“Little shixiong , there are disciples from the Immortal Sect.”
Gu Ruhui looked up towards the sky. A mass of dark cloud pressed low, hiding whatever figures moved upon it.
Just then, a fierce wind rose; bean-sized raindrops came slanting down.
Xue Cuo’s blue robe billowed in the wind. He craned his neck for a look, the teasing smile vanishing from his face. “Shidi, do you recognise whoever’s up there on that cloud?”
He had hoped the righteous temple gods would clash with the evil spirits, yet the current scene was far from normal.
In every respect, it looked like an all-out war.
Yin Feixue sat up at once. The three exchanged a look, each detecting something amiss. Yin Feixue was the first to speak. “Do either of you know about the Merit Book?”
Gu Ruhui said, “Before Tianyi Sect disciples leave the mountain, the elders issue each core disciple a golden register called the Merit Book. Supposedly, it can commune with the spirits of heaven and earth, allowing one to glimpse immortality and seek the Dao. Whoever rescues lives in danger, performs deeds of benevolence and righteousness, and aids the common people, will earn merit points. Eventually they will gain the hope of ascending to the heavens and living forever.”
Yin Feixue raised a brow. “Don’t tell me you have one as well?”
Gu Ruhui shook his head, faintly disdainful. “I only cultivate the sword.”
Besides, he had long felt that the Merit Book and the Wendao Pill, though outwardly different, were in truth the same thing.
He had questioned his shifu about it, yet Jun Wuwei offered no explanation, only the warning that he must not forget his original heart; that seeking shortcuts and abandoning the fundamentals for the trivial would leave him accomplishing nothing.
“This thing carries a whiff of corruption,” Yin Feixue said knowingly, folding his arms. “These people gathering here… it must be to do with merit. Xue Yinbing, what say you?”
Xue Cuo looked thoughtful. After a moment, he summoned his talisman; lotus-like Dao-light rose upon his palm. “I’ll slip in and have a look.”
Yin Feixue grabbed him. His black hair whipped in the wind, and he couldn’t help catching a loose strand between his fingers as he scolded, “The city’s in chaos. No one gets out. What are you rushing into Qianyun City for?”
Xue Cuo said, “There are still people trapped inside. I can’t just leave them to die.”
Without even thinking, Yin Feixue gathered his cloak. “Then I’m coming with you.”
Gu Ruhui was more level-headed than the pair of them. He rose to his feet, seized one by each arm, and pulled them behind him. “Wait.”
“I’ll go up into the clouds and ask. The two of you stay here. Don’t go wandering.”
Xue Cuo rolled up his sleeves. “There won’t be time for that. Right now we need to adapt. If things are urgent, then I—”
Gu Ruhui drew his sword with a steely ring; its edge was cold as snow light. Xue Cuo shut his mouth at once, then extended two fingers to gingerly nudge the three-foot blade a little farther away from his nose.
Gu Ruhui’s gaze was solemn. After a long beat, he said quietly, “If shixiong goes missing again, where am I supposed to look for you?”
Xue Cuo: “…”
Gu Ruhui turned to the majestic white tiger. “City Lord Yin, please keep an eye on my Little shixiong. I’ll be back shortly.”
With that, he soared away on his sword, rising into the clouds. Si Wuxie was ordered to remain behind, guarding Xue Cuo.
Xue Cuo had no intention of staying put. He stroked his chin and tried to take a single step. Si Wuxie instantly followed, emitting a crisp sword-cry as he pushed him bodily back.
Yin Feixue found it enormously entertaining. It was the first time he’d ever seen Xue Cuo so helpless. “Hahaha!”
Xue Cuo: “Shut up.”
Yin Feixue flicked Si Wuxie’s blade and was nearly sliced for his trouble. He laughed. “Fine swordsmanship indeed, Xue Yinbing. And you never told me you had a shouxi* shidi. Doesn’t that mean you’re rather more remarkable than you let on?”
(*TN: chief disciple)
Fretting under his shidi’s supervision, Xue Cuo managed a sour little laugh. Then he suddenly caught sight of Xuan Zhao skulking behind Yin Feixue. He coughed, lifted a brow, and lowered his voice. “More than remarkable… The number-one sword in the Eastern Lands, that’s my father. As for my mother, she’s the Dragon Might Swordmaster, guaranteed soon to ascend. Absolutely genuine, no returns accepted. Well? Terrified yet?”
Yin Feixue burst out laughing, shaking rainwater from her coat. “You cheeky little mud-monkey, trying to bluff me? What’s there to fear? I don’t care if you’re first or second, nor whose son or daughter you are. If you can’t beat me, you’ll yield gracefully.”
Xue Cuo beamed. “Exactly why I like you.”
He smiled suddenly, bright as blossom in spring. “City Lord, take my place for a shichen or two*. I’ll slip into the city and be right back.”
(*TN: two-four hours)
A warning thrill shot through Yin Feixue’s heart. He hurriedly stepped back, but too late. A talisman had already appeared on his thigh, the cinnabar character ‘Bind’ glowing scarlet. He tried to move his leg; it wouldn’t budge.
Xuan Zhao scampered out from behind the tiger and leapt onto Xue Cuo. “Quick, take me with you! In such heavy rain, it’s the perfect time for us water-folk to show our might!”
Yin Feixue realised she had been duped. “You little—Xue Yinbing!”
Xue Cuo flicked out a small paper effigy. It darted into Yin Feixue’s brow. In Si Wuxie’s eyes, the white-furred tiger became Xue Cuo himself, and the sword spirit could no longer tell the difference.
Yin Feixue burst the binding talisman, but Si Wuxie blocked his path at once.
Xue Cuo leapt into the treetops. “Qianyun City is far too dangerous. Your Majesty, you’d better remain here.”
Yin Feixue could only watch as that flash of blue disappeared into the emerald folds of the mountains. Furious, he struck a tree and split it clean through… only to be restrained again by Si Wuxie, leaving him even more indignant.
“Xue Yinbing! You blasted human!”
Only the wind and rain answered him.
“Don’t you dare die in there!”
……
High above.
Many disciples from the Immortal Sects had gathered. Some came from the prestigious mountain gates of the Three Peaks and Five Seas, some from middling sects, others from minor mortal schools.
They clustered upon their respective sect-clouds, armed and ready. At the forefront drifted the elders of each school, lounging upon their cloud, calmly drinking tea and playing chess.
With chess pieces in hand, they observed the city beneath and exchanged polite courtesies, none of them lifting a hand to intervene.
Just then, a streak of silver light flashed across the sky. It landed and resolved into a cold-faced young sword cultivator standing upon a puff of white cloud, a bamboo sword in his arms.
Gu Ruhui alighted on the cloud summit, sweeping his gaze across the assembled cultivators. Some recognised him at once and cried, “It’s shixiong!”
Others, unfamiliar with him, eyed him up and down warily, whispering with open hostility as though he might be some demonic intruder.
“Silence! That’s our sect’s senior shixiong. Te foremost in both sword and martial arts of our generation!”
“The foremost? Don’t make me laugh. Tianyi Sect is good at swordsmanship, yes, but to call him first of our generation. Ha.”
“If you don’t agree, then fight me first!”
Disciples already bore a thousand petty grievances; Tianyi Sect’s dominance had long provoked resentment. Now that they were down the mountain, many felt free to use underhanded means like killing in the shadows and blaming the deeds on evil gods. Why not?
Their clamour at last drew the elders’ attention.
Elder Ma of Tianyi Sect, catching sight of the young sword cultivator, was utterly taken aback. Heavens… Sword Immortal’s disciple? What’s he doing here. Could Sword Immortal himself be present?
The elders who recognised Gu Ruhui hastily looked about; those who didn’t wore faint scowls, thinking, What manner of cultivator is this, to show so little decorum? Elder Ma hurried to explain matters to the others, then stepped forward to greet him.
“Shizhi*, where are you headed?”
(*TN: in case you’ve forgotten, this is the address for one’s fellow disciple’s disciple/ martial nephew)
Gu Ruhui returned their courtesies first, then asked, “The South Sea is rather remote. What brings you here, Ma-shibo*?”
(*TN: in case you’ve forgotten, this is the address for one’s shifu’s fellow disciple/ martial uncle)
Elder Ma wondered why this sword-obsessed youth would take interest in such things, but replied smoothly, “Demons are stirring up trouble here and have harmed our disciples. We’ve come to subdue the wicked and uphold the Heavenly Dao.”
Gu Ruhui cast a look below the cloud bank, his expression turning wintry. “Fellow shibos, you and the temple god conjured a flood that submerged Qianyun, drowning the streets and killing thousands. How does that qualify as ‘subduing demons’ or ‘upholding the Heavenly Dao’?”
That…
How indeed were they to answer? They had dwelt in lofty positions for so long, surrounded by obedient, deferential disciples. When had they ever been interrogated in such a fashion?
Seeing Elder Ma stiffen, Gu Ruhui pressed on. “If you mean to subdue demons, then why do you stand by and watch?”
“You insolent whelp!” snapped an elder from a minor sect, one who had always hovered nearby currying favour. “Where did you crawl from, to speak to your seniors like this? What Dao have you learnt, who was your shifu, and where have you put your manners? Such disrespect at your age. You’ll never ascend in this lifetime!”
He had never set foot in the wider cultivation world, had certainly never seen the chief disciple of a major sect, and had no idea who Gu Ruhui was. His only instinct was to flatter the powerful.
Who knew that the moment the words left his mouth, a palm struck him across the face? He spat blood and tumbled from the clouds; his accompanying disciples were slapped aside as well.
Elder Ma drew back his hand with a cold snort. “Who are you, to yap and snarl before my shizhi?”
The smaller sect elders turned ashen green; their gazes at Gu Ruhui shifted at once. Elder Ma, all benevolence again, said, “Shizhi, you misunderstand shibo.”
He drew Gu Ruhui aside, parted a swathe of cloud, and pointed towards Qianyun City. “Look, see how rampant that evil god has become. We summoned the flood out of necessity, for the sake of the common folk: to forgo a small interest for the greater good.”
“Can the peril of a single city compare with that of an entire province?”
“Can the people of one city be weighed against all under Heaven?”
“Qianyun may be flooded, but the realm beyond is now calm. A few mortals died, yes, but fear was struck into the wicked paths, sparing countless more lives. Surely, you understand this?”
Gu Ruhui’s gaze sharpened like a blade. He said coldly, “You speak of serving the common people, yet your deeds are inhuman.”
Elder Ma’s expression did not waver. He clapped a genial hand on Gu Ruhui’s shoulder. “Dear shizhi, you are too fixated.”
“Have you heard the tale of Liu Lang Taking the Elixir?”
“No? Ah, then you must develop your Daoist learning further. Liu Lang set aside the blood feud of his wife’s death and in the end attained immortality, ushering in ten thousand years of peace. Such breadth of vision. Why must you cling so tightly to what lies before your eyes, letting one leaf obscure your sight?”
Gu Ruhui frowned. “His wife was the one devoured, yet he was the one who became immortal. To me, that is merely generosity with another’s suffering… hypocrisy of the highest order.”
Elder Ma faltered, withdrew his hand, and forced a smile. “Shizhi naturally has his own views, but what happens in Qianyun City is the will of Heaven. You are young yet, easily buffeted. Best not involve yourself.”
The gathered elders followed Elder Ma’s lead, nodding in agreement. No matter how talented Gu Ruhui was, he was but a disciple, while they were elders of many generations. They scarcely regarded him at all.
A mere youngster. He may shout a bit, but what waves can he possibly stir?
