Chapter 76

Shen Qingqiu gestured pointedly at the seat once more. “The Sect Leader only just left.”

He reached for the teapot on the table. Ming Fan moved to assist, but a subtle wave of Shen Qingqiu’s hand stopped him. Pouring tea for everyone himself, Shen Qingqiu finally saw Liu Qingge take his seat. The man lifted his cup, took a sip, and fell silent.

“Of course the Sect Leader was here,” Qi Qingqi said, setting her own cup down with a clatter. “With that look on your face, Liu-shidi, I thought you meant Luo Binghe.”

The casual remark struck a nerve. A phantom ache pulsed in Shen Qingqiu’s jaw. “Impossible,” he forced a laugh.

“Exactly. Impossible.” Qi Qingqi’s eyes flashed. “If that wretch Luo Binghe dared show his face on Cang Qiong Mountain now, everyone would run him through on sight!”

Muttering into his sleeve, Mu Qingfang added, “Assuming anyone could land a hit.”

Shen Qingqiu’s laughter turned strained. Qi Qingqi jabbed a finger in his direction. “You dare laugh? You’re the one causing all the trouble! Shen Qingqiu, mark my words. It’s a good thing you had the sense to return with our martial brothers this time. If you’d run off with him again without a word, I’d be the first to cleanse our sect’s doors! Let’s see how much you could ‘stir up’ then!”

Her words were sharp, but the concern beneath was plain as day. She looked ready to leap up and drag him out by the scruff of his neck. Surrounded by his peers—some amused, some sipping tea, some inexplicably eating melon seeds (how did Liu Mingyan manage it with her veil on?)—Shen Qingqiu knew when he was outmatched. He swiftly changed the subject. “And Sect Leader? Has he fully recovered from his injuries?”

“He has,” Mu Qingfang replied, though his tone suggested he wished to sigh.

Qi Qingqi snorted. “If Sect Leader hadn’t been forced to emerge from seclusion upon hearing of the disturbance, and if he weren’t so reluctant to draw his sword unless absolutely necessary, Luo Binghe would never have gotten the better of him. If you’d emerged just a moment later, you might have witnessed Xuan Su leaving its sheath.”

A flicker of curiosity stirred within Shen Qingqiu.

In all his time, both in the original story and in this world, he had never seen Xuan Su drawn. Another one of Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky’s damned plot holes! All that buildup, and then… nothing! The author just let Yue Qingyuan die, pierced by ten thousand arrows, without any proper resolution. Infuriating!

Ning Yingying had been standing quietly to the side, head bowed. Shen Qingqiu called her over. “What’s the matter?”

She shuffled forward, lifting a face streaked with tears. Her eyes were red-rimmed like a little rabbit’s. “Shizun,” she mumbled, voice thick. “Now that you’re back… please don’t leave again. Okay?”

She was crying. Again. Shen Qingqiu was at a loss.

What was with this? He wasn’t a particularly emotional person himself, his tears mostly a physiological response. So why did all the disciples he raised turn into such weepy willows?

Moved by the scene, Ming Fan began a loud, dry wail. “Shizuuuun—!”

That was decidedly not ‘weepy willow’ material.

Qi Qingqi seized the opportunity. “See? See how your disciples worry? You have more than one disciple, you know! Must you dote only on that ungrateful wolf? What about the others?”

Patting Ning Yingying’s back in a small gesture of comfort, Shen Qingqiu protested, “When have I ever doted on only one?”

Liu Qingge, who had drunk his tea down to the last third, spoke without looking up. “You’re back. Stay.”

Of course he would stay. Cang Qiong Mountain Sect was a premier organization. Once you boarded this ship, you didn’t get off. “Mn,” Shen Qingqiu replied simply.

His answer seemed to satisfy Qi Qingqi. Liu Qingge opened his mouth to add something, but his brow suddenly furrowed, a sharp, killing intent slicing through the room.

Everyone felt the shift. Hands drifted toward sword hilts. Liu Qingge shot to his feet and flashed to the window in an instant. Shen Qingqiu’s heart lurched into his throat.

With a sharp crack, Liu Qingge flung the lattice windows open.

Outside, a sky of sparse stars and a bright moon hung over the deep, silent bamboo forest. No one was there.

Luo Binghe wasn’t foolish enough to linger, of course. He’d left long ago.

The tension in the room dissolved. “Liu-shixiong, what did you see?” Mu Qingfang asked.

But Liu Qingge didn’t turn. Instead, he extended a hand, palm up, as if to catch something falling from the sky.

A long moment passed before he withdrew his hand and finally faced them. “It’s snowing.”

---

Shen Qingqiu lay awake all night, staring into the darkness. At the first toll of the alarm bell the next morning, he burst from his bamboo hut.

The bell’s peals grew heavier, more urgent, each resonant strike echoing and swirling around the peaks of Cang Qiong Mountain like a trapped storm.

Disciples from every peak streamed across the Rainbow Bridges toward Qing Jing Peak for assembly. The square outside the Summit Hall was packed, yet utterly silent.

After ensuring his own disciples were in order, Shen Qingqiu entered the hall. A translucent crystal mirror, taller than a man, stood to one side. All the Peak Lords were present—except for An Ding Peak, which had sent a senior disciple in charge of affairs—gathered before it, their expressions grave.

The mirror showed a wide, placid river, its banks lined with green hills and fields dotted with the occasional white-roofed house.

“The middle reaches of the Luo River,” Yue Qingyuan said, his voice flat. “From above.”

Hovering over this peaceful scene, a monstrous, cavern-riddled mountain range pushed its way through the clouds. It resembled a pitted, blackened skull turned upside-down, crawling out of the churning gloom to stare vacantly and malevolently at the world below.

The Burial Mounds of the Demon Realm.

“The reports began at midnight,” Yue Qingyuan continued. “At first, it was only a cluster of strange rocks. Within an hour, the full form of the mountain was visible.”

“An hour?” a Peak Lord gasped. “That’s… far too fast!”

No. This was the normal speed of convergence. Tianlang-Jun had indeed chosen the “optimal time and location” described in the original plot. As expected, similar phenomena would appear across the land within half a day. In two days, the two realms would be fully merged.

Like tearing two paintings apart and haphazardly stitching the pieces into one.

Arms crossed, Cheng Luan held loosely in his hand, Liu Qingge stated the obvious. “Then we must be faster.”

“Each Peak Lord will select two-thirds of their inner disciples to accompany them,” Yue Qingyuan commanded. “Assemble at the middle reaches of the Luo River within half a shichen.”

With the Sect Leader’s order given, the Peak Lords scattered.

Half a shichen to arrive meant less than ten minutes to prepare. Shen Qingqiu turned to leave and gather his own people, but Yue Qingyuan’s voice stopped him. “You will remain here.”

So it had come to this.

Shen Qingqiu looked back. “Senior Brother, you know I must go.”

Yue Qingyuan’s face was stern. “Junior Brother, what else do you know? Beyond the first snow and the Luo River?”

Shen Qingqiu spoke slowly, deliberately. “To stop the convergence, the Xin Mo Sword must be removed first. It’s embedded in the skull of the Burial Mounds. Tianlang-Jun will undoubtedly be there, channeling power into it.”

The solution was clear: ① Destroy Xin Mo. ② Kill Tianlang-Jun.

“You will stand guard here,” Yue Qingyuan insisted.

As Shen Qingqiu opened his mouth to argue, Yue Qingyuan’s hands began to form a seal. He intended to trap him right here in the Summit Hall with a restriction.

The Sect Leader was playing hardball!

Shen Qingqiu’s spine went rigid. His hand twitched, unsure whether to reach for Xiu Ya. At that moment, a chorus of uneven shouts erupted from outside the hall.

Both men rushed out, following the pointing fingers of the disciples in the square. Shen Qingqiu drew a sharp, silent breath.

Above Cang Qiong Mountain, the vast, roiling sea of clouds had turned the color of blood.

Streaks of crimson light tore across the sky. Massive boulders wreathed in flame, like blazing meteors, hurtled directly toward the mountain peaks.

Yue Qingyuan’s expression didn’t change. A flick of his wrist, a completed seal, and Xuan Su—sheath and all—shot forth with a roar. It shattered the incoming stones into harmless dust, which scattered like the warm, fading embers of a firework.

Within the volcanic, crimson clouds, countless human limbs and screaming heads could be seen tumbling and writhing in agony—a vision of pure hell.

Fuck! The! Endless! Abyss!

Shen Qingqiu’s mind screamed. Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky! You had the audacity to write about the realms merging, but you couldn’t be bothered to mention that Cang Qiong Mountain’s convergence point is with the fucking Endless Abyss?!

This was a scam! A complete scam!

Cang Qiong Mountain had hit the jackpot in the worst possible way.

The mountain couldn’t stay. Who knew when the next wave would come? Who knew how long before they merged fully with that pit of magma and torment?

Yue Qingyuan turned to the acting disciple from An Ding Peak. “Request aid from the masters of Zhao Hua Temple immediately.” Then, raising his voice to carry across the square, he commanded, “All remaining disciples, heed this! If the protective barrier breaks, abandon everything and evacuate the mountain at once!”

“Yes, Sect Leader!” a thousand voices thundered in reply.

Yue Qingyuan then looked at Shen Qingqiu. “Qingqiu-shidi, you will go to the Luo River with the others.”

Liu Qingge, having finished selecting his Bai Zhan Peak disciples, returned. “And you, Sect Leader?”

“I will hold the line here until reinforcements from Zhao Hua Temple arrive. I will follow shortly.”

“Can you hold alone, Senior Brother?” Shen Qingqiu asked, concern cutting through his panic. “Perhaps I should stay—”

Liu Qingge grabbed his arm and pulled. “We’re leaving. If he says he’ll follow, he’ll follow.”

Faced with imminent catastrophe, Cang Qiong Mountain Sect finally remembered it was the number one cultivation sect in a xianxia novel. There was no more time for leisurely travel by carriage or boat.

Thousands of flying swords streaked across the sky like shooting stars. To anyone looking up from below, it would have been a breathtaking sight—a flowing river of light.

A magnificent spectacle. Pity that the grotesque, protruding mountain peaks now appearing in the sky robbed anyone of the heart to appreciate such a rare and wondrous sight.

An Ding Peak truly lived up to its reputation as the master of logistics, operating with astonishing efficiency. The boundary-reinforcing reinforcements from Zhaohua Temple must have arrived swiftly, shoring up the barrier. Yue Qingyuan disengaged just as quickly and gave chase.

In less than half an hour, they had reached the middle reaches of the Luo River.

Their numbers were too great for a single landing. They had to descend in groups, by sector. Both banks of the Luo River were already thronged with cultivators from various sects and schools, a riot of colored robes, all drawn by the news and the strange phenomena. The Daoists of Tianyi Temple were busy evacuating the ordinary folk living along the riverbanks. Wuwang and Wuchen led the contingent from Zhaohua Temple forward to meet them.

Yue Qingyuan cupped his hands in salute. "Our thanks to the venerable masters for sending disciples to our aid. Otherwise, the foundation of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, built over millennia, might have been destroyed today."

The monk Wuwang, usually so talkative, wore a stern, closed expression and remained silent. It was Master Wuchen who wiped his brow and spoke. "Amitabha. It is not only your sect's millennia-old foundation that nearly faced destruction today. Zhaohua Temple also teetered on the brink of such a fate."

Yue Qingyuan showed mild surprise. "Is that so? The venerable masters dispatched a hundred of your temple's boundary-setting disciples to Cang Qiong Mountain… Did you have strength left to defend your own temple?"

Shen Qingqiu was equally puzzled.

Had Zhaohua Temple's enlightenment truly reached such heights that they would risk their own safety to aid another sect?

Wuwang's expression grew even darker.

Seeing his continued silence, Master Wuchen had no choice but to act as spokesman. "This… is truly difficult to speak of. We did not rely on our own remaining strength, but rather… on the tremendous assistance of another."

Yue Qingyuan said, "Could it have been Tianyi Temple?"

Tianyi Temple was famously casual and unfettered, the least organized and disciplined of the major sects. They had virtually no achievements in the art of boundary-setting. If Zhaohua Temple had truly relied on their help to hold on, it would be nothing short of miraculous.

Master Wuchen shook his head. "It was Huan Hua Palace."

Shen Qingqiu blurted out, "Huan Hua Palace? That's…"

Wuwang, his face like iron, spat out, "Correct. It was Luo Binghe."

Suddenly, two light, soft laughs sounded from nearby.

A voice, clear as ice yet cultured and polite, said, "Tremendous assistance is too generous a term. If I must say, I merely acted to help my Shizun."