Chapter 15: The Phoenix Inheritance

◎Feng Beihe.◎

The Immortal Venerable had never cared for company—and he despised the Three Clans all the more for having once served the Vermilion Bird Immortal Venerable. Aside from the three Junior Venerables and the Yuanchu Presiding Venerable, no idle personnel had ever been permitted to set foot in the Nine Heavens.

Yun Shou asked in astonishment, “Everyone?”

The Immortal Venerable was in the best mood of his life, and patiently answered the stupid question. “Naturally.”

“But the Vermilion Crane Junior Venerable… is reportedly still ill and cannot leave Mid-Cloud Ridge,” Yun Shou hesitated. “And the Yuanchu Presiding Venerable…”

The Immortal Venerable’s face was sickly pale, yet he gently wiped the tears from Fu Yuqiu’s face, his mind clearly elsewhere. “Then have Yun Gui go along. If anyone refuses to come, execute them on the spot.”

Yun Shou: “…”

Fu Yuqiu: “????”

On the spot… execution?

Bewildered, Yun Shou withdrew.

Fu Yuqiu had forgotten all about crying. He tilted his head back and stared blankly up at the Immortal Venerable, unable to fathom what fresh madness this was.

“Feeling better?” The Immortal Venerable propped his cheek lazily on one hand, eyes downcast, meeting Fu Yuqiu’s gaze with a gaze so tender it was deadly—as if beholding a sweetheart mid-tantrum. “Sing me a little tune.”

Fu Yuqiu: “…”

Fu Yuqiu jolted, hastily shaking off the Living Yama’s sugar-coated shells, and glared at him with all the ferocity he could muster.

He still hadn’t forgotten the business of the Living Yama dragging the Phoenix back!

Besides—after he’d escaped the Nine Heavens once, the Living Yama was practically itching to set him off as fireworks. How could he possibly help him?

For all Fu Yuqiu knew, summoning everyone from the Drifting Path was just to indulge the man’s twisted whims.

Even so—if everyone on the Drifting Path came over, wouldn’t he get to see the three “Junior Venerables” directly, and spare himself rolling all the way to Mid-Cloud Ridge over five or six hundred years?

At that thought, much of Fu Yuqiu’s fury drained away—though he still refused to acknowledge the Living Yama.

The Immortal Venerable, unbothered, cradled Fu Yuqiu and carried him at an unhurried pace to the Nine Heavens’ main hall.

With the Living Yama present, Fu Yuqiu couldn’t run—and didn’t particularly want to.

The Immortal Venerable reclined on the cloud chair, elbow resting on the armrest, his not-yet-bound hair spilling loose, a few black strands draped carelessly across Fu Yuqiu’s tail feathers.

Fu Yuqiu was set down on the armrest, the Immortal Venerable’s layered sleeves and elbow at his back. He glanced back, then furiously shook those strands off.

Bad luck!

Yun Shou worked fast.

In less than a quarter of an hour, a disorderly yet hushed patter of footsteps sounded outside the hall, as if a crowd of people were tiptoeing in on leaden hearts.

Yun Shou entered. “Venerable One—all one hundred thirty-seven from the Drifting Path have arrived.”

Fu Yuqiu was genuinely surprised.

Weren’t the quarters on the Drifting Path reserved only for the Three Clans’ Junior Venerables and the Yuanchu Presiding Venerable? How were there this many?

The Immortal Venerable said lazily, “Enter in true form. Walk a circle.”

Yun Shou mumbled his assent, thinking privately: Such a fuss, summoning all these people—only to… walk a circle? Could the Venerable One be choosing a consort?

The Immortal Venerable’s temper was strange, mercurial, and murderous—everyone of the Three Clans knew this.

Summoned to the Nine Heavens without warning, the colorful birds and beasts fell silent as cicadas in winter, hearts in their throats, not daring to breathe too loudly for fear of being set alight as fireworks.

Like a flock of quavering quails, they shuffled clumsily into the hall, not even daring to raise their heads.

A few bolder confidants of the Three Clans’ Junior Venerables stole furtive glances up at the cloud chair—and all of them froze.

The white-robed Immortal Venerable seated there seemed an immortal descended, robes trailing onto the jade steps, noble and serene.

His interest in the “beast parade” below was lukewarm at best; his gaze rested on the tiny White Sparrow perched on the armrest, laughter curling at the corners of his lips. He looked…

Almost gentle.

Gentle?

A collective shiver ran through the crowd.

How could the Immortal Venerable possibly be gentle? Had terror driven them all mad?!

Fu Yuqiu noticed nothing of the Living Yama’s gaze.

He had no idea what the Immortal Venerable intended by all this, but that didn’t stop him from seizing the chance to find Feng Beihe.

The Drifting Path was full of birds, and Fu Yuqiu’s eyes didn’t blink as they tracked each bird and beast filing past.

But he stared himself blind at all those dazzling, multicolored plumes and never once caught a familiar aura.

The Immortal Venerable drummed his fingers lightly on the armrest, then called Yun Shou again. “Assume human form. Walk through once more.”

“…” The corner of Yun Shou’s mouth twitched. “As you command.”

Fu Yuqiu, who had been wilting, instantly perked up.

Human form!

He despised humans and was hopeless with faces—but Feng Beihe’s detestable face was branded into his memory.

He remembered it perfectly!

The bewildered birds and beasts shifted into human shapes and marched through the hall again, stiff as puppets.

A moment later, Fu Yuqiu wilted once more.

Feng Beihe wasn’t among them.

The Immortal Venerable regarded the drooping, leaf-wilted sparrow, was silent a moment, then said, “Where are the Junior Venerables and the Presiding Venerable?”

Yun Shou: “Waiting in the side hall.”

Understandable—for the three Junior Venerables and the Presiding Venerable to be mixed into this “consort selection” would amount to humiliation. Naturally, they refused.

The Immortal Venerable said flatly, “Summon them.”

Yun Shou bowed his assent.

Before long, four people came slowly from the side hall.

Fu Yuqiu craned his neck to look.

The first to arrive was the familiar green-robed man from Fu Yuqiu’s memories. His features resembled Qingxi’s, his bearing gentle, a mark of the Azure Luan Clan on his cheek.

—The Azure Luan Junior Venerable, Feng Xingyun.

Fu Yuqiu’s mouth twisted.

So it had been Feng Xingyun who sent him to assassinate the Immortal Venerable.

Not a good bird, that one.

Next came a somber man in black robes, so dim and diminished he walked with his head hanging.

—No idea who that was.

Fu Yuqiu’s gaze moved to the third.

If the second man was a dull gray stone, the third was a luminous night pearl.

The young man wore a gorgeous robe of bright yellow layered over red, his long black hair braided over his shoulders and studded with clusters of dewy, vivid blossoms.

That face was devastatingly beautiful—and when he flashed a radiant smile at the Immortal Venerable, it only grew more stunning.

—No idea who that was either.

Fu Yuqiu’s gaze shifted to the last person, and he faltered slightly.

The man in black wore an expression of perfect indifference, his face sickly pale as if recovering from grave illness. His features were completely different from the face in Fu Yuqiu’s memory.

Was this Feng Beihe?

For a moment Fu Yuqiu was lost, not quite daring to believe it.

The four reached the foot of the hall and knelt in reverent salute.

“We greet Venerated Father.”

The Immortal Venerable observed Fu Yuqiu’s dumbstruck stare fixed on Feng Beihe, and arched a brow. “Feng Beihe. Take your true form.”

Feng Beihe’s brow creased.

The Immortal Venerable always spoke to them in that tone one used for a cherished pet—as if the Junior Venerables were no different from the songbirds and White Sparrows that performed in the Nine Heavens.

Even so, Feng Beihe had no choice but to comply.

A plume of deep-blue flame surged up, and a magnificent Vermilion Crane stood in his place.

“What are your orders, Venerated Father?”

The Immortal Venerable ignored him, eyes lowered toward the White Sparrow on the armrest.

The sparrow gave no visible reaction, yet his whole body had gone rigid, down feathering silently on end as he stared at the Vermilion Crane with something close to bewilderment.

From the moment the Immortal Venerable had spoken the name “Beihe,” Fu Yuqiu had frozen solid.

It was all an act—that was what Feng Beihe, under the alias Wind Beihe, had said, and he hadn’t lied.

The human identity was fake. The grave injuries were fake. The name was fake. Even that face was fake.

It was all an act.

An act…

Before seeing Feng Beihe again, the mere thought of that name had sent Fu Yuqiu’s fury soaring—he’d cursed and spat and wished his soul scattered to the winds.

But now that he had actually found him, Fu Yuqiu’s mind was strangely, eerily calm.

—He didn’t even understand why he was this calm.

Fu Yuqiu stood rooted in place, staring blankly at that beautiful, resplendent Vermilion Crane.

His chest felt hollowed out, as if every emotion had been scooped away.

Until…

Two tears slid slowly down from his reddened eyes.

The Immortal Venerable’s brow knit.

Fu Yuqiu… Fu Yuqiu had been cried into tears by anger again.

That calm upon seeing Feng Beihe wasn’t detachment or a lack of will for vengeance—it was rage burning too hot to process.

Fu Yuqiu simply hadn’t caught up with himself.

By the time a blazing fire spread from his chest through every limb and bone, boring straight into the marrow of his skull, Fu Yuqiu was already burning with wrath, tears surging out beyond all control.

If not for him…

If not for Feng Beihe, he would still be living safe and sound in Secluded Sound Valley—still had his beautiful Little Leaf that sprouted tender buds, sheltered by every flower and tree in the valley, bound by no one’s chains, not scraping out a fearful existence under another’s roof.

That long-suppressed grievance and fury erupted all at once.

Fu Yuqiu had no idea how to vent it, and he cried far too easily when angered. Before long, those spineless tears had soaked his feathers.

The Immortal Venerable looked down at Fu Yuqiu weeping beyond all restraint, his eyes darkening, thoughts unreadable.

Fury blackened Fu Yuqiu’s vision.

He hiccupped out a sob—and the world spun, pitching him straight off the armrest.

But before he could hit the ground, a hand reached out and caught him, effortless as anything, in its palm.

Fu Yuqiu looked half-dead, on the verge of fainting at any moment, his two little claws still trembling faintly, kicking now and then.

He was probably the only being in all the Three Realms capable of angering himself halfway into the heavens.

Feng Beihe frowned at the Immortal Venerable’s gesture—and at this White Sparrow inexplicably weeping.

This sparrow carried the Linked Azure Water, yet the Immortal Venerable still hadn’t killed it?

What were the Azure Luan playing at now?

The Immortal Venerable set the boneless sparrow on his knee and said flatly, “Change back. You’re frightening him.”

Feng Beihe: “…”

This was the first time the Immortal Venerable had ever spoken to him so coldly.

All for a White Sparrow?

Once the fiercest blaze of rage had burned through him, Fu Yuqiu finally recovered a little. Swaying, he stood up on the Immortal Venerable’s knee and looked down his nose at Feng Beihe.

“I’m not leaving the Nine Heavens anymore. If it’s singing they want, I’ll sing. If it’s chirping, I’ll chirp.” Fu Yuqiu had finally found his life’s purpose, and thought coldly, If I can’t kill him, I’ll take his surname.

Feng Beihe considered briefly, and dimly grasped where he might have offended the Immortal Venerable.

“Venerated Father—I’ve gained a lead on the matter of the White Snake entering the Nine Heavens. Years ago, I led our people in exterminating the Snake Clan to the last. Only a few escaped to Painted Screen Snow Mountain.”

Painted Screen Snow Mountain—the Peacock Junior Venerable’s territory.

At these words, the somber man who’d kept his head lowered the whole time lifted it slightly. The Peacock Junior Venerable, Feng Xuesheng, said flatly, “You’re saying I sheltered the Snake Clan?”

Before Feng Beihe could answer, Feng Xuesheng answered himself, “A piece of trash like me—where would I find the nerve to defy Venerated Father?”

Feng Beihe: “…”

Fu Yuqiu: “…”

First time he’d ever seen a man call himself trash.

This Peacock Junior Venerable was quite the character.

The Immortal Venerable, dabbing at Fu Yuqiu’s tears all the while, listened idly to the bickering below and said, offhandedly, “No need to argue over such trifles.”

Everyone froze.

Trifles?

The Immortal Venerable despised the Snake Clan so thoroughly he’d gladly butcher every snake in the mortal realm—and now it was a trifle?

Then what counted as a matter?

The Immortal Venerable glanced at Fu Yuqiu, brow creasing faintly.

The White Sparrow stood on his knee, glaring coldly at Feng Beihe, the anger-bred tears still streaming unstoppable down his face, looking as though he’d suffered the greatest injustice under heaven.

Something seemed to occur to the Immortal Venerable, and he abruptly smiled. Raising a hand, he summoned the bloodstained Phoenix Plume—and with a flick of his fingertip, Spiritual Power surged wantonly, and the plume flared with golden-red radiance.

“This plume carries half of the Phoenix Inheritance.”

The Immortal Venerable idly rolled his forefinger, letting the plume bearing the Phoenix Inheritance dance between his fingers. “As I said before—the successive inheritances of the Phoenix Ruins belong to whichever of you has the strength to claim them.”

The crowd, heads hanging until now, snapped up as one.

Fu Yuqiu too stared upward, dazed, tears he couldn’t stop dripping down with every tilt of his head, pattering one after another.

The Phoenix… Inheritance?

The Vermilion Crane, the Peacock, the Azure Luan—even the Yuanchu, who took no part in the Three Clans’ rivalry—every clan carried some trace of Phoenix blood.

Whoever obtained half the Phoenix Inheritance would leave every other clan a hundred streets behind—not only in cultivation, but in standing, in bloodline itself.

The Golden Plumes the Immortal Venerable ordinarily bestowed were mere vessels wrapped around his own Spiritual Power.

And even a thousand Golden Plumes couldn’t measure against half the Phoenix Inheritance.

Feng Xingyun, silent until now, lifted his head, his clear voice falling like a spring breeze.

“Does Venerated Father have some trouble on his mind, that he needs us to ease it?”

Even Feng Xuesheng—the Peacock Junior Venerable who never fought for anything and considered himself a piece of trash—raised his head, eyes locked unblinking on the Immortal Venerable.

Feng Beihe, whose ambition ran deepest of all, clenched his fingers hard, regarding the White Sparrow on the Immortal Venerable’s knee with cold indifference.

A dead hush fell over the hall. Every eye turned to the Immortal Venerable.

“Whichever of you can cheer up my little sparrow…”

The Immortal Venerable cupped the tear-soaked Fu Yuqiu in his palms, speaking as if mentioning some trivial nothing, his gaze on the sparrow brimming with tenderness.

“…half the Phoenix Inheritance will be theirs.”

Fu Yuqiu: “…”

The four: “???”