The Seven Peaks Martial Assembly was the grandest event held by the Qingyun Sect once every sixty years. With hundreds of additional disciples suddenly converging on Tongtian Peak, accommodations naturally grew scarce. Any hope the Big Bamboo Peak disciples had of returning to the carefree days of each having a room to themselves was nothing but a pipe dream. Aside from Tian Ling'er, who lodged with the female disciples of their peak, all seven male disciples of Big Bamboo Peak — starting with Song Daren — were crammed together into a single room.
On Tongfeng Peak, the quarters assigned to Qingyu disciples had always been four to a room. Now, with three extra bedrolls laid out on the floor, they had managed to squeeze everyone in somehow — though the crushing lack of space was unavoidable. At that moment, a voice rang out in loud complaint: "Honestly, for all the grand talk about how wonderful the Sect is, they're actually making seven of us cram into one room. This is absolutely outrageous!"
"Old Six, stop your complaining. If the fellow disciples of Changmen were to hear you, it would not bode well."
"Second Senior Brother, you're sleeping on the bed, naturally quite comfortable — yet you can't even spare a glance for me, your junior brother, lying on this cold ground. Why don't we swap sleeping spots?"
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.
"No way, you fell asleep just like that — and you're even snoring?"
*Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.*
"Hehe, Senior Brother, you have always been handsome and elegant, charming and dashing, gifted beyond compare, and overflowing with talent."
*Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.*
"What's going on — is it trendy to fall asleep on the spot now? Senior Brother, you've always been kind-hearted. How could you just stand there and watch your Junior Brother…"
*Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.*
Third Senior Brother
"Roar roar roar roar"
Everyone was startled. At that moment, the wall suddenly resounded with a heavy thudding, and from next door came a furious shout: "Do you people from Great Bamboo Peak really snore this loudly every night when you sleep?!"
The room fell suddenly silent. After a long while, someone—no one could quite tell who—quietly let out a few dry laughs. Then, shortly after, that same voice seemed to suddenly remember something: "Senior Brother, you—"
"...what are you talking about? I'm just sleeping right next to you — both on the floor. You want to swap spots? Fine by me!"
*Cough, cough.* Never mind that the floor mat was ice-cold — it was also a full stretch too short. Couldn't sleep properly at all. Getting up now, I have to say junior brother has it better; his build is just the right size for it.
"Sixth Senior Brother, how can you just lie there talking with your eyes closed? Can't you see I've got a big dog *and* a monkey here fighting me for the blanket? I'm the most squished one here, and you're still—"
"but I still"
"Shut up, Old Six!" came the simultaneous shouts of several voices inside the room.
After dark, many other young disciples of the six veins who had come to Tong Peak for the first time ventured out for a stroll, gazing at the scenery of Tong Peak with wonder and curiosity. But as the night grew deeper, everyone returned to their own rooms to sleep.
When darkness descended upon this towering peak, a cold moon rode the vault of heaven, spilling its pale radiance across the summit.
Zhang Fan was sleeping soundly when he vaguely felt something stir beside him. Half-awake, he cracked open his drowsy eyes, only to find that Monkey Ash and Big Yellow, who had been lying next to him, were nowhere to be seen. He propped himself up and looked around, just catching a flash of Big Yellow's yellow figure disappearing past the doorway, a dark shape riding on its back — most likely Monkey Ash.
Zhang Fan found it strange — the night was this deep, yet where could this monkey and dog still be going? He quietly climbed out of bed, threw on a robe in haste, and walked to the door. There, in the cold pale moonlight, he saw Dahuan running with the grey little one on its back, heading toward the sea of clouds.
Zhang Fan watched the direction they had run off in, made a quick mental calculation, and recalled that Song Daren had once told him that was where the Tongfeng kitchen was. He felt both annoyed and amused—Dà Huáng had been raised by Tian Buyi for who knew how many centuries, and by all accounts was a dog that had attained enlightenment, yet here it was being so shamelessly gluttonous. He was tempted to simply ignore the whole affair and go back to sleep, but on second thought, if someone happened to catch sight of the yellow dog and gray monkey from Da Zhufeng sneaking food, the embarrassment would be too great. He had better go and chase them back.
Having made up his mind, he looked up, only to find that Da Huang, with Hui on his back, had already dwindled to a mere blurred silhouette in the distance. He hurried after them.
He sprinted the entire way, moving with careful stealth so as not to rouse any of his fellow disciples in the neighboring rooms. By the time he reached the plaza near the Sea of Clouds, Dahu and Hui were already nowhere to be seen. Beneath the cold moon, wisps of cloud drifted languidly across the square—gossamer and smoke-like, a scene of breathtaking beauty.
He glanced at it a moment longer, then lost all interest in looking further. Turning his head to survey the surroundings, he was about to head toward the kitchen when, all of a sudden, his heart gave a heavy lurch.
Deep within the sea of clouds, on the side opposite the kitchen, a slender silhouette moved through the drifting mist, pressing forward — and by the direction the figure walked, it seemed they were heading toward the Rainbow Bridge.
Zhang Fan stood transfixed, his gaze locked on that distant figure. She was far away, yet her silhouette was carved so deeply into his heart that he recognized her in an instant — it was his senior martial sister, Tian Ling'er.
So profound!
Why had she gone out alone, and where was she heading by herself?
Zhang Fan froze where he stood, momentarily at a loss, his mind flooded with a thousand thoughts all at once, his heart thrown into turmoil—as though he had dimly guessed at something, yet he refused, even now, to acknowledge it.
He turned his head, his gaze fixed on the kitchen doorway where Da Huanghui had disappeared, then steeled himself and walked toward it, muttering under his breath, "Zhang Fan, mind your own business! Mind your own business!"
He walked seven steps like that — the moonlight fell like water upon this solitary young man, making his loneliness all the more acute. Then he stopped and looked up, seeing only a cold moon hanging at the edge of the sky. His lips seemed to move for a moment. Then he spun sharply on his heel, teeth clenched, and ran toward the direction where that figure had vanished.
The moonlight fell upon his running silhouette, carrying with it a desolate tenderness.
In but a moment, Tian Ling'er's figure had vanished into the sea of clouds. Yet Zhang Fan did not spare a glance elsewhere—he kept running, straight toward the rainbow bridge. Soon he was upon it. A mountain wind swept past, stirring faint ripples along the streams that flanked both sides of the bridge; the water mirrored the moon above, cold and clear and beautiful. Zhang Fan paid none of it any mind. He simply ran, with everything he had.
Run!
He ran the full length of the rainbow bridge without catching sight of a single soul. It was only when he reached its far end that a sudden pang of loss washed over him — for there, bathed in the cold, pale moonlight that lit the jade pool bright as day, stood a beautiful figure, poised gracefully at the water's edge, gazing out at the shimmering, rippling surface in a wordless daze.
Zhang Fan suddenly felt afraid — a kind of fear he could not even put into words. He only knew that he could not let his senior sister discover him. He glanced around and spotted a grove of trees to the right side of the pool, near the Rainbow Bridge. He quietly slipped over and hid among them, watching Tian Ling'er from the shadows.
That single gaze felt as though it would last for eternity!
Beneath the moonlight, beside the jade-green waters, a young woman stood bearing traces of sorrow and longing, her brows gently lowered, her eyes holding a faint, soft luminance as though she were lost in some distant reverie—and in that moment, she was breathtakingly beautiful. A mountain breeze stirred lazily, skimming across the water's surface, and as it swept past her side, even the wind seemed to hold its breath and still its voice, softly lifting the hem of her garment, framing skin as pale and pure as snow.
Deep within Zhang Fan's heart, an indescribable tenderness suddenly welled up — as though that woman were the one person he had longed to protect for all his life. Even were he to endure a hundred setbacks and a thousand tribulations for her sake, he would not hesitate for a single moment, nor would he ever regret it.
How I wish this moment could last forever!
"Junior Sister Ling'er." Suddenly, a voice rang out from the rainbow bridge. Tian Ling'er spun around at once, her eyes filling with joy in an instant, a smile of true warmth spreading across her lips.
"Senior Brother Qi, you're here."
In that moment, Zhang Fan's heart seemed to shatter — yet he felt no pain at all. His entire chest was hollow and vast, echoing with nothing but those words: "Senior Brother Qi, Senior Brother Qi, Senior Brother Qi."
He turned his head with great effort, only to see a figure striding swiftly down the Rainbow Bridge — sword-like brows, bright starlit eyes, strikingly handsome, with a bearing that set him apart from all others. Who else could it be but Qi Hao?
Qi Hao walked quickly to Tian Ling'er's side and said in a gentle voice, "My apologies — those martial brothers of mine are young and love to make a ruckus, so it was very late before they finally settled down to sleep. That's why I'm so late. You've been waiting a long time, haven't you."
Tian Ling'er had harbored a trace of annoyance in her heart, yet for reasons she could not quite explain, the moment she caught sight of Qi Hao's figure, it vanished without a trace. She shook her head and smiled. "It's fine—I haven't been here long either." She paused, casting a glance toward the pool nearby. Why had he asked to meet here of all places? When Lord Bailing suddenly flew into a rage... even now I'm still a little frightened."
Qi Hao smiled and said, "There's nothing to worry about. I heard from Master that the Spirit Lord is perfectly fine — it was merely playing a joke on us young disciples. Besides, after all this fuss, won't tonight be all the quieter for it?"
Tian Ling'er's face flushed red. She lowered her head. "The two of us meeting like this in secret… I don't know if it's really all right."
Qi Hao gazed at her gentle, beautiful face and said softly, "Junior Sister Ling'er, ever since we first met on Da Zhu Peak two years ago, I have not been able to stop thinking of you. The longing is unbearable—I lie awake night after night, my mind filled with nothing but your image."
Tian Ling'er instinctively bit her lip, her cheeks flushing a shade deeper, yet without the slightest trace of annoyance — if anything, a thread of sweetness stirred quietly in her heart.
Qi Hao spoke again: "Junior Sister Ling'er, I—"
Tian Ling'er suddenly raised her head. "Senior Brother Qi, just call me Ling'er." Then, just as abruptly, she lowered her gaze again and murmured, "That's what Father and Mother always called me."
Qi Hao was overjoyed, as though he still couldn't believe his own ears. He hesitated for a moment before pressing further: "Is it really true?"
Tian Ling'er glanced at him, then slowly reached into her robe and drew out a brocade box. Her gaze dropped to the floor, as though she had to summon every last ounce of courage before she murmured softly, "This 'Cooling Pearl'—I have kept it on my person for the past two years."
Having said this, she did not dare look at Qi Hao again. Yet to her surprise, a long while passed without a sound from him. Puzzled, Tian Ling'er stole a glance at him — only to find his eyes brimming with delight, his face wreathed in smiles, radiating a happiness too deep for words.
The two of them held each other's gaze for a long moment, then suddenly opened their arms wide and pulled each other into an embrace.
The cold moonlight spilled over them and across that stretch of forest, yet could not find its way into the darkened corners.
Neither of them knew how much time had passed as the couple murmured tender words to each other, until Qi Hao glanced up at the sky and saw that the moon had already moved past the east. Only then did he say: "Ling'er, the night grows late. We should head back — if someone were to notice us, it would only cause trouble."
Tian Ling'er thought for a moment, then gave a small nod. The two exchanged a glance, and suddenly both smiled — everything left unspoken yet perfectly understood. Qi Hao took Tian Ling'er's hand and walked slowly toward the Rainbow Bridge. In the moonlight they looked like a pair of devoted mandarin ducks, pressed close together, and after a while they disappeared at last upon the bridge.
The night grew a few shades more forlorn.
From the shadows of the forest, Zhang Fan slowly emerged, walking in a daze to the edge of the jade pool, gazing at the shimmering surface of the water, gazing at the cold moon reflected within — drifting lightly with the ripples, gently swaying.
He suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to cry.
Yet in the end, the tears never came. That nameless anguish raged through his heart like a frenzied beast, crashing against every wall within him, until there was not a single corner left unscathed.
But he gritted his teeth and said not a word.
It was as though he had returned to how things were five years ago — back then, he had lost everything, and yet Lin Jingyu remained by his side; the world, it seemed, had changed beyond all recognition.
Yet tonight, at this moment, there was only him—alone, facing it by himself.
A low, muffled sound — like the snort of some wild beast — suddenly rose up behind him. Zhang Fan snapped out of his daze and spun around, and the sight that greeted him instantly sent a chill of cold sweat down his spine.
There, the mountain-guardian spirit beast of Qingyun Sect — that colossal creature reverently addressed by all as "Spirit Venerable," the Water Qilin — had appeared without a sound directly behind Zhang Fan, drawing so close it nearly touched him. Its great head was lowered, and a pair of enormous eyes seemed to press right against his body. How a creature of such immense bulk had managed this, no one could say; perhaps Zhang Fan's heart was so numb with grief that he had simply never noticed it at all.
But at this moment, Zhang Fan's heart nearly leapt out of his chest. The Water Qilin's mountainous bulk loomed directly before him, its gaping maw lined with long, razor-sharp fangs that gleamed brilliantly in the moonlight. Overwhelmed with terror, he stumbled back several steps, caught his foot on a large rock, and crashed to the ground.
When he came out, his clothes were already in disarray—he had merely thrown a robe haphazardly over himself. Now his body swayed, and with a dull thud, something dropped to the ground.
The sound spread swiftly through this tranquil place, echoing above the surface of the water.
Zhang Fan and the Water Qilin lowered their heads at the same moment, only to see that on the ground by the water's edge, lying quietly between them, was a pitch-black object that could only be called a "fire stick."
In the Water Qilin's enormous eyes was reflected Zhang Fan's pallid face and the wretched fire stick lying on the ground. Zhang Fan felt his throat go parched as cold sweat streamed down his body, his mind screaming desperately: *Run!! Run!!*"
Yet standing before the Water Qilin, no matter how frantically his mind raced, his legs seemed no longer his own—they refused to move an inch. The Water Qilin, however, was behaving oddly at that moment. It glanced at Zhang Fan twice, then its attention seemed to be entirely drawn to that fire-poker. The massive beast stared fixedly at the blackened fire-poker, peering at it from above, then from below, its great head swiveling back and forth—yet it could make nothing of it. After a moment, as if hesitating, it extended a forepaw and gingerly nudged the fire-poker.
Zhang Fan stood to the side, jaw agape. Though fear still gripped his heart, curiosity welled up in equal measure. He found himself wondering whether this "Spirit Venerable," having lived for thousands of years, had simply gone senile in old age—or could it be that, like the big yellow dog up on Big Bamboo Peak, the Venerable had grown old without growing up, a childlike heart that never faded, and was genuinely this captivated by a mere fire poker?
The Water Qilin's massive claw lightly tapped the fire-stoking staff, then immediately drew back. From its manner, it seemed to regard the staff with considerable wariness. The staff merely shifted, rolled a few times, and lay there calmly as before, utterly motionless.
The Water Qilin's eyes were filled with confusion, yet it still refused to give up. Its massive head swayed, and it suddenly turned its gaze upon Zhang Fan. A low but powerful roar rumbled forth from its gaping maw. Zhang Fan's heart lurched violently, and in that instant every muscle in his body went taut—even his breathing stopped.
Unexpectedly, the Water Qilin merely glanced at him before turning its gaze back to the fire poker. This time, it actually lowered its head, bringing its nose right up to the stick and sniffing it with meticulous care. Zhang Fan's heart was still hammering in his chest, yet watching the great beast's peculiar behavior, he found himself instinctively thinking that it bore a striking resemblance to Da Huang — and had he not been so tense in that moment, he might have nearly laughed.
The Water Qilin sniffed around for a while, clearly finding nothing. It raised its head and glanced about, its massive skull swinging in every direction — seemingly just as baffled. But a thousand-year spiritual beast was a thousand-year spiritual beast after all. After a brief pause for thought, it decided to let the matter go. With a loud "pfft," the Water Qilin blew a dismissive snort through its nostrils, then fixed its enormous eyes on Zhang Fan in a withering glare that nearly scared him half to death, before turning away with a shake of its head and a swish of its tail, ambling back down into the pool. Moments later, water sprayed in all directions as its immense body sank beneath the surface.
Only then did Zhang Fan's nerves begin to settle. He slowly picked himself up off the ground, and it was only at that moment that he realized the back of his robes was completely soaked through—to say nothing of the cold sweat pouring from his brow like rain. He walked over to the fire poker and picked it up, turning it over and examining it from top to bottom, yet no matter how he looked, he could not find anything out of the ordinary. He couldn't help but cry out in exasperation: "What in the blazes is going on!"
Before the words had even faded, a sudden splash rang out from the jade-green pool nearby. A great surge of water erupted upward, and amid the churning white foam, the massive tail of the Water Qilin could be dimly seen breaking through the surface.
Zhang Fan was shocked. He immediately stuffed the fire stick into his chest and bolted, running as fast as his legs could carry him. All along the way he could hear the constant splashing from the pool behind him; he did not dare look back even once, only ran with all his might, putting as much distance between himself and that place as possible. In no time at all he reached the Rainbow Bridge and sprinted straight up its arch, until he could no longer hear any sound from behind him, until he reached the very top of the Rainbow Bridge—only then did he stop, chest heaving, gasping for breath.
Phew!"
Zhang Fan's breathing slowly settled into calm. Yet he suddenly felt a deep weariness—a tiredness that welled up from somewhere within the depths of his heart. He lowered his head, and there in the moonlight he saw a solitary shadow that had followed him all along.
He suddenly raised his head and looked up. Before him stretched the cold, boundless sky, a lone pale moon hanging chill and high at its edge. He stared at it, transfixed, and for a long moment was utterly lost.
※※※
In the early morning, everyone awoke.
Du Bi: "Honestly, after a whole night's sleep my back is practically broken—how am I supposed to compete today?"
The Fifth, Lü Daxin, furrowed his brow. "Sixth, stop making such a fuss. I slept through the same night and felt nothing wrong with my back."
Song Daren chimed in from the side: "Exactly. Sixth Brother, you've been grumbling the whole night already—isn't that enough? Can't you see that Fifth Brother and our junior brother haven't said a thing?"
Du Bi: "Fifth Senior Brother has thick skin and dense flesh—he can't feel a thing. Don't believe me? Go ask Junior Brother yourself, just look at him— hey, Junior Brother, why are your eyes so bloodshot? Did you really not sleep well last night?"
Zhang Fan finished tidying his bedding and now sat in a chair, staring blankly out the window, utterly unresponsive. Dahuang lay sprawled at his feet while Monkey Ash rummaged through Dahuang's fur, seemingly searching for lice.
Du Bishu walked over and gave him a firm clap on the shoulder. Zhang Fan startled and jumped to his feet, giving Dahuang and Hui a fright as well. He spun around, eyes scanning the room. "What's going on?"
Du Bi: "Fan, why do you look so absent-minded? Didn't you sleep well last night?"
Zhang Fan paused for a moment, shook his head, and said, "Yes."
Du Bi: "Then why are your eyes so bloodshot, all red?"
Zhang Fan was just about to speak when He Dazhi, walking over from the side, cut in: "Sixth, mind your own business. It doesn't matter how worn-out Junior Brother looks—he has a bye this round anyway. You, on the other hand, had better go wash up. If you end up missing the match later because of it, don't go blaming anyone else."
Du Bishu suddenly came to his senses. No longer sparing a thought for whether Zhang Fan had slept well, he charged forward, utterly ignoring Lü Daxin, Zheng Dali, and the others who were in the middle of washing their faces. He snatched the washbasin right out of someone's hands and began splashing water furiously all over his own face, muttering all the while: "Junior Brother really does have all the luck — just look at that half-dead, sleeping-in expression of his, honestly — Fifth Senior Brother, quick, give the basin back to me, I'm going to be late!"
"I haven't even washed myself yet!"
Zhang Fan watched as several of his senior brothers bickered endlessly on the other side of the room over a washbasin. Growing mildly irritated, he stood and walked out. He had barely reached the doorway when Song Daren suddenly called after him: "Junior Brother, have you washed up yet?"
Zhang Fan turned his head. "Senior Brother."
Song Daren gave a nod. "Good. It's fine if you want to go out for a walk first, but make sure you come to the dining hall for breakfast after a while. Understood?"
Zhang Fan murmured his assent and headed out. Gray the monkey let out two chittering squeaks, scurried over, and leapt onto his shoulder. Big Yellow, seeing Gray already on the move, lazily hauled himself to his feet, gave his tail a leisurely wag, and padded out after them. Along the corridor, Zhang Fan glimpsed the bustling figures of fellow disciples from every branch of the Qingyun Sect, all just rousing themselves for the day. He strolled on without any particular destination, and before he knew it found himself standing in Cloud Sea Plaza.
The hour was still early, and only a scattering of Qingyun disciples walked upon the sea of clouds. A cool mountain breeze drifted over, brushing past Zhang Fan's face with a faint touch of cold.
As if it were only last night!
A pang of pain shot through Zhang Fan's heart. He was sixteen this year — an age when love first awakens — and he had lived on Big Bamboo Peak for five years, spending every waking moment at the side of Tian Ling'er. In the quiet depths of his heart, deep roots of affection had long since taken hold for this beautiful, spirited senior martial sister of his. Yet last night, without any warning, he had witnessed with his own eyes Tian Ling'er meeting Qi Hao in secret. It struck him like a bolt of lightning out of a clear sky, and in an instant his heart was thrown into utter turmoil.
His mind was a jumbled mess at that moment, flashes of last night's scenes — those heart-wrenching images that had all but killed him — darting in and out without cease. His whole being drifted like a lost soul with no master, walking on with no destination in mind.
A cry of amazement suddenly rang out beside him, startling Zhang Fan out of his reverie. He turned to look, and found a young Qingyun disciple standing nearby — clean-featured, draped in a long robe, around twenty years of age, a gold-painted fan in hand bearing painted landscapes of mountains and rivers. The disciple had drawn close, yet his bright, wide eyes never once glanced at Zhang Fan; they were fixed intently, unblinking, on the little monkey Hui perched upon Zhang Fan's shoulder.