Gu Chengming closed the scroll, his expression subtle.
Honestly, after reading through this Sixth Realm senior's biography, his estimation of the Free and Unfettered Art had plunged in an unprecedented, cliff-edge free-fall—sliding straight down from "the lifelong labor of a Sixth Realm great cultivator" to "the Demon-Pill Manual."
Then again, demon pill or not, Sixth Realm was still Sixth Realm.
A man who could strap explosive talismans to a flying sword and blow up his senior sister until she cried, send a recruitment notice to the Harmonious Joy Sect to pile enmity onto his senior brother, and, on his very first day in the sect, goad several peak masters into brawling with each other—and after doing all that, not only avoid being expelled but live all the way to the Sixth Realm.
Someone like that was either so heaven-defyingly gifted that his peers simply couldn't touch him, or else walked a path that lay beyond ordinary comprehension entirely.
Gu Chengming figured it was most likely both.
He tucked the Free and Unfettered Art into his storage pouch. The instant the technique went in, his Sea of Consciousness came alive with chatter.
[The Qingxin Formula spoke up, thoroughly intrigued: If this senior were a character in a storybook, he'd definitely be the sort readers love and hate at once. Is Chengming really going to learn this technique? I have a feeling it'd be great fun.]
—Better first look into whether this technique is just another one of this demon-pill senior's pranks, Gu Chengming thought helplessly.
[The Hundred Bones Resonance cut in abruptly: So which wins in the end—a sword cultivator's killing edge, or a body cultivator's unrivaled defense?]
Speechless. Not worth answering. Classic rabbit-brained thinking.
Gu Chengming set the matter of the technique aside for now and turned to look at Ren Wencai.
Ren Wencai was cradling the spirit-wood box, gazing tenderly through its lid at the cat-fruit inside.
After that earlier round of vigorous self-combat, the cat-fruit had given up resisting entirely, sprawled spread-eagle into a puddle of orange rice-cake, too lazy even to keep up the threatening sheen it usually maintained over the surface of its spirit-body.
Its tail curled faintly, and now and then a hind leg twitched—probably still kicking its own chin in a dream.
"Master, let's get going."
"Hm? Oh, right. Let's go, let's go."
Reluctantly, Ren Wencai tucked the box away against his body, and the two of them retraced their route.
Back at the stone-grotto camp, Ren Wencai wasted no time and set about preparing for seclusion.
That cat-fruit was of extremely high quality, but refining it was not something done in a single stroke.
First he warmed and nourished his meridians with cold-marrow fluid, then steadied his spiritual sense with soul-nurturing incense. After that, Gu Chengming picked out several decent-quality Dharma Swords from the Sword-Burial Clan to help Ren Wencai set up a simple spirit-gathering formation deep in the grotto.
Once everything was in order, the old man settled cross-legged within the spirit-gathering formation.
"Chengming, while I'm in seclusion, I'll leave everything outside to you."
"Rest easy, Master."
Ren Wencai nodded, closed his eyes, and began to refine the cat-fruit.
The process went far more smoothly than expected.
Alive, the cat-fruit had bounced and darted everywhere, liquefying to slip free and pulling off every trick imaginable, the sort of creature that could leave a peak Fourth Realm veteran drenched in sweat and still grasping at empty air—but once it accepted defeat, it turned utterly docile in the refining. That pure spiritual energy flowed like a trickling stream, seeping slowly along Ren Wencai's meridians, mild and unbroken, washing over the bottleneck that had held him fast for decades.
Gu Chengming stood watch outside the grotto, feeling the ever-fiercer surges of spiritual pressure within, his expression calm.
Inside, the spiritual pressure swelled like a tide, each wave cresting higher than the last.
At last, on the morning of the third day, a muffled sound of a wall breaking open issued from deep within the grotto.
The spiritual energy of heaven and earth rushed madly toward the grotto like a hundred rivers pouring into the sea.
A moment later, all fell quiet.
The stone door swung slowly open from within, and Ren Wencai stepped out.
—Fifth Realm.
The old man's aura was worlds apart from three days before. His spiritual power, once thick but faintly waning, had turned refined and condensed; a very pale white light circulated about him, as though he were veiled in gossamer.
Yet his face held none of the wild joy one might expect after breaking through a major realm—instead it was deeply conflicted.
He stood at the grotto's mouth, first lifting his eyes to the deep vault of Tianque's sky, then lowering them to his own hands, turning them over and studying them for a long while, as if confirming again and again that none of this was a dream.
After a long moment, the old man let out a long breath of turbid air.
"Fifth Realm…"
His voice was a little hoarse, his eyes faintly red.
He turned to Gu Chengming, his lips moving several times, and in the end managed only four words.
"Thank you, Chengming."
Gu Chengming smiled and stepped forward to straighten his master's rumpled collar.
Some things needn't be said aloud; between master and disciple, an unspoken understanding was enough. He tucked the collar into place and patted the old man on the shoulder.
When word got out, Shen Qianqiu was the first to arrive.
The sect head of the Wenjian Sect had yet to recover from his wounds, but his spirits were high; he came striding over from far off with great, sweeping steps, his laughter reaching them before he did.
"Good! Wencai, well done!"
Shen Ganqiu came up to Ren Wencai and clapped him hard on the shoulder, with such force that the old cultivator, newly risen to the Fifth Realm, staggered half a step.
"Senior Brother Sect Head, go easy—I just broke through, my foundation isn't steady yet."
"Fifth Realm now and still complaining to me?" Shen Qianqiu scolded with a laugh, then his tone softened. "Wencai, these years have been hard on you… That business with your former disciple—I've always known the knot it left in your heart."
Ren Wencai fell silent for a moment, then shook his head.
"It's all in the past, Senior Brother."
He paused, then looked over at Gu Chengming, who was sorting spirit artifacts a short distance away, and a relieved smile crossed his face.
"Besides, if not for that old affair, I'd never have taken Chengming as my disciple. Such is the way of cause and effect and karma in this world—we sword cultivators should keep our eyes on the road ahead."
Shen Qianqiu followed his gaze to Gu Chengming, nodded, and said no more.
With the last of the business inside Tianque settled, the people of the Great Qian began preparing to withdraw from the Secret Realm.
The Eternal Life Heaven-Devouring Dao-Trapping Grand Formation was something the Eternal Life Sect had spent several hundred years laying down, built upon the nodes of Tianque's Dharma-Stations; its foundations had long since grown into the underlying spatial structure of Tianque itself, so tearing it out to carry away would be like gouging a chunk of flesh from Tianque's very bedrock.
Theoretically possible, but in practice roughly equivalent to demolishing a house to haul off the bricks.
Gu Chengming had no choice but to seal it in place. With the "Peace Under Heaven" rule presiding overhead in any case, even if the Eternal Life Sect ever entered Tianque again, they could forget about reactivating the formation.
But there was another thing he could take with him.
The Sword Burial Tomb.
When the people of the Great Qian gathered at Tianque's exit, ready to leave the Secret Realm one by one, Gu Chengming stirred a thought.
High overhead, deep in the vault of the sky, the iron-gray mountain that had long been hidden among the clouds descended slowly, passing through the cloud layer to hang steadily directly above him.
Everyone present looked up as one.
The mountain's shadow blanketed dozens of zhang in every direction. Though the sword intent gathered within it had been drawn inward, the sheer visual weight of the mass itself was enough to set scalps prickling.
Chu Heng's expression froze on the spot.
Tao Yong and Qin Huaiyuan stayed with their heads tipped back, mouths hanging open and unable to close for a good long while.
Zhou Hui, who hadn't taken part in the final battle and knew none of the inside story, looked to Xu Huayi, his voice trembling faintly. "Senior Sister, that's… a mountain, isn't it?"
Xu Huayi gave a light, breezy "Mm."
Inwardly, it was another scene entirely.
—Honestly, seeing this crowd struck dumb after coming out of Tianque, Xu Huayi felt the "shock that fell from the sky," which she had borne all alone this whole time, was finally being repaid.
Back then she'd shouldered it all by herself. She hadn't even had anyone to share a "did you know, he refined an entire mountain" with—that feeling bottled up inside, so absurd that repeating it to the empty air three times still didn't feel like enough, and now, at last, there were people who could empathize.
I just wanted to see you all make this face.
Xu Huayi nodded to herself, satisfied.
As for Lu Mingzhang of the Court of State Ceremonial—this smiling tiger renowned for his elegant bearing now wore a truly spectacular expression. The folding fan in his hand had stopped at the awkward point of half-open and half-closed, neither shutting nor spreading.
Out of the Tianque Secret Realm, on the flying vessel back, Ren Wencai and Shen Qianqiu did not travel with them.
Though Shen Ganqiu had recovered a portion of his cultivation, he still needed to return to the sect to recuperate in quiet; Ren Wencai, freshly broken through to the Fifth Realm, likewise had a foundation to consolidate. After their farewells, the two rode their swords off toward the Wenjian Sect.
Before setting off, Ren Wencai fussed out several more reminders, from "always be careful in whatever you do out there" to "stop solving everything with your fists—use a sword once in a while," until Shen Qianqiu finally hauled him away.
"Enough, Wencai—he's already a Deputy Commander under a Fifth Realm superior, and you still treat him like a three-year-old? Let's go, let's go."
Dragged far off through the air, Ren Wencai still turned back to shout at Gu Chengming, "Remember, come back to the Wenjian Sect soon!"
Gu Chengming stood where he was, watching the two streaks of sword-light vanish into the horizon, and shook his head—though warmth stirred within him.
On the flying vessel, those who remained were all people from the various offices of the Great Qian.
The atmosphere was eerily quiet.
Everyone found a place to sit—some closed their eyes to rest, some talked in low voices—but whatever they were doing, their gazes kept drifting toward the stretch of sky above the deck that the iron-gray mountain blotted out.
The mountain hung there brazenly above the vessel, moving in sync with it, like a peculiarly earnest storm cloud—other people's storm clouds blot out the sun; this one blotted out the sky.
The techniques in his Sea of Consciousness weren't idle either.
[The Hundred Bones Resonance surveyed the outside world with an air of lofty disdain and proclaimed loudly: Heavenly Emperor Gu! This mountain shall henceforth be our imperial traveling palace! On the day we sweep across the Six Directions, we shall use this mountain as a foundation and build a nine-tiered Tianque!
[Hundred Bones Resonance favorability +10]
[Constitution +1]
Calm down there, Hundred Emperor, Gu Chengming thought—I haven't even figured out where to put this mountain yet.
[The Qingxin Formula, quite in high spirits, mused leisurely: The storybooks write of "a sword immortal bearing a green mountain, walking across the heavens." I always took it for florid exaggeration—but now it seems the author was perhaps merely writing what was real.]
[The Zhouli Heavenly Harmony Righteous Heart Method offered its assessment: To travel bearing a mountain—though it risks a certain impropriety of decorum, this mountain was rightfully obtained, and so is beyond reproach. I only hope Chengming will in time find a fitting place to house it, and not flaunt it overmuch.]
—You're all right, but the problem is I can't shrink the thing down.
Gu Chengming sighed inwardly.
The sheer bulk of the Sword-Burial Clan was what it was. He'd tried again and again: refined it might be, but shrink it he truly could not. A storage pouch couldn't hold it, a formation couldn't seal it, and there was nowhere to throw it away.
So far the only workable plan was—to let it keep hanging high in the sky.
Fortunately, when the thing flew high enough, people on the ground couldn't see it.
The bad news was that "high enough" meant very high indeed.
As the vessel drew near the Capital's borders, Zhou Qingmu finally spoke.
"I'll go file a report first." She stood, brushing the dust from her hem, a trace of resignation in her voice.
Gu Chengming was a little puzzled. "File a report?"
Did the Night-Watch Bureau need to file reports just for coming back from an assignment?
Zhou Qingmu shot him a glance, her expression complicated, then slowly raised a hand and pointed above his head.
"It's nothing else—mainly it's that thing over your head."
"A mountain this big entering the Capital—if we don't file a report…"
She paused, as if weighing a less wounding way to put it.
"there's no telling how many impeachment memorials that lot at the Court of State Ceremonial would file against us."
At those words, in a corner on the far side of the vessel, Lu Mingzhang shifted his gaze, ever so naturally, to the sea of clouds beyond the window. Teacup in hand, he wore the look of a man thinking, "what an interesting shape those clouds are," as though that remark had nothing whatsoever to do with him, with the Court of State Ceremonial he served, or with any of the remonstrating officials under heaven who might file memorials.
Once the vessel reached the Capital, everyone returned to their own homes and reported to their own posts.
The gains and losses from the Tianque Secret Realm, the Eternal Life Sect's schemes, Jiang Yun's defection, the fate of the Dharma-Station marvel—every matter had to be written up and reported to those above.
Zhou Qingmu took the documents in person to the palace city. Gu Chengming returned to the Night-Watch Bureau to report in.
The debriefing went more smoothly than expected. Most of the details of this Tianque Secret Realm trip touched on classified matters, and only the upper ranks truly needed a full report. Zhou Qingmu had put in a word ahead of time—what to say, what not to say, what could be said but had to be rephrased—all of it arranged neatly.
Gu Chengming was glad enough to be spared the trouble.
But some news couldn't be held back.
Not because the secrecy was poorly done, but because some things were simply too enormous—so enormous that even if you sewed shut the mouths of everyone in the know, the heavens themselves would announce it for you.
Like the mountain in the sky above the Capital.
Though it flew extremely high—too high for mortal eyes to catch—the cultivation world had no shortage of masters. Any cultivator above the Fourth Realm need only send a thread of spiritual sense skyward to discover that, at some unknown point, an iron-gray peak radiating majestic sword intent had appeared directly above the Capital.
This couldn't be hidden from the cultivation world.
What could be hidden was only the details—whose mountain it was, where it came from, what it could do.
Fortunately, the Imperial Astronomical Bureau had plenty of experience in such matters.
The Imperial Astronomical Bureau. The Star-Gazing Tower.
The debriefing documents reached the Imperial Astronomical Bureau quickly.
When Song Zhixing received the file with the complete report on the Tianque Secret Realm attached, he was up in the Star-Gazing Tower routinely calibrating the spiritual-power parameters of the armillary sphere.
He opened the file and read at a glance, skimming the first few pages on the Secret Realm's internal structure, the distribution of Dharma-Stations, and the Eternal Life Sect's layout, his face as composed as ever.
On the seventh page, his movements stopped.
"Refined the Sword Burial Tomb…" Song Zhixing read the phrase twice to confirm his eyes weren't playing tricks, then read on.
"Gained control of the Eternal Life Heaven-Devouring Dao-Trapping Grand Formation…"
"Slew a Fourth Realm elder of the Eternal Life Sect with a single punch…"
"Severed the Dharma-Station's inheritance link, rescuing a Fifth Realm great cultivator…"
"Transformed the Dharma-Station into the Peace Under Heaven rule, carved forever into heaven and earth…"
Song Zhixing closed the file and folded his hands atop the desk.
He was silent for a long time.
Beside him, Chen Mo, seeing his Master Song like this, wanted to say something, but feared saying the wrong thing; he agonized over it for ages, mouth opening and closing, closing and opening, exactly like a beached fish.
In the end he couldn't hold it in. "Master Song… this Hidden Dragon List—does it still need changing?"
At that, Song Zhixing slowly turned his head and regarded his disciple with an extremely complicated look.
—You wretched child, could you please stop fretting over that Hidden Dragon List of yours?
This is damn well already a matter for the Heaven Ranking, isn't it?!
He drew a deep breath, pressed down the churning emotions, and gave his instructions in the steadiest of tones:
"Let those who should know, know; let those who shouldn't know only the rough shape of it. Touch on it and no more—leave some room."
"Go draft a new notice of ranking changes. For the record-of-deeds column, write only 'performed outstandingly within the Tianque Secret Realm, assisting Great Qian cultivators in resolving a crisis.' Don't mention the Dharma-Station, don't mention the Sword Burial Tomb, don't mention that mountain."
Chen Mo hurriedly agreed and turned to leave.
"Wait." Song Zhixing called him back. "This file—send it first to the Director for review."
His tone shifted subtly.
"The old man asked me only a few days ago—said the celestial signs had shifted of late, the dragon-qi stirring strangely, and told me to keep a close watch. This report… he ought to find it of interest."
Chen Mo took the order and went.
In the deepest part of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau stood a small building.
The building wasn't tall—three stories, gray tiles and white walls—tucked behind a few old pagoda trees, withered yet not dead.
No plaque hung before it, no lock on its door; push it open and there was a study heaped with bamboo slips and old scrolls.
The light within was dim; a single candle-flame flickered on the windowsill, lighting half a desk and an aged, long-worn armchair.
In the chair sat an old man, his gray Daoist robe washed pale, his hair gray-streaked yet combed without a strand out of place, his face gaunt, his eyes half-shut. Sitting there, he looked as if he were dozing, or perhaps deep in meditation.
This was the Director of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau—a man ranked alongside the Master of the Great Qian.
Master of the celestial signs, keeper of the calendar, arbiter of fortune's flow.
He had sat in that armchair for a very, very long time—so long that even Song Zhixing didn't know the Director's exact age, knowing only that when his own master's master had entered the Imperial Astronomical Bureau in those days, this old man had already been here.
When Chen Mo delivered the file, the old man was holding a bamboo scroll, reading who-knew-what.
"Director." Chen Mo bowed and set the file on the edge of the desk.
Without opening his eyes, the old man gave a "Mm," and his withered hand reached over, unhurriedly taking the file.
Chen Mo waited a moment, and seeing there were no further orders, bowed and withdrew.
The door closed, and quiet settled over the room once more.
Only then did the old man open his eyes, unfold the file, and read it page by page for a long while.
When he had finished, he set it back on the desk, lifted the cup of tea that had gone stone-cold, and took a sip.
"The Sword Burial Tomb… Peace Under Heaven…" the old man murmured, setting the cup down. "So it really has come to pass, just as I saw back then."
After a pause, he added, "Though—hasn't it come a bit early?"
Bafflement lingered on his face for an instant before he drew it back in, wholly unaware that he might have projected onto the wrong person.
—Never mind, never mind. It's thousands of years, after all; a margin of error is only natural. A few years early or late, all perfectly normal.
Outside, the branches of the old pagoda tree swayed in the wind, and a few withered leaves spun down onto the windowsill.
The old man reached out to brush the leaves away and said softly to the empty room:
"Those who ought to see will see naturally; as for those who shouldn't… let them stay in the dark a few more days—that's just as well."
He glanced at the sky beyond the window, and though from this angle there was nothing to see, he had clearly seen something others could not.
"That mountain up there… it's rather as if someone had raised a banner for him."
With that, the old man settled back into his armchair and closed his eyes, as if nothing had happened at all.
Dead silence returned to the study, broken only by the occasional faint crackle of the candle-flame.
Evening, Jishan Ward.
The osmanthus tree in the little courtyard had bloomed its second flush, a faint sweet fragrance drifting through the air.
When Gu Chengming pushed open the courtyard gate, the scene before him was almost no different from the day he'd left.
Yu Wenqiu was nestled in that shady corner the sun never reached, reclined in a bamboo chair with a thin blanket over her knees, a storybook in her hands, and at her feet crouched that orange cat, so fat it looked ready to spill out of its own outline.
The cat reacted first.
The fat orange cat gave a "meow," turning its round head toward the gate; Gu Chengming's figure reflected in its slit pupils. It looked for two seconds, then buried its head back in its paws, rolled over, and went on sleeping.
Fine. The orange cat's welcome ceremony was as perfunctory as ever.
Yu Wenqiu was half a beat behind the cat.
She showed half her face over the top of the storybook, and seeing it was Gu Chengming, her eyes curved.
"You're back?"
"Mm."
"Have you eaten?"
"No."
"There's congee keeping warm in the pot—help yourself."
That said, she tucked her face back behind the storybook and turned a page.
Gu Chengming looked at her like that and gave a helpless smile.
He walked into the kitchen. Sure enough, congee was keeping warm in the pot—plain white congee, a dish of pickled vegetables beside it, two warm white-flour buns, and a bowl turned upside down over the dish, plainly to keep it from going cold.
He carried the bowl out to the courtyard, sat down on the stone bench, and ate to the scent of osmanthus.
The congee had been simmered thick, the grains nearly dissolved; one mouthful warmed him all the way to his stomach.
Only then did Gu Chengming realize he hadn't had a proper meal in a long while.
In the Tianque Secret Realm, all he'd had to put in his mouth were pills and dry rations; now, with a bowl of plain congee in his belly, the warm, homely breath of the mortal world washed over him.
By now Yu Wenqiu had set down her storybook, sat up from the recliner, yawned, and stretched lazily.
"So, was Tianque fun?"
"Fun wouldn't be the word." Gu Chengming took a sip of congee. "But I gained quite a bit."
"What did you gain?" Yu Wenqiu leaned toward him, curious.
Gu Chengming thought for a moment, then said, "Picked up a little something."
Yu Wenqiu gave an "Oh" and didn't press further.
That was how she'd always been—never prying into what she shouldn't, and learning what she ought to when the time came.
The two of them chatted idly, on and off, about what he'd seen in Tianque.
Now and then Yu Wenqiu popped a candied fruit into her mouth. The orange cat kept shifting its spot at her feet—seemingly dissatisfied with the shade under the stone table, it moved over to the roots of the osmanthus tree, and once settled, heaved a little cat-sigh and slumped into a fuzzy round pancake.
The scent of osmanthus drifted through the whole courtyard as the night deepened.
Yu Wenqiu stood to head back to her room for the night, and as she reached the corridor, something occurred to her; offhandedly she activated her Clairvoyant Eye.
Her spiritual sense stretched upward.
Past the rooftops, past the lanes of Jishan Ward, past the towers and palaces of the Capital, rising higher still—
High above, an iron-gray mountain hung quietly over the Capital.
Its face was sheer as if cut by a blade, its summit bristling with jagged peaks, thick sword intent suffusing the whole of it. Under the moonlight, its outline was like a splash of dense ink flung across the curtain of the sky.
Yu Wenqiu's gaze rested on the mountain for three breaths.
Then, slowly, she drew her spiritual sense back.
Her eyes fell on Gu Chengming, who was clearing away the bowls and chopsticks in the courtyard.
"Little Gu."
"Hm?"
"That little something you said you picked up… is it that mountain?"
The bowl in Gu Chengming's hand paused.
He turned his head, looked at Yu Wenqiu's face—which read, plain as day, "I've long known you bring back some new trick every time you return, but isn't this a bit too outrageous?"—and chose honesty. "Mm."
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