Chapter 73

County yamen.

Xing Zhi continued to gaze at the two objects on the table, lost in thought.

Ming Qitian carried too many elements; involving her would only confuse the matter, yet with only the bead and the book left, the clues were far too scarce.

Xing Zhi sighed, thinking that Pei Ye and the others should be returning soon.

Xu Wei Zhou had finally gone to the city outskirts himself, because Xing Zhi was pondering whether to have Ming Qitian leave.

If the Immortal Lord was seeking Ming Qitian, this would be an excellent solution: first, it would thwart His plans; second, He would chase after Ming Qitian, thus preserving Fenghuai; third, even if Ming Qitian perished, the wrath of Yunlang Mountain would fall solely upon Zhu Shi Jiao.

She rubbed her temples; having spent so much time with Zhu Gaoyang, she always felt a twinge of shame for entertaining this third thought of hers.

The crux of the problem lay in three unknowns: whether Ming Qitian was truly the threat to the Immortal Lord, whether He had already locked onto His target, and what level of power He currently possessed.

Each yes or no answer would lead to entirely different outcomes; Xing Zhi had long known that the success or failure of a decision often had little to do with the decision-maker’s wisdom—it was simply a case of even the cleverest housewife cannot cook without rice.

She rose and walked toward the back courtyard.

Since she could not gain support for her decision from the enemy, she could turn inward—after all, Ming Jianzhu was no mere puppet to be moved at will.

Arriving at the back courtyard, amid such tense and oppressive atmosphere, the dominant mood here was unexpectedly calm and serene.

The old pear tree stood quietly against the wall; the air was cool and clear; the clerks passing through the courtyard moved with quiet steps and steady voices.

The white-robed figure sat by the window, as if shut off from all worldly affairs, holding a scroll and reading intently, her lips murmuring softly—though the black cat was no longer by her side.

She was clearly the anchor of this courtyard’s atmosphere.

The book’s spine faced Xing Zhi; she glanced at it—it was The Chan Master’s Teachings on Swordcraft.

‘Such an obscure text…’ Xing Zhi thought, somewhat exasperated.

Though she knew everyone had their own path, and someone as gifted as Ming Qitian should not be disturbed even for a second of her cultivation time.

She also knew this woman, famed throughout the land, was only twenty-one, and nearly twenty of those years had been spent atop a mountain, scarcely entangled with the mundane world.

Yet these days, burdened by endless duties and always regarded by others as capable and decisive, Xing Zhi, upon seeing this tranquil, detached scene, could not help but feel a flicker of irritation and complaint.

—Had she been sheltered too well?

A terrible enemy could descend at any moment; should you stay or flee? How should you confront the foe? What kind of coordination is needed… which of these matters does not demand precise coordination?

This involves not merely tactical considerations, but also your status as Ming Qitian, the noble daughter who does not sit beneath a low eave—if you do not clearly agree, who dares assign you to face a powerful enemy?

Yet she could calmly begin reading this ancient book since morning, as if accustomed to the notion that others would handle all trivial matters.

But no one here can guarantee your safety.

Could there be a secret method within this book to slay the Taiyi Zhenlong Immortal Lord?

Xing Zhi knew there was not—once, Zhu Gaoyang had been ordered by his master to urgently study sword theory, and he had tried to deceive him with this book, thinking his master had never read it; but after reading half, he found it too obscure and tedious, and switched to a more common text.

Thinking of that bright, handsome face, Xing Zhi’s mood eased slightly.

She knew this was merely a minor emotional imbalance caused by overwhelming duties—not any real grievance against this Ming Jianzhu. After all, her staying here now was the best answer of all.

Since she could not assist in battle, it was only right that she shoulder more of the mundane burdens.

Xing Zhi gently pushed open the door and smiled: “Ming Jianzhu?”

Ming Qitian lifted her luminous face, meeting her with a tranquil gaze.

Seeing that face, Xing Zhi’s inner agitation vanished completely; she spoke gently: “The enemy is likely far too dangerous, and perhaps targets you. We urge you to temporarily retreat to the state capital—what do you say?”

“No need.” The woman’s reply was unexpectedly firm; her voice was calm, her clear eyes seeming to pierce through Xing Zhi’s soul: “Thank you for your concern, but do not trouble yourself over me. I fight whoever I meet—that is all.”

“But…” Xing Zhi suspected she still did not grasp the danger, “the Immortal Lord’s power is now unpredictable—perhaps…”

Xing Zhi hesitated, whispering: “Perhaps even Tianlou level.”

“Mm.”

Xing Zhi froze, a sudden hope rising in her chest: “Do you have a way to counter Tianlou?”

“No, Master Xing.” Ming Qitian replied again, calmly and earnestly: “I don’t think about such things. I fight whoever I meet—that is all.”

“But what if you cannot win?”

Ming Qitian merely smiled faintly.

“...”

Xing Zhi understood the meaning of those words.

If you cannot win, you simply accept the consequences of defeat—lose, and you lose; die, and you die—that is all.

Only then did Xing Zhi recall the original talent that had first made this woman famous, long overshadowed by later accolades—the Heir of Sword Tao , Third on the Crane List, Master of the Luli Sword—and nearly forgotten.

It was the crystal-clear state of mind that allowed Ming Qitian to be recognized by Zhanxin Luli.

It was also the very trait that rendered her immune to the Immortal Lord’s Qunshou mind control.

Xing Zhi realized she had deeply misunderstood this young swordmaster.

She was not oblivious to affairs, accustomed to having everything arranged for her—she understood everything clearly, yet was not troubled by it.

To ordinary people, facing an unpredictable enemy would bring anxiety and fear; within a limited time to find a solution, one would be desperate and restless; if deciding to flee alone, one would feel shame; if choosing to stay and face death together, one would be filled with heroic fervor.

But for Ming Qitian, these circumstances and decisions did not disturb her mind; she naturally chose to stay and face the powerful foe.

And since there was nothing to do while waiting for the enemy’s arrival, she simply continued reading.

Just as she had traveled a thousand miles upon receiving Pei Ye’s sword talisman, rushing to save him—not because she loved this boy she had never met, nor did she feel she had done him a great favor after risking her life to save him.

She did what she wished to do, unbound by fear, worry, gain, or loss—never hesitating, never agonizing. This was her innate “Mirror of Clarity and Ice.”

Xing Zhi stood still for a moment, nodded, and turned to close the door and take her leave.

At that moment, a hoarse voice from within startled her—only then did she notice an elderly man in a wheelchair inside the room.

It turned out Ming Qitian had not been muttering to herself, but conversing with the old man.

The hoarse voice said: “Master Zhao Kong was already somewhat corrupted when he wrote this book; the disciple who recorded it concealed his master’s faults, altering many of his later dialogues—hence it appears far emptier and shallower than the earlier sections. In truth, the state of ‘The Buddha Sees Me’ he sought was long ago achieved by your Yunlang Mountain’s predecessors.”

Ming Qitian’s eyes widened slightly: “You mean…?”

“Yes. I can teach you.” The old man rasped.

Xing Zhi was still stunned by the elder’s origins when she suddenly saw Ming Qitian turn solemnly toward the courtyard, her hand gripping her sword hilt.

Only then did Xing Zhi feel the deadly wind rushing from behind.