This time, it was Liu Ziyi’s turn to be astonished.
“Ji… Uncle-Master?”
Ji Qingru, Uncle-Master Ji.
He was Sect Master Shen Qing’s second junior brother and Third Elder Fuye’s second senior brother. The three individuals holding supreme authority within the Fujian Sect were none other than the three disciples of the previous generation’s sect master: Shen Qing, Ji Qingru, and Fuye.
Yet nowadays, that name was almost never spoken of anymore. Many people said he was dead, while others claimed he had betrayed the Fujian Sect and thus refused to return.
Liu Ziyi furrowed his brow. “What is going on here…?”
Wuwang Peak, where Ji Qingru resided, was located directly behind the back mountain of Youning Peak, true to fact. However, Ji Qingru had been missing for over a decade; how could he possibly be hiding right there in the back mountain?
Still, he had indeed heard of the title held by his Second Uncle-Master, the Elegant Sword Gentleman.
With a single sword and a single ring, the demonic forces weep in wailing.
Seeing that Shen Qing no longer had the composure to continue discussing the matter, he managed to rein in his emotions, gripped Liu Ziyi’s shoulders tightly once more, and instructed:
“Do not speak of this to anyone, especially your Third Uncle-Master Fuye. Do you understand?”
Remembering the silent bell hanging from Fuye’s hair, Liu Ziyi didn’t entirely understand the reasoning behind Shen Qing’s warning, but he still nodded. “This disciple understands.”
Only then did Shen Qing loosen his grip and let go of him, before gazing at the sky and saying, “If Mingxiu has nothing else pressing, you should head back and rest first.”
Liu Ziyi nodded, guessing that Shen Qing likely wanted to mobilize people immediately to investigate the back mountain. After all, the grand tournament was approaching, and with the sect filled with a mixed crowd of visitors and various complications arising, trying to track down Ji Qingru’s whereabouts later would undoubtedly become even more difficult.
Despite the unexpected twists, Liu Ziyi had at least obtained the answer he sought during this excursion.
Or rather, it was perhaps the answer he least wished to know.
The Fujian Sect had never excelled in pharmacology and alchemy. The sect only invited a few high-level medicinal masters and alchemists as distinguished guests to handle various emergencies within the sect.
Yet the teachings Shen Qing had handed down to him and his senior brother were exclusively sword techniques and mental cultivation methods.
Shen Zhuoqing had never displayed any innate talent in pharmacology, so how did he know which spiritual plants were required for the antidote to the Thousand-Sands poison? More specifically, considering Shen Zhuoqing had separated from him, how did he even know that the poison he had contracted was Thousand-Sands grass?
All of these doubts pointed straight to Liu Ziyi’s initial speculation.
Shen Zhuoqing had known ahead of time that he would fall victim to the Thousand-Sands poison, that his thumb web and meridians would be injured, and that missing the optimal window for treatment would spell disaster.
That was why his attitude had abruptly shifted back then, agreeing to split up, all for the purpose of rapidly locating those two medicinal herbs to cure his poison and treat his injuries.
Liu Ziyi stood outside Shen Qing’s courtyard gates, his mind thrown into disarray by the confirmed suspicions in his heart, leaving him with no spare energy to dwell on the matter of Ji Qingru.
He leaned against the gate, beneath his feet lying the year-round unmelting snow of Tianxuang Cliff.
Having channeled what little spiritual energy he had left over to Shen Zhuoqing, he actually felt rather cold at the moment.
As if awakened by this chill, Liu Ziyi raised his eyes to gaze down the long, winding mountain path before the cliff.
What else could I do?
With a low sigh, Liu Ziyi raised his bandaged right hand. At least this counted as a legitimate reason to sit out the martial arts tournament.
Perhaps because it was treated promptly, his right hand was able to recover at such a rapid pace following such a severe tearing injury.
Even if Shen Zhuoqing had indeed concealed something from him, the man had still personally treated his injuries and even exposed something as vulnerable as his inner demons right before his eyes.
Liu Ziyi could find no reason to blame Shen Zhuoqing for his concealment.
Figuring that Shen Qing would have his hands full with the situation regarding Ji Qingru for a while, Liu Ziyi shook his head and murmured, “Forget it.”
“Tomorrow, let’s go check on that fellow Qiu Zaiqi, and by the way, deliver the twisting vine-skin we harvested to Shiyun Pavilion.”
Though it looked a bit rugged, it was a fantastic spiritual plant for enhancing the flavor of meat dishes.
As he chatted and joked thus with the Xiliu sword at his waist, an image of an improved version of the Yaoguo White-Dew Duck seemed to float before his eyes, chasing away his vexations and bringing a smile back to his face.
Liu Ziyi’s figure vanished from before Shen Qing’s doorway.
The space outside the courtyard remained quiet for a long while before a figure leisurely materialized along the deep, secluded mountain path not far away, it was none other than Shen Zhuoqing, who had trailed after Liu Ziyi for quite some time.
He had caught the sound of movement the moment Liu Ziyi stepped outside, tailing him all the way and even overhearing the conversation between his master and Liu Ziyi.
Only upon confirming that Liu Ziyi had not disclosed the matter of his inner demons to Shen Qing did he finally set his mind at ease.
He shouldn’t have worried that his junior brother would act as an informant, anyway.
Xiao Liu was never someone prone to recklessness.
Shrouded in the night, Shen Zhuoqing recalled the thoughtful glance Liu Ziyi had cast earlier, and then remembered his rambling self-talk about yearning for White-Dew Duck, causing a sudden softening in his heart. A helpless smile bloomed at the corners of his lips amidst the pitch-black night.
“Such a foodie, and yet he never learns his lesson…”
Perhaps in the future, he should take him down the mountain more often to sample those delicacies.
Liu Ziyi returned to his room. Perhaps because his internal spiritual energy was too thin to maintain effective cold resistance, he had to wrap himself in his bedding two or three times over before finally drifting into a hazy slumber.
Fortunately, his days of unconsciousness didn’t count as real rest, so Liu Ziyi didn’t suffer from insomnia.
When he finally heard movement and opened his eyes, it was already noon the following day.
After a sound and restful sleep that left him entirely unbothered by the disturbances, he peeled back his eyelids to look inside the room, spotting Shen Zhuoqing standing right by the doorway behind the folding screen, seemingly conversing with someone.
Still wrapped up tightly like a caterpillar inside his quilt, Liu Ziyi found it inconvenient to get up, so he simply called out toward the entrance: “Senior Brother?”
The silhouette behind the screen paused. The conversation cut off abruptly, and Shen Zhuoqing walked in, halting for a split second upon catching sight of the human-shaped lump on the bed. “Xiao Liu… you’re awake. Did you rest well?”
Liu Ziyi let out a couple of hums to indicate that he had slept quite soundly last night, showing none of the sharpness he had displayed the night before. Without questioning why Shen Zhuoqing had barged into his room uninvited, he simply asked, “Is someone here?”
“Mn, it’s Daoist Qiu,” Shen Zhuoqing replied.
Daoist Qiu?
Oh, what is Qiu Zaiqi doing here?
Liu Ziyi narrowed his eyes as he reminisced for a brief second, then abruptly kicked off the bedding and sat straight up.
“Today is the martial arts tournament?”
As soon as Liu Ziyi’s shout rang out, even Qiu Zaiqi outside the door heard it.
Just as Qiu Zaiqi was about to voice his irritation over Liu Ziyi’s closed doors, he heard a muffled thud echo from the inner chamber.
Liu Ziyi had rolled off the bed again.
Discarding any concern for the bedding that had slipped to the floor, he figured that since he used the Dust-Clearing Technique every single day, the floor was guaranteed to be spotless anyway.
Tossing the quilt back onto the couch, Liu Ziyi grabbed his outer robe and threw it over his shoulders. “Which round are they up to now?”
Seeing him scramble about in such a fluster, Shen Zhuoqing let out a soft sigh, stepped forward, and reached out to straighten his folded collar. Drawing him almost entirely into his embrace, he brushed against the dark hair cascading over the youth’s shoulders as he said, “There’s no rush. It’s still just the preliminary rounds. Tie up your hair properly first.”
Hearing those words allowed Liu Ziyi to relax slightly.
He glanced sideways toward the mirror on the stand by the bedside. His hair, dark as ink, hung softly against his shoulders, even without grooming for several days, only a couple of strands near his temples had gone astray, making his porcelain-white face look all the more striking. His dark, clear eyes reflected the ambiguous distance between them, along with Shen Zhuoqing’s hand brushing past his locks,
Liu Ziyi yanked himself backward by a large step, shattering the strange ambiguity hanging between them.
“I can do it myself…”
He wasn’t injured to the point of needing Shen Zhuoqing’s help to wash and dress himself. Dodging Shen Zhuoqing’s movements, he swiftly tied up his hair in front of the mirror before calling out toward the exterior: “Qiu Zaiqi, I’m coming right out!”
A faint “Mn” drifted back from outside.
Shen Zhuoqing could only follow helplessly behind him.
Stepping out of the bedroom, Liu Ziyi immediately found Qiu Zaiqi’s gaze locked fixedly onto the injury on his hand.
“You really are injured,” Qiu Zaiqi said, frowning as if scolding him for failing to take care of himself. “To be so careless with your right hand, when the time comes that you can’t even hold your sword steady, how do you expect to spar with me?”
Liu Ziyi knew the guy was going to spout nonsense like that, so he couldn’t be bothered to argue with him. Right now, he just wanted to hurry over to the sparring arena and watch the tournament.
He had promised his close-knit junior and senior brothers early on that he would cheer for them from the spectator stands.
However, Liu Ziyi hadn’t expected Shen Zhuoqing beside him to step up in his defense: “Accidental injuries are impossible for anyone to foresee, but our Xiao Liu appreciates Daoist Qiu’s concern.”
Liu Ziyi paused at those words. What a smooth line about nobody foreseeing it, and wonder who happened to harvest every single required medicinal herb with pinpoint accuracy.
Over there, Qiu Zaiqi realized his tone had been too harsh and silently looked away, though the lingering gaze falling on Liu Ziyi practically screamed: You better heal that hand properly, because if it leaves a chronic injury, I won’t let you hear the end of it.
Liu Ziyi floated a carefree smile in response, arched an eyebrow, and led the two of them toward the sparring arena.
Tianxuang Cliff, Sparring Arena.
The Fujian Sect’s martial arts arena, spanning a full hundred zhang in radius, was already surrounded by visiting cultivators from all directions.
Practitioners from various sects and clans brought along spirit beasts and exotic pets, riding diverse mounts, yet not a single person made a sound to disrupt the battles on the stage, even though the cultivators within the protective barriers couldn’t hear the outside noise at all.
Amidst this atmosphere of extreme concentration, the sudden arrival of the trio stood out rather prominently.
Shen Zhuoqing and Qiu Zaiqi alone were already eye-catching enough, let alone Liu Ziyi, who had previously been rumored to be in poor condition and likely to withdraw from the tournament,
Almost the moment they stepped into the vicinity of the arena, a flurry of whispering erupted all around them, accompanied naturally by a great deal of covert sound-transmission.
“Is that Liu Ziyi, the one who pulled off the Star-Bucket Sword during the last tournament?”
“So he really did withdraw because he got injured.”
“Did he get hurt in a secret realm? I heard the Qinghong Secret Realm opened up again recently.”
“The travel time from here to the Qinghong Secret Realm takes at least several days, the timeline doesn’t match…”
Clearly, the strong always held a fascination for more mysterious rising stars.
Qiu Zaiqi, who had previously been outmatched by Liu Ziyi, barely garnered a mention, and even Shen Zhuoqing, the peerless generational genius of sword cultivation, currently commanded far fewer looks.
Neither Qiu Zaiqi nor Shen Zhuoqing cared about such superficial fame, while Liu Ziyi, situated right at the eye of the storm, couldn’t care less about eavesdropping on what others were muttering. His gaze was fixed entirely on the stage.
One look prompted a mental tsk.
“I missed it!”
The person battling the foreign sect swordsman up top was none other than Qin Xiaoyi.
Liu Ziyi felt a twinge of annoyance. He had felt weak yesterday and hadn’t expected to sleep so deeply, if he had woken up a bit earlier, he probably would have made it in time.
Why hadn’t Senior Brother woken him up earlier? He just had to time it right down to the minute.
“Didn’t you know the tournament schedule?” Qiu Zaiqi asked from the side.
“I only woke up from unconsciousness last night, what do you think?” Liu Ziyi grumbled dejectedly.
“I already finished my matches, too,” Qiu Zaiqi added immediately.
Liu Ziyi was busy observing the situation on the sparring stage and gave a perfunctory nod, figuring that Qiu Zaiqi must have been slated early in the preliminary matches, finishing his fights before coming up the cliff to hunt him down.
Qin Xiaoyi was in prime condition up on the stage, displaying exquisite swordsmanship and a rock-solid foundation. One could tell at a glance that he had memorized his sword manuals and core doctrines like the back of his hand, without needing to guess, it was obvious this match would wrap up with Qin Xiaoyi’s victory in no time.
Just as Qin Xiaoyi defeated his opponent and turned to look in their direction, Liu Ziyi and Qin Xiaoyi exchanged matching smiles.
Only then did he hear Qiu Zaiqi’s calm evaluation from beside him:
“Decent swordsmanship. Not hard to look at.”
“?”
The first half was fine, but what was the meaning of the second half?
Liu Ziyi turned his head to ponder the remark with a frown, taking a moment before the realization finally hit him. He suddenly understood the underlying meaning behind that “I already finished my matches, too” statement from a moment ago.
“You…”
Liu Ziyi felt a bit doubtful. This guy shouldn’t be petty enough to do something that childish, right?
Could it be because he hadn’t cared enough to watch his matches as an opponent that the guy got ticked off?
Qiu Zaiqi met Liu Ziyi’s gaze, apparently reading the expression in those eyes. Meeting his look for a brief second before turning his face away, he offered his profile, half-obscured by white gauze, to the air:
“Underestimating your opponent will be the first lesson you suffer from in the future.”
So it really was intentional?!
Liu Ziyi was just about to open his mouth in rebuttal when Shen Zhuoqing, who had been silently trailing behind him all this time, unassumingly squeezed into the space beside Liu Ziyi, wedging himself right between the two of them.
Donning the cold, impartial smile he reserved for official sect business, Shen Zhuoqing remarked: “Not everyone grows up by learning lessons the hard way. Our Xiao Liu is exceptionally clever.”
“…”
Senior Brother, please don’t talk anymore. I can feel a cold draft down my spine.