Chapter 27: The Xili Mountains Part 1

The phoenix suddenly opens its golden eyes.

The wind seemed to howl endlessly in his ears.

Fu Yuqiu felt as if he were trapped in a nightmare so long he might never wake, his body weightless, falling into a bottomless pit, the wind threatening to tear every feather from his body.

Whether from the air being too thin, or from breaking through the barrier of the small world around the Nine Heavens having drained his Spiritual Power, Fu Yuqiu could even feel the warmth of his body fading away bit by bit.

The lower he fell, the colder he became. In a daze, Fu Yuqiu flapped his little wings a couple of times, but it did nothing — he only fell faster.

Am I going to die again? Fu Yuqiu thought blearily.

Somehow, a boundless desolation and despair welled up in him. He didn’t even want to struggle anymore, keeping his eyes closed and letting himself fall deeper, his body icing over as the cold slowly crept from his wings toward his heart.

The wind had roared into his ears so long they were numb, and even sound was fading.

Just as Fu Yuqiu thought he would lose consciousness like this, his ears — as if sealed behind some barrier — suddenly caught the cry of a phoenix.

The cry was clear and piercing, cutting through the thick clouds and pouring into Fu Yuqiu’s ears.

Fu Yuqiu’s eyes snapped open.

His vision blurred; all around was a screen of cloud-mist blotting out the sky.

At the edge of his sight, a five-colored phoenix beat its magnificent plumage through the air, flying swiftly toward him.

Fu Yuqiu’s pupils drifted out of focus.

The Phoenix…

The resigned despair in his heart vanished all at once, replaced by a chest full of grievance.

—Like grasping a lifeline at the moment of breaking.

Fu Yuqiu thought he joyfully called out, “Phoenix!” — but the gale whipped his own voice away before he could hear it.

In the instant before he lost consciousness, the Phoenix was already before him, golden eyes blazing, gentle as candlelight in a night of freezing dark.

Only then did Fu Yuqiu let himself sink, relieved, into the dark.

The Lower Realm.

A Vermilion Crane flew over the ruins of the Heaven-Listening Tower as golden sunlight poured down, setting its magnificent plumage aglow.

Feng Beihe flew to the Vermilion Crane Clan, assumed human form, and stepped, expressionless in his black robes, into the entrance wreathed in five-colored flowing cloud.

The guard, seeing Feng Beihe, had his eyes flicker in surprise and bowed respectfully.

“This one greets the Junior Venerable.”

Feng Beihe’s figure was like a drawn sword, his hem sweeping across the flowers and grass at either side.

The blooming clusters, as if struck by an icy wind, suddenly frosted over with a layer of white.

One gust, and they shattered across the ground.

Seeing this scene, the guard was long past being surprised. He even curled his lips and mouthed something to his companion.

“Little monster.”

Because of Feng Beihe’s demolition of the Heaven-Listening Tower, the elders of the entire Vermilion Crane Clan had gathered — some seething with indignation, some sighing in despair.

A woman in sumptuous robes sat in the seat of honor, brow furrowed, her features bearing some resemblance to Feng Beihe’s.

Feng Beihe walked in without expression, swept the room with a cold gaze, and said, “What is it?”

The instant he entered, the endlessly quarreling hall fell silent for a breath.

Everyone exchanged glances.

Since the Heaven-Listening Tower had collapsed, the Vermilion Crane Clan had borne the Lower Realm’s condemnation and curses.

The elders were sick with worry, shouting that Feng Beihe had made this mess and he could jolly well clean it up himself!

But Feng Beihe’s status was no longer what it had been, back when they could summon and dismiss him at will — all they could do was rage impotently.

They had never imagined that Feng Beihe, who almost never returned to Mid-Cloud Ridge, would actually come.

The hall was silent.

The Vermilion Crane Clan elder nearest to him was white-haired, clearly having lived many long years, his face full of a world-weary steadiness. Leaning on a cane carved with Vermilion Crane patterns, he began in a mild tone, “Beihe, my boy.”

Feng Beihe’s brow furrowed, his face full of disgust.

The white-haired elder hastily amended, “Junior Venerable. The destruction of the Heaven-Listening Tower — was it truly by the Venerable One’s command?”

“If you don’t believe it, go to the Nine Heavens and ask,” Feng Beihe said coldly.

Publicly rebuffed, the elder still held his patience. “The Venerable One is not one to stand idle before calamities in the Lower Realm. Could there be some misunderstanding?”

At that moment, the woman in the seat of honor finally spoke, cold.

“Since the Immortal Venerable gave the order, why did you not proclaim it to all — why let every shred of hatred fall upon the Vermilion Crane Clan?”

Feng Beihe’s body went rigid. He said in a low voice, “Mother.”

“I dare not be called ‘Mother’ by the Junior Venerable. You flatter me.”

The Vermilion Crane Clan Master’s presence was stern and cutting, and as she looked coldly at Feng Beihe there was not a trace of warmth in her. “Feng Beihe. Did you do it on purpose?”

Feng Beihe — ever cold and imperious, seemingly unmoved by anything — suddenly clenched the hand hanging at his side, nails carving several bloody welts into his palm.

The Vermilion Crane Clan’s surname was “Yun,” but ever since becoming Junior Venerable, Feng Beihe had been granted the surname “Feng” by the Immortal Venerable.

Feng Beihe had always felt it made no difference what he was called — until the Vermilion Crane Clan Master spoke those three syllables, and it was like a knife driven into his heart.

He closed his eyes briefly and drew a silent breath.

When he opened them again, the almost-despairing fragility of a moment ago had vanished.

He unclenched his fist, swept the assembly with a cold look, and said flatly, “If you don’t want the Blazing Fire Rain falling on Mid-Cloud Ridge, then keep your mouths shut about this.”

With that, he turned to leave.

The Vermilion Crane Clan Master’s voice cracked like a whip. “Feng Beihe!”

Feng Beihe whipped his head around, and the pressure of the Phoenix Golden Plume he had absorbed swept out in an overwhelming tide.

He had only ever cultivated with the Phoenix Golden Plume, and yet that pressure alone made every heart present feel as if plunged into an ice cellar, trembling — even those of lesser cultivation couldn’t hold their original forms and transformed on the spot.

The Vermilion Crane Clan Master’s pupils contracted violently as she stared at him in shock.

Feng Beihe looked at her without a trace of feeling and said coldly, “If you all insist I’m a monster, then don’t reap my benefits while looking down on me and resenting me from on high.”

He turned away with indifference, his black hem snapping in the wind, leaving behind only a back that seemed like it would never fall.

The Vermilion Crane Clan’s Spiritual Power was of the fire element, but Feng Beihe had been born an out-and-out little monster. His power carried the Vermilion Crane’s aura, yet it was a “Blue Flame” that could freeze a man solid in frost.

Feng Beihe walked out of the Vermilion Crane Clan’s grounds and spread his wings, transforming into a magnificent Vermilion Crane.

A low voice suddenly spoke by his ear. “The Phoenix has descended to the Lower Realm.”

Feng Beihe’s pupils contracted.

“Why would he suddenly descend?”

“That’s irrelevant.” The voice gave an eerie chuckle. “His soul is unstable, his mind half-mad with a death wish, and he cast aside the Phoenix Inheritance like so much trash. I thought I’d have to wither away waiting years more for him to fall — and yet here he is… delivering himself to death.”

Feng Beihe gave a soft “Mm” and beat his wings into the sky.

“A phoenix’s fate is a great ill omen. He was one abandoned by the Heavenly Dao — yet he scraped by until now on some Heavenly Dao fortune from who knows where.” The voice murmured at his ear. “Steal that fortune for me, and I can seize his body.”

“I can’t act personally,” Feng Beihe said. “I have already placed the Spirit Rune for the method of reversing a phoenix’s fortune in the Profound Candle Tower in the Lower Realm. The moment he descends, within half a shichen someone will track the rune’s aura straight to the Phoenix.”

Any cultivator carrying the Spirit Rune had only to approach the Phoenix to reverse the phoenix’s fortune and channel it into Feng Beihe.

The Lower Realm had been drained by the Blazing Fire Rains, its Spiritual Power exhausted, countless Spirit Veins run dry.

A single Spirit Vein could buy the lives of countless cultivators.

Fu Yuqiu was in a place of utter darkness.

Even he didn’t know when he’d arrived here. An endless black stretched all around, with only two magnificent carved stone pillars standing on either side, like a colossal gate.

Fu Yuqiu tilted his head and tried walking forward, attempting to cross the gate.

But the moment he drew near, he was stopped by an invisible Barrier.

At the same time, a voice came from the void, carrying a hint of barely perceptible gentleness.

“What is the thing you most regret in this life?”

Regret? What regret? Fu Yuqiu thought, bewildered.

The voice said, “This is the key to passing the Boundary Gate.”

Fu Yuqiu was even more lost.

The Boundary Gate?

He had heard of it — to forcibly cross the Three Realms, one had to pay some price to pass through the Boundary Gate.

Even from the Nine Heavens to the Drifting Path required the Boundary Gate?

Stranger still, the toll of the Boundary Gate was usually the thing one treasured most, and those who passed rarely escaped with their lives — or at least lost half of them.

Why did answering “your greatest regret” count as a key?

Fu Yuqiu decided he must be dreaming, yet no matter what he couldn’t wake. He thought for a long while, then tried, “My greatest regret is saving that chirp-chirp-chirping Feng Beihe?”

“Chirp-chirp-chirp” was not a compliment, and the Boundary Gate seemed to choke for a moment.

After a good while, the gate said, “Incorrect. You do not regret saving a life.”

Fu Yuqiu curled his lip and thought. “Then I regret coming out of the Secluded Sound Valley.”

The Boundary Gate sighed. “That is also not your regret.”

Fu Yuqiu frowned. Can this door peer into my heart or something?

Seeing him go silent, as if sulking, the gate said helplessly, “Don’t you want to go to the Lower Realm?”

Fu Yuqiu said sulkily, “I do.”

The Boundary Gate, perhaps deciding he might not know his own heart, made the void twist sharply for an instant, and a thread of Spiritual Power darted straight into Fu Yuqiu’s brow.

Fu Yuqiu tipped backward — and was gently caught, falling straight down into the depths of memory.

A clumsy, ear-gratingly awful konghou sounded through a courtyard.

“You truly have no ear for music…” someone said with distaste. “Gong, Shang, Jiao, Zhi, Yu — not a single string on pitch.”