Volume One: Turmoil in Yan and Yun Chapter Forty-Seven: The Pavilion of Ease (Part One)

The news that Feng Yang had become the disciple of the Master of Daoming Temple spread throughout the Divine Dynasty via the Xiaoyao Pavilion almost instantly.

The method was simple.

A new edition of the Lingyun Ranking was released.

Feng Qi ranked third, surpassed only by Zhou Zihan, the Sword Heir of Qianren Peak, and Ming Tai, the Dao Heir of Liyuan. The storyteller’s commentary read: “Ask little of the Great Dao; he rivals Li and Wei. Given time, in his realm, he will be without equal.”

The entire Divine Dynasty was thrown into an uproar. More than a dozen prefects, clutching handwritten copies of the new ranking, rushed to the Xiaoyao Pavilion, demanding accountability. But not a single one made it past the pavilion’s doors; all were stopped outside the Daoist Array.

Anyone who attacked the Daoist Array would be declaring war on the Xiaoyao Pavilion.

Without an imperial decree, no prefect dared to forcibly assault the pavilion.

Just as they were at their wits’ end, word arrived from Wuyang.

The current Divine Emperor abolished the divide between sects and noble families. Henceforth, scions of noble families could enter the sects to pursue cultivation and the Way. Should a family face collective punishment, those already in the sects, so long as they harbored no rebellious intent, could be judged on a case-by-case basis.

Only then did anyone dare look further down the list.

At seventeenth place, they found the name of the current Crown Prince.

At forty-fourth, they found Yan Weixie.

At ninety-first, they found Murong Xue.

Most astonishing of all was that Feng Yang, with only a Body Tempering cultivation, managed to make the ranking, albeit at the very bottom.

But the greatest surprise was the storyteller’s evaluation of Feng Yang:

“Excellent talent, deep fortune. Accepted as a disciple by the Master of Daoming Temple atop Tai Xuan Mountain, one day he will surely break the Curse of the Ten Absolutes and forge a legend.”

There were ninety-nine people ahead of him, yet scarcely a handful received such praise... the storyteller’s assessment of him was nearly on par with those in the top ten!

Even Murong Xue could not help but feel a twinge of jealousy.

“Don’t be upset. When I stopped you from joining the Wind and Sand Festival, it was because I feared you’d run into Yang.”

Murong Xue asked, “You think I’m no match for him?”

Feng Qi thought for a moment before replying, “In terms of strength, you are indeed stronger than he is now.”

Murong Xue looked pleased.

Feng Qi shook his head, thinking that if he spoke the full truth, it would only bring trouble.

At that moment, Luo Xing suddenly interjected, “In terms of strength, as a prodigy at the peak of Hunyuan, you’re naturally stronger than the Second Young Master. But you lack the tempering of life and death. If you were to truly fight, you would not be his match.”

Murong Xue turned to look at her and gave a slight nod.

—

Luo Xing was unfazed, replying calmly, “I know the young lord well; I only voiced what he left unsaid.”

Feng Qi was momentarily taken aback, quickly turning his head and urging the Fire Cloud Colt to move further away from the carriage.

Murong Xue noticed Feng Qi’s behavior, raised an eyebrow, but did not pursue the matter further. Instead, she continued her questioning, “And you?”

Luo Xing said, “I am but a constable. I have little interest in the Great Dao.”

Murong Xue pressed, “I mean, in your opinion—who is stronger?”

Luo Xing’s expression remained unchanged. “Having known the Second Young Master since youth, naturally I place my faith in him.”

Murong Xue frowned slightly and asked nothing more.

She did not believe that Feng Yang could cross an entire major realm and defeat her, but neither did she believe the Master of Daoming Temple would accept a mediocre youth as a disciple.

If he were not extraordinary, how could he have caught such a discerning eye?

With this in mind, she recalled Feng Yang more clearly.

Well-read, courteous, gentle and refined... now it seemed he must also be astoundingly talented.

The current generation of the Feng family—how did it produce so many prodigies?

No wonder her father worried about them.

—

Before long, they reached North Xiang City. Feng Qi and his entourage found an ordinary inn to rest.

The Fire Cloud Colt was tireless; even at double its current speed, it could run from Yan Yun all the way to Wuyang.

But not all horses in the convoy were Fire Cloud Colts. If they kept pushing on, the lesser horses would die of exhaustion.

After tying up the Fire Cloud Colt, Feng Qi left the inn.

Luo Xing and Murong Xue accompanied him. Feng Qi and Murong Xue intended to visit the Xiaoyao Pavilion. Traditionally, the Lingyun Ranking was only updated after the Daoist Conference. Yet this time, it had changed prematurely—they wanted to know why. As for Luo Xing, Feng Qi could not guess her reasons.

This woman was always enigmatic.

The Xiaoyao Pavilion in North Xiang City was not difficult to find. Though still tucked away in an alley in the eastern district, its fame made it easy to distinguish from ordinary shops.

Feng Qi pushed open the half-closed double wooden doors and, seeing the two peach trees in the courtyard, raised his eyebrows.

“A change of style?” he chuckled.

Murong Xue replied, “I passed through North Xiang once and visited. Back then, it hadn’t changed.”

Feng Qi was puzzled. According to the records, the style of the Xiaoyao Pavilion had never changed since its founding.

“Nothing unusual about it. Ancient cypresses are too somber—peach trees are far more vibrant,” someone suddenly said nearby. “Young lord, I have been waiting here for you.”

Feng Qi turned to see a somewhat unkempt middle-aged man.

His hair was loose, his long robe was faded and patched, and under his arm he carried a blue-covered book with the faint words “Dao Yuan” upon it.

Feng Qi asked, “And you are?”

The man replied, “Second-class Scribe of the Xiaoyao Pavilion, Shui Dongliu.”

The ranks within the Xiaoyao Pavilion were threefold: Scribe, Inkmaster, and Storyteller.

Scribes were divided into three classes, Inkmaster into two levels, and there was only one Storyteller.

A second-class Scribe might not have read the entire Daoist Canon, but his knowledge far surpassed most in the world; as for secrets, he was among the top one percent.

The Xiaoyao Pavilion thrived on secrets.

“So, it’s another secret,” Feng Qi said with a touch of irony. “I wonder what the price of this secret might be?”

Shui Dongliu did not deny it. “There is always a price; it just depends how much you wish to know.”

Feng Qi said, “I am not particularly interested in this matter, but I’ve heard someone here has a fondness for peach blossoms...”

Shui Dongliu cut him off. “This concerns the former emperor. You would do well to show respect.”

Feng Qi thought, they say the Xiaoyao Pavilion is the most loyal organization under the Divine Dynasty. Turns out, it’s true.

Shui Dongliu continued, “Did you come to ask about Bohai?”

“Did my father tell you?” Feng Qi asked.

“No,” Shui Dongliu replied.

Feng Qi frowned.

“The Storyteller himself issued a decree, asking me to pass on a message to you.” Shui Dongliu leaned in and lowered his voice: “All blossoms are to return to the Eastern Sea.”

—