Chapter 762: Appointment at the Waterside Pavilion

This was Pei Ye’s first contact with Yunlang Mountain, and it truly was a reclusive sect—though not quite as he had imagined.

All along, Pei Ye had pictured Yunlang as gentle and understated; it was hard to say where this impression came from—perhaps from Ming’s aura, or perhaps from this sword gate perched high upon the Cloud Mountains, never drawing from the world, yet establishing the Dao-Initiation Assembly to benefit all.

And that Sword Lord had allowed Ming to wander the world alone, challenging swords. True, she ranked third on the Crane List, one of the top masters in the realm—but given her status, her strength still seemed immature.

Deep rivers and hidden lakes can snap dragons; at least since Pei Ye met her, the woman had faced two life-threatening dangers.

Thus, in Pei Ye’s vague impression, Yunlang was a sword sect as insubstantial as clouds. They did not care about nothing—but they truly saw everything more lightly: worldly power, sect reputation, and even life and death—both their own and their young master’s.

As Grandpa Yue said on his deathbed: “You cannot attain absolute devotion to the sword, so Yunlang Mountain is not your place.” This lofty sword gate cared for nothing but the Way of the Sword.

Even after the grave incident at Kongdong last year, Pei Ye saw no harsh retaliation—Kongdong still stood firm, even remained within the Dao-Initiation Assembly.

Yet now, Yunlang’s general demeanor matched Pei Ye’s expectations: they were indeed understated, but not gentle.

Or at least, this Senior Wen Suoqu was not gentle.

Yunlang would not send two Heavenly Towers to follow the Young Sword Lord—but since the Young Sword Lord was ambushed, Yunlang would not hesitate to strike back.

And the extent of that retaliation was not decided by anger or affection, but meant to show every martial sect: if you conspire with the underworld to murder a Yunlang disciple, you will not draw another breath for at least twenty years.

Yunlang could have sent a formal letter to Kongdong in advance—then Kongdong would not have even come to the Divine Capital this year, preserving a measure of dignity.

But Yunlang did not do that.

So Pei Ye thought: Yunlang was no do-gooder. It united the sword sects and founded the Dao-Initiation Assembly perhaps to foster the flourishing of sword arts across the realm—but not to coddle these younger swordsmen and sects.

This sounds like the same thing, and even looks like the same thing—but it is not the same thing.

When he stood today, Pei Ye realized this.

Yunlang’s stance toward Kongdong was unchangeable—it was a sect-level prohibition, and the entire garden fell silent because of it.

This was no time for sentiment or jokes; with the power each sect commanded, every one was like a state within a state. When Yunlang issued its decree, it spoke as one—any offense was an offense against Yunlang.

But Pei Ye himself held some [20] unchangeable things.

Nothing can be changed.

He remembered Ji Changyun, remembered Bai Tianqu, remembered the dark, rotting, lotus-podded Seventeen Peaks of Kongdong—but he also remembered Zhang Meiqing’s final words, remembered Xu Shang, remembered Kong Lanting’s clean eyes.

He knew clearly that his actions had directly defied Yunlang. He did not argue logic, did not foolishly try to mediate, and would never use Ming’s connection as leverage.

Nor was he defending Kongdong—there was no such thing in the world as committing evil and then expecting the backlash to be measured and restrained.

But after Wen Suoqu said, “At present, Yunlang must not interact with Kongdong,” and Zhang Jingbi stood rigid on the pond’s surface, Pei Ye had to rise and say, “Jingbi, let me spar with you.”

Though to anyone, this act seemed nearly provocative.

Senior Wen Suoqu was better than he imagined—he not only answered him, but explained why Yunlang must act this way—giving him a chance to reconsider. Before, Pei Ye had thought the old man would ignore him.

Yet he still walked onto the pond’s surface.

Thus, Yunlang carried out its warning.

This Yunlang elder had not been angry at Kongdong at first, nor angered by Pei Ye later—his actions remained unchanged.

If Yunlang had been less reclusive, today’s matter could have been handled far better.

They could have learned Kongdong’s stance first, or met with Pei Ye. Pei Ye was a party to last year’s events; many did not know, but Yunlang certainly did. Indeed, Pei Ye’s current standing at the Sword Study Academy relied on Yunlang’s recommendation.

Had they acted more tactfully, the two sides would not have clashed openly before all eyes—even after the boy stood, the senior elder could have easily found an excuse to let the matter pass.

Had they acted more harshly, Pei Ye’s eligibility at the Sword Study Academy should have been revoked.

But neither happened—and thus, in this first encounter, Pei Ye came to know this reclusive Yunlang.

After he sat back down, the garden remained long in silence. If anyone had not recognized him before the sword riddle, now the entire garden would remember his name vividly—and it was certain that by day’s end, his name would spread throughout the Divine Capital.

The one who directly defied Yunlang.

In truth, Pei Ye felt he had not offended Yunlang; since Yunlang had never treated him specially before, it could hardly be said to harbor resentment—it was simply as ever, understated.

But most would not think so; people would exclaim in shock: “Do you know that Pei Ye, the one who never showed his face? He’s truly arrogant—he openly defied Yunlang to defend Kongdong, provoking the greatest sword sect in the realm.”

Because it was already clear now.

The Sword Banquet ended; swordsmen from different sects rose from their seats and mingled.

The central tables were naturally the most watched. But Pei Ye, who had shattered the riddle with a single sword strike and stunned the entire garden, received not a single word.

Many eyes fell upon him—but no one came to speak. Kongdong did not approach either; before leaving, they gazed from afar—Ji Zhuowu bowed to him, Guan Qianyan’s eyes were red as she stared.

Pei Ye smiled and bowed farewell to them.

Except… Pei Ye turned back and looked at He Yaoyao; the woman still carefully hid herself behind him.

He took one step, she followed one step.

Thanks to Pei Ye’s current demonic reputation, many admirers dared not approach her, leaving He Yaoyao greatly relieved and very satisfied.

Pei Ye was also quite satisfied with this sparring partner, so he temporarily allowed her to take refuge with him.

Pei Ye intended to return to the Sword Study Academy—but after turning two stone pillars, a graceful figure stepped before him: white robe, cloud-like hair, it was Shi Zanxue.

“Miss Shi.”

“Where is Young Master Pei going?”

“Where else? Back to the Sword Study Academy.”

Shi Zanxue tilted her head slightly, glancing at the woman behind Pei Ye, curiously: “Returning to the Sword Academy… will you take the He True Heir with you?”

He Yaoyao widened her eyes, surprised she had to speak even with Pei Ye beside her; she paused: “Shi… Shi Anxiang, greetings.”

Pei Ye turned back: “I didn’t ask her—do you want to come back to the Sword Academy with me?”

“...Whatever… I suppose.”

Shi Zanxue smiled, her gaze returning to Pei Ye’s face: “Young Master Pei, did you enjoy the wine I gave you last time?”

“Delicious, delicious.” Pei Ye laughed. “I hadn’t even finished it before He True Heir dragged me up—now I’ll probably have none left when I return.”

“I’m sorry,” He Yaoyao said.

Shi Zanxue smiled at him, then lifted her sleeve—her hand held another identical jade pot: “I have half a pot left. May I invite Young Master Pei to share a drink?”

Pei Ye paused, looked at her, then glanced at Li Tishui across the Sword Study Academy table, and smiled: “...I am deeply honored.”

Shi Zanxue smiled silently, turned, and veered away from the garden, heading down a secluded path, gradually leaving the garden’s voices behind.

This was likely Tian Shan’s private domain; walking along the lotus pond, they reached a small pavilion facing the wind, its four gauze curtains fluttering gently.

Shi Zanxue stopped, turned, and smiled gently at He Yaoyao, who had been silently trailing: “He True Heir, I wish to speak privately with Young Master Pei. You may rest here—someone will bring tea and snacks.”

He Yaoyao blinked: “Oh.”

She halted, sat on the stone bench at Shi Zanxue’s invitation, then watched the white-robed woman lead Pei Ye away from the pavilion, into the waterside pavilion beside it, turning [66] and closing the door.

The body closed the door.

He Yaoyao stared for a moment, took out her sword notebook from her side, and spread it open on the table.

Shi Zanxue and Pei Ye entered; the waterside pavilion was quiet, cool breeze and spring sunlight flowing in from the terrace. Shi Zanxue’s steps were light; she reached the pond’s edge, lifted a gauze curtain, and placed the wine pot down with a soft “tap.”

She turned, opened the gauze cabinet, took two thin cups, rinsed them with clear water, and set them before Pei Ye.

“The attendants are all busy at the front courtyard—please forgive me, Young Master Pei.” Shi Zanxue smiled faintly, folded her sleeves, and poured wine for the youth before seating herself.

“Miss Shi’s hospitality—even plain water would taste sweet.”

“Young Master Pei, you’ve been in the Divine Capital for months—your tongue has changed.”

Pei Ye said nothing, lowered his eyes and smiled: “You said this wine was only ten pots—did you save ten pots just for me?”

“You’re suspicious indeed. Where else have you seen it, besides a few families?”

“Then this half-pot?”

“My fellow disciples and I drank half, and I remembered Young Master Pei, so I brought the rest to offer you—never expecting such suspicion.”

Pei Ye laughed helplessly: “...You’re offering me your leftover wine.”

“I didn’t drink from the spout,” Shi Zanxue’s bright eyes widened. “Then Young Master Pei, don’t drink it—I’ll pour you a cup of sweet water instead.”

Pei Ye laughed and apologized, blocking her hand.

Shi Zanxue lowered her head and took a sip; the breeze on the terrace was refreshing.

“This was brought from Tian Shan. Dug up in January, sealed with the wine and pot, buried under two hundred jin of crushed ice jade, transported four thousand li—only thirty pots total.” Shi Zanxue said. “The wine is called ‘Queen Mother’s Last Sip,’ a priceless rarity. Twelve pots have been gifted this past month, ten used at today’s Sword Banquet—only eight remain.”

“...So precious?” Pei Ye stared; he had just sipped, and suddenly felt a pang of regret.

“To the Divine Capital, this is a rare treasure—but on Tian Shan, such things are everywhere.” Shi Zanxue raised her thin cup before her eyes, softly: “I’ve long heard of the Divine Capital’s splendor, yet now I find even its people have seen little of the world.”

Her eyes, like ice and jade, were more beautiful than the delicate cup—truly as if descended from a fairy realm. Since leaving Fenghuai, the woman who most embodied the aura of a fairy was this one.

Pei Ye paused: “Tian Shan is lofty and beautiful—I’ve long heard its name.”

Shi Zanxue’s clear eyes suddenly fixed on his face, studying him intently.

“Do you have ambition, Young Master Pei?” she said.

Pei Ye held his cup mid-air, raised his gaze.

Silence fell.

“What do you mean, Miss Shi?”

Shi Zanxue still gazed at him: “Since Young Master Pei took the Heart of the Western Court, [92] Tian Shan has long sought your voice, yet we have never met.”

Mount Tianshan has long pursued your noble voice, but has yet to meet you.

Pei Ye paused: “I remember. Last year in Long territory, Tian Shan pursued this divine artifact. Later, I obtained it from Qu Zhu, and when I awoke, I was already in the Divine Capital—I never received any message from Tian Shan.”

“The Divine Capital is not Tian Shan’s territory,” Shi Zanxue hinted, still staring straight at him; the table was small, their distance not far. “I wish to ask Young Master Pei: do you wish to become Lord of the Western Court? Ten thousand li of western lands, held in one hand—treasures like sand, talents like stars… not an emperor, but the master of your own household. Tian Shan will be in your courtyard.”

Her voice was soft; this clear tone made the heart leap, as if even the breeze could bewitch.

Pei Ye raised his cup to his lips and took a small sip.

“Miss Shi, what merit do I have?”

“The Heart of the Western Court is in Young Master Pei’s hands.”

“Your sect could kill me and reclaim it anytime.”

“Then, Young Master Pei—do you wish to?”

“Not willing.” Pei Ye spoke softly, lifting his cup and draining it. “Sometimes I’d be willing to die—but beyond that, whoever tries to kill me, I’ll kill them.”

The spring breeze gently swayed the gauze curtains.

“Then that’s settled, Young Master Pei.” Shi Zanxue looked at him seriously. “I don’t wish anyone to kill you.”

Pei Ye sat upright.

“Miss Shi, we’ve known each other a long time.”

“Mm.”

“I’d like to ask: is it you who doesn’t wish to kill me—or is it Mount Tianshan?” Pei Ye poured himself another cup of wine.

“...”

“So it follows that at least some within Mount Tianshan wish to kill me.” Pei Ye sipped, set the cup down on the table, and fixed his clear eyes on Shi Zanxue. “Then I have another question. Are you here as a vanguard envoy sent to pacify me—or as a trusted minister of a power-hungry claimant to the throne?”

Shi Zanxue fell silent for a moment: “Young Master Pei has spent some time in the Divine Capital; now your mind is sharp, clever disguised as simple.”

“Sounds still like ‘simple’ to me.”

Shi Zanxue smiled faintly: “You regard me as part of your circle of friends, so you speak so frankly. Then I’m willing to answer you, Young Master Pei.”

She spoke solemnly: “The Xiting Heart is a divine artifact Mount Tianshan has sought and pursued for centuries—not since last year, nor even twenty years ago, but since a distant past of hundreds, even thousands of years. We have searched for the Immortal Treasury of Mu Wang, for the key to the lost Immortal Kingdom.”

“So Young Master Pei should understand: Mount Tianshan has devoted generations of effort, exhausting scholars’ white heads, traversing the western lands, sacrificing countless loyal lives—only to catch a fleeting glimpse of it… and find it in the hands of a stranger, a boy.” Shi Zanxue whispered, “There will surely be those within Mount Tianshan who are discontented, and those who are ambitious.”

Pei Ye listened in silence.

“Some of them are even the ruling powers of Mount Tianshan,” Shi Zanxue turned her head to gaze at the shimmering water. “Without hesitation, if the right opportunity arises, they would gladly kill Young Master Pei and reclaim the Xiting Heart for themselves.”

Pei Ye nodded.

“But the ascension of the Lord of Xiting cannot be achieved by force.” Shi Zanxue said.

“For millennia past, the Xiting Heart never appeared. Why? Last year, many factions vied for it—yet only Young Master Pei had neither foundation nor power. Why, then, did the Xiting Heart choose you?” Shi Zanxue said. “Young Master Pei, you asked whether I’m an envoy of pacification or a minister of a throne-seeker… I am neither. If I must say, I am perhaps a scholar who upholds the old order.”

She turned back to face him, gazing quietly: “The throne of Great Tang must be chosen by the Heavenly Phoenix; the Lord of Xiting is not selected through slaughter. ‘By morning, a messenger of the Queen Mother; by evening, returned to Sanwei Mountain.’ That is who I am, Young Master Pei. I believe that who shall be Lord of Xiting was decided by the Queen Mother four thousand years ago. We have our own faith and convictions—that is precisely what sets Mount Tianshan apart from worldly sects.”

“Even now, among the people of Mount Tianshan, save for the Eight Steeds and Seven Jewels, fewer than one in ten still believe this myth… yet I still ask you to ascend as Lord of the Court.”

“I know Young Master Pei is now weak beyond measure—not even equal to a single finger of the world’s powerful. But if you sincerely seek this power, then it is merely a path. If you fail, I will perish with you, body and soul. May heaven and earth bear witness.” Shi Zanxue gently raised her cup. “This is my resolve.”

Pei Ye fell silent for a moment: “We’ve met many times, but today, Miss Shi, is the first time we truly know each other.”

He lifted his own cup: “So you feared I was too kind-hearted, and would simply return the Xiting Heart outright—hence you tempted me with ambition and desire at the outset.”

“Isn’t Young Master Pei the sort who returns lost things to their rightful owners?”

“I am. But I never thought this thing belonged to Mount Tianshan.” Pei Ye smiled, watching Shi Zanxue’s faint surprise. “I won it from Yang Yan with a single Snow Sword technique. I took it from Minister Sui—he gave it to me because he trusted me.”

He tapped his cup lightly against hers with a clear chime, then drained it: “I intend to become its master, Miss Shi. I ask your aid. Now, let us see who among them is terrifyingly strong.”