Chapter Thirty-Five: Willow Ascends the Mountain

The man’s long hair draped over his shoulders, and he wore a robe of deep blue as he slowly walked along the mountain path. The warm sunlight fell upon him, gentle as jade, and among all the disciples of the Daoist Sect, he was by far the most striking in appearance. Yet, due to certain events, the Daoist crown that had accompanied him for many years had been taken by someone else, and now his hair was tied with a simple white ribbon.

After nodding slightly to Jiang Shaoqiu, the man passed by without a word.

Jiang Shaoqiu was puzzled. Wasn’t he seriously injured during the demonstration at the Four Halls? Why was he not resting but instead coming to the Sacred Abyss Hall atop Flying Peak?

...

Chen Jianzhi’s presence was calm, showing no trace of injury. This was his first visit to the Sacred Abyss Hall, but he seemed intimately familiar with Flying Peak. The arched bridge with its spirit carp and the misty forest failed to detain him for even a moment.

Soon, he reached a courtyard nestled within a bamboo grove.

Shen Yu appeared to be deep in slumber, oblivious to his arrival. Su Mo, however, at some point emerged from the house carrying several cups of spirit tea, inviting him in with a smile.

It was Chen Jianzhi’s first time meeting Su Mo, the Sect’s most enigmatic senior brother, and he dared not show the slightest disrespect. He bowed deeply, performing a formal salute.

“No need for ceremony. You two talk; I’ll go check on my swordgrass,” Su Mo said before leaving the courtyard.

Chen Jianzhi looked at Shen Yu and said, “Senior Brother Fang was gravely wounded, but his life is spared.”

Shen Yu, still with eyes closed, slowly opened them and replied with indifference, “He was lucky.”

To survive is indeed fortunate.

Unexpectedly, Chen Jianzhi did not react with anger upon hearing this. He said, “They used those petty tricks to set you up. I knew nothing of it, nor would I stoop to such underhanded means.”

Shen Yu remained silent.

After a pause, Chen Jianzhi continued, “I’d like to challenge you fairly, once you’re healed. I’ll suppress my cultivation to the entry level.”

Shen Yu shook his head. “You won’t beat me.”

At last, a hint of change crossed Chen Jianzhi’s usually placid face. He frowned slightly. “You are strong, but I will not lose to you.”

Shen Yu said, “To struggle with others, to kill or be killed—such contests mean nothing to me.”

Chen Jianzhi was left without words.

The disciples of the Clear Law Hall had used all manner of unsavory tricks to push Shen Yu into the Four Halls demonstration, desperate to reclaim their so-called honor. Yet in the end, their senior brother barely survived, and the other two were seriously wounded.

“The path of cultivation is to reach the mountain’s summit. Some move quickly, others lag behind but overtake midway.”

Shen Yu glanced at the ribbon in his visitor’s hair and said coolly, “So-called prodigies in cultivation ought to keep their hearts pure. When your Daoist heart is pure, then I’ll accept your challenge.”

Chen Jianzhi gazed at the youth before him for a long time, saying nothing.

Shen Yu closed his eyes again. “Farewell.”

“Farewell.”

Chen Jianzhi rose and, with a complicated expression, descended the mountain.

When his figure disappeared, Su Mo arrived outside the courtyard, carrying a small hoe. “Though Chen Jianzhi is only the second disciple of Clear Law Hall, his talent surpasses Fang Hen’s. Are you confident you can defeat him?”

Shen Yu replied calmly, “I am. But in matters like this, winning brings no benefit, and losing is humiliating. Better not to fight at all.”

Su Mo laughed. “In the end, you’ll have to face him.”

Shen Yu looked at him in confusion.

Su Mo only smiled, saying nothing.

...

On Sitting-Forgotten Peak, a crisp cry from a green phoenix bird drew the attention of countless disciples.

Yang Liu had never attracted such notice before; her cheeks were flushed as she stepped onto the spirit bird under so many gazes.

When Jiang Shaoqiu had told her about this a few days ago, she thought he was joking. Yet today, it was real.

Yang Liu had disliked this place from the moment she arrived—the cold stares and arrogance of her peers, the indifference and ruthlessness of the masters. All of it made her uneasy.

So this time, she had no hesitation.

Zhang Zhi stood at the summit, hands clasped behind his back, his face dark and gloomy, but in the end he said nothing.

From afar, Shen Yu saw the spirit bird rise straight to the mountaintop and asked in surprise, “Can the bird really fly directly up here?”

Su Mo nodded. “It can.”

Shen Yu pressed, “Wasn’t it said that newcomers must walk up?”

Su Mo answered coolly, “You’re still too naive.”

Shen Yu could not reply.

The spirit bird landed.

After Yang Liu dismounted, she looked timidly at the two, fingers nervously twisting her sleeve.

Shen Yu asked, “How do you feel?”

Su Mo said, “Her temperament is good. A new house can be built in the spirit herb garden outside the bamboo grove. Let her tend to the mountain’s herbs and medicines.”

Shen Yu nodded. “Yes, and she can study the Daoist classics as well.”

Su Mo smiled, thinking his junior brother was truly compassionate.

All of this was to let the young girl stay at Sacred Abyss Hall. When their master returned from seclusion, he would hardly be able to send her away.

Su Mo said, “Teach her if you wish, I don’t mind.”

Shen Yu turned to the bewildered girl. “This is your senior brother. From now on, you’ll live here and learn from him. There’s no need to be afraid.”

Yang Liu whispered, “Greetings, senior brother.”

Su Mo was momentarily surprised, then nodded and left.

Yang Liu watched his departing back and said softly, “Senior brother seems easy to get along with. But you, brother, look as though strangers should keep their distance.”

Shen Yu smiled helplessly.

It seemed life on the mountain was about to become interesting once more.