Chapter 34: Recuperation

Several days had passed since the display of techniques in the Fourth Hall. While the other peaks still debated heatedly over the dramatic contest, Flying Peak remained as tranquil as ever, filled with birdsong and the fragrance of blossoms.

Shen Yu felt uncomfortable. His injured right hand was suspended in a white silk sling, and his body had grown stiff from harboring too much spiritual energy. Incapacitated, he had spent several tedious days lying on a bamboo chair.

Sometimes, Su Mo would bring a new scroll and read him a few passages, but Shen Yu found the Confucian prose far too convoluted and dull; after a single session, he had forbidden Su Mo from returning.

On this particular day, Shen Yu felt his body had eased a little, and even the bamboo groves and sea of flowers around him seemed more pleasing to the eye.

“Shen Yu.”

A pure, lively voice called from beyond the bamboo grove. It was familiar, yet it seemed he hadn’t heard it for a long time. Shen Yu turned his head toward the edge of the grove, where he saw a young girl he hadn’t met in nearly two years—or rather, a maiden now.

The girl's once round, plump cheeks had thinned; her face was as delicate and luminous as an egg, and her body had grown willowy and graceful. The twin buns she used to wear had given way to a simple ponytail that swayed with her every step, energetic and full of life.

Shang Yingluo’s eyes curved in a crescent smile, and upon seeing Shen Yu in the distance, she hurried toward him.

“You’ve grown taller,” Shen Yu remarked with a smile, but the next moment, his expression changed drastically.

The little girl, Shang Yingluo, showed no intention of stopping even when she was just a pace away, but instead, as she once had two years ago, threw herself straight into his arms. Clearly, she’d forgotten she was no longer a child, and that Shen Yu’s injured arm could not possibly catch her.

“Stop!” Shen Yu called out hastily.

But Shang Yingluo paid him no mind, her steps unchecked.

“Calamity,” Shen Yu sighed, closing his eyes and resigning himself to fate.

Yet, after a moment, the pain he’d expected never came. Opening his eyes, he found Shang Yingluo standing before him, waving her arms with a strange expression. Then, a stunning face appeared behind her—it was Yu Wenwen, who had caught the girl’s ponytail and pulled her back.

Shen Yu was silent for a long time before saying with a complicated look, “Thank you.”

...

“Shen Yu, it’s so quiet here. On my way up the mountain, at the arched bridge, I actually saw a flood dragon! A real flood dragon, the first I’ve ever seen in my life—by the time I got closer, it was already gone.”

“The mist in the woods was so thick I could barely see the path,” she chattered on. “Are you the only one living up here?”

...

After nearly two years apart, Shang Yingluo circled Shen Yu, talking without pause—mostly recounting her adventures and the odd stories she’d heard. Shen Yu watched her with a gentle smile, listening quietly, just as he used to on the summit of Bamboo Peak.

After a while, Shen Yu reached out to ruffle her hair, signaling her to hush, and then turned his gaze to the young woman sitting quietly in the distance.

Yu Wenwen said, “Little Shishu heard about your injury and kept insisting on visiting you, so I brought her along.”

Shen Yu was momentarily taken aback, but then realized that the “little shishu” was Shang Yingluo.

“You’re quite famous in the Daoist Sect,” Yu Wenwen remarked. “Of all the disciples from the Fourth Hall and Seven Peaks, you’re the one most talked about.” Her eyes fell on Shen Yu’s right hand. “But I never imagined your injury would be this serious.”

Shen Yu said nothing; his wounds were indeed grave this time—had he been an ordinary person, he would have long since lost consciousness.

Yu Wenwen continued, “When it all happened, I was in seclusion. Otherwise, I would have gone to Sitting Forgetfulness Peak myself.”

Shen Yu understood what she referred to. She had come to apologize for not intervening.

He shook his head. “You’re not to blame for what happened.”

Yu Wenwen looked at Shang Yingluo and said earnestly, “It does matter.”

“She’s still young and doesn’t really understand,” Shen Yu replied.

Shang Yingluo bristled. “I do understand! Why wouldn’t I?”

Shen Yu and Yu Wenwen ignored her protest.

Casually tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Yu Wenwen said, “I should let you know—Zhang Zhi and the Hall Master of Pure Law Hall, Xun Ju, are from the same sect. After this, you’ll have more trouble ahead.”

Shen Yu nodded. “It’s fine.”

Yu Wenwen frowned. “Aren’t you worried at all?”

“There are many things I have to worry about—like the little girl’s cultivation progress, or how the green luan bird has been feeling lately.” Shen Yu’s tone was calm. “But what you mentioned isn’t worth my concern. I knew about their connection from the start. Otherwise, how would Sitting Forgetfulness Peak have dared to oppress disciples from other peaks, let alone have their peak master, a cultivator at the Divine Wandering Realm, act personally?”

Yu Wenwen was puzzled for a long moment. “Then why did you do it?”

Shen Yu replied, “They bullied Yang Liu, Shang Yingluo, Ye Zhiqiu, and Jiang Shaoqiu. So I fought back. There’s no other reason—when injustice stirs my heart, I strike, no matter if their patron is Xun Ju or anyone else.”

Yu Wenwen was silent for a long time, then asked solemnly, “Is that the path in your heart?”

Shen Yu said, “All who walk the path of cultivation are the same.”

...

After the two had gone, others came up the mountain in turn.

Jiang Shaoqiu made his way through the bamboo grove, nervously announcing that he was there on behalf of the Hall of Manifesting Law.

In the nearly two years since they had last met, Jiang Shaoqiu’s handsome features had gained a trace of maturity, and his demeanor had grown steadier and calmer—a marked change from his days on Bamboo Peak. However, his steps were still a bit unsteady as he walked.

He had been the most seriously injured when he joined Shang Yingluo on Sitting Forgetfulness Peak. His cultivation was the lowest, and since Ye Zhiqiu was from Pure Law Hall and Shang Yingluo was the Hall Master’s junior at the Hall of True Crossing, neither of them could be targeted. Only Jiang Shaoqiu, from the Hall of Manifesting Law and lacking any background, was singled out by Zhang Zhi.

After some brief conversation, Jiang Shaoqiu rose to take his leave. As he was departing, Shen Yu casually pulled a classic tome from the table and handed it to him. Jiang Shaoqiu glanced at the cover, his expression changing dramatically as he hurriedly tried to refuse.

“Reading more is always a good thing,” Shen Yu said, leaning back in his bamboo chair. “Just read it yourself and don’t mention it to others.”

Jiang Shaoqiu’s face grew grave, but in the end, he accepted the ancient scroll and bowed to Shen Yu.

“The disciples Manifesting Law Hall has taken in these past years may not be the most gifted, but every generation produces some who can stand toe-to-toe with the true prodigies,” Su Mo remarked as he entered the courtyard, watching Jiang Shaoqiu’s departing figure. “Ming Jian, and that boy just now—neither is especially talented, yet their cultivation progresses as swiftly as anyone else’s. The discernment of Dao Xuan, Hall Master of Manifesting Law Hall, is truly unmatched in the entire Daoist Sect.”

Shen Yu smiled. “Senior brother, who do you think will be stronger—him or Ye Zhiqiu?”

Su Mo shook his head. “I can’t say, but within ten years, I’d wager on Ye Zhiqiu.”

Shen Yu replied, “I beg to differ. Why don’t we place a bet?”

He was truly too bored.

Su Mo shot him an exasperated look. “You’re hopeless.”

Shen Yu lay back with a sigh—his senior brother was just too dull.

Meanwhile, at the foot of Flying Peak, Jiang Shaoqiu stood clutching the ancient scroll, worry clouding his features. Not far off, a figure emerged. When he saw the person’s face clearly, the young man was utterly astonished.