Chapter 14: The Flame Of The Lamp Is Very Hot
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Towards the south lies Han Shan, stretching for thousands of miles.
The night sky resembles ink splashed across a canvas, devoid of stars and moon. Surrounded by towering mountains, the vast lake resembles a bottomless abyss, its depths shrouded in darkness.
This lake is called ‘Mingyue Lake’, though the local climate, often cloudy and misty, obscures the moon’s reflection on the lake’s surface for half of the year.
The name ‘Mingyue’ merely belongs to a sword.
With the sword drawn, the night becomes as bright as day, casting awe in all directions.
And the master of the sword, Yun Xuzi, the Sect Leader of Mingyue Lake, sits in the tea pavilion at the heart of the lake.
Before the fire heats up and the water boils, a figure walks along the bamboo path on the lake.
A handsome young man stood outside the pavilion, bowing respectfully. “Disciple congratulates Master on emerging from seclusion,” he said.
Yun Xuzi nodded slightly. “Come in.”
The young man entered the pavilion, revealing himself to be Jing Di, the eldest disciple of Mingyue Lake. At this moment, he exuded a restrained aura, displaying a demeanor of composure that contrasted sharply with the fierce-looking mountain cultivators seen in the eatery.
Yun Xuzi, no longer the stern master but a compassionate mentor, asked, “What insights have you gained from your travels?”
Jing Di answered one by one, concluding, “Disciple encountered a young man, who possesses the innate spirit of the sword spirit, but unfortunately, his heart is set on Han Shan. On my way back, I heard that his reputation has already spread.”
The water in the kettle gradually boiled, emitting faint cracking sounds as tiny bubbles burst. Yun Xuzi poured tea leaves into the water, seeming somewhat interested. “Oh, tell me more.”
“They call him the successor to Ji Xiao Zhenren in Han Shan.”
Yun Xuzi’s smile faded. “Do such trivial matters warrant your concern?” he asked.
Jing Di bowed his head in silence, and a moment of silence fell over the pavilion.
As the tea boiled for the second time, Yun Xuzi spoke again. “As your master, I know you have a free spirit, and I rarely constrain you. I prefer not to meddle in the foolishness you engage in outside. But at this critical juncture, the upcoming battle in the Hanhai Secret Realm, do you have any confidence in seizing the initiative?”
Jing Di arrogantly declared, “Eighty percent.”
“Not enough!” Yun Xuzi’s tone suddenly turned stern. “Before the secret realm opens, do not leave the mountain again!”
Jing Di hurriedly bowed, “Disciple will do his utmost to win the Endless Sky and offer it to Master.”
Yun Xuzi continued to brew tea. “Go.”
The young man exited the pavilion and walked towards the winding bamboo path on the lake, gradually disappearing into the night mist.
As the fire extinguished, Yun Xuzi poured two bowls of tea, the color of the brew just right.
Someone said, “The water is too old.”
At some point, across from Yun Xuzi’s seat, there appeared a person drinking tea. He may have been there all along, or perhaps he had just arrived, but with Jing Di’s level of cultivation, he couldn’t sense this person’s presence at all.
Yun Xuzi asked, “What do you think of this disciple?”
The person sat in a place where the candlelight couldn’t reach, setting down his teacup. “He can serve as a pawn, but it’s difficult to entrust him with great responsibilities. As for the Hanhai Secret Realm, I have other arrangements.”
Yun Xuzi said, “I will follow your instructions, Master Uncle. I only have one question: shortly after Ji Xiao’s death, Han Shan obtained a new innate sword spirit. Is it really just a coincidence?”
The person chuckled, “Does it matter whether it’s a innate sword spirit or artificially cultivated?“
Yun Xuzi, feeling inexplicably relieved, said, “It seems that Ji Xiao has truly passed away. Only then would Han Shan come up with such a plan.”
If Ji Xiao had escaped with severe injuries, he would have surely concealed his whereabouts and secretly restored his cultivation. When he was still weak, he wouldn’t dare to reveal himself in front of others.
If Han Shan had received news of Ji Xiao, he would have activated the mountain protection formation, closing off the mountain and hiding from the world. He would have withdrawn his forces and prepared in silence for a long time.
And now, only Han Shan needed the lingering influence of Ji Xiao.
All great figures will eventually be forgotten, and new stars will rise. Of course, for the Han Shan Sword Sect, the slower this process, the better.
They selected a young man to build momentum for him, creating the gimmick of being Ji Xiao’s successor, so that the world would not lose faith in the future of Han Shan.
This wasn’t a brilliant method, but it wasn’t bad either.
“Of course, he’s dead. It’s been 120 years. If he’s still alive, it wouldn’t make sense.”
How to kill the invincible Sword Sovereign?
It required enough time and patience, meticulous planning, and careful calculation. Only by appearing to act unintentionally while having a hidden agenda could the seemingly impossible task be accomplished.
Several prominent figures at the pinnacle of the cultivation world had been waiting for this assassination plot to unfold for 120 years.
Fortunately, cultivators had long lifespans. The longer they lived, the more thorough and complex their thinking became.
The man finished his tea and gazed at the vast night sky, reminiscing about past years, feeling many emotions:
“If Ji Xiao hadn’t died, some would find it hard to attain enlightenment, and some would lose sleep.”
…
As night fell, the lights in the Han Shan Library were bright.
Whenever it approached the hour of the Pig (around 9-11 PM), if Elder Meng hadn’t returned to Changchun Peak, a young disciple would come to the library to find him and carry his books for him.
The first time, Meng Xueli said, “I remember the way. You don’t have to come to pick me up at night.”
Liu Xiaohuai responded respectfully and then, after a long pause, asked in a low voice, “Elder Meng, are you going to choose another disciple?”
As someone responsible for menial tasks like delivering messages and cleaning within the peak, he was called a “Sasao Disciple.” Another type of disciple could accompany the elder outside and was called a “Baojian Disciple.” Although they were both disciples, the latter was evidently more prestigious.
Meng Xueli didn’t know the reason behind this distinction, but seeing the child looking a bit dejected, he tacitly agreed to let him come. Thus, while other elders’ disciples carried swords, his disciple carried books, becoming a unique sight in Han Shan.
The library not only housed Daoist scriptures and sword techniques but also miscellaneous books such as essays, travelogues, and autobiographies written by past Han Shan seniors, for disciples to reference and comprehend.
The first time Meng Xueli visited, he wanted to see if Ji Xiao had left anything behind, but he was regretfully informed by the attendant of the library, “Zhenren never wrote anything.”
The building was divided into nine levels, each with a similar layout. Rows of tall bookshelves were spaced six zhang apart, allowing several people to pass through without obstruction. On the other side, beneath the windows, were many tables where diligent disciples sat for late-night reading sessions.
Meng Xueli enjoyed coming at night when the entire building was illuminated by candlelight, with flames flickering. The ornate candlesticks extended from the outer sides of the bookshelves, hanging above like the stars in the night sky over snowy mountains—bright and numerous.
As the night grew deeper, fewer disciples remained in the building. Meng Xueli closed his book and walked from the table near the window toward the bookshelves, intending to pick up the next volume to read.
Suddenly, he heard low voices coming from beyond two bookshelves, faintly mentioning “Junior Brother Xiao.” However, this time, Meng Xueli didn’t catch the words “Ji Xiao Zhenren.” He stopped in his tracks.
As a cultivator, his senses were sharp, and he faintly sensed that the group consisted of six or seven young individuals with low cultivation levels, likely outer disciples.
“Speaking of which, does anyone know where Junior Brother Xiao is from?” someone asked.
“He’s from the south, beyond the Yunzhong Mountains, further south.”
“If he’s from the south, why didn’t he end up at Mingyue Lake?”
“Senior Brother Zhang and the others were just lucky. They found him before reaching Mingyue Lake. It’s also because that village is remote. Ordinary people wouldn’t be able to find it. It’s all a matter of fortunate coincidence.”
“A village? Based on Junior Brother Xiao’s demeanor, I thought he came from a prestigious family. Turns out he doesn’t?”
“I only found out from Senior Brother Li. Don’t spread it around. It’s said that Junior Brother Xiao’s parents passed away early, and…”
Meng Xueli furrowed his brow slightly upon hearing this.
The story of a lonely and impoverished youth in the wilderness rising to become a genius of the immortal sect, like a jade unearthed from a pile of rocks, indeed had a hint of legend to it, worthy of discussion.
The speakers had no malicious intentions, just simple curiosity. However, unintended words could still have an impact on the listener. Meng Xueli thought, if that Junior Brother Xiao knew his classmates were discussing his background behind his back, he probably wouldn’t feel very good.
Just like how he didn’t like hearing others compare a junior to Ji Xiao, regardless of the speaker’s intentions.
As the disciples chatted happily, Meng Xueli’s mind wandered. There was no one else on this floor, so he thought of sneaking up behind them and suddenly shouting to startle them.
Putting down his book, he suppressed his breath and stealthily approached. As he neared, just behind a bookshelf… suddenly, a person emerged from the shadows, almost face-to-face with him!
Caught off guard, Meng Xueli recoiled in shock, stumbling back two steps and crashing into the bookshelf. The candlestick hanging overhead swayed violently, and the lit candles threatened to fall straight down.
He should have easily dodged and instinctively counterattacked. However, in that moment, he saw the person’s face clearly.
The next instant, Meng Xueli was pulled into their arms. The lamp fell, leaving a streak of sparks in the darkness.
With one arm around him and the other catching the candle, the person reached over his head and securely placed it back on the stand.
“Are you okay?”
Meng Xueli stood there in a daze. Suddenly, a strange feeling surged in his heart, as if they had known each other before, or as if it had been predetermined for them to meet.
A rush of complex emotions overwhelmed him, leaving him wanting to cry and laugh at the same time, unable to distinguish between sadness and joy.
The person seemed displeased with his recklessness, stepping back two paces but not letting go. “This is a longevity lamp fueled by shark oil. It has been burning for a thousand years, and the flame is very hot.”
Meng Xueli couldn’t hear clearly, only seeing the candlelight in their eyes when he looked up.
It wasn’t until a stern shout sounded not far away, “Do not be disrespectful! This is Elder Meng from Changchun Peak.”
When Liu Xiaohuai went upstairs, he encountered a group of panicked outer disciples running around. He ran closer and saw Meng Xueli, tearful and being restrained by someone, not daring to resist.
He summoned the courage when he faced Qiao Xianming: “Release Elder Meng immediately!”
Huge shoutout to @_nyanmaru_ on Discord for commissioning this! The chapter will be posted regularly, show your support for Ciacia at Kofi.
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