Chapter 14: A Huge Fight

Lin Zhuoyu had never found Warm Spring Peak so bitterly cold and desolate.

Seeing that Yan Su wouldn’t answer, Lin Zhuoyu charged inside and searched every corner—the side courtyard, the small pavilion, every place that had ever held a trace of him.

Nothing.

In all the vast Warm Spring Peak, only the centuries-old peach tree in the courtyard remained, proof that the past fifteen years had not been empty.

Lin Zhuoyu even suspected Yan Su had meant to dig out that tree too—for the red string the two of them had tied around the trunk together had snapped.

Black, then white, swam before Lin Zhuoyu’s eyes. Bracing himself against the doorframe, he stared at Yan Su, still standing where he was.

“…”

Lin Zhuoyu tried to speak, his throat dry. He wanted to demand loudly what Yan Su really meant—but panic and rage churned in his heart together, his pulse racing as it never had.

All the reproach and resentment surged up from his chest—but what came out was: “Are you angry with me?”

Yan Su went rigid.

Lin Zhuoyu said haltingly, “I really do know I was wrong.”

The Lin Clan of Chaoping Marsh had once held sway over the Demon Suppression Bureau, power at its zenith. Though Lin Zhuoyu bore the Exquisite Bloodline, with the prodigious Lin Chengbi as his elder brother before him, no one ever burdened him with responsibility—as long as he was happy and carefree, that was enough.

Even after joining Floating Jade Mountain, he had remained the admired darling of heaven; he had rarely known such anxious, uncertain moments.

Yan Su’s heart clenched. “Senior Brother doesn’t blame you.”

Lin Zhuoyu hurried forward, meaning to grab his sleeve as always.

But Yan Su stepped back half a pace, eyes downcast, not looking at him, his tone as waveless as an ancient well. “You’ve come of age now. You’re not like a child who needs looking after.”

Lin Zhuoyu stood stunned. Clever as he was, he heard the icy distance beneath those seemingly gentle words and blurted instinctively, “…You won’t look after me anymore?”

Yan Su parted his lips.

Lin Zhuoyu waited, panicking and hoping at once, for the answer.

But Yan Su hesitated—and not half a word came out.

Lin Zhuoyu’s heart sank.

Silence was as good as a yes.

Lin Zhuoyu closed his eyes, struggling to banish the emotions clouding his reason, turning over and over why Yan Su would do this.

Everything had been fine in Linchuan City—why this sudden coldness?

“Senior Brother.” Lin Zhuoyu looked at him. “What exactly did you see in the fox fire?”

This was the third time Lin Zhuoyu had asked Yan Su this question.

Yan Su still didn’t answer. Only: “It has nothing to do with you.”

Lin Zhuoyu’s brow arched. “Then why did you fall into Qi Deviation?”

Yan Su frowned. “I don’t constrain you—don’t meddle in my affairs in return.”

“Ha!” Lin Zhuoyu laughed in sheer exasperation. He had been the one breathing “don’t be rash,” “don’t act on impulse,” “let’s talk this through” the whole way here—and now these words lit his temper like a struck match.

Lin Zhuoyu declared war.

“NOW you want to divide what’s yours and mine? Back when I wanted to carve my name on all your things, you weren’t singing this tune!”

“You were six then.”

“And I’ve addled my brain with Subtle Probing—mentally, I’m six again.” Lin Zhuoyu admitted grandly, striking indiscriminately. “Throwing out an idiot. Abusing the simple-minded. I’ll announce it to all Three Realms and have you condemned by a thousand pointing fingers and scolded by Shizun!”

Yan Su: “…”

“Lin Zhuoyu—!” Before Yan Su could speak, Lin Zhuoyu loudly seized the words first. “Don’t you dare ‘Lin Zhuoyu’ me! Tell me—all these years, have you learned any new words? Hmm? How about this: draw your sword and fight me. If you win, kick me straight off Warm Spring Peak and be done. If you lose, you move out of Warm Spring Peak!”

Yan Su: “…”

Yan Su swallowed the “Lin Zhuoyu” about to leave his mouth and turned to walk away.

“Yan Linyuan—! Stand right there!”

Yan Su didn’t even look back.

Lin Zhuoyu darted forward and seized his wrist, furious. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Yan Su said, “To move out.”

Lin Zhuoyu was floored with fury. “You—!”

He looked him up and down and snarled, “Since you want to divide us, let’s divide all the way. Right now—the sword I gave you, the tassel, the outer robes, the hair crown, the jade pendant, and those—the underlayers—leave every one of them with me!”

Yan Su: “…”

Lin Zhuoyu refused to believe the Eldest Senior Brother had the face to walk out naked.

Yan Su met his glare, expressionless. “And the ones on my body?”

Lin Zhuoyu choked—then malice born of desperation rose within him, and he went straight for his belt to strip. “Every single thing you’ve ever given me is embroidered with gaudy flowers! So ugly I’m embarrassed to be seen in them! Perfect—take them all, and go prance around in your flowers!”

Yan Su’s hand clamped over his. “Lin… don’t be absurd.”

Lin Zhuoyu glared at him, seething.

As they locked in stalemate, He Xing’s voice floated in from outside Warm Spring Peak: “Little Junior Brother, you in there?”

Lin Zhuoyu flung the peach-blossom-embroidered belt over his shoulder and, clothes askew, pushed the door open with a slap, calling out, “Who is it? Oh my, isn’t it my dearest Senior Brother He? Perfect timing, Senior Brother He—help me move some things, would you?”

Yan Su: “…”

He Xing’s guilt hadn’t faded; every day he had been stealing miraculous spirit elixirs from Shizun to feed his Little Junior Brother like candy.

Hearing that Lin Zhuoyu actually needed help, his eyes lit up and he came sprinting, fired up: “Yes, yes! Your Senior Brother is duty-bound to help!”

Even if it were hauling a mountain, he could shoulder it with a bellow.

He Xing had barely run forward when he smacked headfirst into Warm Spring Peak’s iron-hard barrier and crouched down clutching his nose.

Lin Zhuoyu was terrified—He Xing was a fool to begin with, and he worried the blow had knocked something loose. He rushed over: “Senior Brother He!”

He had barely taken two steps when an ice-cold hand clamped around his wrist.

Lin Zhuoyu stopped and turned to look.

Yan Su had been the one to grab him—yet in the instant their eyes met, Yan Su’s hand went rigid and flung Lin Zhuoyu’s hand off, brow knotted as he wrenched his gaze away.

Lin Zhuoyu didn’t understand.

Disgust?

Yan Su produced a Spirit Mustard Seed and tossed it into Lin Zhuoyu’s arms. “No need for the trouble.”

Lin Zhuoyu swept his divine sense through the seed—why, a dazzling trove of things. It seemed everything had been packed long ago.

Even the best temper could not withstand such cold treatment and estrangement. Lin Zhuoyu stood fixed, staring at him for a long moment—then suddenly smiled.

“All right.”

That was all Lin Zhuoyu said. He turned, swept his sleeve, and left.

Yan Su stood where he was and reached out instinctively to stop him—but his hand rose only to graze the very tips of Lin Zhuoyu’s hair.

His divine sense, like a slender thread, tracked Lin Zhuoyu’s hurrying footsteps, heard the short, furious breaths of rage, unrelenting, passing straight through Warm Spring Peak’s barrier.

…Like a wind that could not be caught.

He Xing had been slammed nearly face-first into the dirt.

Lin Zhuoyu helped him up, patting his forehead. “Did the knock rattle you stupid? Do you know who I am?”

He Xing looked at him blankly. “Who are you? Are you my Dao Companion?”

Though he was seething at Yan Su, Lin Zhuoyu couldn’t hold back a burst of laughter. “In your dreams!”

He Xing clutched his forehead, brow furrowed. “What’s wrong with Eldest Senior Brother? Stopping me out of nowhere? Mm—and why are your clothes all disheveled?”

Lin Zhuoyu yanked him downhill, displeased. “Who knows what’s wrong with him?”

He Xing draped his outer robe over his shoulders and, hearing this, was overjoyed. “You two had a fight?”

Lin Zhuoyu looked at him suspiciously.

He Xing lowered his eyes and said sorrowfully, “…You had a fight?”

“I can’t be bothered to fight with that silent gourd.”

He Xing suppressed the twitch at the corner of his mouth and said mournfully, “But aren’t you leaving the sect soon to train? Fighting like this, can you still go?”

Lin Zhuoyu worried too. “No idea. Worst case, I’ll go alone.”

“Ahem, ahem!” He Xing puffed out his chest. “Don’t be silly. Your Senior Martial Uncle would never let you go alone—ahem, ahem!”

Lin Zhuoyu looked at him. “What’s with the coughing? Did you hurt your nose?”

He Xing: “…”

He Xing was just about to produce his “It just so happens I have time, and could grudgingly accompany you” when a rumbling suddenly sounded behind them.

The two turned to look.

Warm Spring Peak was avalanching.

He Xing yelped, leapt up, hoisted Lin Zhuoyu over his shoulder, and ran downhill.

Avalanches were common on Warm Spring Peak, and Lin Zhuoyu was long used to them—but hoisted unexpectedly onto He Xing’s shoulder, the hair pendant Yan Su had given him burst loose from his black hair and plummeted to the ground.

Instinctively, Lin Zhuoyu reached for it.

He Xing simply rode the wind.

The next instant the snowline collapsed, and the avalanche swallowed that glimpse of jade-white.

Amid the chaos, Lin Zhuoyu looked back up—high on Warm Spring Peak, a snow-white figure seemed to be gazing down from on high.

A wild gust swept past, and the figure was gone.

As if it had been nothing but an illusion conjured from a flurry of snowflakes.

After many days of rest and swallowing a small mountain of spirit pills, the wound on Lin Zhuoyu’s back had finally healed, leaving only a faint scar.

The spring warmth deepened daily. Lin Zhuoyu sat cross-legged against a soft pillow, reading.

He hadn’t turned a single page in over half a day.

“Yu’er?”

Lin Zhuoyu jolted back to himself. “Hm? I’m listening, Shizun, go on!”

Daoist Lord Tongxu: “…”

Daoist Lord Tongxu tapped his head lightly with the scroll, saying evenly, “Where has your head wandered off to?”

Lin Zhuoyu: “Aftereffects of Subtle Probing. Ah—who are you? I don’t know you, but one look and I can tell you’re my destiny-appointed Shizun. Take me as your disciple!”

Daoist Lord Tongxu, never one to smile before outsiders, was nonetheless laughed into it by Lin Zhuoyu’s antics. “The Lin Clan stood for uprightness and clarity. How did they produce such a silver tongue?”

Lin Zhuoyu snuggled close. “All thanks to Shizun’s excellent teaching!”

Daoist Lord Tongxu decided the cheek deserved a scolding, and poked his forehead, sending him toppling backward, sprawled all four limbs on the floor.

Lin Zhuoyu lay staring up at the ceiling. After a while, he said suddenly, “Shizun… my elder brother’s body was never found. Doesn’t that mean he might still be alive?”

Daoist Lord Tongxu’s hand, turning a page, stilled.

“Could the Great Demon have designs on him, and so trapped him somewhere, just like it took me?” The more he spoke, the brighter Lin Zhuoyu grew. “He’s somewhere in the Three Realms, waiting for me to save him.”

Daoist Lord Tongxu: “Yu’er.”

Lin Zhuoyu wormed over to him, clutching his knee, waiting hopefully for the answer.

Daoist Lord Tongxu smoothed the stray hairs from his brow and said softly, “Chengbi’s Life Lamp went out long ago.”

The joy drained instantly from Lin Zhuoyu’s face.

Seeing him like a soul reft from his body, Daoist Lord Tongxu couldn’t bear it and said gently, “You’ve had nightmares for days. Linyuan returned to Floating Jade Mountain yesterday. Shall I call him in to lull you to sleep?”

Lin Zhuoyu, still sunk in “the Life Lamp went out,” nodded absently. “Sure.”

But the moment Daoist Lord Tongxu took up the Sect Master Token to summon Yan Su, Lin Zhuoyu abruptly remembered the two of them were in a cold war, and hurried to say, “No, no! I don’t want that!”

Daoist Lord Tongxu had barely opened his mouth when the Sect Master Token received a reply.

Yan Su’s characters swept bold and fierce, pressing through the paper, floating above the token.

“To Shizun: I have entered seclusion. I cannot come.”

Lin Zhuoyu: “…”

Lin Zhuoyu: “Hahaha!”

Might as well drop dead.

Daoist Lord Tongxu also found it strange. In the past, whenever Lin Zhuoyu needed anything, Yan Su would set aside even the most urgent matters—such a flat refusal was rare indeed.

“Did you two fight?”

Petrified that Shizun might refuse to let him leave the sect alone, Lin Zhuoyu hastened to say, “No, no, we get along wonderfully! Hee hee.”

Daoist Lord Tongxu: “Hm?”

“Ah.” Lin Zhuoyu stretched extravagantly. “Sleepy. I’ll sleep at Deer Jade Terrace tonight.”

With that, and without waiting for Shizun’s questions, he slunk guiltily into the inner chamber.

Daoist Lord Tongxu had heard about their huge fight as well, but didn’t press.

Before long, a dao attendant reported from outside: “Daoist Lord, Commander Ling of the Demon Suppression Bureau requests an audience. The Chief Officer sends a message.”

Lin Zhuoyu was bathing in the hot spring connected to the inner chamber; hearing that Ling Wensong had arrived, he lazily slapped the water.

But before long the attendant added, “Senior Brother Yan has come too.”

At that, Lin Zhuoyu couldn’t wait a second longer—he rose dripping from the water, threw a white robe over himself roughly, and pattered out.

“It’s not that I care about that surname-Yan fellow,” Lin Zhuoyu told himself. “But Ling Wensong is still a senior brother of our own mountain, and he’s come all this way. I really ought to go welcome him.”

Mm. Yes. Very convincing.

Thus reassured, Lin Zhuoyu performed the highest welcome ceremony Floating Jade Mountain had to offer—eavesdropping like a thief at the edge of the bead curtain.

After all, Shizun’s residence was carved through with sigils; Yan Su would never detect him there.

Lin Zhuoyu pricked up his ears and quickly made out two sets of footsteps.

Yan Su’s came first.

“This disciple greets Shizun.”

“Your junior, Ling Cang, greets Senior Martial Uncle.”

Daoist Lord Tongxu’s voice held little warmth for the man. “Not in seclusion?”

Yan Su seemed to choke. A long while passed before he said, “This disciple has matters to report.”

“They can wait. Stand aside.”

“…Yes.”

Ling Wensong had feared this Foremost of the Three Realms since childhood, and his temper was reined in and docile to the extreme: “Is your health well, Senior Martial Uncle? My father often asks after you.”

“Mm.” Daoist Lord Tongxu had no patience for pleasantries. “Li Buwei sent you with a message. Out with it.”

Ling Wensong said carefully, “The Chief Officer has heard that Junior Brother Yu’er…”

Daoist Lord Tongxu’s brow knotted hard.

Ling Wensong fell silent as a cicada in winter and hastily corrected himself, “…Junior Brother Zhuoyu has come of age and will be leaving to train. Alone, danger is inevitable. The Demon Suppression Bureau would be a fine place for him.”

Lin Zhuoyu’s eyes curved.

Just as he nodded off, someone had delivered a pillow. If he could get into the Demon Suppression Bureau, he could go to Lingshu Mountain openly and legitimately.

But Daoist Lord Tongxu gave a short laugh.

Li Buwei never rose early without profit. To have Zhuoyu come to the Bureau at this precise juncture—he was certainly scheming something.

Daoist Lord Tongxu said coolly, “Training abroad is fraught with peril, yet in the Bureau he could rest easy without a care. Chief Officer Li is indeed thoughtful.”

Cold sweat broke out on Ling Wensong. “Daoist Lord, the Chief Officer holds Junior Brother in the highest esteem—he would never let him come to harm. He specifically intends to place him at Commander Yan’s side as an Envoy.”

Daoist Lord Tongxu arched a brow.

What kindness was this?

He might permit Lin Zhuoyu, restless and cooped up, an outing or two of play—but he would never permit him to venture into the perils lining every path of the Demon Suppression Bureau.

Outside, eavesdropping, Lin Zhuoyu’s eyes narrowed; he quickly forced down the corner of his lips.

Before he could finish savoring his glee, he suddenly heard a familiar voice.

“No.”

Lin Zhuoyu froze.

The one refusing wasn’t Shizun—it was Yan Su.

Daoist Lord Tongxu said coldly, “Did I ask for your opinion?”

Yan Su lowered his head, defying his master, rare as it was. “This disciple knows his error. But Zhuoyu is not suited to the Demon Suppression Bureau. I beg Shizun to think again.”

“You came here today just to say this?”

“Yes.”

Daoist Lord Tongxu regarded Yan Su coldly. “Yu’er is twenty-one now, his cultivation talent unmatched in all Three Realms. Tell me—where exactly is he unsuited to the Bureau?”

“Zhuoyu is untried in the world.” Yan Su said. “He has rarely left Floating Jade Mountain since childhood, and knows nothing of the malice of men…”

Ling Wensong: “…”

Is he for real?

Seeing Daoist Lord Tongxu’s face grow colder and colder, Ling Wensong went mute as a chilled cicada, half-wishing he could sprout wings and fly from this place.

As if deaf to the cold in Shizun’s eyes, Yan Su pressed on. “…One who needs coaxing to sleep is a child not yet grown. Shizun was just now worrying over Zhuoyu’s frequent nightmares—if you consent to send him to the Bureau, will you have him remain there a pampered Little Immortal Lord, protected at every turn? Could you truly bear to watch him fight monsters and demons to the death, vicious and merciless?”

Daoist Lord Tongxu’s face darkened. “Yan Su.”

Yan Su gathered his robes and knelt, expressionless. “This disciple knows his error.”

Daoist Lord Tongxu was cold of heart and cold of bearing—all the gaudy ornaments of Deer Jade Terrace were for Lin Zhuoyu’s use. On the wall hung a single limpid Water Mirror, reflecting the inner chamber’s bead curtain.

Yan Su’s kneeling motion had set his gaze squarely upon that Water Mirror.

When he saw the scene reflected in it, Yan Su’s face changed abruptly.

Lin Zhuoyu stood alone outside the bead curtain in a loose, thin snow-white robe, the surrounding sigils erasing every trace of his presence—no one had discovered him eavesdropping.

The curtain was strung from hundreds of spirit plants rarely seen in this world, colorful, trailing and swaying.

Lin Zhuoyu’s face was hidden behind the curtain—who knew how long he had been listening—but one could vaguely make out the bewilderment in his expression, his pale lips…

…and the tear tracks sliding down his face.