Chapter 69

During the three months that Wen Liuhe was confined to Reflection Cliff, Question Sword Peak suddenly grew quiet. No one knew why, but it felt empty and forlorn even though it was just one less person, no different from ten years ago.

When Wen Liuhe was around, the entire Question Sword Peak was noisy. All sorts of cursing and complaining broke through the peak’s centuries-old silence, letting in a flood of clamor through that tiny gap.

Reflection Cliff sat at the peak of Changliu Snow Mountain. Fog and snow drifted year-round at the summit, where the harsh cold covered rocks and trees in thick layers of mountain snow. Gusts of cold wind blew through but could not disperse the heavy snow.

On the day the three-month term ended, Shen Yu held an umbrella and slowly made his way up the snowy path.

Silence surrounded him. His breath turned to ice, snowflakes fell with a soft rustle, icicles snapped and crashed to the ground. The piercing chill seeped through his clothes, making him shiver.

The immortal ascending the steps noticed the intense cold and paled slightly. He pressed his lips together and continued toward the summit.

On one side of Snow Peak’s summit, a concave cliff recessed into the wall was blocked by a rune array.

An icy cliff wall loomed behind him, while a sheer drop yawned ahead.

When the mountain winds howled, they whipped up snowflakes across a hundred li, blurring all vision as the cold drilled straight into his lungs.

Wen Liuhe’s lips trembled, his blood felt frozen solid. Just as he began to wonder if he might freeze to death, a small, unformed fox demon suddenly tumbled down from the peak above.

This fox demon had not yet taken form. It fed on snow, its demonic aura faint. Hidden in Taichu Snow Peak, it had gone undetected.

In the darkness, Wen Liuhe hugged his arms and curled into a ball, brows furrowed tightly. He eyed its taut flesh and soft, dense snow-white fur, tempted to wait for it to grow a bit more before skinning it to survive the long three months.

Besides, this snow fox was a demon. No one would blame him for killing it.

The snow fox was sentient. Its ears twitched as it scanned its surroundings, only to have a hand shoot out from the darkness and seize its limbs, dragging it into the shadows.

Man and fox were trapped together, unable to enter or leave.

The snow fox’s ears shot up in alarm. It struggled fiercely but to no avail. It looked toward the youth in the darkness, who resembled a caged beast, then tried relaxing its stiff limbs. It curled its fluffy body beside him and lifted a pair of clear, bright eyes to gaze at him tentatively.

Wen Liuhe froze.

Both because of the snow fox’s sudden show of affection and because those eyes so closely resembled someone else’s.

Wen Liuhe’s grip loosened, and he subconsciously released the snow fox’s limbs.

The snow fox stuck out its tongue to lick its damp fur, buried its fluffy head like a ball of yarn, let its ears droop, and slowly climbed onto his leg with its front paws. Then it curled up in his chilled embrace, dispelling the cold from his body.

Wen Liuhe’s movements stiffened. He leaned rigidly against the icy cliff wall, unsure how things had inexplicably developed this way.

But in the end, it benefited him.

Once he figured it out, Wen Liuhe blinked, raised his arm, and placed his palm on the snow fox’s head.

The little fox rubbed against his palm and then stilled.

Wen Liuhe lowered his gaze. Though it was an untransformed demon beast, ignorant from birth, it knew to appease those it feared. Unlike people—if they feared him, they gathered in crowds, wielding baseless slogans and charges to satisfy their selfish desires.

With that thought, Wen Liuhe slipped his hand to the snow fox’s belly, where it breathed. He felt a burst of warmth. Touched at its soft, sensitive spot, the snow fox’s ears quivered, but it dared not move.

And so, the three months passed.

After a heavy snowfall, the world was blanketed in white. The pine scent, moistened by melted snow, grew even richer.

The array on Reflection Cliff began to loosen after three months.

The snow fox must have fallen in when the array was still unstable. Now that it weakened, the fox seized the chance and darted out of Reflection Cliff.

When Wen Liuhe woke, that familiar source of warmth had vanished. He reached out and touched only empty, cold air. His sharp brows furrowed instantly.

He had even decided against skinning it, but this sentient little beast was only half-sentient after all. It sure ran fast.

The snow fox bounded down Snow Peak on all fours. At a stretch of steps buried deep in snow, it ran straight into the white-clad immortal ascending with an umbrella.

The immortal lowered his gaze to it.

The fox’s eyes dimmed instantly. Its limbs went limp, and it dissolved into flecks of snow light that scattered into the immortal’s pale, slender fingers.

Snowflakes drifted onto the plain white umbrella, blending seamlessly with it. Shen Yu withdrew his avatar and caught a fragment of its memory. His steps paused. This wretched disciple—where exactly had he been groping?

Whatever. It was just a strand of his avatar split off out of worry that Wen Liuhe might freeze to death. There was no shared sensation or emotion. Shen Yu continued onward in his cloud boots toward Reflection Cliff.

Once the array shattered, Wen Liuhe flew out on his broken sword and stored it in his body.

The long snow stairs connected the clouds to the mortal world. The weather had warmed slightly, and the snow-covered peak’s outline flickered amid sunlight and mist. Wen Liuhe spotted Shen Yu from afar.

White robes and black hair stood out against the snow mountain.

The moment he saw the approaching figure, Wen Liuhe’s brows furrowed. The distance closed quickly.

Wen Liuhe walked past with a cold face, brushing Shen Yu’s shoulder to head down, only for a hand to grab his wrist. He frowned and looked over.

Shen Yu’s eyelids drooped low. Raised on the righteous path from childhood, he had reflected on this over the three months: should one judge by actions or by intent?

Wen Liuhe had harbored killing intent but hadn’t actually harmed anyone. Three months of confinement was harsh from his perspective—truly unjust. But without severe punishment, how could that killing heart be quelled?

Older and his master, Shen Yu knew resentment must fester in the boy. He spoke first, his voice carrying a faint laugh. “Three months apart, and you’ve already forgotten your master?”

A few white snowflakes clung to his thick, dark lashes like a twig laden with snow. When Shen Yu lowered his eyes, they fluttered down.

Wen Liuhe fumed at the sight. His brows locked tight as he jerked his hand away—but failed.

Wen Liuhe: “…”

Shen Yu’s lips curved, but mindful of his disciple’s pride, he held back his laugh. He brushed the snow from Wen Liuhe’s shoulder, tilted the umbrella to shelter them both, and tugged him downward.

Wen Liuhe let himself be pulled along, lips pursed, silent and still.

Had this punishment turned him into a tight-lipped gourd?

Shen Yu couldn’t hold back. He smacked the back of Wen Liuhe’s head hard. Wen Liuhe bared his teeth in pain, eyes bulging with rage as he glared at Shen Yu and snarled, “Why’d you hit me?!”

“Can’t hit you?” Shen Yu switched to ruffling, patting his head with a smile. “Quit acting up. Your master doesn’t buy that. Come on—I’m here to take you home, aren’t I?”

Wen Liuhe pressed his lips together, still silent.

Shen Yu tugged him again before he finally deigned to move, brow heavy as he trailed behind Shen Yu in silence down the snow mountain.

After returning from Reflection Cliff, Wen Liuhe stayed unusually quiet. But quiet didn’t mean he let it go.

Knowing he couldn’t beat Shen Yu, he sought other outlets. He started wrecking Shen Yu’s cherished flowers, plants, and immortal cranes. The commotion was considerable—the spirit beasts of Question Sword Peak scattered like refugees, some even fleeing to other peaks.

Shen Yu knew he was angry. Seeing no major damage, he turned a blind eye.

Even in these acts of revenge, Wen Liuhe remained eerily silent, no longer muttering to the flowers, plants, or animals as before.

The sudden quiet took some getting used to.

In the golden glow of the immortal pool, the immortal cranes enjoyed rare peace today, undisturbed as they preened their tail feathers. Their round, deep brown eyes absorbed the pool’s light, reflecting the two figures chatting in the octagonal pavilion.

“Sword Trial Assembly?”

Shen Yu propped his chin with one hand and held a wine pot with the other. His white robes draped like scattered petals across the stone table.

Perhaps due to the wine, he lifted his eyelids slightly, eyes brimming with an intoxicating smile as he looked at Gu Changqing across from him. He continued, “You plan to have my little nephew join?”

Gu Changqing sipped his tea and smiled. “He’s not little anymore. He’s about the same height as Liuhe now.”

Shen Yu arched a brow faintly. Gu Changqing favored secluded cultivation. Shen Yu had only seen Xu Buchan once, ten years ago. The ethereal, delicately carved child had stood beside Wen Siyuan, a stark contrast to Wen Liuhe’s roguish demeanor.

Shen Yu remembered that when he descended from the sky, the boy had lifted his head and given him a gentle glance.

Proper, dignified, and composed.

He would surely be far less troublesome to teach.

Gu Changqing noted the subtle shift in his expression and sighed inwardly. He had only recently learned that his junior brother had confined his disciple.

Wen Liuhe had indeed been wrong to toy with Qi Feibai in front of everyone, but this punishment seemed overly harsh.

Intent on easing tensions between them, Gu Changqing spoke up. “The Sword Trial Assembly comes once every twenty years. It’s a prime chance for learning and real combat. Are you really not letting Liuhe go?”

Shen Yu held his silver wine vessel, his sleeve slipping to reveal a stretch of pale wrist.

He shook the vessel and chuckled. “With his temperament, if I don’t mention it, he might sneak off on his own. But if I bring it up, he’ll definitely refuse.”

Hearing the complaining tone, Gu Changqing couldn’t help but chuckle.

A green paper crane for messages pierced the clouds, flapping its wings as it flew in from afar and alighted before them.

Shen Yu wagged a finger with a smile and received the crane’s message.

His smile froze upon hearing it.

Gu Changqing saw him restrain his mirth and straighten slightly. “What is it?”

Shen Yu: “Liuhe was taken to Judgment Hall by the Medicine Venerable.”

Gu Changqing set down his teacup, brows knitting. “Judgment Hall?! Isn’t that for disciples who’ve committed grave offenses?”

“They say the Medicine Field was destroyed. He’s undergoing public punishment.”

Shen Yu rubbed his temple, an ominous premonition rising. No wonder he hadn’t seen Wen Liuhe all day.

“Let’s go see.”

Gu Changqing summoned a flying boat, and they headed to Taichu Main Peak.