34. The Second Update Today

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“You know what happened to Grandmaster Shen—the extinguished lamp and shattered sword, don’t you?”

On the second floor of a tea shop by the window, Xie Chang’an began with that question, idly turning the teacup in her hand.

Shen Xi nodded. For most disciples of Crimson Frost Mountain, this matter was an absolute secret, but not from him—the senior disciple who would one day inherit the sect master’s mantle.

“But no one can prove that Perfected Shen failed to ascend, because no one ever witnessed his fall. Perfected Canmiao, on the other hand, failed her tribulation in front of our own eyes.”

Xie Chang’an asked, “Apart from Shen Liuzhi, do you remember who the most recent cultivator to successfully survive the tribulation was?”

Shen Xi replied, “It should have been Lord Boyang of Southern Peak Grotto-Heaven, roughly six hundred years ago. He was also the second sect master of Southern Peak Grotto-Heaven. Before him, there was Perfected Su Youfa of Crimson Frost Mountain. He too is recorded in history as having ascended to immortality in broad daylight.”

Xie Chang’an looked at him. “In other words, aside from those two, everyone before them belongs to the realm of legend?”

Shen Xi said calmly, “And what of it?”

“I admit that surviving the tribulation is a barrier that nine out of ten cultivators in this world cannot cross. But are there really so few grandmasters who possess both talent and ability? With Perfected Canmiao’s cultivation and foundation, why did she fall? We saw with our own eyes that the heavenly tribulation which descended upon her far exceeded what it should have been. In the end, to preserve the sect, she had no choice but to sacrifice herself. Senior Brother Shen, have you truly never suspected anything—not even a little?”

“Suspected what?”

Xie Chang’an enunciated each word. “The Heavenly Dao.”

Shen Xi’s breathing faltered. He immediately barked, “Xie Chang’an!”

The two stared at each other for a long while before the young woman sighed. “Senior Brother Shen, if you had never harbored the slightest suspicion, you wouldn’t have reacted like this.”

Shen Xi refused to say whether he had ever doubted it. He merely frowned. “You’re mistaken. What do you mean, the heavenly tribulation exceeded the number it should have had? A heavenly tribulation is not a fixed quantity. It isn’t as though someone announces a number and that is all there will be, nor can you bargain with it. A single thought in a cultivator’s heart can often stir the response of all things. How do you know that Perfected Canmiao’s life of ease did not mean that all her tribulations were reserved for this one moment?”

“Besides, other than Lord Boyang and Perfected Su, there were many cultivators who attained immortality in ancient times. They have merely become legends now. You cannot simply suspect the Heavenly Dao because no one has ascended in recent years…” He paused. “The workings of Heaven are constant. They do not exist for the sake of Yao, nor perish for the sake of Jie. The Heavenly Dao is impartial. Everyone knows that.”

“Are you trying to convince me,” Xie Chang’an asked, “or yourself?”

Shen Xi: …

He had once traveled among famous mountains and great rivers, seen every kind of demon and monster, and witnessed the dangers and treachery of the martial world. He knew that cultivators were merely people who stood above others by virtue of their power. Strip away that immortal, lofty exterior, and there was no shortage of intrigue, scheming, and wickedness among them. He would never be like some aloof flower raised in isolation from the world, believing that cultivators ought to possess nobler character than ordinary people.

Even so, Shen Xi had never been as audacious—or as maliciously suspicious—as Xie Chang’an.

At least, when he had possessed only her level of cultivation experience, it had never occurred to him to think in that direction.

A spiritual barrier surrounded their conversation, but a thought suddenly arose in Shen Xi’s mind: When they spoke of the Heavenly Dao, could they be drawing its attention?

A moment later, he decided that he must have been bewitched by Xie Chang’an.

“Senior Brother Shen, to us, the Upper Realm represents the Heavenly Dao. It is like the imperial court in the mortal world—lofty, supreme, and beyond reach. All the people place their hopes in it, and entering the court as an official is the lifelong dream of every scholar.”

“But I was raised in the palace. I saw with my own eyes how it truly operated.”

“The imperial court is made up of people. And people have emotions and desires. Some seek profit, others seek fame. The words ‘imperial court’ may sound imposing, but in truth they are merely the convergence of countless human hearts. Within those hearts are the emperor’s private desires and the private desires of every official beneath him, pulling in a hundred directions, entangled and divided. The court can wrong the innocent, and it can withhold relief funds and provisions from victims of disaster—just as it did in the death of Gao Xianzhi, and in the defeat of Geshu Han.”

The night in the City of Departing Dreams seemed unusually long. The young woman’s face was half-hidden in the shifting shadows of the red candles, one half a delicate beauty, the other obscure and unreadable. As she spoke in her soft, unhurried voice, there was something almost eerily seductive about her.

Shen Xi had never been one to pay attention to other people’s looks. Yet now, quite inappropriately, his mind began to wander.

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A multitude of faces drifted through his mind—men and women, familiar faces and those encountered only by chance—but it seemed that none could compare with the young woman before him.

Since entering Crimson Frost Mountain, Xie Chang’an had grown increasingly striking with age and with the progress of her cultivation.

In the world of cultivation, however, strength reigned supreme. No matter how beautiful someone was, without power they could easily become a plaything or a cultivation furnace. She had also spent much of her time in secluded meditation and rarely appeared in public, so few had noticed such impossible beauty.

“What about the Upper Realm?”

The question reached his ears, and Shen Xi unconsciously straightened.

The groundwork Xie Chang’an had laid was undeniably effective. One bizarre and outlandish thought after another flashed through his mind, forming before his eyes an ever more absurd chaos.

“Do not—”

His mouth was dry. He wanted to deny it, to rebuke her and accuse her of spreading heresy, yet for some reason the words would not come.

He actually wanted to hear what she would say next.

“If good and evil receive no recompense, then Heaven and Earth must be partial. But what if Heaven and Earth truly are partial?”

The young woman’s meaningful expression coincided with a peal of thunder. It crashed not only above the City of Departing Dreams, but also against Shen Xi’s heart.

He started violently and could not help turning his head to look outside.

After the thunder came a torrent of rain.

The flagstones were quickly washed clean. Rain pattered incessantly, and water streamed from the eaves in curtains.

The barrier had not been broken. It did not resemble heavenly thunder, but rather an ordinary summer storm.

Relief passed over Shen Xi’s face, only to be replaced by cold sternness as he admonished her solemnly.

“Junior Sister Xie, mind your words!”

Xie Chang’an composed her expression and lowered her head to drink her tea, as though she had said nothing at all.

Their conversation ended without resolution.

As evening approached, the two went their separate ways.

Yet though Shen Xi had warned Xie Chang’an to mind her words, her speech kept him tossing and turning that night, unable to sleep.

What if Heaven and Earth truly were partial?

He awoke from a shallow sleep with a start, his heart sounding like thunder. For a long while, he sat there in stunned silence.

The instigator, Xie Chang’an, by contrast, slept soundly through the night.

She had arranged to meet Zhu Xuanguang at the Hour of the Rooster. After rising, she meditated first and then ate. Once noon had passed and the sun was no longer so fierce, she slowly made her way toward the outskirts of the city.

After the previous night’s rain, the vegetation appeared even more vivid. Blossoming branches, unable to bear the weight of the water, drooped beneath it, and many small flowers had been scattered upon the ground. Pink and white petals stretched into a lively spring path.

This little town grew busier after nightfall. By day, it was sparse and quiet, with few shops even open.

As a result, the fallen blossoms were not trampled beneath people’s feet. They drifted lazily onto the passing young woman instead, tinting the white jade hairpin atop her head with a touch of pink.

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Walk eastward and one would eventually see Hundred-Foot Pavilion. Along the way, there were also vendors selling lanterns. When Xie Chang’an asked, she learned that the Mid-Autumn Festival was only a few days away, and that the local people had a custom of releasing lanterns to pray for blessings.

Although the town lay in the outer city of the City of Departing Dreams and was inhabited mostly by cultivators, cultivators and mortals still gazed upon the same full moon. Their greater power did not exempt them from worldly customs, and they celebrated the festivals all the same.

“Miss, why not buy a lantern? Even if you do not wish to pray for blessings, it will still look beautiful at night.”

Seeing her pause, the lantern seller hurried to promote his wares.

“I make all these lanterns by hand, and they are different from those sold elsewhere. Once lit, they give off a fragrance, and the picture on the silk covering moves.”

Xie Chang’an genuinely grew interested. “How does it move?”

“Just watch!”

The lantern seller was clearly accustomed to demonstrating his wares. At once, he took a used lantern from behind him and lit it again. Painted upon the silk was a cluster of lotus leaves floating on water. As the candle flame kindled, specks of golden light flowed outward from within. The lotus leaves and ripples began to sway gently, moving without any wind, while the flower bud nestled among them slowly blossomed.

Xie Chang’an understood. “You used spiritual energy in this lantern?”

The seller smiled. “Exactly. There is a talisman buried beneath the base. It is only a little trick, nothing worth mentioning—just something novel.”

It was indeed novel. The mortal world had no lanterns that could seem to come alive, so these cost several times as much as ordinary river lanterns. Buyers had to pay not only with mortal currency, but also with items of value to cultivators.

Xie Chang’an did not haggle. She simply exchanged three blank talismans for three lanterns. The seller was overjoyed and even gave her an additional peach blossom covered in beads of water.

As dusk deepened, people had already begun releasing lanterns along the river.

Most were ordinary river lanterns, but there were also lanterns like the ones Xie Chang’an had bought. They floated lightly above the water, drifting downstream in a blaze of radiance, like stars shattered from the heavens and scattered into the mortal world.

Red ribbons tied with cords hung sparsely from the trees on either bank. Written upon them were the wishes of those who had hung them there.

As Xie Chang’an passed, she glanced at a few. Mortals wished for sons and daughters, for a long life, while cultivators wished to advance swiftly and attain perfection. Yet who could say who would fulfill so many wishes?

If they were praying to the immortals of the Upper Realm, then who would fulfill the wishes of those immortals?

Xie Chang’an let her imagination wander. It did not prevent her from following local custom. She wrote a note, folded it, and placed it beneath the base of a lantern.

These lanterns, strengthened by talismans and infused with spiritual energy, were far more durable than ordinary ones. They could float along the river for several days and nights without becoming waterlogged and sinking. They might even drift all the way to the end and be picked up by someone else.

The first lantern was for Li Li. For the second, Xie Chang’an carefully placed inside a note bearing the words, “May Zheng Luniang leave suffering behind and find joy.” Then she lit the lantern and set it drifting with the current.

She wrote nothing on the last one. Carrying the lantern, she rose and continued forward at an unhurried pace.

Though Hundred-Foot Pavilion had been given that name, it was actually built upon a gentle slope. It stood only a few dozen steps from the nearest stretch of river, but it lay to the north of the mountain and south of the water, hidden beneath the shade of trees. Even by day, sunlight could not reach it, much less after nightfall. The yin energy there was heavy, and even cultivators disliked coming near. Mortals avoided it all the more. As a result, few people ever came there.

At that moment, Zhu Xuanguang stood inside the pavilion, a full stick of incense ahead of the appointed Hour of the Rooster.

He saw the river lanterns drifting along the water in the distance. On either bank, some people bent to release their lanterns, while others closed their eyes and made wishes. Clusters of warm light glowed like the earthly fires of mortal life, carrying the desires they longed for but could not attain.

Then he saw the young woman approaching slowly with a lantern in hand and a peach blossom in the other. As she walked, the flowers kept falling. A few stubborn blossoms clung to their branches, trembling faintly with every step she took.

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