The story returns to the early hours of the previous night.
As Mu Gesheng and his companions left Yeshui Zhuhua, Zhu Yinxiao revealed his true form, carrying the two men into the sky. Their destination was Penglai.
The Vermilion Bird could travel ten thousand miles in a single day. Although Penglai lay far across the ocean, it was but a moment’s journey for him. Before long, the air grew damp, and the darkness of the night was no longer a solid shroud; starlight began to emerge from the layers of clouds, and the sound of waves crashing against the shore echoed from below.
"Old Fifth, just drop us off at the ferry," Mu Gesheng said. "Your true form is too big a target. We’re here to stir up trouble, not pay a social visit. We need to sneak into the village quietly—no grand entrances."
"Even at a time like this," Zhu Yinxiao said helplessly, "you still find ways to poke fun at me, Fourth Brother."
Penglai was an immortal mountain upon the sea, unreachable by ordinary men. However, not far from the mountain lay a stretch of jagged reefs that served as a ferry landing. A bottomless boat was moored there, facilitating the entry and exit of guests.
It was a night of the full moon. A massive lunar reflection shimmered upon the sea, and the reef landing sat right in the center of that moonlit shadow. Within the milky-white halo, a small boat drifted.
Zhu Yinxiao landed upon the reefs, and the two men jumped down from mid-air. Chai Shuxin bent down to untie the mooring rope while Mu Gesheng patted the Vermilion Bird’s feathers. "Old Fifth, this is far enough."
Zhu Yinxiao opened his mouth, unsure of what to say. He had encountered this scene too many times. He was the youngest student of the Ginkgo Library, the one protected by everyone, and often the one left behind. Every time, he never knew what to say.
Fortunately, this time, the person he was seeing off was not alone, but accompanied by a shadow that would not leave his side.
Finally, the great vermilion bird lowered its head and nudged Mu Gesheng’s neck. "Fourth Brother. Brother Chai."
"May your journey be safe."
Chai Shuxin manned the oars. The sound of the waves was vast and endless as the reef landing slowly receded. The Vermilion Bird still stood there, shrinking into a small speck of red.
"If Old Fifth keeps standing there, he’ll become the next generation’s 'Husband-Watching Rock,'" Mu Gesheng remarked. "The sea breeze is strong; his coat of bird feathers is going to get blown bald."
He pulled out the Guwang Pipe he had swiped from Wu Biyou, tucked it into his mouth, and reached into Chai Shuxin’s pocket to fish out a box of matches.
Chai Shuxin usually disapproved of his smoking, but this time he only paused for a moment and said nothing.
Mu Gesheng exhaled a cloud of smoke, the blue mist swirling around him. He hadn't touched the Guwang Pipe in a long time. The ebony wood was inlaid with a golden mouthpiece, casting a dull luster in the night.
He thought for a moment, then struck up a casual conversation. "Back at the Ginkgo Library, Old Third was never actually good at smoking."
"I know," Chai Shuxin replied.
"His voice was naturally beautiful; smoking would have been a waste." Mu Gesheng held the pipe in his teeth, his voice slightly muffled by the sea breeze. "Back then, it was actually Old Second and I who often took the Guwang Pipe to mess around... we’d summon a demon or a ghost at the drop of a hat to help with the dishes and cooking."
He chuckled. "Back then, Old Third was like a literal head accountant and housekeeper. Even his pipe came with a domestic service crew on call."
"When I went abroad to study, the person who wrote to me the most wasn't you, nor was it Old Second—it was Old Third," Mu Gesheng said. "Postage was expensive back then, so I had to spend carefully. I calculated back and forth and figured Old Third was the one among us least likely to ever leave home. Old Second goes without saying; with a single blade, he could roam heaven and earth. You, though busy with the Chai family affairs, seemed to imply in your letters that you wanted to go abroad to study medicine. Only Old Third... the skills of the Yin-Yang family are useless once you cross the border. The celestial timing and ley lines are different. Plus, with his worrying nature, he’d likely never leave in his life."
"He never stepped past the threshold, so since I had gone out, I wrote more about what I saw in my letters." Mu Gesheng tapped the pipe, speaking casually. "There was a time in France when I particularly loved writing to him from a small café on the Left Bank of the Seine. I had a classmate who wanted to learn Chinese, so I used Old Third’s letters to teach her characters. Unfortunately, the guy had no sense of romance. Every letter was a long-winded nag—eat more, drink more water, don't get into messy relationships. My classmate actually thought he was my mother."
"I wrote whatever I felt like, and he listened to whatever I said. It was as if, in that way, he was with me, wandering to the ends of the earth." Mu Gesheng smiled as he spoke.
One spoke tentatively, the other listened tentatively; in the end, the pages were filled with nothing but fabrications, yet many years had passed like that.
Every generation of the Wuchangzi only packed the pipe once. Until the Wuchangzi’s life ended, the tobacco in the bowl would never burn out. The scent of the Guwang smoke was strange, like ancient hookah mixed with a stale, dark fragrance. Mu Gesheng didn't know the recipe for this tobacco, but he knew the source of one of the scents.
It was the smell of bone ash.
Chai Shuxin listened quietly until he finished, then said, "When I sent you letters back then, you said you weren't short on money."
"And I wasn't interested in studying abroad. I wanted to find you."
Mu Gesheng seemed to have been waiting for this exact line and immediately beamed. "What’s this, San-jiu? You’re even jealous of your own brother-in-law?"
Chai Shuxin glanced at him, his expression helpless.
The sea breeze brushed past their faces. Mu Gesheng seemed very relaxed, speaking these words as if they were idle chatter intended to lighten the mood. Yet his tone was deliberately ambiguous, like a moon hidden beneath the waves.
Chai Shuxin dipped his oar, scooping the moon back up.
"We’ll reach Penglai soon," Mu Gesheng said lazily. "Stop rowing and come lie down with me for a bit."
After all, such a beautiful night and a full moon were rare. They should have a date first, and then go commit arson and murder.
Taking down Penglai was, in Mu Gesheng’s words, an old tune played anew—a review of old lessons to gain new insights. Chai Shuxin was a veteran player; he’d be a pro by the second time. Last time, he had burned down their nest quite smoothly, so there wasn't much to say this time—just get it done.
Mu Gesheng had hardly made a plan. On one hand, he and Chai Shuxin understood each other too well; many things didn't need to be said. On the other hand, from his previous conversation with the little monk, Mu Gesheng faintly sensed that Hua Bucheng could perceive certain things through the Mountain Ghost Coins. The little monk had been constrained by this, only able to speak in hints.
Furthermore, when he had left Penglai without saying goodbye that day, Hua Bucheng had never sent anyone to find him, nor had he even sent a greeting. This was absolutely abnormal. He must have sensed something.
If this was true, then Mu Gesheng could only remain as silent as possible, lest he spoil the entire game before it even started.
According to the tacit understanding between him and Chai Shuxin, they should split up upon reaching Penglai. Chai Shuxin would be responsible for drawing Hua Bucheng’s attention, while Mu Gesheng would place the tokens of the Six Families at various formation nodes. Finally, he would trigger a massive formation to wipe everything out in one go.
Of course, that was the ideal scenario, and reality was always full of variables and sudden surprises.
The moment the small boat touched the shore, Chai Shuxin sensed something was wrong. "It’s too quiet," he frowned.
It was indeed too quiet. The Penglai sect was at its peak, with over a thousand disciples, yet there wasn't even the sound of a voice nearby, let alone a breeze.
What was going on? Had Hua Bucheng calculated their arrival and fled with the family assets overnight?
Mu Gesheng squinted as he surveyed the distant mountain gate, suddenly feeling a flicker of abnormality. He took out several Mountain Ghost Coins and cast a divination on the spot. Chai Shuxin watched him. "How is it?"
"One piece of good news and one..."
"Bad news."
"The bad news is that Hua Bucheng has gone mad. He probably realized his wishful thinking of devouring the fortune of the other five families had failed, so he simply charged up a big move." Mu Gesheng paused, as if processing some information, before continuing, "He has sealed the entire Penglai Island and turned it into a furnace."
Chai Shuxin immediately understood Mu Gesheng’s meaning. "You mean, he intends to refine everyone on Penglai Island?"
"Theoretically, it’s feasible. If his appetite is truly that large, eating over a thousand people from Penglai in one breath might actually allow his cultivation to overflow, leading to ascension." Mu Gesheng was somewhat shocked. "I knew he’d be shameless, but I didn't expect him to be *this* shameless. As expected, gluttons have no bottom line."
"He’s right—he sealed Penglai Island, yet we still got in." Chai Shuxin was thinking of something else. "He’s waiting for us."
"Yes." Mu Gesheng nodded. "Hua Bucheng knows we’re coming and has prepared himself. Looking at this setup, he wants to refine us along with the rest."
Facing a great enemy, the two looked at each other and quickly divided the labor. Mu Gesheng tossed a Mountain Ghost Coin. "Hua Bucheng is at the mountain peak. Be careful on the way."
Chai Shuxin nodded, gave him a look, and disappeared from the spot like a gust of wind.
By doing this, Hua Bucheng had actually inadvertently given them a helping hand. He had sealed the entire Penglai Island, so once Penglai was destroyed, the impact on the outside world would be much smaller.
But there was also a downside. If Hua Bucheng refined everyone fast enough, Mu Gesheng might not have time to set up the entire formation, and even the tokens of the Six Families might be devoured by him. At that point, they would have no chance of victory left.
Therefore, the priority was to race against time. Chai Shuxin would stop the lunatic who was obsessed with becoming an immortal, while Mu Gesheng would race to set up the formation. They were both "Old Immortals"; it just depended on whose hands and feet were faster.
Chai Shuxin sped along the mountain path. He used his maximum speed, reaching the top of the Sword Pavilion within half an hour.
The snow was pure white, and the sea of clouds seethed. Above the Sword Pavilion, beneath the full moon, lay a vast silver lake called Baiyunbian—the Edge of White Clouds.
In Chai Shuxin’s memory, Baiyunbian only appeared on the days of Great Cold. Hua Bucheng had somehow managed to recreate this scene in the height of summer.
Hua Bucheng was boating on the lake, dressed in white, with a wine flask placed on the flatboat. He sensed Chai Shuxin’s arrival but did not turn around. He simply flicked his fishing rod, releasing a freshly caught green carp back into the lake. "You’ve come."
Chai Shuxin said nothing. He leaped forward, the Shihong Blade unsheathing with a ring. It carved a streak of brilliant, sinister light through the air, slashing directly at Hua Bucheng!
He put ninety percent of his strength into this strike. Even Hua Bucheng had to stand up and dodge. The flatboat was instantly cleaved in two, and the blade-wind cut into the bottom of the lake, kicking up a massive wave.
As the curtain of water filled the sky, Hua Bucheng sighed. "A pity for that flask of good wine."
Chai Shuxin ignored him completely, his silent moves ruthless and fierce. If Hua Bucheng was guilty of distorting facts and bewitching hearts, then with Chai Shuxin, it was entirely a case of "casting flirtatious glances at a blind man"—a total waste of effort.
In this regard, he was completely different from Mu Gesheng. If the person standing here were Mu Gesheng, he would likely be performing a comedy routine while fighting Hua Bucheng.
One was a Changshengzi, the other a Luoshazi. Although Hua Bucheng was calculating and moved with deliberation, Chai Shuxin was no saint either; everyone carried blood debts on their backs.
The Immortal subdues demons; the Rakshasa feeds the tiger.
Chai Shuxin’s speed had become a blur of afterimages. Under the moonlight, only flashes of burning red light could be caught. Every one of his strikes aimed at Hua Bucheng’s vital joints, forcing the other to defend. The Shihong Blade struck an object, letting out a sharp, ringing sound.
Hua Bucheng drew his sword.
Chai Shuxin had only seen Hua Bucheng’s sword in an illusion, and that was from a hundred years ago. Now that a century had passed, the opponent had reached unknown heights of cultivation.
A single sword stroke kicked up a thousand piles of snow, brimming with righteous aura.
They faced off on the lake’s surface: one in black with a red blade, stunningly sinister; the other in white with a clear sword, elegant and ethereal.
The Rakshasa and the Cultivator, the Vengeful Ghost and the Immortal—two entirely different auras exploded over the lake, clashing and colliding. An invisible confrontation expanded outward, causing the lake to surge with massive waves, even startling the accumulated snow on the distant mountains.
"I haven't drawn my sword in many years because I lacked a suitable opponent. Yet you forced it with a single move." Hua Bucheng stroked the blade of his sword. "As expected of my Junior Brother’s student."
The murderous aura on Chai Shuxin’s body suddenly surged. "You are not fit to mention him."
"Calling him that is indeed inappropriate," Hua Bucheng actually nodded. "After all, Mo Qingbei has long ceased to be a person of Penglai."
The moment those words were spoken, Chai Shuxin knew there was nothing left to say. The memories the Master of Ginkgo Library had left them were not wrong—Hua Bucheng’s heart-bone had indeed been severed. Otherwise, the man could not be so calm—calm as a deep lake during the Great Cold, frozen with frost, without a single ripple.
Is this what an Immortal is? Is this what "transcendence" means?
The great waves poured down, as if the world were filled with nothing but the sound of rain.
Chai Shuxin exhaled softly. He sliced his palm with the edge of his blade, letting blood coat the long sword. He held the blood-dripping blade horizontally before his brow, assuming an ancient starting stance.
Hua Bucheng was slightly stunned. "The Shihong Blade Technique? Mozi actually passed it to you?"
There was no answer, only a violent, extreme blade-wind.
Mu Gesheng was sprinting through the bamboo forest.
He had previously mapped out the entire terrain of Penglai and calculated the position of every formation node in advance. First, he ran a large circle around the edge of Penglai Island, using the Mountain Ghost Coins to encircle the entire island. Then, he headed to each formation node to place the tokens.
The Golden Peak, the Jade Terrace, the Tide-Watching Pavilion, the Fusang Well, the Immortal Bridge... as he stepped onto the bridge, Mu Gesheng saw snow collapsing on the distant mountain peak. Even he could feel the aftershocks.
It seemed Chai Shuxin and Hua Bucheng had already engaged, and the situation was deadlocked.
The Immortal Bridge was a cross-shaped bridge that rested against the mountains and bordered the water, with "flying beams over fish ponds." The entire bridge was built within a mountain valley, surrounded by green peaks. The bridge was extremely long, almost covering the entire valley, using the cross-axis to divide into four massive water pools.
Mu Gesheng had some impression of this place. He had heard Song Wentong mention it before; the Immortal Bridge connected the four major regions of Penglai, serving as a sort of transportation hub. But its extraordinary feature lay in the special stone used for the bridge, which allowed it to "sketch the celestial realm."
As for "sketching the celestial realm," Song Wentong had explained it to Mu Gesheng like this: "When you look down from above at night, you can see four moons reflected in the four pools."
Encompassing the sun and moon, arranging the stars—each pool contained an entire Great Thousand World.
Song Wentong hadn't been particularly interested in this wonder. Mohist techniques were numerous, and many methods could achieve this effect. The simplest way was to use light, shadow, and the reflection of the water’s surface. The most mystical explanation was: "The stone of the Immortal Bridge might be the leftovers from when Nüwa mended the heavens. Therefore, the bridge body can resonate with the sky, thus sketching the celestial realm," as Song Wentong had put it.
However, one thing was undeniable: the Immortal Bridge was built in antiquity. In Mu Gesheng’s eyes, its potential for appreciation in value was immense. It was a very expensive piece of work.
According to Mu Gesheng’s arrangement, the token to be placed at the Immortal Bridge node was Zhuque blood. But upon arriving, Mu Gesheng realized something was wrong—four pools, one drop of blood per pool, yet he only had three drops of Zhuque blood.
There were other ways, but ever since Mu Gesheng stepped onto this bridge, he clearly felt an abnormality. The smell here was wrong.
Penglai Island was an immortal mountain upon the sea, a blessed land. The entire island breathed in the essence of heaven and earth, and its spiritual veins were extremely clear. Although Mu Gesheng didn't practice cultivation, he had perceptions beyond ordinary people. The spiritual energy of the entire island flowed freely, except at the Immortal Bridge.
Something was blocked here.
Mu Gesheng narrowed his eyes, roughly guessing what the problem was. He had likely found the core of Hua Bucheng’s refining furnace.
Along the way, Mu Gesheng hadn't seen a single Penglai disciple. If his guess was correct, perhaps everyone had been thrown into these four pools. These were four mass graves.
The ancients said that a general’s success is built on ten thousand rotting bones; who knew cultivation was played the same way? What was the difference between an immortal built on the bones of the living and a vengeful ghost?
Mu Gesheng felt a bit of pity, feeling that the Changshengzi was like a confused Monkey King who gave up Flower-Fruit Mountain to fight for the position of Protector of the Horses.
He pulled out his last Mountain Ghost Coin, cast a divination on the spot to calculate three directions, and then dripped the Zhuque blood into the pools. If he moved fast enough, those Penglai disciples inside might still be saved.
What a mess. They had clearly come to raid the house with aggressive intent, yet in the end, the bandits had to protect the owner’s personal safety and property.
Mu Gesheng sighed, shook his head, walked to the last pool, and jumped in.
Song Wentong had told him that no one in Penglai dared to jump from the Immortal Bridge. Scenery was scenery, but the rumors were too eerie; some said jumping down led to the Immortal-Slaying Terrace, where one’s entire cultivation would be destroyed.
But Mozi didn't believe in such superstitions. Besides, he didn't practice cultivation anyway. He took a spare moment and jumped down—and jumping once wasn't enough; he jumped into all four.
One was just an ordinary pool where the fish were a bit fat, nothing special—"probably the kitchen’s ingredient base." Another was likely the private warehouse of the Penglai elders, an underwater mountain with countless caves—"a bit like the Mogao Caves, with many doors that are hard to pick, but once picked, you strike it rich." Another was rather disgusting, a place Penglai used to suppress various demons and ghosts—"cleaner than the Fengdu Great Prison, but not by much."
In short, Mozi was a man of great experience. The first three weren't anything special to him, but the last one—he didn't understand it.
He only gave Mu Gesheng a vague analogy: "It’s a bit like the Water Curtain Cave."
Good grief, they really were making a Flower-Fruit Mountain. Why not throw in a Kingdom of Women while they were at it?
Mu Gesheng jumped into the pool. He held a Mountain Ghost Coin in his mouth and felt himself pass through a curtain of water.
The dampness vanished, and he stepped onto level ground.
At first, his vision was black, then it turned from dark to light as brightness appeared before his eyes.
Mu Gesheng smelled a familiar fragrance. At first, he thought it was a hallucination, but then he saw golden yellow everywhere, and his eyes slowly widened.
This was the Ginkgo Library.
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
--- | --- | ---
蓬莱 | Penglai | A legendary island/mountain in Chinese mythology, home to immortals.
白云边 | Baiyunbian | "Edge of White Clouds," a mystical lake atop Penglai.
姑妄烟杆 | Guwang Pipe | Mu Gesheng's pipe. "Guwang" comes from the phrase "Guwang yan zhi" (speaking tentatively/for what it's worth).
仙人桥 | Immortal Bridge | A cross-shaped ancient bridge in Penglai that reflects the celestial realm.
炉鼎 | Furnace / Crucible | In cultivation, a vessel for refining pills or energy; here, the entire island is used to refine souls.
长生子 | Changshengzi | "Master of Longevity," a title for the head of the Penglai sect.
罗刹子 | Luoshazi | "Master of Rakshasas," the title for the head of the Chai family.
无常子 | Wuchangzi | "Master of Impermanence," the title for the head of the Mu family/Ginkgo Library.
舐红刀术 | Shihong Blade Technique | The "Red-Licking" blade style used by the Chai family.
山鬼花钱 | Mountain Ghost Coins | Ritual coins used by Mu Gesheng for divination and magic.
朱雀 | Zhuque | The Vermilion Bird, one of the Four Auspicious Beasts.
莫倾杯 | Mo Qingbei | The previous Master of the Ginkgo Library.
松问童 | Song Wentong | The previous Mozi (head of the Mohist family).
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