In the end, the day to leave arrived after all.
The early morning of Red Dust Mountain was wrapped in a thin layer of dawn mist. The halo of the Twin Yin-Yang Fish Formation pierced through the fog and spilled down, plating the entire peak in a gentle, warm hue.
At the entrance of the Quiet Contemplation Court, Gu Chengming stood with a bundle on his back, his plain white sword-cultivator's garb already changed back to his original attire.
Fu Xiaoxiao stood before him. Today, for once, she wore that formal crimson robe of the Sect Master, her hair bound up neat and proper, and she had even penciled her brows into distant dark arcs. She truly looked to have a few measures of an Acting Sect Master's dignity.
"Have you packed everything?"
"I have."
"What about the Hundred Flowers Brew? The flask I had Jingxin pack for you—"
"Packed that too."
"And that…" Fu Xiaoxiao paused, her voice dropping a notch. "That wrist guard this seat sewed for you?"
Gu Chengming raised his right hand, revealing the black wrist guard at his wrist—the workmanship somewhat crude, but the stitches dense and tight.
Seeing it, the corner of Fu Xiaoxiao's mouth tugged upward slightly, then quickly pressed back down.
She clasped her hands behind her back, straining to make her posture look like that of a proper master of a sect. "Fine, off you go, then."
The words came out crisp and decisive enough.
Yet the moment they left her lips, her hand shot out beyond her control, seizing Gu Chengming's sleeve, her knuckles going faintly white.
"Remember to come back."
Gu Chengming said nothing more, only reached out and gently pressed his hand atop her head.
Fu Xiaoxiao gave a soft "hmph." The wisps of hair at her forehead were mussed by his touch, but she didn't smooth them back—instead, taking advantage of the motion, she pressed her face close and nuzzled against his palm. "One month."
She raised a single finger. "If you don't write back…"
"I'll send a letter every month."
Fu Xiaoxiao drew a deep breath and finally released her grip, stepping back a pace, hands folded behind her.
"Then go. The Acting Sect Master's duties are heavy—I won't see you off far."
She said she wouldn't see him off, yet until Gu Chengming's figure vanished beyond the mountain gate, Fu Xiaoxiao still stood rooted in place, up on her tiptoes, gazing motionless in that direction.
Footsteps came from behind. Elder Kurong had walked over at some unnoticed moment, and, watching her own Acting Sect Master looking so utterly distracted, opened her mouth as if to speak, then hesitated.
Fu Xiaoxiao suddenly spoke. "Sister Kurong."
"Mm?"
"Do you think… a month counts as a long time?"
Kurong fell silent for a while, thinking to herself: don't ask me—I've already gone through menopause.
...
The flying vessel tore through the clouds and away, and Red Dust Mountain gradually shrank into an ink-dot.
Xu Huayi sat within the cabin, flipping through a case file of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau, though her gaze drifted time and again past the pages toward that figure standing on the deck.
After this whole trip to the Harmonious Joy Sect, the relationship between her and Gu Chengming seemed to have shifted in some subtle way—grown more awkward.
"Fellow Daoist Gu."
With this thought in mind, Xu Huayi set down her teacup and smiled. "Once we return to the Capital, I'll write up the Imperial Astronomical Bureau's official documents. The Harmonious Joy Sect aftermath portion requires signatures from both sides, so we may need to make a trip to the Night-Watch Bureau to run through the procedure."
"My thanks, Fellow Daoist Xu."
Gu Chengming sat down in the rattan chair beside her and asked offhandedly, "Will Vice Director Song harbor any doubts about the outcome this time?"
Xu Huayi thought it over and replied, "He shouldn't."
The flying vessel wove between the cloud layers, sunlight scattering across the deck through the thin mist.
After a moment's silence, Xu Huayi suddenly asked, "Fellow Daoist Gu, your cultivation—"
She hesitated, then said it anyway. "Third Realm, second layer?"
Having been through so many of these episodes, she had built up a certain mental preparation for Gu Chengming's constitution of "advancing a realm with every dispatch he goes on." Hearing his affirmation, she smiled faintly, her gaze lingering on his face for a moment before turning back to the sea of clouds beyond the window.
For the rest of the journey, the two exchanged a few occasional words about the Eternal Life Sect's subsequent maneuverings, or about recent affairs in the Capital. The mood was neither warm nor distant—until the outline of the Capital appeared upon the horizon.
Xu Huayi rose, tucked the case file into her sleeve, and straightened her robes and cap.
"I'll go ahead to report to the Imperial Astronomical Bureau first."
She walked to the cabin door, paused mid-step, and turned her head. "Take care, Fellow Daoist Gu."
"You as well, Fellow Daoist Xu." Xu Huayi gave a slight nod, transformed into a streak of clear light, and departed ahead.
Gu Chengming watched her receding figure until that streak of clear light melted into the long river of fortune-qi above the Capital's skies.
Night-Watch Bureau.
Zhou Qingmu was in far better condition than at their last meeting.
Though she still sat in the wheelchair, her complexion had recovered some of its rosiness. That horizontal saber still rested across her knees, but the hand gripping it was no longer bloodless—it now carried the normal flush of a living person.
Gu Chengming reported the true circumstances of this trip to Zhou Qingmu.
"The Harmonious Joy Sect's cultivation art went out of control. The source was an imbalance in the yin and yang energies of the Yin-Yang Fish, which has now been repaired."
Hearing this, Zhou Qingmu pondered for a moment. "This matter should not be blown up. I'll handle things on the Night-Watch Bureau's end. As for the Imperial Astronomical Bureau, since Xu Huayi has already submitted her report, then let the case be settled as such."
Gu Chengming understood her meaning. This affair touched upon the Harmonious Joy Sect's founding foundations, upon the Eternal Life Sect's covert schemes, upon the subtle diplomatic ties between Great Qian and the Harmonious Joy Sect. What could be resolved internally should not be dragged out into the open.
After delivering his report, Gu Chengming returned to Jishan Ward.
When Gu Chengming pushed open the door, the sight that met his eyes made him falter for a moment.
The small courtyard had been swept spotless. On the stone table beneath the old osmanthus tree sat several dishes of small delicacies and a flask of warmed wine, while that fat orange cat—so plump its limbs were nearly invisible—lay splayed out like a flatcake on the cushioned stone stool, its tail dangling limply, its purring shaking the heavens.
And on the reclining chair beneath that tree, a figure wrapped in a white fox fur was tilting her head back, staring blankly at the sky between the treetops—clearly having waited a long while.
Hearing the door, Yu Wenqiu sprang up from the reclining chair with a "whoosh," moving so fast that she looked nothing like someone who normally found even rolling over too much effort.
"You're back!"
She dashed up to Gu Chengming, her gaze sweeping over him at lightning speed—from the top of his head to the soles of his feet, then from his feet back up to his head—finally freezing on that right hand wound with a wrist guard.
"What happened to your hand? Are you hurt? Let me see—"
"It's nothing, healed long ago."
Yu Wenqiu wasn't buying it. She reached out and snatched Gu Chengming's right hand, turning it over and over to inspect it, muttering all the while:
"It was perfectly fine before you left—how come you come back with a wrist guard on it? Did something happen? Did that lot from the Harmonious Joy Sect give you trouble? And where's Li Suizhuang? Wasn't she supposed to be protecting you?—"
"Elder, Elder."
Gu Chengming cut her off, caught between laughter and tears. "It really is nothing. This wrist guard isn't a bandage."
Yu Wenqiu shot him a suspicious look, then lowered her head to scrutinize the wrist guard carefully.
Crude workmanship, crooked, uneven stitches.
…Doesn't look store-bought.
Yu Wenqiu's movements slowed.
She did not press to ask who had made the wrist guard, but instead released his hand as though nothing were amiss, reached out to pat his shoulder, and said in a deliberately breezy tone:
"Good that it's nothing, good that it's nothing. Come, come—this whole table of dishes cost me quite an effort. Hurry and give them a taste."
She turned and walked toward the stone table. Gu Chengming followed over and sat down, taking the chopsticks she handed him.
Yu Wenqiu settled across from him, propping her cheek in her hand as she watched him eat, chattering all manner of small talk—asking about news from the Northern Territory, about what he'd seen at the Harmonious Joy Sect, about whether anything interesting had happened on the road.
As she talked, she suddenly leaned forward slightly, those lovely peach-blossom eyes narrowing.
"Wait." Yu Wenqiu's expression changed. She set down her propping hand and said, puzzled, "Little Gu, your aura…"
"What is it?"
"When did you break through to the Third Realm?"
Yu Wenqiu stood and circled behind Gu Chengming, leaning close to carefully sense the spiritual-power fluctuations around his body.
Third Realm, second layer. His aura deep and restrained, his foundation excessively solid.
She recalled how arduously she had barely stabilized the early Fourth Realm after so long of bitter cultivation, then recalled that before setting out, Gu Chengming had been merely Second Realm, eighth layer.
He went to the Harmonious Joy Sect on a dispatch.
And came back Third Realm?
Yu Wenqiu slowly sat back down in her own seat, lifted her wine cup and took a swig, and an indescribable sense of defeat welled up in her heart.
As an elder, seeing a junior progress so swiftly ought to have been a source of comfort.
But the problem was—wasn't this rate of progress just a bit too fast?
"Impressive, Little Gu. One trip out and you come back Third Realm."
She grumbled, "At this rate, next year it'll be your turn to guard my path."
After a few breaths of silence, Yu Wenqiu suddenly seemed to think of something. "Little Gu."
"Mm?"
"At the Harmonious Joy Sect… you weren't deceived by some wicked woman, were you?"
"Elder is overthinking."
Gu Chengming raised his chopsticks and, without a flicker of change on his face, picked up a piece of sweet-and-sour fish. "I'm not a child anymore. How could I be deceived?"
This wasn't the least bit false—for one, Fu Xiaoxiao was a good woman, and for another, he genuinely hadn't been deceived.
"Oh?" Yu Wenqiu drew out the syllable, her gaze lingering for a moment on that crudely-made wrist guard. "Really?"
"Really."
Yu Wenqiu stared at him for a good while, but in the end did not press further, reaching out to pour herself another cup of wine, downing it even faster than before.
Bitter wine down the throat, the heart aches.
—Her intuition told her that something absolutely must have happened to Little Gu at the Harmonious Joy Sect.
But now was not the time to get to the bottom of such a thing.
It was enough that he'd come back. Enough that he wasn't missing an arm or a leg.
"Go to the Harmonious Joy Sect less from now on," Yu Wenqiu mumbled, as though speaking to herself.
Gu Chengming pretended not to hear.
...
Imperial Astronomical Bureau, Star-Gazing Tower.
Song Zhixing had just seen Xu Huayi off and had not yet had the chance to drink a mouthful of tea when a flurry of footsteps came from beyond the hall.
The one who arrived was Chen Mo, cradling a thick stack of case files in his hands.
"Vice Director, the aftermath report for the Harmonious Joy Sect incident and the official documents from the Night-Watch Bureau have all been cross-checked and finalized."
Chen Mo set the files on the desk, hesitated, then spoke again. "Also, regarding the quelling of this Harmonious Joy Sect upheaval… this subordinate feels that the Night-Watch Bureau credited the merit to the great formation's backlash, but in the actual operation there was clearly no small hand played by that Lord Gu."
Song Zhixing lifted his teacup, took a sip, and did not take up the thread.
Seeing this, Chen Mo steeled his nerve and continued: "Vice Director, Gu Chengming has come back from the Harmonious Joy Sect this time, and word is he's already broken through to the Third Realm. Add to that his earlier battle merits in the Northern Territory, his accumulated achievements in the Capital, and his appointment as Deputy Commander of the Night-Watch Bureau—this is no longer a height that an ordinary young cultivator could reach."
He paused, lowering his voice. "This subordinate thinks—shouldn't we adjust his standing on the Hidden Dragon Ranking again? After all, if this matter got out, given his achievements—"
"No adjustment."
Song Zhixing set down his teacup, his tone flat.
"Vice Director?"
"The Imperial Astronomical Bureau will not participate in characterizing this affair. The aftermath report for the Harmonious Joy Sect incident is to be filed according to Xu Huayi's version."
Song Zhixing rose, clasped his hands behind his back, and walked to the window, gazing at the dragon-qi above the distant Imperial City—which had already recovered a few measures of its golden luster.
Though Chen Mo did not understand, seeing the Vice Director's resolute attitude, he dared not say anything more.
"Yes. This subordinate will go see to it at once."
The footsteps faded away.
Within the Star-Gazing Tower, quiet fell once more.
Song Zhixing stood at the window, his brows knitted tight.
—Ancestor, oh Ancestor.
He heaved a long sigh inwardly.
In the Northern Territory he'd killed a Fourth Realm demonic cultivator, and the Imperial Astronomical Bureau had pinned the name of "Murder-Fiend" on him to paper over it.
At the Harmonious Joy Sect he'd shattered a third of an Eternal Life Sect Venerable with one punch, and Xu Huayi had provided him cover in her report.
This time it had been barely covered up. But what about the next time?
This "Ancestor's" rate of power growth was utterly outside the normal bounds. Every few days he'd stir up some world-shaking, earth-shattering affair—sooner or later, the day would come when it could no longer be hidden.
What was even more fatal: the imperial house had, to this day, still given no clear stance.
Did the Sage Emperor know? He most certainly knew.
Yet he had neither issued a decree to summon him, nor bestowed titles and rewards, nor covertly suppressed and cast him out—but this very watch-and-wait was itself a kind of stance.
Song Zhixing rubbed the space between his brows, thinking to himself: could you, esteemed elder, quiet down for a few days? Even just to let me catch my breath would be enough.
"The Harmonious Joy Sect aftermath report—filed into the sealed archives, viewing restricted to Vice Director and above."
He spoke to the empty air, as if talking to himself, and as if giving instructions to some unseen person.
As for Gu Chengming's promotion to Deputy Commander of the Night-Watch Bureau, the reactions of the various factions in the Capital were a splendid array of colors.
Within the Night-Watch Bureau, things were fine enough.
After all, this lad had climbed to the position of Deputy Commander in under two years of joining the Bureau—but as for merit, from the Eternal Life Sect case in the Capital to the great victory at Snowfall Pass in the Northern Territory, and now to this dispatch to the Harmonious Joy Sect, every single item was solid, hard-won achievement. Say he was unworthy of the position? No one could open their mouth to say it.
It was rather Vice Commander Liu who found things a touch awkward. The rookie he himself had brought in back then was now his equal, and who knew when the fellow might even become his superior.
Still, in the end, gratification won out in Vice Commander Liu's heart. Not only did he display no dissatisfaction whatsoever, he was the first to take Gu Chengming around on a tour of every corner, telling everyone he met, "Little Gu slew foes in the Northern Territory and quelled the chaos at the Harmonious Joy Sect—young and full of promise," his words brimming with the pride of the one who'd brought him in.
The other deputy commanders, seeing Vice Commander Liu's showing-off manner, gritted their teeth with a bit of envy. Leading a sect disciple down the mountain to train was a bitter, thankless chore—who could have guessed Liu Batian would pick up such a windfall.
As for those keen-nosed civil officials and military officers at court, their reactions were even more interesting.
Some argued that the Night-Watch Bureau surely had a worthy successor now—a direct protégé raised by Zhou Qingmu's own hand, likely to take over the reins in days to come. Others sneered coldly, saying he was nothing but a brute who'd clawed his way up by killing and brawling. A Third Realm deputy commander? Just wait until the Capital's waters run a little deeper—there'll come a time for him to weep.
And still others cast their gazes toward the Imperial Astronomical Bureau and the Imperial City.
A disciple originating from the Wenjian Sect, rising in the span of a mere two years from a nameless nobody to Deputy Commander of the Night-Watch Bureau—if there were no one backing him behind the scenes, who would believe such a tale spoken aloud?
But these discussions went no further than discussions.
After all, once the name "The Murder-Fiend of Snowfall Pass" was laid out for all to see, most people wisely chose to shut their mouths.
And so the days passed by once more.
The Capital's clamor returned to calm. That far-reaching incident of the Harmonious Joy Sect's cultivation art going out of control gradually subsided with the repair of the Yin-Yang Fish, and those farces on the streets and in the alleys—once so absurd as to make eyes bulge—slowly became fodder for people's idle chatter over tea and after meals.
Gu Chengming's life, too, settled down.
By day he went to the Night-Watch Bureau to handle the backlog of official duties. A deputy commander's desk held far more than he had imagined—from reports of demons and evils submitted from every region to mediation documents for sect disputes. Only then did Gu Chengming realize just how much Zhou Qingmu had been shouldering all on her own.
By night he returned to the small courtyard in Jishan Ward, circulated his cultivation art, and consolidated the Third Realm.
Occasionally Yu Wenqiu would come by to visit, carrying a box of snacks, cracking melon seeds with one hand while pressing him for the next installment of a storybook with the other.
And it was just at this time that an urgent-report jade slip, come from the north, landed upon the desk of the Night-Watch Bureau.
Night-Watch Bureau, the Director's quiet chamber.
Zhou Qingmu stared at the contents within that jade slip for a long while before finally setting down the teacup in her hand, her fingertips tapping twice on the armrest of her wheelchair.
"Summon Gu Chengming."
When Gu Chengming pushed open the aloeswood door, he sensed at once that today's atmosphere was different from usual.
Zhou Qingmu was not seated in that specially-made red sandalwood wheelchair, but had risen to her feet, that horizontal saber once more hung at her waist.
"Director?"
Gu Chengming's gaze lingered for a moment on the cane, and he thought to himself: her recovery has been faster than expected.
"Sit."
Zhou Qingmu, leaning on her cane, walked to the desk and pushed an unrolled map before Gu Chengming.
It was a topographical map of a bitterly cold land in the far north.
On the map, a single location was marked in cinnabar, and beside the mark were written two archaic seal-script characters—Tianque.
"In the far north—the secret realm of Tianque."
Zhou Qingmu got straight to the point, a long-absent sharpness in her voice. "Years ago, celestial phenomena already indicated that this place would emerge into the world. The great sects have long kept their eyes on it, but there was never a definite time of opening."
"And just three days ago, the Imperial Astronomical Bureau's Star-Gazing Terrace detected an abnormal stirring of spiritual energy at that location."
She raised her head, her gaze heavy as she looked at Gu Chengming. "This so-called secret realm of Tianque has formally emerged into the world."
"With this opening, no faction of any stripe will let this opportunity slip. The Wenjian Sect, the Tianding Sect, the Taihao Sect… any great cultivator with hope of assaulting a higher realm will move heaven and earth to get inside."
"And as for the Night-Watch Bureau—" Her finger tapped the cinnabar mark on the map. "—we've secured three slots."
Gu Chengming had a vague inkling of what was coming.
Zhou Qingmu looked at him as though speaking of some trifling, insignificant matter. "Last year you resolved no small number of troubles for Great Qian. The Night-Watch Bureau, the Imperial Astronomical Bureau, the Northern Territory's military—all have your merits on record. I took these merits and ground away at that lot in court for three days before finally nailing down this slot."
She paused, the corner of her mouth curving up into a trace of a smile. "Don't waste my good intentions."
Gu Chengming looked at that cinnabar mark on the map, an odd feeling in his heart.
—Another secret realm?
"But this journey will be extraordinarily perilous."
Zhou Qingmu reined in her smile, her voice sinking a few degrees. "Chaotic currents rage around Tianque. Even a Fifth Realm great cultivator, at the slightest carelessness, would meet death and the extinction of their Dao. Not to mention that the people of the various sects and factions are a mixed, roiling lot—inside the secret realm there is no Great Qian law nor any sect rules. If you don't want to go…"
Gu Chengming, for his part, did not hesitate. He nodded and said, "I'll go."
Zhou Qingmu, watching how he showed not the slightest hesitation, felt rather gratified.
"Good. You'll be notified of the specific arrangements in three days. Go back and get prepared."
As Gu Chengming stepped out the gate of the Night-Watch Bureau, pop-up windows appeared before his eyes one after another.
[The Hundred Bones Resonance throws a forceful punch: This time it finally sounds like a proper secret realm!]
It seemed Old Hundred hadn't been very satisfied with the last secret realm.
[The Red Dust Phantom Body Formula speaks up at the fitting moment: If the secret realm of Tianque is a legacy site left behind by an ancient great power, then the intelligence network inside is bound to be a blank slate. It is advised to gather the rosters and movements of the various factions as early as possible, and prepare for every contingency.]
He raised his head and gazed at that dragon-qi above the Capital, gradually recovering its golden luster. His eyes pierced through layer upon layer of glazed-tile roofs, cast toward that vast, boundless sky in the far northern direction.
For some reason, he suddenly thought of his makeshift master.
He wondered how the old man was faring over at the Wenjian Sect.
If the old man knew he'd broken through to the Third Realm, he'd surely be thrilled.
In the far northern land, within the secret realm of Tianque, a somewhat bedraggled figure was darting swiftly through a snowy forest.
This person wore a grimy rogue-cultivator's robe stripped from who-knew-where, hair disheveled, and had even deliberately shrunken his bones to disguise his frame, his back somewhat hunched. Right now he was, while sprinting madly, letting out miserable "aiyo, aiyo" wails.
It was none other than the Wenjian Sect Elder—Ren Wencai.
Several hundred zhang behind him, three streaks of flowing light pursued relentlessly, each of them a Fourth Realm cultivator.
"Three fellow Daoists, the treasures in this secret realm go to the capable—why must you chase so bitterly!"
Ren Wencai didn't so much as turn his head, shouting at the top of his lungs as he ran:
"This seat just passed by and scooped up a stray bargain—surely that's not worth hunting me to the death?"
"Cut the nonsense! Liu Changfeng, I still haven't settled accounts with you for treacherously killing my blood brother!"
The one behind slashed out a stroke of sword-qi that leveled half a hilltop.
Ren Wencai let out a strange yelp and greased the soles of his feet, his body technique as slick as a loach, dodging that sword-qi by the narrowest of margins:
"Cultivators these days—such fiery tempers, not the least understanding of respecting elders and cherishing the young."
Though he wailed pitifully with his mouth, the eyes hidden beneath his disheveled hair were clear and coldly sharp—where was there the slightest trace of panic?
As he ran, he observed the surrounding terrain without betraying a thing.
Three hundred paces to the left, there was a snow-covered cliff, and below it a nest of slumbering "Four-Winged Frost Centipedes." That patch of seemingly level snow-field to the right was in fact the ruined remnant of an ancient sealing formation—easy to enter, hard to leave.
Ren Wencai narrowed his eyes, his fingers swiftly forming seals within his sleeve, and several talismans he'd casually refined beforehand slid soundlessly into his palm.
"Three fellow Daoists, stop chasing! I'll hand it over, I'll hand it over—will that do?"
Ren Wencai suddenly skidded to a halt before the cliff, wearing the look of utter despair of one with nowhere left to run, and, trembling all over, drew a brocade box from his bosom, his face full of heartache:
"It's all here! Don't kill me!"
So saying, he mustered all the strength in his body and hurled that brocade box hard toward the level snow-field on the right.
"Count yourself sensible!"
Seeing this, the three cultivators were overjoyed—they hadn't taken this sword-cultivator seriously at all.
In the very instant they stepped onto that snow-field—hmmm—a stroke of murky spirit-light abruptly flared.
That was no "level snow-field" at all, but plainly the Formation Eye of a linked entrapment array!
"What is this?! Cough cough cough!"
"Bad! It's a trap! This old bastard tricked us!"
At almost the same moment, from below the cliff on the left, several terrifying shrieks rose howling into the sky.
The swarm of Four-Winged Frost Centipedes, enraged by the scent of the Beast-Luring Powder, burst forth from the snow, and, following the smell, lunged toward those three luckless wretches trapped and unable to move within the formation.
"Aaah!! You despicable—!!"
Miserable screams and furious curses echoed through the cold-baleful forest.
And Ren Wencai, by this time, had long since—in the very instant of hurling the brocade box—slapped a "high-grade Concealment Talisman" onto himself, drawing his aura down to the utmost, his whole person pressed like a piece of deadwood against the back of an ancient tree a hundred zhang away.
"Taihao Sect… tsk, not a shred of jianghu experience."
He was in no hurry to leave, but instead waited with the utmost patience for the full span of a stick of incense. Only after the commotion over there had entirely died down, after those few Four-Winged Frost Centipedes had eaten and drunk their fill and burrowed back underground, and after those three Taihao Sect elders had been left without so much as a scrap of bone—only then did he leisurely reveal himself.
He did not go over directly, but first sent out a puppet-decoy carved from wood, controlling the decoy to walk over and make a circuit. Only after confirming there were no hidden countermeasures nor lingering seals did he cautiously edge closer.
With practiced skill he picked up the storage pouches dropped by those three luckless wretches, swept them with his divine sense, erased the imprints, sorted and packed them—his movements flowing like drifting clouds and running water, plainly the work of a habitual offender.
"Paupers—three of them together can't scrape up two top-grade spirit stones."
Ren Wencai curled his lip in distaste, then flicked a wisp of deep-blue flame from his fingertip, burning away every trace of lingering aura at the scene until it was spotless.
Having done all this, he clapped his hands with satisfaction and smoothed out that tattered robe.
"I wonder how that foolish disciple of mine is doing now."
Ren Wencai gazed to the south. "That kid's a one-track mind. If he's entered this secret realm, who knows—he might just go and foolishly clash head-on with someone, sword in hand."
As if this cultivation world were a place where you could go clashing head-on. Risking your life is the lowest of low strategies—running, poisoning, and clubbing folks from behind, that's the true and righteous way.
With Gu Chengming on his mind, he sighed, folded his hands behind his back, hunched his frame, and, like some utterly unremarkable old scavenger, once more melted into the vast, boundless wind and snow.
...
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