"Good!"
The thunderous applause rolled on, and below the stage was an entirely different world. Everyone was shouting at the top of their lungs, utterly entranced by those two beautiful figures on stage.
The ten-thousand-zhang radiance of the amber crimson silk and the endless blue brilliance of the Qiya Divine Sword bathed the surroundings in a splendor that seemed like a paradise brought down to earth—breathtakingly beautiful. Yet more beautiful still were the two young women darting and weaving through the air in combat. The match had stretched from morning until now, a full shichen having passed, yet neither side had gained the upper hand. Most astonishing of all was Tian Linger of Dazhu Peak: pressed beneath the might of the Qiya Divine Sword, she had somehow managed to hold both offense and defense, enduring this long without the faintest sign of defeat—a sight that left the onlookers deeply amazed.
Below the stage, it went without saying that the senior elders of both lineages—Tian Buyi, Su Ru, Master Shuiyue, and the rest—were all in attendance; even the Sect Master, True Person Daoxuan, sat in a chair watching the brilliant contest, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he nodded again and again, his heart filled with deep satisfaction.
Tian Buyi shared a deep parental bond with Su Ru and was just as anxious, yet watching Tian Ling'er's Dao techniques flow with graceful agility—not yielding an inch—eased his heart somewhat. He glanced at his wife beside him, saw the tension etched across her face, and said softly, "Relax. Ling'er will be fine."
Su Ru turned to glance at her husband, smiled faintly, then looked back toward the stage. Tian Buyi shook his head slightly, when suddenly he sensed a commotion stirring among the disciples gathered behind him—and even among the disciples of the other branches farther away.
He turned to look, and for a brief moment—deep as his cultivation ran—even he was left dumbstruck.
In a narrow corridor that the crowd parted automatically to create, Zhang Fan walked slowly forward. His clothes were burned to rags, wisps of smoke still rising from some patches; his face, his hands, every inch of his body was covered in great blackened scorch marks, and a sharp, acrid smell struck those nearest him full in the face. Anyone watching could see how much each step cost him—as though the mere act of moving required every last ounce of strength he possessed—yet for some reason no one could name, he kept going, kept walking, one step after the next.
Tian Buyi watched in silence as his most cherished disciple slowly walked toward him. Without a word, his short, stout frame rose from the chair. Su Ru sensed something, and cast a puzzled glance at her husband — then realized something was wrong. Following his gaze, her face drained of color at once, and she too rose to her feet.
By now, even more people had turned to look in their direction.
Zhang Fan stepped forward and stood before Tian Buyi. Tian Buyi looked at this disciple he had always neglected the most, looked at his inexplicable stubbornness, and felt an uncontrollable surge of rage rise within his chest. The anger was so fierce that, despite his effort to hold it down, everyone present could still hear the fury in his voice: "Seventh, which bastard dared to wound you like this — was winning not enough for him?"
Su Ru gave a start, suddenly aware that her husband had been roused to genuine anger on behalf of this disciple he had always held in contempt. A flicker of worry crossed her heart, and she reached out to pull at Tian Buyi's sleeve — but her eyes had already drifted back to Zhang Fan.
On both sides, the disciples of Great Bamboo Peak stood rooted to the spot, too stunned to move, forgetting even to step forward and steady their junior brother.
On the stage, Lu Xueqi and Tian Ling'er were locked in fierce combat, their Artifacts darting back and forth through the air, the celestial aura solemn and imposing.
Zhang Fan took a long, deep look at the stage, then turned his gaze to his master standing before him. On that plump face he saw fury — and beneath it, perhaps, the faintest trace of something that might have been concern.
He shook his head in exhaustion, his voice barely above a whisper: "No, Master. I won."
...done. He felt only a sudden wave of dizziness surge through his mind. In an instant, the world went dark, and with a dull thud, he crumpled to the ground and lost consciousness.
Zhang Fan collapsed to the ground, utterly unconscious. Yet the words he had spoken before losing his senses left everyone on Big Bamboo Peak — from Tian Buyi himself down to the youngest disciples — completely stunned. A moment later, Tian Buyi and the others came to their senses and moved to help Zhang Fan up.
Tian Buyi examined him carefully, finding that his disciple's body was covered with wounds as though he had been scorched by a great fire, yet his internal organs showed no serious injury; the loss of consciousness was most likely due to sheer exhaustion. He had no idea what had transpired during the match just moments ago. He considered briefly, and from the corner of his eye noticed more and more onlookers turning to stare. Unwilling to stand there as a spectacle for the crowd, he gathered Zhang Fan into his arms and murmured to Su Ru: "I'll take Seventh back. You stay here and watch over Ling'er."
Su Ru's brow furrowed deeply, yet she gave a nod all the same. She cast a glance at Zhang Fan, whose eyes remained tightly shut, and the anxiety written across her face could no longer be concealed. The disciples of Big Bamboo Peak crowded around as well, and Du Bi said, "Shifu, let me come with you."
Tian Buyi shook his head. "No need."
At that moment, even True Person Daoxuan's attention was drawn over. "Junior Brother, is this a disciple of yours? What happened?"
Tian Buyi said lightly, "He lacks proficiency in his training and has suffered some minor injuries. I'll take him to get them treated — please excuse us."
True Person Daoxuan gave a slight nod, turned away, and directed his gaze back toward the brilliant magical duel unfolding on the stage. As Tian Buyi carried Zhang Fan out of the crowd, the commotion quickly died down. The onlookers turned their excitement back to the two beautiful women competing on the stage — only a handful of young disciples standing at the outer fringe of the crowd happened to notice, almost by chance, that most disciples of the Fenghui Peak lineage had gone livid, gathering in twos and threes as they quietly drifted away into the distance.
If Zhang Fan were here, he would certainly recognize that place as where Zeng Shushu had competed.
※※※
Beneath the Nine Nethers, in the Hall of Yanluo, raging fires blazed on every side, scorching the weeping and shrieking masses. The reek of blood and charred flesh hung so thick it turned the stomach. Zhang Fan felt the world spin around him — yet only for an instant. Then, all at once, he was back in a time many years past: a tranquil mountain village, a gentle breeze drifting through, mild and pleasant on the air.
Yet a thunderclap split the heavens, its echo rolling to the far horizon. Dark clouds massed like mountains, surging and crashing like the furious waves of a wrathful sea — and in the blink of an eye, the kind and gentle villagers had become towering mounds of corpses, the once-peaceful village transformed into a living hell.
"No!"
He cried out with everything he had, every muscle in his body pulled taut — then a searing pain lanced through his chest. He sucked in a sharp breath, his whole body trembling, and jolted awake.
"He's awake—Zhang Fan's awake." That voice, so familiar it felt carved into the very depths of her heart, rang out at once, tinged with both worry and relief. Zhang Fan opened his eyes, and there was Tian Ling'er.
It was as if time had turned back. She was clad in red from head to toe, the amber-crimson silk still wound about her waist, cascading gracefully down from her fair neck, framing her somewhat pallid face—and those bright eyes, those pure, guileless pupils, in which Zhang Fan could even see his own reflection.
*Senior Sister!* — a cry from the depths of his heart.
Zhang Fan gazed at her without so much as blinking. If only this moment could last forever!
In the room, everyone from Big Bamboo Peak crowded around. Tian Buyi stepped forward and took his pulse, then nodded. "Good. He'll be fine."
Only then did everyone breathe a sigh of relief, each breaking into a reassured smile.
Zhang Fan glanced around and saw that all the members of Big Bamboo Peak were present. He was lying on the bed in the room, while his senior brothers stood on the floor, with Tian Buyi and Su Ru seated in chairs by the bedside.
"…what happened?"
Tian Ling'er smiled and said, "You couldn't have forgotten so soon, could you? You had that match with Peng Chang from Wind Return Peak, and when you came back you passed out cold — gave everyone quite a scare. Good thing nothing was seriously wrong."
Zhang Fan shifted his body — sure enough, aside from a bone-deep fatigue, only his chest still ached; everywhere else had already recovered. He couldn't help but blurt out in astonishment: "How can this be? I was clearly all over—"
Tian Buyi cut in: "Those burn marks are nothing more than surface wounds—a dab of our Qingyun Sect's secret-formula spiritual medicine and they'll be fine. Right now the only true injury on you is that heavy blow to the chest, but your bones and Meridians have shifted not a fraction. Rest for a few days and you'll be fully recovered."
Su Ru, sitting to one side, smiled. "Fan, aren't you going to thank your Master? If he hadn't stepped in personally to save you this time, those external injuries alone would have kept you bedridden for at least half a year."
Zhang Fan was startled, astonishment welling up inside him, yet gratitude still overflowed in his expression. He said in a low voice: "This disciple is incompetent and has troubled Master once again."
Tian Buyi let out a cold snort, his expression darkening. "Incompetent? You're the most capable one on Big Bamboo Peak right now!"
Zhang Fan was startled once again. Not knowing what Tian Buyi had meant by those words, he could only say, "Master, Senior Sister, Senior Brother, and all the other senior brothers — they all surpass me by far. I would not dare—" His voice faltered as he spoke. He looked at the senior brothers and Tian Ling'er standing before him, all of whose expressions had grown somewhat strange. In particular, the eldest senior brother who stood at the head of the group looked especially pale today, no longer carrying his usual vitality, and appeared to be on the verge of collapse.
Su Ru let out a sigh. "Go fetch a chair for your senior martial brother to sit on."
Lü Daxin quickly acknowledged and fetched a chair from nearby, setting it beside Song Daren. Song Daren had meant to refuse, but his body swayed several times, and in the end he sank into it, breathing in ragged gulps.
Zhang Fan stood there in a daze. "Senior Brother, what's wrong with you?"
Song Daren gave a bitter smile but said nothing. It was He Dazhi, the fourth senior brother standing beside him, who spoke up: "Junior Brother, the Seven-Vein Martial Meet has reached the fourth round now, and you're the only one left from our Big Bamboo Peak." At that, he couldn't help but cast a glance at the surroundings.
Zhang Fan froze for a moment, then seemed to recall something. He turned his head toward Tian Ling'er, who was sitting at the head of the bed, and said, "Senior Sister, then you too—"
Tian Ling'er's expression darkened, and she murmured, "I lost too."
Zhang Fan watched the disappointment wash across her face and felt a sharp pang in his heart—but this was no time to let his thoughts wander.
Tian Buyi looked Zhang Fan up and down, his face darkening.
Zhang Fan's heart skipped a beat. Hearing the veiled anger lurking beneath Tian Buyi's words, then seeing the terrible look on his Master's face, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of fear toward his Master, and whatever
Before he could finish, Tian Buyi swept his gaze over everyone present one by one, only to find that even the senior brothers he knew well—usually warm and amiable—had now fallen silent, their eyes fixed on him full of doubt.
Small wonder, really. A junior fellow disciple who had always been utterly hopeless had suddenly distinguished himself in a single stroke, and no one could be expected to come to terms with that so quickly.
Under Tian Buyi's piercing, overbearing gaze, sweat beaded and streamed down Zhang Fan's forehead. For one fleeting moment, he nearly blurted out the truth—that he had been secretly practicing a Cultivation technique from a rival sect—yet when the words rose to his lips, he swallowed them back down after all.
He was no longer the ignorant young man who had known nothing of the world five years ago. Through the everyday conversations of his fellow disciples, he had long since learned of the formidable renown of Yinsi Temple, and come to know the true identity of that gaunt old monk named Puzhi on that fateful night. Over the years, he had cultivated the *Daofan Prajna* technique in solitude, yet deep in his heart, his gratitude toward Puzhi had never diminished in the slightest.
"This disciple is dull-witted. Over the years, my cultivation has made little progress," Zhang Fan lowered his head, not daring to meet Tian Buyi's gaze, and spoke slowly, choosing each word with care: "A few days ago, this disciple suddenly discovered that I could move certain things — but I could not believe it myself, so… so I did not dare report it to Master and Master's wife. I never expected—"
Tian Buyi let out a cold laugh, thinking that this time he had truly made a stunning debut and stolen the spotlight!
Zhang Fan hurriedly said, "Yes, Master."
Tian Buyi was hardly one to be so easily deceived. His voice turned cold at once: "You can move objects, yet that requires cultivation at no less than the Fourth Level of the Jade Clarity Realm. I asked Daren — he only passed you the techniques of the Second Level. So perhaps you could explain to this ignorant master of yours exactly how you bypassed the Third Level and reached the Fourth?" By the time he finished, his voice had gone utterly glacial, carrying a faint killing intent that drained the color from every face in the room.
Zhang Fan said no more. A heavy silence settled over the room.
After a long while — just as Tian Buyi's expression grew darker and darker, and the worry among the onlookers deepened with every passing moment — Zhang Fan silently pulled himself upright. It was plain to see that he was still utterly exhausted, yet he forced himself out of bed all the same, and there, before the eyes of everyone present, beneath the clear, luminous gaze of Tian Ling'er, he knelt down before Tian Buyi.
Tian Buyi remained utterly unmoved, and said coldly: "So what?"
Zhang Fan bowed his head low, his eyes fixed solely on the patch of earth just beneath him, not sparing so much as a single glance to either side. "Master," he said in a hushed voice, "please punish me."
Everyone was visibly shaken, and Tian Buyi's face darkened with fury. Su Ru furrowed her brow. "Zhang Fan, if you have any reservations, just speak them directly to your master — why go to such lengths?"
Zhang Fan knelt on the ground, motionless.
Tian Buyi let out two cold laughs, his rage twisting into a bitter chuckle. "Good — quite the stubborn bone. It seems I've taken on quite the disciple myself!"
Zhang Fan's prostrate body gave a shudder. What thoughts crossed his mind, what expression he wore — none could say. Within that room, it seemed as though another person were present, for somewhere a breath suddenly turned quick and ragged. His voice dropped to a low murmur: "…Everything is this disciple's fault. Please, Master, punish me."
Tian Buyi shot abruptly to his feet—*crack*—the chair beneath him splintered into pieces and collapsed to the floor. Everyone's faces changed. They watched as he turned on Zhang Fan with fury: "It is all your fault! Heh—do you know that stealing your master's arts behind his back is the gravest taboo in our Qingyun Sect? The light sentence is decades of wall-facing contemplation; the severe sentence is having your cultivation stripped and being expelled from Qingyun altogether. Do you know that?"
Zhang Fan snapped his head up and looked at Tian Buyi. His master's face was filled with fury, yet there was not the slightest trace of exaggeration in it, and his heart sank unbidden.
"How could this be?" he thought painfully to himself. When Tian Ling'er had secretly passed the technique on to him all those years ago, it had not been like this at all.
Yet, in the end, he still did not turn back for one last look.
The room was deathly silent, not a single person opening their mouth to speak.
Nothing remained but anxious, ragged gasps — some high, some low.
A person's heart, in this expanse of silence, grew cold so quietly, so frigidly — as if mad yet watching oneself with such clear-eyed lucidity. Zhang Fan closed his eyes and lowered his head once more, like a desperate man slowly taking his final step:
"This disciple is unworthy — please, Master, mete out your punishment!"
A tremendous force surged forth like mountains crumbling and seas overturning. Zhang Fan's entire body was sent flying backward, slamming heavily into the wall. Amid a billowing cloud of dust, he crumpled to the ground and let out a cry, spitting up a mouthful of blood.
Everyone's expressions changed. With Song Daren at the lead, straining to hold himself up as he dropped to his knees, the other disciples all knelt before Tian Buyi. "Master, please spare our junior brother!"
Song Daren went on to say: "Master, I have failed in my guidance—it is my fault for teaching so poorly that my junior brother went astray. All the blame falls on me; please, spare him."
Amid the desperate pleas of the crowd, Tian Ling'er stood rooted to the spot, staring dazedly at Zhang Fan as he lay crumpled in the corner against the wall, writhing in agony with blood soaking his robes — her face ashen and utterly drained of color.
Tian Buyi stared at the disciples kneeling at his feet, then fixed his gaze on Zhang Fan, who still stood in the corner. The fury on his face refused to fade. He let out an angry snort, flicked his sleeves, and strode out. Su Ru glanced around at everyone, shook her head with a quiet sigh, and said to Song Daren and the others, "All of you, get up." Then she looked toward Zhang Fan in the distance and said to Song Daren, who was being helped to his feet by He Dazhi, "Go look after Fan. I need to go check on your Master."
Song Daren and the others hurriedly called out, "Mother."
Su Ru let out another soft sigh and walked away.
Inside the room, everyone exchanged glances in silence. After a long moment, Tian Ling'er slowly walked over, turning her back to the others, and lifted Zhang Fan into her arms. Blood frothed at the corners of his mouth, yet lying in the crook of her arm, he actually managed a smile.
In that moment, a single cool teardrop fell silently into the pool of blood on his face.
※※※
By now the night had grown deep. Above the sea of clouds, drifting mist still wandered as it always had, beautiful as an immortal realm.
Tian Buyi stood in the center of the plaza, head raised, gazing upward.
Only the night sky stretched before the eye—countless stars blazing in their multitudes, the moon cold as frost.
Behind him, familiar footsteps approached. Su Ru walked to his side, looked up at the starry sky, and said with a faint smile, "Feeling any better?"
Tian Buyi let out a snort but said nothing.
Su Ru's faint smile may have fooled Da Ren and Ling'er, but it couldn't fool me. That flick of your sleeve — I suspect it was quite deliberate, meant to shake Fan's chest Meridians so that the stagnant blood pooled there would be forced out. Am I right?"
Tian Buyi gazed at the night sky, not uttering a word.
Su Ru shook her head. Several hundred years old, and still so utterly obsessed with saving face!
Tian Buyi turned his head and shot his wife a glare. "It's not like you didn't see it — that little wretch, acting like — *'Master, please punish me!'*" He mimicked Zhang Fan's tone with exaggerated sulkiness, then erupted: "He was clearly the one in the wrong, yet he had the gall to look utterly aggrieved — as if I, his own master, had been the one bullying him, forcing his hand? How utterly absurd!"
Su Ru glanced back toward the lodgings. "I don't believe you couldn't tell?"
Tian Buyi said, "What?"
Su Ru said lightly, "Ling'er has been acting rather strange, don't you think?"
Tian Buyi let out a derisive snort.
Su Ru smiled. "You've noticed it too, I take it. Fan has spent these five years confined to Great Bamboo Peak without ever setting foot outside, so the technique could only have been passed to him privately by one of our own disciples. Ling'er has always been close to Fan, and spoiled as she is by our indulgence, secretly passing him the third-tier cultivation formula is exactly the sort of thing she would dare to do. What's more, if she had nothing to hide — given how she always rushes to defend Fan in any matter — why did she not say a single word this time? If not her, who else could it be?"
Tian Buyi seemed to have anticipated his wife's words long before she spoke them. No surprise showed on his face, yet anger still smoldered there, and he said with barely restrained resentment: "Even if the fault was Ling'er's, just look at that Zhang Fan — in front of so many disciples, he stubbornly talked back to me and refused to yield no matter what. Truly unforgivable!"
Su Ru laughed in spite of herself and gave her husband a gentle pat on the shoulder, chiding, "Aren't you just as pigheaded about admitting your own mistakes? And yet here you are blaming the child. Besides, everything Fan did was for Ling'er's sake — that kind of devotion is truly rare!"
Tian Buyi rolled his strange eyes but said nothing more.
Su Ru glanced at him. "How do you plan to settle this once you go back? The charge of stealing your master's arts behind his back is no small matter—but out of consideration for Ling'er, let's not push things too far. Tomorrow, just send Fan back to Big Bamboo Peak and have him spend thirty or fifty years in wall-facing penance at the back mountain. That ought to be enough."
Tian Buyi was taken aback for a moment, then let out a snort. "It wasn't easy for even one prodigy—a true oddity—to emerge from among my disciples. Sending him to face the wall would only play into the hands of Cang Song and Shang Zhengliang. Don't even think about it. Tomorrow, come what may, he will continue to compete."
Su Ru smiled radiantly, her grace captivating, and stepped forward to take her husband's hand. "I always knew you were all tough words and a tender heart," she said with a laugh.
A faint flush crossed Tian Buyi's chubby face, though it vanished almost at once. He glanced around at the people nearby. "…we're old husband and wife by now — aren't you afraid of making people laugh?"
Su Ru cast him a sidelong glance, her eyes brimming with amusement. "Afraid now that you've taken your Seat? Three hundred years ago, on this very Tong Peak, during the Seven Sects martial competition, you crept to my quarters in the dead of night and dragged me all the way out here — my master Master Zhenyu and my senior sister Shuiyue were both nearby at the time, and not once did I see you flinch!"
Tian Buyi let out a snort and said with a laugh: "Your master Zhen Yu must have been over six hundred years old by then — senile for ages already. Why would I be afraid of him? As for that demon-faced senior sister of yours, I've had my eye on her for a long time, and not fondly. If she wants to spend her whole life alone, fine — but she just *had* to keep dragging you along with her. I can't even hate her fast enough, let alone fear her!"
Su Ru shot him a glare. "Who gave you permission to speak ill of my master and senior sister! They have both treated me with the deepest affection."
Tian Buyi shrugged and said nothing. In the moonlight, his short, stout frame gave a little shake — quite comical — and there was, unmistakably, a self-satisfied smirk playing about his features, as if to say: *no matter how good they were to you, you still ended up marrying me.*
Su Ru had seen it all, and couldn't help letting out a reproachful murmur: "Shameless old man."
Tian Buyi was in high spirits. He reached out and clasped his wife's silky-smooth jade hand, strolling at an unhurried pace through the billowing sea of clouds.
"Oh, I nearly forgot something important."
"What's wrong?"
"That little wretch treated a fire poker as an Artifact and actually wielded it with impressive flair. I was so caught up in anger just now that I forgot to take the thing and have a proper look at it."
"He has been cultivating on his own after all, and I fear he knows very little about the control and use of Artifacts. Don't you think it would be good to find a time to give him some guidance?"
"Let's wait and see. Last night, Senior Brother Sect Master summoned a few of us. It was after he had communed with the Spirit Venerable through spirit communication that he sensed the Spirit Venerable seemed to have been stirred by the malevolent aura of some sinister creature—but afterward, the trail went completely cold."
"Then what do we do?"
"What else can we do — if we can't find it, we can't find it. The Spiritual Venerable has lived for at least six thousand years; your master was already muddled at six hundred — it's hardly surprising if the Spiritual Venerable is a little confused now!"
“”