The beautiful woman was none other than Tian Ling'er. Seeing that Zhang Fan had been injured, she grew worried and quietly slipped over to check on him—only to find his mother already there. So she hid outside the door and only emerged once Su Ru had left.
At that moment, she looked at Zhang Fan, who seemed to have frozen on the spot, and couldn't help but chide him: "What are you just standing there for?"
Zhang Fan jolted awake, his face flushing red. He was about to search for some excuse to explain himself when he saw Tian Ling'er lower her head—it turned out that Dahuang had come bounding over and was nuzzling her leg affectionately.
Tian Ling'er bent down and patted Da Huang on the head. Da Huang stuck out his tongue and licked her hand, smooth and fair as jade.
"Chee-chee-chee-chee"—the monkey Hui's cries rang out, and the two people and the dog all looked over at once. They saw Hui dart behind Da Huang, seize hold of its great bushy tail, and yank backward with both hands, seemingly bent on dragging Da Huang away from Tian Ling'er's side. Feeling Tian Ling'er's startled gaze upon him, Hui glanced up—then suddenly bared his teeth and pulled a fierce, menacing face at her.
Tian Ling'er didn't take offense—she stuck her tongue right back out at the monkey. Ever since Hui had returned with Zhang Fan, he had gotten along well enough with the others. Weidu harbored a deep grudge against him; yet when Tian Ling'er saw that Da Huang—who had always been at odds with Hui—turned around without a trace of hostility and instead played and frolicked with him quite affectionately, she couldn't help but be taken aback.
"What's going on?" Tian Ling'er pointed at the monkey and dog as they roughhoused together and asked Zhang Fan.
Zhang Fan recounted the whole episode of how he had used a meat bone to cozy up to Ash. Tian Ling'er burst into involuntary laughter and scolded with a grin, "I never imagined that dead monkey would know such a trick!" Her bright eyes shifted, and she looked Zhang Fan up and down before asking, "My father hit you today — are you feeling alright anywhere?"
Zhang Fan shook his head. "It's nothing, Martial Sister."
Tian Ling'er said with considerable indignation, "Father is really something — why take it out on you just because he's in a foul mood!"
Zhang Fan quickly said, "No, it's not like that—it was my own foolishness that made Master angry…"
Tian Ling'er shot him a glare, and Zhang Fan immediately fell silent, mouth hanging half-open. Tian Ling'er gave a huff. "It's none of your business, really. Isn't it just that Father took one look at those two and saw how gifted they were — felt a little sore about it, so he went and..." She trailed off halfway, glanced at Zhang Fan, and thought to herself that finishing that sentence would be as good as calling her junior brother a dullard. She swallowed the rest and changed the subject. "So what exactly did my mother come over for?"
Zhang Fan replied honestly, "Shimu came to visit me as well. She even bestowed two 'Da Huang Dan' pills upon me — they work wonders. I took one and made a full recovery."
"Dahuang Pill?" Tian Ling'er seemed taken aback.
"Yes," Zhang Fan looked up at her. "What's wrong?"
Tian Ling'er cast a few extra glances at this junior brother. "But this is my father's treasure. I've heard that Mother gathered twenty-three kinds of spiritual herbs to refine it — its effects are wondrous. Not one of the senior brothers, myself included, has ever had the fortune to take it."
Zhang Fan's mouth fell open. Tian Ling'er's eyes darted about as she muttered to herself: "Could it be that Father actually holds you in special regard? Though no matter how you look at it, that doesn't seem right at all."
Zhang Fan said, "It must be Master's compassion — seeing that I was injured, he bestowed spiritual medicine upon me. His Elderly Self truly has a magnanimous heart!"
Tian Ling'er burst out laughing: "My father, he's magnanimous and broad-minded… hehe, forget it, I'm done arguing with you. How could there possibly be the sound of rain?"
Zhang Fan tilted his head to listen, and sure enough, caught the faint pitter-patter of rain drifting in from outside. Tian Ling'er walked to the window and pushed it open; a crisp mountain breeze rushed in at once, carrying fine icy droplets that brushed across their cheeks, cool and refreshing.
Zhang Fan walked over, stood beside her, and gazed outward.
The night was silent and dark, and rain fell softly from the sky. Everything lay in deep shadow; the only things visible were the blurred silhouettes of the slender bamboo growing at ease in the courtyard beyond the house. Fine threads of rain descended from the night sky, and to young Zhang Fan's eyes in the darkness, they seemed to carry a certain tenderness. He found himself suddenly feeling that this night was beautiful, this rain was lingering and gentle, and even the crisp sound of raindrops striking the bamboo leaves was melodious — resonating in the deepest recesses of his soul.
Simply because beside him stood such a beautiful woman — her face tilted upward, wearing a beauty that was seven parts youth, two parts joy, and one part quiet desolation — gazing ahead, utterly lost in a trance:
This rain!
Behind them, Dahuang and Hui had grown quiet at some point. Dahuang lay sprawled lazily on the bed, his dog eyes drooping half-open and half-closed, while Hui had also, for once, settled into an unusual calm — sitting beside Dahuang with both hands threading idly through the thick, soft fur.
The candlelight swayed, flaring and fading in the mountain wind, occasionally letting out a crackling sound.
"It's raining," Tian Ling'er murmured softly, her voice carrying a distant, mournful note.
Zhang Fan gave a quiet acknowledgment: "Yeah."
Tian Ling'er gazed at the night a moment longer, then slowly turned and made her way back to the table. "Fan," she said softly, "close the window. It's gotten a little cold."
Zhang Fan nodded, closed the window, and turned back to find Tian Ling'er sitting at the table in a somewhat distracted manner, drawing a small box from the folds of her robe and opening it in the lamplight to examine it closely.
The candlelight was reflected in her alluring, luminous eyes, like two pools of flame — gentle yet blazing.
"Hey… do you think this Cooling Pearl is beautiful?" Tian Ling'er's gaze lingered on the pearl as it cast a soft, gentle luster, and even her voice seemed to drift and float—just like Zhang Fan's heart, hollow and adrift, slowly sinking down.
He walked over, summoning every last ounce of courage and pouring all his strength into making himself appear this composed. Tian Ling'er looked up at him, and suddenly felt that the eyes of this unremarkable junior brother—in this very moment—were startlingly bright, even carrying a trace of fervor and pain.
She gently closed the box and asked softly, "Fan, what's wrong?"
Zhang Fan lowered his head, fell silent for a moment, then said quietly: "I'm fine, Senior Sister."
Tian Ling'er found it strange, but didn't dwell on the thought. She rose to her feet and said, "Alright, it's getting late. I should head back."
Zhang Fan rose to his feet in a daze. Tian Ling'er had taken only a few steps when she suddenly stopped and turned back with a smile—in that instant her beauty came rushing at him, striking him square in the heart. "Look at my memory," she said, "I nearly forgot what I even came here for tonight." With that, she drew a thin sheet of paper from inside her robe, its surface covered in dense, closely-packed characters, and handed it to Zhang Fan.
Zhang Fan took it and glanced it over. His expression shifted at once, and he cried out despite himself, "The Taiji Xuanqing Dao Technique! Senior Sister, this…"
Tian Ling'er shot him a sideways glance and huffed, "Why are you yelling so loudly?"
Zhang Fan hurriedly lowered his voice. "Sis, this is a third-level cultivation formula—you…"
Ling'er let out a soft snort. "Of course it's going to be passed on to you."
Was Zhang Fan completely taken aback?
Tian Linger said: "I know Father has always looked down on you, and losing his temper at you today was even more unreasonable—he couldn't teach his own disciple properly, yet turned around and blamed you instead. I couldn't just stand by and watch. Take this cultivation manual and practice it in secret. Once you've made something of yourself, come show Father what you're capable of, and never suffer this kind of humiliation again."
Zhang Fan furrowed his brow. "She's your senior martial sister — if Master and Master's Wife found out, wouldn't they scold you?"
Tian Ling'er said impatiently, "So you're scolding me too. At most they'll give me a few harsh words and lock me in confinement for a while—so what? There's no way I'm going to stand by and let you be pushed around!"
Zhang Fan's whole body shuddered, and a sudden warmth surged through his heart. He stared at Tian Ling'er's graceful silhouette and could not utter a single word. In that moment, his blood ran hot and fierce — had he been asked to die for this woman standing before him, he would not have hesitated for even an instant.
Tian Linger added, "Remember to put in more effort yourself—work toward holding your own against that insufferable Lin Jingyu as soon as you can. Though no matter how hard you train, you'll never match Senior Brother Qi Hao, so don't even bother thinking about that." With that, she gave a casual wave and left one last instruction: "Keep this to yourself." Then she walked out of the room and disappeared swiftly into the darkness.
"No matter how much you train, you'll never match Senior Brother Qi Hao!"
Those thirteen characters, each one striking heavy against Zhang Fan's heart. The color drained from his face; instinctively, his grip tightened on the white paper in his hand.
The mountain rain fell in hushed, ceaseless streams; the earth lay solemn and still. Who was there to witness, in the dark of night, that lone youth stepping into the downpour — head raised, eyes fixed upon the boundless heavens?
※※※
In the early morning, after the rain, a damp mountain wind carrying a chill swept across the summit of Dazhu Peak. Zhang Fan made his way to the familiar kitchen, lit a fire, and set the water to boil.
The firewood crackled and popped inside the stove, bright yellow flames dancing like wild spirits upon the wood, casting a crimson glow across his face. Zhang Fan held a thin twig as a poker, idly stirring the embers with no particular rhythm, his gaze fixed and distant.
"No matter how much you train, you'll never match Senior Brother Qi Hao!"
This single sentence—he had recited it silently in his heart ten thousand times over, and each time he did, it broke his heart anew. He knew how foolish this was; his senior sister had meant no harm. She had merely stated what everyone acknowledged to be the truth.
But he still couldn't stop himself from thinking — thinking desperately, as though a wildly burning flame raged within his heart, consuming his soul without end, until the fire scorched his very hands.
"Ouch!" Zhang Fan cried out in alarm and leaped backward. Lost in thought, he had failed to notice that the hearth fire had caught the thin kindling in his hand, burning its way up and scorching his fingers.
He cradled his hand and blew on the burned spot again and again, then ran to the water vat and plunged his hand into the cool water. A wave of icy coldness flooded up his arm. Zhang Fan let out a quiet, rueful laugh — what he needed most right now, above all else, was a fire poker.
"Mmph" — several muffled cries rang out at the doorway. Zhang Fan recognized the voice as Big Yellow's, yet couldn't fathom how the dog's usual "woof woof woof" had turned into "mmph mmph mmph." He stepped outside to look, and broke into an involuntary laugh. Big Yellow and Gray were tussling — Big Yellow had a short black rod clenched in his jaws, while Gray had seized the other end with both paws and was yanking with all his might. Neither would give an inch. Big Yellow barked and barked, but with the rod in his mouth the sound came out garbled, producing that peculiar "mmph mmph mmph."
Zhang Fan stepped forward, reached out to grab the short rod, and waved it to shoo away Hui and Da Huang. Unexpectedly, the two were quite reluctant to go, barking "woof woof woof" and squealing "squeak squeak squeak" without stop. Zhang Fan waved his hand and threatened, "Shoo, shoo, shoo—stop making a scene here, or you're getting no food at noon."
Dahuang and Hui exchanged a glance — one let out a bark, the other pulled a face — then Hui leaped onto Dahuang's back, and Dahuang swaggered off right before Zhang Fan with Hui riding on its back, radiating unmistakable contempt. Zhang Fan was left seething.
Cursing at the two beasts, Zhang Fan turned and went into the kitchen—only then did he startle: the short stick in his hand was none other than that strange black rod from his journey to the secluded valley half a year ago. It must have been Hui's doing; at some unknown hour, the mischievous creature had dug it out from a corner and brought it out to play with Dahuang.
Zhang Fan let out a sigh, then a thought suddenly struck him. He walked quickly to the stove and used the black short rod as a fire poker, jabbing at the flames a few times — it proved surprisingly handy. Moreover, he had no idea what material the rod was made of, for the fire could not burn it, nor did it conduct heat; even after being held to the flames for a good while, it remained cool to the touch. Zhang Fan nodded to himself repeatedly, thinking that this would serve him just fine.
Poor Black Heart Elder, that long-dead elder of the Demon Sect — had he ever learned that the Blood-Devouring Pearl he had spent his entire life forging, the supreme treasure of the Demon Sect that had once shaken the world, had been reduced to the role of a mere fire-stoking stick, he would surely have been so furious that he'd have clawed his way out of his grave, come back to life, and promptly died all over again.
That noon, the disciples of Big Bamboo Peak gathered in the dining hall. Tian Buyi was the last to arrive; he took his seat and swept his gaze across the assembled disciples. When his eyes landed on Zhang Fan, he paused. Zhang Fan lowered his head, and Tian Buyi promptly looked away.
"Yesterday's events — you all saw them?" Tian Buyi said, his tone flat.
The crowd fell silent. Only Song Daren smiled ingratiatingly and said, "Father displayed his divine might, personally acting to discipline those two—"
"Rubbish!" Tian Buyi's sudden roar shook the entire hall, and every soul fell silent as a cicada in winter. His voice thundered on in fury: "After what happened yesterday, you ought to have seen for yourselves the depth of cultivation the disciples from the other branches possess. Never mind Qi Hao — even the ones who've barely been in the sect three years somehow managed to outshine most of you, and then had the nerve to come swaggering up Big Bamboo Peak. Do you have any idea what that means?!"
A heavy silence fell over the crowd. Only Zhang Fan suddenly lifted his head.
Tian Buyi said coldly: "The Seven Veins Tournament will be upon us in the blink of an eye. You worthless lot—starting today, every last one of you will enter seclusion. If you can't come out looking like something decent, see if I don't have your hides!"
Everyone wore expressions of distress, yet not one dared utter a word. Tian Ling'er asked with great care, "I just…"
"Same goes for you!" Tian Buyi said flatly.
Tian Ling'er pursed the corner of her mouth, just about to speak, when her mother gave her a subtle tug. She turned to catch Su Ru's expression, and the words already at the tip of her tongue quietly withdrew.
Tian Buyi's voice echoed through the Shoujing Hall: "From this day forward, with the exception of Seventh, who will handle meals, none of you are permitted to leave for the duration of this year and a half. You will remain in seclusion and cultivate. Is that understood?"
……
And so, time flew by. Beneath the outward tranquility of Big Bamboo Peak, an unprecedented tension had settled over the mountain. Every disciple threw themselves wholeheartedly into the cultivation of the Dao — all except for one idle yellow dog, one mischievous grey monkey, and one thoroughly bored cook.