Chapter 709: The Third Master

“It’s your senior brother’s sword intent—you’ve known all along, haven’t you?”

“Of course, you and your senior brother are close friends; he never hides anything from you.”

On the fifth floor of the academy’s Cultivation Hall, sandalwood incense curled gently.

The fifth floor was the academy’s most sacred place; ordinary disciples were not permitted to ascend.

Originally, there had been a low white bed and a desk.

Now!

The latticed windows filtered the twilight into tiny golden specks, scattering them between the robes of the two men seated opposite each other.

Between them stood a small tea table.

One of the men was a middle-aged figure of tall stature, wearing a slightly faded Confucian scholar’s robe that somehow radiated an indescribable nobility and elegance, as if the garment owed its splendor to him.

His smooth black hair fell loosely over his shoulders; his features were ordinary, yet somehow combined on his face into an unexpectedly striking beauty.

The other was Xie Hong, his eyes shadowed with melancholy.

“Third Master, are you truly unaware?”

The Confucian-robed man across from him was the revered Third Master of the academy.

Third Master smiled and shook his head. “Chongshan, you rarely come to the Cultivation Hall—this isn’t the right topic to bring up.”

Among the academy’s four Masters, each had their own character.

Second Master spoke the least and was the coldest.

First Master was gentle and warm, the peacemaker among them, always courteous to everyone.

Third Master was born a true scion of a great clan, raised in silk and jade; when he roamed the martial world, everything seemed new to him, and thus he developed a habit of endless chatter—he spoke the most.

But these past years, as he managed the academy, those he could truly converse with grew fewer.

The last time he met Su Jing, it was clear they had long since taken different paths, so there was nothing left to say.

Xie Hong and Second Master got along well—like a lonely pine reflected in a cold pool, both quiet and taciturn by nature.

Third Master spoke: “You’ve come for Xie Guan? After all, he’s still a member of your Xie family, the bloodline of your brother Xie Ling.”

“He’s caused a great disaster today—do you expect my academy to protect him?”

“Yet this is strange. You clearly knew what would happen today—why didn’t you stop him? Even if you wouldn’t stop him, you could have prevented it from occurring.”

The tea’s surface mirrored Third Master’s half-smile: “Chongshan, after all these years, I still don’t understand you.”

“What is it you truly seek?”

In Bianjing, rumors spread that Xie Hong was the candidate Second Master wished to adopt as a disciple, to make him the academy’s Fifth Master—but later, the “Strife of Three and Four” arose, and the matter was abandoned.

In truth, Xie Hong himself refused it.

Of the academy’s four Masters, Su Jing had the worst relationship with Xie Hong, followed by First Master; outside of Second Master, Third Master knew Xie Hong best.

“Third Master, haven’t you asked Xie Hong this question many times before?”

Third Master gently set down his teacup. “Asking and knowing are two different things.”

He gazed out the window at the twilight. “In Bianjing, I can guess Su Jing’s intentions, but not his methods; I can foresee the direction of Second Brother’s sword intent, yet I cannot tell from where his blade will strike.”

He turned back, his gaze piercing: “Even the Masters’ thoughts, I can fathom somewhat. But you—”

“For these past twenty years, I’ve never been able to see what you truly want.”

“The Xie family? Power? Reputation? You seem to care for none of it. You don’t even care for your wife, nor do you acknowledge your offspring.”

“All these years, the only thing I’ve ever seen you truly care about is Second Master’s ascension.”

Third Master leaned forward slightly. “Now, there’s a second thing—Xie Guan.”

Xie Hong’s fingers twitched imperceptibly on the table, yet he remained silent as stone.

Third Master continued: “At the Gathering of the Hundred Flowers, you let that dragon fight Xie Guan—you must have already sealed its cultivation, otherwise a great demon from Ze Lake, nearly approaching the rank of a supreme master, even with Xie Guan’s Seven Swords United, could never pierce its scales—how could he possibly kill it?”

Outside, wind swept through the bamboo grove, rustling softly.

“That dragon’s corpse was used by Sima Ting to forge a sword.”

Third Master’s voice flowed like a cold spring: “Among today’s sword users, aside from Second Master, the others are not in Bianjing. Is this sword meant for Xie Guan?”

Xie Hong finally lifted his eyes—his gaze like a bottomless cold pool, yet he said nothing.

Third Master studied Xie Hong’s calm expression, then lifted his teacup and blew gently; the tea’s fragrance curled upward.

“Though I cannot fathom why you act this way, I sense something…”

Third Master paused, then changed the subject:

“I once heard a tale: in the mountains, there was a small pond, its waters clear, fish playing within. One day, a fish unlike the others appeared, always gazing beyond the pond’s edge.”

“The other fish, noticing its strangeness, asked why. That fish replied…”

Here, Third Master paused, his gaze deep, as if waiting.

Xie Hong finally spoke, his voice tinged with melancholy: “Rather than a fish, it’s more like a frog in a well—a frog that never belonged to that well.”

Third Master smiled faintly. “A summer cicada cannot comprehend ice? Or has the frog in the well glimpsed the vastness beyond?”

Xie Hong said nothing, only remained silent.

Third Master asked: “Chongshan, what is your true essence?”

“The world assumes that when you trained at Qingliang Temple, you were secretly accumulating cultivation, aiming for the Yangshen Realm.”

“Yet in truth, when you left Bianjing twelve years ago for Qingliang Temple, you had already forged your true essence, correct?”

Xie Hong gave a slight nod—his tacit confirmation.

This was a secret even the Nine Great Clans did not know.

The world believed Xie Hong had entered the Yangshen Realm, unaware that during the palace coup twelve years ago, he had already forged his true essence and embarked on a different path of cultivation.

Third Master had risen and stood by the window. “Xie Guan’s actions today will not be pursued—though I mean today only.”

“But Wu Xin cannot bear for Xie Guan to die, yet he must let him die.”

“In less than half a year, if Xie Guan cannot prove himself, no one can save him.”

Su Jing’s courtesy name is Wu Xin!

Third Master changed the subject again: “Chongshan, do you think Wu Xin fears? The Master has left Bianjing and gone to the Red-Eyed Army.”

“Will the Red-Eyed Heavenly King become the Master—or will the Master become the Red-Eyed Heavenly King?”

Xie Hong spoke rarely: “The current Su Xiang may not fear the Master, but he certainly fears him.”

Third Master chuckled softly. “Chongshan, do you know what I seek?”

Xie Hong shook his head. “I do not know.”

“But I know you will not block my path.”

Third Master’s smile deepened. “What if we are already on the same path?”

Xie Hong’s gaze was calm: “We are not on the same path—we are—”

He paused. “The world has only one path left to walk.”

Third Master gazed into the distance; the night wind lifted his sleeves. “All beings strive to cross… strive to cross.”

Silence fell within the fifth floor.

Xie Hong asked: “Third Master, what is your true essence?”

Third Master looked out at the scenery—the sun setting behind the mountain—and smiled. “Wu Xin asked me. Your senior brother asked me. Even the Master asked me. Yet I never answered.”

“Today, I will tell you.”

He spoke slowly: “The lamp-lit dream of yellow millet.”

Xie Hong’s brow flickered with hesitation, then relaxed; he regarded the academy’s Third Master anew.

Third Master turned to face him. “Chongshan, won’t you go home today? Such a great event has happened in your household.”

Though the academy claimed to confine Xie Hong,

in truth, he came and went as he pleased.

Xie Hong shook his head, voice low: “He died because of Xie Guan—but not by Xie Guan’s hand.”

“Every cause bears its fruit.”

Third Master asked: “How long until Bianjing falls?”

He sighed. “It seems it will come sooner.”

“The Great Sui is crumbling; the Celestial Mandate of Changsheng Tian is shaken; the Golden Bodies of the Buddhist realm are cracking.”

His finger traced the patterns on the window lattice. “As for those three foreign princes—who still cares?”

“The world’s calamity has only just begun.”

Xie Hong also gazed out the window, his dull eyes growing more desolate.

“So many must die for this path.”

“Dreams cross the sea to ancient mulberry trees; I’ve witnessed the Milky Way’s storms.”

Third Master asked: “Is it worth it?”

Xie Hong murmured: “In dreams, one forgets one is but a guest… ten years of traces, ten years of heart.”

～

(End of Chapter)