Chapter 14

White robes of a flowing immortal, hair of pine-snow, an Eye Veil wiping out all worldly dust.

Ye Qingzhou had hardly changed—her bearing, her dress, or that half-smile on her face.

—Still as clear and cold as at their first meeting on Mount Sanqing, brows and eyes like a painted portrait.

Like a lone wisp of rosy cloud, cold as jade; half-lit by the bright moon, glimmering with hidden light.

The instant Luo Jiao’s turn came, she’d thought she would be ecstatic.

In reality, she instinctively stepped back half a pace, shifting away from the “wealthy young miss” sprawled on the ground, weeping and wailing.

Ye Qingzhou’s gaze swept over the crowd, and Luo Jiao slipped out of it without a trace.

Ye Qingzhou’s expression stayed flat; she paid it no particular heed. Having asked her question and seen that the “young miss” dared not answer, she didn’t press, as though entirely indifferent.

Behind her stood the old woman who had guided the crossing.

“Little lass, I know your concerns.” The old woman’s formerly kind visage had changed; as she looked at the “young miss,” a gravity flashed through her eyes.

Yet within that gravity lingered a certain “careless disregard” unique to those long accustomed to standing above others.

And coldness.

The old woman said flatly, “And I can tell you very plainly: those who fell into the ravine were not truly swallowed by the Abyss. Just like that man who shared your boat and vanished in a blink—it was all the same. They were merely sent back by the Illusion Realm to wherever they were always meant to be.”

The young miss mumbled, “…Can they come back?”

The old woman said, “There are no more boats at the Qingshui River crossing.”

The young miss murmured, “It doesn’t matter, in two years there’ll still—”

The old woman shook her head. “They will have no more chances.”

“What do you mean?” The young miss’s head snapped up. “On what grounds? One single slip, and they’re barred from the mountain gate for life?”

The old woman suddenly lowered her head and stared straight at her, frowning as though baffled. “Is that not right?”

The young miss flared, “Do you have any idea… how much my friend sacrificed for this exam? Your books were so hard to memorize she recited from dawn to the fourth watch. Your Fengyi Sect demands arithmetic, mechanisms, medicine—she knew none of it, yet she studied diligently anyway. And over one insignificant slip, you strip her of the right to test again… Is that not too much?”

“An insignificant slip.” The old woman repeated the words, then snorted coldly. “Sometimes, an insignificant slip can cost you your life.”

The young miss’s fists clenched, her fury plainly burning higher.

“—Is that not tyranny?” she cried, her voice edged with a desperate willingness to fight to the death. “You should have told us all of this from the very start. When that man interrupted and insulted you, you should have punished him alone. Why—WHY should everyone else answer for his recklessness? It isn’t fair!” She rose to her feet, seething, radiating the air of one who’d defy all etiquette to stand up for a sister.

The old woman watched her in silence for a long while, eyes narrowed. But just as she was about to answer, a laugh utterly without warmth cut in.

Along with the laugh came a thread of Sword Qi.

In an instant, the wind went silent. Sunlight poured down, cold seeping through the clouds.

The Sword Qi swept past the crowd, straight at the young miss—then, at the last possible moment, grazed aside.

As the Qi retracted, half of the young miss’s braid fell like a deep-autumn red leaf.

Every head turned in unison toward the sword’s wielder.

Under all those watching eyes, Ye Qingzhou looked down, wiping her blade, not lifting her head.

“Actually, Lin Zhi.” She called the “wealthy young miss” by her real name, mildly. “I could just as easily bar you for life.”

Ye Qingzhou raised her hand, one sword flourish scattering cloud-shadows and skylight.

A simple flourish—and yet it pressed upon everyone like a mountain.

The “young miss” Lin Zhi knelt frozen where she was, speechless, scared witless.

Ye Qingzhou did not sheathe her sword. “I could even make it so that your whole life… ends right here.” She spoke unhurriedly. “Do you know why?”

Lin Zhi lifted her head, her doe eyes brimming with terror, tears nearly spilling.

At this moment everyone fell silent, mute as cicadas in winter.

The instant her eyes met Ye Qingzhou’s, Lin Zhi genuinely believed… her life would end here.

One word of displeasure, one stroke of the sword, death. What reputable sect’s examination spawned such things? Reported to Qingdu, it would be absurd enough to laugh one’s teeth off!

But Lin Zhi also understood—if it were anyone else, of course this could never happen.

But the person before her… was Ye Qingzhou.

Ye Qingzhou. The one who burned the scripture vaults of Mount Sanqing, who reviled her former fellow disciples; who, after entering Fengyi Sect, defied her superiors and attacked elders—Ye Qingzhou, ruthless in all such things, without exception!

Killing her, one minor rich girl—how hard could that be?

At this thought, Lin Zhi’s heart nearly died in her chest.

In Qingdu, she too had been a famous daughter of heaven—wealthy family, on close terms with imperial relatives and nobles; at eleven, discovered to have cultivation talent, her parents had treasured her, prided themselves on her.

So Lin Zhi had assumed that entering Fengyi Sect at thirteen and making a name for herself afterward was a matter of course.

But what was this, then?

Staring at the blade before her, Lin Zhi dared not breathe too deeply, fearing the next instant she’d be run clean through.

And Ye Qingzhou, sword raised, was plainly relentless. “Give me an answer, Eldest Miss Lin.”

Lin Zhi’s eyes brimmed with tears, but the moment she opened her mouth, it was as though she’d gone mute—not a sound.

—At that moment.

A hand yanked Lin Zhi up from the ground.

Luo Jiao pulled her to her side, bowed in salute. “Elder Ye.”

Then to the old woman, with deep respect: “Elder Tang Yi.”

Everyone’s hearts lurched: This is Tang Yi?!

The old woman, hearing this, raised her brows in surprise.

But in the end she did not accept the title.

Having finished the salutes, Luo Jiao continued, “Outside Fengyi Gate, Lin Zhi shouted and pressed aggressively—she was indeed in the wrong.”

“Only, the rules of the examination were never fully disclosed to us. If this was a test of temperament, then those who fell have already been punished. Yet to punish disciples who merely had questions about the rules on that account—there’s some unreason in that as well.”

“Elder Tang, since faults lie on both sides, why not each take a step back? Call it…” Luo Jiao paused, “leaving a net with an open mesh.”

The old woman blinked, as though intrigued. “Granted.” She smiled faintly. “As you wish.”

Luo Jiao then turned to face Ye Qingzhou, bowing once more, her bearing neither servile nor arrogant.

“As for the question you posed.” She said, “Of the thousand bonds in this world, in the end none escapes the single word ‘power.'”

“And above power lies either shared interest, or the constraint of absolute strength.”

Luo Jiao looked at Ye Qingzhou. “I wonder whether my answer finds favor with Elder Ye?”

Ye Qingzhou, hand on her sword hilt, let her gaze travel slowly—very slowly—across Luo Jiao’s face.

At last, she sheathed the Everlasting Sword.

Luo Jiao clearly felt Lin Zhi behind her give her hem a hard yank, unsteady on her feet—seeming ready to collapse on the spot, or perhaps flooded with the relief of one who’d survived calamity.

Ye Qingzhou narrowed her eyes and curled her crimson lips. Her laughter was hollow and cold.

“Well answered.” She said. “A pile of correct nonsense.”

“However…”

Ye Qingzhou lifted her chin slightly toward Luo Jiao, her expression careless. “I remember you.”

Then she spelled out those two words, one deliberate syllable at a time.

“Xiao. Jiao.”

“Con-grat-u-la-tions, you two!”

The moment Tang Yi and Ye Qingzhou were gone, nearly everyone swarmed around Luo Jiao and Lin Zhi. “You two are DEAD!”

“Those steps were obviously Ye Qingzhou’s handiwork. Anyone who’s heard anything of Fengyi Sect knows Ye Qingzhou lives at the very top of the sect, and between her dwelling and the mountain path stand ten thousand steps that block all Spiritual Energy fluctuations—identical principle to this exam, no?”

“Blocking all Spiritual Energy? Then how does she herself get back up?” they chattered like little sparrows.

“She walks. One step at a time.” “Absolutely unhinged!” “Unhinged maybe, but her sword aim is true! Even from a thousand li, when the Everlasting Sword comes out, gods block—gods die; Buddhas block—Buddhas die! Look at Eldest Miss Lin of Qingdu…”

Lin Zhi and Luo Jiao had defied the Elders, and the examination had taken an abrupt turn. Half a shichen later, someone came to announce the exam was suspended, and the new students were handed over to the Little Guides at the mountain gate.

The guiding attendants were not particular about anything. They simply said that having passed the gate, they were now students of Fengyi Sect: the gifted would enter the Inner Sect, the mediocre would become Outer Sect students, and the truly hopeless would be relegated to sweeping duty—but at the end of the day, still people of Fengyi Sect.

The attendants settled them in—a courtyard with rooms shared by pairs—and told them to gather again at the Shen Hour for a tour of Fengyi Sect’s layout.

When rooms were assigned, Lin Zhi clung to Luo Jiao, insisting on sharing hers. “I’m begging you!” Lin Zhi wailed. “Save a person all the way to the end—deliver the Buddha all the way to the western heaven!”

Remembering Lin Zhi’s “wealthy young miss” and “great-aunt” airs at the river crossing, Luo Jiao found it hilarious.

She teased, “Call me great-aunt first?”

To her surprise, Lin Zhi answered without hesitation, “Great-aunt! Forget great-aunt—I’ll call you great-great-granny if you like!”

Luo Jiao couldn’t hold back a laugh, letting Lin Zhi hang on her arm.

Then, from behind—from outside the room—a strange woman’s voice rang out. “Some people live, yet are already dead.”

Clear and lovely, laced with laughter.

Luo Jiao and Lin Zhi turned toward the sound, and saw outside a woman in pink leaning against the doorframe, her brimming smile striking Luo Jiao as somehow familiar.

But she really shouldn’t have known her.

Meeting Luo Jiao’s gaze, the woman in pink smiled and said, in a tone impossible to parse as praise or mockery, “Truly worthy of being the one my Elder Sister took a liking to.”

Luo Jiao asked instinctively, “Who’s your Elder Sister?”

The woman in pink didn’t answer, only asked, “Your name is Little Jiao?”

Luo Jiao nodded.

“Even if you really are called Little Jiao—once you reached Fengyi Sect, how did you dare to report your name truthfully?”

Luo Jiao, baffled: “What do you mean?”

The woman in pink said, “You do know what Ye Qingzhou’s Senior Sister was called, don’t you?”

Luo Jiao said, “Of course! Luo—”

Before she could finish, Lin Zhi slapped a hand over her mouth. “Don’t say it! I don’t want to die a second time!” Lin Zhi scurried ahead and faced the woman in pink, tears already welling, one step short of bursting into sobs. “Changyi, my good Changyi, is it really, really that serious?”

The woman in pink—Changyi—gave them a meaningful look, neither confirming nor denying, and only said, “Let’s go. You two are the last.”

With that she turned and walked off.

A quarter-hour past the Shen Hour, outside the new students’ courtyard.

The Little Guide led the dozen-odd new students, strolling leisurely back toward the mountain gate.

“First! The most important thing of all.” Stopping, the attendant climbed atop a tall boulder and cleared their throat, grave and earnest.

Everyone held their breath and listened.

“Fengyi Sect forbids private duels and forbids killing. It is truly a pure and peaceful land.”

“But even pure land has its taboo. As for who that is—no doubt you all know in your hearts.”

“Ye Qingzhou. Elder Ye,” the attendant said.

“And Elder Ye’s greatest taboo of all is her late Senior Sister. Luo Jiao.”

“I give you my absolute guarantee. In your decades at Fengyi Sect, so long as you never mention those two words, you will live long, peaceful lives.” The attendant spoke with iron conviction.

“And if you do mention them…” As they spoke, the attendant drew a hand across their neck with a little kkkk gesture. “You get me, right?”

Everyone fell silent, not daring to speak.

Only one solitary newcomer among them hesitantly raised a hand, and hesitantly asked.

“Why… why, though?”

The attendant shushed her, then turned back mysteriously and lowered their voice before the crowd. “Who knows what went wrong a hundred years ago—regardless, Elder Ye utterly loathes that Senior Sister.”

“Last time, someone mentioned this Luo-something-Jiao in front of an Elder, and Elder Ye split their skull with a Sword Qi. They’ve been simple ever since.”

As the words fell, nearly every eye turned to Luo Jiao.

And in the crowd, the woman in pink looked over too, her expression full of gleeful mockery.

Her lips shaped the words: Told you—your name sounds exactly like that Senior Sister’s. Ex-treme-ly dangerous.

Luo Jiao: …

She stood rooted to the spot as if struck by lightning.

What went wrong a hundred years ago?

She swore to the heavens—there really wasn’t anything wrong, aaaargh!

Luo Jiao of the Unending Sword, the Sword Immortal Luo Jiao, felt at this moment like a legend trampled flat—ready to cry, with nowhere to pour it out—

A hundred years ago we were Senior Sister and Junior Sister in perfect harmony, supporting one another… and a hundred years later, her Junior Sister—her Junior Sister says she HATES me!!

Luo Jiao: [sobbing kitten.jpg]