Chapter 28: Just Taking a Look

Life continued on as uneventful as ever.

At the foot of the mountain beneath Flying Peak, a yellow mongrel would sometimes dash up to the summit, chasing after the spirit-infused rabbits that darted through the bamboo groves. Its barking echoed so loudly that it could be heard all across the peak.

Each day, apart from his cultivation, Shen Yu would spend time by the deep pool halfway up the mountain, feeding the spirit carp.

A month had passed since Dao Fan, the revered master, had last brought news from outside. It seemed to have left little impression on Shen Yu, who maintained his usual air of tranquil detachment.

Yet Su Mo sensed that the youth had grown even more reticent, speaking less and less as days went by.

“This sect is vast, and as its numbers grow, so too do grudges and entanglements of interest,” Su Mo remarked one morning, stopping Shen Yu on the path. “Young disciples must learn patience. The road of cultivation is never smooth—there will always be trials to endure.”

Shen Yu nodded and replied, “I understand.”

Su Mo shook his head gently. “You say you understand, but you still mind it, don’t you?”

Shen Yu answered in a tone of indifference, “To be honest, such things mean little to me. If a junior’s spirit treasure is destroyed or she loses in a sparring match, it’s all quite ordinary. Even if someone falls in a duel at the arena, it doesn’t trouble me. Life and death—having witnessed so much—are no different to me than eating or drinking.”

Su Mo listened to these dispassionate words, knowing this was the first time Shen Yu had voiced his true feelings in all these days. Though his words were cold, a trace of warmth lingered beneath.

Su Mo was well aware that, despite never replying to the letters sent by their fellow disciples, Shen Yu had carefully organized each one and placed them neatly on his shelf.

After a moment’s silence, Shen Yu spoke again. “But the one who set the rules, has now personally broken them.”

Su Mo immediately understood who he meant: Zhang Zhi, the head of Sitting Forget Peak, one of the seven peaks of the sect. He looked at the youth intently, his expression subtly shifting.

“They do all this because of me,” Shen Yu said calmly. “So, I intend to leave the mountain for a time.”

Since his arrival at Flying Peak more than a year ago, Shen Yu had never set foot beyond its boundaries. Yet now, he abruptly announced his intention to descend the mountain.

Su Mo seemed unsurprised, as if he had long anticipated this. Smiling, he said, “When our master traveled the world, he brought back a bird. Go speak with it—you’ll find it’s more than willing to carry you down.”

“Thank you, Senior Brother.”

With his gratitude expressed, Shen Yu set off down the mountain without the slightest hesitation.

Watching the youth’s departing figure, Su Mo shook his head and murmured, “So, these dull days are finally at an end.”

...

Shen Yu found the bird by a pool at the foot of the peak. Upon seeing it, he couldn’t help but marvel—it was a blue luan, a creature of legendary beauty and pride.

He mentioned that Senior Brother had sent him, and the blue luan immediately became most enthusiastic.

Above, a faint halo of ochre-tinged light enveloped the entire inner sect, crisscrossed by countless threads of multicolored light that fused, separated, and drifted aimlessly through the air.

This was the sect’s famed Mountain Guarding Array, the Twin Principles Primordial Formation. Legend had it that the founder himself devised it, with a mighty cultivator at the Ascension Realm watching over its core at all times, and thirty-six Spirit Wandering cultivators standing guard at every angle. It was said even a true immortal would have to expend their full strength to break through.

Seated cross-legged on the blue luan’s back, Shen Yu ignored the dazzling spectacle around him and closed his eyes in sleep.

The spirit bird’s flight over the sect drew a crowd of watchers. The existence of a divine beast with ancient bloodlines in Abyssal Hall was no secret, though its proud temperament and the fact that Senior Brother had never taken it out made sightings rare.

Some clever disciples, piecing together recent events at Sitting Forget Peak, deduced that the rider atop the bird must be the sect leader’s second disciple.

“So, Shen Yu has finally come out.”

“What can a mere Initiate Realm disciple accomplish? Besides, none of the other three halls even pursued the matter.”

“Look, he’s heading for Pure Law Hall.”

The blue luan soared directly over Pure Law Hall, slowing slightly, whether by design or chance.

Fang Hen’s imposing figure appeared above the hall, his eyes cold and expression dark.

Lan Yingxing, beside him, sneered, “That arrogant brat—does he think Pure Law Hall has no one to match him?”

Chen Jianzhi stood silent at the steps of the Disciplinary Pavilion, hands clasped behind his back. Ye Zhiqiu’s face was grim with cold fury.

The spirit bird drifted lazily over Pure Law Hall; no one made a move to intercept, and soon it vanished into the sea of clouds.

Disciples all across the sect stared, disappointed—no confrontation had occurred as they had hoped.

The blue luan continued on, passing over the Truth Crossing Hall and the Law Derivation Hall, finally arriving at Sitting Forget Peak, the most secluded of all the sect’s summits.

Shen Yu dismounted and walked toward the summit.

In the year since he had joined Abyssal Hall, news of him had been scarce, so many disciples at Sitting Forget Peak did not recognize him. Some of the female disciples’ eyes lit up at the sight of his delicate features, while the male disciples were quietly startled by the ethereal aura that surrounded him. None, however, approached to ask his name.

Shen Yu made his way to a secluded courtyard halfway up the mountain, where the ground was littered with yellowed leaves. From a house built against a cliff came the sound of violent coughing.

Within lay a gentle-featured woman, her face pale and her once rosy lips now cracked and dry, her hair in disarray. She struggled to sit up and reach for a porcelain cup on the table, but her limbs were weak, and as she rose, dizziness overcame her.

With a sigh, Yang Liu closed her eyes and allowed herself to fall—yet instead of pain, she felt a gentle warmth against her cheek. She had collapsed into someone’s arms.

...

Inside the house, Yang Liu cradled a cup of tea, reclining against the bed’s edge, her gaze fixed on the disappearing figure outside the window.

Her damaged sword, Flowing Cloud, which had been cast aside in a corner, now glowed brilliantly, hovering before her with an aura more formidable than ever.

After swallowing the pill Shen Yu had given her, her injured meridians healed in an instant. The spiritual energy of heaven and earth surged once more into her dantian, flowing even more swiftly than before.

After tending to her, the youth had spoken only a few words.

“All of this is because of me.”

“They struck you. I’ll strike back.”

“Next time something like this happens, come tell me at Flying Peak.”

...

Shen Yu stood at the edge of a cliff, his departure delayed as he gazed toward the summit shrouded in cloud.

No one knew what he was seeing, but his eyes were bright and sharp as blades.

High above, a middle-aged man in blue robes seemed to sense something and lifted his gaze.

Across countless layers of cloud, it was as if the two could see one another.

“Zhang Zhi,” Shen Yu said coldly. “Don’t be impatient—your turn is coming soon.”

Though his voice was soft, Shen Yu knew the other would hear.

Suddenly, the clouds atop the summit churned violently, thunder and wind roaring through the sky.

Shen Yu cast a final, indifferent glance and turned away.

He had said he was only going for a walk down the mountain, so whether he toured the three halls or visited Yang Liu at Sitting Forget Peak, it was all just to see for himself.

Not even the deliberate disdain of the peak master—who stood on the verge of the highest cultivation realm—could ruffle him.

Some sights, after all, are only worth a passing glance.

Yet who could say what he might do after witnessing them?

Descending the mountain, Shen Yu heard many disciples discussing the upcoming Four Halls Dao Debate—one of the sect’s greatest events in years.

They argued over whether the sword-wielding Yu Wenwen from Truth Crossing Hall or newly emerged Fang Hen from Pure Law Hall was the greater talent.

“How long until the Four Halls exhibition?” Shen Yu suddenly asked a female cultivator chatting with her companions at the foot of the peak.

The girl, taken aback by his handsome features, blushed and replied softly, “Senior Brother, there are nine days left.”

“Thank you,” Shen Yu replied, then departed.

She stood staring after him, murmuring, “Such an ethereal air… Which hall is he from?”

...

Shen Yu remounted the blue luan, soaring freely into the sky.

The head of Sitting Forget Peak, Zhang Zhi, had cast aside all decorum—destroying Yang Liu’s spirit treasure, injuring Shang Yingluo and others. Every act was meant to provoke Shen Yu.

But why would a peak master go to such lengths? What could he possibly gain by harming his own disciples and injuring talents from three halls?

Within the sect, only the Four Halls could offer him any benefit.

Thinking back over the recent events, Shen Yu recalled Lan Yingxing’s brooding face from that day.

So, their aim was to force him to participate in the Four Halls exhibition—and regain their pride there.

Shen Yu opened his eyes, his expression calm.

“Nine days should be enough.”

He murmured these words, then straightened atop the blue luan and let out a long, clear cry.

At once, the vast sea of clouds dispersed, and a flood of spiritual energy surged into his body.

It was as if a whale were swallowing the sea—an awe-inspiring sight that shook the heavens and earth.