A noble spirit is meant to be vast and magnificent.
Qin Jiuye truly could not fathom why the person who named this place had bestowed the title "Hao-ran"—Noble Spirit—upon such a cramped and narrow cavern.
The dark, winding grotto seemed to have no end. Without a guide familiar with the terrain, one would easily become lost within its depths. Perhaps this was why the imperial court had chosen this place as a prison for death row inmates; an isolated island combined with a labyrinthine cave made escape an impossible dream.
Following the flickering lantern held by the young servant, Qin Jiuye kept her head down and her pace steady, her mind drifting back to the scene before they crossed the floating bridge.
In the entire martial world, only one establishment could be graced with the title "The Villa," and only one man could call himself its Master: Di Mo, the Master of the World’s Number One Villa.
To the people of the current martial world, a summons from the Villa Master was no different from an imperial decree from the Emperor himself. However, while an audience with the Emperor might bring either fortune or calamity, the current situation—Di Mo demanding to see Qiu Ling—boded nothing but ill.
She could see the situation clearly, and Qiu Ling undoubtedly did as well.
Yet, the servant in the bamboo hat seemed to anticipate their thoughts. He had smiled and produced a thin slip of paper from his sleeve, respectfully handing it to Qiu Ling. The moment she saw the expression on Qiu Ling’s face, she knew this was a journey he had to take.
Not wishing to make things difficult for him, she followed without a word. Along the way, her mind was rife with speculation. Although Qiu Ling had the backing of Kunxu, and Di Mo likely wouldn't dare strike him openly even if he had designs on him, she remained vigilant. As she walked, she memorized every fork in the path, preparing herself for a swift retreat at any moment.
The light was dim, the atmosphere oppressive. No one spoke; only the sound of footsteps echoed against the damp rock walls.
After another fifteen minutes of this endurance, the figure leading them finally stopped.
Qin Jiuye looked up and found herself in the center of a circular cavern. The air was thick with swirling mist and rolling heat. To one side lay a natural spring where hot and cold currents met; on the opposite side, a massive fissure split the rock.
It was a natural "Thread of Sky" within the mountain, a gap just wide enough for one person to pass through, yet so long that its end was lost in shadow. A single glance was enough to make one feel suffocated.
Though named the Hao-ran Grotto, there was not a trace of noble spirit here. Upon entering, one felt only a stifling heaviness. The dense moisture refused to dissipate, leaving the walls slick with beads of water, as if the very stones could be wrung like a sponge.
Qin Jiuye withdrew her gaze as the villa disciple dressed as a servant spoke.
"The Villa Master wishes to see Lord Duan-yu alone. I must ask this lady to wait here for a moment."
"She came with me. Where I am, she is," Qiu Ling’s voice rang out coldly. His right hand never left the hilt of the sword at his waist.
The disciple continued to smile, but his bamboo hat obscured his eyes, making the curve of his lips look chilling.
"It is common knowledge that Lord Duan-yu is upright, loyal, and sincere. Seeing you today, it is indeed true." The man paused, shifting his gaze to Qin Jiuye. "It may be that the Longshu region is too humid and hot, for the Villa Master has been suffering from headaches lately. He is currently holding on by the strength of his medicine, waiting for you. I heard this lady boarded a boat yesterday to treat Master Yuan Qi of the Fangwai Sect, achieving instant results. If she were to accompany you and personally attend to the Villa Master..."
From the moment she saw that familiar smile, Qin Jiuye had felt a familiar unease. By the time he finished his sentence, that unease had hardened into reality.
This was no invitation; it was a blatant threat.
"There is no need. Seeing me is enough," Qiu Ling interjected sharply. The disciple smiled and fell silent.
Qin Jiuye’s expression was complex, her worry deepening.
This Di Mo clearly knew her every move by the shores of Lixin Lake yesterday. He had anticipated Qiu Ling’s refusal and had every move prepared in advance, placing his pieces with terrifying precision. This level of calculating depth far exceeded her perception of a mere martial arts leader.
*Worrying about every little grain of sesame and mung bean... no wonder your head hurts,* she thought bitterly.
Being under someone else's roof, she had no choice but to bow her head. Qin Jiuye could only vent her frustration internally.
Qiu Ling had already taken three steps toward the crevice when he stopped for some reason and turned back.
His face was heavy with thought. In his green robes, he looked like a lone cypress standing beneath a cold moon atop a solitary peak. Frost, snow, and freezing winds ravaged its body day and night, leaving a silent stillness in every leaf after a voiceless scream.
Qin Jiuye understood his inner conflict. Di Mo must have used some private matter to leverage him—something likely related to the Qiu family. As a member of the Qiu clan, he had to go, but he did not want to drag her into it. Leaving her alone in this den of vipers was the last thing he wanted.
Thinking of this, Qin Jiuye quickly tapped the jade pendant at her waist and spoke in a low voice before he could.
"Don't be afraid, San-lang. I'll wait for you out here."
He had intended to comfort her, only to be reassured by her instead.
Qiu Ling paused, the heavy shadow on his face finally lightening slightly. He nodded with a small smile.
"Alright."
After that single word, he did not dare look at her again. He turned and stepped into the endless stone fissure.
After an unknown amount of time, the narrow passage finally ended. The guiding disciple bowed and withdrew, leaving Qiu Ling alone in a stone chamber.
Compared to the cavern with the hot spring, this chamber seemed much smaller. A stream of hot water flowed from a crack in the wall, merging into a natural underground river within the room. Thick mist lingered, refusing to clear. A few lonely torch stands stood around the perimeter, their flames rendered hazy and ambiguous by the vapor. There was a strange, pungent odor in the air.
Qiu Ling’s gaze eventually settled on the nearest torch stand.
The torches in this room were different from those he had seen along the way. They were supported by wooden frames, with dry grass neatly prepared at the base for kindling. The torches themselves were much longer than usual, about five or six feet, made of dried reeds wrapped tightly in hay. This type of torch could burn from end to end and was a common method used in the military for signal fires.
Whether it was the narrow passage that allowed only one person at a time or the vision-obscuring mist in this chamber, it all reminded him of the strategic deployments used when an army builds a camp—setting up watchtowers and digging pit-traps to secure one's position and stifle the enemy.
These details might seem like mere cautious habits of a wanderer, but only someone with insider knowledge could see that they were the thoughts of a military man.
Qiu Ling narrowed his eyes, trying to pierce the thick mist to lock onto the figure within.
It was a middle-aged man of modest stature, his temples already graying. He sat with his back to Qiu Ling in the center of the chamber, seemingly busy with something. He did not turn even when he heard the movement, acting as if he were in a deserted land. The firelight cast his flickering shadow against the four stone walls, making the entire grotto seem haunted by ghosts.
After a moment, the man seemed to finish his task. He slowly turned his head to look over.
Di Mo, the Master of the World’s Number One Villa, who usually appeared in a mask, had chosen to show his face today. Yet, that face was utterly unremarkable; even if one saw it several times, one might not recognize it in a crowd. At this moment, the object in his hand was neither a saber nor a sword, but a newly made torch, identical to the ones arranged around the room. Scraps of dried reed lay scattered at his feet, and bits of grass clung to his trousers, indicating he had been working here for some time.
The master of the martial world, alone in a dark room, hand-binding kindling—this scene was far more eerie than the ghostly shadows on the walls.
Qiu Ling withdrew his gaze and, after a moment's thought, performed a martial salute.
"Qiu Ling of the Kunxu Sect greets the Villa Master."
Di Mo did not move, his gaze still appraising him. After a moment, he spoke.
"I heard that Lord Duan-yu did not bring anyone from the Villa with him onto the island today. Are you dissatisfied with the attendant chosen for you? But thinking on it, many years have indeed passed since you descended from Mount Qingzhong. If you are bored of her, simply send her back to the Villa and choose another who suits your heart."
"I am accompanied by adjutants and soldiers; there is no need for the Villa Master to trouble himself," Qiu Ling said, pulling the thin slip of paper from his sleeve and cutting straight to the point. "May I ask the Villa Master why a secret letter sent by Zuo Ci, the Black Moon Army’s camp occultist, is in your hands?"
"Most rumors about you in the martial world are ethereal and vague; I never took them to heart. But in the military, you were always famous for your steady nature and meticulous thoughts. I didn't expect to find such an impatient man today." Di Mo’s voice was unhurried, clearly not intending to answer the question immediately. "It is not easy for me to see you. The night is long, and the kindling is plenty. Why not sit and talk slowly?"
As he spoke, he gestured for Qiu Ling to come forward.
Qiu Ling followed the gesture and saw an inconspicuous folding stool beside Di Mo. It turned out Di Mo was not sitting on the ground but on another such stool, his posture very practiced.
This type of folding stool originated from the nomadic *huchuang* of the Lanqi people. Capital nobles rarely used them, but they were favored by military men; they could be hung on the side of a horse during a march and were very convenient to use.
Combined with what he had just seen, Qiu Ling had some guesses about the man’s identity, but he remained standing.
"Since the Villa Master used this letter as bait to lure me here, you should know that I only came to clarify this matter. If the Villa Master has no intention of explaining and only wishes to find an excuse for idle chatter, I shall take my leave."
He turned back toward the narrow crevice.
The next moment, accompanied by several heavy coughs, Di Mo’s voice echoed hollowly behind him.
"I expected your father would be unable to keep the appointment, which is why you were sent instead. I, too, have little time left. That I can meet you today is thanks to the hot springs of Qionghu Island. Why be so stingy with your time toward a man with one foot in the grave?"
The departing footsteps finally stopped. The young man in green slowly turned around.
"You knew my father?"
Di Mo did not answer immediately, only raising his eyelids to look at the stool opposite him.
Qiu Ling hesitated for a moment before walking over and sitting down.
The Villa Master, his coughing subsided, looked up, his gaze slowly sweeping over him.
"You aren't wearing the Moon Armor today. If you were, I might have been able to adjust it for you. Your armor was forged by your father in the Wuqi Great Camp, modeled after the physique of his nineteen-year-old personal guard. He intended to give it to you as a gift for your capping ceremony. Looking at your current build, it must be somewhat ill-fitting. The Moon Armor is unlike ordinary armor; adjustments require dismantling the rings in sequence. The crescent-shaped locks cast from black iron would be difficult to source now..."
His tone was gentle, as if he were discussing a mundane family matter. But to the listener, it was as jarring as a golden blade scraping against iron.
The last time Qiu Ling had heard the words "Moon Armor" was from Qin Jiuye.
But even she did not understand the Moon Armor to this extent, nor did she know the details of the armor his father had intended for him so clearly.
The man had struck his vital points repeatedly, as if he had long ago seen through everything about him in silence. Yet Qiu Ling knew almost nothing of him, not even the true purpose of this summons.
He truly disliked this feeling of the enemy being in the shadows while he was in the light.
"Who exactly are you?"
Di Mo’s voice was cut off. He paused for a moment before slowly raising his head.
"Who do you think I am?"
The firelight danced on all sides. Qiu Ling stared fixedly at the man’s face, shifting between light and shadow, but felt only a sense of strangeness.
Di Mo, Master of the World’s Number One Villa, possessed an utterly ordinary shell.
The passage of time and years of constant calculation had left this shell gray and wrinkled. Yet the light that occasionally flickered in those eyes suggested that deep within this shell hid a soul flickering like a ghost-fire—manic, profound, and terrifying to behold. The light seemed like a setting sun that had long since vanished from the body, leaving an indelible chill in his expression, much like this dark and damp stone chamber.
"You are a veteran of the Black Moon Army."
As Qiu Ling finished speaking, his sharp eyes narrowed, not missing a single flicker of expression on the other man's face.
"Correct. Then do you know where the 'Black' in Black Moon comes from? Or rather... where the 'Mo' in my name comes from?"
Qiu Ling’s eyes shifted. After a long silence, he spoke slowly.
"The 'Moon' refers to the heart-protecting armor—radiant and pure, indestructible and steadfast. The 'Black' refers to the black iron used to forge that armor—unbreakable by axes, ring linked to ring, inseparable and tight."
Di Mo nodded. Fragmented shadows of the past flashed in his eyes, only to be extinguished quickly.
"In the Black Moon Army of old, there were Four Gentlemen. General Qiu Yuebai was the leader, with the 'Ghost Physician' occultist Zuo Ci following at his side. The other two were rarely mentioned. One was the saber-man Li Qingdao, whose movements were erratic and who rarely appeared in the Black Moon. As for the second... almost no one outside the Black Moon knew his true identity. But you were born in the Qiu Manor; you must have heard your father mention him. Tell me, who was that man?"
Even though he had already guessed the man’s identity, hearing those names spoken aloud caused Qiu Ling’s heart to skip a beat.
The Black Moon’s Vice-General, Wen Dimuo. Nominally from the Wen family of the Western Arts, his true origins were unknown. He appeared in the army one day, and years later, he left overnight, leaving his seal behind. It turned out he was actually Di Mo—a man of foreign descent who was highly favored by the late Emperor, known for his ruthlessness and conduct that rivaled the cruel officials of previous dynasties.
He was one of the Four Gentlemen of the Black Moon. He was his father’s right hand and his father’s close friend.
But from the day the Black Moon was struck from the records, he had never heard any news of the other three. Not just those three—almost all the old friends and relatives who had been close to the Qiu family vanished from his world overnight. Those who had once held his hand, made bamboo horses for him, and taught him to recognize the stars became mere spectators atop the high walls of the capital, watching with pity as his father walked into that stone city to become a prisoner.
His first taste of the coldness of the world and the fickleness of human nature began then.
In his youth, he had desperately longed for news and greetings from the past. But during the long wait, those hopes had turned into deep-seated disappointment. Now, someone suddenly appeared as an old friend, speaking of the past with a look of regret. He no longer felt moved or nostalgic; he only found it all absurd and laughable.
His hands clenched into fists on his knees. When Qiu Ling spoke again, his voice was so calm it betrayed no emotion.
"It has been years since the Black Moon was disbanded, and the gates of the Qiu Manor have stood in Jiu-gao City for just as long. General Wen’s legs are sound and his mind is clear, yet you did not come to acknowledge us then. Why wait until now to say these things? What is it you truly seek? Let us stop talking in circles."
The young man’s expression grew colder and harder. He used the bearing he had forged on the battlefield and in the camps to face the man before him, which momentarily reminded him of that distant time in the ranks.
Di Mo lowered his gaze, sitting motionless for a while. Finally, he reached out and moved a wooden box from behind him to the space between them, his expression tinged with a sigh.
"Inviting you here tonight was not to ask you to do anything for me, but to give you a choice." He spoke as he lightly brushed his deformed knuckles over the unadorned wooden box. "The decision your father made back then buried the Black Moon Army with his own hands. But broken sabers can be reforged, and torn robes can be rewoven. Now, a new opportunity lies before you. Whether to revive the Black Moon Army depends entirely on your choice."
Qiu Ling’s gaze fell upon the wooden box. Waves rose in the depths of his usually calm eyes.
He did not know what was inside the box, but based on his understanding of the man before him, it was not hard to guess. It was something far more destructive than the old history of the Black Moon or the truth of Juchao—something sufficient to shake the judgments of right and wrong written by the late Emperor’s iron pen.
Such a thing could not be plotted overnight, or the man would not have struggled until now. That he could speak so openly meant he was seventy to eighty percent prepared.
But the most terrifying fact for Qiu Ling was this: he truly had harbored this thought. In the dead of night, he would uncontrollably fantasize about that day arriving.
If uncovering the truth of Juchao and restoring justice to the Black Moon was the mission he was currently staking everything on, then being able to pick up the name "Black Moon" again was his humble, unspeakable wish.
And he had reason to believe the man before him had guessed exactly this, which was why he was so confident in calling him to this stone chamber for a secret talk.
From this moment on, the person standing before him was no longer a living man, but a demon from hell. This demon had already seen through his soul and was using the thing he craved most to lure him into a deal from which there was no turning back.
He had to hold his ground. He could not show even a hint of wavering, or everything would spiral out of control.
Qiu Ling focused his mind, refusing to look at the wooden box.
"My father chose to surrender the tiger tally to repay the blood debt of the innocents at Juchao."
A soft snort escaped Di Mo’s lips.
His tone was contemptuous, yet his expression held no satisfaction, only endless hatred in his eyes.
"Was it worth it? Was everything he did worth it? How many in Xiang-liang today still remember the battle of Juchao? How many still think of the name 'Black Moon'? You know better than anyone—in a few more years, when he breathes his last, not a single person in the capital will even remember his name."
The demon’s hook fell, ruthlessly striking the heart of the Qiu descendant, refusing to let go.
But the latter did not yield easily, striking back tenaciously.
"The 'revival' the Villa Master speaks of is nothing more than creating a puppet named Black Moon. But the name Black Moon was forged from the blood and iron of countless heroic souls. Even as a descendant of the Black Moon, I have no right to make decisions for them. I have no such intention; the Villa Master need not try to persuade me further..."
"If you have no such intention, why have you spent these years in the military visiting retired soldiers from every camp of the Juchao battle to collect their journals? Why, after hearing of the Lu Mansion massacre, did you abandon a bright career to go to the capital as a Supervisor to investigate? And why do you still keep that set of Moon Armor that no one recognizes and no longer fits you?"
Di Mo’s questions echoed in the chamber, and the man before him fell into a long silence.
The questioner let the silence spread and vibrate for a long time before speaking again.
"Whether a matter yields a result is often not decided by the process, but by who makes the decision. I can tell you the truth right now, but what you want is not just the truth—you want justice. And whether in the name of Kunxu or the General of the South’s Manor, the justice you seek will never have a result."
If Zhou Yaxian’s words that day had been a basin of cold water in winter, using a bone-chilling cold to remind the young Supervisor of the treacherous road ahead, then Di Mo’s words were a piece of coal pressed against his heart, using the pain of burning flesh to tell him that everything he did was in vain.
But the people of the General of the South’s Manor had the right to dissuade him; his father had the right to dissuade him; the soldiers who chose to follow him had the right to dissuade him. Only the man before him had no such right.
Scenes from the past flashed before his eyes, and Qiu Ling’s usually calm gaze ignited with anger.
"Since you know why the Black Moon was implicated back then, why are you letting everything repeat itself now? You simply want to use the name Black Moon to clear a path for yourself. My father decided to let the name Black Moon die because he did not want it to become a tool for those who play with power!"
A conversation of bared blades and drawn blood was destined to happen in this stone chamber today. Qiu Ling’s words were the declaration of conflict.
The sons of the Qiu family were all like this. Even with cold, stern faces, the blood of a loyal and righteous military family flowed in their veins. This blood was easily ignited. If one wished to use it, one had to be constantly wary of being burned.
Di Mo lowered his eyelids.
"If I said the matter of the secret formula was not my doing, would you believe me?"
Qiu Ling sneered. "Does the Villa Master dare to say he knew nothing of it?"
"I can assist you to the best of my ability in the matter you are investigating. As long as you accept this wooden box."
As long as the other party accepted the contents of that box, they would become two isolated islands connected beneath the waters of the martial world. When the rising flood receded, that would be the moment they revealed themselves once more.
Qiu Ling slowly stood up, saying word for word, "On the day I took my master at Kunxu, I swore with my life that I would never be a blade in another’s hand. I unsheathe only for my own heart. This 'fine job' of yours, Villa Master, should be handed to someone else."
He turned to leave, but before he could take a step, the dry grass scattered across the floor was suddenly blown aside by a powerful gust of wind.
The withered grass flew in all directions, and the surrounding torchlight flickered violently. The pervasive mist cleared for a moment, revealing numerous small caves high up on the stone walls. In each opening crouched or stood a youth in black, like a colony of night bats perched in the cavern, clearly having watched from the darkness for a long time.
They were very young, but their movements were seasoned and lethal. That was a level of skill that could only be honed through countless lives taken. Even a mere gust from their palms carried the scent of blood.
Di Mo’s voice approached again.
"It seems that during your years at the General of the South’s Manor, you were somewhat influenced by him after all. A talent for command—how can such a person easily bow his head to another? You are not a blade, but the one who wields the blade. I want you to be the next Master of the World’s Number One Villa."
***
Qin Jiuye sneezed loudly, then looked with some confusion at the mist-shrouded pool behind her.
She wasn't sure if it was her imagination, but she thought she had caught a faint scent of pollen amidst the pungent smell of sulfur.
The scent was delicate and subtle, masked by the odor of the hot spring. Even a nose as sensitive as hers hadn't noticed it immediately.
There was still no sign of Qiu Ling returning from the end of the crevice. After waiting and waiting without any movement, Qin Jiuye decided to walk toward the pool.
Previously, the mist had obscured her view, but now that she was closer, she discovered several clusters of red lotuses about to bloom in the water.
Almost nothing grew near hot springs rich in sulfur, let alone in such scorching water. The sight of red lotuses blooming there was eerie. She looked closer and realized that someone had placed large jars containing Fudi Lotuses into the hot spring. Beneath the swirling mist, the lotuses were as red as blood, their petals layered thick. Though not yet fully open, they already possessed a beauty that could outshine all others.
When Qin Jiuye had studied herbs with her master in her early years, she had seen records of this flower in ancient texts. If she remembered correctly, this was the Fudi Lotus. The flower ranged from bright vermilion to deep crimson, its base as large as a basin and its petals as broad as an umbrella. Legend had it that it was the favorite of an ancient monarch. The king had been so obsessed that he ordered the lotus planted everywhere inside and outside the palace walls. When they were in full bloom, the vast lake looked like a sea of fire.
Later, the dynasty fell, and the new regime filled in the palace lotus ponds. These delicate and difficult-to-tend flowers nearly went extinct. A few surviving specimens drifted outside the palace, but without the careful nurturing of dedicated gardeners, they could no longer thrive. They gradually vanished from sight and memory.
Aside from being difficult to grow, there might have been another reason the lotus fell out of favor.
*Fudi* (福蒂) sounded like *Fudi* (伏帝)—"Prostrate Emperor"—implying the power to make a monarch bow his head.
A mere flower, yet it dared to dream of making a sovereign bend his knee. Perhaps that was the real reason the previous dynasty's rulers had ordered the ponds filled.
With a name like that, even if it were easy to grow, no one in the current Xiang-liang would dare plant it in their courtyard, let alone show it off. Yet the Master of the World’s Number One Villa kept these flowers by his side. How could such an act not invite speculation?
Furthermore, even for a Fudi Lotus, multi-layered petals were rare, indicating that someone had spent years of effort in cultivation and selection. But that cultivator was no lover of flowers. The high temperature had forced these lotuses to bud prematurely, ensuring they would not last long.
They would wither rapidly after blooming. This morbid beauty, achieved by exhausting their life force, made Qin Jiuye feel uneasy. She instinctively moved away from the water.
When she had been wandering beneath the Falling Crow Cliff earlier, she had noticed clues on the seeping rock walls. Now she was certain: the entire Qionghu Island sat atop geothermal activity. This was why these hot springs with their strange odors had formed, and the deposits by the springs were natural sulfur.
Sulfur?
Qin Jiuye dazed for a moment, the image of the paper packet the youth had handed her last night flashing before her eyes.
So, had he been to this island before? Was he here to kill someone or being hunted? Or was he plotting something in the shadows? And why go to the trouble of bringing her that piece of sulfur?
She had left him by the lake in a fit of anger last night, never considering whether he would be involved in tonight's events. Thinking carefully now, he had followed her at Lixin Lake for two days; he clearly had important business. Why would he suddenly withdraw on the third day? So, would he be here tonight? What exactly was he doing? And would he be in danger...
He had lied to her for months, yet here she was, wavering because of a small packet of sulfur.
A self-mocking smile touched the corners of Qin Jiuye’s mouth. Just as she was about to turn around, a soft, seductive voice suddenly rang out.
"It seems one really shouldn't be lazy. Walking around truly brings unexpected rewards."
Qin Jiuye froze. After a long pause, she spoke slowly.
"Sect Leader Zhu."
A few paces away, at the entrance of the grotto, Zhu Fuxue was looking at her with a beaming smile.
***
