There are two ways to become a deity: one is to be born as a deity’s descendant, exceedingly rare, and the other is to be born bearing a mandate from heaven, marked from birth with the seal of ascension.
Clearly, Yu Yu belonged to the second kind. From the time he was a mortal, he knew with absolute clarity what his future held: to await the right moment to ascend and become one of those celestial immortals whom all envy.
At his birth, the heavens displayed strange omens. The sky, clear and white with clouds, suddenly erupted with thunder and lightning, turning day into night, an inauspicious sign at first. But in the blink of an eye, a brilliant radiance burst forth, followed by a rainbow after the rain. When such events occur in the mortal realm, they are inevitably adorned with the symbolism of auspicious fortune.
And so, like the opening of most tales, Yu Yu was cradled in adoration from infancy. He was dressed in the finest silks, fed the rarest delicacies, and tutored by the most accomplished masters, who imparted to him the noblest of learning.
Yu Yu lived up to expectations, skilled in both letters and martial arts.
He became a celebrated young prodigy, and upon reaching adulthood, was summoned by the emperor and appointed as a palace attendant, basking in unprecedented glory.
But the man himself had had enough. In the winter of his third year in office, he resigned from his post before the sovereign.
“You need not persuade me. My bond with His Majesty as lord and subject has run its course. Do your utmost to serve him well from here on.” As he departed, Yu Yu showed not a trace of attachment to wealth and honor, brushing past the court officials who blocked his path.
They took him for a young man acting on impulse, but they could never understand that the gifts of fate are never free. You think you’ve stumbled upon a tremendous bargain, but in truth, you’ve also lost the very thing you wanted most.
Leaving the palace, Yu Yu drove his carriage toward the outskirts of the city. It was early winter, and the gray sky showed no sign of snow. He took a superior room at an inn outside the city walls, intending to rest for a while.
He had just entered the room, shed his heavy cloak, and sat down for a cup of tea when a flying dart shot through the window, bursting the casement wide open. A chill wind swept in. Yu Yu dodged in a flash, grabbing the sword by the table, but before he could even draw it, the menacing footsteps outside came to an abrupt halt.
The next moment, the door moved, and his blade was out.
So when the figure stepped through the door, a long sword was already pressed against his throat. Before he could make another move, Yu Yu demanded, “Who are you?”
“I’m here to save you,” the man said.
Yu Yu let out a light laugh, unconvinced. “Prove it.”
The man wore a mask, revealing only a pair of warm, gentle lips, his features hidden. At Yu Yu’s words, he unclasped a jade pendant from his waist and tossed it over.
“Take a look, young sir. I am a disciple of the Cenxi Sect, sent specifically to find you.”
Yu Yu caught it and weighed it in his hand, the sword still hovering steadily at the masked man’s throat. He turned it over and over, examining it several times, found nothing remarkable, and tossed it back, feigning ignorance: “How do I know you’re not deceiving me?”
The masked man caught the pendant, said nothing, and snapped his fingers. Right before Yu Yu’s eyes, an identical pendant materialized.
“Whether you’re willing or not, young sir, the choice is yours.”
Yu Yu raised an eyebrow, hooked the pendant with his sword, and let it land steadily in his palm.
The Cenxi Sect, the one on Kuangyu Mountain.
He was there too.
Yu Yu sheathed his sword with a clean motion, discarding his earlier rudeness. “I couldn’t ask for more.”
The masked man accepted Yu Yu without hesitation, a satisfied smile curling at his lips. “The master will like you, an interesting disciple.”
With that, he handed over a talisman, instructing Yu Yu to hold it tightly. He immediately began chanting, and with a blinding flash of white light, they found themselves standing before a mountain gate.
Before his eyes could adjust to the brightness, a faint chill landed on Yu Yu’s face first.
Was it snowing outside?
Yu Yu opened his eyes, and amidst the flurry of white snow, a streak of glaring purple was impossible to ignore.
Glancing to the side, he noticed a large stone standing outside the mountain gate, inscribed with the words “Cenxi Sect.” Beside the stone stood a young man in purple robes.
In the swirling snow, he showed no fear of the cold, no cloak, no hat, not even bothering to hold an umbrella. Only when he sensed someone’s arrival did he lazily lift his head for a glance.
The snow blurred his vision, and Yu Yu could feel the scrutinizing gaze, but he couldn’t quite make out the man’s eyes.
The masked man greeted the young man, then added with concern, “Junior Brother Cheng Xi, since the matter of the evil spirits at the foot of the mountain is settled, it’s best to head up the mountain soon. The snow is falling heavier.”
Cheng Xi, he had changed his name.
Yu Yu thought to himself, Good.
The Ninth Prince Xie Xin was dead; what remained was Cheng Xi of Kuangyu Mountain.
Cheng Xi didn’t respond, his gaze roaming over Yu Yu’s face. Just as the silence threatened to become awkward, he spoke slowly, “A new junior brother?”
Yu Yu showed no intention of speaking, his eyes fixed on a certain spot on Cheng Xi’s belt. Cheng Xi’s left hand rested on his waist, idly rubbing a small pearl on the belt. It was Shang Nan who picked up the thread: “That’s right.”
At that, Cheng Xi let out a breathy laugh, his flat tone failing to mask the bite in his words: “Him? Worthy?”
No aggression, no fury, just a lukewarm, almost emotionless “Him? Worthy?”
Then, without sparing another glance, Cheng Xi kept his arms crossed, radiating that same arrogant, piercing demeanor.
Yu Yu slowly lowered his hand, gazing at Cheng Xi’s familiar face. Then, deliberately matching his rudeness, he said, “It’s not like you’re taking on disciples. What’s it to you?”
Before Cheng Xi could respond, Senior Brother Shang quietly tugged at Yu Yu, aware of their history, and smiled at Cheng Xi. “The master’s wishes.” His words hinted for Cheng Xi not to pry, and he gestured for Yu Yu to follow him into the mountain.
But as they brushed past each other, Cheng Xi spoke again, trying to drive Yu Yu away: “Kuangyu Mountain is full of prodigies. Why would we need him? Send him off.”
Knowing it was all an act, Yu Yu’s heart still stung from the venomous words. Facing the current Cheng Xi, he had forgotten how to stay calm.
No one responded to Cheng Xi. Only Shang Nan sighed. “Junior Brother, when you entered Kuangyu Mountain, the master said it himself, past matters are but passing clouds.”
Hearing this, Cheng Xi’s gaze turned cold, then quickly returned to normal. He tossed them a parting line: “Fine then. Shanyi Courtyard still has an empty room. Have him stay there.”
With that, he ignored them entirely, braving the wind and snow as he strode past them up the mountain.
Shang Nan understood this was meant to grind Yu Yu down, but no one would intervene, as long as no one died, not even the master would. Shang Nan glanced at Yu Yu, but there was nothing he could do to help.
Cheng Xi was, after all, the master’s most beloved disciple.
“Let’s go.” Shang Nan spoke, leading Yu Yu past the mountain rock and stepping into Kuangyu Mountain.
The moment they entered, a gentle breeze swept toward them, carrying wisps of fine snow that brushed against Yu Yu’s face like kisses upon his cool, delicate features. The white snow that landed on his eyelashes fluttered away with two blinks, revealing the striking brightness of his phoenix eyes.