Fu Jinyue sent back a message: [Come over.]
She was in a foul mood, and her tone reflected it. The moment the message left her hand, she felt a pang of regret, worried that she might have scared off her only source of free labor.
Yet, to her surprise, that scoundrel actually came trudging back.
When Fu Jinyue spotted him, he was peeking out from behind a stone wall, poking his head around to scout the area.
His timid demeanor bore absolutely no resemblance to a Golden Core cultivator who had achieved some measure of success.
What a waste of such a handsome face.
Recalling her previous heartbeat, Fu Jinyue began to wonder if she had been starved for too long, causing her tastes to change so drastically that she was now succumbing to desperation.
Before her hand could even land on his shoulder, Cui Lecheng had already spun around.
The alertness expected of a Golden Core cultivator was still intact.
Upon realizing it was Fu Jinyue, his wary expression dissolved. Cui Lecheng opened his mouth and said, “I didn’t expect you to still be alive.”
He certainly knew how to talk.
Fu Jinyue suddenly smiled. “Why don’t you accompany me up to the Sword Sect?”
Cui Lecheng was thoroughly startled by these words. “Don’t! I was wrong, alright?!”
He took several steps back and tossed a small wooden box toward her. Fu Jinyue raised her hand to catch it. Opening the box, she found a pair of crescent-shaped earrings crafted of gold and silver.
The style was not overly ostentatious; the ends were set with two pieces of red turquoise, adorned with subtle indigo kingfisher feather inlay.
Cui Lecheng explained, “There. The storage pouch and the protective robe you wanted.”
Fu Jinyue lifted the earrings, watching the red turquoise sway. They were exceptionally beautiful. She liked the design, but that didn’t stop her from questioning their practicality.
“They’re this small?” Fu Jinyue asked.
Cui Lecheng looked displeased. “These are dharma treasures that could fetch tens of thousands of spiritual stones at an auction house. They provide protective warding and are vastly superior to that little sachet at your waist.”
Fu Jinyue tentatively extended her spiritual energy into them. Her field of vision suddenly expanded as if she had gained a third eye; she glimpsed the vast space within the bag, which was startlingly immense.
The corners of her mouth curved upward. Excellent quality.
Fu Jinyue held them up to gauge the size, but without a mirror, it was rather difficult to put the earrings on. Thus, she crooked her finger at Cui Lecheng once more. “Come here.”
Cui Lecheng moved forward a step at a time. “What for?”
Fu Jinyue smiled. “Since you’re the one giving the gift, shouldn’t you be the one to put them on me?”
Cui Lecheng let out a bewildered “Ah,” and once he processed her words, he offered a dry chuckle. “This… is probably inappropriate. I fear True Monarch Yun might draw his sword to slice me to pieces. How could a mere rogue cultivator like myself withstand such profound affection?”
Fu Jinyue looked at him. “What is our relationship?”
“Adversaries?” Cui Lecheng blurted out. Seeing Fu Jinyue arch an eyebrow, he quickly adjusted his expression and stated solemnly, “Creditor and debtor.”
It was a very accurate description, yet Fu Jinyue said, “Are we not friends?”
Friends?
The only expression left on Cui Lecheng’s face was a strained smile.
He never put on the airs of a high-ranking cultivator in front of her—perhaps he behaved this way before everyone.
Since they were friends, it was only natural for friends to help each other out.
Thus, Fu Jinyue watched as he shuffled over. She tossed the earrings back into his hand, tilting her head slightly and casting a sidelong glance to signal him to begin.
Cui Lecheng picked up the tiny earrings and tiptoed around to put them on her.
Thanks to the one-to-one bodily replication provided by the system, even her pierced ears had not been forgotten. An artifact-refining cultivator’s hands ought to be remarkably nimble, yet he fumbled through the process, his fingertips occasionally brushing against her white jade-like, tender earlobes.
He could catch the crisp, clean scent wafting from her.
His breath fanned against her ear, inducing a faint itch.
Having just had a row with someone, Fu Jinyue was already in a foul mood and lacked patience. Fortunately, right before her patience dissolved completely, Cui Lecheng managed to secure both earrings just in time.
The silver hooks hung from her earlobes, their long silver threads adorned with indigo kingfisher feathers, while the tear-shaped red turquoise at the ends swayed with her every movement. Indigo and crimson—a combination that was normally difficult to pull off—somehow suited her perfectly.
He had known it would suit her.
Cui Lecheng suddenly turned his head away and grumbled, “There, there. These things are terribly difficult to put on.”
Fu Jinyue turned her head side to side, feeling the slight tug on her earlobes, and her mood instantly improved. She didn’t ask if they looked good, for they bound to be beautiful.
Thus, she said to Cui Lecheng with a beaming smile, “Thank you for your hard work. Now, I must trouble Senior Cui to escort me up to the Sword Sect.”
Cui Lecheng hadn’t expected her to still refuse to let him off. His eyes widened, and he shot her an accusatory look.
Fu Jinyue, however, was wondering whether that True Monarch who had flown off in a rage had returned to the bamboo courtyard.
She estimated he hadn’t. The argument had broken out so abruptly, and only after her emotions settled did she discern several peculiarities.
Strange.
Where exactly was the anomaly?
In the end, Cui Lecheng complied.
Compared to their first time flying together on a sword, the experience ascending the celestial mountain this time was vastly superior.
Noticing that he had cast a wind-breaking barrier over her before they even took off, Fu Jinyue remarked amusedly, “Thinking back to the first time, I was practically choking on the wind the entire way.”
Back then, she had to deliberately display weakness before this man would bother to cast a spell for her.
And now?
He did it without even being asked.
Cui Lecheng smiled wryly. “My young miss, times have changed.”
He retrieved his sword from his storage pouch, and Fu Jinyue leaned forward to inspect it.
Fu Jinyue asked curiously, “As an artifact cultivator, do you truly not possess a single specialized flying treasure?”
Cui Lecheng shot her a sorrowful look but remained silent.
At that moment, Fu Jinyue suddenly remembered their very first meeting, when this fellow had plummeted from the sky and crashed, creating a massive crater with metallic components exploding all over the place. That Golden Core cultivator had remained unconscious for a considerable time before waking up. Upon waking, he had wailed loudly—all thunder and no rain—howling for ages without shedding a single tear.
Recalling this, Fu Jinyue’s immediate thought was: The treasures this man gave me won’t blow up later, will they?
Cui Lecheng seemed to divine her thoughts and snapped irritably, “That day was merely an anomaly.”
He then muttered under his breath about improper furnace temperatures, poor timing, and complications during the smelting process.
Cui Lecheng assumed his stance, and the sword rose smoothly from the ground. Fu Jinyue leapt upon it in stride. Cui Lecheng stood with his fingers extended in a spell gesture, and the sword soared high into the sky, charting a course toward the Sword Sect.
The higher they climbed, the more clearly the sheer scale of the Sword Sect came into view.
The mountain ranges were continuous and precipitous, with small paths winding like snakes beneath the dense canopy, twisting around the mountain bodies as they converged toward the celestial peak where the Sword Sect resided. The hidden regions above were shrouded in a dense, billowing mist.
Beneath the main gates of the Sword Sect, the stone steps were crowded with mortals crawling upward. Only a select few had achieved enlightenment and possessed a basic Qi Condensation cultivation.
Seeing Fu Jinyue observing with curiosity, Cui Lecheng glanced down nonchalantly. “The news of the grand feast’s postponement has already spread. The cultivators who ought to have arrived came early, and those who shouldn’t won’t bother coming. The people you see now are all here to join the sect. Calculating the dates, it should be around the time for the Sword Sect’s disciple selection.”
He remarked with emotion, “The Sword Sect has a massive foundation. Every time they open the sect for the grand selection of disciples, countless individuals travel tens of thousands of miles to pay respects to the sect.”
“Do that many people truly wish to learn the sword?” Fu Jinyue didn’t quite understand.
Cui Lecheng laughed. “Their true motives lie elsewhere. The Sword Sect’s selection process is remarkably generous; they turn no one away and usher everyone into the courtyards to reside. Once the auspicious day arrives, they bring everyone out to be tested one by one before several spiritual testing stones. Those who are suitable remain, while those who are not are asked to leave. Such a wealthy and influential sect—the sheer expenses incurred during these few days are enough to make one tongue-tied.”
He brought the sword to a halt beneath the stone steps, gazing toward the mountain gates above. “Little Friend Fu, I will leave you here.”
Cui Lecheng’s gaze drifted to the person before him, and he offered a timid smile. “I still owe you one dharma treasure; I shall deliver it to you when we next meet.”
Fu Jinyue waved farewell casually. “Remember, there is also the forty percent revenue share.”
She saw Cui Lecheng off and began to retrace her steps up the stairway to heaven.
For mortals, walking these stone steps was an even more arduous task. Fu Jinyue navigated past the edges of the crowd. Walking the entire way, passing others and being passed in turn, she unexpectedly failed to spot the youth from the mountain cave.
Perhaps he hadn’t arrived yet? Or perhaps he had met with danger and perished on the road?
Fu Jinyue didn’t care much either way; her mind was still occupied with that insufferable Yun Heyin.
The anger from their argument had already dissipated on its own, turned over like a spent page. As Fu Jinyue reviewed the memories page by page, she finally pinpointed the crucial element.
Suddenly, illumination struck her.
It turned out the fish had taken the bait and was ready to be dropped into the pot. Nothing could be more exhilarating than this.
A man who had appeared so thoroughly aloof during their first meeting was now actually capable of flying into a rage on her account.
No. Fu Jinyue recalled the details carefully and thought to herself: That was clearly jealousy.
The superior reduced to humility, the ascetic falling into indulgence, the flower of the high peaks descending from its pedestal—how beautiful, how exquisite. Why did she never grow weary of these plays?
Having rationalized it all, Fu Jinyue began to envision various possibilities in her mind, contemplating how she would draw in the net. She calculated calmly and meticulously, like a blade hovering above a fish, discerning exactly where to strike to strip away its scales.
Engrossed in her thoughts, Fu Jinyue climbed onto the final step out of habit when she suddenly felt an intense, burning gaze piercing her back.
She halted her steps and turned her head to look down the long path behind her.
Upon the countless steps, the crowd walked, stood, crawled, or lay down. Beneath the blazing sun, they were entirely filled with exhaustion. Everyone was occupied with their own journey, and nothing appeared out of the ordinary.
Yet, Fu Jinyue stared intently for a long moment.
She did not believe it was an illusion.
The sun beat down scorchingly, a sensation Xi Chuan had long grown accustomed to.
“What are you looking at, Brother Xi?”
His traveling companion leaned on a walking stick, panting for breath. The stick was a thick tree branch randomly gathered from the forest, sturdy enough to serve as the support that had carried him across the endless stone steps.
The stairway to heaven was entirely too long and punishing. One couldn’t tell if it was due to the unique nature of the immortal sect or an illusion born of excessive exertion, but each step felt more agonizing than the last.
Pei Jue’s breathing was erratic, yet noticing that the man beside him was only slightly winded and gazing upward in a daze, he asked in confusion, “Brother Xi?”
Only then did Xi Chuan retract his gaze.
“It is nothing,” he said. “I merely spotted an old acquaintance.”
Pei Jue failed to comprehend his meaning. “A fellow villager of yours, Brother Xi? Oh, what a coincidence. If we both manage to enter the sect, we can march forward hand in hand.”
The moment the words fell, Pei Jue noticed Xi Chuan offer a slight smile. This smile was clearly meant only out of politeness, for Pei Jue could still discern the tension gripping his face.
Xi Chuan was an upright, steady man, possessing an unyielding countenance and an honest demeanor. Though he did not speak often, whenever he did, his words went straight to the point, never beating around the bush. He carried the distinct aura of a thoroughly loyal and righteous individual.
This was precisely the reason Pei Jue had resolved to journey alongside him.
When racing toward the path of immortality, a reliable companion could avert a great deal of trouble. And once one entered the immortal path, having an upright fellow disciple as a friend was an even more invaluable asset.
Pei Jue grew somewhat concerned that Xi Chuan’s old acquaintance might not be easy to deal with, so he asked probingly, “Brother Xi, do you wish to catch up and journey with your old acquaintance?”
Xi Chuan, however, shook his head.
He observed his companion, noting that Pei Jue was drenched in sweat, his garments completely soaked, and the hair at his temples clung damply to his cheeks. Such a wretched state meant that merely looking at him suggested an unpleasant odor.
He himself was undoubtedly in an equally wretched state.
Since he was in such a condition, what need was there to rush into a meeting?
Since she was here, and since she was still present, there would always be an opportunity.
Yet… was there truly any opportunity left?
As Xi Chuan pondered this deeply, a wave of suffocating tightness pressed against his chest once more.
What did a single night of intimacy truly amount to?
Xi Chuan saw it with absolute clarity: the young girl had no intention of prolonging that ambiguous encounter. Furthermore, she had already explained the reasons clearly beforehand—it had been initiated solely to save his life.
Every object has its root and its branches, and every affair has its beginning and its end. The two of them were already entirely square.
Beneath the blazing sun, the sweat from Xi Chuan’s temples dripped down. His garments were damp and clung to his body, causing immense discomfort. He endured this irritation in utter silence, feeling as though the heart beneath his chest was also tightly wrapped in a damp, stifling garment—moist, humid, and unable to draw a proper breath.
Xi Chuan silently stepped onto the final tier, ascending the very stone step the girl had previously trodden upon, as though she were still here, standing right beside him.
Every object has its root and branches, and every affair has its beginning and end; they were already square.
Yet…
He did not wish to separate them so clearly.