Futile Devices Scans

“Cough… how have you been?” Xie Youlan’s gaze drifted uncertainly around Cheng Yu’s shoulder, unwilling to look at him directly as he awkwardly asked, “Have you been doing alright lately?”

Yugong Zhaoye thought, What a rare sight. Palace Master Xie, who can curse someone for half an hour without repeating himself, is actually stammering. Truly, the wheel of fortune turns for everyone.

Utterly amazed, he reminded them faintly from the side, “Is this really the time for catching up?”

Xie Youlan’s awkwardness was so unlike an “evil sect overlord” that for a moment Cheng Yu almost felt as though he were the scoundrel who had toyed with someone else’s feelings. Unable to help himself, he laughed softly. “I’ve been quite well. And you?”

Xie Youlan lowered his voice. “I’m alright.”

Yugong Zhaoye: “If you have nothing to say, then stop forcing the conversation—”

Xie Youlan completely ignored the background noise. He darted another glance at Cheng Yu before quickly looking away again, as if Cheng Yu were too hot to touch. “You came this time… was it to see me? Did you have something you wanted to say to me?”

Cheng Yu exchanged a look with Yugong Zhaoye. His smile carried a trace of apologetic embarrassment as he answered seriously, “At His Highness’s request, I heard that you intended to search the depths of Yun Lake for Baisha Island. Since the Changchu Sect is located in Cangqiu Mountain, north of Lu County, I am very familiar with the area, so I volunteered to accompany you. If I can be of assistance to His Highness and the Palace Master, then all the better.”

The answer was tactful, courteous, and impeccably measured—at the very least, it successfully soothed Xie Youlan.

Only after a pause did he remember to put on airs again. “I see… then… let’s go.”

Yugong Zhaoye: “What else were we supposed to do?!”

Cheng Yu carefully finished the bowl of coarse tea that barely tasted like tea at all. Then he pulled a few copper coins from his money pouch and paid a single coin for the drink.

Seeing the pouch caved in from emptiness, Xie Youlan could not help frowning critically again. “You’re poor as hell. You’re the head of a sect, yet you can’t even afford a decent pot of tea. Where exactly is all your money going?”

“Well, as you said, I am the sect leader.” Cheng Yu’s eyes curved warmly as he smiled at him. “Keeping a sect alive is very expensive.”

That smile was bright and guileless, carrying a candid innocence that made one instinctively want to pity him.

It shook Xie Youlan badly enough that his soul practically flew away.

He abruptly turned his head aside, subconsciously avoiding something even more dangerous than a drawn blade. Lowering his gaze, he muttered stubbornly, though without much confidence, “Beizhu Palace isn’t poor enough to end up like that…”

Yugong Zhaoye felt his fists itching. Unable to endure any longer, he snapped, “How can he compare with someone sitting on a mountain of wealth like you?!”

Xie Youlan automatically filtered out his voice entirely, pretending not to hear a thing.

Cheng Yu remained perfectly unbothered. “Beizhu Palace has deep roots and immense influence. A tiny sect like ours naturally cannot compare with Your Palace.”

Xie Youlan waved a hand impatiently. “Forget it. Enough talk. Let’s go.”

You were the one who brought it up first!

Completely ignored, Yugong Zhaoye turned toward Ying Yue in confusion. “Is it just me, or do I suddenly feel like I no longer exist?”

Ying Yue replied earnestly, “This is normal. It’s the same whenever Your Highness and Chancellor Wei are together.”

Yugong Zhaoye: “…Who asked you?”

Ying Yue: “…”

“…Was that just my imagination? I think I hallucinated hearing something.”

“This place is still some distance from the Yun Lake ferry crossing,” Cheng Yu smoothly interjected, steering the topic back on course before it wandered too far astray. “We can talk as we travel. Please.”

The four mounted their horses and rode northward, bypassing the county city and heading into the mountain forests.

Unlike his cold, solitary demeanor on the journey here, Xie Youlan now automatically rode side by side with Cheng Yu. Yugong Zhaoye and Ying Yue fell a pace behind them. The two exchanged glances, wanting to laugh but not daring to, so they simply slowed their horses and silently followed behind, looking everywhere except at the pair ahead.

Previously, all communication with Dongyu and the arrangements for the guide had been handled personally by Yugong Zhaoye using his own contacts. Ying Yue knew nothing about Cheng Yu, so he quietly asked, “Your Highness, earlier I heard Young Master Cheng is the leader of the Changchu Sect. Forgive my ignorance, but I’ve never heard of the sect before…”

Xie Youlan had bluntly called it a rundown sect, but Ying Yue did not dare take that at face value. He held no contempt; he merely feared accidentally offending Cheng Yu through ignorance.

Knowing Ying Yue’s cautious personality, Yugong Zhaoye’s lips curved into a sly smile. “‘Young Master Cheng’ isn’t the proper form of address. You should call him ‘Senior Cheng,’ or ‘Sect Leader Cheng.’”

Ying Yue inwardly rejoiced at the near miss. “So he’s a senior.”

Yugong Zhaoye asked, “How old do you think he is?”

Earlier, Ying Yue had only caught a brief glimpse of him. Cheng Yu looked handsome and graceful, without any visible trace of age—like a youthful nobleman. He guessed cautiously, “Twenty-five? Twenty-six?”

Yugong Zhaoye sighed. “Those eyes of his are far too deceptive. He doesn’t look old at all. He’s already thirty this year. Hard to believe, isn’t it?”

“Completely… impossible to tell.”

Ying Yue himself was only nineteen. Cheng Yu was eleven years older than him, yet looked even younger than Yugong Zhaoye.

“When he first became famous in Longsha, we were still called Bihua,” Yugong Zhaoye said. “He was the previous Shuo Yue. Back then, he personally brought Helan Zhenjia’s head back to Bihan City. Even I have to address him as a senior.”

Ying Yue blurted out in shock, “He was Shuo Yue?!”

Yeguang’s organizational structure had been inherited from Bihua. The core members possessed nine codenames corresponding to the nine phases of the moon, while their subordinates used the constellations of the heavens as titles.

After Bihua collapsed, nearly all of its previous core members scattered. Years later, when Yugong Zhaoye rebuilt Yeguang, he personally took the title Hui Yue. Of the remaining eight positions, only Jin Han, codenamed Wang Yue, and Lan Xian, codenamed Shang Xian, were veterans of the old Bihua. Everyone else was a newcomer Yugong Zhaoye had tricked, conned, or dragged back himself.

Lu Ci, the current Shuo Yue, was an explosive little rooster who flared up at the slightest provocation and inevitably fought with Kui Yue whenever they met. Ying Yue had suffered deeply because of them. He simply could not reconcile the calm, refined Cheng Yu with that title and genuinely could not imagine how glorious Bihua’s old days must have been.

“After leaving Bihua, he wandered the jianghu with no fixed destination. I heard that when he passed through Cangqiu Mountain, he was accidentally injured and happened to be rescued by disciples of the Changchu Sect, who let him remain there to recover.”

“The Changchu Sect never had much money to begin with. The sect leader had adopted many abandoned peasant children, and just the cost of feeding and clothing them had already drained the sect’s savings. Unfortunately, none of the children possessed much talent, so the entire sect was made up of the old, the weak, the sick, and the disabled.”

“With elderly members above and children below, the sect was practically half-dead. Even their ancestral mountain was on the verge of being seized by the neighboring Moyun Sect. Young Hero Cheng had received a great kindness from them and couldn’t bear to stand by and do nothing, so he stayed voluntarily to help. Of course, the Moyun Sect’s rabble were nowhere near enough to challenge him. By now he’s helped so much he’s become the sect leader himself.”

Ying Yue looked toward the figure ahead. Seated upright upon his horse, Cheng Yu’s back was lean and straight. His old clothes and bamboo hat were meticulously maintained, without the slightest trace of shabbiness. Instead, his entire person radiated a calm resilience and detached serenity.

Yugong Zhaoye’s tone remained light and casual throughout, almost as though recounting hearsay, yet Ying Yue—who rarely heard him praise anyone—still caught a subtle trace of admiration hidden within those few simple sentences.

“If Bihua’s dissolution was unavoidable, then now that Your Highness commands Yeguang and still keeps in contact with Senior Cheng… why didn’t you invite him back?”

Yugong Zhaoye turned his head to glance at him, sounding faintly amused. “Do you think Yeguang is such a wonderful place?”

Ying Yue did not even stop to think about why he was asking. “Of course it is.”

That soft laugh drifted clearly to Ying Yue’s ears along the mountain wind.

“Thank you,” Yugong Zhaoye said.

Ying Yue: “?”

“Everyone has their own place to belong. It may not seem impressive to outsiders, but only the person living there knows whether it is warm or cold, and outside circumstances cannot shake that.” Yugong Zhaoye said, “Bihua was once Cheng Yu’s home. The Changchu Sect is his home now. As for the future…”

His gaze swept meaningfully toward the figure ahead as he left the latter half of the sentence unfinished.

“But Yeguang probably won’t have that honor.”

Even if he strained his conscience and retreated ten thousand steps, Yugong Zhaoye still had to admit that the ragtag bunch under his command now could not begin to compare with Bihua at its peak.

Back then, during the assassination of Helan Zhenjia in Yanyuan, the entire operation had involved only himself, Cheng Yu, Jin Han, and Lan Xian. Among the four, Cheng Yu had been the only officially ranked core member. When escorting Wei Fu to Dongyu, Jin Han had even found time to infiltrate Beizhu Palace undercover. Even members outside the core nine could each stand independently on their own.

Last year, to welcome the Xiling envoys, Yeguang had practically mobilized everyone. Including Yugong Zhaoye himself, five Moon Envoys had been dispatched. Killing Song Man alone had required four of them, and by sheer coincidence Jin Han had not been present—otherwise he would have recognized Wei Fu long ago.

Even with that many people, they had still failed to prevent the attack on the envoys. Had Wei Fu not cared for old ties and firmly stood on Yugong Zhaoye’s side, there was no telling how badly things might have ended.

After confirming Cheng Yu’s whereabouts, Yugong Zhaoye had quietly investigated the Changchu Sect. With a rare degree of self-awareness, he concluded that the two sides were roughly on the same level and there might still be room to persuade Cheng Yu to return.

But Cheng Yu merely asked him, “Your Highness, do you know what the Changchu Sect used to be called?”

Yugong Zhaoye shook his head blankly.

“It used to be written as ‘苌楚,’ with the grass radical.” Cheng Yu pulled out a small basket. “The Book of Songs says, ‘In the marsh grows changchu, graceful are its branches.’ Changchu is another name for yangtao.”

Inside the basket lay a pile of rough yellow-brown yangtao fruits, some as large as pigeon eggs, others no bigger than fingertips. They carried a faint fragrance.

“A local specialty,” Cheng Yu said with a smile. “It tastes quite good. I hope Your Highness won’t find it too humble.”

Completely baffled, Yugong Zhaoye accepted it.

“When the sect was first founded, the founding ancestor discovered the mountains covered in changchu while choosing a site. He must have been a very easygoing person, because he simply used what was there and named the sect the Changchu Sect, written 苌楚派. But people mocked the name whenever disciples introduced themselves outside, so later generations removed the grass radical and changed it to the current 长楚.”

This time Yugong Zhaoye understood. With mixed feelings, he asked, “You’ve already paid respects to their founding ancestor?”

“Yes.” Cheng Yu did not beat around the bush. He answered him honestly. “Just like Bihua once was, this place is now my home.”

“Fighting beneath the moonlight or filling my stomach with yangtao fruit—both are roads I chose myself. Taking lives or saving them are both part of my own sense of righteousness. I have already found a place where I belong. That is enough for me, Your Highness.”

Later, Yugong Zhaoye brought that basket of yangtao fruit back to Bihan City. Wei Fu loved it and said it could be used to brew wine.

Leaning against the doorway, Yugong Zhaoye watched him bustle around the courtyard. Before long, he himself was being ordered about endlessly—rolling up sleeves, tying back hair, moving jars from one place to another.

And in that moment, he suddenly understood Cheng Yu.

The world was vast and the four seas boundless, yet all he had ever truly sought in life was merely a single corner large enough to hold his heart.

The horses galloped forward against the wind. After the cold air had blown against his overheated face and ears for quite some time, Xie Youlan finally recovered from the shock of seeing Cheng Yu again. After several turns of thought, he at last realized the relationship between Cheng Yu and Yugong Zhaoye.

“You used to belong to Bihua?”

Cheng Yu answered yes.

Xie Youlan muttered sourly, “I knew it. There’s no way the Changchu Sect could’ve picked you up from between rocks. How could there be so many geniuses appearing out of nowhere?”

“You flatter me too much, Palace Master Xie,” Cheng Yu replied. “I’m merely older than the disciples of my sect and have practiced martial arts for a few more years. I’m hardly a genius.”

Somehow that answer stepped directly on Xie Youlan’s tail. His long brows drew together unhappily. “Do you have to speak to me like this?”

“I’ve always spoken to you this way.” Cheng Yu’s tone remained as calm and steady as ever, making it impossible to tell whether he was merely stating facts or quietly talking back. He even added with apparent concern, “What’s wrong?”

“That day…”

Xie Youlan abruptly stopped himself, seemingly wary of being overheard. He could only allude vaguely with a few hurried words. Beneath the brim of his bamboo hat, the tips of his ears burned red-hot.

But the warmth in Cheng Yu’s eyes instantly turned to icy frost.

“That day is already over,” he said coldly.

It was as though Xie Youlan had been slapped across the face.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Exactly what it sounds like.”

“You waited for me to come, and that’s all you had to say?” Xie Youlan’s eyes reddened with anger. “Very good, Sect Leader Cheng. So this is how you turn your back on someone the moment it’s over. Heartless and faithless—is that your sense of righteousness?!”