Chapter 25

After leaving Moon Embracing Hall, Jian Chou followed the path she had taken earlier.

When she reached the stone pavilion on the sheer cliff outside, she spotted the figure of Qu Zhengfeng standing inside.

Jian Chou walked over.

“Junior Brother Qu.”

“Senior Sister, congratulations.”

Qu Zhengfeng had clearly already noticed the modest-sized mirror in Jian Chou’s hand and guessed it was likely a gift from the sect leader.

He smiled.

Jian Chou also glanced down at the mirror in her hand, somewhat curious.

“The sect leader said it was a welcoming gift—called the Inner-Outer Mirror. But I don’t know how to use it yet.”

“I assume the sect leader also gave Senior Sister a jade slip. Once you study it later, you’ll be able to master it effortlessly.”

Qu Zhengfeng observed the intricate patterns along the mirror’s edge and suddenly let out a soft, surprised sound.

“Wait, Senior Sister, what did you say this mirror is called again?”

“Inner-Outer Mirror,” Jian Chou repeated, puzzled.

“Is there something wrong with it?”

At this, Qu Zhengfeng shook his head and chuckled.

“I just realized—Senior Sister already said it was the Inner-Outer Mirror earlier, and I didn’t even notice…”

Confusion flickered in Jian Chou’s eyes.

Qu Zhengfeng explained, “The weapons used by cultivators in the cultivation world are collectively called ‘magic tools.’ Generally, they’re divided into three major tiers: Treasure, Spirit Treasure, and Mystic Treasure. Each tier is further split into upper, middle, and lower grades, corresponding to the nine major realms of cultivation. This Inner-Outer Mirror is an upper-grade Treasure. Even when Senior Sister reaches the Golden Core stage, it’ll still be a respectable weapon. It seems the sect leader really splurged this time.”

Of course, Qu Zhengfeng silently added in his heart, he probably only gave it because Master forced him to.

He knew all too well how stingy the sect leader could be.

As for Jian Chou, she had just learned something new about the cultivation world.

Hearing that the Inner-Outer Mirror was something even a Golden Core cultivator could wield, even the faint traces of patina around its edges seemed to glow in her eyes.

Her delight was utterly genuine, without the slightest hint of pretense or bashfulness—completely open and unguarded.

Qu Zhengfeng had seen many newly initiated disciples, most of whom were somewhat shy or reserved.

But someone as composed and natural as Jian Chou? This was his first time.

She really must be something special, he thought.

Otherwise, how could she have caught the eye of our notoriously picky Master?

With a faint smile, Qu Zhengfeng asked, “Does Senior Sister plan to return to her cave abode now?”

“No.”

Jian Chou shook her head, tucking away the Inner-Outer Mirror before looking at Qu Zhengfeng.

“The sect leader mentioned that there were messages for me yesterday—from Wuwang Pavillion and Fengmo Sword Sect. Do you know…?”

As soon as she brought it up, Qu Zhengfeng remembered.

“Ah, that’s right. Please follow me, Senior Sister.”

He summoned his Haiguang Sword once more and invited Jian Chou to step onto it.

Familiar with the routine by now, Jian Chou boarded the sword and followed Qu Zhengfeng.

“The sect leader and the elders are often busy with affairs, so messages exchanged between sects are usually handled by dedicated personnel. Of course, there are also cases where the sender knows the person they’re looking for is in a certain sect but can’t deliver the message directly, so they send it to the sect instead. Senior Sister’s messages are likely the latter.”

In the cultivation world, cultivators often used wind, thunder, rain, snow, or lightning to transmit messages.

By inscribing messages into these natural phenomena using special techniques, they could rely on the mystical laws of heaven and earth to ensure the intended recipient received them.

This time, the messages from Fengmo Sword Sect and Wuwang Pavillion were both addressed explicitly to “Yashan’s Jian Chou.”

Jian Chou understood now.

Zhang Sui and the others must have wanted to contact her but didn’t know how, so they sent the messages to the sect instead.

She had assumed Qu Zhengfeng would take her to some sort of courier station to retrieve the messages.

Instead, he descended like a streak of light, landing steadily beside Returning Crane Well.

By now, the entire Yashan was bathed in sunlight.

Many disciples on Lingzhao Peak were sparring or practicing techniques, creating a lively scene.

When they noticed Qu Zhengfeng and Jian Chou approaching, many greeted them respectfully.

“Greetings, Senior Aunt Jian Chou, Senior Uncle Qu.”

Qu Zhengfeng nodded slightly in acknowledgment.

Jian Chou found it strange—why had Qu Zhengfeng brought her here? But she didn’t voice her question, simply watching him with curiosity.

Qu Zhengfeng smiled.

“Please wait a moment, Senior Sister.”

With a wave of his sleeve, a gentle breeze swept across the surface of Returning Crane Well, stirring faint ripples.

In that instant, a dazzling light erupted!

Above the well’s surface, sparse silver glows appeared.

Each glow resembled a fine, needle-thin strand of light, standing upright on the water’s surface, undulating with the ripples.

As Jian Chou observed the silver lights, a memory flashed through her mind—

Qingfeng temple, atop the cliff, fierce gales howling.

Fudao Shanren reached into the invisible wind, plucked out something resembling a silver needle, and crushed it—revealing the “letter” he had received.

For a moment, an almost wondrous gleam lit up Jian Chou’s eyes.

“The methods of cultivators… truly defy imagination.”

Qu Zhengfeng hadn’t expected Jian Chou to recognize what this was—and to remain so calm about it.

His estimation of her rose yet again.

With a light gesture, two of the needle-like silver strands flew from the water’s surface into his palm.

“The art of transmitting messages via wind, thunder, rain, snow, or lightning… Truthfully, we only know how to use it, not why it works. It’s like teleportation arrays—we can operate them, but their principles remain a mystery. So, it’s not as unfathomable as you might think. If Senior Sister wishes to learn, I doubt it’d take more than a moment.”

Qu Zhengfeng curled his right hand slightly, offering the two silver strands to Jian Chou.

” Returning Crane Well is Yashan’s hub for messages. Any letters not delivered directly to a disciple or elder are automatically gathered here, where they’re later sorted by dedicated personnel. Since these letters were explicitly for Senior Sister, they were left untouched until now.”

The two silver strands rested in Qu Zhengfeng’s palm like a pair of tiny, shimmering fish.

When Jian Chou reached out to take them, they seemed almost sentient—bending slightly before leaping from Qu Zhengfeng’s hand into hers.

For a moment, she froze, then couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Do they… recognize their owner?”

“They probably can tell who’s meant to read them.”

After all, these two messages were explicitly for Jian Chou’s eyes only.

Qu Zhengfeng was long used to such phenomena.

What intrigued him, however, was why Fengmo Sword Sect and Wuwang Pavillion—sects that had virtually no prior interaction with Yashan—would suddenly reach out, and all because of Jian Chou.

What could the letters possibly say?

Unaware of Qu Zhengfeng’s thoughts, Jian Chou gently pinched one of the silver strands between her fingers.

Recalling Fudao Shanren’s method, she gave it a firm squeeze.

The silver light remained unchanged, not transforming into a screen of text.

Jian Chou paused, then reconsidered.

This time, she channeled a sliver of her meager spiritual energy into her fingertips before lightly rubbing the strand.

Whoosh—

The silver light in her fingers seemed to shift from solid metal into fine, powdery sand, scattering into the air before rearranging itself into lines of simple text.

The first letter she had opened was from Wuwang Zhai—though its tone didn’t sound like Nie Xiaowan’s.

“To Yashan’s young friend Jian Chou, from Feng Nu Youran of Wuwang Pavillion. Xiaowan is my beloved disciple, dear to me as my own child. During the Secret Realm expedition at Qing Feng temple, she fell victim to a villain’s schemes. Thanks to your timely intervention, she was spared a worse fate. The details have been relayed to our sect by a young friend from Fengmo Sword Sect. For this, all of Wuwang Pavillion is eternally grateful. Xiaowan is now in seclusion, recovering from her injuries in hopes of preserving her cultivation. Yashan’s kindness will never be forgotten. Should the opportunity arise, we shall repay it in full. —Wuwang Pavillion, Yu Xin.”

This was likely a message from Nie Xiaowan’s master at Wuwang Pavillion.

Reading between the lines, Jian Chou sensed something amiss.

It seemed Zhang Sui and Zhou Kuang had indeed found Wuwang Pavillion’s people and safely returned Nie Xiaowan to them.

Now, the sect was treating her injuries—but the phrase “in hopes of preserving her cultivation” cast a shadow over the good news.

A little thought made it clear: if Wuwang Pavillion phrased it this way, the chances of Nie Xiaowan’s cultivation remaining intact were slim.

After a while, the silver text in the air began to fade.

Qu Zhengfeng noticed Jian Chou standing motionless, seemingly lost in thought, and gently prompted, “Senior Sister Jian Chou?”

Jian Chou snapped out of her reverie, offering a faint, somewhat subdued smile.

“It’s fine. All things considered, it’s still good news.”

Barely.

She lifted her gaze to the remaining silver strand in her palm.

Pinching it between her fingers, she gave it a light rub.

The silver light dispersed once more, rearranging itself into the second letter.

This one was from Fengmo Sword Sect.

“To Senior Sister Jian Chou: After parting at Ascension Island, we escorted Junior Sister Nie Xiaowan back to Wuwang Pavillion as promised. Master Yu Xin has taken charge of her treatment. Please rest assured. Additionally, we’ve learned that Xu Lan’er has returned unscathed to Jianzhu Sect, where she enjoys their full protection. Zhang Sui and Junior Brother Zhou are indignant, but as mere disciples, we lack the influence to challenge her. We can only hope that at the Left Three Thousand Assembly three years hence, we may wash away this humiliation and repay today’s grievances.”

By the time she finished reading, Jian Chou’s expression had darkened further.

Staring at the lines of text, she felt an absurd sense of injustice.

Xu Lan’er had first taken advantage of others’ misfortunes, provoking Tao Zhang’s wrath, then tried to drag Nie Xiaowan, Zhang Sui, and the others into danger as a diversion.

To escape, she had even ambushed Nie Xiaowan—had it not been for the Nine-Jointed Bamboo in Jian Chou’s hands, Nie Xiaowan might not have survived.

Later, Xu Lan’er had seemingly fallen injured into the sea, and Tao Zhang had failed to find her.

Yet now, she had returned to Jianzhu Sect completely unharmed?

Jian Chou couldn’t suppress a cold laugh.

She clapped her hands together, as if brushing off something filthy.

“The Nineteen Continents are a strange place indeed…”

“Senior Sister Jian Chou, is something troubling you?”

Though he hadn’t known Jian Chou long, Qu Zhengfeng could tell she wasn’t one for scornful laughter.

Yet the smile on her lips just now had been laced with unmistakable, biting irony.

What exactly did those letters say?

To provoke such a reaction…

Jian Chou shook her head.

“On my way to the Nineteen Continents, I met a few friends. Unexpectedly, they were ambushed. Now, they’ve sent word updating me—the friend who was gravely injured may survive, but her cultivation might not recover. Meanwhile, the one responsible escaped unscathed and returned to her sect. Junior Brother Qu, does the Nineteen Continents not believe in vengeance?”

Qu Zhengfeng was taken aback.

He hadn’t expected Jian Chou to lay everything out so plainly.

Connecting the dots with recent movements from Fengmo Sword Sect and Wuwang Pavillion, he quickly surmised this was related to the Qingfeng temple Secret Realm incident.

After a moment’s consideration, he replied, “Ironically, it’s the opposite of what Senior Sister thinks. Vengeance is commonplace in the Nineteen Continents. But between sects, there’s always face to consider—most avoid outright confrontations unless absolutely necessary.”

Ah.

She’d been overthinking it.

Taking a deep breath of the crisp morning air atop Lingzhao Peak, Jian Chou let out a soft laugh.

“I see now.”

Zhang Sui’s mention of “as mere disciples, we lack the influence” likely referred to the conflict between an individual’s grievances and a sect’s interests.

His entire letter had been eerily calm, focusing only on seeking redemption at the Left Three Thousand Assembly in three years.

It seemed Fengmo Sword Sect wouldn’t be getting involved.

Combined with Qu Zhengfeng’s words, Jian Chou could piece together the full picture.

On a grand scale, it was a matter of sect reputation.

But on a personal level, it was simply a grudge to be settled privately.

Wuwang Pavillion’s letter hadn’t mentioned seeking justice for Nie Xiaowan either.

I wonder… how does Nie Xiaowan feel about all this?

Or perhaps Master Yu Xin couldn’t let personal feelings affect the entire sect.

“If you have the skill, you could slaughter the entire Nineteen Continents, and no one could stop you.”

Fudao Shanren’s words echoed in her mind once more.

Jian Chou shook her head with a quiet laugh.

She said nothing more, only turning to Qu Zhengfeng.

“I’m new to the Nineteen Continents and know little of its ways. Does Yashan have any texts I could study?”

“We do.”

Qu Zhengfeng nodded.

“Not just on local customs, but also foundational cultivation techniques. Though… given how casually Master teaches his disciples…”

Casually?

Jian Chou blinked.

“Master hasn’t returned to Yashan in three hundred years. How did you all…?”

A vein twitched at Qu Zhengfeng’s temple.

“Mostly self-taught.”

“…”

Now she understood.

No wonder Qu Zhengfeng had brought up foundational techniques when discussing study materials—and why he’d mentioned their master’s “casual” teaching style.

Even after becoming his disciples, they’d largely fended for themselves.

As they walked, Qu Zhengfeng sighed.

“Master’s unreliability is legendary. Though my own cultivation isn’t particularly high, I’m at the peak of the Nascent Soul stage, nearing the Soul Separation realm. If Senior Sister has any questions about cultivation, asking me might be more productive than asking Master.”

For a disciple to say such a thing…

Jian Chou couldn’t bear to imagine just how negligent Fudao Shanren had been.

She looked at Qu Zhengfeng.

“Then I’ll trouble you often from now on, Junior Brother Qu. Though it feels odd saying that…”

As a measly Qi Refining-stage “senior sister,” Jian Chou didn’t have much authority to begin with.

Qu Zhengfeng knew exactly why.

With a spring-breeze smile, he said, “Before Master took you in, I was Yashan’s head disciple.”

“Ah…”

Jian Chou couldn’t help but laugh, though inwardly, she wondered—Does Qu Zhengfeng secretly resent this?

Come to think of it, she still didn’t know much about the other disciples their master had taken.

“By the way, Junior Brother Qu, I recall Master has eight disciples in total.”

“Indeed. But including you, only six are currently at Yashan. I’m now second. The fourth, as you’ve seen, is the least reliable of us all.”

Qu Zhengfeng had accompanied Jian Chou to the mountain path.

With a light tap of his foot, clouds gathered beneath them, forming a staircase that led straight to her cliffside dwelling.

Having witnessed this spectacle yesterday, Jian Chou was no longer as awed—though admiration still flickered in her eyes.

She followed him up.

“So three others are here at Yashan?”

“Correct. The third is a sword fanatic, perpetually in seclusion. The remaining two? One’s a fool, the other’s a glutton.”

Qu Zhengfeng chuckled.

“They’ve been at the Duty Hall these past few days. Though they’re dying to meet you, they haven’t had the chance. I suspect they’ll be free soon enough. Enjoy your peace while it lasts, Senior Sister.”

The fourth disciple, Shen Jiu, whom she’d met yesterday, had given off strong “prodigal son” vibes—yet when serious, he was unrestrained and oddly likable.

Qu Zhengfeng himself was the picture of a refined gentleman—like the moon amid clear winds.

But…

Jian Chou mused silently.

Given how even the brash Shen Jiu didn’t dare provoke him, Qu Zhengfeng’s probably not as pure as he seems.

Better stay cautious.

As for the other three, she hadn’t met them yet.

But “sword fanatic,” “fool,” and “glutton” didn’t sound particularly threatening.

Still…

Has Master ever taken in a normal disciple?

Jian Chou suddenly recalled Sect Leader Zheng Yao’s bewilderment in Moon Embracing Hall: How did someone as eccentric as Fudao Shanren end up with a disciple like her?

Honestly, that wasn’t just Zheng Yao’s question—it was probably on all of Yashan’s minds.

On the surface, she don’t fit in here at all.

Each lost in their thoughts, they soon reached the top of the cloud staircase.

Shen Jiu was still standing where they’d left him, plucking petals off a pitiful flower.

“Go ask… don’t ask… go ask… don’t ask…”

“Junior Brother Shen.”

Jian Chou stepped onto the flat ground carved into the cliff—her “doorstep.”

“Senior Sister! You’re back!”

Shen Jiu jolted at her voice, immediately straightening.

If he’d been a lifeless puppet earlier, he now seemed infused with energy.

Jian Chou found it odd.

What could he possibly want from me?

“I’ve just returned from meeting the sect leader with Junior Brother Qu. You mentioned earlier you had something to discuss?”

Shen Jiu opened his mouth to speak—

Then his gaze flicked to Qu Zhengfeng, who stood to the side with folded arms, watching him with an amused smirk.

The words died in his throat, suddenly sharp as daggers.

His lips moved soundlessly.

Jian Chou grew even more puzzled, glancing at Qu Zhengfeng.

“Were you looking for Junior Brother Qu, Junior Brother Shen?”

“No!”

Shen Jiu’s refusal was instant, his expression crumbling.

He looked between Qu Zhengfeng and the oblivious Jian Chou.

The rift in his heart—torn open last night—widened further.

It wasn’t just bleeding now; it was a floodgate bursting open!

“Uh… Second Brother, I need to speak with Senior Sister alone. Mind giving us some space?”

Qu Zhengfeng took two leisurely steps forward, eyeing Shen Jiu with exaggerated suspicion.

“Oh? What could be so private that I can’t hear it? Since when are you and Senior Sister so close?”

The teasing and sarcasm in his voice were unmistakable.

Crunch—

That was the sound of Shen Jiu grinding his teeth.

He glared at Qu Zhengfeng, fury blazing in his eyes.

Finally, he snapped.

With a hand on his sword hilt, he hissed, “Draw. Your. Sword.”

Qu Zhengfeng’s smirk froze.

He narrowed his eyes at Shen Jiu’s poised hand.

“…Seriously?”

Shen Jiu looked up, flashing a brilliant smile.

“Deadly serious.”

Boom—

A torrent of silver light erupted!

A 6 feet-wide battle disk materialized midair, its raging spiritual energy surging skyward like a storm.

At that moment, the entire mountain seemed to echo with the piercing cry of a sword!

Qu Zhengfeng had already dodged with a swift blue streak underfoot, laughing.

“All this over a measly Skyfire Lamp? How heartless, Junior Brother!”

“Bullshit!”

Right now, Shen Jiu wanted to chop Qu Zhengfeng into eight pieces and feed him to the dogs.

How could a man possibly swallow his pride and ask Senior Sister Jian Chou for the Skyfire Lamp back in front of everyone?

And this bastard had the nerve to stand there, mocking him?

This is war!

Shen Jiu’s blood boiled.

Screw it.

Draw swords first, talk later!