Chapter Thirteen: Yunqing Sect
Bai Qiu tossed the Demon-Subduing Staff into his Universe Pouch and immediately said, “Little Seven, though we met by chance, we’re about the same age, with similar temperaments—and the same… ah, tastes. Traveling together, we’re bound to encounter both wonders and dangers.”
He continued, “Take this Buddhist weapon, for example. Neither of us can use it, so we’ll sell it and split the proceeds, or perhaps exchange it for a suitable magical item if opportunity arises. If fortune smiles upon us and we find something that suits us individually, then whoever it fits best shall claim it. We both act as our hearts dictate; I don’t mind much, but I wanted to say this lest it harm our friendship. If you object, I’ll give you the staff, and we’ll part ways here. Everyone has their own path—it's up to you.”
Shi Qi responded without hesitation, “I still owe you ten bowls of spring noodles, and you’re talking nonsense already.”
The two locked eyes and burst into hearty laughter.
The three of them stepped outside the cave.
None noticed that, in a corner of the cave, a sudden flash of blue light had appeared and vanished, as if it had never left.
Wang Feng bowed to the pair. “Brother Shi, Junior, you two continue your journey. I have duties to fulfill and must take my leave.”
Bai Qiu asked, “Do you need help, Senior?”
Wang Feng waved him off. “Just a small matter, no need. I’ll finish quickly and return to the Bai Xiaosheng Main Hall.”
Bai Qiu said, “Safe travels, Senior.”
Shi Qi added, “Safe journey, Daoist Wang.”
They bowed, and Wang Feng summoned his flying sword, stepping upon it and departing.
Bai Qiu said, “Come on, let’s find some fun in Yunzhou.”
The two rode the Wind Arts, gliding slowly toward Yunzhou.
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Inside Yunzhou City
Young monk Yuanwu arrived at the “Cloud Guest Inn,” seeking alms. Though his cultivation had reached the Golden Core stage, and he could have long since forsaken food, his master had deliberately suppressed his abilities, requiring him to wander the world and experience hardship—including eating.
“Amitabha.”
Yuanwu saluted the innkeeper with a Buddhist gesture, then said, “This humble monk is passing through. Please, could you spare a few steamed buns, some vegetarian dishes, and a small woodshed room?”
He took a few copper coins from his bundle and handed them to the proprietor.
“Please come in, Master,” said the innkeeper, returning the gesture. “Xiao Li, find the Master a table, bring extra vegetarian dishes, and prepare a room.”
Unlike the reputation some give innkeepers—greedy, short-sighted, and disdainful of monks—this one had run his restaurant for many years and knew how to read people. He respected Buddhist virtue, seeing kindness as a way to accumulate merit for himself, and so treated members of the order with courtesy.
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“A plate of side dishes, a few buns, and a woodshed room will suffice. No need to trouble you.”
“No trouble at all, no trouble.”
With that, the attendant led Yuanwu to a small table.
“Please wait, Master.”
“Amitabha, thank you.”
Yuanwu sat, his expression calm, but his thoughts lingered on his master.
“My master’s Buddhist arts are profound—an expert of the Nascent Soul stage—and yet he was ensnared here. Before leaving, he seemed to know what he was facing. Alas, my own cultivation is too shallow to aid him, leading to this outcome.”
Just then, the inn door opened, and a pair of young men and women entered. The youth, about twenty, wore azure robes with a long sword on his back; the girl, seventeen or eighteen, wore pink, also carrying a sword.
Both were clearly disciples from a major sect, their bearing distinctly immortal.
They sat at the table beside Yuanwu.
“Waiter, a pot of clear tea,” the young man ordered.
“Right away, please wait,” replied the attendant.
The girl whispered to him, “Senior Brother Sun, we’ve already forsaken food—why are we in an inn?”
He replied, “Junior Sister Ling’er, our Senior Brother and Junior Brother Li disappeared near Yunzhou City. Our sect’s training task is done, but they’re missing. We must search for news here—inns are the best places for information. We’ll keep our ears open for word of our brothers.”
Ling’er nodded.
The two were young disciples of the Cloud Purity Sect. The man was Sun Fanbai, second disciple of Sect Leader Jinghong. The girl was Shen Ling’er, a disciple of the Purple Forest branch.
Not long ago, the two, along with Senior Brother Bo Yunxin and Junior Brother Li Zhen, had accepted a sect training mission, descending the mountain to practice.
Their task was to slay a serpent demon disturbing the people north of Yunzhou.
All four were Golden Core cultivators, with Bo Yunxin, the senior brother, at the Golden Core pinnacle—ranked sixth among the top ten young experts.
They found the serpent demon in the northern valleys and slew it easily.
Bo Yunxin then claimed urgent business in Yunzhou and asked the others to return to the sect with the serpent’s inner core.
Li Zhen, honest and kind, feared the senior brother had trouble he couldn’t speak of, so he secretly followed him at night.
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Sun Fanbai and Shen Ling’er worried for their safety and followed as well, but Shen’s cultivation was weaker, and they could not catch up to Bo Yunxin and Li Zhen.
Upon arriving in Yunzhou, they tried secret sect methods to contact the missing brothers, but failed. Sun Fanbai, fearing disaster, sent a flying sword message back to Cloud Purity Sect, then brought Shen Ling’er to the city to search, finally arriving at this inn.
Shen Ling’er said, “Do you think Senior Brother is in trouble?”
Sun Fanbai replied, “He’s powerful—even if he faces a Nascent Soul expert, he can retreat safely. He must have urgent matters and couldn’t respond.”
“Let’s hope so,” Shen Ling’er said.
Just then, two burly men entered, clad in black, each carrying a broadsword. They strode straight to the proprietor and barked, “Two pounds of beef, two jugs of good wine—quickly! We’re pressed for time!”
Scanning the room and finding no free tables, they marched up to Yuanwu.
One slapped the table and growled, “Monk, clear out for us!”
Yuanwu ignored him, picked up his bundle, shouldered it, and rose to leave.
“Wait, Master!”
A clear, feminine voice called out—it was Shen Ling’er from the next table.
“Master, why not join us at our table?” she offered.
Yuanwu folded his hands, bowed, and said, “Thank you, benefactor, but there’s no need.”
Shen Ling’er said, “Monks are kind and compassionate. Our master taught us to treat them with kindness. Come, Master, we’re only sharing tea, you won’t disturb our meal—unlike some people, who, though fellow cultivators, are rude and overbearing!”
She cast a glance at the two black-clad men.
One slammed the table and roared, “Who are you calling out, girl?”
Shen Ling’er smiled faintly. “You know perfectly well.”
“You!” The man, shamed and furious, gripped his sword, about to draw it, only to find it unmoving.
At another table, Sun Fanbai smiled, his hand forming a mudra beneath the surface.
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