“All worries dissolve, the mundane world fades away.”
The low, gentle voice lingered in the dilapidated main hall, its echo intertwining with the pattering rain and the dripping sounds, as if carried far into the serene and tranquil void.
Mu Yunle froze, feeling something surge through her soul, cleansing it. It was like when she was young, accompanying her mother to a Buddhist temple to fulfill a vow. Staying overnight, her playful and noisy nature stirred up the courtyard’s tranquility. Then, the sound of the evening drum and morning bell—“Dang, dang, dang”—washed over her heart, as if clearing away dust, leaving it pure and transparent. From then on, she became much quieter.
She had heard sayings like “All worries dissolve, the mundane world fades away” many times, but none had ever struck her as deeply as today. Reflecting on it, she realized that when other monks chanted this phrase, it was often during tonsure ceremonies for those disillusioned with the mortal world, their faces veiled by curling incense smoke. Those recitations carried solemnity and expectation, but lacked the profound sentiment that Master Zhending, the gray-robed monk, had just expressed—a sentiment born from having truly overcome life’s tribulations, a genuine embodiment of the ancient lamp and Buddha.
All loneliness, all sorrow, all hopes were buried in that single phrase.
All worries dissolve, the mundane world fades away.
It took Mu Yunle a while to snap out of her daze, realizing she had momentarily forgotten to stay vigilant about the temple’s surroundings. She playfully stuck out her tongue, inwardly mocking herself: “Master always said I’m too young, lacking refinement, my temperament still immature, my emotions too superficial. Though I’m well-suited for the poetic and picturesque swordsmanship of the Huanhua Sword Sect, I lack depth. Uniting with heaven and earth is easy, but returning to simplicity like the seniors is hard. It seems there’s some truth to that…”
She candidly acknowledged her lack of maturity, nearly forgetting her duties due to being swept away by the moment.
“Master, have you heard this piece before? Do you know Master Zhenhui? Your Dharma name is Zhending—could you be a senior monk from Shaolin’s ‘Zhen’ generation?” Mu Yunle asked, seizing the moment of calm introspection to extend her senses outward, merging with heaven and earth to detect any disturbances, while voicing the questions that hadn’t surfaced earlier.
Then she saw the gray-robed monk, Zhending, gently tapping the wooden fish, eyes closed, head unturned, responding softly, “I’ve had the fortune to hear it.”
He had heard it over twenty years ago… in a “past life” he rarely recalled anymore…
The hall fell silent, the atmosphere serene yet tinged with the exhaustion of utter depletion. Outside, the rain poured fiercely, and the lotus leaves dripped rhythmically.
Mu Yunle tactfully withdrew her gaze, no longer disturbing the gray-robed monk.
At that moment, Wang Tong’s voice transmitted to her: “Miss Yunle, why do you seem so odd? Why keep asking about this monk?”
“Don’t you think Master Zhending is the kind of monk with a lifetime of stories? There must be a tale behind him that’s both stirring and heartbreaking…” Mu Yunle’s dark eyes sparkled with a hint of liveliness. When not wielding her sword, she retained a trace of girlish charm.
She suddenly chuckled self-deprecatingly: “Oh, never mind me. We Huanhua Sword Sect folks are just inexplicably like this!”
“I know, I know. We’re all in Huanzhou—how could I not know the poetic swordplay of the Huanhua Sword Sect?” Wang Tong hurriedly clarified.
The girl before him was proud yet reserved, confident yet candid, thriving on praise. When she wielded her sword, she seemed to glow, exuding chivalry and grace, captivating all who watched. In everyday moments, she was both joyful and petulant, with a lingering innocence, every frown and smile a picturesque scene… He averted his gaze, afraid she’d notice the admiration he couldn’t hide in his eyes.
Mu Yunle didn’t even glance at him, one hand propping her chin, the other supporting her elbow, as she kept watch over the dark, lonely ridge while gazing at the lotus flowers bathed in rain, their petals fresh and pure.
The steady tok tok tok of the wooden fish was profoundly calming. After some time, Liang Jiuzhou coughed up another mouthful of inky blood, his pale face gaining a touch of color.
“Senior Liang, has your condition improved significantly?” Mu Yunle asked joyfully, sensing that Liang Jiuzhou’s aura had grown much stronger.
Liang Jiuzhou took a deep breath and said, “By dawn, I should recover about thirty percent of my strength, enough to fly and escape with you two.”
Before Mu Yunle and Wang Tong could respond, Liang Jiuzhou turned to look outside the temple. The rain poured heavily, mist rising, the night so dark that the distance was invisible. He frowned and said, “I had planned to heal and then travel swiftly through the night to shake off our pursuers… But in such heavy rain and darkness, this is exactly the kind of environment where ferocious demon beasts roam. If we encounter them, it’ll be relentless, no less dangerous than an attack from an Exterior Realm expert.”
The situation was urgent, with enemies behind them. If not for the environmental constraints, they wouldn’t have stopped to take shelter and heal.
“Senior Liang, the dark night and heavy rain, along with the ridge’s demon beasts, are threats to us, but they’re also threats to our pursuers. No need to worry too much,” Wang Tong reassured.
Mu Yunle pondered for a moment and asked, “Senior, do you know who’s pursuing us?”
Earlier, Liang Jiuzhou had only mentioned that the pursuers were powerful and urged the two of them not to get involved, without specifying who they were.
Liang Jiuzhou sighed, “I don’t know the others, but I recognize two of them. One is the successor of the current Joy Bodhisattva, ‘Desire-Cleansing Bodhisattva’ Yingning. Though she hasn’t crossed the first Heavenly Stairway, her strength is not far from the Fourth Heaven. The other is the former maid of the previous ‘Great Rakshasa Demoness’ Gu Xiaosang, now known as ‘Brocade Weaver’ Shao Changge. Her cultivation is no less than Yingning’s, and she’s highly valued by the current Holy Maiden of the Luo Sect.”
“The successor of the current Joy Bodhisattva, Yingning… Brocade Weaver Shao Changge…” Wang Tong gasped. These were notorious figures in the demonic and unorthodox paths!
Mu Yunle’s expression grew serious. “The Nine Demonic Paths are stirring trouble together again?”
“It seems so,” Liang Jiuzhou said, sensing their surroundings, a trace of unease in his demeanor.
Tok, tok, tok. They waited for the rain to stop, wary of enemies. Unknowingly, dawn approached, the clouds cleared, the rain ceased, and the night passed peacefully.
Liang Jiuzhou let out a long breath, having survived the most dangerous moment. He quickly stood, bowing to the gray-robed monk Meng Qi: “Master, we take our leave. Thank you for your hospitality.”
Meng Qi returned the gesture without a word.
Liang Jiuzhou summoned a gust of astral wind, enveloping Mu Yunle and Wang Tong, and flew close to the ground, escaping outward.
As they left, Mu Yunle couldn’t help but glance back. The gray-robed monk still sat under the ancient lamp, accompanied by the Buddha, the wooden fish tapping monotonously. He seemed to sit there with his primordial spirit deeply concealed, his heart ashen, leaving only an empty shell.
Their journey was uneventful, and they reached the nearest city in Northern Zhou.
…
Outside the lonely ridge, the increasingly charming and delicate Yingning looked at Shao Changge, who deliberately imitated Gu Xiaosang, and frowned. “They actually slipped away. Could they still be hiding in this ridge?”
“We searched every inch of this mountain last night, three times over, and fought five demon beasts. There’s no trace of them. It seems we were misled by false clues,” Shao Changge said coolly.
Yingning huffed, “Since when did Liang Jiuzhou have such skill? Even his sworn brother Gu Changqing couldn’t have fooled me!”
“Who’s to say he didn’t have a fortunate encounter?” Shao Changge gazed into the distance. “We should head back.”
…
In a border city of Northern Zhou, Liang Jiuzhou went to meet the representative of Thrush Villa, while Mu Yunle, listening to the music of the huqin, strolled through the streets with Wang Tong by her side.
Suddenly, her eyes lit up as she spotted a familiar face. “Heroine Yuan, you’ve come to Northern Zhou too?”
Not far away stood a woman in bold, vibrant clothing, unlike the people of Northern Zhou or Great Jin. She was strikingly beautiful, with a mature charm in her eyes and brows.
Mu Yunle recognized this heroine, Yuan Yang, from the Southern Wastelands. Yuan Yang had helped many tribes escape hardship when the Blood-Clad Cult retreated. Now, with the cult stirring again, she had to retreat to the Central Plains for self-preservation.
Since the Huanhua Sword Sect was relatively close to the Southern Wastelands, Mu Yunle had met Yuan Yang a few times and greatly admired her, especially considering she was close to crossing the first Heavenly Stairway despite lacking a strong lineage.
Yuan Yang smiled warmly. “You little rascal, wandering to the grasslands?”
Little rascal… Mu Yunle recalled past memories and quickly changed the subject. “Heroine Yuan, are you traveling?”
Yuan Yang’s smile faded slightly. “Yes, and also searching for someone.”
Her expression suddenly froze, as if lost in thought, murmuring to herself, “Many say he’s dead, but I believe he’s still alive, just staying out of the martial world for some reason.”
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