Chapter 7: Enlightenment

Beasts possess an innate sense for danger, a skill honed through generations of relentless struggle and etched into their very bones and blood. They are born into a world of cruelty, forced to learn to seize what they need from the moment they draw breath—only thus can they survive.

Although this man showed not the slightest trace of a Mystic Master, the beast found him strangely familiar, sensed his peril. Instinctively, it yielded, its pride as a sixth-rank beast making it bellow, "Human! Hand over your most precious possession!"

Such words it would usually reserve for children or women, the weak; yet facing this imposing man, it needed the threat to salvage its dignity.

The man gave a low scoff, gesturing to where Qiao Yu still lay on the ground. "If I said it was him, would you believe me?"

The Sand Beast's mind stumbled, utterly unable to fathom the man's thoughts. Its abilities were useless here, which proved that the man before it could conceal his aura at will, his cultivation leagues above its own.

"You’re able to wander inside the Celestial Cloud Sect, yet not a single disciple has reported you. Clearly, this unfortunate soul is the first. Surrender the item, and I’ll spare your life."

"What a joke! I never return what I've swallowed!"

"Oh." Wen Jinge realized her own powers were unstable; though the Sand Beast was of the sixth rank, it could still wear her down. Without hesitation, she used the ring Ai Fengling had given her. With a sweep of her broad hand, a violent gale arose, swirling sand blinding Qiao Yu and hurling him aside.

A streak of orange light exploded into the sky, a pungent scent of niter—like burning firecrackers—filling the air. When Qiao Yu opened his eyes again, the Sand Beast’s left arm was reduced to dust. As the powder settled, the man's silhouette seemed even lonelier, and the beast was left kneeling, vomiting gouts of green liquid, begging for mercy.

"Which immortal master might you be?" Within the Celestial Cloud Sect, only the seven peak lords could defeat it so effortlessly, yet this man before it was clearly a mere disciple named Wen.

The beast’s amber eyes darted nervously, and then, with a shriek of pain, it found a dagger plunged into its eye—while it had been distracted, the man had struck.

"I have but one weakness!"

A sizzling sound rang out as the beast rolled frantically on the ground. The dagger was melting—it had been forged from mystical energy. The forest quaked, birds and beasts scattering in terror.

"I enjoy listening to others wail," the man declared, "especially beasts. Come, let’s hear you cry for me!"

"Here, I’ll give it to you!" the beast whimpered, tossing out an envelope and a jade pendant. Terrified that Wen Jinge might change his mind, it darted into a cave, making a racket within, so that falling rocks soon sealed the entrance.

Wen Jinge could not help but click his tongue in amazement.

"Senior..." Qiao Yu could hardly endure the pain; it was as if a fire churned within his meridians, making his already battered body even more wretched. His bones creaked and snapped, like a pot of delicacies bubbling and ready to burst into an irresistible aroma. But Qiao Yu was alive—the blood and energy being cooked were his own, and he feared he would wither before the fragrance could even arise.

"Tsk, tsk." Wen Jinge was speechless. This boy had studied no techniques, learned no skills, and yet was about to reach the ninth rank of Mystic Master. Three ranks skipped in a single leap! Was he truly a natural sword prodigy, with such an extraordinary constitution? An audacious idea flickered in her mind.

"Surviving catastrophe brings fortune, but yours comes swiftly, boy!"

Qiao Yu’s eyes were dull; he could only look in the direction his memory recalled. "The letter, and the jade."

"Well then, you tell me," Wen Jinge said without a hint of sympathy, kicking Qiao Yu over and rolling him again and again until he reached the jade. "Which of these is more precious to you? If you give me what matters least, what do you say? I came out hunting, but you frightened off my prey. I should be compensated, shouldn’t I?"

Qiao Yu looked at her, then answered, "The jade."

Wen Jinge took the letter, opened it, and glanced inside. "What’s this? Just a lousy blueprint. Fine, I’ll reluctantly accept it."

"No!" he protested, shaking his head desperately. He thought his resolve was clear, but Wen Jinge saw only his vacant eyes drifting about. "The jade, for you, Senior. Thank you, thank you..."

"I’m not named Xie, I’m Song. Song—" Wen Jinge stooped to retrieve the dagger he’d dropped, and thrust it into Qiao Yu’s hand. "Song Blade. When you can’t go on anymore, use this on yourself."

"Thank you." He barely registered Song Blade’s contempt. The pain of his wounds had faded into a dull ache, and with a cough, he still managed to express his gratitude. "Senior Song, save me. I think I’ve been poisoned..."

"You’re not poisoned—just run a few laps and you’ll be fine. Once the heat dissipates, you’ll recover." Wen Jinge hoisted him upright. "Where are you going?"

"To the outer mountains. I have no strength left, I fear I won’t make it." He silently reproached himself. No wonder his master looked down on him—he couldn’t even handle such a trivial task.

"When I tell you to run, you run." Wen Jinge gave him a kick.

Qiao Yu was bewildered by this eccentric elder’s outburst, but soon realized that with that kick, his body felt lighter, his legs itched with energy. His voice trembled with confusion. "S-senior..."

"Run—back to Ten-Thousand-Fathom Peak!"

"Senior, may I trade the jade for that letter?" To his surprise, Qiao Yu found himself speaking more fluently. He didn’t know what had happened, but he was sure it was because of this senior.

"I’ll ask you again—which is more important, the jade or the letter?"

"The letter."

"Good. Now I want your most important possession."

Qiao Yu was not skilled at lying. After hesitating a long while, ears reddening, he confessed, "It’s... it’s the jade."

"Truly the jade?"

He faltered. "Today, the letter is most important. In the future, it’s the jade."

"Let’s go!" Wen Jinge drew in a deep breath and summoned his sword. "Why are you standing there? Get on!"

"Senior, I... I’m heading to the outer mountains!"

"I know!"

Seated at the sword’s tail, Qiao Yu saw Wen Jinge still watching him. Embarrassed, he forced a smile. "I’m afraid... but I’m filthy. I don’t want to dirty your robe."

Wen Jinge glanced at her black robe. Even if it got dirty, it would only be blacker.

"Close your eyes, steady your mind. All methods spring from the heart; let your heart embrace stillness and motion alike. If you don’t understand, ask me."

Qiao Yu listened, half comprehending, half confused. He sat cross-legged on the sword, deciding to simply do as told, and quietly closed his eyes.

Wen Jinge’s sword flew at a moderate pace, steady enough that Qiao Yu wouldn’t be swept off. The mountain night was cool, and the cold wind soothed the restlessness within him, making his whole body feel warmed instead.

It was a strange sensation, like walking among clouds, mind and spirit adrift, as if he had become one with nature itself.

"Senior, why did you teach me to lie?"

"Do you really fret so much about trivial matters?"

"Ah?" Qiao Yu blurted out, realizing too late that he’d spoken his thoughts aloud. "N-no..."

"Think carefully—after I appeared, was there a single moment that moved you? You’ve found insight, your sword intent is awakening. When you return, have your master teach you swordplay."

"Senior..."

"Ascending directly to the ninth rank, you mustn’t make a mistake!"