The wine had gone cold, and so had the cups.
In the end, Feng Yinming decided to leave Ren Yijue here. Besides that, he left behind a good deal of furniture and provisions. Qian Xuelang might be accustomed to cultivating this way, but they could hardly expect an injured man to endure the same austerity.
Even so, when the time came to part, Feng Yinming was still reluctant to leave.
“Are you truly all right?” Feng Yinming asked anxiously. “I’m not worried about anything else. I’m only afraid you’ll force yourself to look fine in front of me.”
Qian Xuelang said, “Too much worry is bad for your health.”
The words were remarkably considerate, like a trace of searing warmth showing through ice and snow. If one understood how cold he normally was, how could one fail to treasure that little bit of warmth?
Feng Yinming clearly did. Alarmed, delighted, and reluctant all at once, he looked at Qian Xuelang almost tenderly, as if a thousand things waited on his tongue. In the end, they became only a long sigh. He said softly, “Don’t worry. I’ll remember to take care of myself.”
After seeing Feng Yinming depart on his boat, only two figures remained on the snowy mountain.
Qian Xuelang was about to turn back into the snow cave when he remembered that someone had been entrusted to his care today. He turned slightly and asked, “Are you coming?”
Naturally, Ren Yijue agreed.
Calling it “taking care of him” was somewhat unnecessary. Ren Yijue was perfectly capable of looking after himself. Anyone who could escape a place like Liuyanzhu while bringing a gravely injured man with him was not to be underestimated.
The origins of Liuyanzhu stretched all the way back to the primeval age, when chaos first parted and heaven and earth had only just taken shape. Clear qi condensed into gods, who walked among the Nine Heavens; turbid qi condensed into demons, who hid within the Nine Abysses.
At that time, gods and demons, whose lives nearly matched heaven and earth itself, were the true rulers of this world. Humans, yao, spirits, ghosts, monsters, and all the other kinds of living creatures were merely small peoples struggling to survive upon the earth.
Clear and turbid qi coexisted in the mortal world. The demons naturally wished the turbid qi to grow denser, while the gods wished the clear qi to flourish. A great war between gods and demons therefore became unavoidable. Both races perished entirely in that conflict. Most dissolved back into the world after death, but the strongest among them had possessed such concentrated clear or turbid qi that it could not disperse. In time, their remains created places where spiritual qi gathered and places polluted by turbid qi.
Liuyanzhu was the burial place of one such Heavenly Demon. No one knew how powerful that demon had been while alive. Its demonic qi was so abundant that even death failed to stop it. It poured outward like an endless spring, spreading day and night until it created the profoundly malignant land known as Liuyanzhu.
Ordinary cultivators could not withstand the demonic qi of Liuyanzhu. Neither could demonic cultivators, or even weaker half-demons. Yet Ren Yijue had appeared here with all his limbs intact and his mind clear. Whatever he was hiding, there was clearly more of it than could presently be seen.
Presumably, at least half of the Zhaoying Sword Sect’s wariness toward Ren Yijue came from uncertainty over his true strength.
The two returned to the cave and made simple arrangements with the furniture Feng Yinming had left behind. There was not much, but it was enough to give the completely bare cave a little trace of human habitation.
A brocade quilt, a mountain-shaped pillow, a wooden bed, a soft rug, and a plain carved screen were arranged between them. Ren Yijue walked behind the screen. The dim radiance from the ice wall shone through its carved patterns, dazzling his eyes until he instinctively turned his face away.
“Your cultivation is already close to perfection. Will Ren’s presence here disturb your quiet cultivation?”
Ever since humanity’s rise to prominence, seeking immortality and pursuing the Dao had gradually become commonplace. Those who successfully ascended to immortality could still be counted on one’s fingers, but they did exist.
Immortals were deathless, and the turbid qi within their bodies gradually vanished. For that reason, most eventually sought out a blessed grotto-heaven where they could live in seclusion for long ages, cutting themselves off from the mortal world and forming no further karmic ties.
Even ordinary turbid qi caused discomfort. Demonic qi, which was denser still, was naturally worse.
That was why Ren Yijue asked.
“If quiet cultivation cannot withstand tempering, if the slightest unexpected change can break it, then it is not quiet cultivation,” Qian Xuelang said. “It is merely shutting oneself away to reflect on one’s faults.”
Ren Yijue could not help laughing softly.
It was already very late. Ren Yijue fell asleep soon after lying down. His figure was hidden behind the screen, and were it not for the slow, steady sound of his breathing, the snow cave might have seemed to contain only Qian Xuelang as before.
When Qian Xuelang sat cross-legged on his cushion, he glanced once more at his palm. The wound had healed.
One slept while the other closed his eyes and rested his spirit. The night passed this way. When Ren Yijue woke the next morning, dawn had yet to arrive and the snow cave was darker still. Before he could even sit up, he heard Qian Xuelang ask, “Are you awake?”
Ren Yijue answered, “I’m getting up.”
“I’ll wait for you outside.”
Qian Xuelang rose. Noticing a few small creases in his robes, he lightly smoothed them with his hand before walking outside to wait.
Before long, Ren Yijue emerged from the cave, and Qian Xuelang immediately set off.
Although Ren Yijue had met him only once before, he already had a rough understanding of his temperament. Helplessly, he asked, “May I know where you are taking me?”
Qian Xuelang replied, “Feng Yinming asked two things of me. First, to protect you. Second, to help heal your injuries. Since you do not want anyone else using their cultivation to suppress the demonic qi, I will take you to this mountain’s spirit pool to recuperate.”
Ren Yijue thought for a moment, somewhat puzzled. “If these mountains can nurture a spirit pool, then that must be where the spiritual qi is richest. Why do you still cultivate in the snow cave?”
Qian Xuelang said, “It is no longer useful to me.”
Ren Yijue could not tell whether the answer was arrogant or simply indifferent, and had no idea how he ought to respond.
As they spoke, the two had already traveled a long mountain path. The road climbed steadily upward, while the bitter cold grew ever stronger. It was even harder going than the journey up the mountain had been. Ren Yijue was injured, and before long his steps began to slow.
Qian Xuelang continued for a while. When he realized Ren Yijue had not caught up, he stopped and waited. Quite some time passed before Ren Yijue finally reached him, breathing much more heavily. Even then, his elegant habits remained unchanged. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”
“Why apologize? We are going to the spirit pool because of your injuries in the first place,” Qian Xuelang said calmly. “Blaming you for the very same reason would make no sense.”
Such consideration ought to have made Ren Yijue deeply grateful. Yet when he remembered that Qian Xuelang’s nature was like ice and snow, and that these words were merely an expression of his clear understanding of worldly logic, they somehow became rather flavorless.
Neither spoke after that. They continued together in perfect silence until they reached the mountaintop.
Qian Xuelang had not come here in more than ten years. The moment he reached the entrance, he sensed that the spiritual qi had grown several times denser than he remembered. The spirit pool had gone undisturbed for years, becoming purer day after day, and faint spiritual mist now drifted from it.
They approached the pool and saw that it resembled a roughly shaped flower-rimmed dish. Since it was entirely natural, its outline was irregular. It was no more than three chi deep, clear all the way to the bottom, with mist curling above the water.
Qian Xuelang said, “We’re here. Get in.”
Ren Yijue removed his clothes and entered the water. The spirit pool was cold as well, yet compared with the bitter chill of the snowy mountain it almost felt warm. He looked back and saw Qian Xuelang already seated beside the pool in meditation. “With spiritual qi this pure, it seems you truly haven’t come here for a long time.”
“A spirit pool nurtured by a mountain range may endure for a thousand or ten thousand years without running dry, but what it accumulates each day is still limited,” Qian Xuelang said. “If one has no restraint and grows too greedy, sooner or later the mountain will be exhausted and the spring run dry. Since it is useless to me, naturally I leave it in peace.”
Ren Yijue could not resist joking, “Then I’m the one who benefits.”
Qian Xuelang said nothing more.