Chapter 47: Memories of Bygone Years

Zhou Qian solemnly picked up the scattered flower petals from the ground, wrapped them carefully in his sleeve, and the three of them left Falling Moon Slope. Yet, above on the cliff, a slender figure stood—a face as alluring as a fox spirit, flawless features, and four fluffy tails swaying gently behind her.

With a graceful leap, the fox demon slid down from the high precipice, floating as if a celestial being. She gazed at the tombstone and sighed, saying, "Little Aunt, was it truly worth fleeing your home for a mere mortal? Was sacrificing yourself to save him worth it? Though we cannot compare to the cultivators of the human world, our lifespans still stretch thousands of years. We envy the lovers more than the immortals—are lovers truly happier than immortals?" The fox demon leaned softly against the tombstone, watching the trembling white flowers, lost in thought for a moment...

Upon returning to Taibai Pavilion, Zhou Qian and Zhang Fu bid farewell to Huang San. After a few brief words, Zhou Qian and Zhang Fu mounted their horses and departed, rushing along the road for several more days before finally arriving back in Luo Capital. As they entered, both could not help but marvel; the entire journey had taken three months. Longing to return home, they parted ways, and Zhou Qian hurried to his own estate.

A servant at the gate spotted Zhou Qian and his eyes lit up. He ran inside, shouting, "Third Young Master is back! Third Young Master has returned!"

Immediately, a flurry of footsteps echoed, and the steward Sun led the way, bowing deeply to Zhou Qian. "Third Young Master, you have truly saved the martial artists of Southern Wulin from peril. Without you, Southern Wulin would have suffered a great blow. Were it not for the covert protection of martial artists, even court officials and generals would not have escaped assassination. Your merit is great, and even the master is greatly pleased!"

"Steward Sun, you flatter me. It was merely a small matter that happened by chance," Zhou Qian replied shyly, rubbing his head, feeling he had not done much at all.

Steward Sun smiled and shook his head, revealing the truth to Zhou Qian. The real Song Ci had died on the way to Luo Capital; the fake Song Ci was actually the leader of the Red Lotus Sect, who used a bizarre secret technique to cover an elder’s body with human skin. This elder’s form and appearance were nearly identical to Song Ci, so even Zhou Xun had not noticed any flaw. The plan was a joint effort of the Red Lotus Sect, the Evil Valley, the Linked Fortress, Peacock Castle, and more than ten villainous factions. The fake Song Ci was the most crucial element. Once the Southern Wulin martial artists entered the Quarry, it would have been as perilous as entering a tiger's den. Yet, by chance, Zhou Qian exposed the deception, turning the tables. The righteous leaders—Zhou Xun, Tu Yong, Master Withered Leaf, and others—immediately countered the plot, inflicting heavy losses on the evil factions.

"But there is something rather strange," Steward Sun hesitated. "Second Young Master has disappeared!"

"What? What happened?" Zhou Qian’s heart sank and he asked urgently.

"After Second Young Master visited Spring Moon Pavilion, he vanished, along with the famous courtesan Liu Xiaoxiao. I secretly sent several groups to investigate but found no clue. Oddly, even if Second Young Master had eloped with Miss Liu, he should have left some message behind!" Steward Sun smiled bitterly.

'Would Second Brother elope with someone?' Zhou Qian pondered—it did fit his brother's character. He suppressed his worry and went to the study to pay respects to Zhou Xun.

"Master!"

"Come in, sit," Zhou Xun was drinking tea with a shabby Taoist. Zhou Qian paused; wasn’t this the same scruffy Taoist he had rescued from Jingxiang Pavilion? He had nearly forgotten the man, yet here he was, apparently familiar with his master.

"This is Senior Drunken," Zhou Xun said calmly. "Qian’er, come pay your respects."

"Greetings, Senior Drunken," Zhou Qian cupped his hands.

"Haha, no need for ceremony. It was you who helped me out, so logically, I should thank you," the old Taoist said with a smile.

"You are too kind, Senior," Zhou Qian replied.

Zhou Xun then asked Zhou Qian about his deeds in Shu, and soon sent him away, leaving Zhou Qian somewhat frustrated. But before he left, Zhou Xun said something that puzzled him.

"If you have nothing else, remember to seek advice from Drunken Taoist friend!"

"Meeting between master and disciple should be a joyful affair, why do you look so cold and indifferent?" Drunken Taoist asked.

"One learns from the kind of master one has. If you wish, why not take him as your disciple?" Zhou Xun said meaningfully.

"Haha, I am too fond of my freedom to teach a disciple!" Drunken Taoist replied with a smile.

"Then my little disciple truly has no fate," Zhou Xun’s eyes flashed with a hint of disappointment.

Zhou Qian returned to his own courtyard and saw Sister Zhao looking dazed and absent-minded. Ever since Zhou Qian had brought her remains back, she had been like this, which made Zhou Qian ache for her and miss his Second Brother even more.

"Sister Zhao, are you... alright?" Zhou Qian asked hesitantly.

"My brother and I were abandoned as babies, left in a small temple. Luckily, we were taken in and lived a few peaceful years. Alas, the war in Shu swept away our foster parents—they got caught up in the rebellion and died amid the chaos. My brother and I wandered, barely surviving outside the city of Tiandu. At that time, the city gates were closed; we kept struggling, but couldn’t hold on. My brother cut off his right arm and traded it for half a bun for me. The bun tasted so fragrant and delicious, but as I ate, I started to vomit, because I tasted the flavor of human flesh. Later, my brother died. I held his corpse, empty as a sack, and only then realized he had given all his food to me along the way. I hated my own weakness—I couldn’t protect him as he protected me..." Zhao murmured, resting her pale face on Zhou Qian’s shoulder, "Why! Why!"

Zhou Qian looked at her eyes, confused and pained, and felt a pang in his heart. He drew her close and spoke softly, "It will pass. Everything will pass. I am here, I am here!"

He gently carried the sleeping Zhao back to her room, covered her with a brocade quilt, and looked at her face. Zhao’s features were not stunning, not like the beauties Yin Ji or Wang Wei whom Zhou Qian had seen, but she always gave a sense of peace, something no one else could offer, especially to Zhou Qian—it was like the feeling in a dream...

Leaving his room, Zhou Qian sat cross-legged outside and began to cultivate the Grand Tuo Sutra.

The method of unity between martial arts and the Dao in the Grand Tuo Sutra was truly ingenious. It could bestow a mortal body with incredible powers, but the technique for condensing true energy within was rather basic: it simply absorbed the essence of the sun and moon through breathing exercises to slowly strengthen the power in the dantian. This was likely a secret only true Daoist cultivators possessed—the secret of mortals flying and traversing the earth.

With eyes closed and mind focused, Zhou Qian felt thirty-six thousand pores opening and closing, cool sensations seeping through his body...

Life seemed to return to calm. Aside from worrying about his missing Second Brother, Zhou Qian resumed his days of training, cooking, and facing visiting swordsmen. His swordsmanship grew ever more fluid and perfect; he had mastered the essential principles—a sign of achieving the pinnacle of human swordsmanship.

Seeing this, Zhou Xun passed on the Earth Sword. What is the Earth Sword? It is the sword of force—overwhelming others with sword momentum. Even before the blade is drawn, it unsettles the mind and spirit, and at its peak can slay spirits and demons. This includes Zhou Xun’s Nine Peaks of Mount Hua and the Broken Sword and Extinction Sword moves of Linghu Ye; only those with great spirit and vision can master it. As for the Sky Sword, it is a legendary realm in the martial world. It is said that apart from Zhou Qian, no one throughout history has reached it. Martial world experts speculate that stepping into this realm is to attain the state of immortality.

"This bamboo porridge tastes off," Old Hei frowned.

"What’s wrong with it? I followed Aunt Mapo’s recipe to the letter! If there’s a problem, it’s the recipe, not me!" Zhang Fu retorted, his brows furrowed. He had stayed up three days and nights to prepare the bamboo porridge, only to receive such criticism.

"It’s missing something. Jingxiang’s porridge always carries a faint aroma, but this is lacking," Old Hei smacked his lips and shook his head.

"Old Hei, have you not succeeded yet?" Zhou Qian entered the kitchen hall and asked.

"Of course!" Old Hei turned, feeling Zhou Qian’s gaze piercing, as if stabbing straight into his soul.

"Your eyes?" Old Hei was forced to turn away, puzzled, "Why do they seem murderous?"

"Oh," Zhou Qian closed his eyes, withdrew the aura he had been unconsciously projecting, and his gaze became normal again.

"I’ve made some progress in martial arts lately, sometimes I can’t control my internal energy," Zhou Qian explained. The Earth Sword technique first cultivates momentum—an elusive force formed by the interplay of blood, spirit, and will. Only those whose swordsmanship reaches a certain level can cultivate it. Zhou Qian could barely touch its edge, but couldn’t control it freely, let alone integrate it into his sword art.

"Very good, very good. Zhou, come taste this!" Zhang Fu beckoned. "Old Hei says our bamboo porridge can’t compare to Aunt Jingxiang’s; I think he’s just old and his taste buds are failing!"

Ignoring Old Hei’s grumbling, Zhou Qian scooped a spoonful of the icy, jade-like porridge and drank it. Instantly, his internal organs felt refreshed, as if he’d taken some elixir; even the wounds from sword practice tingled pleasantly, as if healing.

"This is a superb medicinal dish—there are sixty-seven kinds of rare herbs in it!" Zhang Fu explained.

"I’ve never tasted such delicious porridge!" Zhou Qian finished it in one gulp, clicking his tongue in admiration.

"Exactly! Old Hei says it’s still lacking, do you find anything missing?"

Zhou Qian shook his head; Zhang Fu was delighted and made a fist at Old Hei.

"Hmph!" Old Hei snorted. "If you want to insult me, I won’t stop you, but I worry you’ll drive Chef Yi to his grave!"

"Is Chef Yi’s illness very serious?" Zhou Qian asked urgently.