M49S Vol 1 Chapter 2. The Immortal Chanhua.

Half a month later, in Jinling, Chanhua Lou.

There’s an old saying: “Gaze at the moon in Jinling, seek the immortal at Chanhua.” Ever since the Immortal Chanhua ¹A legendary cultivator who once lived at Chanhua Tower ascended three hundred years ago, Chanhua Lou by the shores of Mochou Lake had become a revered site in the cultivation world. The immortal, once known as Chanhua, hailed from the Wang clan, and naturally, the pavilion remained under the Wang clan’s ownership.

This year’s Knock Upon The Immortal Gate Assembly was hosted by the Wang clan, and they graciously opened Chanhua Lou to welcome guests from across the land.

Inside the grand pavilion, a red plum tree stood tall at the center. Its gnarled branches reached skyward, so high one couldn’t see the top even when looking up. The tree was named Vermilion Sand, planted by the Immortal Chanhua herself. Even after three hundred and eighteen years, it still bloomed in full glory.

Guests arrived one after another. The moment they stepped through the door, their eyes landed on this blooming marvel. Each and every one of them couldn’t help but express their admiration. Just then, as the lanterns were being lit, music drifted from beneath the plum tree. The soft notes of the jade flute blended with the gentle strumming of a zither.

A group of veiled women dressed in gold-threaded robes performed a sword dance. As their silver blades danced through the air, they flicked up small lanterns one by one with the tips of their swords. Candlelight shimmered against their elegant faces. With a subtle dip and graceful lift of the blade, each lantern was sent flying upward and hooked precisely onto the bronze fixtures lining the pavilion floors.

“Beautiful!” someone on an upper floor called out in praise. Like the ascetics of Futu Temple or the reclusive cultivators of Tianlao, few had ever witnessed such an extravagant display by the Wang clan.

Of course, not everyone was impressed. Someone sneered, “Lighting lanterns, is that all? Just what you’d expect from a noble clan.”

But the dancers remained composed, unaffected by either praise or mockery. Their swords moved like dragons, their bodies light as startled swans. In a blink, several more lanterns were suspended above. The musicians nearby continued without missing a single note.

Just then, a stir came from the entrance.

Led by a steward of the Wang clan, a group of more than ten people filed in. On the fourth floor, a young man leaned over the railing, sticking his head out to watch. After sweeping a glance at the newcomers, he turned back and said, “That’s the group from Wuhou Manor. These guys are always unruly and brash, and they’re arriving ridiculously late, as usual.”

“Youqiong,” called a man seated nearby, his voice calm. Though he didn’t even spare a glance, the boy named Youqiong immediately rubbed his nose and retreated awkwardly back to the table.

“I know, I know. Less talking, more watching. Trouble comes from the mouth,” he muttered, planting both hands on the table and blinking wide-eyed. “But, Senior Brother, even though our Gushan Sword Sect has kept a low profile these past years and didn’t attend the last Immortal-Seeking Assembly, it doesn’t mean we deserve to be looked down on like this, right? The Wang clan placed Tianlao Sect on the sixth floor but stuck us on the fifth, sharing it with the Beidou. Senior Sister may say we don’t fight over these worldly things, but this feels like we’re just being stepped on. Don’t you think she’s upset? Otherwise, why would she rather stay in the room meditating than come out?”

Chen Boyan cast a glance at his overly talkative junior and said, “If you have time to worry about this, you might as well learn from your Senior Sister and focus on adjusting your state. You’ll need it for tomorrow.”

Tu Youqiong scratched his head in embarrassment. “My skills are lacking. Shifu only brought me along to observe and learn.”

“Then go and cultivate, if your skills are lacking,” Chen Boyan’s tone grew heavier.

“Senior Brother…” Tu Youqiong pulled a long face, but it had no effect on the man across from him. Left with no choice, he dragged his feet and stood up, preparing to return to his room to train.

But just as he turned around, a few people walking straight toward him made him pause in his tracks.

The moment the Wuhou Manor group entered, they’d already asked where the Gushan Sword Sect was staying and now headed straight for the fourth floor. Spotting their target, they didn’t waste words. Their manner matched Youqiong’s earlier description. A rrogant and reckless.

“Where is Meng Qiqi?” asked the one in front. He wore a black brocade robe, a small golden crown perched on his head. His sharp brows slanted like blades, and his gaze was cold and proud.

Tu Youqiong froze. Meng Qiqi? Wasn’t that the little Martial Uncle he’d never even met?

“What business do you have with my Martial Uncle?” he blurted, then immediately regretted it. “Wait, who are you, and what gives you the right to call him by name?”

Tu Youqiong had a direct mouth and said whatever came to mind. He knew the man was from Wuhou Manor, but he didn’t recognize which one. Regardless of who he was, calling his Martial Uncle by name at a major cultivation assembly like this, wasn’t that outright disrespect?

Surprisingly, Chen Boyan didn’t stop his junior’s outburst. He stared into his teacup, a single tea stem floating upright in the water, as if he hadn’t heard a thing.

Emboldened by the silence, Tu Youqiong straightened up and stood with the pride of the Gushan Sword. Clad in a pale azure gauze robe layered over plain cloth, he looked rather elegant despite his youth. Seeing the man raise an eyebrow without replying, he mimicked his Senior Brother’s usual refined composure and dusted off his sleeve. “I am Tu Youqiong of Gushan Sword. May I ask your name?”

The man glanced over Youqiong with sharp eyes that felt like blades. Youqiong, borrowing his Senior Brother’s composure, held his ground with head held high. Maybe it was the way he carried himself that made the man pause for a reply.

“Yao Guan, Wuhou Manor.”

Then his eyes skipped past Youqiong, locking onto Chen Boyan. “Where is Meng Xiu? I need to speak with him.”

Meng Xiu was another name for Meng Qiqi, given to him because of the elegant sword he carried, the Xiujian. Over time, many people began using that name instead of his real one.

Chen Boyan lift his head. “My Martial Uncle is not here. Please leave.”

Yao Guan frowned. As the senior disciple of Gushan Sword Sect, Chen Boyan was of a lower generation than the Five Lords of Wuhou Manor. Even so, the faint sword-shaped scar between his brows served as a quiet reminder that his identity was not one to be taken lightly.

Keeping that in mind, Yao Guan adjusted his tone. “A month ago, my second brother fought Lu Yunting of the Jingbo Sword at Hangu Pass. He disappeared afterward. Some say they saw Meng Xiu with him around that time. I only wish to ask him a few questions.”

“My Martial Uncle is not here,” Chen Boyan repeated. This time, he stood up. His voice remained steady and clear, neither proud nor submissive.

Yao Guan narrowed his eyes. Around them, others began to turn and look. Cultivators from across the land had gathered inside Chanhua Lou, and now countless gazes pressed in like invisible blades.

The air grew still. Only the music beneath the plum tree continued to flow, light and unbothered.

Just then, a crisp voice called out from below, cheerful and loud. “Excuse me! Please let me through.”

Just then, a crisp voice called out from downstairs, cheerful and loud. “Excuse me! Please let me through!”

Many people turned to look. A girl around fifteen or sixteen dashed up the stairs toward the upper floors. She pushed aside a blooming plum branch at the edge of the staircase and wove her way through the crowd. With her bright eyes, charming smile, and glowing expression, she drew every gaze in the room.

She quickly reached the fourth floor. The moment she spotted the pale azure robes of Gushan Sword Sect, her face lit up with delight. “Senior Brother!”

Everyone fell silent. When Gushan Sword Sect arrived earlier today, there had been no such girl with them.

Tu Youqiong was just as stunned. He took a quick step forward to stop her. “Hold on, Miss.”

The girl came to a halt, clasping her hands behind her back as she looked him up and down. Her eyes sparkled, and suddenly she beamed. “Ah, you’re the junior brother!”

“That’s right, I am,” said Tu Youqiong, even more curious now. “And who are you?”

“I’m your senior sister. My Master is Meng Qiqi!”

Her bright smile was completely at odds with the tension in the room. She seemed completely unaware of how sensitive that name was at this moment.

Yao Guan suddenly turned his head. “You’re Meng Xiu’s disciple?”

“Yes,” she replied with a nod.

Yao Guan’s gaze was cold and sharp. The girl shrank back slightly, her smile fading. Still, Yao Guan paid no mind. All he cared about was his missing brother. He stepped forward, about to question her further.

But before he could get close, Chen Boyan moved. He stepped in front of her, blocking Yao Guan’s path.

So fast.

Yao Guan’s eyes darkened. He now looked at Chen Boyan with greater caution.

Chen Boyan didn’t look at Yao Guan. He turned to the girl and asked, “Do you have a token?”

The girl quickly reached into her robes and pulled out a jade plaque. “My Master gave me this. I’m Qing Gu. He told me to bring this here and find you.”

Chen Boyan took it and examined the piece. It was indeed Meng Qiqi’s identification token, marked with a unique symbol that couldn’t be forged. After a brief pause, he said, “Youqiong, take her to greet Senior Sister Song.”

“Alright.” Tu Youqiong was still a little dazed, but just as he was about to lead her away, a hand suddenly stretched out from the side and blocked their path. The man’s expression was arrogant.

“Hold on. If she’s really Meng Xiu’s disciple, she should know where he is. Why not let her speak before you send her away?”

Who was this now?

Tu Youqiong felt a flash of irritation. When he noticed the constellation emblem embroidered on the man’s robe, his annoyance deepened.

“Beidou again? What business do you have with us now?”

One after another. Were they all here just to make trouble?

“I think your sect has forgotten the promise made with our Beidou Elder, Yenxin. Let me remind you. When does your current Martial Uncle Meng Xiu plan to honor the duel agreed upon back then?”

The speaker was Jiang Xie, the second disciple of Beidou. Many here recognized him.

Tu Youqiong immediately remembered. “That was an agreement made by the previous Martial Uncle. Everyone knows he’s been missing for years, maybe even… What does that have to do with Martial Uncle Meng?”

“How does it not?” Jiang Xie sneered. “The agreement was made with your sect’s Martial Uncle. It didn’t specify who. Isn’t Meng Xiu the current one?”

“You—!” Tu Youqiong was furious. This was getting outrageous.

Qing Gu peeked out from behind him, her voice sharp. “My Master isn’t even here. Say what you want, but he’s not going to fight you.”

“What’s wrong?” Jiang Xie laughed coldly. “Has Gushan Sword been reduced to a few loud-mouthed juniors? Is Meng Xiu hiding because he knows he’s no match?”

Another Beidou disciple stepped forward and added, “I heard that the previous elder of your sect could unleash one hundred and eight strikes in a single move. But in Meng Xiu’s hands, it’s barely forty-nine now.”

Qing Gu glared at him. Her hand had already reached for the short blade at her waist. “Don’t insult my Master. If you’ve got the guts, fight me instead!”

“Qing Gu, step back.” Chen Boyan’s voice turned cold. “You’re part of the Gushan Sword Sect. Act like it.”

She didn’t dare go against his command so soon after joining. But when she looked around and saw the smug expressions of the Beidou Sect, she clenched her fists in frustration.

Others in the room shared her feeling.

While Gushan Sword had faded over the years, many still remembered its former glory. Some couldn’t stand watching them be humiliated like this.

A monk from Futu Temple, known as Yinian, placed his palms together and spoke calmly. “Amitabha. Back when Lang Xu the sword cultivator was rampaging beyond the border, none could stand against him. Though your former sect leader was already aging, he still faced the challenge with honor. Though he lost, he held the line at Mount Emei. That kind of righteousness is something we should all admire.”

“That’s right,” said Zhong Wu, a young rogue cultivator from the Southern Islands. “He passed away with regret, but who doesn’t know that he did it for the greater good? Even if the Sword Sect is not what it used to be, that doesn’t mean just anyone can trample on them.”

Voices of support started to ripple through the crowd. Several had long disapproved of Beidou Sect’s growing arrogance and took this chance to speak up.

With most elders resting at the Wang residence tonight, the pavilion was filled with young cultivators, hot-blooded and unrestrained. The more they spoke, the more heated things became.

Youqiong was young and hot-blooded. Hearing others speak up in defense of the sect filled him with pride. But what Chen Boyan said next left him stunned.

“We appreciate everyone’s words,” Chen Boyan said calmly. “But since Beidou does have an old agreement with our Martial Granduncle, Gushan Sword must honor it. We will not bring shame to those who came before us. No matter who the opponent is or where we stand, an agreement is an agreement. We have never feared battle, nor will we break our word.”

Jiang Xie was secretly pleased. Chen Boyan was famous for his virtue. He hadn’t expected him to be this rigid. Jiang Xie figured he would let him talk himself into a corner.

So he stayed silent, waiting for the Sword Sect to dig its own grave. But then his smile faded.

“If Beidou insists on having this duel fulfilled,” Chen Boyan continued, “and since our Martial Uncle is not here, we will face the challenge ourselves. Qing Gu is now our senior sister. Her cultivation is likely higher than Youqiong’s. Since Gushan Sword does not bully the weak, our least accomplished junior will meet your challenge.”

As he spoke, Chen Boyan stood like a calm peak. The faint sword scar between his brows gave him a refined and distant presence.

The crowd murmured quietly, recalling the reputation that preceded him. Chen Boyan was known as the First Disciple of Gushan Sword Sect, a true gentleman.

But today, this gentleman would not be pushed around.

Tu Youqiong, still in disbelief, quickly caught up. He unfastened his sword from his waist with one hand, and with the other, pulled Qing Gu back a step. “Senior Sister, let me handle this.”

Then he stepped forward and raised his sword. “Please.”

Beidou didn’t expect this turn. They had only come to stir trouble, not actually fight. If they won, it wouldn’t be seen as an achievement. If they lost, it would be an embarrassment. No one wanted to be the first to step forward.

Jiang Xie glanced toward Yao Guan, hoping for support. Of everyone present, only Yao Guan might be able to turn the situation around.

But Yao Guan simply sneered and folded his arms, choosing to remain a spectator.

The monk from Futu Temple, Zhong Wu of the Southern Islands, and others from smaller sects said nothing either. None of them tried to stop what was happening. Only Yinian, the compassionate monk, shook his head slightly. But even his concern seemed more for Youqiong than for Beidou Sect.

By now, three other disciples of Gushan Sword Sect had appeared. After understanding the situation, their desire to fight only intensified.

One of them, a refined young man named Dai Xiaoshan, clapped Tu Youqiong on the shoulder. “Do your best. If you win, I’ll let you ride the crane.”

He was referring to his spiritual crane, Daxian, which could soar with the wind and carry people through the sky. Youqiong had admired it for a long time.

Tu Youqiong was suddenly filled with spirit. He wanted nothing more than to defeat Beidou Sect on the spot.

Backed into a corner, Beidou Sect finally responded. They reluctantly agreed to the challenge and sent out a representative, the same one who had earlier mocked Meng Qiqi for only being able to perform forty-nine sword strikes.

At the same time, near the corner stairwell on the fourth floor, a chubby figure vanished quickly, retreating with hurried steps.

The man patted his chest and sighed in relief. He had no intention of getting caught up in this mess.

One Meng Qiqi was already enough to make him regret past decisions. He wasn’t about to let himself be dragged back in again.

But where was Meng Qiqi?

Half an hour ago, he had still been with Wang Ziling. Yet in the blink of an eye, he had disappeared.

Remembering the smile Meng Qiqi gave when warning him not to reveal his arrival in Jinling, Wang Ziling couldn’t help but shiver.

He had never understood what Meng Qiqi was thinking. After trailing him all the way back to the city, Meng Qiqi now acted as if he wanted no one to know he had returned.

What was he planning?

Wang Ziling shook his head. Forget it. He was just a puppet heir of the Wang clan, barely tolerated at home. Why should he get involved in any of this? Better to stay far away from the mess and go find Miss Yun instead.

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  A legendary cultivator who once lived at Chanhua Tower