Chapter 744: The Lesser Daqu (Bonus Chapter for Patron Pei Jing Y)

Yang Zhen returned from practicing swordplay, and after a brief rustling in the courtyard, everything fell utterly silent.

Next to Pei Ye’s head was the window; strands of night wind drifted in, and after washing himself clean, he curled up under the soft quilt, the scent of soapberry filling his nostrils.

“Looks like I won’t be waiting any longer,” he murmured, hands clasped behind his head.

The black cat nodded: “Though quick to anger, he hasn’t lost his wits.”

Pei Ye had nearly taken all of Yong Ji’s 【White Water】 divine authority, but due to the delicate timing, he retained a portion within Yong Ji.

Because before the fight began, Li Xizhou had told him that in the worst-case scenario, Yong Ji and Chan General would each depart one.

So Pei Ye had deliberately left him some residue—now, whenever Yong Ji entered the mirage, Pei Ye could detect him.

Or if he dared a desperate gamble and couldn’t resist re-entering the Western Court’s White Water Divine Palace, Pei Ye would attempt to trap him there.

So for days he had refrained from lighting the palace—but now it seemed this slim hope had indeed failed.

Pei Ye stretched, lifted the kitten to his chest, gently smoothed its fur, and whispered, “Let’s go.”

Snowstorm raged across the Western Court.

Pei Ye cradled the black cat and ascended the divine mountain, towering like a celestial pillar; when he reached the first step, he turned his head to glance at the Xuanhuo Divine Palace beyond the snow curtain and murmured, “Little cat, your nest.”

The black cat didn’t even bother lifting its eyes.

Pei Ye did not enter the Canxing Divine Palace again; he marched straight ahead, and after several li, arrived at the familiar high cliff.

Looking down, the Zixing Divine Palace stood below, its snow veil fluttering gently, utterly empty.

Pei Ye gazed quietly for a moment, then leapt down.

One of the Seven Palaces of the Western Court, sharing the 【Shishen】 divine authority with Canxing, this palace differed sharply from Canxing Palace: Canxing was pitch-black, this one was pure white; Canxing radiated solemn majesty, this one was hazy and poetic.

A clear spring stood in the courtyard, spraying pearls and cascading waterfalls; Pei Ye approached it, and the icy water immediately clung to his forearm like a silken ribbon. Several frozen ponds dotted the courtyard.

Looking up, the palace’s form was naturally elegant; the plaque above its entrance bore no engraved characters, only three bright star-points, surrounded by fainter stars—as if the plaque were a lens revealing a fragment of the starry sky.

Pei Ye stepped through the palace gate.

As before, the snowstorm vanished entirely; snow cloaks melted swiftly, flowers and trees revived, and the courtyard’s pond water cracked and thawed.

He walked deeper into the palace, as if the long-absent master had returned; pure white water surged from his arms, like blood flowing through the palace’s parched veins, gradually restoring flesh and bone—until the divine palace itself came alive.

Guided by the white water, Pei Ye reached the end of the great hall.

A jade dais, silent for an unknown span of time,

lay before him.

Pei Ye stood still for a moment; the white water became his countless sensory tendrils, bringing all it touched under his control—including this divine palace.

Slowly, Pei Ye placed his hand upon the jade dais.

From the point of contact, two transformations occurred simultaneously—upward and downward.

Upward, from his hand, divine intent began to suffuse his body: white scales, water-silk robes, pupils stained pale rose, carrying a detached coldness; white water encircled him like the silken ribbons of a celestial being.

Downward, the jade dais gleamed anew under the white water’s wash, intricate patterns reappearing; upon the surface where the water flowed, a line of ancient, eternal characters slowly ignited.

【Zixing Guardian · White Water Illusion Lord’s Divine Palace】

As if celestial music echoed through the entire realm, the snow that had sealed the Western Court for millennia melted again; the jade towers and golden halls of the divine realm remained in ruin, but above them, in the divine palace, a second solitary flame now blazed tonight.

Pei Ye stepped out of the hall and walked slowly, observing the palace and its courtyard and cliff.

To be fair, this palace was far more beautiful than Canxing Palace: Canxing was built almost entirely of dark stone, its edges sharp and imposing, with little ornamentation; if he had to choose a dwelling, Pei Ye would certainly prefer this one.

He squatted by the newly thawed pond and was startled to see several crimson little fish within; he reached in, caught one, and when he pinched its tail, it wriggled vigorously.

Pei Ye stared at it for a moment, hesitated, then slowly held it toward the kitten on his knee.

The black cat regarded him with cool emerald eyes, opened its mouth, bit— and the fish dissolved into a stream of clear water, flowing back into the pond. Soon after, another small fish appeared.

“So this can be fished too? Are there any bigger ones?” Pei Ye’s eyes brightened, and he went to inspect the other ponds.

But he found no larger fish—only half-palm-sized ones. Still, Pei Ye was not discouraged; he held the kitten and asked if he could cut down two bamboo stalks from the Purple Bamboo Grove to make fishing rods; the kitten replied he must first cultivate his mind-art diligently.

These were rare, tranquil moments, the only quiet time the master and hunter had together; one man and one cat sat in the palace courtyard, chatting idly, waiting.

Soon, Zi Shi arrived; this time, no green feather came to guide him, but Pei Ye seemed to hear several knocks at the door.

He stirred his intent, left the courtyard, and a path he had never seen appeared before him.

Pei Ye left the black cat at the palace gate and ascended it alone.

It wound upward, vanishing into the snowstorm—but as Pei Ye walked, the snow and wind grew thinner; after an unknown time—perhaps only a few breaths—the snow, wind, and cold vanished entirely; he stepped onto a platform brimming with divine aura.

Pei Ye was barely prepared when he saw the vast banquet table.

Several beasts had just gathered: Lu Wu sat at the head, flanked by Yingzhao, Jiao, Shengyu, and Daqu, all ten eyes fixed upon him.

Pei Ye looked down uncomfortably—he was the only one still human.

He cleared his throat twice, pressed his lips together, and bowed: “Greetings, honored elders. I am Pei Ye, at your service.”

Silence fell over the table; only Daqu kept staring at him, the others turned to look at Lu Wu.

Lu Wu tapped the table lightly with his sharp claw: “As you see, we do not use real names here.”

“...” Pei Ye paused. “Actually, I’m not Pei Ye—I’m impersonating him.”

“Enough. No one here doesn’t know who you are... First, choose a divine hunter.” Lu Wu raised a claw and pointed. “Take a seat.”

Pei Ye blinked; only now did he notice four empty seats remained.

“What animals are these?” Pei Ye hesitated. “Can I pick one I like? No pigs, right?”

Lu Wu replied coolly: “It’s all a matter of fate.”

He thought a moment, glanced at Daqu, then at Shengyu beside it—both so elegant; the ones nearby couldn’t be ugly. He walked straight to the seat beside Daqu.

Instantly, Pei Ye felt his senses and vision shift; the beasts before him receded, grew towering—and one sharp beak now protruded at the lower edge of his sight.

He gasped, “Ah?”—and the beak let out a loud “Ga!”

Daqu beside him glanced down lazily.

Pei Ye dared not speak again; he looked down at himself: a slender, elegant form, sharp golden beak, plumage of blue feathers like a celestial cloak.

He resembled Daqu in form, but his colors were lighter, his feathers sharper, his frame slightly smaller.

Beneath his claws, a branch had appeared; he shifted his slender talons uneasily.

“How do I speak like this?” he exclaimed again, letting out six frantic “Ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga!” sounds.