THE NEWCOMER'S FEATURES were exquisite and haughty, his limpid eyes wide with shock in the lanternlight.
Xue Meng.
Chu Wanning froze; he had no idea how much Xue Meng had seen or heard. Mo Ran was the first to break the silence. "I had something to discuss with Shizun."
Xue Meng narrowed his eyes. He had been passing by when he heard suggestive panting coming from this section of the forest and figured it was a pair of depraved and misguided disciples trysting in the backwoods.
Honestly, it wasn't any of Xue Meng's business. None of the ten great sects save Wubei Temple and Shangqing Pavilion explicitly forbade romantic relationships or dual cultivation. Sisheng Peak had a rule against debauchery, but that was meant to forbid frequenting brothels or partnerships that violated social norms. But Xue Meng was Chu Wanning's disciple, after all—his very first disciple. All these years Xue Meng had held up Chu Wanning's every word and action as a standard for himself. Since Chu Wanning disliked public displays of affection, Xue Meng mindlessly followed him in disdaining cultivator pairs and dual- cultivation couples.
The mountain's backwoods were a crucial area where the barrier to the ghost realm was thin. For two people to get cozy in such a place—did they lack all sense of decorum? Indignant, Xue Meng had stomped over in a huff, lantern aloft.
He would never have imagined the couple caught in the halo of light would be these two. Xue Meng was thunderstruck. So much so that he failed to properly greet Chu Wanning before blurting, What are you two doing here?
The barrier here was solid; it wasn't in need of repair. There were no spiritual plants here, nor any scenery worth looking at. It was far out of the way, so an idle stroll couldn't possibly have brought them here.
Under normal circumstances, if one were to ask Xue Meng:
"Suppose there were two people who, in the dead of night, refused to walk on the broad and bright main road, chose not to sit in the beautiful and scenic back garden, but instead insisted on talking somewhere impossibly secluded… Young master, what would you think?"
Xue Meng would certainly scoff, "What kind of talk are they having? Dirty talk?"
If one then continued: "Both are unwedded men who've known each other a long time, equal in looks and status. Young master, what kind of relationship do you think they share?"
Xue Meng would definitely roll his eyes. "What kind of relationship do you think they share? They're clearly a pair of cut-sleeves, snip- snipping away—disgusting."
And if one pressed on with: "Ha ha, Young master, you're incorrect.
These two are actually master and disciple. Young master, please refrain from unseem—"
Odds were, Xue Meng wouldn't let them finish the sentence before slamming his hands on the table and bolting to his feet. "What nonsense! How could that be?! Where are these immoral beasts? I'll kick them through the mountain gates and chase them off Sisheng Peak!"
But if he were told that said disciple was called Mo Weiyu and the master was Chu Wanning—then, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Xue Meng would pause, his complexion flickering through a rainbow of colors before he sat, palm pressed to his forehead. "Um, forget everything I just said. S- s-start over from the beginning. I'm sure there's another explanation here."
Which was all to say—Xue Meng would never—could never—associate Chu Wanning with anything dirty, inappropriate, or immoral. He swiftly assumed he must have misheard. But he still felt bewildered, mumbling to himself, "What kind of conversation do you need to have here?"
Chu Wanning opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Mo Ran squeezed his hand under his wide sleeve, cautioning him to silence. Chu Wanning's lies couldn't fool a three-year-old. It was better if Mo Ran did it.
Mo Ran said, "At dusk, I saw an osmanthus rice-cake spirit here." Chu Wanning shut his mouth.
"What?" Xue Meng asked, baffled.
"An osmanthus rice cake that cultivated into a spirit," Mo Ran continued, all earnestness. "It was just about ten inches tall with a lotus leaf on its head. It even had a little tail, with a pale blue light shining at the tip."
"What kind of beast is that? I've never seen it in any books." "Me neither," Mo Ran replied with a smile. "I wondered if it was
some long-lost demon that escaped when Rufeng Sect's demon-
suppressing tower fell, so I brought Shizun out here to take a look with me."
Xue Meng instantly let out a breath of relief. He didn't know why he felt so reassured by this explanation, but the tension in his face eased.
Holding the lantern high, he stepped closer to them and looked around. "Did you guys find it?"
"No."
Xue Meng glared at Mo Ran. "I didn't ask you. I'm asking Shizun." "…We did not," Chu Wanning said.
Mo Ran grinned. "That sweet rice cake probably saw Shizun and thought it would wind up as dessert, so it scampered away to hide."
After a beat, Chu Wanning snapped, "Mo Weiyu! Do you want to go copy books in the library again?"
At this sharp back-and-forth, Xue Meng's initial unease finally dissipated like mist. He sighed to himself. For a moment, he'd actually thought his shizun and that scoundrel Mo Ran shared some unspeakable secret… How absurd, how impossible! His shizun was a cupped handful of the purest sacred water in the world. No one could touch or pollute him.
"Enough about us—what about you?" Mo Ran asked. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm looking for Veggiebun," Xue Meng mumbled. "For Mom." Mo Ran arched a brow. "That new fat cat?"
"Mn."
"The orange one with the striped forehead, who won't eat meat and only eats fish?"
"Yeah, have you seen him?" Xue Meng sighed, visibly exasperated. "I don't understand how such a fat cat can run so fast. I've looked everywhere a person can look on both sides of the mountain, but I've seen neither hide nor hair of him…" Struck by a thought, his eyes widened. "Ah! What if the rice-cake spirit ate him?" he exclaimed in alarm.
Neither Chu Wanning nor Mo Ran could muster a response. Mo Ran badly wanted to laugh, but he managed to turn his guffaw into a cough. "Um, that rice cake looked pretty small. It's a demon, but I doubt it can do much. If Veggiebun ran into it, I think the rice cake should be the one to worry, not the tabby."
Xue Meng stroked his chin. He considered Veggiebun's physique and agreed, "Makes sense… That sounds about right…"
"The backwoods are dangerous," Chu Wanning said. "Don't go any farther. I'll help you search."
Xue Meng hastily waved his hand. "I wouldn't dream of inconveniencing Shizun."
"I have nothing urgent to attend to," insisted Chu Wanning. "I'll help with your search, then I have to go to Loyalty Hall for the elders' meeting. Mo Ran can join too—the search will go faster with three of us."
Mo Ran was speechless. Chu Wanning was impressively optimistic; did he seriously think Mo Ran's body was like a flame that could blaze up and go out with a snuff? He was being asked to stand up and look for a cat, now? He hadn't even gone soft yet.
Noting both the discomfort on Mo Ran's face and how he hadn't moved a muscle, Xue Meng asked, "What's wrong?"
"Oh, nothing," Mo Ran answered. "I'm just feeling a little strange.
You two go on ahead, I'll join you in a few minutes."
Chu Wanning looked at him askance. Only then did he notice the difference between Mo Ran's clothes and his own. Mo Ran usually wore slim-fitting black and gold robes, which cut a striking silhouette. They were well-suited for combat, but their shortcomings were becoming clear: when worn without a cloak, any sign of arousal would be obvious.
In the dark, Chu Wanning stood in stunned silence. His usually cool face flushed as red as the last rays of sunset falling on the cloudy whiteness of ice. Bitter cold and warm light melded, setting the translucent surface aglow with rosy dusk.
After this incident, Chu Wanning refused to fool around with Mo Ran on Sisheng Peak under any circumstance. It was by pure coincidence that things started to get busy around this time. The sects throughout the cultivation realm were restless; every day Xu Shuanglin lived meant another sleepless night. They sought the help of Tianyin Pavilion, a judicial organization independent of the ten great sects, skilled at investigating thorny cases. But Xu Shuanglin had acted ruthlessly and left no evidence behind. Even the Tianyin Pavilion Master could do little.
Near the end of the month, Li Wuxin reached the limits of his patience. He sent out a heroes' invitation, summoning the leaders and key elders of sects large and small to Spiritual Mountain for a conference. Chu Wanning and Xue Zhengyong were naturally among those in attendance.
The last major congregation at Spiritual Mountain had been the competition in which Xue Meng and Nangong Si had distinguished themselves. In the blink of an eye, the entire cultivation realm had since been turned upside-down. The seats that should've belonged to Rufeng Sect were barren, and Huohuang Pavilion was a shadow of its former self. The newly named sect leader was a junior who couldn't speak without stammering, and sat cowed and silent amidst the crowd. The masters of Wubei Temple spoke every word with care, refusing to touch on the scandals of their previous leader. Remembering a time when all these sects had gathered here in high spirits, Xue Zhengyong felt those scenes were from another lifetime. He sighed.
On the dais, Jiang Xi had been selected leader of the ten great sects, responsible for overseeing the entire Nangong Xu investigation. He was as night and day from the previous leader, Nangong Liu, who was never without a smile, courteous to everyone regardless of their status, and careful to never offend. But Jiang Xi? Practically the moment the assorted sect leaders revealed the results of the vote and asked Jiang Xi to take charge, he coolly made himself comfortable in what was once Nangong Liu's seat. Nangong Liu had hemmed and hawed before accepting the position, acting out the expected show of humble refusal. Even after he'd taken the seat, he spent a solid hour giving stately speeches, spittle flying as he waxed eloquent about how grateful he was for their confidence, how earnestly he'd seek guidance from all present, and how sincerely he asked for their patience.
Jiang Xi spoke four words. "As it should be."
He genuinely said this position should've been his. But that was Sect Leader Jiang—as unhinged as he was rich, and sorely lacking in both patience and tact.
Xue Zhengyong murmured to Chu Wanning: "He's skipped out on more than one gathering at Spiritual Mountain, hasn't he?"
Chu Wanning didn't pay much mind to these machinations of power. He frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Ever since Nangong Liu stepped into the position of leader and Rufeng was recognized as the foremost sect, Jiang Xi stopped attending sect leader gatherings…"
Eyeing Jiang Xi, Chu Wanning said, "That man is arrogant. He wouldn't submit to a wastrel."
Xue Zhengyong felt wronged. "I wouldn't submit to a wastrel either."
Chu Wanning smiled faintly. "Sect Leader, you were merely enduring it; you didn't submit."
As they spoke, a member of Guyueye Sect's retinue bustled over to their table. He bowed, holding out a brocade box.
Xue Zhengyong turned. "What's this?"
The attendant shook his head, pointing at his ears, then mouth—he was a deaf and mute servant.
Studying him, Chu Wanning noticed this servant was different from the other Guyueye disciples—around his neck hung a silver snake pendant.
"Hanlin the Sage…?"
The servant noticed the direction of Chu Wanning's gaze and nodded several times. He bowed low, lifting the box over his head to present it. The brocade surface was adorned with an exquisitely detailed snake emblem. Xue Zhengyong guessed aloud, "He probably works directly under Hanlin the Sage."
He looked toward Guyueye's table. As expected, the world's foremost medicinal zongshi—Hanlin the Sage, Hua Binan—was quietly watching them, only his eyes visible in the slice of skin between his hat and veil.