Chapter 13: Coldness and Estrangement

The two Violet Foxes in the Demon Suppression Bureau’s custody had died at each other’s throats, and the fox clan’s trail was severed.

The archives on the Violet Foxes at the Big Dipper Festival had long since reached the Bureau’s headquarters; the Chief Officer swiftly summoned Yan Su back to report.

Yan Su left Floating Jade Mountain, riding the wind back to the Demon Suppression Bureau at North Mausoleum, thousands of li away.

The headquarters stood on a solitary island; at its center lay “Boundless,” the barrier sheltering three provinces, exuding dim blue sigils century after century, barring any demon from slipping within.

Yan Su entered the Boundless plank-walkway with the Wuyou Sword at his waist.

The Chief Officer of the Demon Suppression Bureau faced the boundless Boundless Water, having waited a long while.

Yan Su bowed. “Chief Officer.”

The Bureau’s Chief Officer was named Li Buwei, though his frame was tall and burly. In a black robe, he turned at the sound and, seeing Yan Su, broke into a kindly smile. “Linyuan’s here—why the poor complexion? Wounded?”

Yan Su didn’t answer, only said, “There was faint demonic qi in the Bureau’s cages. The Violet Foxes turning on each other may have been provoked…”

“You weren’t summoned back for official business. I’ve already heard about the Linchuan Violet Foxes from Wensong.” Li Buwei watched him with a beaming smile. “He Xing was ‘Possessed,’ then beguiled, and got Yu’er gravely hurt. And you, Linyuan?”

Yan Su frowned.

“You are a rare heaven-blessed talent among your peers. Yet even at the Spirit Solidification Realm you were swayed by the Bewitchment Art of fox fire from a fox not yet at Origin Core. If your Dao Heart is unstable, one can only imagine how formidable the Great Demons of the demon race are.”

Li Buwei’s eyes seemed able to see straight through to Yan Su’s sea of consciousness. Smiling, he said, “Don’t you want to know how Yu’er escaped unscathed?”

Yan Su: “Because of his protective artifact?”

Li Buwei laughed heartily. “Because of his bloodline.”

Yan Su froze.

Li Buwei raised a hand and loosed spiritual power; the pristine water slowly condensed scene after scene.

“In those days Chaoping Marsh, the Yanxing Sect, and Floating Jade Mountain built the Demon Suppression Bureau together, all to cleanse the Three Realms of demons and bring peace to the land and sea.

“The Yanxing Sect holds the slaying artifact ‘Peerless’; Floating Jade Mountain holds the shielding artifact ‘Boundless.’ Chaoping Marsh alone had no divine artifact guarding its clan—yet they ranked among the Bureau’s founders, and even held the post of its previous Chief Officer, relying on nothing but their unique bloodline, inimical to the demon race.

“Those of Chaoping Marsh are born immune to demonic Bewitchment Arts. Their spiritual veins are so pure they can slay demons with spiritual power itself. It is called ‘Exquisite.'”

Yan Su’s brow knotted tighter and tighter. “Shishu wants Zhuoyu to join the Demon Suppression Bureau?”

Li Buwei laughed and shook his head, brushing the scenes from the water’s surface, and said carelessly, “I want you and Zhuoyu to become Dao Companions.”

Yan Su’s pupils blew wide, then contracted sharply—for an instant he thought himself back inside the illusion.

“Shishu… what did you say?”

“You’re a good child. You didn’t want to end up raving and slaughtering your own kin like your father, so you followed my elder brother in cultivating the Heart-Purifying Dao. But how can a human truly be without feeling? That path is only drinking poison to quench thirst.”

Li Buwei’s palm settled lightly on Yan Su’s shoulder, the smile never leaving his face, like a painted mask. He said evenly, “Become the Dual Cultivation Dao Companion of Zhuoyu, bearer of the Exquisite Bloodline, and let his spiritual power keep you clear-headed—this is the other road your Shishu has found for you.”

Yan Su’s face went white as paper. He stumbled back several steps and blurted, “No…”

Li Buwei hadn’t expected refusal. “Do you already have someone in your heart?”

“No.”

Li Buwei turned the matter over and could find no other reason. “Then why?”

Yan Su’s jaw was locked tight; he could not force out half a word.

Li Buwei said patiently, “Linyuan. When the three sects hunted demons in those days, your father was struck by a Qingshan demon art, and your divine sense was unstable from birth. And when the Lin Clan was annihilated, my elder brother hid on Floating Jade Mountain like a timid mouse, blind to the world. Now only you can shoulder the Bureau’s burden.”

Not a word of Li Buwei’s speech reached Yan Su; there was only a roaring in his ears.

He could break his Heart-Purifying Dao, cripple his core and cultivate anew. He could indulge himself, follow his heart, ignore the rumors of the Three Realms branding him a senior who beguiled his junior brother into becoming his Dao Companion…

But of all possible reasons, the one thing it could not contain was using.

Nothing beautiful in this world could compare to Lin Zhuoyu. Someone so jade-pure and pine-chaste should never be possessed with “ulterior motives.”

The Exquisite Heart could discern demonic illusions and bewitchment—yet could not see through the treachery of human hearts.

Li Buwei’s plan, from beginning to end, was use—merely flying the banner of “Mutual Affection” so that Lin Zhuoyu would willingly offer his spiritual veins to Yan Su.

“Linyuan? Linyuan!”

Yan Su looked up, a flash of blood crossing his eyes.

Before he could speak, the sword tassel at his waist stirred gently, and a handful of Qingru’s Boundless Water spilled out, Lin Zhuoyu’s voice drifting from it.

“Senior Brother! Senior Brother, Senior Brother! When are you coming back? Shizun said I can leave the sect to train—such a joyous thing deserves celebrating together. Missing you and longing for you—return soon, return soon!”

Yan Su, eyes lowered, pinched out the sigil on the tassel and spoke slowly, voice hoarse. “Shishu need say no more. I will not agree.”

Li Buwei knew the roots of his stubbornness and tried persuasion. “Zhuoyu has always clung to you. Most likely there’s affection there too…”

Yan Su was unmoved.

Lin Zhuoyu was good-tempered, warm and sincere to all who treated him well; he had risked his life to save even He Xing.

As for clinging to him—it was only that he had happened to save the boy as a child and won a unique novelty in his eyes. Nothing more than a fledgling’s imprinting. What “affection” was there in that?

Yan Su had no wish to say more. He inclined his head. “This disciple takes his leave.”

With that he turned to go.

“Among the descendants of the three sects, Chengbi’s talent was highest.” Li Buwei said suddenly. “But he’s dead. His body has never been found.”

Yan Su’s steps halted.

Li Buwei watched him. “The fox clan’s trail is faint. Every day, people across the Three Realms become ghosts in Great Demons’ bellies. If one day I die and the Bureau has no successor, it will be you—or Zhuoyu.”

Yan Su, without turning back: “Before my Dao breaks, I will cut down that Great Demon with my own hands.”

Watching Yan Su’s retreating back, Li Buwei rubbed his brow. Hesitating half a moment, he said abruptly, “Wensong.”

Ling Wensong appeared on the spot in an instant, kneeling on one knee. “Chief Officer.”

“Go to Floating Jade Mountain one of these days and deliver a message to my elder brother for me.” Li Buwei gazed at the boundless water, saying evenly, “Zhuoyu has come of age too. It’s time he came to the Bureau for training.”

Ling Wensong’s head was bowed, the corner of his lips curling slightly. “Yes.”

Li Buwei considered. “…Assign Zhuoyu to Linyuan’s side. Easier to look after him that way.”

Arranged so, no doubt his elder brother could rest easy.

Ling Wensong’s smile vanished at once; he rolled his eyes, silently cursing Yan Linyuan’s damn luck, bowed his assent, stepped back half a pace, and withdrew.

Spring flowers bloomed brilliantly; a sword sheath brushed the peonies at the roadside, scattering petals to drift on the wind.

Lin Zhuoyu caught a soft petal out of the air and held it to his lips, trying to whistle a little tune—but on inhaling, nearly sucked it into his lungs, and could only chew it up and swallow instead.

The windows of the Xuanxu Residence’s inner chamber stood wide open; on the desk lay dozens of ancient texts, every one of them thumbed through.

Recovery was boring, so Lin Zhuoyu applied himself to books.

Lingshu Mountain in Eastern Province lay in a remote region, bordering Ancient Qingqiu. According to Yan Su, the Bureau had investigated for traces of the fox clan and found nothing.

Why would those two words be in the Violet Fox’s memory?

Lingshu, Lingshu… Uncle.

Having amused himself, Lin Zhuoyu sprawled listlessly across the desk, gazing at the night sky at the horizon’s edge.

The Big Dipper hung upon the curtain of heaven.

Lin Zhuoyu’s eyes narrowed.

Lingshu—wasn’t that the first star of the Big Dipper, Tianshu?

Now more than ever, Lin Zhuoyu was certain Lingshu Mountain was a must.

Just then, Qingru suddenly drifted out, dripping with a patter of water drops.

Yan Su had been gone many days, so Lin Zhuoyu had deliberately placed a drop of Qingru at the mouth of Warm Spring Peak—the moment Yan Su returned, he would know at once.

Lin Zhuoyu leapt up in delight, threw on his cloak, and bolted outside.

Warm Spring Peak: heavy snow falling as it had for ten years unchanging.

Soon to be “released from prison,” Lin Zhuoyu could chat half a day with even a plum tree by the roadside. He walked as usual to Yan Su’s dwelling and strolled right in, entirely off his guard.

Thud.

Lin Zhuoyu’s head smacked solidly into Warm Spring Peak’s barrier, tears springing instantly to his eyes.

“Mmph…”

In all his life, Lin Zhuoyu had treated this barrier as if it didn’t exist. This was the first time it had stopped him.

He clutched his forehead and touched the transparent, fortress-like sigils in disbelief. Once he confirmed that spiritual power couldn’t break through either, he pounded on it, past enduring.

“Yan Linyuan! Yan Linyuan, you get out here!”

No movement from within.

But Qingru could never be wrong. Lin Zhuoyu’s eyes rimmed red. “I know you’re in there. Don’t play dead and fob me off—you’re bad at it!”

Still no answer.

“Fine, fine, fine.” Lin Zhuoyu rose, summoned Eldest Senior Brother’s sword, and rode it into the wind.

Inside Warm Spring Peak, Yan Su silently exhaled.

But before the breath was fully out, he saw Lin Zhuoyu wheel a huge circle in midair on the sword, then, momentum undiminished, charge straight at Warm Spring Peak’s barrier.

Every inch the attitude of if you won’t let me in, then watch me dash myself to death.

Yan Su: “…”

Lin Zhuoyu was fearless, summoning all his strength into the wind-riding charge.

At the instant he was about to strike Warm Spring Peak’s barrier, the sigils in midair flashed; the hard cliff face soundlessly turned to gentle water, wrapping him into its “embrace.”

Lin Zhuoyu’s lips curved, and he landed lightly.

Yan Su shoved the door open, regarding him expressionlessly. “Lin Zhuoyu, do you have a death wish?”

Lin Zhuoyu loved the sight of Yan Su at his wit’s end over him. He closed the distance in three steps turned two, smug. “I just wanted Senior Brother to pay me some attention. See? Instant results—zoom, out you came.”

Yan Su: “…”

Lin Zhuoyu, moving with practiced ease, made to slip inside—and was stopped by Yan Su’s raised arm.

“I’m in seclusion.”

“Seven days already—how are you still in seclusion?” Lin Zhuoyu pouted. “My wound’s mostly healed, and I’ve set the third of next month to leave the sect. Shizun had Perfected Zhou divine it—an auspicious day, all things favorable. Senior Brother, you’d better start preparing too.”

Yan Su looked down at the chattering Lin Zhuoyu, and after a long silence finally spoke the words he had been brewing for days.

“For this trip, have someone else accompany you.”

Lin Zhuoyu blinked. “Huh? Why?”

Yan Su said, “It would be inconvenient for me.”

Lin Zhuoyu puzzled: “You said ‘inconvenient’ last time, and now again. Could it be…”

Yan Su looked away, breath held lightly.

Lin Zhuoyu’s eyes went wide with revelation. “Eldest Senior Brother, you’re keeping a secret sweetheart at Warm Spring Peak?!”

Yan Su: “…”

As he spoke, Lin Zhuoyu suddenly glanced aside. “Shizun, what brings you here?”

Yan Su reflexively turned his head.

Like a snake, Lin Zhuoyu slunk under Yan Su’s arm, shouted “Ha!” and shoved the door open, charging in: “I have to see for myself—”

The words cut off.

Lin Zhuoyu’s claim had been offhand—just an excuse to force his way in and hole up at Warm Spring Peak, so Yan Su couldn’t seal the barrier again.

But stepping into the inner chamber, he looked around to find a cold, empty, alien place.

For a moment Lin Zhuoyu simply stood there, lost—a long while before he realized it wasn’t that the place was unfamiliar, but that everything in Warm Spring Peak belonging to him was gone.

What remained was a single stone daybed, and a worn tea table by the window.

Beyond that, nothing.

Lin Zhuoyu tried to find a single thing of his, failed after a long search, and turned back, nearly helpless.

“Senior Brother? Where are my things?”