Chapter 80: As Deep as the Abyss, As Steadfast as a Mountain
Yu Qishu walked through Hanmen City.
The Hanhai Secret Realm had opened at the beginning of spring, and now, with the great competition in its final stage, the human world had already entered the turn of spring to summer.
The spring light was radiant, willows trailed their green branches, and the breeze was neither chill nor dry — the perfect time to wear light spring robes.
On the main streets, carts and horses rattled past, and the crowds bustled in endless streams. Tavern boys stood at their doors calling for customers, and street hawkers shouted to sell their wares. Cultivators, too, came and went, gathering to trade at “Hengtong Juyuan,” each with different accents and dress, traveling from all directions. This was a city where cultivators and mortals lived side by side, prosperous, wealthy, and at peace.
Yu Qishu thought that if war were to break out, none of this would remain. With the Sect Leader gravely injured and Daoist Revered Tai Heng betraying the mountain, what would become of Han Shan in the future? He did not know. But so long as he remembered that Sword Sovereign Ji Xiao was still alive in this world, hope surged endlessly within him.
There were some people whose very existence was a battle standard.
When he stepped out from the main street where “Hengtong Juyuan” was located and turned into a narrow alley, five or six itinerant cultivators slipped out from a pawnshop and trailed quietly after him.
One of them sent a sound transmission to his companion: “That’s him, Yu Qishu?”
“I’ve been watching all morning, no mistake. The head steward himself welcomed him upstairs and saw him out. Who else could it be but Yu Qishu?”
The leader of the group was a female cultivator named Qing Dai. She frowned slightly. “It doesn’t look like him. Look — the sword at his waist. He should be a sword cultivator. But the one we saw used a strange weapon, like a long spear… I’ll test him. You all don’t reveal yourselves.”
For cultivators, it was possible to disguise one’s appearance, but it was much harder to change the weapon one wielded, or the cultivation techniques one practiced.
Qing Dai had led her elite rogue-cultivator squad into the secret realm, intending to make a grand showing. Yet on the very first day, the very first encounter, they had run into Meng Xueli. They had tried to rob someone but ended up being robbed instead, their journey in the great competition cut short before it even began.
She refused to believe she had really lost to Meng Xueli. She thought someone must have been impersonating him, baiting fat sheep. When she repeatedly questioned, that person had said his name was Yu Qishu.
The alley was long and narrow, dimly lit, with a single shaft of spring sunlight slanting down across the blue stone bricks. Yu Qishu carried a rat in his arms, absently stroking its fur. Suddenly, a blade swept across his path, blocking his way.
The hem of a pale cyan dress whirled in the air like a great flower suddenly blooming, filling the dark alley with color.
Though the long blade was still sheathed, its sharp intent surged forth. Yu Qishu was caught off guard, the light before him dimming. When the blossom of blue closed again, he saw a stranger before him — a woman standing proudly, brimming with vigor and spirit.
Qing Dai noticed he neither dodged nor flinched, and her expression shifted. She did not know that Yu Qishu carried a jiao’s core. She thought he must have expected this already, knowing the force of her blade’s energy could not harm him, and so he disdained even to avoid it.
Yu Qishu said in surprise, “Fellow Daoist, what instruction do you have for me?” With Han Shan Sword Sect presiding over the city, combat was forbidden within its walls — surely this woman was not here simply to cause trouble?
Qing Dai studied him closely. His looks were handsome, his clothes fine and embroidered, a sleek-furred pet cradled in his arms. He was nothing like the man she had seen in the secret realm — instead, he looked like a pampered noble son, indulging in dog-fighting and cockfighting. In other words, far more like the rumored Meng Xueli of old.
What was going on? Who was Yu Qishu, and who was Meng Xueli? Who had played the pig to eat the tiger in the secret realm, setting up “tests of morality”? And who had fought Daoist Revered Tai Heng at Han Shan, becoming famous overnight? Her heart was filled with questions.
“You’re Yu Qishu? The ‘qi’ from ‘Qimo Lianxiang Chen’, and the ‘shu’ from ‘Shuying Hengxie’?”
“Yes, that’s me.” Yu Qishu groaned inwardly. As the saying went, fame invites trouble like fattening invites slaughter. Sure enough, someone had come knocking to challenge him already.
“You don’t remember me?”
Yu Qishu shook his head honestly, thinking, You look so beautiful—if I’d really seen you before, there’s no way I would’ve forgotten.
“Is this your sword?”
Yu Qishu was even more confused. “This sword is called Willow by the Pool. Young lady, what exactly do you want from me?”
Qing Dai lowered her gaze to the blade. “This is a woman cultivator’s sword. Not yours. Where’s your real sword? That ever-shifting, strange weapon of yours?”
Yu Qishu’s expression hardened. “This sword may not be precious, but it holds special meaning to me. If you have nothing else, please step aside.” He couldn’t be blamed for his sudden change in attitude. When he first performed on Sword Training Platform at Han Shan, his sword Willow by the Pool—slender and elegant in appearance—was often mocked by others. But it had been his mother’s dowry, and while others laughed, he cherished it.
He reached out and brushed aside the long blade blocking his path, then strode away. The little rat in his arms poked its head out and bared its teeth at Qing Dai.
After he had gone far, five or six itinerant cultivators emerged and gathered together.
One of them asked, “Boss, what do you think?”
Qing Dai shook her head. “I can’t figure him out. His cultivation is clearly low, and yet he wasn’t cowed in the slightest by the pressure of my blade.”
Another asked, “You think he’s concealing his true cultivation?”
Qing Dai said, “It’s possible his cultivation is actually higher than mine, which is why I couldn’t see through him. Either way, that boy is strange. We’d better be careful. The losses we took in the secret realm… it seems we won’t be able to make them back for now. We’ll just have to wait for another chance.”
Someone else, sour and mocking, snorted, “He’s a grown man, yet he carries a woman’s sword. It must’ve been gifted by some female cultivator! And look at his face—definitely a fickle, frivolous sort. Boss, don’t tell me you’re defending him because you’ve taken a liking to him?”
Qing Dai’s voice went cold. “We came to Hanmen City to discuss business with Qian Zhenren. Our great venture hasn’t yet succeeded. Stop wasting time with this nonsense!” With that, she strode toward Hengtong Juyuan.
Her companion chuckled. “That’s right—entanglements of love weaken a hero’s spirit. And our boss is a true hero!”
Another added, “Once the ‘Loose Cultivator Alliance’ is established, we won’t be calling you boss anymore. We’ll be calling you Alliance Leader!”
…
Meng Xueli had no idea that one offhand joke of his—uttered without a second thought—had, in some people’s minds, turned into a puzzling mystery beyond comprehension.
He was standing in the central courtyard of the city, his head slightly tilted as he waited for his disciple to undo his cloak. From this close, he studied Xiao Tingyun’s calm, handsome features and teased him in a low voice: “Your explanations are better than mine. You should really go teach at the Hall of Legal Principles. Why did you climb up Changchun Peak to become a sword cultivator?”
Who would’ve thought Ji Xiao, after a thoughtful pause, would smile and say, “Once everything is settled, I’ll go become a teacher.”
Meng Xueli was startled. Before he could ask more, his disciple had already walked out of the courtyard, draping the silver cloak over his arm.
Meng Xueli gathered his thoughts, holding Hundred Generations of Time. He tapped the spear-tip against the ground and swept his gaze around. “Who’s next?”
The courtyard was utterly silent.
One Han Shan sword cultivator stepped forward: “Elder Meng, by order of the queue it should be my turn. But after watching Senior Brother Cui’s match against Junior Brother Xiao, I’ve gained a deep insight and urgently wish to sort through it. So I’d ask the next one to go first.”
He looked at the person behind him, but that person waved his hands repeatedly. “With such brilliance before me, how could a clumsy stone like me show my face? Let the next one go first.”
Ji Xiao’s swordplay had aligned with the very principles of heaven and earth, and he had deliberately slowed the pace. All those present were the most exceptional of young disciples, with outstanding comprehension. Even if they weren’t sword users, they had still grasped something.
Someone muttered, “I feel like going back to the sect and shutting myself in seclusion right now.”
Everyone chimed in—opportunities for breakthroughs were rare, something that could only be encountered by chance, never sought out.
Originally, although they could not defeat Meng Xueli or Xiao Tingyun, they could at least challenge one another. The disciples who remained until the later stages of the competition were mostly aiming to gain fame. But after this secret realm ended, the one whose name shone the brightest, and who obtained the Endless Sky Sword, would undoubtedly be Meng Xueli. No one could rival him. Since that was the case, it was better to seize this fleeting moment of enlightenment, return to their sects, enter closed-door cultivation, and strive for the next realm. Fame was illusory—cultivation was real.
Meng Xueli thought for a moment, then said, “Hearing you all speak of it this way, I want to break through too. Everyone, go ahead and break through first.”
Everyone looked at each other, stunned and baffled—because no one understood what he meant.
For a cultivator, breaking through a realm was an incredibly serious and perilous matter. It required a place where spiritual energy was abundant, quiet, and free of disturbance, with elders of the sect standing guard to protect and oversee the process. So why did Elder Meng say it as if he were saying: ‘I’m a little thirsty, let’s all drink some water first.’
Meng Xueli paid no attention to the complicated expressions of the others. After speaking, he simply put away his spear and sat cross-legged on the spot. Xiao Tingyun stood with hands behind his back, quietly watching him.
The night he obtained Hundred Generations of Time, Meng Xueli had been so stirred with emotion that he ran all the way up to the observation platform of Changchun Peak, chopping down trees and splitting rocks, and naturally broke through his realm in one smooth flow. Ever since then, Meng Xueli believed that breakthroughs should happen exactly like that.
Jing Di could not help but ask, “Xueli, you mean…”
Before he could finish, his expression changed dramatically. Invisible spiritual energy between heaven and earth suddenly converged, rushing toward the courtyard at lightning speed. Meng Xueli had actually begun to break through.
As Meng Xueli absorbed the spiritual energy, his aura surged higher and higher. Everyone clearly felt the change and was left shocked and speechless.
The wind howled, clouds churned, sand and dust rose into the air. Sunlight flickered as the sky alternated between brightness and shadow, the six stone pillars’ shadows appearing and vanishing in turn.
Ji Xiao spoke: “You all may sit and enter meditation. This is a fine opportunity—perhaps you will gain something.”
At this point, no one asked questions. With Meng Xueli drawing the spiritual energy of heaven and earth together, combined with the insights they had accumulated from watching the battle earlier, it was indeed the perfect time to meditate. Only, there was still wariness between disciples of different sects.
The disciples of Han Shan were the first to gather together, encircling Cui Jing in their midst. “Senior Brother Cui, your talent is the best among us. You’re the most likely to advance further. We will guard your breakthrough.”
Their decision was not made out of selflessness, but for the sake of their sect. Cui Jing closed his eyes and entered meditation, his sword laid across his knees.
Ji Xiao frowned slightly, then said calmly, “No need to guard. I am here.”
Jing Di was overjoyed. “In that case, many thanks to Daoist Friend Xiao for your selfless protection. We shall trouble you with this task.”
Ji Xiao cast him a glance and said nothing, but his silence was tacit agreement.
Jing Di’s group sat down to meditate on the spot. With someone taking the lead, others were unwilling to just sit idly by and miss the opportunity, so they too began entering meditation one after another.
From afar, Meng Xueli sat cross-legged in the very center of the courtyard, while the rest sat within the battle circle Ji Xiao had drawn, with only Ji Xiao standing, hands clasped behind his back.
The fierce wind lifted the hem of his robes. Though his hands were empty, he carried an unshakable, mountain-like presence.
The courtyard lay in a low depression, bordered on three sides by forest, with one side leading toward the underground palace of Central City. Ji Xiao surveyed the surroundings. He knew that within the dense forest, a group of figures cloaked in black had already formed a tightening encirclement, rapidly pressing in toward the courtyard. Thick clouds blotted out the sun, the fierce wind lashed the grass flat.
The momentum was overwhelming—the newcomers clearly came with ill intent.
Ji Xiao’s expression did not change.
Author’s Note: Meng Xueli: I want to see what true experts look like.
Ji Xiao: Easy.jpg
Huge shoutout to @_nyanmaru_ on Discord for commissioning this! The chapter will be posted regularly, show your support for Ciacia at Kofi.
