Chapter 124: Shizun Awakens

The barrier around Red Lotus Pavilion glowed and shimmered,

day and night, throughout the seasons. Those within remained in, and those

without were kept out.

Five years passed in the blink of an eye, the world turning like a

carousel lantern, changing every day, changing every moon. In teahouses, in

history books…those years became pieces of tales told, lines written in

stories.

This was what had happened—

In the first year of Chu Wanning's seclusion, his disciple Mo Ran

descended the mountain while Xue Meng and Shi Mei stayed at Sisheng

Peak to pursue cultivation on their own. That year, Mo Ran's handwriting

got a little neater, Xue Meng broke through to the ninth level of Nirvana

Blade, and Shi Mei left to study with the medicine sect Guyueye at the end

of the year, where he learned much.

During that time, Mo Ran paid a visit to the Chang family of salt

merchants in Yizhou, asking to see Chang-gongzi about a personal matter,

only to find that the man had passed unexpectedly a few days prior. Ever

since he had learned while in the underworld that Chang-gongzi had been in

cahoots with the fake Gouchen, Mo Ran had been hoping to pry some

information out of him. But his quarry was one step ahead of him and had

already silenced the witness—even the body had been burnt to ash. A dead

end.

In the second year of Chu Wanning's seclusion, the cultivation world

held the Spiritual Mountain Competition. Xue Meng won first place, Mei

Hanxue second, and Nangong Si third. Shi Mei tended to the sick and

injured across the lower cultivation realm, while Mo Ran roamed the land,

defeating evil fiends and doing good deeds wheresoever he went, before

retreating into the mountains to cultivate and disappearing without a trace.

The third year of Chu Wanning's seclusion fell on a ghost year,

teeming with yin energy. The barrier where they had fought that bloody

battle at Butterfly Town became weak, and ghosts and fiends swarmed into

the world of the living, terrorizing the people. The disciples of Sisheng

Peak, led by Xue Meng, fought to suppress the menace. Although the

situation was not so dire as it had been when evil ghosts had filled the skies,

it was nevertheless a disastrous year of misery and destitution.

The upper cultivation realm, being large and populous, barred its

doors in self-protection. Each of its nine major sects dispatched hundreds of

disciples to guard the border between the upper and lower cultivation

realms. They built an evil-repelling wall, preventing both fiends and

refugees from moving east. Impoverished fugitives from the lower

cultivation realms were rebuffed at the wall and abandoned to their fate; the

border defense kept out ghosts and humans alike. And so there was peace

and calm within the wall, while corpses littered the ground at its foot. Xue

Zhengyong tried many times to negotiate with the upper cultivation realm

to no avail. That year, all the blood spilt by the disciples of Sisheng Peak at

Butterfly Town flowed eastward.

At the end of the year, Mo Ran, who had been cultivating in seclusion

deep in the mountains, received a letter from his uncle. Learning that there

was trouble in Sichuan, he stepped back into the world.

It was the fourth year of Chu Wanning's seclusion. Mo Ran and

Xue Meng fought side by side, the two young masters of Sisheng Peak

leading the charge in the lower cultivation realm, driving demonic fiends

from the land. In the final battle, once again at Butterfly Town, Xue Ziming

felled ghosts and demons by the hundreds and thousands, while Mo Weiyu

repaired the Heavenly Rift, singlehandedly sealing away the evil.

In the following days, the upper cultivation realm reopened their

borders and once again allowed the people of the lower cultivation realm to

enter. Xue Meng and Mo Ran became famous the world over, the former for

being the son of the phoenix whose prestige was unmatched, the latter

becoming known as "Mo-zongshi" for repairing the Heavenly Rift with

barrier techniques almost identical to Chu Wanning's.

So time flowed, all things ever-changing.

Though Xue Meng had made a name for himself at the Spiritual

Mountain Competition, he did not let it get to his head and did not grow

complacent as he would have in his younger years. He went diligently to

the bamboo forest to cultivate and train at every opportunity, whether in

winter or summer, and even when sick.

He remembered his shizun's words: even without a holy weapon, the

darling of the heavens was still the darling of the heavens. But his natural

advantages were no longer sufficient to place him ahead of the curve; he

now had to work harder than ever to offset a disadvantage instead.

Sometimes, after completing a set of blade techniques, when he

landed lithely on the ground and turned his head, he seemed almost to catch

a glimpse of a small figure sitting on the rock as the sunlight streamed

through the bamboo, whistling through a leaf. He couldn't help but recall

that day when Chu Wanning, turned tiny, had watched him practice his

blade in the forest and guided his rhythm with a whistled tune. Glancing at

that rock, Xue Meng could almost hear the melody. He closed his eyes,

focusing his mind and letting his breath go still, before snapping them open

just as a withered bamboo leaf came drifting down.

Longcheng sang, and the flash of the blade reflected in his eyes. The

shadow of the blade extended and retracted with intent, its strike swift as

the surging tides and the flash of lightning, its withdrawal unhurried as the

flurrying of snow in the endless sky. When Longcheng fell still and he

stood straight once more, that withered leaf had already been sliced into a

million pieces, silently drifting to the ground by his feet.

With his head bowed, he could almost be mistaken for that foolhardy

young boy. But when he looked up, those straight brows and clear, steady

eyes were like the meeting of river and sea, a rapid stream surging into vast

openness, melding into unbound tranquility.

It had been five years.

Xue Meng raised his blade and wiped its frosty edge clean with a

square of white cloth. He was raising the blade to return it to its scabbard

when he was interrupted by hurried footsteps coming from a distance. A

disciple rushed in, hollering nonstop, "Young master! Young master!"

"What is it?" Xue Meng frowned. "Where's your composure? Pull

yourself together. What happened?"

"The Red Lotus Pavilion—" The disciple was red in the face and

gasping from how fast he'd run. "M-Master Huaizui left! Y-Yuheng Elder—

w-woke up!"

With a clang, Longcheng, the veteran of a hundred battles, tumbled

from its owner's hand to the ground. Xue Meng's fair and handsome face

drained of all color before immediately turning bright red, his mouth

opening and closing mutely. He dashed off toward the southern summit of

Sisheng Peak at breakneck speed, leaving even his own weapon behind,

forgotten in the grass. He nearly tripped over a rock on the way, stumbling

and staggering.

"Shizun! Shizun!"

Despite having just given a lecture on the need for composure, Xue

Ziming certainly wasted no time flinging his own to the ground.

He arrived at the Red Lotus Pavilion to see Xue Zhengyong striding

out. Before Xue Meng could set a foot inside, Xue Zhengyong, grinning

broadly, held out a hand to stop his son from charging in like his life

depended on it.

Xue Meng was beside himself. "Dad!"

"Yes, yes, I know you want to see Yuheng," Xue Zhengyong said

with a smile. "But he's tired from his recovery, and only spoke a few words

to me before falling back asleep. Surely you wouldn't disturb your shizun's

rest?"

"I mean, yeah, but…" Xue Meng faltered. But waiting out these five

years had been so awfully hard, and there was so much he wanted to tell his

shizun; he wanted so badly to run in right now to tell Shizun how he had

won first place at the Spiritual Mountain Competition, about all the ghosts

and demons he had put down, about his…

"Be sensible now."

The phrase be sensible was Xue Meng's weakness, always able to

stop him in his tracks and make him listen. He heaved a long sigh and

stopped trying to shuffle past, though he craned his neck around his brawny

father as if hoping to peek through the slightly ajar door and see the person

on the bed. Xue Meng pressed his lips together, not quite willing to give up.

"Can I just—just go in and take a quick look at Shizun. I won't make a

sound."

"You expect me to believe that, with the way you make a ruckus and

a half whenever you're happy?" Xue Zhengyong shot him a glare. "Don't

think I've forgotten how you won at the Spiritual Mountain Competition

and acted so suave in front of outsiders but hollered about it for four or five

days straight the minute you got home. You wouldn't stop telling people

how you kicked Nangong Si off his wolf; you told the story so many times

even Auntie Li at Mengpo Hall can recite it word for word. You? Not make

a sound? Hah!"

"Fine." Xue Meng relented, drooping where he stood. "Father is

right."

"Well of course. When has your dad ever been wrong?"

Xue Meng made a sour face, but he still had to know. "Dad, how's

Shizun doing?"

"Pretty good. Master Huaizui even managed to purge the remaining

poison from the Heart-Pluck Willow."

"Ah, so Shizun won't turn into little Xia-shidi anymore?"

"Ha ha, nope."

Xue Meng scratched his head, a little disappointed to hear he'd seen

the last of Xia Sini. "Then—then what about everything else? Is he feeling

okay?"

"Don't worry, he's fine. The only thing not fine was the look on his

face when he found out he'd been asleep for five years!" Xue Zhengyong

chuckled as he recalled Chu Wanning's expression. "Good thing he's still

tired, or else he'd be grilling me this very minute. Oh yeah, speaking of—"

Suddenly recalling something, he said, "Meng-er, do me a favor. Your

shizun missed quite a bit, out of the world as he was for so long. It'll be too

much for us to try to catch him up on everything ourselves, and it'd be

tiring for him to listen to us tell it, too. How about this: go ask your mom

for some money and make a trip down the mountain to buy some books in

Wuchang Town. Don't they have those chronicle-type books, the ones

where they record everything big and small? Get him a couple to read."

Xue Meng could practically smell his ulterior motives—his sly old

fox of a dad obviously thought his son was being a bother and was trying to

kick him off the mountain with the excuse of an errand. But then again, the

errand was for his shizun, so it was…not unacceptable. Chu Wanning was

asleep now anyway, and it was true that Xue Meng might not be able

contain himself if he were to enter the room right now. There was a chance

he'd end up running over and waking him.

So he sighed and mumbled reluctantly, "Fine, I'll go get the stinkin'

books."

"Get a couple different ones, for both the upper and lower cultivation

realms. Yuheng likes to read anyway."

"Okay, all right."

So it was that Xue Meng lumbered dejectedly down the mountain

alone. He wasn't much of a reader himself; when he finally arrived at the

bookseller's at Wuchang Town, he scanned the titles but couldn't figure out

what was what. He squatted down to ask the vendor: "Uncle, do you have

any books about recent events in the cultivation world? Can you pick me a

couple?"

The vendor, who was quite excited to see a disciple from Sisheng

Peak even if he didn't recognize the son of the phoenix, Xue Ziming

himself, responded with great enthusiasm, "Books about recent events? Of

course, of course! I've got both historical chronicles and fictional

adaptations, all kinds of biographies and annals, regional chronicles, demon

suppression records, even manuscripts from ten of the most famous

storytellers in the land. What would Xianjun like?"

All this babbling was giving Xue Meng a headache, so he waved a

hand and said, "Just—just gimme all of it; money's no issue."

The phrases most dear to a businessman are not I love you, I care

about you, or I want you, but I'll buy it, money's no issue, and one of each.

Thus the vendor immediately grinned from ear to ear, rubbing his hands

together as he turned to gather piles of books from the rack to fulfill

Xue Meng's order.

With nothing better to do, Xue Meng casually flipped through some of

the books on the stand. Soon he happened across a thin little booklet that

seemed rather interesting. The page he'd flipped open read:

CULTIVATION WORLD WEALTH RANKING

FIRST PLACE: Jiang Xi

Rainbell Isle Guyueye Sect Leader

SECOND PLACE: Nangong Liu

Linyi Rufeng Sect Leader

THIRD PLACE: Ma Yun

West Lake Taobao Estate Master

And so on and so forth, down the entire page covered in tiny writing.

Xue Meng at once got fired up, eager to discover his own rank. He scanned

the page four times, then five, then again until his eyes started to cross, yet

still couldn't find the name "Xue Meng." Somewhat crestfallen, then a little

mad, but mostly undeterred, he flipped the page to continue looking. But on

the next page, he only saw a few more names, followed by the line:

Due to time and resource constraints, rankings only go to one

hundred, and those after will not be listed.

Xue Meng flung the booklet to the ground in a fit of rage. "Am I that

fucking broke?!"

The vendor jumped, startled. Seeing the book Xue Meng had been

reading, he scooped it up and hurried to mollify him, saying, "Don't be

angry, Xianjun, these ranking booklets are just made up by folks willy-nilly,

and on top of that, each region has its own version in circulation. If you buy

one in Linyi, number one on the gentleman ranking is definitely gonna be

Sect Leader Nangong. It's just something people thumb through to pass the

time; don't be mad, don't be mad."

His words seemed reasonable enough. And Xue Meng was curious

about the remainder of the booklet's contents, so he huffed, took it back

from the vendor, and flipped through a few more pages at random.

This time, he saw an even more peculiar ranking:

YOUNG MASTER EGO RANKING