Chapter 15: Lu Qi of Lingshu Mountain Part 2

Lin Zhuoyu’s heart was pure and clear; he never assumed the worst of anyone. Even if he learned of Li Buwei’s scheme, he would likely—out of that fledgling’s instinctive “dependency”—pity his senior brother’s shattered Dao Heart, willingly offer up his Exquisite Blood, and agree to become Yan Su’s Dao Companion to aid his cultivation.

Yan Su swallowed the words that had almost left his mouth and said only, “May a thousand li go smoothly for you.”

Lin Zhuoyu gave a cold snort, thinking, I’ll be ten thousand li away this time.

He told no one he was heading to Lingshu Mountain in the Eastern Province, grudgingly accepted the blessing, and trotted off.

…As if he could not get away from Yan Su fast enough.

Yan Su stood alone, staring at the shut door, unmoving for a long, long time.

After twists and turns, it was finally settled: Lin Zhuoyu would go off to train alone.

Early in the morning, He Xing came bounding to Xuanxu Residence, dropping hint after hint about accompanying his little junior brother on his travels.

Lin Zhuoyu, unable to read between the lines, took it as a provocation—as though He Xing looked down on his cultivation—and immediately drew his sword and fought him in a fury.

He Xing suffered a crushing defeat and ran off crying.

Lin Zhuoyu had never once left home alone. Word spread that he was leaving the sect, and nearly half of it came to see him off.

“…Little Senior Brother, be careful with everything! This is a world map of the Three Realms’ nine cities. If you can’t read it, the road is in your mouth—ask someone if you get lost! It’s our first time out, no shame in asking!”

“Okay!”

“Little Senior Brother, the outside world isn’t Floating Jade Mountain. Some places forbid sword flight. When you see a stone marker like this, land and walk. If you’re tired, blow this whistle—with any luck a divine beast will come carry you!”

“What divine beast—Little Senior Brother, don’t listen to him. Last time I blew one of those, a stubborn donkey came charging out and nearly gored me to death! Better to take some Crystal Jade and hire someone to carry you!”

“Okay, okay!”

Lin Zhuoyu was jostled nearly off the Mountain Steps, arms stuffed with things, and managed to stretch out one hand. “All right, all right. I’m leaving the sect to train, not leaving forever.”

At that, every face changed, and everyone lunged to cover his mouth.

“Nonsense! You can’t say things like that before setting out!”

“Ptui, ptui, ptui!”

“Ancestors above—children’s words carry no harm! Children’s words carry no harm!”

Lin Zhuoyu: “…”

Chewing the candied fruit someone had stuffed into his mouth in the confusion, Lin Zhuoyu was made to spit three times. “I know, I know. I’ll take care of myself. Go on back, hm?”

The disciples reluctantly said their farewells.

Lin Zhuoyu was the exact opposite—thrilled to be traveling alone for the very first time.

The thousand steps of Floating Jade Mountain were carpeted with fallen petals. He ran lightly down the whole way, his robes whipping up a wind that sent petals scattering in his wake.

Watching Lin Zhuoyu frolic off into the distance, He Xing’s heart was heavy, and at last he understood his Senior Martial Uncle’s worry.

With Lin Zhuoyu’s green, untested temperament, leaving Floating Jade Mountain’s protection truly was nerve-wracking. One feared he’d be lured away with nothing more than a string of candied hawthorns.

He Xing sighed and turned to go—but caught a familiar figure at the very top of the Mountain Steps.

Yan Su stood high up in the keening wind, snow-white robes snapping, his face rarely so pale, watching the receding figure with an expression impossible to read.

Gathering his courage, He Xing ran up. “Well, well, if it isn’t our ever-so-busy Eldest Senior Brother?”

Yan Su gave him an icy look.

He Xing deflated instantly and muttered, “Your little junior brother goes off to train and you won’t even see him off. What kind of fight was that, to make you so heartless? Aren’t you worried something might happen to—”

He hastily clapped a hand over his own mouth, then pressed his palms together and bowed to all directions.

“Children’s words carry no harm! Children’s words carry no harm!”

Yan Su did not stoop to his level. Only when Lin Zhuoyu’s figure had vanished completely at the end of the Mountain Steps did he turn and sweep away.

He Xing let out a huge breath of relief. The Eldest Senior Brother’s aura had been cold and cutting, but his temper had actually improved—he hadn’t even beaten him up.

He looked at the empty Mountain Steps and began to worry anew.

Lin Zhuoyu was a fool with money and spent like water. Who knew if the Crystal Jade he carried would last.

At the Flying Kite Workshop at the foot of Floating Jade Mountain, the ticket seller’s eyes nearly popped out at the pile of Crystal Jade this Little Immortal Lord slapped onto the table. He hastily presented the token for the finest private room aboard a Wooden Kite.

“This is the Heaven-Tier Private Room. It flies straight to Cuckoo-Listening Valley in the Eastern Province, arriving at the Noon Hour tonight. From there, sword flight eight hundred li east and you’ll reach Lingshu Mountain.”

Lin Zhuoyu accepted the token with a straight face.

Senior Brother He had taught him: outside, keep a cold face. Smile too much and people will take you for an easy mark and fleece you dry.

Excellent—he was a great success. Nobody fleeced him.

Token in hand, Lin Zhuoyu was respectfully ushered aboard the Wooden Kite.

Before he had even mounted the steps, his sharp ears caught someone muttering below.

“What an easy mark. That much Crystal Jade could buy the whole private room. Tsk tsk. Whose young master is this, out getting swindled—no, out training, I mean.”

Lin Zhuoyu: “…………”

Young Master Lin went up the steps with a black face.

Fortunately, the Wooden Kite’s private room was elegantly appointed—clearly someone had put thought into it. Push open the window and a snow-gauze-like barrier kept out the screaming wind and killing cold of the high altitude.

Considering the accommodations passably comfortable, Lin Zhuoyu held his nose and swallowed the loss.

Soon the hour came, and the Wooden Kite, bearing its small mountain of pavilions, spread its wings and flew.

It was his first time out alone, and everything looked new to Lin Zhuoyu. He wandered the spacious room to pass over an hour, then, hearing bustling outside, pushed open the door and stepped out.

His room sat at the very top, and outside was a pavilion for travelers to rest. Sitting there and looking down, one could watch the comings and goings on the tiers below.

The Wooden Kite skimmed through the high clouds.

Below, people of every kind—a slice of the human world’s warmth and bustle that Lin Zhuoyu had rarely seen.

He found it endlessly interesting. Chin propped on his hands, he leaned on the railing, watching the people below go about their business, lazily watching for over an hour.

The Wooden Kite flew swift as wind, drifting down to land before the Noon Hour.

Cuckoo-Listening Valley was aptly named—cuckoos everywhere. The moment the Wooden Kite touched down, flocks of birds startled into flight.

Lin Zhuoyu always loved to go “waah” at novel things. Knowing that a straight face was simply too hard to maintain, he resorted to a trick: he donned a curtain hat hung with beads to hide his expressions, and could finally gasp and marvel to his heart’s content.

After a good half day of “waah”-ing through Cuckoo-Listening Valley, he rode the wind at dusk toward Lingshu Mountain.

Lingshu Mountain bordered the prosperous Guping City, but its other side lay against the abandoned Ancient Qingqiu—supposedly a gathering place of fox demons, which the common folk dared not approach. In time, even Lingshu Mountain itself went uninhabited.

Lin Zhuoyu flew fast; in less than half an hour he reached the edge of Lingshu Mountain.

Night had fallen.

He had spent the whole day giddy with the freedom of being alone and answerable to no one, but as darkness closed in and he stared at the endless black pressing in from all sides—out overnight for the very first time—fear finally caught up with him.

Only now did he belatedly discover that he was afraid of the dark.

Fortunately, a faint light glimmered not far ahead. He streaked over at once.

The ground ahead was a no-wind-riding zone, so Lin Zhuoyu landed and walked on, lamp in hand.

The dark night itself was nothing to fear; it was the unknown that terrified.

Bolstering his courage, he summoned his Eldest Senior Brother to his side, guarding against a sudden attack.

Just as he was growing used to the darkness, a heart-rending scream tore through the distance.

Lin Zhuoyu jumped so hard he nearly dropped the lamp.

Before he could recover, faint cries for help reached him from within the screaming.

“Save… me…”

Lin Zhuoyu froze for a heartbeat, then flew—toes skimming the ground, leaping through the forest like a nimble butterfly—and before long stopped at the source of the firelight.

Before he even drew close, a thick, ominous smell of blood hit him.

Lin Zhuoyu looked sharply over—and his face changed slightly.

In the middle of the wilderness, several corpses lay gutted and splayed where they had fallen, severed arms and shocking blood everywhere. The man who had screamed earlier had a blade punched through his chest and was vomiting mouthful after mouthful of blood—somehow still alive.

Lin Zhuoyu rushed forward at once, channeling spiritual power to shield his spiritual meridians. “Hold on, I’ll—”

The man’s blood-soaked hand clamped around his wrist, his other hand stretching forward, his eyes full of terror and despair. “Sa… keugh… him… demon…”

Before the words were done, his hand dropped, and his convulsing body went still.

He was dead.

No amount of spiritual power poured into the body could help now. Lin Zhuoyu could only stiffly withdraw his power.

He had come too late.

Whether these people had slaughtered one another or been bewitched by the Demon Race, there was no telling. It was a purgatory on earth—and on closer look, among the dead was even a boy not yet grown.

An unprecedented fury surged in Lin Zhuoyu’s chest, as if he were once more that helpless child of long ago.

Just then, a faint sound came from behind him.

Lin Zhuoyu whipped around—and only then belatedly realized the direction the man had pointed to with his dying breath.

Against the lightless night, half a figure slowly emerged from behind a towering tree, staring over blankly.

Lin Zhuoyu blinked.

Someone else was alive?

The person looked young, dressed in the same purple robes as the corpses around him, face white as a ghost’s, ink-black hair in disarray yet still revealing a youth of unearthly beauty.

He seemed frozen by the sea of blood, staring dully at the man lying dead with eyes still open. “Father…”

Lin Zhuoyu frowned at him.

To survive such a massacre without a single wound—that was not normal.

Lin Zhuoyu rose and approached, palm sheathed in a layer of imperceptible Boundless Water, his manner gentle as he drew near. “It’s all right now. Nothing will happen.”

So saying, he laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

The next instant, the boy shuddered violently and stumbled back in terror.

Lin Zhuoyu’s brow arched, and he was about to summon his Eldest Senior Brother when the frail youth swayed twice—then, along with the smell of blood, pitched forward into his arms.

Lin Zhuoyu caught him on reflex.

Only then did he see the wounds, bloody and raw, across the boy’s back.

Startled, Lin Zhuoyu steadied him carefully.

“Save…” Pale from blood loss, the boy gripped Lin Zhuoyu’s forearm with difficulty, murmuring, “Save my father…”

Lin Zhuoyu softened his voice, feeding spiritual power into the boy’s body while swiftly staunching the bleeding.

Only then did he realize how gravely hurt the boy was—already at his last breath. Afraid the boy might close his eyes and never wake, he pressed a life-preserving Spirit Pill into his hand and said gently, “Mm, all right. Don’t be afraid—don’t sleep yet. What’s your name?”

Wrapped in Lin Zhuoyu’s faint fragrance, leaning against his chest as if the bloody purgatory all around had been shut away, the boy breathed out slowly. Listening to the young man’s light heartbeat, he said, “Qi.”

Lin Zhuoyu didn’t catch it. “Hm?”

“Lu Qi.”