Chapter 78

Since this journey down the mountain was a personal matter, there was no need to wait for anyone. After bidding farewell to her master, Qing Zhouxue reported to the Main Peak and then set off alone, Qingshuang Sword in hand, carrying nothing else.

Halfway along the road, she unexpectedly ran into Ruan Mingzhu. The girl tilted her head and smiled. "So all the disciples of our batch have been sent out. You're going down the mountain just like this? Does Elder Yun miss you?"

Qing Zhouxue gave a slight shake of her head. She couldn't quite gauge her master's thoughts, but Yun Shuchen had lived for so many years; surely anyone in her position wouldn't feel much longing for a few months' absence.

Even so, her gaze dropped. For herself, suddenly leaving the place where she had lived for fourteen years and being away for so long truly didn't sit well with her. So she casually asked Ruan Mingzhu, "And what does your master think?"

Ruan Mingzhu said, "Him? He couldn't wait to throw me off the peak. He's probably going to crack open a few jars of good wine to celebrate."

Qing Zhouxue saw not the slightest dejection on her face; on the contrary, she looked radiant. Qing Zhouxue asked in confusion, "Then why are you so happy?"

"There are only a few senior fellow apprentices on the peak, and I'm tired of looking at them anyway. Plus, I couldn't go down the mountain openly. Now it's great—" She gestured at the sky, "the vast world is all mine!"

At this moment the two of them came to a fork in the road. They parted ways there, each picking a different path.

Qing Zhouxue watched as Junior Sister Ruan darted off with the tips of her toes barely touching the ground, moving extremely fast and full of zest, her bright clothes like red clouds receding into the distance until she quickly disappeared from view.

She touched her sword and walked on, thinking to herself: Junior Sister Ruan's master dislikes her, so how is she not the least bit upset?

Rounding a bend, she happened to think of the times her own master treated her with some coldness. Just thinking about it casually made her heart feel deeply uncomfortable.

Comparing the two like this, she must indeed place Yun Shuchen more heavily in her heart.

And what is 'more heavily'—is that love?

Qing Zhouxue could not be certain, but her intuition told her this was very important, and she wanted to understand it.

*

When traveling among the mortal world, there was another set of rules: one was not allowed to use magic. If one absolutely had to, it could only be used on oneself, and could not be used to alter the fate of mortals. So Qing Zhouxue quite obediently walked slowly down the mountain, treating the Qingshuang Sword as a mere ornament.

The flames of war in the mortal world had just gone out; she heard it was a change of dynasty.

But the places where her white skirts swept past were still full of poverty and hunger.

Qing Zhouxue had seen refugees twice before—thin and ghastly, but still breathing—yet now, within her field of vision, among the dust rolled into ash, several scattered bones lay mixed at the border of the Taichu Sect's barrier, silent and soundless.

She still remembered the last time she asked her master what 'loving people' meant, and her master said those two characters were too vast and hard to explain in just a few words.

For the Daoist path, all living beings under heaven have their own laws of flourishing and extinction. Cultivators follow the natural course and nurture their innate nature—perhaps that is a kind of love.

For wandering heroes of the jianghu, finding swift justice and helping the weak—perhaps that too is a kind of love.

If one, as a person, sits high in the court and schemes from afar, sacrificing small lives to save the greater whole, that too should count as the love of sages.

But many of these loves should originate from feeling—many kinds, whether pity, sorrow, struggle, or righteous indignation. These are the natural sentiments of people, and also what makes people precious.

As for this, Qing Zhouxue could not feel the pain. She could only sense, deep in her heart, a vast snow falling, an endless expanse of white.

She walked past the border, then through several stretches of mountains and rivers, and came to a small town nearby.

The fires of war had just burned through; it was only now settling down. The streets were not lively, only a few scattered stalls. The ground seemed to bear traces of scorching flames.

At that moment a light drizzle began to fall, and the sky at the horizon was a pale duck-egg blue.

Qing Zhouxue took out a white silk umbrella with a bamboo frame from her storage ring. This was no ordinary umbrella—it was actually a magical tool capable of blocking a blow from a Spirit Transformation cultivator, repelling wind and rain with a casual shade. Yun Shuchen had handed it to her before she left, joking, "Watch the sky at dawn, watch the clouds at dusk—at least you won't get soaked."

So her master was rather good at reading the weather.

She walked through a narrow alley with the white umbrella. The rain was heavy this time, pouring down in crashing sheets, making walking somewhat laborious. Qing Zhouxue was in no hurry anyway, so she joined a few others sheltering under the protruding eave of a building, silently waiting for the rain to stop.

Under this section of eave, besides her, there were also an old woman and an old man, two or three children, a scholar hurrying along, and a girl selling flowers.

The two old folks seemed to be squabbling over something; the old man's whistling through his missing front teeth still carried plenty of vitality amid the sound of rain. The children huddled together, a string of snot nearly brushing against Qing Zhouxue's sleeve—fortunately she pulled it back in time, quietly. The scholar and the flower girl chatted while bobbing their heads; the content sounded utterly pedantic, enough to make one's teeth ache. The girl covered her mouth and nose, laughing at something.

"Miss, selling flowers on a rainy day—this area has only just settled down, and there are few passersby. Seems a bit of a pity."

"But the blooming season doesn't wait for people. When it's time to bloom, they bloom." She wrinkled her nose and smiled. "What can you do about it?"

Early summer rain comes like a tiger, but leaves like silk being drawn out.

In the blink of an eye, the dark clouds scattered, and golden light diffused once more.

Qing Zhouxue stepped out from under the eave, and amid the earthy smell of the rain-soaked soil, she caught the rich fragrance of gardenias.

She turned her head—the flower-selling girl had already moved her small stool and sat at the mouth of the alley. The damp air and the floral scent blended into a vibrant, life-filled energy.

Look at those gardenias, slightly dampened by the water yet still richly fragrant, plump and white, blooming boldly—when it was time, they simply bloomed.

No matter how many chaotic battles were fought here, how many dynasties changed, how people and things changed and lives were torn apart, blooming never heeded any of it.

And just like this flower girl, she too hawked her wares openly and boldly, in this land rising from the ashes—it was hard to look away.

Qing Zhouxue walked over and bought one, neither too big nor too small, tucking it at her waist—just right.

In the past, when she had come here a few times, she was mostly on sect missions and had no mind for other things. Now, for the first time, she carefully took in her surroundings and realized the mortal world was not all chaos and vulgarity and piles of bones, nor was it as silent and cold as the four-walled courtyard of her childhood.

It was a flowing, indomitable surge of vitality; surely there were things here worth loving.

With a faint enlightenment stirring in her heart, she promptly sought out a place away from people, sat cross-legged, and began meditating, hoping to understand an even deeper layer. The love of the many, the love of the private—perhaps both come from the same source?

It would naturally be good to attain enlightenment through this, but unfortunately, she had always been someone who cultivated with total earnestness, so focused that even if someone came at her with a knife she would not notice. The Sect Leader had given a time limit of three months; some other disciples were vanquishing demons, some were purely enjoying food and drink in the mortal world. Only Qing Zhouxue, gritting her teeth, cultivated day and night without stop. From the moment she sat down in meditation, she never rose again. Two months passed in the blink of an eye.

He turned off the water-mirror and remarked with curiosity, "This is the first time I've seen someone cultivate every day while on a journey."

He looked over at Yun Shuchen. "Is your disciple always this diligent?"

Yun Shuchen wore a faint expression, but she had been watching the whole time, even though her disciple was only sitting in boring meditation. She hummed in assent, thinking to herself: Yes, she really is like this, always has been.

"The spiritual energy down the mountain isn't as rich as in the Taichu Sect," Yue Changge yawned. "Why not just call her back?"

"Junior Sister Yue, lend her a few of those spirit pearls," the Sect Leader said after some thought, still deciding to let her continue her training, because what this child truly lacked was not cultivation base.

Yue Changge froze for a moment, then drew a few 'Recall of Joy' pearls from her bosom and smiled. "That's rather amusing. I wonder which memory the Sect Leader wants her to witness?"

The Sect Leader sighed and looked at Yun Shuchen. "She is closest to you, so pick yours, then."

Yun Shuchen raised an eyebrow. "From my journey down the mountain back then?"

'Recall of Joy' pearls could reproduce the scenes of that time; not only could one watch from the outside, but one could also step in and experience it as a spectator, as if actually present.

For Qing Zhouxue, who had no interest in touring the mortal world, this was another form of experience. Observing her master's sights and feelings from that era—she was about the same age too—would likewise broaden her horizons.

Yun Shuchen said nothing, then suddenly remembered something and frowned. "Delete a few segments for me before—"

But Yue Changge laughed and said, "This magic tool can't be used that way."

*

When Qing Zhouxue opened her eyes, Yue Changge was standing prettily before her. "Good child, stop cultivating. You'll worry the Sect Leader to death."

Qing Zhouxue was startled. "Aunt Master?"

A glossy, lustrous pearl was pressed into her palm, and Yue Changge said, "Try touching it, then press it to your brow."

She guided her nephew disciple, but Qing Zhouxue did not do as told. Instead, she set the pearl in her hand aside and looked around.

Yue Changge found it strange. "What are you doing?"

"Is this a heart-demon illusion?" Qing Zhouxue frowned in thought. "Why would Aunt Master be here? Logically, I shouldn't be running into you."

Yue Changge gave a cold snort, rolled her eyes, and directly pressed the pearl against her grand-nephew disciple's forehead. The person before her instantly stiffened, as if her three souls and six spirits had drifted away.

Now Qing Zhouxue had no choice but to believe that this was really Aunt Master Yue.

She felt her whole body float briefly, then gradually settled with the solidity of feet on the ground. When she opened her eyes, the houses around her looked very different from the present, their styles changed in many ways.

'Nephew Qing, this is a recording of your master's journey down the mountain when she was eighteen. In between your cultivation, you'd best follow the residual image and pass this journey."

Aunt Master Yue's voice drifted down from the sky. "After all, this kind of journey happens only a few times in a lifetime, so it can't be wasted like this."

Master? Eighteen?

Qing Zhouxue was stunned for a moment, then she stood up and looked around, but she did not see any shadow of Yun Shuchen.

She lifted her head to look at the sky—far away at the horizon there was a hint of morning light, but it had not yet fully brightened.

She felt a little helpless inside, and immediately understood: if her own five-hundred-year habit had not changed, there was no way she would be out of bed at this hour.

Guided by the positions of the mountains and rivers, Qing Zhouxue walked toward the direction of the Taichu Sect. She felt somewhat curious as well—what had the Taichu Sect looked like five hundred years ago?

And what had her master looked like?

Back then, the stairs had not yet been repaired and were relatively plain, nowhere near as grand as they were now.

Qing Zhouxue had just stepped over the mountain gate when she came face to face with a young girl.