Xue Cuo was suddenly hoisted high, limbs spread wide. His heart sank.
“What are you doing?!”
“Shidi, Shidi, save me!”
Splash—
With an enormous splash, Xue Cuo was flung into the deep pool, sending water flying everywhere. Kong Yun snapped open his feather fan to block the spray.
Yin Feixue glanced over, only to see that Xue Cuo sank straight down without resurfacing.
Xi Tao looked at Ren Shu. Ren Shu said, “Xiao Cuo… can’t swim?”
What nonsense.
A disciple of the Goddess of the Great Loch. Even if he truly couldn’t swim, which marsh would dare drown him?
Gu Ruhui and Yin Feixue, both old hands, remained unmoved. Only the honest monk stepped closer… promptly to be seized by a pair of scissoring legs that appeared out of nowhere and dragged him into the water, plunging four or five metres down.
Xue Cuo burst back to the surface, flinging water from his hair and face, laughing wildly. He immediately ambushed Ren Shu and dragged him down as well.
Three dripping figures surfaced together, all staring at Kong Yun.
Kong Yun’s feathers bristled. He stepped back. “Don’t even think about it.”
Xue Cuo swiftly stripped down to his underclothes, floated on his back, and beckoned teasingly. “Xiao Yun, this water’s wonderfully cool.”
Gu Ruhui said calmly, “Peacocks dislike water. Don’t trouble him.”
Xue Cuo looked doubtful. “Really?”
He paddled over, long hair drifting across the water, dark eyes bright and wet, broad shoulders and long arms fully revealed. He was like some breath-feeding water demon.
Kong Yun stared for a moment, looked away, then slowly turned his gaze back and stared openly.
Suddenly, Yin Feixue splashed the water, drawing Xue Cuo’s attention. Kong Yun frowned as both looked over.
“He won’t go into the water,” Yin Feixue said.
Xue Cuo made a sound of surprise. “You know?”
Yin Feixue crooked a finger. When Xue Cuo leaned closer, he flicked him lightly on the forehead. “Don’t ask about demon matters.”
Every feather at Kong Yun’s temples stood on end.
All at once, he swept his sleeve and transformed into a magnificent peacock, dazzling and resplendent, plunging straight into the pool. His massive true form pressed everyone against the shore, forcing the water to spill out in waves.
Gu Ruhui coughed violently, wine spurting from his mouth. He wiped it away with composure and glanced at Yin Feixue, a trace of cool reproach in his eyes. “You just had to provoke him.”
Yin Feixue said nothing. His tiger claws braced against the peacock, leaving a small pocket of space. Xue Cuo was crushed against Yin Feixue’s chest, struggling to lift his head and gasp. “Xiao Yun!”
Kong Yun trilled softly, flapped his wings, and let out a rough, triumphant laugh.
“Wait, where’s Xi Tao?” someone asked.
Ren Shu winced. “He’s underneath. Fellow Daoist Kong Yun. If you don’t get up, we’ll be collecting the little monk’s remains.”
Kong Yun instantly transformed back into human form.
Before long, a gleaming bald head slowly surfaced. Face down, of course.
After Xue Cuo and Yin Feixue spoke, the ice between them finally broke. Man and tiger slung arms over shoulders, drinking and laughing together without restraint.
Gu Ruhui, meanwhile, sat quietly cultivating, contemplating the sword… its Dao, its techniques.
His mind had always been clear. His progress along the sword path had been steady and unhesitating. Yet now, having witnessed the manifold conditions of the human world, he looked back upon his swordsmanship and found that every strike severed karma, every strike questioned the swordsman himself.
Clarify the sword-heart. Comprehend sword-intent. Attain the sword-Dao.
He had trained under his master in the world’s strongest Twelve Heavenly Sword Forms. He should not harbour doubt.
Resolutely, Gu Ruhui stripped away the clutter of thought, leaving only the fiercest desire behind.
Heaven and earth are mine. With one strike, all is shattered.
Every path is a Great Dao; all things are freedom.
So long as all can be relinquished—relinquish them.
Suddenly, his backside went cold.
Gu Ruhui snapped his eyes open and grabbed at his waistband. He met a pair of pitch-black eyes. He instinctively loosened his grip. “Little shixiong”
The waistband was yanked straight down.
Ren Shu wanted to laugh but didn’t dare. Xi Tao had already clasped his palms together serenely, trousers in hand.
It had begun when the cold spring’s current swept away Xue Cuo’s waistband. Xue Cuo retaliated by stripping Xi Tao, who was laughing the loudest.
Xi Tao promptly turned and stripped Ren Shu.
Ren Shu didn’t dare touch Yin Feixue or Gu Ruhui. Instead, he and Xue Cuo wrestled in the water, snatching any waistband they could. Whoever grabbed one first put it on.
As they fought, the other two lost theirs as well.
Ren Shu quietly backed away. Xi Tao kindly pressed the waistband he held into Xue Cuo’s hands. Xue Cuo stood there, holding it, torn with indecision.
Two tall figures loomed behind him. One tiger claw, one calloused hand… resting on his shoulders at the same time.
Xue Cuo vanished underwater with a splash.
Yin Feixue transformed into a tiger and gave chase; Si Wuxie followed close behind. Before long, the culprit was apprehended and hauled ashore.
Laughter rang out along the bank, while the water echoed with indignant roars. They played and laughed, unaware of time passing.
Two days later.
Xi Tao came to bid Xue Cuo farewell. Bearing a great vow, he was destined to roam the entire divine continent and could not remain in one place for long.
Before parting, he and Xue Cuo walked along the edge of the great marsh.
From the farms along the shore came laughter and curling plumes of cooking smoke. A peasant woman returning from the fields, hoe over her shoulder and child in tow, met him on the path and insisted he come home to eat.
Xi Tao smiled and gently declined. He patted the child’s head. He remembered him: an orphan whose parents had both died, later taken in by others. He said, “This little monk must be going.”
The child asked, “Will you come back?”
Xi Tao replied, “When I’ve walked all of divine lands, I will.”
The child frowned. “That will take a very long time.”
“Yes,” Xi Tao said.
The child tugged at his sleeve. “When you come back, you must come to my house.”
Xi Tao nodded. “I promise.”
And so they parted.
Xue Cuo walked with Xi Tao along the edge of the great marsh. A small skiff drifted past on the water, and Xue Cuo asked,
“I’ve never asked you this before, Xi Tao-gege, why did you choose the Buddhist path?”
Xi Tao answered, “At first, it was because I had lost faith in people. But later, I understood that Buddha is human, and human is Buddha.”
Something stirred faintly in Xue Cuo’s heart. He handed Xi Tao a stack of red talisman paper.
The little boat cut across the water. A soft breeze lifted the monk’s snow-white robes. Standing aboard the skiff, Xi Tao pressed his palms together and bowed slightly. “It is time for me as well. To seek my own Dao.”
Xue Cuo watched quietly as the skiff drifted farther and farther away. Only when it vanished from sight did he turn and make his unhurried way back.
The second to leave was Kong Yun.
Summoned by his clan, he was always on the move now… hurried, increasingly solitary and aloof. Only in Xue Cuo’s presence did he show a trace of cheer. “Don’t bother seeing me off. It’s troublesome. I’m leaving.”
Xue Cuo asked, “Once you go, when will we meet again?”
Kong Yun fell silent.
After all, he was a lesser saint of the demon clan, bearing a heavy burden. The clan had permitted him to roam in search of someone, so that his Dao-heart might be fulfilled. Now that he had found Xue Cuo, he had no lingering attachments. He still had promises to keep. He had to return, to cultivate in earnest, to break through, and to restore the demon court.
He wanted to leave at once.
Yet when he saw Xue Cuo’s departing back, his steps stalled. Kong Yun reached out his hand. “No matter when, no matter where. you and I are brothers.”
Xue Cuo broke into a radiant smile, like spring blossoms just opening. He clasped Kong Yun’s hand, brows lifted and eyes bright.
“Brothers.”
Kong Yun dissolved into a streak of light and vanished.
Xue Cuo remained seated on the mountain peak, quietly gazing over the vast expanse of Qianyun Marsh.
Everyone else had things they must do. So when, he wondered, would his earthly divine realm finally take shape?
After seeing his friends off, Xue Cuo set to work.
He renamed Goddess Village as Qianyun Village. The great marsh became Qianyun Marsh. Only the eighty-nine peaks retained their old name: the Goddess’s Eighty-Nine Peaks.
On the day the names were fixed, a subtle and mysterious current descended. It was formless, intangible, yet carrying the sense that something profoundly good had been gained.
“Merit?” someone murmured.
“I remember back at Broken Head Mountain. After killing Yao Jinling, you even gave me three thousand merits.”
Yin Feixue understood the sensation perfectly.
Xue Cuo did not deny it. “Yes. It’s the sort of thing everyone wants.”
Yin Feixue sounded unconcerned. “Heaven and earth may grant it to me. And they may just as easily take it away.”
Xue Cuo found the remark amusing, almost heretical. And yet, he liked it very much.
The two fell silent.
The waters of the great marsh flowed on, slowly and endlessly, until they merged with the South Sea.
Xue Cuo handed Yin Feixue a storage ring filled with spirit stones for cultivation and talismans to dispel evil. “When will Your Majesty be leaving?”
Yin Feixue did not answer directly. Instead, he asked, “Tell me. Are we friends now?”
Xue Cuo knew he was teasing him about all the times he had slipped away without a word. With a sigh, he replied, “Not friends. Brothers.”
“Brothers,” Yin Feixue repeated softly.
He rubbed one of the tiger’s ears and said suddenly, “You’ve never seen my human form in daylight.”
Xue Cuo froze for a moment. Yin Feixue did not care for his human shape… he knew that.
A tiger, after all, found its true form majestic. Humans had too little fur, and their teeth were dull. What was there to admire?
But peacocks were different. They lacked fur and claws, and had none of that thick, snow-white pelt. Yet Xue Cuo saw Kong Yun’s human form every day and never once thought it ugly.
Which meant… it must be beautiful.
“Your Majesty’s tiger form is already most imposing,” Xue Cuo said earnestly.
“Dignified, resolute in slaughter.”
“No less magnificent than a demon-clan lesser saint.”
“Is that so?”
Maples burned red like fire. Below them, blue waters stretched vast and mist-shrouded.
Yin Feixue shifted into human form.
Silver hair spilled down over his shoulders like flowing silk. Nobility seemed innate to him. His features exquisitely handsome, his presence naturally exalted.
Standing so close to Xue Cuo, the scene resembled white jade blooming with fragrant herbs, or golden orchids set upon a jade dish. Two men of utterly different bearing and temperament… yet both striking, their auras harmonising perfectly, like a painting slowly unfolding.
“Remember this,” Yin Feixue said, smiling. The silver demonic mark upon his brow shimmered faintly.
Xue Cuo clasped his fists. “I would not dare forget.”
“See me off,” Yin Feixue said.
Xue Cuo nodded. Together they flew from Qianyun Marsh, parting only at a wind-and-rain pavilion.
Xue Cuo turned into a streak of light and departed at once. Knowing Yin Feixue still lingered behind him, he felt little sorrow. He had watched Xi Tao and Kong Yun leave. But this time, it was Yin Feixue who stood watching his back.
Xue Cuo found that faintly amusing.
Yin Feixue remained where he was, waiting until that streak of light disappeared completely.
Then he turned to face the South Sea. An immeasurable melancholy rose in his chest. He could not tell whether that reluctance came from parting with a friend, or from parting with Xue Cuo himself.
Did Xue Cuo feel even a trace of reluctance? Perhaps not.
Yin Feixue let out a soft, self-mocking laugh and flew alone back toward Tiandu City, a place he had not returned to in a very long time.
