Chapter 84: Understanding (Requesting Subscriptions!!!)

Damu Mountain lies two hundred li east of Luoshan; it didn’t actually take three days to get there, but since the Li family’s marriage solicitation hadn’t yet begun, Bai Yun the Swordmaster traveled slowly, and upon arriving at Damu Mountain, he didn’t enter immediately but instead set up camp in a secluded spot outside the mountain.

Bai Yun the Swordmaster chose a camping spot along a mountain stream, on a rocky platform five or six feet above the water. Liu Xiaolou silently shook his head, circled around, and climbed to a slope over ten zhang above and to the side, where he could look down upon the platform and easily monitor Bai Yun’s movements.

He shook his head because the spot Bai Yun had chosen was far from ideal: though close to water for fishing and safe from flash floods in winter due to low water levels, the rock platform sat directly above the stream’s best water source—unless something went wrong, Bai Yun would be busy all night.

True enough, by nightfall, the platform where Bai Yun camped erupted with all manner of commotion. Liu Xiaolou leaned against a rock, a blade of grass between his teeth, watching as Bai Yun battled passing rats, goats, wild leopards, wolves, and various snakes and insects drawn by the scent. Though his skills were more than enough to handle them, the entire night was a torment.

By the time he finally realized the reason and moved his camp, Liu Xiaolou got lucky and stole a goat leg.

Bai Yun’s new campsite was now three-tenths closer to Liu Xiaolou, making surveillance even easier. With nothing else to do, Liu Xiaolou observed from the cliff above: watching him toss stones to catch fish, light fires to roast them, find a spot to relieve himself, sit in meditation, and practice an impressive dart-throwing technique…

Several more days passed. On this day, Liu Xiaolou finally saw his chance. While Bai Yun descended the stream to bathe, Liu Xiaolou slipped quietly to the water’s edge, hid behind a boulder, channeled his true qi into his left wrist, and the Lidisanyuan Rope within his wrist shot out like a living serpent.

Ten feet away, the white robe by the stream vanished in an instant—then reappeared in Liu Xiaolou’s hand.

Liu Xiaolou swiftly rummaged through the clothes and found a satchel inside the sleeve pocket. From it fell a letter: an invitation from the Damu Mountain Li family to Baiyun Mountain Villa, requesting they send a worthy disciple to Damu Mountain for a meeting.

The letter didn’t explicitly say it was for a bridegroom selection, but the intent was clear. Judging by the date on the seal, the gathering was tonight!

No wonder the bastard was bathing.

The letter was exquisitely crafted, edged with gold thread, its seal engraved with elegant script, radiating the prestige of a great household. It was impressive, but it gave Liu Xiaolou a headache—there was no way to forge it in haste.

Splashing sounds came from the stream. Liu Xiaolou peeked out and saw the bastard standing up, his pale, smooth back exposed—truly, he had a fine physique.

Liu Xiaolou judged his own looks no worse, but in terms of postnatal cultivation and skin care, he was far inferior. His only advantage: he had no visible birthmarks. The bastard, however, bore a faint “chrysanthemum” on his left buttock.

Well, now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. Liu Xiaolou tucked the letter away and used the spiritual rope to return the robe to its original spot.

Where were the spirit stones? Why weren’t there any spirit stones? Surely the bastard had some—where had he hidden them?

Liu Xiaolou slipped away quietly, went to Bai Yun’s campsite, searched again, found no spirit stones, sighed, and left in disappointment.

Upon entering Damu Mountain, Li family servants waited along the path. Before Bai Yun the Swordmaster arrived, Liu Xiaolou reached the Li family’s “Washing Ink Hall.”

The Li family occupied multiple peaks of Damu Mountain, but their residences weren’t clustered in one place—each mountain and peak had its own buildings. The Washing Ink Hall was one such pavilion, built alone atop Boiling Spring Peak, used for elegant gatherings with distinguished guests.

At the entrance, Li family stewards and servants greeted arriving guests. One bowed respectfully to Liu Xiaolou: “Please present your invitation.”

Liu Xiaolou handed over the letter. The steward examined it, then bowed: “Ah, a guest from Baiyun Mountain Villa. May I ask your name?”

Liu Xiaolou replied: “I am Liu, Liu Xiaolou.” Bai Yun the Swordmaster would surely arrive soon—using a false name would be instantly exposed, so he gave his real name.

The steward hesitated: “Liu?”

Liu Xiaolou smiled and explained: “I don’t bear the Yun surname—I’m a distant relative of Baiyun Mountain Villa.”

The steward nodded: “Oh… Then, did the Yun family send no disciples to the gathering?”

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Liu Xiaolou said: “Yes, my cousin Yun Ao is also here—he’s right behind me, arriving any moment. I’ll wait for him before entering together—is that acceptable?”

The steward blinked: “So your villa has sent two guests?”

Liu Xiaolou asked: “Is that not allowed?”

The steward nodded: “Of course it is… Please enter first and take tea. When your cousin arrives, we’ll guide him in.”

Liu Xiaolou waved his hand with a smile: “My cousin has a proud temperament. We had a disagreement on the way here—embarrassing, really. We argued fiercely. Since your family is only offering one daughter in marriage, I think… I’ll wait outside for him.”

The steward instantly understood and smiled: “Understood.”

Liu Xiaolou stood still before the Washing Ink Hall, gazing up the mountain path alongside the steward, waiting.

Three more guests arrived in succession—all young nobles from nearby or distant clans—but Liu Xiaolou, being poorly informed, didn’t recognize a single one.

After over an hour, a figure finally appeared in the distance, hurrying toward them. Liu Xiaolou sighed to the steward: “My cousin’s here. If he causes any embarrassment, please be lenient.”

The steward stroked his beard and smiled: “Understood. Just don’t make too much noise and disturb other noble guests.”

Liu Xiaolou quickly replied: “Rest assured, my family’s disciples know propriety… I’ll go greet him.”

He walked toward Bai Yun the Swordmaster and grinned: “Yun Brother, we meet again!”

Bai Yun the Swordmaster froze, incredulous: “How are you here?”

Liu Xiaolou beamed: “See? We’re fated to cross paths.”

Bai Yun the Swordmaster still couldn’t believe it: “How could you possibly be here?”

Liu Xiaolou waved the letter before his eyes: “You received the invitation—you had to come. Yun Brother, you went too far. If you were coming, why not tell me? We could’ve traveled together.”

Bai Yun the Swordmaster instinctively reached into his sleeve for the invitation—and found nothing. Panic surged; he frantically patted every pocket, but found nothing.

Liu Xiaolou asked with a grin: “Did you not receive the invitation?”

Bai Yun the Swordmaster broke into a sweat, furious: “Of course I received it!”

Liu Xiaolou asked: “Then did you lose it on the way?”

After searching endlessly without success, Bai Yun muttered: “I had it—I must have had it… I’ll tell the Li family—they sent it to my villa personally—they’ll know I’m telling the truth…”

Liu Xiaolou clapped an arm around his shoulder: “Why explain anything? Our friendship doesn’t need an invitation. Just come with me!”

Dazed from losing the letter, Bai Yun the Swordmaster let himself be led to the entrance without resistance.

Liu Xiaolou turned to the steward and smiled: “Alright, we’re going in.”

The steward bowed with a smile: “Understood. Please, esteemed guests, come in and have some tea.”

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