By the time Qian Xuelang came out of the carriage, nearly half a day had passed.
The surviving demonic cultivator who had guarded Shadowed Spring had already scrambled back to Liuyanzhu to spread the news. Everyone was alarmed. They all knew that someone had carried away the sinister sword that bewitched people’s minds.
Thus, when Qian Xuelang emerged, Liuyanzhu was considerably quieter than before. He paid no attention to it and set off for White Stone Village in the direction Hua Hanyan had indicated.
Five hundred li might mean several days of travel to a mortal, but to Qian Xuelang it was no more than a short journey.
He did not know precisely where White Stone Village lay. Traveling and stopping along the way, he gradually sensed the surroundings grow silent and desolate by dusk. Vegetation was sparse. Far away, a small village lay half concealed in the damp evening mist.
No lights could be seen in the settlement. It was impossible to tell whether it was already a village of the dead or whether its inhabitants had simply gone to bed early.
Qian Xuelang wondered, Why didn’t I see this little village when I was up among the clouds just now?
Intending to ask directions, he headed straight toward it. But after walking for a long time, the little settlement remained at exactly the same uncertain distance beyond the shifting night mist, as though he had never moved from where he stood.
Qian Xuelang understood. Someone had set up a formation here. What he had seen from the clouds was an illusion.
Formations were not Qian Xuelang’s specialty. As he considered how to break through, he heard several footsteps approaching through the night mist, followed by an impatient voice. “Eldest Senior Brother, do you actually know where you’re going?”
Another person protested on the leader’s behalf. “Senior Brother Tang, why don’t you lead the way instead? Eldest Senior Brother is injured! From outside this wretched place looks beautiful, with mountains and water everywhere. Once you’re inside, the terrain is bizarre and formations cover everything. Even the clouds and mountain mists are locked in here, let alone people and beasts! If Eldest Senior Brother hadn’t broken those formations, we’d still be going in circles on that cliff!”
“Oh, so you dare speak to me that way!” Senior Brother Tang replied with a sneer. “I was only saying…”
Before he could continue, another man interrupted. “Enough arguing! At such a critical moment, why are you still indulging your tempers?”
There was authority in the speaker’s voice. Sure enough, nobody dared say another word.
Qian Xuelang recognized them as disciples of a reputable orthodox sect, apparently here to gain experience. Their leader seemed fairly knowledgeable about formations. Of all the people he knew, the only one he regarded as highly skilled in formations was Jiufang Ce, the husband of his friend Shui Wuchen.
But distant help could not remedy an urgent problem. He could hardly return to Daihai and drag the man here. He might as well travel with these disciples instead.
Qian Xuelang neither hid nor avoided them. Following the sound of footsteps, he approached the young cultivators. He made no attempt to conceal himself, so they quickly detected the stranger, drew their swords, and formed a sword array. “Who’s there?!”
When the disciples finally saw Qian Xuelang, they were all taken aback.
These disciples wore short yellow hempen jackets. Each looked clever and capable. The man at their head seemed somewhat haggard, with pale lips that showed he was wounded within. He had refined, handsome features and a slender neck, giving him something of the elegant bearing of a crane.
Qian Xuelang was rather surprised. “He Yuntao?”
Elio’s Notes: He Yuntao (鹤云涛) is a different person from Wan Yuntao (万云涛), the alias Ren Yijue chose in Chapter 94. Their surnames and Chinese characters are different.
To have his name spoken by a complete stranger startled He Yuntao, and wariness rose in his heart. Recognizing his origins from his uniform would not have been strange, but how could this man know him by name?
Someone with such an unforgettable appearance was not a person He Yuntao could have met and forgotten. He was certain he had never seen him before.
“May I ask who you are, Senior?” he said calmly.
Qian Xuelang was not adept at explaining himself. He could hardly say he had glimpsed the other man in the workings of heavenly secrets. An awkward silence fell, and the disciples exchanged uncertain looks.
Then a younger disciple whispered to his neighbor, “He’s so beautiful. Could he be some mountain spirit come to steal our souls? But… but why is he a man?”
Even in this tense situation, the others were torn between irritation and laughter. Someone scolded the youngster, and he fell silent.
At that moment an older disciple in the sword array suddenly exclaimed, “It’s him! It’s really him!”
He Yuntao asked cautiously, “Ning Zhou? Do you know him? Who is he?”
“It… it’s…” The older disciple named Ning Zhou stammered, apparently too embarrassed to say it aloud. His senior and junior martial brothers pressed him until he stamped his foot helplessly and blurted out, “He’s the person from twenty years ago!”
Twenty years earlier, the Zhaoying Sword Sect had suffered a humiliation that every disciple knew of. Most, however, did not know precisely who had been involved or what had occurred. They knew only that someone had defeated Xiao Beisheng within the Zhaoying Sword Sect, costing the Zhaoying Sword Sect its reputation. Everyone was astonished.
They could not help staring at Qian Xuelang, who stood in the night mist like something half seen in a dream. Was he a human or a ghost? Their thoughts swam as though they had fallen into a dream.
Second Senior Brother Tang summoned the courage to ask, “What do you want with us? Have you come to defeat Martial Uncle Xiao all over again?”
It was an insolent thing to say. Intentional or not, the words betrayed malice toward Xiao Beisheng. A trace of anger appeared on He Yuntao’s face, but he forced it down.
Qian Xuelang found the man’s manner offensive. His earlier taunts of He Yuntao were one thing, but for an ancient sect like the Zhaoying Sword Sect, with a thousand years of inheritance, to show such contempt toward its own elder Xiao Beisheng was another. Had the Zhaoying Sword Sect’s internal strife really grown so severe?
What he did not know was that after the crushing defeat twenty years ago, not only had heart demons taken deep root in Xiao Beisheng, but the sword sect itself had begun to divide into two camps.
One camp held that Qian Xuelang used a saber. Their fight was simply a contest of skill: Xiao Beisheng was weaker than his opponent, but that did not mean Zhaoying swordsmanship was inferior.
The other camp believed defeat was defeat, and that Xiao Beisheng’s loss showed Zhaoying swordsmanship to be greatly inferior.
The Zhaoying Sword Sect had always honored the sword above all else, so Xiao Beisheng sometimes commanded more prestige than the sect master himself. Tang Wenxian, a disciple of the sect master, had long nursed a bitter grievance over this. Once Xiao Beisheng lost, he felt the martial uncle was nothing but a pretender trading on an undeserved reputation. His resentment eased, and his respect vanished. Later He Yuntao became the sect’s leading disciple, which only made his resentment grow again. He increasingly schemed and fought against both master and disciple at every turn.
He Yuntao could be sharp-tempered, but Xiao Beisheng’s position was awkward enough. Unwilling to burden his master with such petty matters, He had repeatedly endured Tang Wenxian’s provocations and maintained a superficial peace.
“I’ve come for you,” Qian Xuelang said evenly.
The disciples simply stared, unable to understand his meaning.
Qian Xuelang thought for a moment, then explained further. “I don’t understand the formations here, but I need to visit White Stone Village.”
However many questions the others asked after that, Qian Xuelang refused to respond.
“May I ask why you wish to go to White Stone Village, Senior?” He Yuntao asked.
Qian Xuelang gave him a cool glance without answering. In truth, nobody knew what was going on in White Stone Village, and Hua Hanyan might not have spoken the truth. Explaining matters to He Yuntao would take a great deal of effort. He had no wish to account for the bargain he had made with people from Liuyanzhu, either.
Tang Wenxian grew bold when he saw He Yuntao get nowhere and asked, “Hey! What if we refuse to let you come along?”
“Is that your decision to make?” Qian Xuelang asked.
Though he had answered Tang Wenxian, the words sounded more like an insult.
Tang Wenxian flushed crimson. Nothing in his life rankled more than losing to He Yuntao. He knew perfectly well that Qian Xuelang knew nothing of the Zhaoying Sword Sect’s quarrels and likely meant no such insult. Yet the words felt like a stinging slap across the face. In a rage he drew his sword and slashed at him. “I’ll show you whether it’s my decision!”
The attack was utterly impulsive. A clamor rose among the disciples. He Yuntao could not stop him in time and could only shout, “Junior Brother Tang! Do not strike!”
The sword fell, but Qian Xuelang dissolved into mist. Tang Wenxian could not halt his momentum and almost pitched forward. Qian Xuelang reappeared to one side and said calmly, “I told you. It isn’t your decision.”
He had no intention of injuring anyone. Besides, he needed their help. An excessively haughty attitude would do him no good.
Seeing such profound cultivation, the disciples became frightened. Several wanted to retreat. They all turned toward He Yuntao and called together, “Eldest Senior Brother.”
He Yuntao’s thoughts, however, were clear. Even if this really is the person who defeated Master all those years ago, how could he recognize me? And why would he also want to go to White Stone Village? His cultivation is extraordinary, yet he didn’t injure Junior Brother Tang. Perhaps he is a ghostly illusion conjured in the mountains, able to see our hidden thoughts and assume this form to frighten us into retreating. The Misty Mountains are riddled with formations. Such an obstacle would not be surprising.
With this in mind, He Yuntao gave a deep bow. “Senior, we are also traveling to White Stone Village. I know a little about formations. If you, Senior, do not disdain our company, please come with us.”
“Very well,” Qian Xuelang said.
He Yuntao did not speak to him again, behaving as though he were not even there. Tang Wenxian had been frightened out of his wits by Qian Xuelang’s ghostlike movement. Embarrassed and shaken, he too kept quiet. For the first time since entering the mountains, the party enjoyed some unusual peace.
They walked for nearly another half hour, relying entirely upon He Yuntao to unravel the formations. He was injured and tired, and a concerned disciple said, “Eldest Senior Brother, it’s getting late. Why don’t we stop for a rest?”
“Yes, yes!”
“Eldest Senior Brother, rest for a little while!”
“Exactly! Senior Brother, if you collapse, we’ll be in even worse trouble.”
…
The disciples chorused their agreement, but all their eyes kept turning toward Qian Xuelang. They knew their current problem was no longer simply the quarrel between He Yuntao and Tang Wenxian. It was the presence of this unfathomable senior.
Qian Xuelang gazed into the distance for a long time without speaking. There was nothing else on his mind except that if Ren Yijue were here, he would certainly have handled everything neatly and beautifully, leaving him nothing to worry about.
It was strange. Why had such difficulties never bothered him during his travels down the mountain in earlier years?
At last Qian Xuelang said, “This confusing formation is extremely troublesome. Being impatient will not help. Your cultivation is weak. Rest a while.”
But inwardly he thought, The Zhaoying Sword Sect is very far from Liuyanzhu. He Yuntao was once attacked by a demon and survived only because he happened to meet Ren Yijue. Why has he come back here, still wounded? If Ren Yijue were here, he’d keep talking and asking questions until he’d drawn the whole story out of them, perhaps even asking whether the Zhaoying Sword Sect had run out of useful disciples.
Qian Xuelang had always understood such oddities perfectly well. He had simply never troubled to pick them up and examine them.
Now, because of Ren Yijue, Qian Xuelang finally did pick them up, only to set them lightly aside again. He was not truly curious or concerned.