Chapter 025: Ning Yu

The summer in the Guhe Mountains was sweltering, with lush vegetation and dense, verdant foliage. Among the rolling peaks, Chongdan Mountain stood as the tallest, perpetually wreathed in clouds and mist. The mountain was plagued by miasma and complex terrain; seven or eight out of every ten people who entered were destined to lose their way, never to return. Strangely, unlike the sharp, jagged peaks of the surrounding ranges, the summit of this mountain appeared flat from a distance. Consequently, the local people revered it as a sacred mountain, claiming it was the dwelling place of the Metal God and refusing to allow anyone to ascend lightly.

Yet, at the foot of Chongdan Mountain, the atmosphere was unexpectedly bustling. The seven or eight small towns surrounding the mountain were overflowing with people, with Ningyu, the largest of them, being the most crowded. For days, every inn in Ningyu had been fully booked, and the innkeepers were so harried they barely had a moment to catch their breath, unable to keep up even after hiring several rounds of extra help.

If one asked for the reason, the locals were unsure; they only knew that the newcomers were all powerful figures capable of riding the clouds, seemingly drawn there to capture a white deer.

"Ye Minwei’s white deer nightmare beast has been lingering in the Chongdan Mountains for half a month now. I heard it was spotted in the west just yesterday. Now, every immortal sect has dispatched people to cast a net from which there is no escape. I reckon the beast will certainly be captured this time."

The bearded diner in the tavern spoke with a hearty tone. His facial hair was thick, while his companion was a tall man with a bald head that shone brightly under the sunlight. The bald man clicked his tongue in wonder, gesturing with his chin toward the disciples of various sects walking along the street.

"That is by no means certain. Which of these immortal sects doesn't have its own secret agenda? Can they truly work together in harmony? There is bound to be chaos when the time comes."

"Surely they wouldn't turn on each other and fight?"

"Why not? That is Ye Minwei’s nightmare beast! The secrets to spiritual artifacts and the Cang crystals are all contained within it, not to mention it possesses Ye Minwei’s peerless cultivation. Whoever obtains it can dominate the world. Such a treasure is worth tearing off the mask of civility to seize."

The bearded man chuckled with a sense of schadenfreude. "The three great sects have governed the immortal world for so long; the tides are about to turn! You say, Master Ceyu of the Fuguang Sect is truly composed, isn't he? He has been in seclusion for so many years, yet he hasn't stepped out for a matter of such magnitude."

"Indeed. Among the three great sects, Vice-Master Zhen of the Xiaoyao Gate has arrived, and the Baiyun Que, though severely weakened by Lin Xuegeng previously, has still managed to send two protectors, two deacons, and over a dozen inner-sect disciples. Look at the Fuguang Sect; to this day, they haven't sent a single person of note. One wonders if Ce Yin has divined something and they have other plans."

"Didn't Ce Yin say he could no longer divine Ye Minwei’s path?"

"And you believe him..."

As the two men held court in the tavern, a grand procession of servants in brown robes marched down the street, surrounding a young man in purple. The man had clear, refined features, a purple ribbon hanging from his wooden crown, and a purple jade pendant carved with trailing grape patterns at his waist, with the words "Purple Clouds Coming from the East" engraved on his back.

The bald man said with a hint of sarcasm, "This junior from the Lingjin Pavilion is certainly high-profile. I hear he is the youngest among the current nightmare cultivators, with a level of power rivaling centenarian masters. He uses the Thread-Control Technique to parade his puppets through the streets, as if terrified that people might not notice him."

"I heard that half a month ago, at Qingyang Ferry, a spiritual bandit used a Thread-Control artifact and caused quite a stir. Isn't the Lingjin Pavilion investigating that?"

"They've long since lost interest. Once Ye Minwei’s nightmare beast appeared, who cares about that? Everyone knows what holds more weight. Remember how much of a commotion the Nightmare Master Alliance caused earlier? Miss Xie was lost, the spiritual bandit and Su Zhaoqing ran off—look at how few people mention that now."

"The world is chaotic enough as it is, and everyone is spinning in confusion. I wonder if the Heavenly City has sent anyone. Ye Minwei has descended from the mountain as well; I fear things will only grow more chaotic."

"What does Ye Minwei matter now? She has no memory and no cultivation—a mere mortal who couldn't even beat the likes of us. Having descended the mountain, she is only fit to be manipulated. What kind of waves could she possibly stir up?"

The two continued their rambling chatter. The various travelers in the tavern had been discussing nothing else for days.

It was strange; although the nightmare beast was Ye Minwei’s creation, shaped by her own memories and essence, she was now spoken of by everyone as if she were the least qualified person in the world to possess it.

Zhuo Yilang, the Lingjin Pavilion disciple they were discussing, looked straight ahead, indifferent to the gazes of passersby. With his chin slightly raised, he strolled leisurely among his puppet servants.

"Zhuo Yilang!" A clear voice rang out. The puppet at the very end of the procession turned its head, revealing a beautiful woman standing by the roadside, wearing a golden robe adorned with sun patterns.

Zhuo Yilang turned back and replied, "Xie Yuxiang?"

Xie Yuxiang stepped forward to walk by his side, teasing, "I heard people talking about some wealthy young master parading through the streets with a crowd of servants, and I guessed it was you. You manipulate so many people even while walking—aren't you afraid your uncle will scold you for being so flashy?"

Zhuo Yilang frowned, looking deeply annoyed. "The Thread-Control Technique is a subtle art; it requires constant manipulation to maintain the feel, or one will regress. My uncle is simply too cautious. People have mouths, let them say what they want."

Xie Yuxiang laughed, as if his answer was exactly what she expected. She asked, "What of the spiritual bandit who stole the Thread-Control Technique? I heard he is wreaking havoc in Jizhou. How is his technique?"

"I had just picked up the trail when I received my uncle’s orders to rush here. However, based on the traces he left behind, the Thread-Control Technique in that artifact is far too crude. If people were to think that was the Lingjin Pavilion’s technique, it would be a disgrace to us. Spiritual veins are meant to circulate within the human body. Ye Minwei defied the laws of heaven by carving spiritual veins into plants and stones; it is ultimately like trying to paint a tiger and ending up with a dog—not only clumsy but inviting disaster."

As they conversed and walked, the sun burned hot and the streets were noisy. A group of children ran past the puppet servants, singing a nursery rhyme.

"Three people walking, seventy remain; five plum blossoms, twenty-one branches; seven children united, exactly half a month; divide by one hundred and five, and you shall know."

Their voices were crisp. Carrying candied hawthorns and freshly picked marigolds, they chased each other through the crowd, laughing and playing.

A little girl, not paying attention, bumped directly into Xie Yuxiang. The marigolds in her arms fell to the ground, and her candied hawthorn dropped into the dirt, ruined.

She immediately sat on the ground and began to wail. The group of children instantly surrounded Xie Yuxiang, chattering and pulling at her to pay for the hawthorn, surprisingly united for their young age.

Xie Yuxiang squatted down and pulled a few copper coins from her pocket, waving them in front of the children. "I don't mind paying, but do you even know what that Sun Zi chant you were singing means?"

The little girl, who looked to be only seven or eight, stared at her blankly. An older boy beside her answered, "It’s a math problem."

"Exactly." Xie Yuxiang placed the coins in the boy's hand and continued, "Then, if I change the numbers in the chant: A number of objects is unknown; divided by seven, the remainder is two; divided by eight, the remainder is four; divided by nine, the remainder is three. What is the number? Whoever gets it right, I will buy them a whole stick of candied hawthorns."

The children beside the little girl looked at each other and then scurried away, disappearing into the crowd.

Zhuo Yilang sighed, looking somewhat helpless. "Yuxiang, you always love to make things difficult for others. Why pick on children? You’re testing them with the Guigu Suan—how could they possibly solve it?"

"Why not let Yilang solve it for them? It's just math."

"I cannot solve it. When it comes to arithmetic, who can compare to your Fuguang Sect..."

"One hundred and fifty-six." A youthful, slightly hesitant voice interrupted Zhuo Yilang.

Xie Yuxiang and Zhuo Yilang turned around to see the children who had just run off returning. The boy who had led them answered loudly.

Both Xie Yuxiang and Zhuo Yilang were stunned, staring at the child in silence. The child’s expression grew uncertain, and he asked tentatively, "Is... is it right?"

"Yes, it is." Xie Yuxiang placed a piece of silver in the child's hand, surprised. "Who taught you that?"

His face lit up with joy, and he shouted, "I won't tell you!"

The boy was quite spirited; true to his word, he took the silver and dashed off with his friends, cheering as they ran to buy their candied hawthorns. Xie Yuxiang stood up, and she and Zhuo Yilang watched as the children disappeared into the crowd. Zhuo Yilang asked in confusion, "Has Senior Xunshuang arrived?"

Xie Yuxiang was puzzled. "No."

"Aside from him and Daoist Ce Yin, is there anyone else in the world who could calculate the Guigu Suan so quickly?"

Xie Yuxiang shook her head. "At least, I have never seen it."

"It seems some high-level experts have come to Ningyu Town after all..."

At that moment, near a quiet courtyard a few corners away, someone was focused on drawing on the ground.

Marigolds of varying heights bloomed on both sides of the road. Beside her stood a weeping willow, its emerald branches casting a vast, cooling shadow. Yet, she squatted in the sunlight just outside the shadow. Her white hair was dazzling, and she clutched her knees, holding a tree branch in her other hand. The patch of yellow earth surrounding her was already covered in all sorts of strange symbols and numbers.

She seemed to live entirely in her own world.

This was a place where children usually played, and soon the noise returned. The children, having successfully bought their treats, ran back laughing and cheering. One stick of candied hawthorn was handed to her.

"Granny, you calculated it right! This is your share!"

She did not look up, continuing to draw on the ground.

The child thought she hadn't realized what was happening and said, "It was that problem—divided by seven, remainder two; divided by eight, remainder four; divided by nine, remainder three..."

She raised her head, her dark gray eyes looking at him and then at the candied hawthorn in his hand, as if she had only just understood his words.

"Do you have dried persimmons?"

Her voice was not aged; it was remarkably young and pleasant.

"No, only candied hawthorns," the child answered honestly.

She seemed a little disappointed, put down the branch, and took the hawthorn from his hand, eating it slowly. A sugar-coated hawthorn cracked in her mouth, making a crisp sound between her teeth. Despite her white hair, her teeth were still in excellent condition.

The child watched her for a while and asked curiously, "Granny, what are you doing here?"

She raised her hand and pointed to the man lying on the stone steps beneath the weeping willow. The man was asleep deep in the shadows, his arms pillowing his head. His skin was fair, his features exquisite, and the bells in his hair were covered by fallen petals.

His body was covered in the marigolds the children had playfully placed upon him, as if he were draped in a golden river.

"Waiting for him to wake up," she answered peacefully.