Chapter 12

Siming pinched his fingers to calculate for a moment, his voice laced with surprise. "The Yellow Emperor’s inheritance... No wonder the Ancient Battlefield wouldn't let him go."

With a flick of his finger, the scene of the Ancient Battlefield vanished from sight. "Countless people have visited the Zhuolu battlefield over the years, yet he is the only one who has received the inheritance. The inheritance of the Primordial Sages is not so easily obtained. This boy’s fate is fraught with trials; fortune and misfortune are intertwined. It is hard to say whether this is a blessing or a curse."

Siming recognized this as Li Zheguang, who had been the talk of the town at the recent Hundred Schools Banquet. He smiled, "In that case, let us grant him the token. Heavenly Venerate, perhaps in the future, our human race will see another Immortal Venerate rise."

The Heavenly Venerate did not look at him. Siming followed his gaze, which rested upon the slumbering young girl. After a long silence, he heard him ask, "Who was sent to Wei City?"

Siming shifted his gaze, brushed his sleeves, and answered with composed grace, "The Weak Water Sword."

Once the "Heaven-Stealing and Earth-Shifting" formation was activated, the demons of Wei City would have no time to react. When the Drink-Snow Sect, which had been stationed there, was wiped out, they had managed to send out the map of Wei City in their final moments. This map detailed the terrain, mountain ranges, and the flow of spiritual veins in and around the city—the final struggle of a fallen fortress.

A hundred years later, this map had fallen into the hands of the world’s most exquisite array master, allowing her to manifest the formation of Wei City from across thousands of mountains and rivers. This was a confrontation a century in the making, a duel between the Sages and the Demon Lord. The formation could not displace the powerful demon lords; the true arch-fiends remained hidden within the city, waiting for the human race to send someone in. And the one representing the Sages to head to that fallen land was one of the Four Great Sword Masters.

The Northern Sword Master, the Weak Water Sword.

The white-haired Venerable finally lifted his eyes to look at him. His gaze was lofty and piercing, like unmelted snow—cold and biting. It was not directed at anyone in particular; it was merely a glance cast from the supreme clouds down to the mortal realm. How could one of the heavens possess personal feelings? He watched Siming, whose smile remained unchanged.

Until a slight movement caused them both to look aside. The girl slumped over the table seemed trapped in a nightmare, her face pale, biting her lower lip, her chest heaving violently.

The Heavenly Venerate reached out and lightly tapped her forehead. She soon grew calm, even nuzzling against his finger with an air of attachment.

Siming said, "I know what you are worried about. The Weak Water Sword is too young; the Northern Sword Master has only existed for a few years... but only the Weak Water Sword can reclaim that city."

The Heavenly Venerate did not look at him, nor did he seem to be listening. There were not many people in this world worth his pause. After all, he was the backbone of humanity, the world’s foremost sword cultivator and teacher. The hand that was the best in the world was currently being hugged by his daughter; the hand that could repel a million-strong demon army could not be pulled away at this moment.

Siming continued, "Hidden Mountain never easily picks a side. They know the consequences of attacking a Sword Master, so as soon as a bounty to investigate the Sword Master appeared, they sold the information to us."

"One truly cannot underestimate that nest of assassins. There isn't a simple soul among them," Siming said with a leisurely smile.

Night had deepened, and the candlelight flickered. The girl, who had been sleeping soundly, stirred and groggily opened her eyes. Seeing her father still engaged in his game, she felt at ease and slumped back down.

The sky was clear, and Wei City was peaceful.

The main road stretched toward the sky, with travelers keeping to their own sides.

Seeing the city gates wide open in the distance, the man carrying a sword stopped. He looked like an ordinary, weary traveler. He sat at a nearby tea stall and asked the tea master, whose ears could not be hidden, "Is there a funeral ahead?"

The tea master nodded, saying vaguely, "A joyous funeral, a joyous funeral."

"A joyous funeral?" The man became interested. He watched the small demon, who was trembling incessantly, with amusement. Suddenly, his expression tightened. A procession walked out from the empty city. The two at the front played pipes and suonas, dressed in mourning clothes and holding funeral staffs, performing with such vigor that their two-man team managed to conjure the presence of a thousand-strong army. White funeral banners fluttered in the wind, and in just a few moments, they reached him.

Looking closely, the two wore diametrically opposed masks—one a weeping face, the other a smiling one. They were tall and gaunt, their arms reaching down to their knees, their white mourning robes hanging from empty sleeves. Sharp, shrill laughter erupted.

"Who goes there?"

The two funeral performers looked at each other and burst into laughter.

The weeping-mask said, "The Venerable of No Sorrow."

The smiling-mask said, "The Venerable of No Joy."

"Why block the path?"

The weeping-mask said, "By the Master's order."

The smiling-mask said, "To take your dog life."

"State your names!"

The weeping and smiling masks spoke in unison.

The sword-carrying man drew his blade abruptly. "Rare, the Demon Gate’s 'Venerable of Impermanence' is actually two people."

No Sorrow and No Joy combined to make the Venerable of Impermanence.

Splendid waters descended from the heavens, and surging waves swallowed the mountains.

The sword momentum struck like a giant wave, a long rainbow piercing the sun, shattering the hundred-year peace of Wei City. The suona music ceased, and the two Venerables of Impermanence cried out in panic, "Oh no!"

The Venerable of No Sorrow said, "This guy is strong!"

The Venerable of No Joy said, "This is the Weak Water Sword!"

"How dare you be distracted while fighting?" The Weak Water Sword stood between them, its sword intent flowing like a mountain river, pouring down.

The Venerable of No Sorrow clutched his head and fled. "No Joy, my life is over!"

The Venerable of No Joy watched the fire from across the river and laughed, "No Sorrow, run faster!"

The Weak Water Sword sent a beam of light their way. "Do I look so approachable? Who gave you permission to watch the fun?"

The Venerable of No Joy jumped around. "Help! Murdering a demon!"

The Weak Water Sword was amused by these two unlucky fools. "To think you are Venerables of the Demon Gate. Was Wei City really captured by you two?"

The Venerables of Impermanence spoke in unison: "That was the work of 'Blood-Clad Absolute'! It has nothing to do with us. Why are you spouting nonsense?"

The Venerable of No Sorrow lamented, "Snow falling in June!"

The Venerable of No Joy raged, "Slander!"

Weak Water Sword: "..."

Words were wasted; a sweep of the sword light overturned the coffin they had been hiding behind, revealing the person lying inside. The Weak Water Sword glanced at it—a man in black lay within. Strangely, he also wore a mask, with a fierce, fanged face, and a red string was wound around the middle finger of his right hand.

Suddenly, the silent man in the coffin didn't stay quiet; he performed a carp-leap out of the box. A perfect "corpse-rising," a perfect jump from the coffin.

The ghost-masked man stretched his limbs and looked at him. The two unlucky fools who had disgraced the Demon Gate immediately hid behind him, their voices suddenly regaining their vigor as if they had found a backer.

The Venerables of Impermanence shouted: "Go, Night Owl!"

Hearing this, Night Owl turned his head, his gaze seemingly heavy.

The Weak Water Sword smiled. "Oh? Three against one. Who might you be, friend?"

"...Baili Xiao," the ghost-masked man said in a low voice.

***

The Weak Water Sword raised an eyebrow. "You know me? Have we met?"

Night Owl laughed lowly, a smile that was inexplicably dangerous. "I know you."

"Back then, when you tried to pry my wall and failed, and wanted to elope with my wife while I was away... tsk, I should have cut you down long ago."

Baili Xiao, the Weak Water Sword, listened to this man's "nonsense" with a sense of bewilderment. Who would steal your wife for no reason? Is your wife a celestial beauty? Before he could react, the two disgraceful fools began whispering excitedly, "So Night Owl's wife was stolen by this guy."

"A pretty boy, only good at coaxing women."

"Nothing good learned."

"Tsk."

"Tsk."

Night Owl and Baili Xiao both slapped out simultaneously, then retreated a hundred meters away from each other.

Wei City was right before his eyes.

A black shadow struck at him. Baili Xiao instinctively slashed with his sword, but his movement froze in the next instant.

What had been thrown at him was a boy.

By all accounts, he was a perfectly normal mortal child... How could there be living people in this demon den of Wei City?

His body moved faster than his mind to catch the child. Baili Xiao looked up at the ghost-masked man standing on the city wall. Only then did he see it clearly: the wall was filled with people kneeling in dense rows.

Mortals.

The Weak Water Sword was humming.

In these brief moments, Baili Xiao realized that his mission had failed; Wei City could not be reclaimed.

This man knew the weakness of the Weak Water Sword.

The Northern Sword, the Weak Water Sword, was a sword of compassion.

The ghost-masked man kicked the mortals off the wall one by one without expression.

"Clang—"

The Weak Water Sword unsheathed itself automatically, ignoring its master's will to catch the mortals falling like scattered flower petals.

Baili Xiao’s expression was dark and uncertain.

The Weak Water Sword was a sword of compassion...

In common parlance, it was a "Saint Mother" sword.

A neurotic sword that would stop to help an old lady if she fell.

Everything—the status of Sword Master, the mission—vanished into smoke. Baili Xiao turned and walked away without a word.

Broken sword, go live the rest of your life with the people you saved.

Night Owl laughed softly, "Without your sword, do you think you can return alive?"

Baili Xiao looked back, meeting his gaze from afar, and after a long time, he curled his lips coldly.

...

I have been sleeping very well these past few days. I suspect it is because the Jixia Academy is a holy site, so even my sleep has become sweet. Not only that, I saw Senior Sister Yingzhen, complete and without missing any limbs; it seems she wasn't punished and is doing quite well.

However, I have been troubled lately. Phoenix sat on a stone chair, watching me melancholily digging into fruit pulp with a small spoon. He said lazily, "What’s wrong with you lately? Why do you keep avoiding Fuguang?"

I was startled. "Is it that obvious?"

Phoenix confirmed, "You might as well have it written on your face."

I panicked. "Then, then did Senior Brother notice it too..."

Phoenix was speechless. "He’s not blind."

I didn't know how to express my thoughts to him. Actually, I also felt that being this way toward Senior Brother Fuguang wasn't very nice, but... I couldn't tell him that my mood always inexplicably dipped whenever I saw Senior Brother Fuguang, like a small thorn pricking my heart. This had never happened before, but this habit had appeared ever since my last bout of illness.

Feeling low, I bit into a snack I bought at the market... The food down the mountain was indeed better than on the mountain. This pastry was truly delicious; I’ll have Senior Brother buy me more next time.

After struggling for a while, I decided to go find Senior Brother Fuguang. He had pampered me since I was a child; all my needs—clothing, food, shelter, and travel—were handled by him. My distancing myself from him was truly unfair to him.

After deciding, I specifically packed the remaining snacks in a food box and went to find Senior Brother Fuguang. As I arrived at his door, it opened. Senior Brother looked at me calmly, seemingly asking why I had come.

I held the food box before me, looking at him eagerly. We stared at each other for a moment before Fuguang moved aside. I cheered and rushed into his room, impatiently opening the box to place it before him.

"Senior Brother, have a taste." I picked up a particularly nice-looking pastry and handed it to him. Fuguang took it but didn't eat it, so I stared at him unblinkingly.

Under my persistent gaze, Fuguang finally took a bite. He asked, "What do you want?"

I was stunned. I realized that whenever I had a request for my Eldest Senior Brother in the past, I would approach him like this, so he must have thought I wanted something again.

"I don't want anything," I shook my head. "I just wanted to come see you."

How did that sound like visiting an empty-nester...

I looked at Senior Brother Fuguang’s youthful face and said cautiously, "Senior Brother, I, I didn't mean to do it before."

Fuguang lowered his head. "What?"

"I didn't mean to spill the medicine on you." My voice grew lower and lower, and I lowered my head. I suddenly remembered many things from my childhood. When I was small, I was sickly and couldn't go out often, so Senior Brother Fuguang would bring me many trinkets from down the mountain. Most were meant for mortals, as the cultivators' markets didn't sell them; he had gone to the mortal markets specifically to buy them for me.

Back then, he would sit at my bedside and read to me. If I didn't want to listen to dry cultivation techniques, he would tell me interesting travelogues and stories, and I would fall asleep listening to them, and Senior Brother Fuguang would quietly leave my bedside.

"Senior Brother!"

Fuguang seemed dazed, not understanding why I had suddenly become teary-eyed. I threw myself into his arms and wailed, "I will definitely be filial to you in the future!"

"..."

Fuguang maintained a calm expression as he pushed me away. "No need, just take good care of yourself."

I looked at him, choking back sobs. He sighed helplessly. "Xiwēi, as long as you are safe and sound, we will all be relieved."

"Then hurry and taste this pastry."

"..."

Under my hopeful gaze, Fuguang finally took a bite. Although it was only one bite, I was overjoyed, left the food box in his room, and ran off.

After this experience, I felt that the subtle rift between Senior Brother Fuguang and me had been repaired, so I set my heart at ease and watched the final trial of the Hundred Schools Banquet with Phoenix.

"The results will be out tomorrow," Phoenix muttered. "Are the demons of Wei City that weak? It feels like this formation was wasted."

I was concentrating on searching for the protagonist in the mirror. I hadn't seen Li Zheguang since the first day; the protagonist didn't know which corner of the Ancient Battlefield he had run off to.

Though it seemed fine that way; at least the protagonist and the villain hadn't collided.

"By tomorrow, these demons will be mostly wiped out, and the third trial of the Hundred Schools Banquet will end. Let’s see who will be crowned the champion; perhaps they will even catch the eye of a Sage." Phoenix poked me as I continued to stare at the mirror. "Come to think of it, I never asked, is there anyone you know in the Zhuolu battlefield? Why do you keep staring at it?"

I shook my head quickly, fearing Phoenix might see something, and ran off. Distracted, I bumped into someone and was caught just as I was about to fall. Siming held my shoulders and said, "Careful."

I apologized in a panic. "I, I'm sorry... Uncle Wen."

Wen Chao Siming smiled kindly. "Are you going to see the Heavenly Venerate?"

I shook my head. I didn't dare disturb my father when I had nothing to do.

I thought for a moment and then asked shyly, "Uncle Wen, do you know how I can find my 'destined love'?"

Siming’s white hair danced in the wind, making him look even more like a master beyond the world. He was wearing a grey robe today, the hem of the sleeves embroidered with gold thread, his every movement transcendental. He looked at me and smiled without a word.

I guessed that someone like him, who managed so many causes and effects, couldn't reveal too much—something about "Heavenly secrets must not be leaked"—so I wasn't too disappointed. I said, "Goodbye, Uncle Wen," and ran off.

Siming watched the young girl running away. He slowly patted his sleeve, and a long, pitch-black hair fell out—slender and soft, just like its owner. The black hair fell into his palm, and he wound it around his index finger. As it wrapped, it began to change, finally turning into a red string that filled the void on his finger. All ten of his fingers were now wound with red strings.

Siming clenched and then opened his palm. He lowered his head slightly and brought the red string on his index finger to his lips. The curve of his lips widened silently.

Yan Sheng searched for a long time before finding him. He immediately saw that the stolen red string had been replaced, so he asked, "Did you refine another 'One-Thread Tie'?"

Wen Chao Siming smiled and nodded. "This one won't fall off so easily."

Yan Sheng looked suspicious. "You... you look very happy."

Siming did not deny it. He stroked the red string on his index finger and replied in a good mood, "Prepare to head back."

Yan Sheng looked at him speechlessly. "What exactly did you come here for? You went out once and had a 'life-line' stolen, didn't bother to catch the thief, haven't finished watching the Hundred Schools Banquet, and now you want to go back? Did you come out just to watch the fun?"

"Watching the fun is quite enjoyable," Siming said seriously.

Yan Sheng was speechless.

...

Yingzhen stayed by her master's side. She watched her nose, her heart, and her breath without a word. Standing before her was a young man with a delicate appearance.

This was a Sage.

The Sage was named Heng Jian, belonging to the School of Names. He wore high-soled shoes and ancient Chu-style clothing from hundreds of years ago, adorned with colorful butterfly motifs, jade pendants at his waist, and silver ornaments on his earlobes, neck, and wrists. Even his tongue was studded with a silver stone.

"The Weak Water Sword failed. Lord Tianzhu was well-prepared. Now, Wei City is just an empty shell. Those 'stolen' over by the 'Heaven-Stealing and Earth-Shifting' formation were all abandoned pawns. The elite of the Demon Gate are not in Wei City."

Yingzhen was a bit worried about whether he would bite his tongue on the silver stone while speaking. Sage Heng Jian continued, "It is time for the various schools to clean up their own disciples, otherwise we won't even know how the information leaked. My informant from that side reports that the Demon Lord has gained a new general, but hasn't given him a title. He hasn't been sealed as an 'Absolute' or a 'Venerable,' as if they are deliberately protecting his information. It was he who stopped the Weak Water Sword this time."

—Night Owl.

Whether it was a real name or a fake one, he always wore a ghost mask. His methods were ruthless and unscrupulous. He seemed to appear out of thin air, disrupting the Sages' layout and even nearly causing the Weak Water Sword to fall at the border.

Tricky. Formidable.

Yingzhen instantly formed an assessment of this new Demon Gate talent.

The Heavenly Venerate asked, "Who saved the Weak Water Sword?"

Sage Heng Jian said slowly, "The First Talent of Hidden Mountain."

Yingzhen was startled. Hidden Mountain was an assassin organization. It wasn't famous, but it wasn't low-profile either; it was filled with desperate outlaws, each with some blood on their hands.

Hidden Mountain had a bad reputation because every time it appeared, it was accompanied by blood and carnage. It was said that during the Warring States period a thousand years ago, the King of Qin was tyrannical, and Crown Prince Dan of Yan secretly summoned the world's talents to plot to assassinate the King of Qin. The ending, of course, was well-known: Qin unified the six states, and the State of Yan was destroyed.

But the organization that Crown Prince Dan created to assassinate the King of Qin had survived to this day: Hidden Mountain. The ten most formidable assassins in Hidden Mountain were known as the "Ten Talents of Hidden Mountain," and the first among them was the "First Talent."

Legend had it that the first "First Talent" when Hidden Mountain was founded was Jing Ke.

Hidden Mountain was not a sect of immortals, but it didn't serve the Demon Gate either. It only worked for money; it listened to whoever paid the most. Yingzhen guessed that the Sages had likely paid a high price to buy back the life of the Weak Water Sword.

She wanted to laugh a little. Who on earth was this Night Owl, to force the Sages to seek out an assassin from Hidden Mountain to save the Weak Water Sword?

Sage Heng Jian did not stay long. After he left, logically, Yingzhen should have left too, but she hesitated and turned back to ask, "Master... Xiwēi said that you wouldn't let her choose Fuguang. Senior Brother Fuguang should be the most suitable person for her."

The air was silent for a moment before the Heavenly Venerate’s faint voice was heard.

"His heart is incomplete."

Whose?

Fuguang’s?

Yingzhen dared not ask further and withdrew.