Chapter 177: One Hundred and Eighty-Four: Red Beans Most Long for Love, Red Robes Most Devoutly Affectionate

One Hundred and Eighty-Four: Red Beans Most Long for Love, Red Robes Most Devoutly Affectionate

"Could she be a nameless Lady of the Lady's Hall? But she's so young..." The old swordsmith took a deep sip of wine and murmured.

"Nameless Lady?" Liu Liu Zian asked, a look of interest crossing his face. The old swordsmith glanced at him:

"The Lady's Hall is the ancestral hall of Lady Yunmeng Sword Marsh. The Yue women who enter are called Ladies by outsiders—full title, Nameless Lady—because once inside, they must abandon all worldly identities and pasts, including their names.

"Then, within the ancestral hall, they pluck one of the ancestral plaques and choose a title to replace their original name.

"Every generation of Lady's Hall members follows this, so some special titles have been passed down for nearly a thousand years, claimed by successive Nameless Ladies.

"The Yue women who enter the Lady's Hall are never easy to provoke—either they're the direct disciples of the previous Lady, or prodigies of extraordinary talent, or the current Yue virgin found somewhere in Wu and Yue.

"For the last category, entry into the Lady's Hall is unconditional; they inherit the ancestral plaque titled 'Lady Yue Chuzi,' holding a transcendent status as the first heir to Lady Yunmeng Sword Marsh's Yunmeng Yuanjun.

"As for other Nameless Ladies, each within the Lady's Hall bears her own unique title.

"In the Tiannan Jianghu, some idle gossipers once compiled a list of all titles ever carried by Ladies from the Lady's Hall, old and new, and even recorded some of their deeds in the mortal world—it became quite popular in taverns across the Tiannan Jianghu...

"Heh, mainly because the Yue women of Lady Yunmeng Sword Marsh dwell deep within the nine-hundred-li Lady Yunmeng Marsh, secluded and apart; the Lady's Hall is too mysterious, and those few, noble Lady Yunmeng Ladies are like dragons glimpsed only in flashes.

"This sect is also universally recognized as the ancestral temple of sword arts, where sword cultivation has long been dominated by a small group of female cultivators. The Tiannan Jianghu naturally grows curious and wants a glimpse.

"Otherwise, do you think the Peach Valley Sword Contest really draws so many Qi Refiners all the way from afar to this southernmost backwater, to hone their sword arts?

"Qi Refiners are already rare in the Tiannan Jianghu, sword cultivators even rarer—how could there be so many? They all come just to gawk at this new generation of Yue Virgins and Nameless Ladies."

The old swordsmith snorted, shook his head, and drank.

"This generation of the Lady's Hall, I hear, has suffered a generational gap—the Yunmeng Yuanjun remains unconfirmed, and the new Ladies are all young. So far, I've only heard of one: Lady Snow Candle. What a fitting name—Snow Candle. The last time this title appeared in the Lady's Hall was three hundred years ago; the Nameless Lady who claimed it was a fearsome one."

Liu Liu Zian frowned slightly. "I hope this woman lives up to her reputation." The old swordsmith suddenly asked:

"Has the Lady Yue Chuzi of this generation appeared? Any details?" Liu Liu Zian paused, recalling:

"She showed up at the Peach Valley Sword Contest—apparently her common name is Zhao Zhao Qingshou. Beyond that, I know nothing. I've heard she's extremely cold, speaks to no one outside, and has little contact with the world... Such cultivation seeds are usually arrogant—it's normal."

Liu Liu Zian shook his head.

"Not yet grown, then," the old swordsmith mused. "One Snow Candle should be enough..." The two chatted a few more moments, then Liu Liu Zian said:

"Master Li sent word—the Wei clan is already on the way." The old swordsmith's expression remained unchanged; he nodded. "Punctual, as expected."

The two exchanged glances.

"Then, Master's sword?"

"Naturally, precise." The old swordsmith paused. "No more trouble from Zhe Zhe Yiqu." Liu Liu Zian exhaled in relief.

"Don't worry—I've already stabilized Magistrate Ouyang Magistrate Ouyang Lianghan."

As if remembering something, Liu Liu Zian's face darkened slightly. He forced a reply: "Zhe Zhe Yiqu has been sealed. Phase Two repairs are underway. For now, unless Magistrate Ouyang's gone mad, it won't affect the hydrology of Butterfly Creek."

"Best that way." Half a cup of tea later.

At the sword furnace's entrance, the old swordsmith watched Liu Liu Zian's relaxed figure fade into the distance.

The old man glanced at the dawn-paling sky, turned, lifted his wine flask, shook it, and drained the last drops. The cloudy wine soaked his beard and coarse linen work robe.

Inside the empty sword furnace room, the old swordsmith suddenly set down the flask and spoke to the closed furnace as if addressing it: "You're thirsty too? Want a taste?"

The room fell silent.

Only the old swordsmith's muttering echoed:

"Almost forgot—you little thing can't drink wine. You prefer something ethereal and insubstantial... Fine. Can't have me enjoying all the pleasure while you're left parched."

Saying this, the wine-carrying old man walked to the furnace, opened its round iron door with a casual hand, revealing the hollow interior of the furnace to the whole room.

"Little one, go on. Since you like the qi on him so much, take more while that little girl from the Chen Jun Xie clan of Chen Prefecture is gone... Just don't let the water rise too high again and castrate the county..."

The old swordsmith burped, muttered a few more words, and tossed them aside.

He stepped out with his wine, walked across the morning grass, and headed down the mountain to buy more. Gezao Mountain lies in Yuan Prefecture, Jiang Nan Dao.

Since ancient times, it has been a thriving land of Daoism.

Over twenty years ago, Emperor Gao Zong of Great Li Qian bestowed upon it the title "The Thirty-Third Blessed Land of the World."

The current Daoist landscape of the world is Northern Northern Louguan, Southern Sanqing.

The ancestral seat of Yu Sheng Sect, one of the Three Pure Ones, sits atop Gezao Mountain.

The Yu Sheng Daoists are famed throughout the land for gathering herbs, refining elixirs, preaching, and healing.

On days like this, with clear skies, seekers of medicine and elixirs come in endless streams.

Wealthy officials and nobles from Jiang Nan Dao often arrive in grand processions to hire Yu Sheng Daoists for rituals and fasting ceremonies.

If one looked down from above:

From the mountain's foot gate to the temple complex at the summit, the stream of incense-bearers flowed without end.

Yu Sheng disciples who greeted pilgrims and moved between halls and pavilions chanted "Fusheng Wuliang Tianzun," clad in blue Daoist robes, wearing Nanhua caps, and with no hair.

They radiated vigor and vitality, their robes made of fine silk—clearly wealthy.

No wonder some say that among the Three Mountains' bloodline sects, Gezao Mountain's Yu Sheng Sect is the richest and most worldly—just one look confirms it.

At this moment, the square beneath the sun was packed with people.

Though Gezao Mountain had opened its gates to all visitors, and Yu Sheng disciples greeted them with warm smiles, the flow of pilgrims was still largely halted in the front half of the Yu Sheng Temple complex. The further one climbed toward the summit, the grander and more serene the pavilions became.

Yu Sheng Sect had many registered Daoists, but most were secular affiliates or amateur disciples.

Only core Dixi Yu Sheng disciples, or wealthy Jiang Nan clans long allied with the sect, could enter the quiet pavilions deep within the temple.

Otherwise, outsiders were barred from the innermost pavilions.

Especially the Yu Sheng Palace atop the mountain—its upturned eaves, solemn and majestic.

And above the Yu Sheng Palace, faint purple mist curled.

Against the blue sky and white clouds, it was unmistakable.

On days like this, when elixirs were being refined, any pilgrim standing at the first step at the mountain's base could look up and see the main palace at the summit, with its slow-drifting strange purple vapor.

No one knew whether this purple vapor arose naturally, or whether the Yu Sheng Palace below was performing some ritual.

Whenever first-time pilgrims gazed in awe, the temple gate attendants would smile proudly and say: "That's the vapor of an elixir being refined by one of our most senior elders—nothing to be alarmed by."

Thus, pilgrims' faces grew even more reverent and solemn—and the incense offerings to Gezao Mountain's Yu Sheng Sect grew ever stronger.

Yet most pilgrims who came daily seeking elixirs were stopped at the front of the temple, unable to reach the pavilions near the summit.

The peak's Yu Sheng Palace, wreathed in purple elixir vapor, remained utterly inaccessible—even a messenger sent by a noble from Chang'an had to wait helplessly in the front hall.

But these matters were commonplace to passing Yu Sheng Daoists, who showed no reaction.

Yet what the pilgrims before the Yu Sheng Temple's front hall did not know was that, at this very moment, atop the mountain, beside a secluded, elegant pond near the Yu Sheng Palace, sat a lone figure in red.

The red-clad maiden, of marriageable age, dressed as a man, her hair tied up and crowned with a Confucian hat, unadorned, face bare.

Yet even in the soft, solid red robe, her chest could not be concealed—it was a shameful waste of fabric.

Or perhaps it was simply that amid the dark, monotonous pavilions, this single red robe stood out too sharply—or perhaps, as the saying goes, all men prefer beauty over poverty.

This pond lay beside the right corridor of the Yu Sheng Palace, yet both left and right corridors led down the mountain—yet most Daoists clad in Yu Sheng Sect's Dixi robes, after passing the Yu Sheng Palace, unconsciously turned toward the right corridor.

As they passed, many young Yu Sheng Daoists' glances drifted involuntarily toward the pond outside the corridor—and the newly arrived red-clad maiden, oblivious, seemed unaware she had become

the scenery for the passersby. She, too, was gazing at the scenery.

In the peripheral vision of passing Yu Sheng Daoists: blue sky, white clouds, the pond, swimming carp.

The red-clad maiden sat sideways, her snow-white wrists curled around a small porcelain jar, head tilted slightly, eyes reflecting the fish in the water.

The sky was blue; she was red. The carp moved; she was still.

The distant mountains were ink-dark; her brows and eyes were painted.

No one knew whether this strange red-clad maiden waited for something, or simply daydreamed. She noticed none of the men glancing sideways, their faces frozen in reverie as they stared at the lake.

Sometimes she frowned in sorrow; sometimes she quietly smiled, hugging tighter the jar of pickled radish from the Yu Sheng Palace's morning meal hall—her smile sweet.

But soon, she slumped again, head bowed, lost in thought. The morning passed.

Some Yu Sheng Daoists passed by here repeatedly, for no clear reason.

Some young Daoists paused slightly, as if wanting to approach the pond and speak.

But then, suddenly, the mist above the Yu Sheng Palace was swept away by a gust of wind—the great doors burst open. "Today, Master Master Chongxu is refining elixirs—this batch is coming fast!"

All Yu Sheng disciples rushed over, their attention fully drawn.

Master Master Chongxu held a status just below the sect's leader and was famed for elixir refinement, though his temper was notoriously harsh and stern.

Chen Jun Xie Xie Lingjiang also glanced over, exhaled in relief, and stood.

Inside the hall, an old Daoist in a Nanhua cap pushed past the congratulating Yu Sheng disciples and walked straight toward Chen Jun Xie Xie Lingjiang. "Elder, how is the antidote?"

The disciples were astonished—the stern, silent old Daoist had just smiled at this new red-clad maiden.

Master Master Chongxu nodded and smiled: "I refined a Golden Core for Longhu Mountain as a side task—nothing difficult. You've waited long, niece. Let's speak here..."

The old Daoist and the red-clad maiden walked toward a nearby pavilion, chatting as they went—leaving behind a group of stunned Yu Sheng Dixi disciples, exchanging bewildered glances.

The old Daoist and the red-clad maiden walked toward a nearby palace, chatting as they went, leaving only the Jiang Yuqing sect's direct disciples staring at each other in astonishment.