Chapter 371: Snowy Night

It was the depth of winter in the north. The ruined temple was covered with a thick layer of snow, and footsteps crunched loudly as people trudged through it.

A group of martial artists, men and women, old and young, strong and weak, carried their belongings and arrived at the temple. The leader shouted, “The snowy night makes travel difficult. Let’s rest here until dawn.”

A puff of white breath escaped his lips, betraying the bitter cold.

“Good. I’m no longer in my prime; my hands and feet are already numb from the cold,” an old bald man replied with a smile.

With his agreement, many others voiced their approval and divided into smaller groups, proceeding toward the temple steps.

“Halt,” the leader, a middle-aged man wearing a fur-lined cloak and a sword at his waist, said. “There’s firelight inside. I’ll go in first to check.”

The others immediately grew wary, gazing at the temple. Faint warm light glowed through the cracks of the tightly shut doors and windows.

The middle-aged man drew his sword and pushed open the temple door, peering inside. He let out a soft exclamation, “Strange, there’s no one here?”

He hesitated at the entrance, cautiously observing for a while before noticing Meng Qi curled between the fire and the altar.

Hair tied in a topknot, wearing a Daoist robe, with both sword and saber beside him. Though no breath was heard, a clear sign of life was palpable.

“Just a young Daoist asleep,” the man exhaled in relief. As long as it wasn’t an enemy, a dark sect expert, or a disciple of the Moonland Sect, he was fine. “Let’s be quiet and not disturb him. We’ll build another fire outside.”

One by one, they entered, closed the temple door against the cold wind, and lit a large fire in the center. They sat around it in clear groups, clearly a temporary alliance.

They remained silent, seemingly lost in thoughts, only melting snow and taking out dry rations to roast and eat.

Meng Qi ignored them and continued his practice of the first volume of the “Yijin Jing,” holding each of the thirteen postures for the duration of a cup of tea.

“Daddy, daddy, look, the little Daoist’s sleeping posture is so strange,” a girl of about ten, wearing a braided hairstyle, excitedly poked her father’s arm, drawing everyone’s attention toward Meng Qi.

Her father was the leader. He lightly coughed and replied, “Don’t gawk at others practicing; you might make enemies.”

“Practicing? Daddy, this is practicing?” the girl was lively and curious.

The leader glanced around seriously, “I’ve heard that the orthodox sects of the Xuanmen have unique guiding and breathing techniques, with postures different from ordinary people.”

“But we’ve seen disciples from orthodox sects like the Daode Temple before. None of them were this strange…” A young man with acne muttered.

The howling wind drowned out his words, shaking the windows and doors.

An old bald man coughed, “Master Wen is right. We’re strangers brought together by chance. We should not discuss the young Daoist. We have our own troubles to deal with on this snowy journey.”

At the word “journey,” the slightly relaxed atmosphere turned tense again.

Just then, someone knocked on the temple door.

Dong dong dong, dong dong dong. The sound echoed far into the snowy, cold night.

“Who is it?” Master Wen tightened his sword and called out. He hadn’t sensed anyone approaching earlier, and whoever could move silently in the snow must possess extraordinary lightness kung fu.

A woman in her twenties, wearing a plain white cotton coat and a cloak, emerged from the woods as Meng Qi finished a round of practice. Her footsteps were faint, leaving only shallow imprints quickly erased by snowfall. Beside her was an old man, tall and broad, wearing a green robe, hunched over, exuding protective qi. Meng Qi mentally “answered” their presence.

Within the state of the “Yijin Jing,” he felt a unity with nature, as if returning to the embryonic state. This heightened his senses, allowing him to perceive things as if he were there in person, even from twenty or thirty zhang away.

“A traveler lost in the snow,” a soft, southern-accented female voice replied from outside.

Master Wen smiled cautiously, “This is unclaimed land. Please, come in.”

He could now discern their proximity.

The temple door opened again, admitting two figures exactly as Meng Qi had “described.” The woman had a heart-shaped face and willow eyebrows, exuding a sharpness. She shook snow from her cloak, carrying a long sword bound with red rope, while the old man followed her inside.

Seeing them, Master Wen and the bald old man changed expressions, whether from fear or embarrassment, unclear.

The woman with the red rope and the hunchbacked old man didn’t light a fire but sat directly on the ground, glancing at Master Wen and the bald man. Their expressions shifted from confusion to realization, then to disdain, as if they had known each other before.

Yet none spoke, and a heavy silence filled the temple.

Another group approached, hiding their presence, moving stealthily… Meng Qi adjusted his posture.

In this state, he gained a subtle new perspective on his learned internal techniques, swordsmanship, and saber techniques, observing them from a higher vantage point.

Unconsciously, his qi flowed and changed, meridian paths subtly shifting. Meng Qi made slight adjustments based on this vague sensation but couldn’t fully articulate the changes, finding them ineffably profound.

“Desert Divine Camel, Lady Red Thread, where might you be heading?” Suddenly, a sinister voice echoed, indistinct in direction, making Master Wen and others unable to pinpoint its source.

The little girl with braids nearly burst into tears. Was it a ghost?

Lady Red Thread snorted coldly, “Pretending to be spirits. Dare you show yourself? I’m heading to Gathering Spirit Manor!”

“The old camel is also going to Gathering Spirit Manor,” Desert Divine Camel rumbled.

At the mention of “Gathering Spirit Manor,” Master Wen, the bald old man, and others darkened in expression, startled and fearful. Meng Qi stopped his “Yijin Jing” practice. Was this related to the “Gathering Spirit Manor”? Could it be that the Master of the Six Realms had deliberately chosen where to send him?

The sinister voice spoke again, “As I suspected. Tell me, what brings you to Gathering Spirit Manor?”

“Obviously to stop Miss Huangfu Fei’s marriage to your ‘Moonland Sect’!” Though a woman, Lady Red Thread spoke directly and fiercely.

“Marriage is a joyful occasion. Why stop it?” The sinister voice feigned surprise, its location still elusive, making the scalp crawl.

Lady Red Thread stood, hand on sword hilt, “Master Huangfu broke through previous limits, becoming the strongest in generations. Unfortunately, he went mad and retreated into the mountains before his time. His disciples and daughter are not yet accomplished. Your ‘Moonland Sect’ is taking advantage of orphans and widows, forcing a marriage to seize Gathering Spirit Manor. Where’s the joy in that?”

Unlike the long-established Nine Villages, Gathering Spirit Manor, founded by Huangfu Tao, lacked contemporaries of equal strength. His disciples were at most at the Nine Orifices level. If he had gone mad twenty years later, the foundation of Gathering Spirit Manor would have been firmly established. After all, sixty was still young for an Exteriors expert. Huangfu Tao himself believed this, marrying and having children only after forty.

“Master Huangfu passed away prematurely. Our ‘Moonland Sect’ wishes to help Lady Huangfu stabilize Gathering Spirit Manor. How is that taking advantage of orphans and widows?” The sinister voice unsurprisingly replied.

“Hmph, Lady Huangfu has a beloved suitor and has repeatedly refused. The whole world knows. Why did Lady Huangfu’s mother weep and kneel at the empty tomb, barely agreeing? Why was Master Huangfu’s third disciple, Young Master Xue, assassinated while seeking help?” Lady Red Thread was furious, her words sharp. “Master Xi Yue seeks the position of Heavenly King but lacks virtue!”

“Master Xi Yue” was renowned for his passion for antiques and was the current leader of the “Moonland Sect.” He had recently reached the Exteriors level a few years prior—in this world, where martial arts classifications aligned with the main world, he inherited the legacy of the suspected Zhenwu tomb.

The sinister voice fell silent for a moment before saying, “I’m trying to reason with you, yet you dare to defy me. Don’t you fear death?”

Lady Red Thread drew her sword with a metallic ring, pointing at the ceiling, “You’re taking advantage of chaos. Do you think Gathering Spirit Manor has no allies? Master Huangfu has been a chivalrous figure for years, guiding younger generations generously. He has countless friends and old acquaintances across the land. How dare you bully him?”

“Haha,” the sinister voice burst into loud laughter. “Unfortunately, none of his friends or acquaintances are experts in Exteriors. Since the engagement was announced three months ago, including you two, fewer than ten people have come to assist Gathering Spirit Manor. After my persuasion, most have wisely withdrawn, while a few have gone to meet Huangfu Tao.”

“Ultimately, the world sees only power. Most people are heartless and ungrateful. Chivalry and kindness rarely earn loyalty. Of course, there are a few like you, not heartless but foolish.”

Lady Red Thread laughed bitterly in anger, pointing her sword at Master Wen and the bald old man, “Yes, I know most people are heartless and ungrateful. You! Wen Qichang, nearly killed by the Six Ghosts of Wei River, were saved by Master Huangfu, who later kept you as a steward at Gathering Spirit Manor and helped you marry. Isn’t that true?”

“You! Chi Feng, after offending disciples of the Heaven Village Sect, your family was destroyed. Who sheltered you, and who helped you seek justice from Heaven Village?”

…

She named each one, her words making Master Wen, the bald old man, and others flush with shame and anger.

“Is this how you repay him? Fleeing Gathering Spirit Manor in its time of crisis with many capable companions?” Lady Red Thread rebuked. “Though I’m just a weak woman, I’ve received Master Huangfu’s guidance. I remember this kindness deeply. Today, even if it costs me my life, I will go to Gathering Spirit Manor and help Lady Huangfu seek justice!”

Desert Divine Camel also stood, his aged voice resolute, “Without Master Huangfu, I would have died thirty years ago. I’ve lived thirty more years, thirty vibrant years. Now, using this old body to repay him, it’s worth it!”

“Stubborn fools, asking for death!” The sinister voice spat venomously.

“Good! This is true chivalry!” Suddenly, a clear voice rang out.

Lady Red Thread and others turned, seeing a clean, handsome Daoist standing by the innermost fire. Dressed in a Daoist robe, silk sash, cloth shoes, with a sword on his back and a saber at his waist, he exuded a carefree, transcendent aura.

What was this Daoist getting involved for… Wen Qichang and others were at a loss.

Meng Qi smiled and stepped forward, “True chivalrous heroes never force others. Master Wen, your strength is gone, and you have a wife and daughter. Even if you stayed, it would be futile and endanger your family. I understand…”

He continued Lady Red Thread’s words gently, making Wen Qichang and Chi Feng feel deeply moved, Lady Red Thread frowning, and Desert Divine Camel’s face darkening.

“Heh, this little Daoist actually understands reason,” the sinister voice mockingly praised.

Before Lady Red Thread could speak, Meng Qi touched his saber hilt and chuckled, “This humble Daoist, Qingyuan, received Master Huangfu’s guidance in saber techniques. I wish to accompany you two to Gathering Spirit Manor.”

“You…” Lady Red Thread hadn’t expected such a twist. Facing the refined, transcendent Daoist before her, she momentarily lost her words.

“You’re another fool asking for death…” The sinister voice sneered.

Before the words faded, Meng Qi’s voice thundered like spring thunder, focused into a beam:

“Show yourself, coward!”

He used the Eight-Nine Mystical Art to simulate the Purple Lightning Force, unleashing Thunder Speech.

“Show yourself, coward!”

The voice boomed like thunder, purple lightning flickering in the air.

Crack! Thud! Someone fell from the roof, convulsing as if struck by lightning. The sinister voice vanished completely.