Chapter 324: Q&A

Inexplicably, no one was guarding the great Buddha’s lamp within the tower. Gu Fengnian wasted no time pondering this mystery. At the foot of the stairs, beside a small niche, he found several fire starters. Lighting one, he moved like a fish gliding backward through water, drifting along the corridor in reverse. As his figure passed, one by one, the long-life lamps flared to life. The ground floor brightened as if bathed in daylight. Gu Fengnian hurried up the stairs, lit another fire starter, and continued his backward glide—only to maintain the flame amidst his swift movements. Whether by intent or accident, his mind remained as clear and pure as a lotus pond. After completing another round, he ascended once more to the third and fourth floors.

The demonic empress Luo Yang, the chief instigator, bore no sense of guilt. She watched coldly from the sidelines. No longer the gentle beauty Huang Baozhuang of the lyrical tune “Shan Jian Qing,” she no longer concealed her crimson and violet eyes, which overflowed with sinister intent.

Gu Fengnian lit 3,089 long-life lamps and paused, gazing upward at the seated Buddha. To man, all things are but ants; to Buddha, all beings are equal. People burn incense, kneel, and pray, clinging to the Buddha in times of need. Will their wishes truly be granted? Do the Bodhisattvas ever grow weary of such pleas?

Gu Fengnian withdrew his thoughts with a self-mocking smile. As he turned to descend the stairs, a shocking sight met his eyes. The white-robed demoness stood below, at the foot of the Buddha. She clenched her fist, and the flames of nearly four thousand long-life lamps were yanked from their blue porcelain bases by an invisible force. The flames soared toward the seated Buddha, halting just a few feet from its stone body. The statue, already coated in gold dust, gleamed brilliantly under the firelight, as if the true presence of the Buddha had descended. What a sight—the light of the Buddha shining upon all!

With a flick of her finger, Luo Yang sent the four thousand flames hurtling toward the pinnacle of the nine-story tower. They exploded near the Buddha’s head like a thousand falling stars. Gu Fengnian, inwardly furious, could only leap over the railing and soar through the air, sleeves flaring as he tried to catch as many sparks as he could. With wide sweeps of his sleeves, he hurled some of the flames back into the blue lamps. One by one, the long-life lamps reignited. But in the end, his strength was not enough. He managed to relight only seven or eight hundred lamps before landing. He returned to the niche, grabbed another fire starter, and looked toward the demoness. She stood with her back turned, gazing out the door. Only then did he feel safe enough to continue lighting the lamps. As the blue lamps flared back to life, Gu Fengnian exhaled in relief. Slowly descending the stairs, he came to stand beside Luo Yang. Without preamble, she said, “The Zhongs are experts in grave robbing. During the Spring and Autumn Wars, they plundered a bamboo slip from the tomb of King Qian of Nan Tang. It contained a centuries-old secret: eight hundred years ago, the immortal emperor of the great Qin dynasty was buried within the borders of Xhehe Province. Lu Gui was a master of geomancy, so the two families joined forces to unearth the tomb. I have no interest in the Qin emperor’s relics, but I despise Zhong Duhu. Whatever he seeks, I shall ensure he fails.”

Gu Fengnian frowned. “With your rank as the fourth strongest cultivator in the world, why not simply kill Zhong Duhu?”

Luo Yang’s tone was icy. “Is it that simple?”

Gu Fengnian had no reply. You, the greatest demon in the world, once roamed the eight provinces of the Northern Desert, killing indiscriminately, slaying thousands until you reached the imperial city, where you were finally halted by Tuoba Bashen. Your path was paved with corpses and rivers of blood. How could you now feign restraint? But Gu Fengnian kept these thoughts to himself. It was already enough of a struggle to face the blind lute master Xue Songguan. To cross swords with Luo Yang would mean certain death—ten lifetimes wouldn’t be enough. He dared not even think of her as a woman. When he first saw her at the Qijian Le Fu’s “Shan Jian Qing,” his exceptional memory etched her figure and form into his mind. But when he met her again in Dunhuang, her face seemed blurred. Not simply because of her imposing aura, which made her gender indistinct, but because something about her felt unnaturally unsettling. Perhaps it was because, for the first time in his life, he truly feared a woman.

Luo Yang said flatly, “I’ve been waiting for you here for two days.”

Gu Fengnian looked puzzled. After a pause, she asked, “Do you know where the tomb of the Qin emperor is buried?”

Gu Fengnian barely restrained a sarcastic retort and grinned instead. “If I did, I’d have already taken a shovel and dug it up.”

Luo Yang strode toward a tall scripture pavilion bearing the plaque “Rulai Rugui.” Gu Fengnian asked, “Why are there no monks from Leiming Temple in sight?”

Luo Yang replied casually, “Before you arrived, I was resting on the palm of the Buddha statue. I found their chanting and wooden fish annoying, so I killed them all.”

Gu Fengnian’s suppressed aura surged outward, the mirage of the Great Huangting swirling around his long robe. But alas, the saying holds true—no matter how high the Dao, the Demon is always higher. Under Luo Yang’s suppression, he not only retracted his aura but also felt a surge of blood rise to his throat.

At that moment, monks emerged from the Great Buddha Hall, their yellow robes slightly different from those of the Central Plains. Calm and composed, they regarded Gu Fengnian and Luo Yang as mere wealthy visitors. A few monks with lesser cultivation glanced curiously at the white-robed Luo Yang but showed no real interest. Gu Fengnian now realized that the demoness had been playing a trick on him, treating him like a monkey. He swallowed his blood with a wry smile. Luo Yang added insult to injury, “With such shallow roots and weak mind, how did you even reach the Realm of the Indestructible? I suspect it was only through the fortune of being the heir of Beiliang and the opportunities that came with it. You lack any true vision. A waste of Master Deng’s gift.”

Gu Fengnian did not argue, comforting himself with the excuse that “gentlemen don’t quarrel with women,” while secretly grumbling. Luo Yang, ever perceptive, sneered, “You’re probably comparing me to Li Chungan, thinking I’m just mocking you. But in truth, I entered the first three stages of the first realm— King Kong, Mystic Revelation, and Celestial Phenomena—before Li Chungan ever did. Even the The Realm of the Earthly Immortal holds no exception.”

Gu Fengnian muttered insincerely, “Right, right. You’re the strongest. Tomorrow you’ll send Tuoba Bashen running with his tail between his legs. The day after, you’ll make Wang Xianzhi into a turtle. On the third day, you’ll ascend to the heavens like it’s nothing.”

Then, he was flung into the scripture pavilion—by Luo Yang’s palm striking his back. His mirage shattered by seven or eight tenths. First, he dared not dodge; second, he wanted to gauge her strength. The pain was immense, known only to Gu Fengnian as he sat on the stone floor inside. Wiping away the blood at the corner of his mouth, he amused himself by forging a sword of resentment.

The capricious Luo Yang entered the pavilion but did not even glance at Gu Fengnian, instead proceeding directly to the upper floors. Though nominally a scripture pavilion, it was in fact a six-tiered tower of stone tablets. The wooden staircase spiraled upward. Luo Yang reached the top floor and gazed out at the Huanxi Spring. The tower walls were inscribed with poems by literati and scholars, but later additions had been carved without regard for order, rendering the inscriptions a jumbled mess. Gu Fengnian, bored, scanned the walls but found few poems of true elegance—mostly insipid drivel. Yet some fragments of minor songs and verses caught his attention, like “Spring wind greens the south of the river” and “On the old tree, a young oriole sings.” He memorized them all, planning to steal them later and present them to his second sister, the literary genius.

By chance, he spotted half a line of poetry still faintly visible. He wiped the dust from it with his palm.

Standing at the window, he slightly loosened his aura, his vision clearing as he began memorizing the layout of the Huanxi Spring estate. With the migration of southern refugees, a southern breeze had swept into the north. The architecture of the northern courts had inevitably absorbed the Spring and Autumn style. In the Northern Desert, not only the southern provinces but even the northern aristocracy had developed a taste for small bridges, flowing water, and deep courtyards. Their designs were not only refined but surpassed the southern style, capturing the essence of southern architecture without the awkwardness of imitation. Born into a noble house, Gu Fengnian had naturally absorbed such knowledge. The winding corridors of the Beiliang Prince’s Mansionhad once led to many amusing mishaps—assassins sneaking in at night often wandered the entire night without finding the residences of Xu Xiao or Gu Fengnian. When captured, they died with eyes wide in disbelief. These tales were often recounted by the Prince’s Mansionservants with great delight. After his two journeys, however, Gu Fengnian had stopped laughing so easily.

He recalled one time when Wen Hua dragged him to spy on a noblewoman he had fallen for at first sight. Wen Hua stood on tiptoe outside the high walls, listening to the lady’s laughter from within. Eventually, he had Gu Fengnian crouch so he could stand on his shoulders to catch a glimpse. When the guards noticed, they chased the two with clubs, leaving Gu Fengnian sore and aching. Worse still, Wen Hua’s declarations of love were never lasting—each new beauty led to a fresh infatuation. On their travels, Wen Hua had “fallen in love” countless times. Gu Fengnian, exasperated, later mocked him, saying that even if he had sneaked into a house, he wouldn’t have had the nerve to be a flower-snatching rogue.

Luo Yang pierced through the veil. “Who are you going to kill in the north of Huanxi Spring? He Lian Weiwu? Do you really think you can succeed? Or do you have an inside man from Beiliang?”

Gu Fengnian shook his head. “Just going to take a look.”

Luo Yang mocked, “If you’re spotted by Zhong Duhu, who ranks just below me, you’ll be lucky to survive with your skin intact.”

Gu Fengnian grinned foolishly. “No plans to cause trouble. Just low on cash. Maybe pick up a few valuables on the side.”

Luo Yang said calmly, “I’m going with you.”

Gu Fengnian immediately refused, “Absolutely not. I’m going to be a thief, not a killer.”

Luo Yang turned, smiling. “I won’t expose you. I’m just curious what a Beiliang prince could possibly be up to. Besides, you know well that I didn’t massacre innocents in Wuhou City, and I won’t do so in Huanxi Spring either. Stop pretending to be naive. If you think I’m a fool, wait until you reach the Celestial Phenomena Realmand can fight me to the death. But with your talent, reaching the Realm of The Resonance of Heaven and Earthseems unlikely.”

Gu Fengnian, exposed, no longer hid his thoughts and openly gazed at the sprawling estate of Huanxi Spring. Luo Yang suddenly said, “Let’s ask each other one question. We must answer truthfully. Agreed?”

Gu Fengnian considered. “Can I ask first?”

Luo Yang cut him off. “No. You’ve already asked, and I answered. Now it’s my turn.”

Gu Fengnian felt wronged. Luo Yang was nothing like the gentle Huang Baozhuang. She had never been kind, let alone understanding. Ignoring his frustration, she asked directly, “Why did you come to the Northern Desert? What do you truly seek?”

Gu Fengnian fell silent.

Luo Yang waited patiently.

Gu Fengnian rubbed his face, then, for the first time since coming north, he spoke his heart. “To see someone of utmost importance. Twenty years have passed, and even my father doesn’t know if he can still be trusted. To confirm this, only Xu Xiao and I—the hereditary prince of Beiliang—have the right to seek the truth. To meet him, I must do something that proves my worth in his eyes. Otherwise, even the title of prince means nothing. I won’t tell you more. Anyway, I know—if he truly betrays the Northern Desert and then Beiliang, this journey will end with my death here.”

Luo Yang nodded, satisfied with his honesty. “Your turn.”

Gu Fengnian hesitated. “Is Huang Baozhuang really dead?”

Luo Yang gave no answer. She skipped it and asked the next question coldly, “If you succeed in this gamble, will you be able to secure the throne of Beiliang?”

Gu Fengnian snapped, “Still no.”

Luo Yang sneered, “What a pitiful prince.”

Gu Fengnian didn’t take offense. “What are you going to do in the Baoping Province?”

Luo Yang tugged at her lips. “There is a fish in the northern sea. Tuoba Bashen has waited thirty years for a weapon. I intend to ruin his plans. At the very least, I’ll fight him.”

First, she dueled with Deng Ta’a. Then she thwarted the Zhongs. Now she was going after the Northern Desert’s military god. Was this woman never going to rest? Gu Fengnian was stunned, but soon calmed. If Luo Yang could be understood by ordinary means, she wouldn’t be the number one demon in the world.

Luo Yang asked a grim and ominous question, “If you die in the Northern Desert, shall I retrieve your corpse and return it to Beiliang?”

Gu Fengnian sighed. “Then I thank you in advance.”

Luo Yang suddenly smiled. “Actually, on the northern ice plains, if I die at Tuoba Bashen’s hands, you won’t escape either. Whoever dies last will retrieve the other.”

Gu Fengnian smiled bitterly. “Can’t you just avoid fighting Tuoba Bashen? You’re still young. Wait until you reach the The Realm of the Earthly Immortal. Then it’ll be safer.”

Luo Yang’s gaze was distant and unfocused, looking afar. “If it’s too certain, it becomes boring.”

Gu Fengnian murmured, “It’s only because I can’t beat you that I won’t say you’re being melodramatic.”

With a clever wordplay, Gu Fengnian soon found himself slammed into a wall. Landing, he dusted himself off and began to meditate, calming his aura. He dared not voice his anger.

Suddenly, Gu Fengnian grinned strangely and whispered, “I heard you once killed your way to the Northern Desert palace gates. The Murong empress stood atop the city walls, and you stood below. What was it like?”

Luo Yang seemed never to have pondered such a thing. As Gu Fengnian thought she would ignore it, she slowly uttered three words, “An old hag.”

Gu Fengnian was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter.

So even this demoness could be as cutting as her martial arts.

Would the Northern Desert empress die of rage upon hearing this?

As they descended the stairs, Gu Fengnian was still chuckling. Luo Yang asked, “What did you wipe off the wall earlier?”

Gu Fengnian paused. “Just something ominous. I’d rather not see it.”

Luo Yang had no patience. “Speak!”

Gu Fengnian smiled. “The geese have returned. The person has not gone south.”

Luo Yang left him with her back, softly saying, “Melodramatic.”