevitable.
Gu Ruhui’s bamboo sword vibrated, and he said coldly, “There is a demon.”
Xue Cuo whispered: “This city once held a Ren Temple. About ten years ago, it was destroyed, and four evil gods arrived.”
“Now they occupy the east, west, south, and north, each seizing the worshippers’ incense. Among them is a deity, Chongming, who oversees the city’s cycle of reincarnation. He possesses the reincarnation flame left behind by an ancient goddess, making him exceedingly difficult to confront.”
“There’s also a Water Spirit Lord here, hidden behind these four beings. He allows the faithful to spread his name and deeds, yet offers no incense. I imagine he is a terrifying presence, perhaps even an ancient deity.”
Gu Ruhui’s brows furrowed ever tighter as he listened. Ancient goddesses, reincarnation flames, evil spirits, ghostly domains. His little shixiong had been facing these perils all along? And with such familiarity, he must have been in life-or-death situations for years.
“Shidi, come with me to the inn first.”
Xue Cuo tugged Gu Ruhui along and found an inn, booking two upper rooms. “Gege, rest a while. By nightfall, the city will look entirely different. I’ll come for you then.”
Gu Ruhui said calmly, “Don’t trouble yourself.”
Xue Cuo, without noticing, rubbed his brow. He realised he’d been unconsciously frowning.
Gu Ruhui patted his little shixiong’s shoulder, closed the door, and sat in the room, yet he could not settle. He glanced at the bamboo sword, a thought stirring.
A rough calculation suggested it was just over a thousand miles away. If he hurried, he could return in two hours… just as night would fall.
Leaving the bamboo sword to guard the area, Gu Ruhui slipped out with the sword he had wielded when ascending to the immortal realm, Si Wuxie.
The bamboo sword was indignant and even more so when Si Wuxie, lacking a sword spirit but endowed with a sliver of awareness had mocked it. Yet the master’s decision was final, and the bamboo sword could only brood silently. After all, it was the first sword in his master’s heart; Si Wuxie merely rode on the memories of childhood affection. Ugh!
One thousand and one hundred miles away lay a cold pond, home to a species of silver fish found only in the world of cultivation.
Meanwhile, Xue Cuo, alone, studied the city’s energy, deducing and pondering the changes within. What were these evil spirits planning?
One city, tens of thousands of lives…
Did they intend to devour them all?
Eat their dead brains!
Xue Cuo snorted.
At that moment, a sudden gust of wind blew. Xue Cuo spun, talismans flickering at his fingertips. “Who’s there?”
The window was wide open.
A scent of strong liquor drifted in.
Someone had perched on the windowsill, tall and slender, leaning slightly against the frame with a relaxed, graceful poise. Silky silver hair, softly curled, draped over his shoulders, radiating an air of unfettered freedom.
“Yin Feixue.”
The man carried a wine jar, golden eyes half-smiling. “Xue Yinbing, you’ve been so hard to find.”
Xue Cuo: “…”
That day, after a drunken stupor, Yin Feixue had vanished upon waking. On the deck, he’d seen his subordinates gaping: “My lord… your tail!”
Yin Feixue frowned and turned to find a circle of lifelike butterflies dangling from his tail. He couldn’t shake them off, couldn’t grab them.
As soon as he lowered his tail, the butterflies swirled around him.
Yin Feixue howled in frustration. Realising only one culprit could be responsible, he was forced to endure the human form, hairless and restrained, rather than taking his tiger shape. His anger was boundless.
As he spoke, a wine jar flew toward him. Xue Cuo reacted instantly, catching it and dissipating its momentum. He broke the mud seal, sniffed, and his eyes lit up. “Fine wine! Where did you get this?”
Yin Feixue, exasperated, laughed angrily. “Give it here! How dare you drink this king’s wine?”
Xue Cuo looked at his human form, imagining the frustration of being unable to transform into a tiger. He could not help but chuckle, fingers deftly holding the jar, eyes curved in amusement. “I merely indulged your longing to chase butterflies. Will You Majesty repay me with ingratitude?”
“Preposterous!”
Yin Feixue lunged like a pouncing tiger, attempting to seize the jar. Xue Cuo retreated swiftly, drinking a small sip in passing, raising an eyebrow. “Want it? Then take it by skill.”
Yin Feixue refused to yield. This time, Xue Cuo remained unscathed. The two clashed violently within the room. Yin Feixue pressed Xue Cuo against the door panel, one hand hooked around the jar, face calm as he quietly tugged it toward himself. “Out of strength?” he mocked.
Just as the jar reached his lips, another hand pulled it back.
Xue Cuo squinted, exerting his strength. “Even in human form, Your Majesty is dainty. Can’t handle strong liquor?”
Yin Feixue, seething, ground his teeth. “I’ll kill you!”
Xue Cuo: “Then do it.”
Neither relented; their fight raged fiercely.
Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door. A deep, slightly cold voice asked, “Little shixiong, are you asleep?”
Xue Cuo: “…”
A long silence followed. Through the window, a vague figure pressed against the door.
Gu Ruhui was silent for a heartbeat, then drew his sword, cleaving the door with a single stroke. “Little shixiong.”
Smoke and dust swirled lightly. With a thud, the wine jar fell, aroma spilling forth.
Sensing the threat, Yin Feixue instantly transformed into a beast with a tiger’s head and a human body. Black knife in hand, he eyed the door warily.
A fierce tiger, a mighty demon king.
His molten-gold eyes glimmered with wisdom and authority, making it clear he was not to be trifled with.
If only…
He weren’t surrounded by so many butterflies.
Gu Ruhui stared expressionlessly at the large white tiger, fur fluffy and pristine, golden eyes like stars. Surrounded by countless delicate butterflies, it was a sight of pure beauty and innocence.
The butterflies fluttered and landed on the tiger’s nose.
The tiger tilted its head, sneezed.
Gu Ruhui immediately sheathed his sword, suppressing all aggression.
In his other hand, he held an ancient sword, its blade lined with rows of translucent, glistening fish flesh. “Little shixiong, this is…”
Yin Feixue thumped the floor. “Xue Yinbing!”
Xue Cuo could no longer suppress a laugh. Catching a butterfly, he bent down. “Your Majesty, you’re not dreaming about this, are you?”
