Chapter 32: First Confrontation Part 2

Wei Qingxiao’s stomach dropped. Carefully, she asked, “Sect Master… may I speak honestly?”

Daoist Lord Tongxu was silent a good while. “What else would you do?”

“Cough.” Realizing she’d asked a foolish question, Wei Qingxiao cleared her throat. “I also think that man Lu has murky origins. If the month ends and he clings on, refusing to break the pact with Zhuoyu—then what? I’ve never seen anyone’s fated true love arrive by way of ‘seizure by force.'”

Daoist Lord Tongxu had naturally considered the same. He exhaled soundlessly. “Understood. You may go.”

Wei Qingxiao hesitated. “Sect Master—may I go see Linyuan?”

“Mm. Don’t say anything foolish to him.”

“Yes.”

Wei Qingxiao made her way to the rear hall of Deer Jade Terrace, and from far off saw a lone figure seated within the freezing depths of the Cold Pond.

Sigil barriers ringed the area on all sides; the pond’s spiritual energy aided Yan Su in purifying his heart. Wei Qingxiao sighed, thinking that although the Sect Master never said it aloud, he still worried for this eldest disciple.

Yan Su sat amid the freezing mist, his half-lowered lashes rimed with frost like hoarfrost glaze, making his pale lips look paler still.

At the sound of footsteps, his eyes snapped open toward the outside.

But upon seeing that it was Wei Qingxiao, he lowered his gaze—seemingly disappointed.

Wei Qingxiao sighed. “Linyuan, how can you be so reckless? Even that blockhead Xing’er knows to kill behind closed doors—but you? You drew your sword in front of everyone. I don’t know whether to call you a brute or applaud your courage.”

Yan Su’s voice was hoarse. “Shishu… how is Zhuoyu? Was he frightened?”

“He’ll live.” Wei Qingxiao said, “Though the two of them may hold the Union Ceremony and seal the pact in three days.”

Shhk.

A violent surge of spiritual power erupted from Yan Su’s body and slammed into the barrier with a boom, condensing layer upon layer of eerie ice-frost.

Seeing the red creeping into his eyes, Wei Qingxiao hurried to add, “But don’t worry—our Sect Master was needled thoroughly by that bastard Li Buwei. He may not actually let them form the pact after all.”

Whether it was jealousy or fury burning in Yan Su’s chest, it was consuming him alive, incinerating him from the inside. He ground out through clenched teeth, “Then… how do I stop it?”

Taking in his sword-drawn, murder-ready posture, Wei Qingxiao said dryly, “For one, killing him won’t settle anything.”

Yan Su’s jaw was locked iron-tight. “I want to slice him into a thousand pieces.”

“I scolded you a moment ago and you’ve already forgotten? Useless thing.” Wei Qingxiao was frustrated beyond words. “I was planning to find a way to persuade the Sect Master to let you out. If you keep flying into states like this, there’s no hope at all.”

Yan Su closed his eyes. “Within three days, I will get out myself.”

Wei Qingxiao frowned. “This barrier opens only to a purified heart. In your state of Qi Deviation, who knows how many years until then?”

Yan Su said nothing.

Wei Qingxiao thought it over—and a sudden chill ran through her. “You’re not thinking of… Dao-Breaking Recultivation?”

Once the Heart-Purifying Dao broke, Qi Deviation came all too easily. Dao-Breaking Recultivation could indeed return one to the proper path—but only from the very beginning.

Cultivating all the way to the late stage of Spirit Solidification was astoundingly difficult. Wei Qingxiao ached for the waste of it.

Yan Su’s face was expressionless. He did not answer.

Remembering that stubborn streak of his, Wei Qingxiao drew in another sharp breath. “Then you mean to switch Dao paths?”

Switching paths and Dao-Breaking Recultivation arrived at similar results—but the processes were worlds apart.

Breaking the Dao meant shattering the Origin Core and scattering one’s cultivation, then spending long years rebuilding it bit by bit.

Switching paths meant shattering the Origin Core without scattering one’s cultivation—enduring the agony of the core re-forming countless times before entering the new Dao directly.

Watching the spiritual power beginning to spread outward from Yan Su’s body, Wei Qingxiao suddenly realized: this child had already begun shattering his core to switch paths.

Wei Qingxiao watched with her heart in her throat, yet could do nothing to stop it.

The previous Sect Master of the Yanxing Sect had been driven raving mad by a curse technique of the Demon Race. If Yan Su did not cultivate the Heart-Purifying Dao, he might well walk the same road.

And when that day came—how would it all end?

The frost spread steadily outward, and a hairline crack suddenly appeared across the translucent sigil barrier, creeping wider.

Click.

Lin Zhuoyu’s eyes snapped open toward the window.

It was already dark. A spirit cat leapt onto the peach tree, and its He Xing-fed bulk snapped the blossom-laden branch clean off, sending it crashing down into a pile of peach blossoms with a yowl.

Lin Zhuoyu said resignedly, “What is it now?”

A cat’s head abruptly poked up from below the windowsill, and a muffled voice announced, “I am the Cat Immortal, sent by Heaven’s mandate to warn you—Lu Qi is no good match. Union with him means a rocky road ahead; you will never see the Dao’s true fruit. Only one surnamed He is your proper match.”

Lin Zhuoyu: “…”

“Hm. Then might this Cat Immortal tell me—would the one surnamed He be my Senior Brother He?”

He Xing’s head popped up. “It’s me!”

Lin Zhuoyu glared. “He Shengzhi! Enough!”

Utterly wronged, He Xing released the spirit cat to amuse itself and slumped glumly against the windowsill. “Last month you told me that even if the Three Realms perished, you would never hold a Union with a man. And now? Not only are you forming a Dao Companion Pact, you’re scolding me over him! I can’t go on!”

Lin Zhuoyu shot him a look. “Little Qi and I are doing this because we have no choice. It’s not as if we’re really becoming Dao Companions.”

He Xing howled, “You’re already calling him that intimately! You’ve never once called me ‘Xing’!”

Lin Zhuoyu’s head ached from the noise. “Senior Brother, my heart is a mess right now. I need some quiet.”

Seeing the genuine weariness on his face, He Xing fished several bottles of spirit pills from his sleeve and set them on the windowsill, saying in a low voice, “Don’t stay angry at the Eldest Senior Brother—you two grew up together; you’re as close as close gets. Even I wanted to strangle that man surnamed Lu when I heard. Imagine how the Eldest Senior Brother felt. Right now your Shizun has him doing penance in the Cold Pond, and according to my Shizun, he’s been coughing up blood the whole time. Poor thing.”

The hand hanging at Lin Zhuoyu’s side tightened involuntarily. His thick lashes dipped, and he said quietly, “Don’t talk to me about him.”

He Xing pressed urgently, “Are you really going to break with the Eldest Senior Brother over a total stranger?! He loves you more than anyone!”

Lin Zhuoyu closed his eyes. “I don’t want to break with him. It’s just…”

He Xing watched him eagerly, waiting for the rest.

Lin Zhuoyu sighed. “Forget it. You wouldn’t understand. Go home.”

He Xing gave him a long, doleful look. “Right now you look exactly like some fool bewitched by a fox demon.”

Lin Zhuoyu: “?”

Lin Zhuoyu shot to his feet, slamming the table, fist already raised—and He Xing ducked his head and fled.

Left alone at the window, Lin Zhuoyu watched the peach blossoms drifting down outside, and for a long time, did not move.

No matter how He Xing hopped and hollered, the outcome would not change by a hair.

Five days later, Qingshan Qi had mostly recovered, and he and Lin Zhuoyu set out together for Deer Jade Terrace to form the Dao Companion Pact.

Daoist Lord Tongxu had no wish to broadcast the matter to the world—after all, it would all be undone in a month.

Fortunately, no one on Floating Jade Mountain was happy about Lin Zhuoyu becoming Dao Companion to a stranger either, and everyone would sooner let the matter rot in their own stomachs than breathe a word of it elsewhere.

Walking side by side, the two of them had just reached Deer Jade Terrace when they saw someone standing by the entrance in the distance, as if he had been waiting a long while.

Looking closer—it was Yan Su.

Rarely did Yan Su dress in black. He stood tall as a crane, like a sword about to leave its sheath, sharp and glacial, his face pale, his eyes like a dried-up well, utterly devoid of light.

At the sound of footsteps, Yan Su raised his eyes.

Lin Zhuoyu instinctively lifted a hand, shielding Qingshan Qi behind him.

Yan Su went rigid.

Only after making the gesture did Lin Zhuoyu belatedly realize how wary it looked, and lowered his hand.

Yesterday He Xing had chattered on about the Eldest Senior Brother exiting seclusion at Deer Jade Terrace. All this time without stirring up trouble for Qingshan Qi meant he surely wouldn’t attack again.

Yan Su’s grip tightened on the Wuyou Sword. Forcing himself not to look at the two of them standing shoulder to shoulder, he said in a low voice, “Zhuoyu. A word in private.”

“About what?”

When had Yan Su ever seen Lin Zhuoyu so distant? His chest ached so fiercely it felt near bursting. Struggling to steady himself, he said quietly, “Striking out at him the other day was my fault. You and I have known each other for years—will you not even hear your Senior Brother out?”

Lin Zhuoyu froze.

He had always been soft toward gentleness and unmoved by force. After a long hesitation, he nodded. “All right.”

Qingshan Qi lightly took hold of Lin Zhuoyu’s hand, worry written across his face as he slowly traced characters into his palm.

Lin Zhuoyu was puzzled.

After days of rest, Lu Qi’s voice had recovered enough that he’d managed a few words just now. Why write?

Qingshan Qi wrote very slowly, as if greedily drawing Lin Zhuoyu’s warmth into his own body, fingertip against palm in a touch that was ambiguous, lingering, intimate.

“I’ll wait for you.”

Yan Su stared fixedly at their joined hands. The Wuyou Sword hummed and trembled with its master’s fury, as if in the next instant it would leap from its sheath and sever that eyesore of a claw.

But he held himself back.

Lin Zhuoyu nodded to Qingshan Qi. “Mm. I’ll be right back.”

With that, he let go of his hand and walked toward Yan Su.

Qingshan Qi’s gaze chased involuntarily after Lin Zhuoyu’s retreating figure. Every separation brought an uncontrollable surge of fury and resentment.

The next instant, Yan Su’s tall frame stepped forward abruptly, blocking Lin Zhuoyu’s back completely—tension drawn taut and invisible between the two men, just as it had been the very first time they met.

Qingshan Qi’s face darkened.

Yan Su turned his head slightly to look at him, his eyes carrying a chill as if tempered in poison.