Upon seeing Zhang Fan there, Qi Hao and Zeng Shushu both greeted him with smiles of varying warmth. Lu Xueqi alone remained expressionless as ever, yet her gaze still flicked toward him for a fleeting moment—and in the depths of her eyes, some nameless emotion seemed to flicker past, only to dissolve and vanish in an instant.
True Person Daoxuan looked at the four disciples gathered in the hall below and smiled. "The reason I have summoned the four of you here today concerns one matter: I intend to send you down the mountain to temper yourselves through real-world trials."
Qi Hao and the others were all visibly moved.
True Person Daoxuan recounted the incident at Kongsan Mountain's "Ten-Thousand Bat Ancient Cave" from the previous day, then said: "This matter is of the gravest importance. You four are the finest disciples under my tutelage, which is precisely why I am sending you to investigate. However, the fiends of the Demon Cult are cunning, treacherous, and vicious — you must all proceed with the utmost caution."
The four of them answered in unison: "Yes."
True Person Daoxuan nodded. "Apart from our Qingyun Sect, both Fenxiang Valley and Tianyin Temple have dispatched capable disciples to join in the pursuit and investigation. In the presence of others, you must conduct yourselves with propriety—yet neither shall you let the prestige of our Qingyun Sect be diminished. Moreover, Senior Brother Xiao Yicai of the Chang Gate has long since set out for Kongsang Mountain to look into this matter. Should you find him, be sure to consult with him on all things."
The four exchanged a glance, then answered in unison once more.
True Person Daoxuan studied the four young-generation disciples with a measured gaze, his eyes finally coming to rest on Qi Hao. He beckoned and said, "Qi Hao, come here."
Qi Hao froze for a moment, then stepped forward. True Person Daoxuan looked him up and down, then turned to Daoist Cangsong with a smile: "Junior Brother, Dragon Peak has a worthy successor after all!"
Daoist Cangsong's expression had been sour since a moment ago, but now he finally managed a smile. "Senior Brother jests," he said with a laugh.
True Person Daoxuan smiled and drew an object from within his robes, passing it down to Qi Hao.
Qi Hao took it and looked—it was a mirror, ancient and unrefined in shape, with a bronze filigreed border. Dragons were carved across the top and tigers along the bottom, and the Eight Trigrams were engraved around its face. Yet the mirror surface itself was nothing like an ordinary bronze mirror; it was a murky, hazy yellow, impossible to see anything clearly within.
Before Qi Hao could even register what was happening, True Person Cangsong beside him was already beaming with joy, barking, "You fool, what are you standing there dazed for? Quickly kneel and give your thanks!"
Qi Hao immediately came to his senses, realizing that the unremarkable object in his hand was in all likelihood an Artifact. He hastily dropped to his knees and gave his thanks to the Sect Master.
True Person Daoxuan smiled and said, "No need, no need—rise." He then turned to the others and said, "You may all leave first."
Knowing that he was about to impart to Qi Hao the secrets of the **Mirror, everyone withdrew together.
Walking out of the hall, Zhang Fan stepped aside with Tian Buyi. Tian Buyi glanced at him and said calmly, "You bear a heavy responsibility now — there is no need to return to Big Bamboo Peak. Wait a moment, then descend the mountain together with those three. As for Big Bamboo Peak, I will handle things there in your stead."
Zhang Fan was startled, then lowered his head and murmured, "Father."
Tian Buyi said: "During this past month while you were recuperating, I had your shifu's wife pass on to you some sword-controlling techniques and secret Daoist formulas. Have you committed them all to memory?"
Zhang Fan nodded. "This disciple has noted it all."
Tian Buyi turned around and said slowly, "Good. Though your aptitude is poor, you are still a disciple of my Big Bamboo Peak. When you go out there, don't bring shame upon me."
Zhang Fan immediately said: "Father, this disciple will never bring shame upon you."
Tian Buyi let out a grunt. With his back turned, Zhang Fan could not see his face and had no way of reading his expression, but from the sound of his voice there was no trace of anger. After a long moment, Tian Buyi seemed to heave a sigh. He turned and glanced at Zhang Fan, said nothing more, gave a casual wave of his hand—a wordless acknowledgment—then summoned his immortal sword, split the sky open, and was gone.
Zhang Fan stood in a daze, watching his master's figure transform into a streak of crimson light and vanish into the distance. He was still staring when a hand clapped him on the shoulder, making him start. He spun around hastily, only to find Zeng Shushu grinning at him. Glancing around, he saw that the seats of all the other branches had already left; only the two of them remained, along with Lu Xueqi, who stood alone at a distance.
"You're quite the survivor — I was genuinely worried you wouldn't make it through this time!"
Being with him, Zhang Fan immediately felt much more at ease. Hearing this, he laughed and said, "Yeah, I was scared half to death too."
Zeng Shushu patted him on the shoulder, glanced around him front and back, and said in a low voice, "How come you didn't bring Ash?"
Zhang Fan pulled a long face. "My master brought me here first thing this morning — I never expected to head back down the mountain so soon. I didn't bring anything with me. How was I supposed to think of ash?"
…as for clothes, I can lend you some, or we can wait until we head down to Heyang City at the foot of the mountain and buy a set there." He winked at Zhang Fan and whispered with a chuckle, "Heh, either way, we've made out pretty well this time."
"Did Zhang Fan not understand its meaning?"
Zeng Shushu's eyebrows shot up. He stole a glance over his shoulder and sniggered, "We've got a beauty tagging along!"
Zhang Fan felt both annoyed and amused, yet he couldn't help glancing over toward Lu Xueqi. At that very moment, as if sensing something, she too looked in his direction. Their gazes met across the distance, and Zhang Fan felt the frost in her eyes — it startled him, and he hurriedly looked away.
The two of them shared a laugh for a moment. Zeng Shushu was whispering to him about what it would be like once they set off together with 6 Xueqi, when she suddenly noticed that Zhang Fan's previously smiling face had gone rigid, his gaze turning glassy as it fixed on something behind her.
Zeng Shushu felt a faint ripple of puzzlement and turned to look — only to see a man making his unsteady way up the long flight of steps. He was somewhere in his forties, his clothes reasonably clean, yet his face wore a blank, bewildered expression, his eyes glassy and unfocused, his mouth muttering a stream of disjointed, incoherent words:
It's raining — oh goodness, dear mama — an Immortal, an Immortal, hehe, an Immortal~
Under the gazes of Zeng Shushu and Lu Xueqi watching from afar, Zhang Fan walked over—very slowly, so very slowly—as if a long time had passed before he finally reached the man's side.
It was as if one had walked right up to the side of the past itself!
"Second Uncle Wang, are you alright?" He desperately suppressed his surging emotions, speaking in a hushed voice.
The man's eyes held no awareness of Zhang Fan's presence whatsoever. Still murmuring under his breath, he brushed past Zhang Fan and walked on, disappearing behind the main hall moments later.
"Who is he?" Zeng.
Zhang Fan stared at the spot where Second Uncle Wang's figure had disappeared, and said with desolate sorrow, "A madman!"
Zeng Shushu read his expression and tactfully asked no further. After a moment, Qi Hao emerged from the great hall with a face full of joy, and greeted the three of them.
Zhang Fan walked over alongside Zeng Shushu, his mind elsewhere. After a brief discussion among the group, they decided to descend the mountain first and make their way to Heyang City.
"Senior Brother, is the **Mirror bestowed upon you by the Sect Master Uncle very powerful?"
Qi Hao smiled and said: "The \*\*Mirror is the supreme treasure of our Qingyu Sect — naturally it is formidable. The only fear is that my own cultivation falls short! Heh, well then. This is the mountain summit; aside from the Seven Meridian Masters, no other disciples may ride their swords here. Let us descend to the Sea of Clouds, and from there fly on our swords to Heyang City."
Xueqi's face was expressionless, Zhang Fan nodded blankly, and only Zeng Shushu was all smiles — for someone as fun-loving as him, descending the mountain was quite a joyous occasion indeed.
※※※
From Qingyun Sect to Heyang City, the four most "outstanding" disciples of the sect traveled the entire journey on their swords. The others moved with ease and grace, but Zhang Fan could not help finding it rather strenuous.
He spent a month recuperating from his wounds. Su Ru had apparently long since anticipated that he would come through unscathed, and took the opportunity to pass on to him a number of secret techniques from the Qingyu Sect's Dao arts, along with the method of driving an Artifact through the air in flight. It was, in principle, straightforward enough: provided one's cultivation ran sufficiently deep and the Artifact was not too inferior, one need only channel the Qingyu Sect's Dao arts alongside one's mental force to set the Artifact in motion. The trouble was that Zhang Fan's cultivation was still shallow, and while his Artifact was anything but ordinary, it was deeply eccentric in nature—and on top of that, he was wholly unfamiliar with the Qingyu Sect's Dao arts he had only just begun to learn. The moment he attempted to put it all together, the difficulties came thick and fast.
Su Ru had never expected that he would immediately want to descend the mountain the moment he set foot on Tong Peak. She had planned to first have him memorize the technique formulas, then let him practice more after returning to Dazhu Peak. The sect masters of the other branches naturally knew nothing of this peculiar disciple's background either. Watching his performance in the Seven Branches Martial Arts Grand Tournament, they simply assumed he must know even this most fundamental art of sword-riding. What none of them realized was that Zhang Fan had secretly taught himself Daoist techniques, stumbling his way to the "Object Driving" realm through sheer confusion—yet knowing nothing whatsoever about the art of sword-riding.
Watching the others summon their immortal swords — Qi Hao's gleaming white "Hanbing," Lu Xueqi's azure "Ye," and Zeng Shushu's "Xuanyuan," faintly wreathed in purple aura — Zhang Fan felt a knot of anxiety tighten in his chest. He forced himself to summon the "Fire Stick," yet the sensation was somehow off, lacking the easy, instinctive command he had felt on the day of the Seven Meridians Tournament.
Piercing through clouds and crossing mountains, a stretch of road that should have taken no more than half a day — yet the four of them did not reach Heyang City until the sun had already dipped below the hills. To avoid arousing suspicion, Zhang Fan and the other three descended to the ground at a secluded spot outside the city walls. By then, every one of them was soaked through to the skin, their faces ashen — a sight that seemed even more wretched than the day of the contest.
Several times along the way up, he nearly lost control of his fire-starting staff. Had Qi Hao and the others not noticed that something was wrong and stayed too close to stray far, lending him a hand at the critical moment, this newly acclaimed "outstanding disciple" of Qingyun Sect might well have plummeted from the sky and died in a broken heap — bringing disgrace upon the Sect before he had ever brought it glory, and leaving behind an infamy to outlast him for generations. Qi Hao and the others decided to stop outside the city and enter on foot. Though there was some element of avoiding suspicion in this choice, there was also the very real fear that should Zhang Fan lose his footing in the crowded marketplace inside the city, in full view of countless onlookers, the lofty prestige that Qingyun Sect had spent two thousand years painstakingly building here would be shattered in a single instant — a catastrophe most lamentable indeed!
After a brief rest, once Zhang Fan had caught his breath, the four of them set off toward the towering walls of Heyang City beneath the setting sun. Zhang Fan walked at the rear, catching the puzzled glances that Qi Hao and Lu Xueqi cast back at him from time to time. Clearly they could not understand how someone who had dazzled everyone at the Seven Veins Martial Assembly could fail to manage even ordinary sword-flight. Zeng Shushu, however, walked cheerfully at Zhang Fan's side as if nothing had happened, not breathing a word about the incident, and rattled on at length introducing him to Heyang City:
Within a hundred li in every direction, this was the largest and most prosperous place to be found. The people living in this city numbered no fewer than two or three hundred thousand, and its location was favorable besides—merchants and travelers came and went in great numbers, lending the place an even greater air of bustle and vitality.
As Zhang Fan listened on, he found himself genuinely impressed by Zeng: "?"
A crafty grin spread across his face as he leaned close to Zhang Fan's ear and whispered, "Actually, I've been here plenty of times before—I always sneak down the mountain."
Zhang Fan was utterly stunned. "You—"
"Why do you look so frightened? What's the big deal? Since I've been practicing the art of sword-riding, I naturally need to train often. I flew and flew and ended up here — when I got tired, I came down to walk around the streets. What's so remarkable about that?!"
Zhang Fan was left speechless.
Listening to the two of them whispering behind him, Qi Hao smiled faintly and turned to Lu Xueqi at his side. "Junior Sister Lu, the hour grows late. Let us make camp here tonight and continue our journey tomorrow."
6Xueqi's face was cold as frost, utterly expressionless; she gave only a faint nod.
Upon entering the city, they had changed out of their Qingyu Sect disciples' robes early on to avoid drawing unwanted attention, and indeed raised no suspicion. Xueqi's appearance, however, was strikingly beautiful, causing quite a stir and drawing many passersby to stop and stare. Zhang Fan glanced sidelong at Xueqi and saw that, though her face remained expressionless, a flicker of anger had crossed her bright eyes. He could not help feeling worried for those onlookers — if her sword were drawn, this ancient city with its storied history might well be half-reduced to rubble before anything else happened.
However, Lu Xueqi's composure proved far greater than Zhang Fan had anticipated. Even after the four of them had settled into an inn called the Shanhai Yuan, she gave no sign of stirring. Qi Hao was the most seasoned of the group, and the others had tacitly come to regard him as their leader. It was he who stepped forward to handle the lodging arrangements, and the innkeeper duly assigned them rooms in the finest quarters of the rear garden.
The Shanhai Garden was quite expansive. Its rear grounds contained four separate courtyard estates; the four of them were lodged in the Western Courtyard, each with a room of their own. After resting for a while, Qi Hao rounded everyone up and headed to the restaurant at the front for dinner.
The Shanhai Yuan had its own restaurant, situated on the busiest street in Heyang City, yet the VIP hall on the third floor was remarkably tranquil — the spacious room held fewer than ten tables, with perhaps five of them currently occupied by diners. Qi Hao called a waiter over and ordered several dishes; by the look of him, he was quite familiar with the place, most likely a regular.
Such were Zhang Fan's thoughts. Born to a farming family, he had never set foot in so lavish a place as Shanhai Garden. Passing through the second floor earlier, he had glimpsed a hall of breathtaking splendor; yet arriving on the third floor, he found carved dragons and painted phoenixes, redwood crossbeams, and an air of antique refinement utterly unlike what lay below. He had no way of knowing that when people of this world reach a place of wealth and status, they turn instead to the pursuit of taste and distinction. Some, of course, are fond of glittering extravagance—yet to earn even a single remark about one's cultivation and refinement, affecting a love of elegance one does not truly feel is a common enough thing.
The four of them sat at a table by the window. Zeng Shushu glanced around at the hall's décor and said to Qi Hao, "Senior Brother Qi, the prices here aren't cheap, are they?"
Qi Hao smiled slightly. "This is the finest inn in Heyang City, so naturally the prices are nothing to scoff at—but our Qingyun Sect has long held a fine reputation here, and their owner would be more than glad to have us. They won't charge us much."
Zeng Shushu gave a murmur of assent and nodded in agreement. After a short while, the waiter carried up several plates of fresh stir-fried dishes, and last of all came a plate of newly braised fish. The fish had an elongated body, rounded toward the front and narrowing at the sides toward the rear, its skin a dark brownish hue with two pairs of thick, long whiskers. Best of all was its flesh—white, tender, and glistening, the fragrance drifting up in waves and instantly setting every appetite alight.
Zhang Fan had always had an interest in cooking, and having never encountered this sort of fish before, he could not help but ask the waiter, "Brother, what kind of fish is this, and how is it prepared?"
The waiter let out a chuckle. "Sir, you truly have an eye for quality! This dish, 'Clear-Steamed Mei Fish,' is our Shanhai Garden's signature. Delicate in fragrance, smooth and tender, with a sweetness that melts on the palate — within a hundred li of Heyang City, it is widely renowned."
Zhang Fan swallowed, picked up his chopsticks, and placed a morsel into his mouth. He immediately closed his eyes and nodded repeatedly: "The quality is truly superb, but the cooking is even better. The sweetness comes from a touch of sugar; ginger slices were added to remove the gamey smell, then the scallions were fried to release their aroma — it must have been fresh scallion heads used. What's rare is how perfectly the pepper, five-spice — ah yes, and the sesame oil — have all been balanced together. Remarkable, truly remarkable!"
His expression was one of utter rapture, leaving Qi Hao and Zeng Shushu slack-jawed in disbelief. Even Lu Xueqi turned to look at him, a peculiar expression crossing her face. The shop attendant standing to one side, however, was genuinely filled with the deepest admiration, and called out in loud praise: "You are a true connoisseur, good sir — you really know your goods!"
Only then did Zhang Fan notice the expressions on the faces of those around him. His cheeks flushed red, and he quickly set down his chopsticks — yet he still couldn't help pressing the question: "Second Brother, where does this Sleeper Fish come from?"
Before the waiter could reply, a woman's voice rang out from beside a large table nearby: "The Mei fish is a specialty of the Zhugou Mountains in the south—a thousand *li* from here. How could it possibly be brought all this way? Are you not simply deceiving your customers?"
Everyone was startled and turned to look. At a large table sat eight people: six men clad in yellow robes, and two women. One wore a pale violet gown, her face veiled in a wisp of gauze that concealed her features, yet what little skin lay exposed was white as snow. The other woman was the one who had spoken—young, no more than sixteen or seventeen by appearance, dressed in a water-green robe. Her looks were comely: fine brows, a fair complexion, and a pair of large, bright eyes full of vivid spirit that caught the gaze at once. In beauty, she was no less than Xueqi herself.
Zhang Fan let out a sound of surprise. After the woman finished speaking, her gaze drifted to Lu Xueqi, who sat at his table, as though she too had been struck by Lu Xueqi's beauty. Women are drawn to beauty — even Lu Xueqi, ordinarily cold as frost, could not help but steal another glance at the woman in that moment.
The waiter smiled ingratiatingly and said: "The honored guest is quite right, though there is something you may not know. It is true that a hundred years ago the sleeper fish was found only in the southern Zhugou Mountains, but True Person Daoxuan of the Qingyun Sect happened to pass through those mountains and was kind enough to bring some back, releasing them into the Hongchuan waters on the shaded side of Qingyun Mountain. Not only have they thrived there ever since, but their numbers have grown with each passing year. We are all blessed by the grace of the immortal True Person Daoxuan on Qingyun Mountain, to enjoy such a rare delicacy!" As he spoke, an expression of the deepest reverence spread across his face.
Zhang Fan and the other disciples of Qingyu Sect were naturally delighted at the sight, their faces breaking into smiles. But the young girl, upon hearing this, turned to exchange a glance with the veiled woman beside her, then sat back down with a soft huff.
※※※
After finishing a delicious dinner, Zhang Fan and the others returned to their lodgings, satisfied and content. At the entrance to the Western Courtyard, Qi Hao said to the group: "Everyone, please rest here for tonight. Early tomorrow morning, we will set out for Kongsang Mountain."
Zhang Fan and Zeng Shushu murmured their assent, but Lu Xueqi said nothing at all — she simply turned and walked straight back to her room, shutting the door behind her with a sharp click. Qi Hao stood there for a moment, then gave the two of them a wry smile. "Junior brothers, get some rest early as well."
Zhang Fan glanced at his handsome face, and in the glow of the setting sun, Qi Hao's bearing was no less brilliant than before—if anything, there was now a faint air of transcendence about him. A sudden wave of despondency washed over Zhang Fan, draining him of all energy. He managed a half-hearted greeting to Zeng Shushu, ignored Qi Hao entirely, and walked back to his room alone.
Zeng Shushu let out a soft chuckle, exchanged a few light-hearted words with Qi Hao, and the two then went their separate ways back to their rooms to rest.
That night was the first time Zhang Fan had left Mount Qingyun in five years. He tossed and turned, unable to sleep for reasons he could not name. It was not until the middle of the night that he finally drifted into an uneasy slumber—only to find himself jolted by a dream: he stood drenched in blood, his face twisted and savage, amid a mountain of corpses and a sea of gore. Deep within him surged an unspeakable, feverish bloodlust. The crimson blood before his eyes was like sweet, beckoning spring water, luring him, tempting him, filling him with an irresistible urge to claim it all through slaughter.
"Ah!"
Zhang Fan jolted awake from his dream, shooting bolt upright and gulping for breath, his entire body drenched in sweat. Only after a good long while did his frantically hammering heart slowly begin to settle.
He sat in a daze in the darkness for a long while. Absentmindedly, he reached out and touched the fire poker resting beside his pillow — a wave of icy coldness enveloped him. This dream bore an uncanny resemblance to the nightmares that had haunted him without respite over the years: that scene of becoming an entirely different person, that bloodthirsty killer lurking within the dream — it filled even himself with dread.
Silence reigned on all sides, the surroundings plunged in pitch darkness.
He crossed his legs, sat up straight in the darkness, drew a deep breath, closed his eyes, and pressed his palms together before him.
The darkness was like a gentle woman, softly wreathing itself around his body, as a faint layer of golden light seeped from within him, flickering in and out of sight. Bathed in that dim radiance, Zhang Fan's face seemed to take on a solemnity that had no business belonging to him.
How much time had passed, none could say—only that the golden radiance slowly faded at last, and Zhang Fan opened his eyes in the darkness, his heart utterly at peace. Whenever such moments came, he found himself missing that kind and gentle monk, Puzhi.
Sleep had abandoned him entirely. He walked to the doorway, pushed open the door, and stepped outside. The rooms nearby were all shrouded in darkness — Qi Hao and the others must have already fallen asleep. The rear garden of Shanhai Yuan was built within a larger garden, with four separate courtyards positioned at each of the four cardinal directions. Zhang Fan walked out from the western courtyard where he resided and arrived at the central garden.
It was deep into the night. Gazing up at the heavens, a canopy of stars filled the sky, a full moon hanging at its edge. A gentle night breeze drifted past, carrying with it the faint trace of some sweet fragrance. The path wound ahead, deep and secluded, leading toward some nameless place beyond. Along its sides, green grass and shrubs grew thick, and flowers of every hue bloomed across the ground.
Zhang Fan's heart stirred with a wave of wistful melancholy. He followed the path onward, a gentle breeze grazing his face and carrying with it threads of cool, refreshing air.
On such a tranquil night, a young man walked alone through the deep and secluded garden, lingering over memories of the past.
By the roadside, a flower trembled softly in the night breeze, its pink-white petals adorned with crystalline dewdrops, translucent and exquisite. Zhang Fan halted his steps, and found himself gazing at it, utterly transfixed.
A faint, delicate fragrance drifted over quietly.
Suddenly, a slender jade hand reached out as if from the depths of eternal darkness, carrying with it a quiet, otherworldly beauty, dappled with the glow of moonlight and starlight, and softly extended toward the flower.
Snapped it off!
In that moment, a sound rang through Zhang Fan's mind, as though the full moon had lost all its brilliance, and the garden plunged at once into darkness.
He turned his head and looked over, a faint, inexplicable hatred in his eyes.
A young maiden clad in water-green robes stood there, as though all the radiance around her had gathered to her alone, as she gently lifted the blossoms to her nose and breathed in deeply.
※※※
Note 1: *Classic of Mountains and Seas*, "Classic of Mountains, Vol. 4 — Mount Zhugou": Traveling five hundred *li* southward by water, one arrives at Mount Zhugou. It bears no grass or trees, and abounds in sand and stone. This mountain stretches a hundred *li* in circumference and teems with *mèi* fish.