SS CH98

Ye Fusheng and the others did not have a peaceful journey.

The invitations to the Grand Martial Assembly had been dispatched to the three mountains and four seas long ago. Every sect with any standing in the martial world had sent representatives to Wuxiang Temple. Consequently, they encountered numerous martial artists along the road to Xichuan. It was a chaotic melting pot of monsters, demons, and every sort of shady character imaginable, providing an eye-opening experience for Young Palace Master Xuan Su, who rarely ever stepped outside his sect.

Where there are many people, friction easily ignites. They witnessed countless major and minor conflicts along the way. Sometimes it was a narrow encounter with demonic and unorthodox factions; other times, it was internal discord springing up among the so-called orthodox sects. It was truly a headache to watch.

Duanheng, the most senior member of the group, turned a deaf ear to it all. He rode with his eyes closed, adjusting his breath while letting his horse wander freely. It was a mystery what kind of divine steed that skinny horse was, as it never threw him off and followed the others with steady steps, never falling behind once.

Since Duanheng didn’t speak, the two monks, Hengming and Hengyuan, also minded their own business. Ye Fusheng easily distracted the somewhat eager Xuan Su with bizarre tales and strange anecdotes from across the world, managing to keep things quiet for the journey.

Xuan Su possessed a pure, innocent heart, which was a good thing. However, destined for a high position, such naivety would inevitably become a weakness.

He had excellent talent but far too little life experience. These were things others could not simply teach him; he had to observe, experience, and comprehend them himself.

Without accumulating small steps, one cannot reach a thousand miles.

After traveling for ten days, the dust-covered group arrived in Jialan City.

Xichuan revered Buddhism, and many towns were named after Buddhist culture. Located on the border between Xichuan and the Central Capital, Jialan City, despite its name, was practically just a large town.

Jialan City served as a logistics and distribution hub. Its permanent population was smaller than the transient merchants and travelers passing through. Therefore, the city boasted numerous post houses and inns, becoming even more bustling and brightly lit at night, with a constant flow of carriages and horses.

A hundred miles past Jialan City lay Mount Wenshan, where Wuxiang Temple was located. Therefore, even though it wasn’t the peak trading season, almost all the inns in the city, big or small, were fully booked. Martial artists rushing from all directions had practically taken over the city, making the event far more spectacular and grandiose than the Seizing-Blade Challenge at Duanshui Villa back then.

The group finally managed to find a large inn with available rooms and booked the last twelve empty ones.

As the elder, Duanheng naturally got a single room. Hengming and Hengyuan shared one, while Ye Fusheng stayed with Xie Li and Xuan Su. The remaining nine rooms were crammed with three or four people each. At the very least, they finally had a place to rest.

Accustomed to traveling far and wide, Ye Fusheng easily struck up a friendly rapport with the inn staff. He ordered several tables of food, specifically requesting a vegetarian meal for one of them. Only after quietly verifying the food’s safety did he return to his seat. Seeing Duanheng, who sat at the head of the table, pause his chopsticks and reach around to the side, Ye Fusheng suddenly felt the urge to laugh.

The square table was quite large, and Duanheng was thin and small, so naturally, his arms weren’t long enough to reach the fish soup placed further away. Ye Fusheng picked up an empty bowl, scooped six spoonfuls, and placed it in front of Duanheng. The old man glanced at him and then looked away, acting as if he hadn’t seen him at all, entirely ignoring the bowl of fish soup.

Not feeling awkward in the slightest, Ye Fusheng reached back and scooped a bowl for Xie Li, then picked up a piece of fried steamed bun and slowly gnawed on it. Xuan Su, on the other hand, hesitated to speak but ultimately remained silent.

Even if he didn’t say anything, Ye Fusheng could feel it.

Duanheng really didn’t like him. Along the way, the little old man had been amiable to Xuan Su, endlessly patient with Xie Li, and managed the disciples well. Yet, when it came to Ye Fusheng, he found fault in everything, practically wanting to snort out of his nostrils with every breath he took.

After eating, everyone returned to their rooms to rest. Seeing that it was still early and Xie Li was still quite energetic, Ye Fusheng decided to take him out for a stroll—firstly to aid digestion, secondly for fun, and perhaps even to gather some information.

The moment he stepped over the threshold, Xuan Su caught up with him.

The Young Palace Master was still dressed in Daoist robes and a mask, but without the elders around, he inevitably displayed more of a young man’s vitality. Walking beside Ye Fusheng, he smiled, “Are you going out? Take me with you.”

Considering this was a “sheltered young lady” experiencing the world for the first time, Ye Fusheng nodded his agreement.

With Xuan Su on his left and holding Xie Li’s hand on his right, both the adult and the child were incredibly inexperienced, finding every strange trinket fascinating. Ye Fusheng felt less like he was strolling through the streets and more like he was taking two kids to a country fair.

Ye Fusheng bought each of them a stick of osmanthus sugar paste. As a child, Xie Li accepted it without any pressure. Xuan Su remained silent for a moment before taking it, his ears turning red.

Ye Fusheng felt deeply that these two were very easy to manage—much cuter than Chu Xiwei, who used to throw little tantrums at the drop of a hat.

Yet, whenever he thought of Chu Xiwei, he couldn’t help but recall those soul-shaking words and that crazed, lingering kiss.

He had missed ten years of time. That innocent, delicate little disciple had grown into a man of imposing, dignified character. Not only had his appearance and voice drastically changed, but he had also developed an unfathomable depth of shrewdness and thought.

These past few days, Ye Fusheng had pondered endlessly, yet he still couldn’t figure out exactly when Chu Xiwei’s feelings toward him had changed.

What he couldn’t untangle even more were his own feelings.

As a teacher, one couldn’t be too shameless. Setting aside their complicated history of gratitude and grudges, just the phrase “the ethics of master and disciple” alone could invite the condemnation of thousands.

Ye Fusheng could ignore it. After all, during his time as a Lueying shadow guard, he didn’t know how many people had denounced him with pens and swords. Aside from his closest family and friends, the opinions of others were merely wind past his ears, not even as loud as a passing fart.

But he absolutely could not tolerate anyone poking Chu Xiwei in the spine for any reason.

Chu Xiwei was actually only in his early twenties, but the path he had walked was far more rugged than others. He had finally climbed to a high position, yet it was at the very teeth of the storm.

Even though Chu Xiwei never spoke a single extra word about it, Ye Fusheng knew exactly how difficult it was for him.

He should have cut the tangled mess with a sharp knife, but every time he recalled Chu Xiwei’s final embrace and his trembling words, he simply couldn’t find it in himself to extinguish this inappropriate hope.

A simple “impossible” was easy to say, but if not handled properly, it could easily push a person standing on the edge of a cliff straight into the bottomless abyss.

Furthermore, when Chu Xiwei spoke those words, what surged up in Ye Fusheng’s heart wasn’t just shock, but also an inexplicable spark of joy.

Why was he shocked? Why was he joyful?

A momentary lapse in judgment was difficult to explain. Right now, it wasn’t just a tangled mess; it was as if countless vines had grown out, tightly binding the two of them together, making it difficult for either to break free.

“There’s a teahouse ahead. Why don’t we go sit for a while?” Xuan Su’s voice suddenly rang out. Snapping out of his thoughts, Ye Fusheng realized they had already walked past more than half the street.

A restless mind is a massive taboo for martial artists, yet Ye Fusheng’s emotional fluctuations had been growing increasingly severe lately.

His heart tightened, and a sharp pain pierced his brain. The pain came and went quickly, merely causing his face to pale for a second.

But he was not unfamiliar with this sensation.

The Youmeng poison, which Sun Minfeng had previously suppressed, was acting up again after his repeated reckless use of true qi and emotional turbulence.

Quietly clenching his left hand into a fist, he took two deep breaths to clear his mind. Catching Xie Li looking up at him, he smiled. “That sounds good.”

Xuan Su smiled and entered the teahouse first.

Business was good; the first floor was fully occupied, so the waiter led them up to the second floor. Although Young Palace Master Xuan Su hadn’t experienced the world much, the Taishang Palace was wealthy, so he simply asked for a private room. Pushing open the window offered a view of the bustling street below while avoiding unnecessary prying eyes and disturbances.

Once the tea and snacks were served and the room was devoid of outsiders, Ye Fusheng placed a taro roll on Xie Li’s plate, then smiled at Xuan Su. “Does Shixiong have something to say?”

“About Martial Uncle Duanheng… please don’t be angry.” Xuan Su poured him a cup of tea. “Martial Uncle is a very good person. Although he’s a bit strict, he has always taken care of the younger generation.”

Ye Fusheng feigned a sigh. “I suppose I must have some flaws.”

Xuan Su was indeed completely fooled. Glancing at Xie Li, whose ears were practically perked up, he carefully weighed his words. “It is not your fault. Martial Uncle Duanheng… just harbors some grievances toward your esteemed master.”

Ye Fusheng thought to himself, I knew it.

While he didn’t think he was universally loved, he knew he didn’t have a face that naturally invited disgust. Plus, this was his first time meeting Duanheng, so there couldn’t possibly be any accumulated resentment. The problem, therefore, likely stemmed from his identity.

Recalling his casual joke about “eloping” back then, and then thinking of Duanqing’s “Yes,” his entire being was instantly ignited by a burning desire for gossip, unable to suppress his excitement.

Trying hard not to make his expression too exaggerated, Ye Fusheng picked up his teacup to hide the upward curve of his lips and sighed heavily. “Shifu treated me as her own child, so it is only natural for a disciple to repay their master’s debts. However, as a junior, I do not know the details of those past events. I only hope Senior Brother can give me a few pointers, so I know how to make amends.”

Xuan Su coughed lightly. Seeing Xie Li also look up, he felt the awkwardness of airing dirty laundry in public.

Resting a hand on Xie Li’s head, Ye Fusheng looked at Xuan Su with an expression that said he had much to say but hesitated to speak.

Xuan Su: “…”

He took a sip of tea and said with difficulty, “Actually… I only heard this from the older members of the sect, and i-it might not necessarily be true…”

Ye Fusheng listened intently, while Xie Li held his breath in anticipation.

“It is said that over thirty years ago, when Martial Uncle Duanqing was wandering the martial world, an accident occurred. He was brought back to Zuowang Peak by my Shifu and ordered to be confined…” Pausing, Xuan Su rubbed his nose. “As a result, with the help of Sect Master Shen of the Hundred Ghosts Sect, your esteemed master charged up the mountain gate, fighting her way from the Qingming Path all the way to Qishuang Courtyard, bluntly demanding to see Martial Uncle Duanqing. She even knelt before the memorial tablets of past generations and swore a vow to grow old together. In the e-end, Martial Uncle Duanqing agreed to it. When Martial Uncle Duanheng and the others tried to stop them from descending the mountain, they were defeated by your esteemed master…”

His words were somewhat vague, but anyone with a brain could imagine just how tragic the aftermath must have been for the Taishang Palace.

Xie Li: “…”

Ye Fusheng: “…”

Incredible, my Shifu… You finally played out the full set of arson, murder, and pillaging. Truly worthy of being a female bandit who sells her courage by the pound and supports the heavens with her iron bones.

Ye Fusheng no longer minded Duanheng’s bad temper. The fact that the little old man hadn’t directly sent him to see his Shifu with a palm strike showed impeccable cultivation.

He silently drank a cup of tea to calm his shock. Looking down at the dumbfounded Xie Li, he kindly offered him a piece of osmanthus cake. “Be a good boy. What did you hear just now?”

His tone sounded exactly like a mountain hag kidnapping children. Xie Li’s neck shivered. Refusing the cake, he slumped directly onto the table and pretended to sleep; a wise man submits to circumstances.

Slowly gnawing on a pastry, Ye Fusheng said to Xuan Su, “This child has a very promising future.”

Xuan Su: “…”

Although they had never met, judging the master by the disciple, he could roughly imagine what kind of person Senior Gu had been when she was alive.

Having resolved a doubt in his heart, Ye Fusheng was in a great mood. Seeing the Young Palace Master still looking somewhat dazed, he couldn’t help but ask, “The Taishang Palace is a place of Daoist cultivation, so marriage is forbidden?”

Xuan Su shook his head. “That is not the case. Although the Taishang Palace is founded upon Daoist teachings and requires self-cultivation and restraint, we emphasize ‘following the natural course and finding peace within.’ As long as one does not violate right from wrong, justice, or commit acts against heaven and reason, there are not too many restrictions.”

Now Ye Fusheng was curious. Sensing his confusion, Xuan Su continued, “Although the Taishang Palace does not forbid disciples from marriage and secular affairs, the direct disciples of the Sect Master are forbidden from doing so.”

“Why?”

After thinking for a moment, Xuan Su explained, “The supreme mental cultivation method of the Taishang Palace, the Wuji Gong, has historically only been passed down to the direct disciples of the Sect Master. This art transitions from cultivating the mind to forging the body, meaning one’s state of mind drastically impacts their martial progress. Therefore, to practice it smoothly, the cultivator must experience three stages: leaving the world, entering the world, and transcending the world. From initial unrestrained passion to the final severing of all emotion and love, only then can one achieve the state of ‘Supreme Severance of Emotion’.”

Ye Fusheng frowned.

One who achieves the supreme severance of emotion is entirely impartial, unmoved by emotion, and undisturbed by feelings.

The Dao De Jing, Chapter 7, states: “Heaven and Earth are enduring. The reason Heaven and Earth can endure and last a long time is that they do not live for themselves; therefore, they can live long. Therefore, the Sage places himself behind and thus finds himself in front; he ignores his own self and thus preserves his own self. Is it not because he has no private interests? Hence, he is able to accomplish his private interests.”

But can a person truly discard all selfish desires and distracting thoughts, forgetting all emotions and worldly desires?

He recalled Duanqing’s appearance, unchanged for decades, his head of snow-white hair, and how, since their reunion, that face had never shown joy, anger, sorrow, or happiness; even his speech lacked the slightest fluctuation.

Ye Fusheng felt a chilling shock. The doubt he had never explicitly voiced was finally peeling back the tip of the iceberg in this moment. Before even glimpsing the true essence, his blood had already run cold.

But then he remembered the peach blossom hairpin Duanqing had left beside Gu Qifang, and the words he had heard while half-conscious: “Rest at ease.”

Could Duanqing truly sever all emotion? Not entirely.

As he pondered, Xuan Su said, “It is said that when Senior Gu and Martial Uncle Duanqing pledged their love, it was during a critical juncture in Martial Uncle’s cultivation. According to his Shifu and Grandmaster, he should have retreated from the world to cultivate in peace, but ultimately, he returned to the mortal dust alongside Senior Gu, gone for many years.”

Ye Fusheng asked, “By doing this… are there hidden dangers?”

“Naturally there are, but I do not know the details.” Xuan Su nodded. “I only remember that on his deathbed, my Shifu asked Martial Uncle Duanqing, ‘A lifetime of glorious brilliance and wild unruliness, ultimately failing the single word “emotion.” Have you ever regretted it?’ Martial Uncle’s reply still echoes in my ears.”

Ye Fusheng’s grip tightened on his cup, listening as Xuan Su enunciated every word: “When affection is deeply rooted, one’s actions are no longer entirely their own; gain, loss, sorrow, and joy reside within my own heart.”

Since ancient times, “emotion and desire” had been spoken of together. Little did they know that desire was born of wanting and followed the heart’s wishes, whereas emotion was like three thousand miles of the weak waters of the mortal realm—one only takes a single scoop to drink. Even if it is arsenic, they swallow it as gladly as sweet nectar.

Living in this world, there are too many instances of involuntary actions, but the foremost among them is the inability to restrain one’s feelings.

Ye Fusheng was accustomed to acting on stage and superficial appearances. Even if there were moments of genuine affection, it was ultimately more reliance than adoration, and in the end, it often failed to withstand the grinding of worldly affairs and the fickleness of human hearts. Therefore, although he wandered romantically through the mortal dust, he remained untainted. It was not out of a desire for purity, but because he found romantic love deeply illusory and ethereal. Why bring trouble upon oneself?

He knew his Shifu and her spouse had a deep bond, but he still hadn’t expected that even thirteen years after her passing, the feelings remained as strong as ever.

A deep affection meant giving one’s heart entirely. Whether the heavens collapsed or the earth shattered, whether people and things changed beyond recognition, as long as our original intentions remain unchanged, where in the ends of the earth could we not be companions?

Even if growing old together proved difficult, it was still two hearts united, a passion expressed to its fullest and most vivid extent.

He sat blankly, the remaining tea in his cup already cold, yet the blood in his heart boiled without reason.

His body and mind trembled, his thoughts scattered. Only one person’s voice echoed in his mind, growing clearer and clearer—

“Every single thought in my heart was born because of you. How can you ask me to pick them up, only to put them down again?”