Translator: Larbre Studio Editor: Larbre Studio
Because of the Rite to Light, all powerful figures like the Golden Tribe’s Master of the Nation and Qi Nian from the Hanging Temple had gathered at the West-Hill Divine Palace. Ning Que did not have the slightest chance of winning against a single one of them. He had thus been very quiet these days, spending most of his time in Revelation Institute without taking even one step closer to the cliff.
Normally, he would never have placed himself in such a dangerous situation. In fact, his original plan was to sneak into the West-Hill Divine Palace, stay for no longer than a month, and get things done even before the Rite to Light officially began. However, due to the sudden changes, with Chen Pipi being imprisoned in the Secluded Pavilion, he could only continue biding his time.
Before leaving Qinghe Prefecture, he had told Wang Jinglue that he would return in a month at the most. Now, fall had arrived, but he was still stuck here. He had to send another message to Qinghe Prefecture asking Wang Jinglue to wait for a while longer. As for the troubles to Wang Jinglue’s arrangements over there, he had to leave them aside for the time being.
The sky had turned dark. He went back to Revelation Institute to grab his arrow case and iron sword and took the path from the backyard to the front yard of the Peach Mountain. The front yard of Peach Mountain and Halls on the summit formed a straight line. The front yard was extremely wide and it could accommodate tens of thousands of followers at the same time. At the venue where the Rite to Light would be held, deacons of the Halls were finishing the set-up. Not far from here, several high-ranking array masters were reinforcing the perimeter of the front yard. There was no doubt that at the opening of the Rite to Light, some dazzling divine skills were going to be exhibited.
Ning Que was wearing the clothes of a servant in the Revelation Institute, looking no different from other footboys and being very inconspicuous. Although the front yard of Peach Mountain was heavily guarded, his speed and reaction had far exceeded that of ordinary human beings. Diving into the woods to the left, he secretly buried the arrow case and the iron sword in the side of the yard.
Brushing off some mud, he looked at the numerous torches in the night and the nervous-looking deacons of the Halls. He pictured the grand ceremony of the Rite to Light that was to be held in a few days and even he began to feel nervous. Then he looked towards the four Halls on the summit with a frown.
Tonight, instead of the Divine Hall of Light, he stared at the black-colored Divine Hall of Judgement located on the edge of the cliff. The Divine Hall of Judgement was situated somewhat apart from the other three, chilling and lonely.
His last resort was to strike at the Seat of Heavenly Black Jade in the Divine Hall of Judgement. Although he feared the woman on that throne and had previously judged that it was too risky, Chen Pipi was about to be burnt alive soon. He had no choice but to give it a try.
It was said that Ye Hongyu had been staying in the temple meditating ever since she came back to the Peach Mountain from Chang’an. He had not seen her ever since he came to the West-Hill Divine Palace. Since it was impossible to run into her, he could only go to pay a visit.
…
Fall had arrived in Qinghe Prefecture as well.
Wang Jinglue received a secret message from the City of Chang’an. After a long silence, he put on that bamboo hat again and left in a carriage, arriving at an ordinary residence in the City of Yangzhou.
Inside, someone was coughing non-stop. He stood outside for a moment to make sure there was no ambush. Then, he entered and placed the medicines he bought on the table. He asked, “What’s your decision?”
A young man was lying in bed. He was pale and withered. Even the strong scent of medicine in the room could not mask the bloody smell that came from behind the bed.
Behind the bed were some crumpled gauze stained with blood.
This man was Cui Huasheng, a descendent of the Cui clan. His wife was the youngest daughter of Qiu Fangwu, former governor of the Ruyang County of Great Tang. She died on the day her whole family was slain by the rebel army formed by the clans during the rebellion.
Out of deep sorrow and anger, Cui Huasheng kicked up a fuss throughout the City of Yangzhou. This eventually caused him to be punished in the ancestral hall of the Cui clan. He was further hanged on a pillar for three days before he was released.
The clans in Qinghe Prefecture were known to be ruthless at discipline. If Cui Huasheng was not a very close nephew of the clan leader Cui Shi, he would have been beaten to death. Even so, he was so seriously injured that although he survived, he had been bedridden and suffering from those festering wounds.
Cui Huasheng looked at the man wearing the bamboo hat and said in a faint and hoarse voice, “It won’t be difficult for me to go to Fuchun River and enter Cui Garden. But it will take some time.”
Wang Jinglue took off his bamboo hat and asked, “Why will it take time?”
Seeing that he took off his hat and revealed his face, Cui Huasheng showed more trust and replied, “It takes some time to play being regretful. Otherwise no one would believe me.”
Wang Jinglue nodded, “That makes sense. I did worry about seeming too hypocritical. It’s good to have more time.”
“Cui Shi just celebrated his birthday. It will be a while before they throw another party.” Cui Huasheng replied.
Wang Jinglue counted the dates and found it to be overlapping with the Rite to Light. “That’s perfect.” He agreed.
Cui Huasheng seemed to be thinking of something, only to start coughing again. When he was finally able to regain his breath, he asked seriously, “Don’t you worry that killing too many people would force the Divine Halls to take action?”
Wang Jinglue reasoned that as long as Ning Que struck at the Rite to Light, the war that had ceased for barely half a year would be started again. What else would he worry about?
…
Great Tang had just recovered from the war and was far from ready to confront the whole world again. Psychologically or resource wise, it would take a while for them to get prepared.
However, the Academy was ready. They firmly believed that as long as Ning Que could implement their plan perfectly, the West-Hill Divine Palace would not dare to provoke another war. What really bothered the Academy was that the Drunkard and the Butcher were still out there, like two giant swords hanging above of the City of Chang’an. Yet, precisely because of that, the Academy had no choice but to carry out the plan. Only thus could they prevent those two people from doing any harm, even if it was temporary.
Eldest Brother was not in the Academy. He should still be in the palace directing the repair of the God-Stunning Array. Fourth Brother and Sixth Brother were also assisting there. Senior Sister Yu Lian had left after the war. The rest were undergoing a long healing process. That left Second Brother in charge at the Academy.
Jun Mo was a swordsman. In order to protect the Academy, he had to sharpen his sword. Therefore, in the past few days, he had been sharpening it by the waterfall behind the small backyard.
For days and nights, he kept sharpening his sword. He had worn down dozens of firm rocks but it still failed to ease his disturbed heart, which was as restless as his sleeve swinging in the wind.
Mu You walked to the lakeside with a lunchbox. Looking at his empty sleeve and neatly combed gray hair, she felt slightly dejected. She said with a tender voice, “Our Headmaster once said that Pipi was always optimistic and knew his destiny. He is bound to be profoundly blessed. Youngest Brother is in the Peach Mountain now. He would definitely save him.”
Jun Mo was restless not because of his own broken arm or grey hair, or his hopelessness to reach Headmaster or Youngest Uncle’ state with this sword. Rather, it was because Chen Pipi was close to dying.
Throughout the years at the Academy, he had scolded Chen Pipi most frequently, punished him the most, talked to him most frequently, and thus was the closest to him.
The Rite to Light would be held soon, and Chen Pipi was to be burnt alive. Yet he could only sit by the lake helplessly, sharpening his never-to-be-broken sword. How could he regain his calm?
“Many powerful figures have gathered at the West-Hill Divine Palace by now. I heard the Hierarch has fully restored his power, and those frauds from the Golden Tribe and monks from the Hanging Temple are also there. Although Eldest Brother’s plan seems flawless, and Youngest Brother is the best person to execute it, we were not aware that Pipi is in Peach Mountain. I’m indeed worried.”
Mu You realized that whatever she could say would not give him any comfort. She placed the lunchbox on a rock by the lake and urged, “Have your dinner first. Remember to come home tonight. It will be cold outside.”
Speaking of going home, Jun Mo felt a bit awkward. However, he knew what he had to do. He got up and replied, “Thanks for taking care of everything these days. I … will go home tonight.”
…
Having finished his dinner, Jun Mo continued to sharpen his sword. The surface of the hard, blue rock was grounded into very fine powder by the iron sword and drifted away with the water. This was probably a bubble of toughness.
Two lads came to the lake, brought him some water and took the lunchbox back.
Looking at the lonely figure of Jun Mo, they hesitated. Finally, Li Guangdi gathered his courage to speak. “Master, Eldest Uncle mentioned the other day perhaps you could read more Buddhist scriptures…”
Since Ning Que sent them to the Academy till now, Li Guangdi and Zhang Nianzu had yet to officially start their cultivation, not even to the Initial Awareness State. They were still commoners. However, while they made their acquaintance with the Uncles, they began to vaguely understand some principles of cultivation, or maybe some words. Seeing their master being worried and constantly sharpening the sword by the lake, they also felt anxious and wanted to share some advices no matter what.
Li Guangdi found his own voice diminishing as he knew it was just nonsense. They had heard from Fifth Uncle that their master could not bear with Buddhism and monks. It was he who cut down the stone statue of the Washan Buddha with his sword, and he who smashed the Lanke Temple. How could he dare to advice his master to consult with Buddhism?
Without turning back or getting angry, Jun Mo said, “When you go to town, listen to Chao Xiaoshu’s orders. Although you have not begun your cultivation, you are already disciples of the Academy. You should not dishonor the Academy.”
When Ning Que led a group of disciples to the Wilderness for practice years ago, he told him the same thing. His requirement seemed very simple but was actually quite stressful.
The two lads felt a bit uncertain about their future journey and things to be accomplished, and they were also unwilling to leave their master.
Zhang Nianzu hesitated and said, “Master, we are afraid that we would not be able to come back. But you have our words. We won’t be scared, nor dishonor the Academy. However, …”
Jun Mo interrupted him, turned back and said, “You will survive as long as you wish to. Even if Haotian came here and questioned me, I would provide him with the same answer.”
That night, Jun Mo stopped sharpening his sword and went home.
Mu You cooked him some late-night snacks, and prepared breakfast the following morning. She showed Zhang Nianzu and Li Guangdi their way to exit the Cloud Array, accompanied them to the front yard of the Academy, and could not stop nagging.
They kneeled in front of her.
Li Guangdi said, “Madam, please go back. We are still worried about our master.”
Mu You smiled and patted him on the head. But she did not turn to leave until the carriage drove down the meadow. She had to maintain her appearance as the master’s wife.
When she returned home, however, she realized she should have come back earlier as Li Guangdi said.
She was shocked to see grey hair all over the ground. When Jun Mo raised his head from beside the well, she almost fainted.
Jun Mo was always particular about his appearance. His hair was always neatly combed, black or grey. The ancient crown was always pointing upright.
Yet he could never comb his hair or wear that symbolic crown ever again. He had shaved his head.
