Chapter 13

A month later, Luo Jiao stood in the deepening spring of the mountain wilds.

Staring at the bustling crowd before her, she gravely tightened the bundle on her back.

The truth was, a month ago, Luo Jiao had been as confident as confident could be about the matter of joining Fengyi Sect and finding Ye Qingzhou.

Her plan was crystal clear. First, she’d distinguish herself in the entrance examination, earning others’ envy and her Junior Sister’s newfound regard. Then, during the sect-division assessment, she’d leverage her years of travel and her consummate swordsmanship to become the First Disciple of the Inner Sect.

Then, beneath the flowers and before the moon, with sword of tender feeling, she’d pierce through that last veil of gauze for Ye Qingzhou—

Come on, the Sword Granny of the Unending Sword storming the newbie village—how easy could it get?!

By then, she’d hold the reigning Eldest Princess’s Golden Leaf Token in her left hand and the Grand Elder of Fengyi Sect’s hand in her right—free to enter the court or roam the jianghu at will. Wasn’t that the very definition of a carefree life?

Luo Jiao psyched herself up in her heart.

But all that resolve evaporated the instant she opened a book.

—She got dizzy reading words.

The affliction was probably congenital; she’d had it in her last life too. But at least in her last life she’d been born with the Innate Sword Bone, exceptionally gifted in the sword, and the Daoist of Sanqing had been one to teach according to the student—so the Luo Jiao of her previous life had never been much troubled by it.

But Fengyi Sect cared far too much for its students’ all-around education. Internally there were the Inner Canon and Spiritual Pivot; externally there were Jiaxing and Shenyun; and from astronomy to geography, all told, more than twenty thick volumes stacked on the floor, taller than a bed.

Every time she opened a book, within the space of one incense stick’s burning, Luo Jiao was guaranteed to be sound asleep.

If this went on, she might not even pass the first gate.

At last Luo Jiao understood why Fengyi Wonderland opened only once every two years, why nearly a thousand people tried their luck each time—and yet only some twenty were admitted.

Because hardly anyone could stomach the studying!

“Hey—are you going or not?”

Lost in her lament, Luo Jiao suddenly felt her shoulder roughly knocked. “Move if you’re going, leave if you’re scared—don’t just stand there blocking the way!” The one who’d bumped her had a pair of large eyes, a delicate oval face, two braids hanging over her shoulders, and a pale-gold gauze skirt trimmed with tassels.

On looks alone, she was every inch the wealthy young miss.

Before Luo Jiao could reply, the young miss shot her an irritated glare and strode off.

…Whatever, Luo Jiao thought.

Only then did she start walking. One step at a time, she thought. If I don’t pass, worst case I pack up and go home!

The line before Fengyi Gate stretched out of sight.

Once every two years, in the fragrant days of April, the Fengyi Sect’s Illusion Realm opened wide.

So it was that on the Qingshui River, an old woman ferried suitable, gifted applicants by boat toward the middle of the lake. They boarded small skiffs that seemed to sail toward the Peach Blossom Spring, drifting with the current—and moments later, beheld a landscape of sudden light beyond the shadows.

Only at such times could the world glimpse Fengyi Sect’s true face; and so at the foot of the mountain, besides the applicants, there were plenty of onlookers who’d come for the spectacle.

“There’s never a Qingshui River here on ordinary days! Who knows how those immortals manage it—can they really conjure mountains and rivers out of thin air?”

“I hear it’s nothing but an Illusion Realm. A mere Illusion Technique.”

“Don’t talk nonsense with your eyes open! Look how clear the water is—fish leaping, light shimmering. How could that be fake?” As this person spoke, she reached her hand toward the river as if to scoop up a handful.

“See this—” cupping the water in her palm, she had barely finished speaking when she felt a scalding sting. “Ssss…”

She was about to shake her hand when the water in her palm congealed into a crystalline, glasslike sphere, rising slowly, as if to merge with the light of the sky; when it floated high, it scattered through the air like fireflies, leaving only motes of golden light!

The woman stared blankly upward, mouth agape. A crowd gathered around her, all marveling at this conjurer’s trick.

But Luo Jiao knew—it was not only the riverside; even the fragrant grass on the banks, the peach grove and mountain wilds they stood in—

From the very first step into this place, Ye Qingzhou’s Illusion Realm had already begun.

The long line finally reached Luo Jiao.

The old woman in charge of the ferry had a head of silver-white hair and a gentle, kindly smile.

“Little lass, what’s your name?” she asked.

Luo Jiao sniffled and said nervously, “L-Little Jiao. Just call me Little Jiao.”

“Jiao of scorched earth? Jiao of the banana plant? Jiao of the pampered darling?” the old woman asked, brush raised.

Luo Jiao said, “Jiao of the banana plant.”

“One wutong leaf, one note of autumn; one banana plant, one thread of sorrow. The banana leaf stays furled, like the lilac’s knot.” The old woman studied her and smiled. “So young, yet with a touch of the old soul about you, hm?”

Luo Jiao smiled awkwardly. “Not really. Mother always told me not to overthink, or I’d go bald.”

The old woman laughed heartily, then asked, “Age?”

Luo Jiao, centenarian, shamelessly lied. “Fourteen.”

The old woman felt her hand and nodded.

“Little lass, where do you come from?”

“Mount Sanqing.”

“And where is home?”

Luo Jiao hesitated, then said, “Mo Fishing Village. Right beside Mount Zou’ao…”

The old woman wrote as she repeated mildly, “Mo Fishing Village…”

Having recorded the register, the old woman handed her a small pendant bearing a single character: Jiao. It sat neatly in her palm, small and charming.

“Thanks, Momo!” Luo Jiao waved in thanks and instinctively moved toward an empty boat—only to be pulled firmly back by the old woman.

Luo Jiao turned back, puzzled, and saw the old woman, with perfect composure, pointing her toward a boat farther ahead. “Go there.”

Each skiff held four—but that boat was already full.

Luo Jiao blinked, and before she could ask, saw that one flat-haired man aboard had vanished into thin air!

Luo Jiao’s eyes went wide and she gasped. “H-h-him—where’d he go?!”

“He lied about his age. Fengyi Sect only accepts those under sixteen,” the old woman said mildly. “That man was clearly past twenty, yet claimed sixteen. Letting him taste the cold water at the bottom of the river seems a fitting punishment.”

Luo Jiao swallowed hard. Is this… is this a hint about something…

The next instant, the old woman was cheerfully pushing her forward. “Off you go. Say hello to the other three on the boat.”

Cold sweat broke out all over Luo Jiao. Say hello?? Like last words, you mean??

But the old woman behind her was astonishingly strong, and Luo Jiao could not break free!

With a grave face, Luo Jiao was pushed onto the skiff. Cradling the worry that she might be plucked to the riverbed at any moment, she clung to the gunwale and watched the boat leave the shore, staring back at the smiling old woman with naked terror in her eyes.

Then a clear, mocking laugh sounded in her ear. “Hahaha, you are SO lame!”

Luo Jiao turned, about to retort—and found the person facing her was precisely the wealthy young miss who’d knocked her for blocking the way!

The young miss toyed with her two braids and said teasingly, “Looks like you’re just some fisher-village nobody with no connections. Call me ‘great-aunt’ and I’ll look after you!”

Luo Jiao looked up. “What’s your name?”

The young miss said, “Say ‘great-aunt’ first and then we’ll talk!”

Luo Jiao rolled her eyes.

The young miss gave a “hmph” and turned away to chat with another long-haired girl in the boat.

Besides the three of them, there was also a young boy leaning against the boat’s edge with his eyes closed, never once joining the conversation.

Luo Jiao, too, clung to the gunwale and gazed out over the water.

Fortunately, Xu Liangdi really had been but fourteen years of age—so what befell the age-faking man did not befall Luo Jiao.

When they reached the far shore safely, the rest gathered in scattered clusters, and Luo Jiao was startled to find that one crossing alone had whittled the bustling crowd down to fewer than eighty.

Luo Jiao narrowed her eyes.

She saw the old woman who had managed the crossing now emerging from the unremarkable tree line at the bank.

Leaning on a tree, she coughed softly, twice.

Everyone on the shore turned toward the sound.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” The old woman smiled and nodded to them. Her voice was slow, yet carried an unhurried, unassailable dignity. “You are all those who passed the basic examination. Next…”

The old woman waved her sleeve, pointing to a tall, long flight of stone steps not far ahead.

“Cross the stone steps, and you reach the front gate of Fengyi Sect,” the old woman said.

“In one shichen, the mountain gate closes. Everyone, please—”

Someone cut her off. “—So we just need to cross the steps within one shichen?”

It was a young boy, with two thick black brows and a face full of scorn.

The old woman raised her brows, stepped back a few paces, and nodded. “Yes. There are three thousand of these steps…”

She was interrupted again.

The boy picked at his ear with his little finger, putting on the air of a street loafer. “Fengyi Sect, a great sect—and the once-every-two-years entrance exam, and they send only an old woman who can barely string a sentence together to receive us? Never mind the Sect Master—not even one Elder deigns to come?…”

As he spoke, the boy shoved the old woman aside and charged up the steps first, shouting back at the others, “There’s a ranking to this thing, no? Hurry up and follow, or all your effort so far goes to waste—”

As if his words were a signal, everyone raised their pace in unison and stopped paying the old woman any mind.

Perhaps they felt that, the crossing done, the old woman had served her purpose.

Luo Jiao stood in the crowd, watching them surge forward in a noisy rush, terrified of falling behind.

Against the tide of people, the old woman jostled this way and that, clearly struggling to stay upright. Still, she turned and started toward the steps as well.

Luo Jiao steadied her. “Momo, are you going up the steps too?”

The old woman was taken aback, then lifted a smiling face. “Yes. To clean up after the young ones.”

“What young ones?” Luo Jiao put on a coquettish pout befitting a girl of fourteen, and said indignantly, “If I were you, I’d make that rude brat face-plant the moment he took his first step!”

The old woman laughed. “I have no such skill!”

“You do!” Luo Jiao frowned and said earnestly, “I saw you appear from that tree line just like that! You didn’t even need the ferry—”

“Haha.” The old woman cut her off, patting her shoulder. “Little lass, stop chattering with an old crone like me. Go on, hurry…”

But the words had barely left her mouth when there came a thunderous crash!!

Luo Jiao looked toward the sound—and saw the stone steps ahead beginning to collapse, from the bottom up!!

In moments, like a falling meteor, the Three Thousand Stone Steps disintegrated.

Screams rose everywhere. Young girls and boys plummeted; a few luckier ones clung to the edges and hauled themselves back up.

—The next instant.

Everyone who had been screaming from their fall suddenly went silent.

As if swallowed by an unseen beast, their life-signs vanished in a blink.

Of the hundred-odd people, barely a scattered dozen remained!

Luo Jiao stood frozen.

Then a cold laugh sounded behind her—crystal-clear, unmistakably a young woman’s voice. “Blame that brat for interrupting—I hadn’t finished my warnings. Miss Little Jiao, seeing as you have some conscience, I’ll give you a few more pointers…”

Luo Jiao whipped around—the old woman’s figure was already gone!

The old woman’s form blurred and faded; only her voice remained clear. “Walk quietly, walk slowly. Some truths cannot be rushed.”

Half a shichen later.

Following the “old woman’s” pointers, Luo Jiao passed smoothly into Fengyi Sect. At her side walked a braided girl ashen as death.

—the self-styled “great-aunt,” face drained white, now followed close behind Luo Jiao, step for step.

The moment they entered Fengyi Sect, the young miss’s legs gave out and she dropped to her knees. “They—they…” she mumbled, “are they all… dead? Right in front of me… I…” Then suddenly she raised her head, faced the empty gate hall, and screamed with fury in her eyes, “Who set this first trial?! WHO?! Let me meet her and I’ll—I’ll… flay—”

“Sister Lin… don’t…” someone consoled her.

Luo Jiao stood beside her, unmoving.

Because she heard a crisp little chime.

—Ting-a-ling.

Like bells colliding, or perhaps only the wind. Faint—Luo Jiao couldn’t be sure.

She looked up instinctively, and saw only a woman in white robes, white hair, and white Eye Veil, her figure emerging from the deep dusk.

She came forward gracefully, lotuses blooming beneath her every step.

Then, toward the direction of the “wealthy young miss,” she asked, flatly:

“It was I who set it. What will you do?”

The old woman wasn’t Ye Qingzhou, hh—don’t mistake her. The one who shows up later with the ding-ding-ding is Little Zhou. (Our female lead enters with her own BGM.)

[Note] “One wutong leaf, one note of autumn; one banana plant, one thread of sorrow”—[Yuan] Xu Zaisi, “Water Immortal”; “The banana leaf stays furled, like the lilac’s knot”—[Song] He Zhu, “Stone Preface Slow.”