“What’s going on?” The other Daoist, hearing the commotion, spun around in alarm, only to find a girl standing in a pool of blood, holding up a head covered in yellow fur, sneering: “I thought you were some heretical cultivator or another. Turns out you’re just a pair of yellow weasels.”
The two yellow weasels hadn’t yet fully cultivated human form, it was only that they’d been wearing Daoist robes with their backs turned, looking human enough from behind, that had led Fengxue to mistake them at first.
Cold moonlight fell across the courtyard.
The Daoist holding the fan spun his head around, revealing a face covered in yellow fur, a long neck, and a pointed snout, glaring at her viciously.
Some Daoist, indeed.
Just a yellow weasel sitting on a low stool.
Exposed by Fengxue, its tail slipped out from beneath its wide robe, swaying back and forth.
Fengxue tossed the severed head at it. “I hear you yellow weasels call yourselves Yellow Immortals, and you’re fiercely protective of your own. Was that your brother who just died?”
“Your brother reeked something awful, by the way.”
The yellow weasel reared up onto its hind legs, standing twice Fengxue’s height, casting a long shadow. Stung by their taunting, every hair on its yellow coat stood on end, each one stiff as a needle.
Fengxue leveled her sword across her chest and thrust it straight at its eyes.
Ye Pengzhou’s Ghost-Wailing Blade flew from his hand, carving a long gash across the weasel’s body before returning to his grip, now shaped like a broadsword. He gripped the hilt with both hands and swung down hard at the creature’s thick, dark yellow tail.
Blade and sword rang out together.
Head and tail fell to the ground at the same instant.
Moving fast, Fengxue stripped the Daoist robe off the yellow weasel before the blood could spray everywhere, leaving a great yellow weasel’s corpse lying in the gore. As the demonic energy leaked away, the body shrank rapidly, reduced to an ordinary weasel’s shape, headless and tailless, lying pathetically in its own blood.
Looking down at the two small yellow weasels lying in blood, Fengxue found herself suddenly wondering, had her own corpse looked something like this, in her past life’s death?
She had no time to dwell on it, though, as a low groan of pain sounded from beside her.
Ye Pengzhou was pinching his nose shut, waving a hand to fan away the smell, his snow-white face utterly drained of color. “So… foul…” he said weakly. “Little Immortal Maiden, why aren’t you affected?”
Fengxue glanced at him. “I sealed off my sense of smell in advance.”
Ye Pengzhou cupped his hands, bowing to her with genuine admiration. “The little Immortal Maiden really is something.”
He unhooked the wine gourd at his waist and took a swig, the strong liquor burning down his throat finally made him feel alive again. “Little Immortal Maiden, let’s toss these two beasts into the alchemical furnace!”
Fengxue had been thinking exactly the same thing.
They tossed the two mangled weasel corpses into the furnace. The flames, once a bright red, took on a dark green tinge once the demonic bodies went in.
“Can this still be refined into a pill?” Ye Pengzhou asked, curious.
Fengxue said, “Even if it does turn into something, it certainly won’t be the elixir that was supposed to make him an immortal.”
Although, given he was clearly some heretical spirit to begin with, whatever “becoming an immortal” meant to him was surely some heretical method anyway.
Ye Pengzhou’s smile widened. “Since he wants to become an immortal so badly, why don’t we help him along, add a few more things to the mix?”
Fengxue met his eyes and returned a knowing smile.
The hundred ghosts all feared peachwood, might as well toss a branch of it into the furnace.
Incense ash carried the weight of prayers and righteous qi, an excellent ghost-repelling ingredient, might as well throw a handful in.
Cinnabar could be used to lay exorcism formations and drive off evil spirits, and it would fit right in too…
Ye Pengzhou crouched by the furnace, fanning the flames, lamenting, “Shame we didn’t bring any black dog’s blood.”
Watching her own supplies dwindle further, Fengxue felt a small pang and said, none too kindly, “Just bleed yourself a little, why don’t you?”
Ye Pengzhou blinked, then burst out laughing. “Little Immortal Maiden, scolding me again?”
Fengxue ignored him and had him keep tending the fire while she looked over the Daoist robes stripped from the yellow weasels. They’d struck fast enough that they’d managed to strip the clothes in time, without too much blood soaking through.
Two more sets of robes, then.
Say what you would about the yellow weasels’ limited skills, but their Daoist robes were finely made, on closer inspection, even more finely crafted than the ones on Qingming Mountain.
She threw one of the robes over her shoulders.
Ye Pengzhou glanced up at the sky. “They said the pill won’t finish until mid-month. Still plenty of time. Shall we go grab a bite of steamed bun somewhere?”
Fengxue said, “Let’s go.”
Ye Pengzhou said, “We’ve got the yellow weasel scent on us now, that should fool the other spirits here. Little Immortal Maiden, why don’t you use your shapeshifting technique to turn me into a weasel too?”
Fengxue’s steps faltered. “Shapeshifting?”
Ye Pengzhou nodded. “Isn’t shapeshifting one of Qingming Mountain’s signature skills?”
Fengxue said, “…I don’t know it.”
Ye Pengzhou blinked, surprised. “How could that be? You’re Immortal Lingyun’s own personal disciple.” The moment the words left his mouth, the ever-stubborn girl pressed her lips tight, shot him an indignant look, and turned her face away, saying coldly, “I simply don’t know it! If you’re so capable, go shapeshift yourself.”
‘Smack.’ Realizing he’d misspoken, Ye Pengzhou slapped himself lightly on the cheek and said with a laugh, “Of course, who ever said Immortal Lingyun’s personal disciple has to master every technique under the sun? The little Immortal Maiden’s swordsmanship is practically divine, why would she need techniques at all? Clearly you’re a free-spirited sword immortal, wandering the mortal world as you please!”
The turbulent heat in Fengxue’s chest slowly settled, a faint blush of embarrassment rising in her pale cheeks. She realized her own reaction had been overblown, that even across two lifetimes, she was still getting worked up over this same old sore point, and felt a flush of shame at herself.
She lowered her eyes and said quietly, “That came out sharper than I meant.”
Ye Pengzhou produced a writing brush from somewhere. “As it happens, I don’t know shapeshifting either. But a demon really ought to look the part, little Immortal Maiden. Let me draw a few whiskers on your face. Back when I used to play drinking games with Ah Yao and the others, whoever lost had to get ‘pig-nose, turtle-egg’ whiskers drawn on their face, and I have to say, I’m pretty good at it!”
A few strokes later, both their pale faces bore a few painted whiskers.
Fengxue looked at his face and couldn’t help laughing. “Why do you look like a cat to me?”
Ye Pengzhou looked at her and laughed too. “Cat or dog, who cares, as long as we don’t look human anymore!”
The two of them shed their outer robes, changed into the weasel-scented Daoist robes instead, memorized the location, and slipped out of the alchemy courtyard.
It was a grand, opulent estate, gardens bursting with flowers, lush green trees, pavilions and towers arranged with careful elegance.
Hiding in the shadows, they saw many minor spirits carrying trays of vegetables, fruit, and fine wine, weaving through the woods. The little spirits wore human clothing, their faces all hidden behind veiled bamboo hats.
Fengxue touched her own face and understood at once. “They’re trying to cultivate into human form, imitating how humans walk and dress, and deliberately hiding their faces behind veiled hats.”
This could well be the banquet host’s own affectation, putting on cultured airs for the sake of appearances.
After all, even with their hats on, these little spirits still looked distinctly monstrous and misshapen, some had a pair of hooves peeking out beneath their skirts, some had hands, holding wooden trays, covered in fur, and others swayed and slithered as if they had no bones at all.
Little spirits who hadn’t even managed to fully shapeshift yet, who couldn’t even walk properly, they were probably all conscripted here against their will.
Which made things convenient for the two of them.
Fengxue smoothly knocked two of the little spirits unconscious, and she and Ye Pengzhou each took a veiled hat, slipping calmly into the procession of spirits.
“Guess the whiskers were a waste of effort, then,” Ye Pengzhou whispered.
Fengxue made a small sound of agreement. “Good thing you only drew a few strokes.”
Ye Pengzhou said, “But…”
“But what?”
Ye Pengzhou remembered the sight of the girl’s round almond eyes looking up at him with painted cat whiskers, and his face went hot. “No… nothing.”
Fengxue said, “Such a fuss over nothing.”
The two of them blended into the procession of spirits, who paid them no mind at all, everyone’s attention was fixed on this Lord Mantou of theirs. The grand feast was laid out, and in the bright moonlight, several bird spirits danced gracefully, their forms slender and elegant, colored ribbons streaming through the air.
A creature wearing a black veiled hat, standing a full head taller than the courtyard wall, strode out.
Judging by the hoof peeking out, it was a wild boar spirit.
It announced loudly, “The feast is prepared. Guests, please be seated.”
Fengxue turned toward the sound and furrowed her brow, thinking to herself: what an overwhelming weight of demonic energy.
”””
With the great Xuanmen gathering about to begin, Qingming Mountain’s disciples had all grown busy, beyond their daily lessons, there were guests to receive, doctrine to discuss, the grounds to sweep every day…
The full moon hung in the night sky.
Late at night, most disciples had finished their day’s work and drifted, exhausted, into sleep.
Yi Qiuyi and Yi Cun’er, having brawled on the mountain a couple of days earlier, had been punished with several dozen strokes of the bamboo cane by the Hall of Discipline, and sentenced to sweeping the mountain stairs as well.
They limped along, sweeping their way from the foot of the mountain up to the front gate, a few white specks left on their shoulders from the birds.
“Brother, my hands and feet are completely numb,” Yi Cun’er complained miserably.
Yi Qiuyi, broom in hand, climbed the mountain steps slowly, too exhausted to want to say another word.
A figure like carved white jade stood quietly on the steps above, a light breeze stirring the hair at her temples.
Her features were fine and lovely, like a porcelain beauty standing in the frost-pale moonlight, watching the two youths with concern.
The Yi brothers’ eyes lit up at once, their exhaustion seeming to drift away on the breeze. “Junior Sister Feng!”
Feng Fuliu came down to meet them, pulling a bottle of medicine from her sleeve and handing it over.
Yi Cun’er took it, saying with a laugh, “Junior Sister Feng, you really are the best. Ugh, my backside’s practically in bloom from all that caning!”
Feng Fuliu said gently, “When Senior Sister comes back from the mountain, you two need to apologize to her.”
Yi Cun’er’s smile collapsed. “Why would we?”
Still looking as delicate and gentle as ever, Feng Fuliu explained calmly, “I’ve told you before, it wasn’t Senior Sister who made me cry this morning.”
Yi Cun’er said loudly, “How could it not be? She’s wronged you all along, saying you’re not the one who saved Senior Brother Shen, saying you’re taking credit that isn’t yours. But you’re clearly the one who found Senior Brother first, and you even hurt your own spiritual meridians keeping him alive! If you didn’t save him, who did?”
Yi Qiuyi added indignantly, “Exactly. She’s been slandering Junior Sister’s good name all this time, isn’t that just because she thinks you’re easy to push around? Just because she’s Immortal Lingyun’s personal disciple, she goes around on this mountain—”
Before he could finish, Feng Fuliu cut him off. “That’s not it. What made me cry this morning had nothing to do with Senior Sister. She never bullied me. You two should be the ones apologizing to her.”
Seeing her expression turn so grave and serious, the two youths couldn’t help feeling uneasy.
“Junior Sister, tell us truthfully, she really didn’t bully you?”
Feng Fuliu nodded.
“Then why were you crying?”
Feng Fuliu was quiet for a moment before saying, “I was thinking of a family member. The way Senior Sister handles a sword reminds me so much of them. And besides, I only happened to find Senior Brother Shen gravely wounded. What if it really was Senior Sister who saved him?”
Yi Cun’er said, “How could that be? Some minor sword technique, leading someone out of the Demon Den? And besides, she claims she has a broken sword to prove she was even in the Demon Den, Junior Sister, have you ever actually seen this broken sword of hers?”
Feng Fuliu lowered her eyes and bit her lip lightly.
“Junior Sister Feng? Have you seen the broken sword?”
Feng Fuliu came back to herself and said with a smile, “Of course I haven’t. Perhaps Senior Sister lost it somewhere in the Demon Den.”
Yi Qiuyi scoffed. “Demon Den, my foot. If you ask me, she never even went into the Demon Den, she made the whole thing up! Huh, Senior Brother Shen…”
Feng Fuliu turned her face and looked up.
At the top of the stairs, beneath the Daoist temple’s gate, stood a youth handsome as an immortal, wrapped in a dark cloak, his long lashes lowered, watching them in silence.
The tree shadows swayed, the moonlight cool and clear, he stood in the mountain wind, his face utterly without expression, gazing steadily at Feng Fuliu, and asked, “Is that true?”
Feng Fuliu said, “What is Senior Brother referring to?”
Shen Yujing said nothing further, glancing instead at Feng Fuliu’s pale face, and said, “The wind’s strong tonight. Go back and rest soon.”
Feng Fuliu said, “Thank you, Senior Brother.”
Under the clear, cool moonlight, a dim column of mist rose straight up in the distance, dark black haze roiling with sickly green, deep red, and violet twisting through it, deeply unsettling, and then, the moment it seemed to turn, the mist vanished, dissolving into the cool night air.
Because they happened to still be standing awake at the top of the stairs, none of them missed that instant when the demonic mist rose.
“That’s…” Yi Qiuyi’s face changed completely. “Is some monster or ghost causing trouble out there?”
Yi Cun’er said, “We should go take a look, a malevolent spirit like that is bound to hurt someone!”
Shen Yujing frowned. “Report to the elders first. Something with that kind of presence is more than the two of you could handle, no need to throw your lives away for nothing.”
The two youths, remembering the fellow disciples who’d died on Ten-Li Street, felt a chill run through them and nodded quickly in agreement.
“But—” Feng Fuliu said, her face pale, staring at the direction the black mist had risen from, her voice soft. “Senior Sister Fengxue went that way.”
Yi Cun’er’s face fell in shock. “What? Her skills aren’t up to that, we have to go save her!”
Feng Fuliu frowned, saying with some conflict, “I asked Master Ziyun about it. The commission Senior Sister Fengxue took on was supposed to be an extremely simple matter, something even an ordinary mystic from below the mountain could handle.”
“That’s good, then,” Yi Qiuyi said, letting out a breath of relief. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence they happen to be in the same direction. Her luck can’t possibly be so bad that she’d run into something like this too, right? Still, this is urgent, Junior Sister, Senior Brother, let’s go report to the elders quickly!”
But when they turned to look back—
The top of the stairs stood completely empty. Only a single green leaf, stirred by the breeze, drifted silently down to the ground.