Chapter 50: An Arrow Piercing the Heavens

What had happened in Red Maple Valley was nothing more than a minor episode to Wen Jinge. She had only gone to see Shan Hongxing because Liang Si had once said he couldn’t defeat her; Wen Jinge’s intention was merely to boost his cultivation a little, so that when the Immortal Alliance’s people arrived, she wouldn’t end up striking him down with a single sword before they even got the chance.

But, as always, she ended up saving the day.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You were right.” Wen Jinge looked listless, gazing at the disciples tending affairs on the Resting Peak. “I think I really am a harbinger of disaster—wherever I go, trouble follows.”

“Haven’t you known that all along?”

Wen Jinge: ...

Truly, Qiao Yu was the more lovable one.

The man before her was nothing but a blockhead.

“Let Qiao Yu go practice! Don’t disturb my meditation.”

“So you can have another conversation with that voice in your head?”

Wen Jinge drew a deep breath, slipped off her shoe, and hurled it straight at his face.

Wang Xi was about to step forward to mediate, but was held back by Yang Wennan. “That’s not our junior brother.”

“Oh!” Wang Xi breathed a sigh of relief and retreated a bit, watching Wen Jinge wallop the man while nocking her bow.

But before her arrow was halfway loosed, someone intercepted, “Are you of the Thousand Swallow Clan?”

“Now I am of the Thousand Swallow royal line.”

“Does your clan bear any marking?”

“Vines, vines that grow with the moon, hollow inside for the moon, with fire cradled within.” Though she didn’t know what was happening, judging from the Grand Master’s demeanor, it must have been quite important!

“Do you know the legend of the Moon-Shooter?”

“Moon-Shooter?” Wen Jinge frowned. “Are you sure it’s not the Sun-Shooter?”

“The Moon-Shooter,” Lu Wei emphasized. “They branched off from the White Deer Clan. The White Deer favored the blade, but the Moon-Shooter line disliked such reckless displays, preferring the measured grace of the bow.

The Moon-Shooting Festival used to be a White Deer tradition. The coming-of-age ceremony was always held when the moon was fullest, with children shooting fiery arrows at the moon; the one whose arrow flew farthest would be sent to the military for training.

It was her arrow’s aura that awakened me. My blood should never have deceived me.”

“I’ve never heard of it, but I can write to my father and ask.” Wang Xi looked quite lost. “It was ten thousand years ago. Grand Master, do you have a way to test for bloodlines?”

“I’m just a soul now—how would I test anything?”

Wen Jinge said nothing. Her gaze was fixed on the bow etched with totems. She’d never drawn a bow before; she’d only ever imagined the scenes from dramas, and that was enough for her to try it.

“Mas—Master…” Yang Wennan was left speechless in awe.

Wen Jinge herself was stunned. She watched as her arrow pierced through the ring set up for practice and shot far into the distance.

Bang!

A small hill exploded.

“Heh, hehehe, was that… a bit too much?”

Lu Wei’s eyes were glued to her, never leaving her for a moment.

“Don’t look at me like that. You’ll be able to do the same with practice—here, take your bow, keep practicing. I’ll go fix the mound.” Muttering to herself, she helped the disciples reset their dislocated jaws and fled as if escaping, “I’m not cut out for this. If I keep this up, I’ll run out of spirit stones again.”

“Wait!” Lu Wei called her back and thrust the bow and arrows into her hands. “You didn’t use any spiritual energy just now?”

“No, no—I can’t control it.”

“But you’re still ninth rank.”

“Yes, ninth rank, ninth rank.” Wen Jinge fussed with her hair, then her hands, uneasy. “Anyone can see I’m ninth rank, but I just can’t control it!”

Lu Wei noticed her adding another string of prayer beads to her wrist. He turned her hand over to look. “You can’t control your aura? Wait, take off all your bracelets and let me see.”

“If I do that, you’ll die. Let’s find a quieter place, yes? That way you can die in peace, right?”

“…Fine.” Lu Wei glanced back at the disciples sneaking glances. “What are you looking at? Practice! I won’t be as forgiving as your master—there’ll be an inspection!”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Wang Xi replied, but her eyes still lingered on the bow.

“I’ll return it,” Lu Wei said, a bit more patient with the female disciple. “You two—spar with each other. If I don’t see any injuries, you’d better watch out.”

“Yes, as Grand Master instructs.”

“We’ll follow Grand Master’s words,” Yuan Qingling said, clutching his booklet, seeing them off.

“Hey, when do you think our Second Senior Brother will return?” Yuan Qingling’s face was more wrinkled than ever; he looked every inch the old man now.

In the past, all he’d needed to do was recite the mind techniques from their master and eldest brother. Now that demon, inexplicably, had become the so-called Grand Master, and there was training every day—his bones had been dislocated three times today.

“I don’t know, but I think it’s great.” Yang Wennan weighed his sword, glancing at Yuan Qingling: Fourth Junior Brother was getting older, and not really worth fighting anymore.

“Little Sister.”

“Yes?” Wang Xi, who had been wistfully watching the departing backs of the two masters, snapped out of it. “I’m not sparring with you. Master says this is the age for fun; I’m just to be a cheerful ornament on the peak.”

“That’s not it.” Yang Wennan looked at her, a hint of mischief in his tone. “Do you want to be our mascot?”

“Huh?” Wang Xi was surprised, but quickly caught his meaning, bumping her fist against his shoulder with a delighted grin. “I do!”

“Come on! Let’s go shout at Wind and Thunder Peak!”

“All right! Wait for me, Senior Brother. I’ll send word to Tang Miao-miao and Wang Sichun, have them come support you too!”

“Heavens!” Yuan Qingling felt so wronged—these two little fools! Wind and Thunder Peak—did they want to die?

But the Grand Master had said: you must bear some injuries; if there’s a fight on the mountain, he would certainly be the one beaten...

On second thought, Yuan Qingling found himself moved.

As for the grand schemes the juniors were plotting on the mountain, Wen Jinge neither knew nor cared—even if she had, she would have paid them no mind; she was busy seeking an absolutely quiet place.

“This is your idea of a quiet place?” Lu Wei was truly at a loss to make sense of Wen Jinge’s behavior—there was always an odd logic to her chaos, provoking curiosity and revulsion all at once.

“Of course!” Wen Jinge strolled down a path she knew intimately. The cave was gone, but the “No Entry” sign still stood.

“Remember this place? This is where I knocked you senseless the first time.”

Returning to old haunts was always bittersweet. If Lu Wei hadn’t brought it up, he would have suspected Wen Jinge was just trying to annoy him.

“How did you open the illusion? I didn’t see you use the key.”

“Well, the other day at Burning Heaven Gate, I happened to pick up a coffin. Later, realizing I still needed a mount and who knows when I’d get one, I just asked at the entrance.”

A sense of foreboding crept over him.

“And it opened for me.”

As expected, Wen Jinge was fated to be tormented by the things in her head.

“I said I’d visit again next time, and it obediently closed the door.”

He took a deep breath—he needed to compose himself.

Demons lived long lives; he was determined to outlive Wen Jinge, to sit by her grave and watch her disciples’ descendants crawl all over the place.

“Come! I feel brimming with power.” Wen Jinge pulled off her prayer beads one by one, stuffing them into Lu Wei’s hands as she took the bow and arrows, aiming at the sky. “Set up a barrier first—there’s no moon here, but I’ll show you how to shoot an arrow that pierces the heavens!”