Watching Ye Weiyang’s face turn ashen with rage, Ming Zhu feigned astonishment. "Could it be that Villa Master Ye has taken a fancy to me?"
Ye Weiyang: "..."
Shen Hongchuan choked. "Pfft—"
Ming Zhu shook his head gently, looking somewhat regretful. "Alas, they say even a rabbit doesn't eat the grass near its own burrow. For Villa Master Ye to lay hands on a childhood friend he grew up with... tsk, tsk. Your audacity in pursuit of lust has truly opened my eyes."
Ye Weiyang: "..." *Who the hell is your childhood friend?!*
Ye Weiyang gripped his sword and stood up, ready to fight Ming Zhu to the death. "You! Come! Fight me!"
Ming Zhu pointed at him. "You, a Mahayana stage master." Then he pointed at himself. "Me, a mere Golden Core. You want to fight me across several major cultivation realms? Heavens, Villa Master Ye, do you have no shame at all? To think you’d use your cultivation to bully me."
Ye Weiyang: "..."
Ye Weiyang was so incensed he couldn't squeeze out a single word. He laughed out of sheer fury, his teeth gritted. "Little brat, you’re really something!"
Ten or twenty years had passed, yet that silver tongue was still as loathsome as ever!
Guining Zhenren continued to sip his wine with an elegant poise, seemingly indifferent to the confrontation between the two. Beside him, Gui He suppressed a smile, remaining silent as well.
Seeing that Guining Zhenren wasn't intervening, Ming Zhu pushed his luck even further. With a half-smile, he said, "I am naturally 'something.' I believe Villa Master Ye experienced that in his youth. So many years have passed, and you’ve even become a Villa Master, Weiyang, yet you’re still so impulsive. It seems Long Night Villa will eventually meet its end at your hands."
Ming Zhu’s tongue wasn't usually this venomous, but whenever he encountered Ye Weiyang, it was as if he were possessed by Lu Qingkong. He prattled on and on, mocking Ye Weiyang until the man was nearly ready to discard all dignity and strike him.
At that moment, Ming Fuhua, dressed in white, walked in from outside. She first bowed to Guining Zhenren, then shot a cold glance at Ming Zhu. "Shut up."
Ming Zhu instantly lost his nerve, lowering his head without a word.
"Fu... Fu... Fuhua..." Ye Weiyang took a deep breath, his voice trembling. "He... he’s a scoundrel!"
A trace of helplessness appeared on Ming Fuhua’s frost-like face. She said softly, "Villa Master Ye, my apologies. My brother has spent many years on Rizhao Mountain, and his temperament has become somewhat arrogant. I hope you won't stoop to his level."
Ye Weiyang seemed determined to stoop to that level, but having been rendered speechless by Ming Zhu’s earlier barbs, he couldn't find the words to speak for a moment.
Ming Fuhua immediately glared at Ming Zhu. "Get out, now!"
Ming Zhu chirped an "Aye!" and scurried away in a flash.
Seeing this, Ye Weiyang tried to grab him. "Bastard! Don't... don't run! Come back and fight me!"
Ming Fuhua quickly blocked his path. "Villa Master, you are drunk. You should rest well."
Ye Weiyang: "..."
The wine in front of him hadn't been touched.
Shen Hongchuan: "Pfft..."
This pair of siblings truly knew how to infuriate people to death.
Outside the pavilion, the inner disciples of Rizhao were gathered in a rare assembly, critiquing the martial arts arena below.
For the Rizhao Sect Competition, everyone wore a blue cloth ribbon symbolizing the sect. Those from the North Mountain wore cyan-green, while those from the West Mountain wore water-blue. Generally, others wore them as forehead bands or hair ribbons; looking out, the seating area was a sea of alternating cyan and blue.
However, the inner disciples were far from conventional. The Eldest Senior Brother, Ming Zhu, tied his to his hair ribbon; Yi Fuju tied his around his wrist; and Yan Xueyu was even more peculiar, using it as a blindfold over his eyes.
Lu Qingkong was the type to hang anything he liked onto his person. He seemed to be quite fond of this ribbon, as he had tied it directly around his neck. When he first arrived, Shen Di'an had mocked him for a long time.
Lu Qingkong had retorted coldly, "Someone who ties it to their belt has no right to mock me. Are you a child?"
Shen Di'an’s smile had vanished instantly.
When these eccentrics of Rizhao Mountain gathered, they were bitingly sarcastic toward one another. Strangely enough, though they were often at odds, within a day of mocking or scheming against each other, they would interact as if nothing had happened. Even after Lu Qingkong and the other brothers had sabotaged each other six months ago, once the matter was settled, they treated each other as they always had, with no trace of the previous "dog-eat-dog" ruthlessness.
Lu Qingkong and Yan Xueyu were huddled together, with Lu Qingkong prattling incessantly. Because his speech was so long-winded and rambling, the surrounding disciples couldn't help but stare.
Unfazed, Lu Qingkong remained dedicated to explaining the situation on the platforms to Yan Xueyu.
"On the left platform are disciples from the North Mountain. Tsk, what were those two called... oh, I remember. Lin Zhi and Qin Yu. Both are at the Golden Core stage, and their strength seems evenly matched—Whoa! Damn! That Lin Zhi attacked without even a greeting. That’s a sneak attack, tsk tsk, how shameful. But then again, when I was framed for spreading rumors, he seemed to be the one jeering the loudest. Hmph, I hope he gets beaten into a pig's head this time."
Someone finally couldn't stand his chatter and called out, "Ninth Senior Brother, you’re so noisy. Can you be quiet for a moment?"
Lu Qingkong stood up and snapped, "No! Is this your house? I’ll say whatever I want, what’s it to you? Keep your mouth shut and watch the match. If you don't like it, get lost! If you can't control my mouth, then control your own ears. Don't be so ill-mannered, lest you make a fool of yourself."
The people around them looked at him in shock.
Lu Qingkong glared. "What are you looking at? Go play somewhere else!"
The crowd, unable to offend him, scurried away.
Only then did Lu Qingkong let out a breath. He sat back down and was about to continue his commentary for Yan Xueyu when Ming Zhu suddenly vaulted over the railing from behind. He was caught by Yi Fuju, which prevented him from falling.
Having scolded Ye Weiyang, Ming Zhu was in a great mood. He squeezed in between Yi Fuju and Lu Qingkong, leaning on the railing of the front row to watch the matches below. Squinting, he asked, "When are you guys going up?"
Yan Xueyu replied, "My eyes aren't good, so I won't join the fun. Xiao Jiu is in the fourth round, while Yanfeng and Second Senior Brother are in the seventh. It should be a while."
Shen Di'an said with a beaming smile, "And as Rizhao’s dedicated physician, I get a slot for the external trials without even competing. Hee hee."
The group was instantly filled with envy and jealousy. Lu Qingkong felt a bit indignant and grumbled, "I can also get a trial slot without competing."
As everyone looked at him, Lu Qingkong puffed out his chest. "I can operate small-scale Flying Kites. That way, everyone won't have to squeeze onto public ones when we travel, and we can save money."
Shang Yanfeng, who had been listening in silence, suddenly spoke up. "I can also get a slot without competing."
He was the strongest combatant on Rizhao Mountain. Every time there was a competition like this, it was like child's play to him; he could send someone flying off the stage with a single, effortless move.
Yi Fuju added, "I can too."
Ming Zhu: "..."
Ming Zhu’s eyes turned red with jealousy. "That’s enough! Believe it or not, I’ll beat you all up."
The group fooled around for a bit. Ming Zhu pinned the gloating Lu Qingkong and Shen Di'an against their seatbacks, one in each hand, and said fiercely, "I’m going to beat you so hard you won't be able to leave the mountain!"
Shen Di'an quickly begged for mercy. "Senior Brother, spare me, spare—ah! Look, it's Fuxue!"
Ming Zhu’s hands paused. He glanced down and indeed saw Zhou Fuxue, dressed in cyan robes, ascending the steps with an expressionless face.
Shen Di'an pushed Ming Zhu back into his seat and explained, "His luck isn't great. He drew the second round, and his opponent is Feng Yao, the number one disciple of the outer sect."
Ming Zhu couldn't help but feel nervous. "Then... can he win?"
Shen Di'an shook his head. "I don't know."
Lu Qingkong continued his commentary to Yan Xueyu. "Third Senior Brother, the ones on the stage now are Zhou Fuxue and Feng Yao from the outer sect. They say Feng Yao is at the late Nascent Soul stage. It looks like things are looking grim for Fuxue."
Yan Xueyu mused, "I heard Feng Yao has a Cold Spirit Vein?"
"Yes."
Ming Zhu had no time to analyze such trivialities. He pounded Lu Qingkong’s thigh hard, asking anxiously, "Can he win? Can he?"
Lu Qingkong winced in pain. "He won't die even if he loses. Why are you so worked up?"
Ming Zhu ignored him, reaching across Yi Fuju to grab Shang Yanfeng’s sleeve. "Fifth Brother, Fifth Brother, look. Will Fuxue win? Is that Feng Yao really that powerful?"
Shang Yanfeng replied, "He’s certainly more than enough to beat you."
Ming Zhu: "..."
Zhou Fuxue stepped onto the black spirit stone platform, sword in hand, his eyes coldly fixed on Feng Yao, who wore the standard mountain uniform.
Feng Yao had a somber expression; he was likely a man of few words, only giving a slight nod upon seeing him.
As the white jade stone in the center of the platform flashed with a faint light, sword light erupted from both men. Feng Yao swept a hand upward, and a translucent ice sword instantly appeared before him.
In a mere moment, the entire platform was filled with swirling ice and snow.
Zhou Fuxue watched coldly. With a flick of his finger, the Wuxin Sword floated above his head, then split into two, then four, quickly filling the sky with a vast expanse of deathly white.
Lu Qingkong’s words flew out rapidly. "Feng Yao’s Cold Spirit Vein is indeed extraordinary. If you look closely, the entire platform is saturated with his chilling qi. If Zhou Fuxue isn't careful and lets that chill enter his meridians, he’ll lose the ability to move almost instantly... Hey! They’ve moved! Is Fuxue going for a head-on collision? But isn't he only at the Golden Core stage..."
Before Lu Qingkong could finish, he was stunned by the aura radiating from Zhou Fuxue. "Na... Nascent Soul?!"
Zhou Fuxue’s face was a mask of indifference, looking even colder than the snow falling around them. The Rizhao mountain-patterned ribbon was tied to his Wuxin Sword, fluttering slightly, completely unaffected by the surrounding cold.
The two were incredibly fast, exchanging hundreds of moves in an instant. Those with lower cultivation could only see two afterimages entwined in a blur. Heavy snow fell, quickly accumulating a thin layer on the black spirit stone floor.
Ming Zhu nervously pinched Lu Qingkong’s thigh with a death grip.
Lu Qingkong: "I thought Fuxue would suffer against the Cold Spirit Vein, but it seems the chilling qi has no effect on him at all. And his Wuxin Sword, bolstered by his spiritual power, is actually suppressing Feng Yao... Hiss! Eldest Senior Brother, are you trying to kill me?! If you want to pinch something, pinch yourself! What kind of habit is pinching others?"
Ming Zhu released his grip, his mind preoccupied. He watched the platform without blinking. It seemed he needed to hold onto something to feel secure; after a moment, his hand found Lu Qingkong’s arm, pinching him until Lu Qingkong was hopping mad.
Shang Yanfeng watched with amusement and said, "Senior Brother, there’s no need to be nervous. The outcome is decided. Fuxue has won."
Sure enough, the crowd suddenly heard the sound of ice shattering. The snow on the platform slowly settled, revealing two figures. Zhou Fuxue stood with one hand behind his back, the other extended as he held a complex hand seal. Opposite him, Feng Yao looked disheveled, with several flying swords hovering around his vital points.
Feng Yao panted for a few breaths and said, "I lost."
Zhou Fuxue nodded slightly and sheathed the Wuxin Sword. "A good match."
Zhou Fuxue remained unruffled by his victory. He turned to leave, but Feng Yao suddenly called out to him, asking, "How were you unaffected by my chilling qi?"
Zhou Fuxue paused and tilted his head slightly.
In the stands, Ming Zhu suddenly shouted, "What?! Say that again!"
Shang Yanfeng quickly tried to soothe him. "Senior Brother, calm down. He was the one who insisted I take him to the Cold Pond for secluded cultivation. I couldn't refuse him, so I took him there. Besides, I was watching the whole time; I wouldn't let anything happen to him."
Ming Zhu nearly exploded. "No! That’s still not okay! How could you do that? How old is he? His cultivation wasn't high enough, yet you let him stay in the Cold Pond for so long? You... you’re going to be the death of me!"
Beside them, Shen Di'an whispered, "Senior Brother, but his cultivation has already surpassed yours by a large margin."
Ming Zhu glared at him fiercely. "Shut up!"
Shang Yanfeng said helplessly, "Senior Brother, you saw it yourself. He’s fine now, his cultivation has improved significantly, and he didn't struggle at all against Feng Yao’s Cold Spirit Vein. Isn't that a good thing?"
"What kind of place is the Cold Pond?" Ming Zhu was so angry his head was spinning. He said weakly, "Even a Mahayana master like you can only stay in there for half a year at most. He was only at the Golden Core stage then, and he just... recklessly went in... Ah, I can't, I’m going to die of anger."
While Ming Zhu was fuming, Zhou Fuxue had already walked over to them with his sword. He nodded slightly to his senior brothers and sat down. Seeing Ming Zhu gasping for air in rage, he asked in confusion, "What’s wrong?"
Shen Di'an quickly said, "Nothing, nothing's wrong. Eldest Senior Brother isn't feeling well; I’m taking him out for some fresh air."
With that, he supported the breathless Ming Zhu as they walked out.
As Ming Zhu walked, he used his last bit of strength to feebly tug at Shang Yanfeng, saying weakly, "Shang... Shang Yanfeng, I’m not done with you. Just you wait..."
Shang Yanfeng: "..."
Shen Di'an hurried to pull him away.
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 封爻 | Feng Yao | The number one disciple of the outer sect. |
| 寒灵脉 | Cold Spirit Vein | A special spiritual constitution that allows the user to manipulate ice and cold qi. |
| 无心剑 | Wuxin Sword | Zhou Fuxue's sword (lit. Heartless/Mindless Sword). |
| 寒潭 | Cold Pond | A dangerous, freezing location used for extreme cultivation. |
| 行鸢 | Flying Kite | A type of magical transport vessel. |
| 抹额 | Forehead band | A traditional Chinese headband/ribbon. |
| 命门 | Vital points | Lit. "Life Gate," critical points on the body in martial arts/cultivation. |
