WHEN THEIR TEN-DAY fast had ended, Nangong Si and Ye Wangxi set out for Mount Jiao. Naobaijin had been heavily wounded and couldn't carry his master on this long journey. The massive faewolf had transformed himself into a tiny puppy no larger than a man's palm and curled up in Nangong Si's quiver, fuzzy head hanging out.
Mo Ran saw them off at the sect's main gate. Stroking the mane of the horse he led, he grinned. "Mount Jiao is a long journey, and riding swords is too taxing. Take these horses. They were raised on spiritual grass and can cover hundreds of miles in a day. They're no match for Naobaijin, but they'll see you safely to the mountain."
The pair swung up astride their horses. From his seat, Nangong Si cupped his hands and respectfully lowered his gaze. "Thank you, Mo- xiong. No need to accompany us any farther. I hope our paths will soon cross again."
"Mn, take care. Be safe."
Mo Ran stood at the gate and watched as Nangong Si and Ye Wangxi's figures receded into the distance. As he turned to leave, he heard a creak from the forest to his left, as if a branch had snapped and fallen to the ground.
"Meow…"
Mo Ran narrowed his eyes. "A cat?" he muttered.
Ye Wangxi and Nangong Si rode down the mountain side by side, guiding the horses onto the winding, narrow road toward Wuchang Town. Sunlight streamed through the dense canopy overhead, turning the dust kicked up by their hooves into flecks of dancing brilliance.
Nangong Si turned to Ye Wangxi. As he parted his lips to speak, Naobaijin's fuzzy head popped out of the quiver, followed by two snow- white, golden-clawed paws. The little wolf pup threw its head back in two plaintive howls.
Pulling hard on the reins, Nangong Si jumped. "Watch out!"
Darts whistled at them from all directions as the horses whinnied in fright. Nangong Si and Ye Wangxi drew their swords in the same instant, falling into the old habits of their youth. They leapt up without a word, Nangong Si's blade flying left, Ye Wangxi's sword dancing right. A series of clangs, and the poison-tipped pear-blossom needles fell to the ground.
Ye Wangxi tossed out a talisman and brought down a barrier around them. "Who's there?!" Nangong Si bellowed.
A shadow flickered over them, though there was nary a cloud in sight. They raised their eyes to see a man at the tip of a tree branch, his wide sleeves flapping and long beard flying. Backlit by the bright sky, he peered down at them, his eyes filled with hateful scorn.
Nangong Si placed him as Huang Xiaoyue, the cousin of the former sect leader of Jiangdong Hall.
He stared daggers of ice at Ye Wangxi, lofty and silent up above.
Around them came the ominous rustling of leaves as a hundred Jiangdong Hall disciples stepped out of the forest. Each wore a scarlet circlet at their brow, signifying their status as foremost disciples of the sect.
Huang Xiaoyue twirled his beard around a finger. "It seems you two enjoyed your stay at Sisheng Peak. You've been holed up in there for ten long days—it's really very inconsiderate of you."
"Huang Xiaoyue, why must it be you again?" Nangong Si fumed. "So what if it is?" Huang Xiaoyue replied evenly. "Don't tell me you're unaware of the grievances between Jiangdong Hall and Rufeng Sect."
"We fended off four of your sect's attacks between Linyi and Sichuan, yet you still insist on hounding us?" Nangong Si ground out. "What grievance do you speak of—haven't you had your fill? Your sister- in-law murdered your brother, and the one who revealed it was Xu Shuanglin, yet you insist on picking a fight with us—haven't you any shame?"
"Shame? I think the shameless one is you, little gongzi," Huang Xiaoyue growled. "It's your Rufeng Sect that brought my Jiangdong Hall to ruin. Do you deny it?"
"If you insist on avenging yourself on Rufeng Sect, then let justice be determined out in the open," said Ye Wangxi. "Instead you waylay us on the road and attempt an assassination."
"Shut up. Girls shouldn't chime in when men are talking." Huang Xiaoyue flicked his sleeves. "Don't get ideas just because your shitty old man raised you like a boy. You'll never be anything but a stupid wench. A woman's place is in the kitchen—who do you think you are, talking back to me?"
"Huang Xiaoyue, you watch your mouth!" Nangong Si snarled. "Heh, watch my mouth? Let's lay out the facts, shall we?" Huang
Xiaoyue pointed at Nangong Si and continued, menacing, "Your father
seduced a married woman and convinced that bitch to poison my brother and seize his position. As for her"—he jabbed a vicious finger at Ye Wangxi—"her bastard yifu aired Jiangdong Hall's dirty laundry to the world and smeared our reputation. I've led our sect's best fighters here today to get justice for Jiangdong Hall and the rest of the world!"
He leapt down with a flourish as the crowd of leering disciples rushed toward Nangong Si and Ye Wangxi.
Before they reached their targets, a great swath of flames roared up to block their path. Gale winds tore through the trees, throwing the disciples several yards backward.
"Mo-xiong?" Nangong Si exclaimed.
It was indeed none other than Mo Ran. Willow whip in hand, he alighted on a tree facing Huang Xiaoyue and fixed him with a cold stare.
Huang Xiaoyue hadn't expected this encounter. His expression grew ugly as he cast about for a retort. "Mo-zongshi, what brings you down the mountain today? Seeing the sights?"
"Zongshi, why don't you ask your disciple why he's hiding in a tree pretending to be a cat."
Huang Xiaoyue's brow was twisted, his complexion as sallow as the yellow of his namesake. "What does Zongshi mean by this?" he said between gritted teeth.
"Huang-qianbei, I should be the one to ask you," Mo Ran replied. "You've attacked Sisheng Peak's guests in our own territory. Did you find my sect so pristine you were inspired to sprinkle blood onto our dirt?"
"We're no longer on the mountain; your sect has no right to meddle. I'm avenging my dead brother—Mo-zongshi, no one asked your opinion!"
"Huang-qianbei is quite correct," said Mo Ran. "We've come down from the mountain. Sisheng Peak has no business meddling in the grievances of private citizens."
Huang Xiaoyue snorted. "Well, step aside!"
Mo Ran didn't budge, but Jiangui glowed brighter, its scarlet leaves glittering like beads of blood. "But what if I myself want to meddle?"
"You!"
He had no illusions about Mo Ran's abilities, but he couldn't back down with blood vengeance on the line. He rumbled threateningly, "Mo- zongshi, do you intend to make an enemy of Jiangdong Hall?"
"Oh, not at all. I simply want to ensure my guests make it out of Sichuan in one piece," Mo Ran replied. "Jiangdong Hall or Jiangdong Wall—it doesn't matter who's standing in my way."
Huang Xiaoyue narrowed his eyes. The hatred in them was tangible, as if they might burst into flames and burn Mo Ran and the cypress he stood on to ash. "You insist on protecting these two Rufeng Sect vermin?"
"Vermin?" Mo Ran asked coldly. "Qianbei, please enlighten me: what do Miss Ye and Nangong-gongzi have to do with Jiangdong Hall's misadventures?"
Huang Xiaoyue didn't respond.
"Did they instigate Jiangdong Hall's power struggles? Expose Jiangdong Hall's scandals?" Mo Ran stared at Huang Xiaoyue. "Did they kill the previous sect leader? Did they sabotage your brother?"
"Who cares?!" Huang Xiaoyue shouted furiously. "The son shoulders the father's debts! That's the way of the world!"
"Is that so?" Mo Ran asked carelessly. "No need for more words between us, Huang-qianbei. Let's let our weapons do the talking."
"Mo Weiyu!" Huang Xiaoyue sputtered in rage. "You're being completely unreasonable!"
"How interesting—who's the unreasonable one here?" A new voice, sharp and haughty, rang out from the mountain path. Brandishing Longcheng before him, Xue Meng strolled out of the forest, his frigid silver blade blinding in the sun. "Screaming bloody murder right on my doorstep, as if you could just kill as you please—does Jiangdong Hall think everyone in Sisheng Peak is dead? Aren't you asking for trouble?"
Huang Xiaoyue knew he couldn't defeat Mo Ran in a head-to-head battle, but he might have conceivably found an opportunity to kill Nangong Si and Ye Wangxi while Mo Ran was occupied fighting the others. Yet now Xue Meng had stepped in as well—the darling of the heavens who had taken the top prize at the Spiritual Mountain Competition. Who didn't know the fearsome might of the blade Longcheng in his hand?
These two cousins both stood outside the sect to defend Nangong Si and Ye Wangxi. No matter what tricks Huang Xiaoyue had up his sleeve, there was no way he could catch both of them off guard.
Yet at Xue Meng's arrival, Mo Ran's expression grew somber. "Go back," he said to Xue Meng.
"I'm here to help—"
"I'm acting of my own accord; this has nothing to do with Sisheng Peak. Don't interfere."
Mo Ran frowned. What was this kid thinking? Even if Jiangdong Hall's power had waned, it was still one of the nine great sects of the upper cultivation realm. It shouldn't be underestimated. In addition, the niece of Jiangdong Hall's former leader was wedded to one of Huohuang Pavilion's senior disciples. If Xue Meng came to Mo Ran's aid now, Sisheng Peak would effectively make enemies with not just one but two of the upper cultivation realm's sects. This wouldn't do.
"Go back," said Mo Ran.
But Xue Meng was too naïve to tease out these subtleties; he was merely galled that Mo Ran didn't want his help. As they stared each other down, a cloud of dust rose in the distance. A white steed arrowed toward them, its lovely rider clad in snow-bright robes with a pipa on her back—a cultivator from Kunlun Taxue Palace.
"Urgent! An urgent message!" she called out, brows knitted, urging her horse to greater speed.
She rounded the corner at full gallop, only to come across an apparent standoff. Pulling her horse up, she blinked at them in confusion from her saddle. "Urgent—uh… What… What are you all doing?"
The sudden arrival of the messenger put an end to Mo Ran and Huang Xiaoyue's fight before it had even begun. At Xue Zhengyong's invitation, Huang Xiaoyue went up to Sisheng Peak, and Nangong Si and Ye Wangxi followed behind.
Once in Loyalty Hall, Taxue Palace's messenger bowed respectfully. Vermilion lips parted as she announced, "I bring an urgent message—we have news of Xu Shuanglin's whereabouts." The color drained from Ye Wangxi's face.
"Our sect dispatched ten thousand of our jade butterflies to follow Xu Shuanglin's trail," the messenger continued. "This morning, two finally returned. They discovered traces of a spiritual disturbance near Mount Huang. The palace leader believes Xu Shuanglin may have taken refuge there. She gave immediate orders to deliver this news to each of the major sects so you may convene and discuss."
Xue Zhengyong was overjoyed. "You found him?"
"We cannot be sure yet," replied the messenger. "But the jade butterflies reported a persistent stench of blood lingering around Mount Huang in recent days. There's a good chance Xu Shuanglin is hiding on the mountain."
Xue Zhengyong clapped once and jumped to his feet. "Outstanding! Now that we have something to go on, there's no time to lose. What is the palace leader thinking?"
"The palace leader is of the same mind as you, Sect Leader. She feels that time is of the essence, and we ought to investigate at once."
"Excellent!" Xue Zhengyong turned to Huang Xiaoyue. "Huang- daozhang, why don't we go together? Xu Shuanglin is the one to blame for your troubles—if we catch him, you can avenge your brother."
Huang Xiaoyue's heart thudded in his chest. He knew it would be nigh impossible for him to kill Xu Shuanglin on his own. Besides, all this talk of avenging his brother was nothing more than flimsy pretense. After all, it wasn't as if the young Nangong Si and Ye Wangxi really had anything to do with his brother's death. Huang Xiaoyue blustered about justice for his brother, but privately, he had other motives. The recent crisis had severely diminished Jiangdong Hall's strength, and Huang Xiaoyue had long heard rumors that Rufeng Sect possessed a secret trove of treasure. If he could capture Nangong Si and Ye Wangxi and force them to release the ancestral seal, those valuables would fall into his hands.
He clenched his fists within his sleeves. After a moment's consideration, he forced himself to smile, face creasing like a desiccated tangerine. "It's too early to say whether Xu Shuanglin is truly on Mount Huang. The bridges between Jiangdong Hall and Rufeng Sect have already been burned. It's not only my personal grievance that hangs in the balance, but the reputations of all sects. This will require a careful reckoning."
"Fair enough," said Xue Zhengyong. "How about we find Xu Shuanglin for your personal grievance first, and you can settle your debts with Rufeng Sect later?"
"An interesting proposition, Xue-zhangmen. But Rufeng Sect is scorched earth these days. Where do you suppose I ought to go to settle my debts?"
"I'm afraid I don't know—Huang-daozhang, you'll have to answer that question yourself," Xue Zhengyong chuckled. "Since Rufeng Sect has been reduced to a pile of rubble, why are you in such a hurry to eliminate these two youngsters?"
"You!" Huang Xiaoyue snarled, waving his sleeves with a scowl. "That's none of your business."
"You were talking about the reputations of all the sects just a moment ago, but now it's none of our business?" Xue Meng asked with a smile. "Jiangdong Hall is one of the nine great sects of the upper cultivation realm—shouldn't you be a bit more consistent?"
Huang Xiaoyue knew he was in the wrong, but he could think of no riposte and thus resorted to glaring viciously at Xue Zhengyong in silence. At last he shook out his sleeves and stalked to the gate with Jiangdong Hall's disciples trailing after him. Leaping onto his sword, he led the crowd out of Sisheng Peak toward Mount Huang.
Ye Wangxi was weighed down with remorse. "Xue-zhangmen, I'm so sorry for the trouble. We—"
"A hunter wouldn't kill a baby bird that fell into his net," said Xue Zhengyong. As he watched Jiangdong Hall's contingent dwindle into the distance, his smile faded, and his eyes grew cold. "Jiangdong Hall is beyond vicious." He gazed into the sunlight outside the hall, a faint frown creasing his brow. Finally, he sighed. "Come, let's go to Mount Huang."
The party from Sisheng Peak set out on the long journey to Mount Huang via sword. By the time they reached the mountain, a large group of cultivators from each of the other nine major sects had already convened at its base. Indistinct faces darted to and fro like a school of carp, the reason for their urgency unclear.
Chu Wanning was first to dismount from his sword. His first steps on the ground wobbled slightly, his face stark white. Fortunately his complexion was pale to begin with, and no one noticed aught amiss—no one but Mo Ran. He sidled up to Chu Wanning and lightly rubbed the back of his hand while nobody was looking. "Shizun, you flew very well."
"Hm?"
"Really." Mo Ran smiled.
Chu Wanning cleared his throat and looked away. Raising his eyes to the top of Mount Huang, he found it shrouded in a visible haze of malevolent qi. At the moment, the leaders of the other eight sects were heading the group at the foot of the mountain. Hands raised, they funneled spiritual energy into a towering barrier before them. Xue Zhengyong touched down and rushed over to help.
The rest of Sisheng Peak's cultivators arrived one after another. Xue Meng landed nimbly next to Mo Ran and Chu Wanning, frowning at the scene before them. "What are they doing? Why aren't we going up the mountain?"
"It's not that we aren't—it's that we can't," Mo Ran replied. "Why not?" Xue Meng asked, perplexed.
"Mount Huang is one of the cultivation realm's four great evil mountains," said Chu Wanning. "It's a strange place, and one not easily breached."
Xue Meng was taken aback. "I've heard of the four great holy mountains, but not four great evil ones. What mountains are these?"
"Mount Jiao, Mount Shell—"
"Mount Hell ?" Xue Meng asked incredulously. "…Shell, referring to the Xuanwu—the Ebon Tortoise." "Ohhh." A flush crept up Xue Meng's cheeks. "Uh-huh."
"Mount Liao, and this right here—Mount Huang." Chu Wanning paused. "They're relics of the cultivation realm's bloody past. People seldom speak of them these days. I only know of them because I came across some obscure records."
"But why would evil mountains exist in the first place?"
Chu Wanning responded with a question of his own. "Do you remember how the founder of Rufeng Sect prevailed over the evil jiao dragon?"
"I do," said Xue Meng. "The jiao haunted the East Sea. Rufeng Sect's founder defeated the monster and sealed it within the Golden Drum Tower and formed a blood contract to use it for his own ends. After the founder's death, the jiao transformed into a mountain. Its sinews turned to earth, its blood to rivers, its bones to boulders, and its scales to the woods on its slopes. The peak protects the graves of generations of Rufeng disciples, so they call Mount Jiao the heroes' tomb."
Chu Wanning nodded. "Precisely. Mount Jiao was formed from the evil spirit of the Azure Dragon. You're familiar with the constellations of the four auspicious beasts—the Azure Dragon, the Vermilion Bird, the White Tiger, and the Ebon Tortoise. These beasts are legendary guardians of the four cardinal directions, but some of their descendants are evil beings that wreak havoc upon the earth."
Comprehension dawned on Xue Meng. "So the other evil mountains are also formed from the spirits of evil beasts, like Mount Jiao?"
"Mn."
"Then Mount Huang…was the descendant of the Vermilion Bird?" Xue Meng whipped around to look up at the mountain crouching within that malignant haze like a colossal beast. Its central peak was precipitous, but the slopes at its shoulders were gentle—not unlike a phoenix crowing with its neck outstretched.
"Indeed," answered Chu Wanning. "The four evil mountains each have their own dangers. For example, no one can scale Mount Jiao unless escorted by a descendant of Rufeng Sect's founding bloodline. Dragon sinew vines will drag any trespassers into the mud and bury them alive.
Mount Huang is similar."
"Weird." Xue Meng turned to look at the sect leaders lined up in front of the barrier, his father among them. "Everyone knows Mount Jiao belongs to Rufeng Sect. Then what about Mount Huang? Don't we just need to find a descendant of whoever subdued the Vermilion Bird and drag them over?"
Mo Ran at last broke his silence. "If the descendant were still alive, sure. But she just recently passed away in an accident."
Xue Meng blinked. "You know her?"
"I do," Mo Ran said indifferently. "We all knew her."