Chapter 4: Poisoned

The Cold Huai River.

Huaichen helped Yi Xuefeng back to his room. He briskly dismissed the young man, and only then allowed himself to collapse onto the couch.

The Qieyun Sword in his hand stirred of its own accord, without any Spiritual Power, floating slowly in midair. Killing intent, cold as ice, radiated from every inch of the blade.

Pain wracked Yi Xuefeng as though his meridians were being sliced open, cut by cut, with a dull knife—not a single spot spared. He forced his eyes open and glanced at the Qieyun Sword floating beside his pillow.

From within the sword came a voice impossible to place as male or female: “You are not Lin Fuyu. Who exactly are you?!”

Yi Xuefeng, face bloodless, stared at the sword for a long while before parting his pale lips.

“I’m your dad.”

The Qieyun Sword: “…”

The sword very visibly froze in midair. Only after a long moment did it speak again.

“…Dad?”

The Spiritual Power churning in Yi Xuefeng’s meridians sent cold sweat streaming down him. Paying the sword no mind, he struggled up into a cross-legged position and half-closed his eyes. “I’m about to reach Core Formation. Go outside and keep watch, you useless sword.”

The Qieyun Sword had been angrily floating about, gesturing with its own blade over how best to slit this wandering ghost’s throat. At the words “useless sword,” it was so startled that the Sword Tassel on its hilt stood straight up.

Qieyun shrieked, “Dad!”

Yi Xuefeng was so aggravated he nearly kicked it. “I disown this unfilial child of mine—go keep watch!”

The whole sword wobbled unsteadily, instinctively still trying to nuzzle against Yi Xuefeng.

But its Spirit Body sensed the Spiritual Power about to crest in Yi Xuefeng and hurriedly touched its tip to the floor, hobbling and bouncing its way to the door to keep watch, Sword Tassel swinging the whole way.

Only when Yi Xuefeng sensed the Qieyun Sword spread a veil of Spiritual Power over the entire room did he quietly let out a breath of relief.

Qieyun had been his Natal Magical Artifact from his youth at Returning Swan Mountain, following him since childhood—until his Spirit Veins were injured and he could no longer hold a sword.

Qieyun had always been a battle-hungry thing. Following him for eight hundred years, it might not get drawn from its sheath even once. In the end, Yi Xuefeng had gritted his teeth through the pain and sent it away.

He’d never imagined that by a twist of fate, Qieyun would come back into his hands.

Still as foolish as ever.

Yi Xuefeng sighed and thought no more of it, pouring all his focus into reaching Core Formation past the bottleneck of Foundation Establishment.

The Spiritual Power in Lin Fuyu’s body was remarkably pure—well, naturally. A single shoulder wound warranted rare Spirit Medicine like that; clearly this was a spendthrift raised steeped in the stuff from infancy.

The power flowing in this young master’s Spirit Veins was warm and gentle as fine rain, healing the shock-damaged veins bit by bit. Yi Xuefeng’s tightly furrowed brow finally smoothed out as he guided the power streaming through his Spirit Veins into his Dantian.

Qieyun felt its master’s power growing vaster and vaster, and went zipping in circles around the room in excitement.

After a long while, a muffled thump suddenly rang out. A wave of Spiritual Power burst from Yi Xuefeng’s body, rippling outward like a stone dropped in water. The tables, chairs, and vases in the room shattered in a crashing chorus.

Qieyun somersaulted in midair—and by the time it collected itself, Yi Xuefeng had already slowly opened his eyes.

“Dad!”

It flung itself over at once, rubbing against Yi Xuefeng’s hand without stop.

Yi Xuefeng brushed it off, and frowning, undid his dirtied outer robe and dropped it to the floor.

The wooden door was given a soft knock, and Huaichen’s trembling voice came from outside: “L-Little Immortal Lord, did something happen?”

“Come in,” said Yi Xuefeng.

Huaichen pushed the door open, took one look at the wreckage, and startled violently, staring at Yi Xuefeng in horror.

Yi Xuefeng dug a clean set of clothes out of the wardrobe and tossed them onto the Qieyun Sword, then turned to Huaichen. “Please have this cleaned up. I’m going to bathe.”

With that he turned and left, the Qieyun Sword balancing the clothes on its hilt and pattering along after him.

Huaichen assumed the Little Immortal Lord was holding a grudge over Nanzong’s mockery and had smashed things up as usual. He had barged in expecting another scolding—never imagining the young man would direct no anger at him at all, and would instead be so courteous.

His legs weak, Huaichen watched him go, stood rooted in place for a long while, and only then began dazedly tidying up.

In a spring-fed pool at the back courtyard, Yi Xuefeng stripped off his inner robe, tossed it onto the grass, and slowly lowered himself into the clear water.

Qieyun, still balancing the clothes, was buried so deeply beneath them that its blade couldn’t be seen at all—and it chattered on without a single pause.

“Dad! Dear old Dad! Weren’t you already dead? When a Devil Cultivator’s body dies, the soul is scattered and destroyed! What stroke of fortune let you be reborn into Lin Fuyu’s body?”

“Those people who ambushed you back then—every last one of them has met with a terrible end over the years. I was planning to find a chance to avenge you, but they went and got their own retribution first.”

“Serve them right! Our dad is such a well-behaved person, and they drove you to your death. They truly couldn’t tell right from wrong!”

“Dad, talk to me.”

“… “

Yi Xuefeng—well-behaved Yi Xuefeng—draped himself against the rim of the Clear Spring, combing his long hair over his shoulder, and drawled unhurriedly, “Mm.”

Qieyun was, by nature, a creature that loved liveliness. Deprived of conversation, it could chatter from dawn to dusk; and now that Yi Xuefeng had given it a response—even a single syllable—it could prattle on happily again.

Yi Xuefeng was long used to it. He covered his mouth and yawned, cutting off Qieyun’s soliloquy. “How long was I asleep?”

“A hundred years,” said Qieyun.

Yi Xuefeng: “…”

Hm. No wonder the Spirit Arts and artifacts cultivators used now were all different from before.

Yi Xuefeng asked again, “The people who surrounded and killed me back then—are they all dead?”

“I think so? Either way, you’ve missed your chance at revenge.” Qieyun drifted out onto the water’s surface, tapping the water with its tip again and again. “Dad, back in the Savage Wilds, weren’t you the one who battered the Devil Cultivators with your fists and kicked two Sovereigns with your feet? How did you fall so easily to the righteous path’s Devil-Slaying Array?”

Yi Xuefeng said, “It’s a long story.”

Qieyun said, “I’m all ears.”

Yi Xuefeng thought for a moment. “I was betrayed.”

Qieyun waited. And waited. Seeing no intention of further elaboration, it asked, puzzled, “That’s it?”

“Mm,” said Yi Xuefeng.

Qieyun: “…”

Where exactly was the ‘long’ part?

Yi Xuefeng said, “I don’t know the specifics either. But the connection point between the Savage Wilds and the outside—unless one of the Three Lords personally gave the order, no one could possibly slip in. And they barged into the Jade Reflection Hall so openly. If other Devil Cultivators weren’t involved, it would be flatly impossible.”

Qieyun asked, puzzled, “Didn’t you say you were still formidable even without me? Could you really not beat a handful of Daoist Cultivators?”

Qieyun had never once learned how to soften its words. Yi Xuefeng was knocked flat by the jab and stayed silent for a long time before saying, “No one takes you for a mute if you stay quiet.”

Assuming its master was embarrassed, Qieyun tactfully changed the subject. “Then who betrayed you? Are you going to go chop him up??”

Qieyun loved fun and battle alike. The moment it sensed the possibility of chopping someone, the entire sword perked up with excitement.

Yi Xuefeng said, “Lin Fuyu’s identity is too delicate. It’s not convenient for me to investigate right now. We’ll see in a while.”

He had meant to look into his own death from back then, but after thinking it over for a long while, he realized he had no one at all to call upon—and the identity of Lin Fuyu couldn’t exactly march openly into the Savage Wilds either. For now, it would have to wait.

Qieyun deflated with disappointment.

Yi Xuefeng had no wish to dwell on it and changed the subject. “I heard someone broke into the Cold Huai River’s Treasure Pavilion and stole a sword. Do you know who took you?”

“No idea. I just remember sleeping in some pitch-black box. The box was too small—I couldn’t even take human form in it…”

Unable to take human form meant it was an artifact bound with a talisman of Spiritual Power.

Qieyun, single-minded as it was, didn’t understand such things—but Yi Xuefeng did. So someone truly had intended to steal the Qieyun Sword. Whether that someone was Nanzong remained to be seen.

Qieyun, knowing nothing of this, went on chattering about this and that, and Yi Xuefeng couldn’t be bothered to listen.

After his bath, he rose and dressed in his inner robe. Qieyun hurried over, draping the outer robe across his shoulders.

Yi Xuefeng’s long hair was still dripping wet down his back. Gathering the robe around himself, he headed toward the front courtyard—but partway there, he suddenly asked, “Where is Ning Yu now?”

“Sword Venerable Ning?” Qieyun sounded puzzled. “No idea. I think… still at Returning Swan Mountain?”

Yi Xuefeng seemed somewhat disappointed.

Qieyun asked, “You want to see him?”

Yi Xuefeng hesitated before saying, “I want to ask him for an answer…”

Qieyun said, “He never loved you.”

Yi Xuefeng: “???”

Yi Xuefeng rubbed the space between his brows, seized by the urge to snap Qieyun in half.

Seeing its dear father’s face full of murderous rage—the kind that comes before silencing a witness—Qieyun said meekly, “Oh, that wasn’t the question? I just assumed…”

Through gritted teeth, Yi Xuefeng said, “I want to ask him whether he took part when I was trapped and killed in the Devil-Slaying Array. What on earth did Linfan teach you all these years!?”

Qieyun gave a timid “Oh,” then said, “Sword Venerable Ning may not have romantic feelings for you, but he was still your Senior Martial Brother of the same school. Surely he wouldn’t want you dead…”

Yi Xuefeng said nothing.

Qieyun knew all about Yi Xuefeng’s feelings for Ning Yu and was about to offer a few comforting words—when Yi Xuefeng stretched out his hand and said, “Come here.”

Qieyun hurried over, shrinking down to the size of a hairpin, and was held between Yi Xuefeng’s fingers as it gathered up his dripping hair.

Qieyun squirmed uncomfortably. “Dad, it’s wet.”

“Endure it,” said Yi Xuefeng.

So Qieyun held its tongue.

When they returned to the room, Huaichen had already restored the wrecked chamber to perfect order. The flower on the windowsill had been replaced with a fresh one—its blossom-core flicked out a scarlet tongue like a snake’s.

Huaichen was setting an exquisite jade Magical Artifact on the table, and seeing Yi Xuefeng enter, quickly backed up a few steps and bowed his head. “Little Immortal Lord.”

Yi Xuefeng was rather curious about the jade object and stepped forward for a look. “Was this also an artifact my father left me?”

Huaichen froze, then said, with an expression of indescribable complexity, “Th-this is the Jade Celestial Instrument.”

The hairpin Qieyun helpfully transmitted, “Hahaha, Dad, you’re such an old-timer. That’s for telling the hour, not some rare Spirit Artifact. You can have as many as you want.”

Yi Xuefeng: “…”

At that moment, the Jade Celestial Instrument gave a faint click. A single jade bead dropped onto the fretted pattern and rolled off.

The silence was excruciating.

Yi Xuefeng said nothing, and Huaichen grew only more nervous, wringing his hands anxiously, terrified that Yi Xuefeng would fly into a humiliated rage and take it out on him.

Yi Xuefeng exhaled softly and said, without a flicker of expression, “The hour of Hai has come. I’m retiring.”

Huaichen excused himself with frantic bows and bolted from the room like a rabbit.

After being run ragged all day, Yi Xuefeng was tired. He snuffed the candlestand and climbed into bed.

Qieyun was playing with Yi Xuefeng’s hair when it suddenly caught a strange fragrance. It froze for a long while before saying, “Dad, are you asleep?”

Yi Xuefeng made no sound.

He had followed Ning Yu since youth in the habit of sleeping at the hour of Hai and rising at the hour of Mao, and within moments he was fast asleep.

Getting no answer, Qieyun slipped quietly from Yi Xuefeng’s hair, floated to the windowsill, and slowly transformed into a tall, slender human form.

In human shape, Qieyun looked like nothing more than a boy, his face full of youthful innocence, a Sword Tassel hanging from one strand of his ink-black hair, swaying back and forth with his movements.

Barefoot, he ran to the windowsill, his crimson eyes blinking in puzzlement as he stared fixedly at the newly replaced flower.

After a moment, he rose up on tiptoe, leaned in—and swallowed the flower whole, blooms and all.

“Tastes so weird.”

Having eaten it, he seemed rather disgusted, sticking his tongue out repeatedly. He hopped about in place for a while longer before shrinking back into a hairpin and burrowing under Yi Xuefeng’s pillow.

The rain fell all night.

Early the next morning, Yi Xuefeng woke and sat on the edge of the bed for a long while before he was fully awake.

He stretched—and happened to glance at the windowsill. The flower that had swayed so gaily in the breeze just yesterday had somehow been reduced to a single bare stem.

Yi Xuefeng: “…”

Yi Xuefeng patted the pillow. “Where’s the flower?”

The hairpin scrambled up onto the pillow, bouncing with pride. “Dad, I ate it for you!”

Qieyun radiated Praise me! Praise me! from every fiber of its being.

“Why did you eat it?” Yi Xuefeng asked.

Qieyun said, fawning, “That flower’s fragrance is deadly poison—it does terrible damage to the Spirit Veins. I ate it for you, so now nothing can hurt you!”

Yi Xuefeng froze, and only then understood.

Someone in the Cold Huai River wants Lin Fuyu dead?

But on reflection, it made sense. With a temper as hateful as Lin Fuyu’s, attracting a grudge that led to murder wasn’t hard to imagine.

Had Lin Fuyu died so wretchedly under that beast’s jaws because his damaged Spirit Veins had left him too slow to escape?

Having taken over this shell, Yi Xuefeng was now bound to Lin Fuyu by karma. If he didn’t uncover the boy’s true cause of death, it might well harm his own cultivation going forward.

There was a knock at the door, and Huaichen said, “Little Immortal Lord, are you awake?”

“Mm, come in,” said Yi Xuefeng.

Qieyun floated over, carrying the outer robe, and draped it across Yi Xuefeng’s shoulders.

Huaichen pushed the door open and entered cradling a fresh pot of flowers. He bowed to Yi Xuefeng before setting the pot on the windowsill.

Yesterday’s flower was nothing but a bare stem now. Huaichen paused, and his gaze darted instinctively to Yi Xuefeng.

Yi Xuefeng gave him a smiling, curved-eyed look. “Perhaps some Spirit Beast came in the night and nibbled it. No matter.”

With Yi Xuefeng being so mild-mannered, Huaichen no longer feared him as before. He nodded slightly, gathered up the old pot in his arms, and made to withdraw.

Yi Xuefeng stopped him. “Where do these flowers come from?”

Huaichen said, “They’re sent down by order of the Deacon Hall—Spirit Flowers from Beixi that nourish the Spirit Veins, replaced fresh each day. They benefit the Little Immortal Lord’s cultivation.”

Yi Xuefeng nodded. “Understood. You may go.”

Huaichen bowed and left.

Qieyun floated over again, transformed, swallowed this one in a single gulp, and came back to nuzzle plaintively against Yi Xuefeng’s forearm. “This one’s poisoned too. Tastes awful.”

Yi Xuefeng closed his eyes, the expressions on everyone’s faces in the front hall yesterday replaying in his mind, and let out a sigh too faint to be caught.

Just then, Huaichen—who had gone and come straight back—pushed the door open again, as if remembering something. “Little Immortal Lord, the Immortal Grand Assembly is only days away, and this morning Sword Venerable Ning has also arrived. Sect Master Song asked me to inquire whether you might come to recei—”

He had barely finished speaking when his peripheral vision caught the windowsill’s flowerpot—bare once again.

Huaichen: “…”

Yi Xuefeng, carelessly winding his long hair up with the hairpin, blinked at Huaichen and said, “Same Spirit Beast as last night. Chomped it down in one bite.”

Huaichen: “…”

And then, having finished his joke, Yi Xuefeng suddenly went still and said, hesitating, “Just now—you said who has arrived?”