Chapter 55: Chapter Fifty-Five: The Maiden

The aura of flight was dazzling and brilliant, its gentle trail like colorful silk threads dancing in the air, rich and splendid beyond compare.

Standing within the aura was a girl of seventeen or eighteen, with phoenix-like eyebrows and refined eyes, as lovely as a painted scroll; her glances carried an innate vivacity and spirit, and with her flushed cheeks, she seemed even more vivid and charming.

“Master…”

Tu Shan Ge spread his hands.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to avoid them—only that the Mo Yun Flying Boat, though beautiful, was merely an inferior talisman artifact, its speed far inferior to that of a floating pavilion ship.

Even as he pushed himself to the limit, within half a cup of tea’s time, they caught up to him.

“The Canhe Car is faster, but it can carry only one person—I can’t tie you and Tu Shan Zhuang to the back with ropes and treat you like kites, can I?”

Chen Hang shook his head.

He condensed mist beneath his feet, lifting his form out of the flying boat, and bowed respectfully from afar.

“Sister Zhu, long time no see.”

After bowing, Chen Hang said: “You entered the Dao before me; those who attain mastery come first—I cannot accept the title of senior brother.”

The newcomer was a member of the Zhu family of Lan Liang City, named Zhu WanZhi; shortly after birth, she had been noticed and taken as a disciple by a Lianshi from Bai He Cave, who brought her back to the sect to study the Dao.

Although Chen Hang’s former self had heard the name, he had never seen her face.

Only recently, when he returned to Lan Liang City with Xu Zhi from Xuan Zhen Sect, had he coincidentally encountered Zhu WanZhi, who was leading her clan on a hunting expedition.

It was from Zhu WanZhi’s lips that Chen Hang learned the full story behind the Yang Shan Daoist’s persecution of the Chen clan, allowing him to prepare in advance.

But their encounter had been but a single meeting.

After the Yang Shan Daoist’s death and Chen Hang’s seizure of his ritual ground, they had not met again.

According to Tu Shan Ge, while Chen Hang was in seclusion within the mountain’s quiet chamber, Zhu WanZhi had sought him out several times.

But at that time, Chen Hang was busy studying the methods of the Lian Qi Art, naturally leaving no time for other matters, and thus repeatedly missed her.

“Senior Brother Chen.”

Seeing Chen Hang step out of the flying boat, Zhu WanZhi exclaimed joyfully:

“Why have you avoided me so many times? If I hadn’t seen Tu Shan Shen Zhu today, I wouldn’t have known you were aboard this boat…”

Zhu WanZhi acted as if she hadn’t heard his words, cheerfully saying: “Senior Brother, please come inside for a chat! This floating pavilion ship is a new treasure of Brother Zhou—there are several Bai He Cave brothers inside; let me introduce you to them!”

Bai He Cave, like Lian Yan Mountain and Huan Hua Sword Sect, was one of the few nearby forces with a Dong Xuan Lianshi in residence.

Thirty years ago, when Xuan Zhen Sect’s master Ai Jian sought to seize Xiao Gan Mountain as his sect’s foundation, he had clashed with these houses, killing many Daoists.

The then Grand Elder of Huan Hua Sword Sect, famed as the First Sword Master of the Six States, had been so terrified by Ai Jian’s flying sword that his corpse was cut cleanly into three pieces.

Because of this, Xuan Zhen Sect had always maintained distant relations with nearby cultivation houses, rarely interacting.

Only after Ai Jian’s cultivation base advanced further did relations gradually ease; during festivals and ritual gatherings, these sects would still send gifts to show respect.

Hearing Zhu WanZhi’s invitation,

Chen Hang silently assessed.

He saw that the three or five qi signatures within the floating pavilion ship were not particularly strong—if he moved, killing them all would not be difficult.

Meanwhile, the floating pavilion ship hung quietly a hundred zhang away, as if waiting for them.

After a brief hesitation, he no longer refused Zhu WanZhi’s persistent entreaty, giving a slight nod and following her forward.

The pavilion ship was entirely golden, its hull flat and elongated like a large wutong leaf, spacious and grand; upon closer inspection, it was divided into three levels, with all doors and windows on the main deck wide open, the interior elegantly arranged, and when lanterns blazed, the hall shimmered with splendor.

Merely by its spiritual aura, one could tell it was an excellent mid-grade talisman artifact—far superior to Chen Hang’s Mo Yun Flying Boat, and even the Canhe Car paled in comparison.

When Chen Hang and Zhu WanZhi descended into the main hall,

A young Daoist in a reed hat and straw cloak, with snowy white hair, immediately rose and greeted them with a loud laugh.

“Long time to hear of you, Brother Chen! Your great deeds in Yuan Jing have saved the Rong family—your grace is entirely responsible for their survival!”

He bowed and said: “I am Zhou Xingling of Bai He Cave; my master, Jiang Gulian, has a deep friendship with your sect’s Elder Gu Jun. I’ve long heard Sister Zhu speak of your brilliance—today’s meeting truly surpasses even the tales! I am utterly humbled!”

Upon hearing this, Zhu WanZhi beside Chen Hang blushed crimson, even her ears burning hot.

The many Bai He Cave disciples burst into laughter, clapping their hands.

“Brother Zhou is too kind—it makes me deeply ashamed.”

Chen Hang glanced around and saw the hall was spacious enough to hold fifty people; eight or nine Bai He Cave disciples sat at the tables, nodding respectfully as his gaze passed over them.

“But how could I, of all people, dare to harbor affection for such a radiant lady?”

Chen Hang smiled lightly: “Though I am unworthy, I would never dare to tarnish Sister Zhu’s reputation—please, dear brothers, don’t jest about this.”

“I—”

Zhu WanZhi grew flustered.

Zhou Xingling shot her a look, signaling her not to panic—he still had a plan.

He promptly pulled Chen Hang to the seat, poured him wine himself, and began chatting merrily.

Though hurt, Zhu WanZhi could only return to her seat, silently watching them converse.

Meanwhile,

As the conversation deepened, Zhou Xingling’s expression shifted from surprise to increasing delight.

He knew Chen Hang well—a poor soul forcibly taken by Yan Zhen to Xuan Zhen Sect as a concubine.

Had Yan Zhen not suddenly died, he would have spent his life imprisoned on Xiao Gan Mountain.

Zhou Xingling had initially only taken interest because his little sister had become infatuated with Chen Hang after just one meeting, to the point of losing her appetite and growing thin.

And today’s chance encounter was truly fortuitous!

That was why he had to swallow his pride and play the role of Yue He Old Man.

But arranging a match was his first time—he had no idea what to say, and was utterly bewildered.

His fellow disciples were equally useless, staring blankly at each other; not helping was the best they could manage!

In his desperation, Zhou Xingling’s mind raced, and he blurted out a Daoist question from his own cultivation doubts—but as soon as the words left his mouth, he realized his mistake and hurried to apologize.

Unexpectedly, Chen Hang answered casually, his reasoning clear and orderly, leaving Zhou Xingling awed and even more astonished.

He probed further with several more questions, and each time, Chen Hang’s answers hit the mark.

Thus,

Not only was Zhou Xingling overjoyed, but the Bai He Cave disciples also erupted in excitement.

They exchanged numerous debate topics: “Heaven and Earth co-arise, Yang flourishes, Yin lies dormant,” “Twelve-month cultivation,” “Clasping the fists to summon life,” “Solitary still sitting,” “Breaking the Sheep Cart,” and more…

Though Chen Hang had only recently arrived in this world, he had voraciously studied countless Daoist texts in the Zhen Fa Realm, gaining a rough but complete grasp of their principles.

Moreover, he had cultivated the Divine Chamber Pivot Splendor Daoist’s Discourse on the Primordial True Scripture.

With such a lofty perspective, even if Zhou Xingling and his Bai He Cave disciples posed sharp, obscure questions, Chen Hang could not always fully explain them—but he could point out key insights.

Seizing the opportunity, Chen Hang also asked several questions about his own Lian Qi practice.

Though these Bai He Cave disciples came from a minor sect, they had been trained since childhood under master guidance, absorbing knowledge through constant exposure—their insights were far from shallow.

Amidst their chatter, they cleared up most of his confusion.

Thus, both sides were delighted, feeling they had met too late.

Zhu WanZhi waited half an hour, but the conversation showed no sign of ending—it veered further and further from Lian Qi and dieting, turning instead to alchemy, sword arts, health preservation, and strengthening blood and qi.

She listened in stunned silence, finally unable to bear it, and repeatedly sent mental messages urging Zhou Xingling and the others to stop.

But these Bai He Cave Daoists were in the midst of profound insight—they paid no heed, treating her messages as mere background noise.

Only after another fifteen minutes, when even Zhou Xingling felt mentally drained and paused to drink tea, did the debate temporarily cease.

“Brother Chen is truly a celestial being! When Brother Xiahou asked me about the term ‘leaping,’ I could grasp it vaguely but could not articulate it properly—I asked my master, who grew impatient and told me to read more Daoist texts…”

Zhou Xingling drank deeply of his tea and exclaimed:

“Yet Brother Chen resolved it in just a few words—what extraordinary breadth of knowledge!”

At his words, the Bai He Cave disciples all cheered in unison.

The tall, stout Brother Xiahou sighed and bowed repeatedly to Chen Hang in thanks.

“With Brother Chen’s explanation, I won’t fear being beaten with the rod during the next exam.”

He shook his head, smiling bitterly: “Heaven have mercy—my flesh is so thick I don’t seem like a Lian Qi cultivator at all, but more like a street-fighting primordial martial artist.”

“Primordial Yang sinks and hides as latent; it rises and leaps as active. The Dry Dragon is latent when still, leaps when moving—all governed by the mind’s subtle motion.”

Chen Hang smiled faintly: “I merely happened to remember this—I don’t deserve praise. I thank you all for answering my questions; you’ve lifted a great confusion from my heart.”

“Brother Chen is truly a pity…”

Zhou Xingling looked at him with complex emotion, his tone filled with regret:

“I often hear my master say that Xuan Zhen Sect’s master Ai Jian has no intention of teaching—he treats disciples as private property, as servants, never as true heirs… Though this sect dominates the region and we cannot resist it, it is doomed to collapse; once a great upheaval comes, it will scatter like birds and beasts.”

“If only you had joined Bai He Cave.”

Zhou Xingling sighed again: “Bai He Cave is but a minor sect, but our elders are approachable; though they scheme, they never cross the line. Had you been my junior brother, my master would have been delighted!”

Chen Hang only smiled without speaking.

Zhou Xingling realized he had been too forward, shook his head, and fell silent.

He now felt Chen Hang was a refined man—beyond his extraordinary beauty, his speech, talent, and bearing were the finest he had ever encountered.

As he reconsidered his little sister’s feelings, he began to hesitate.

“Sister Zhu seems vastly unsuited to him—even if I forced a match, it would hardly end well…”

Zhou Xingling secretly glanced at Zhu WanZhi, thinking to himself:

“Besides, Brother Chen clearly has no feelings for her—why should I make him angry and lose a Dao friend who can debate and discuss with me?”

With this thought,

Zhou Xingling felt as if a great stone had been lifted from his chest, his whole body light and free.

Zhu WanZhi, however, felt today’s encounter was utterly absurd.

It was she who had begged her fellow sect brothers to arrange a match for her—how had it turned out that the men ended up chatting enthusiastically among themselves?

Had she been pushed to the side?

“Brother Chen, in a few days, the Immortal Market of Master Huaiwu will open. Will you go?”

Zhou Xingling, having completely set aside his worries, had long forgotten his junior sister’s affairs; upon hearing this, the other Baihe Cave disciples chimed in with chatter.

“Master Huaiwu…”

Chen Hang strained his memory and finally recalled the name, then asked curiously:

“I heard this man went to the Eastern Sea to seek the Dragon, moved his base from the Southern Region years ago, and was to become a son-in-law of the Dragon Palace—how is he back now?”

“To marry a Dragon Princess is no easy feat! Master Huaiwu is merely a lone cultivator, not a prodigy of the Eight Sects or Six Clans. I’ve heard those ancient Dragons value status above all—how could they possibly look upon him?”

One Baihe Cave disciple shook his head: “Even if Master Huaiwu has reached the Profound Cave realm, he can only marry a Shell Maiden, a Pearl Maiden, or a Jiao Maiden. As for a Dragon Princess—that’s beyond our wildest dreams.”

“But before Master Huaiwu left for the Eastern Sea, his Immortal Market was always in the central Southern Region. Now that he’s returned to the Southern Region, he’s building his Immortal Market right here—close to our sect gate! What great fortune!”

The Baihe Cave disciple handed Chen Hang a jade slip:

“Brother Chen, here’s the information. If you have time, be sure to attend the ceremony—on that day, Master Huaiwu might be in a good mood and grant us some reward!”

“Thank you, Senior Brother—I’ll accept it with gratitude.”

Chen Hang bowed in thanks and tucked the jade slip into his sleeve.

He had no reason to linger.

After exchanging a few more words, he politely declined the Baihe Cave disciples’ invitation to stay up all night, and took his leave beneath Wen Wanzi’s complex gaze.

Not long after Chen Hang departed, another brilliant, radiant cultivation light, like a rainbow stretching across water, descended into the hall.

“Sister Wen? You’re a bit late.”

The rainbow-like light faded, revealing a woman in plain white robes standing in the hall.

Her figure was slender and graceful, poised and elegant; though she wore a veil and light gauze obscuring her features, merely from her willow-like, springlike contours, one knew she was a beauty of unparalleled charm.

Upon her appearance, all the Baihe Cave disciples flushed and dared not raise their eyes—only Zhou Xingling retained some composure.

“What nonsense! Are you imitating Buddhist monks with their riddles? Speak plainly!”

Beside the woman stood a plump girl in green robes, her cheeks and arms round and chubby; she thrust her hands on her hips and shouted:

“Would arriving earlier let me bury you?”

“...” Zhou Xingling sighed wryly, unfazed by the green-robed girl’s rudeness.

“Just a short while ago, Brother Chen Hang of the Xuanzhen Sect left—he’s truly a celestial being, his bearing and manners impeccable!”

Zhou Xingling said solemnly: “Sister Wen, if you met him, you two would have much to discuss.”

“Chen Hang? What a ridiculous name—so awkward to say.”

The green-robed girl blinked, then whispered secretly:

“Miss, this idiot from the Southern Region—why does the person he mentioned sound familiar?”

“When Auntie visited Xuanzhen Sect’s Ai Jian, she once saw a beautiful youth and couldn’t stop talking about him to me—unfortunately, he wasn’t the Yin Celestial Lord.”

The woman whispered back, her voice soft and melodious, like two fine jade pendants gently clinking:

“His name is Chen Hang.”