Chapter 85: Ascend Emei

In the Yitian world, a secluded spot on Mount Emei.

Under the bright sunlight, a graceful, ethereal woman danced with her sword.

Her blade’s light was dense and continuous, like silk being drawn, like cocoons being unraveled, like the endless flow of the Yangtze River.

She moved as if a celestial maiden danced, her waist slender and supple.

Her robes fluttered with the wind, revealing her lightness and elegance.

Yet within this beautiful scene lay deadly peril.

Anyone who dared underestimate her would pay a heavy price!

Clap! Clap! Clap!

Suddenly, crisp clapping echoed into the ears of the dancing maiden.

“Who’s there?”

The maiden instantly halted her swordplay, furrowed her brows, gripped her sword tightly, and scanned her surroundings with wary eyes.

“Zhiruo’s Willow-Flower Sword Technique has deeply grasped its endless, flowing essence—she’s nearly reached perfection.”

A young man in black martial attire, carrying a bundle on his back, drifted down from a large tree.

The dancer was none other than Zhou Zhiruo, the favorite disciple of Mei Jue Shitai, the sect leader of Mount Emei.

“Jiege!”

Seeing the visitor, Zhou Zhiruo instantly lowered her guard and exclaimed with delight.

“Zhiruo, it’s been a long time.”

The young man—or rather, Zhang Jie—smiled.

“Hmph!”

“You say it’s been a long time? I heard you left the mountain over half a year ago, and only now do you come to see me!”

At these words, Zhou Zhiruo’s smile vanished instantly, and she scolded him.

‘Women—their name is fickleness.’

Facing Zhou Zhiruo, who had shifted from radiant smiles to icy coldness in a heartbeat, Zhang Jie mentally grumbled.

“Zhiruo, earlier Wujie went missing, so I went to find him first.”

“Now that I’ve found him, I came straight to Emei to see you—I haven’t even returned to Wudang yet.”

Zhang Jie skillfully used Zhang Wuji as a shield.

Hearing Zhang Wuji’s name, Zhou Zhiruo recalled the boy who once trailed behind her and Zhang Jie—

no, a friend—and her expression softened. She said sweetly:

“This time, I’ll let you off.”

‘Let me off?’

Hearing those words, Zhang Jie couldn’t help but think of a certain monk completely coated in gold paint.

“You’ve passed” had become a legendary meme among internet trolls.

“Where did you find Wujie?”

Zhou Zhiruo stepped beside Zhang Jie, walking shoulder to shoulder, curiously asking.

“Oh, it’s like this…”

Zhang Jie told Zhou Zhiruo only part of what happened at Zhu Wu Lianhuan Mountain Villa.

“Were you hurt?”

Upon hearing Zhang Jie had been ambushed by Wu Lie, Zhou Zhiruo instantly grew anxious,

her gaze sweeping over him, searching for signs of injury.

“Of course not—you know my abilities.”

Zhang Jie deliberately flexed his biceps.

“Show-off!”

Relieved, Zhou Zhiruo covered her mouth and laughed.

“I never imagined there could be such a fool in this world!”

Hearing Zhang Jie had left Zhu Changling stranded on a cliffside platform for years, Zhou Zhiruo burst into laughter.

Zhang Jie, having learned many tricks for pleasing women from the Water Margin version of himself, made Zhou Zhiruo laugh until she trembled.

One could only say: no matter whether one has martial arts or not, women are still women.

“Jiege, when will you take me to meet Master Yu Lianzhou?”

After listening to Zhang Jie’s witty words, Zhou Zhiruo softly asked.

‘This…’

Hearing this, Zhang Jie’s heart skipped a beat.

Yu Lianzhou was his master, his elder who had been like a father to him.

Zhou Zhiruo’s phrasing carried unmistakable implications.

‘Am I really about to step into the grave of marriage so soon?’

Zhang Jie sighed inwardly.

But he knew this was his own doing—he must take responsibility.

After all, when he’d learned Zhiruo would grow into a great beauty, he’d been smitten—

no, his protective feelings had burned brightly, and he’d taken special care of her.

Even after she entered Mount Emei, he often wrote her letters.

Over the years, Zhou Zhiruo had quietly fallen for him.

Though he felt he was still young and wanted to enjoy a few more years of freedom,

seeing the blush on her face and her trembling fingers clutching her sleeve,

Zhang Jie knew how much courage it had taken for her to speak those words.

If he refused now, even if she didn’t fall into despair, she’d surely carry psychological scars.

‘The hardest thing to bear is a beauty’s favor.’

Zhang Jie made his decision instantly:

“Why don’t you come back to Wudang with me this time and meet my master, my senior uncles, and my teacher uncles?”

‘Well, meeting the family doesn’t mean we have to marry right away—we can just get engaged first.’

Zhang Jie rationalized to himself.

“Alright.”

Hearing his affirmative answer, Zhou Zhiruo’s cheeks flushed crimson.

“Jiege.”

“Zhiruo.”

Their figures drew closer, about to merge together.

“Cough! Cough! Cough!”

At that moment, several coughs echoed behind them.

“Ah!”

Zhou Zhiruo jumped out of Zhang Jie’s arms like a startled fawn.

“M-Master.”

Recognizing the person, Zhou Zhiruo stammered.

The newcomer appeared to be around forty or forty-five, her features quite beautiful,

but her eyebrows slanted downward, giving her face an eerie, unnatural look—

almost like a ghost from a stage play, hanged and pale.

It was Mei Jue Shitai, the leader of Mount Emei, who had grown increasingly extreme since her brother Gu Hongzi’s death.

‘Could this old nun have been secretly spying on Zhiruo all along?

Otherwise, how could she have arrived so perfectly timed?’ Zhang Jie mentally grumbled.

Mei Jue Shitai’s expression darkened as she asked:

“Zhiruo, who is this boy?”

“Master, he’s Zhang Jie, disciple of Master Yu Lianzhou from Wudang!”

Zhou Zhiruo was surprised that Mei Jue Shitai didn’t recognize Zhang Jie.

“Third-generation Wudang disciple Zhang Jie, pays his respects to Shitai.”

Zhang Jie bowed respectfully to Mei Jue Shitai.

What else could he do? He had designs on Mei Jue Shitai’s precious jewel, after all.

“I naturally remember this brat.”

Mei Jue Shitai glared at Zhang Jie with irritation.

The brat who nearly stole her beloved disciple looked worse and worse to her.

If she hadn’t arrived just in time, who knew what those two young fools would’ve done!

“Uh.”

Facing Mei Jue Shitai’s unhidden suspicion, Zhang Jie awkwardly rubbed his nose.

Mei Jue Shitai looked at him as if he were a wild boar trying to root up her pristine, tender cabbage.

"Boy, what business brings you to Mount Emei? If you have none, go down the mountain."

Mistress Mei Jue issued her dismissal without hesitation.

"Master, Zhang Jie has just arrived—let him stay a little longer."

Upon hearing this, Zhou Zhiruo immediately protested, tugging at Mistress Mei Jue’s hand and pouting.

Facing her beloved disciple’s coquetry, a faint softness flickered across Mistress Mei Jue’s expressionless face,

but when she saw Zhou Zhiruo’s gaze fixed unwaveringly on Zhang Jie, she made up her mind at once:

"No. My Emei Sect has only female disciples—we cannot let a man spend the night!"

If she let this rascal stay on the mountain any longer, she dared not imagine what might happen!

'I say, Emei isn’t without male disciples—this old nun is clearly targeting me!'

Zhang Jie mentally grumbled, recalling Mistress Mei Jue’s elder brother, Gu Hongzi.

Though he grumbled inwardly, his expression remained unchanged:

"I have come to Mount Emei with a matter of importance to discuss with Mistress."

"An important matter? When did Wudang’s important matters fall to you to handle?"

Mistress Mei Jue frowned slightly.

The second-generation Wudang disciples—Song Yuanqiao, Yu Lianzhou, and others—are now in their prime,

so even if there were important matters, they should be the ones to come forward.

You, Zhang Jie, are merely a third-generation junior—you cannot represent Wudang.

Aware of his low seniority, Zhang Jie did not take offense:

"The matter I wish to discuss with Mistress concerns the Yi Tian Sword and the Tu Long Dao!"

As he spoke of the Yi Tian Sword and Tu Long Dao, Zhang Jie uttered each word deliberately.

"The Yi Tian Sword and Tu Long Dao?"

Upon hearing those two names, Mistress Mei Jue’s eyes turned instantly dangerous.

'Could Wudang have learned that secret?'

Mistress Mei Jue speculated, but she crushed the thought at once:

'That secret should have been known only to our founding ancestress, Guo Xiang, a hundred years ago.

Since then, it has been passed orally only among successive Emei sect leaders—never written down.'

At that moment, Mistress Mei Jue recalled the hundred-year-old Daoist on Wudang Mountain.

A common person should not know that secret—but that hundred-year-old Daoist, still full of vigor,

made one suspect he had already attained the realm of a terrestrial immortal!

Thinking of the relationship between the venerable Zhang Sanfeng and her sect’s founding ancestress Guo Xiang, Mistress Mei Jue mused:

'If that old Daoist knew even a fragment of the secret, it would not be impossible.'

Had our founding ancestress Guo Xiang not fallen instantly in love with the Divine Condor Hero Yang Guo,

and had her heart not been forever closed to any other man,

Emei might well have become one family with Wudang.

Alas, though Guo Xiang’s heart was set, the divine maiden remained unmoved—Guo Xiang and Zhang Sanfeng were destined never to be together…