Chapter 32: A Past Like Smoke Part 1

The town was dilapidated, and the inn looked as though it might collapse at any moment. Fortunately, the night remained peaceful.

Feng Yun’ai took out a map and studied it for a few moments. After discerning the direction of Cloud City, she rolled it back up and tucked it into her sleeve.

She hadn’t originally intended to return to Cloud City—at least, not yet. However, the trip to the Listening Moon Sand River had unsettled her heart and disrupted her plans.

Should she go back?

If she didn’t, how would she ever uncover the truth?

Her thoughts drifted back to Feng Rong. Ever since leaving Cloud City, she found herself constantly thinking of her master and of Listening Goose Peak.

The Hantian Alliance sat at the foot of Listening Goose Peak, a mountain that pierced the heavens, towering so high it was unreachable. It was a place where the heights offered no warmth.

Before now, Feng Yun’ai had never descended that mountain. During her time above, she could only look down from the distance, catching glimpses of the city through the shifting mists.

But Listening Goose Peak was too high and the city too far. She could never see a single person. In that vast space between heaven and earth, it often felt as though only she and Feng Rong existed.

Feng Rong was a woman of few smiles. Her expression was always faint, as if she had been born without the capacity for joy or sorrow.

In Feng Yun’ai’s memory, the only things that held a close connection to Feng Rong were her and her sword.

When she was a child, she had asked Feng Rong what mountain they lived on and what the world was like at its base. She wondered if it was like the books described—full of endless entertainment in the marketplaces, where one could find not just clear water, but all the flavors of human life.

Feng Rong’s answer had been brief: The mountain was Listening Goose Peak. Below, people came and went. That was all.

After receiving that answer, Feng Yun’ai stopped longing for the world below.

It was only as she grew older that Feng Rong occasionally spoke of the Hantian Alliance. She would sometimes mention injustices that bothered her or the various tedious affairs of the alliance.

If things are so tedious, wouldn’t it be better if someone shared the burden?

Feng Yun’ai didn’t understand such things, but characters in books seemed to do exactly that. Following their example, she had asked the question aloud.

At the time, Feng Rong’s expression had shifted slightly. She replied coldly, “There is no need to share it, and you are not permitted to go down the mountain.”

Feng Yun’ai was never one to press a matter. If Feng Rong wouldn’t speak of it, she wouldn’t ask. She simply nodded slowly and went back to her sword practice.

In the beginning, Feng Rong had come up the mountain to teach her basic literacy and life skills. Later, that changed to teaching her the sword. Year after year, month after month, it was always the same.

She had no other entertainment. She had long since grown tired of the books in the pavilion. Aside from practicing the sword, she had nothing else to do. She practiced by day and she practiced by night.

When she wielded the blade, her heart and sword became one. She had no time to think of the world below. To seek peace of mind, her heart became even quieter.

Then came that day. Feng Rong had come up the mountain to supervise her practice as usual. Unexpectedly, the woman sitting beneath the green cypress tree suddenly clutched her chest, silent.

Finishing a form, Feng Yun’ai sheathed her sword and stepped forward. Before she could speak, she saw Feng Rong spit out a mouthful of blood.

Regardless of life or death, in all her years on the mountain, she had never seen another person fall ill or get injured.

Books spoke of birth, age, illness, and death, but she had never experienced them. How could she truly understand a dry line of text on a page?

She did not know joy, anger, or sorrow, for she had never learned them from Feng Rong. In fact…

Before that moment, she had never even seen Feng Rong frown.

Without death or emotion, they had lived day after day, year after year, as if they could remain unchanged forever on Listening Goose Peak.

But that vision of permanence was suddenly shattered.

Feng Yun’ai’s heart constricted. An indescribable emotion surged in her chest. She cast aside her sword and rushed forward, asking in shock, “Blood… why is there blood?”

Feng Rong’s collar was soaked in red. She had no time to speak, immediately sitting cross-legged to regulate her breath and inner qi.

But the more she tried to stabilize herself, the paler her face became. Her tightly pressed lips could not contain the blood surging up her throat. It bubbled from the corners of her mouth, leaving her breath shallow and weak.

Dazed and overwhelmed by a sudden chill, Feng Yun’ai hurriedly pressed her palm against Feng Rong’s back. Only then did she realize it was a reversal of blood and qi!

It was impossible. Only those who had Entered a Demonic State should suffer such a crisis.

She tried to channel her own inner qi to help, but Feng Rong’s internal power was so formidable that it refused to be guided. Instead, it violently repelled her, leaving her entire body numb from the shock.

Feng Rong raised her arm without a word, clearly signaling her to stop.

Seeing this, Feng Yun’ai had no other choice. She desperately wanted to find medicine, but her sleeve was caught. She froze, asking in a panic, “Master, how can I save you?”

Feng Rong’s expression changed into something she had never seen—a gritting of teeth, her gaze deep and cold, as if trying to pin her apprentice in place.

Her sleeve was held so tightly that Feng Yun’ai couldn’t move. She stared back and asked again, “What should I do?”

Feng Rong shook her head and resumed her meditation, but the aura around her body was growing thinner and thinner. It was as if…

As if her cultivation was draining away.

“Master, your inner qi—” Horrified and confused, Feng Yun’ai ignored the warning and pressed her palm against her master again.

This time, she wasn’t pushed away. It was because Feng Rong’s inner qi was truly vanishing!

This was wrong. No book had ever described such a bizarre injury. It should have been impossible.

Just as Feng Yun’ai tried to force the reversed blood and qi back into place, her output was blocked. She hurriedly tested several of Feng Rong’s meridians, but every single one was a dead end.

In the blink of an eye, all of Feng Rong’s meridians had been sealed. If this continued, she would lose her martial arts entirely, and her body would waste away.

“How can this be!” Feng Yun’ai felt as if she had fallen into an ice cellar. In her desperation, she tried once more, only for the attempt to make Feng Rong vomit more blood. “I’m going down the mountain. I’ll find someone to save you!”

“No.” Feng Rong pulled her hand back and stumbled to her feet. She began to walk slowly toward a distant wooden hut, every step looking like a struggle for survival.