M49S Vol 1 Chapter 10. Grass Beads

“Senior Brother! I’m here to help!” Dai Xiaoshan leapt down from a nearby stone pavilion. His longsword rang out in a crisp cry, intercepting the beasts on Chen Boyan’s left.

Song Ru quickly appeared on his right. The three of them stood in a triangular formation, one of the most basic configurations of the Gushan Sword’s Three Talents Formation.

At this moment, the entire valley was packed with beasts. The cultivators had been battling uphill for ages, and the ground was littered with corpses. Yet still the monsters came, wave after wave.

“There’s no end to them,” Dai Xiaoshan muttered, tongue clicking.

Song Ru’s expression was cold and sharp as early spring frost. Her strikes were even sharper. As she withdrew from a swing, she caught sight of a group running in from the west. Her voice dropped: “Beidou Sect’s here.”

“Where?” As the formation shifted, Dai Xiaoshan turned to face that direction and lock eyes with Jiang Xie of Beidou. The moment their gazes met, tempers flared. Enemies always recognized each other fast.

Spotting the massive swarm of beasts Jiang Xie and his group had lured over, a flash of cunning sparked in Dai Xiaoshan’s eyes. He lifted his hand and unleashed Ten Thousand Swords Return to One. Multiple blades of qi burst forward, slicing into the tide and cutting down half the pack on the spot.

But in doing so, he also blocked Jiang Xie and the others.

Jiang Xie’s face darkened. “What’s the meaning of this, Brother Xiaoshan?”

Dai Xiaoshan offered a mild smile. “I saw you being chased and thought I’d lend a hand.”

The Beidou disciples’ expressions turned grim. But before any of them could speak, Chen Boyan was already stepping in with a sharp rebuke. “Xiaoshan, a gentleman watches his words.”

Dai Xiaoshan immediately nodded and stepped back obediently, but Jiang Xie wouldn’t let it go. He still hadn’t forgotten the humiliation at Chanhua Tower a few days ago. Now that they’d run into each other again, how could he possibly let things slide?

“Brother Chen, why stop him? A gentleman uses his words, not his fists. And since Brother Xiaoshan loves to talk so much, doesn’t that make him the very picture of a gentleman?” Jiang Xie said, his tone laced with mockery. As he spoke, his cold gaze swept backward.

Several of his men instantly stepped forward and dispatched the remaining beasts.

Dai Xiaoshan, who had been waiting for an excuse, poked his head out from behind Chen Boyan and retorted, “A gentleman only speaks when the person across from him is worth talking to!”

“You—!” A short Beidou disciple made to lunge forward, but Jiang Xie stopped him.

He looked at Dai Xiaoshan and Chen Boyan and sneered instead of getting angry. “As expected of Gushan Sword. Always going on about being gentlemen. So very well-taught…”

But before he could finish, a sword flew past his face and plunged into the beast that had just reared up to strike, so close that the blade’s gleam briefly blinded him.

Chen Boyan’s voice was as cold as frost. “Brother Jiang, are you looking to duel with me? If so, wait until this is over. Then you may issue a formal challenge. I will answer it in full.”

Jiang Xie’s grip on his sword tightened. His face darkened, but he said nothing. It was always this Chen Boyan. Foul-tempered, intractable, and insufferably strong.

“Let’s go.” Jiang Xie finally relented, leading his people down a different path.

Dai Xiaoshan smirked at their retreating backs, only to feel Chen Boyan’s cold gaze sweep over him next. “Xiaoshan, copy the sect rules one hundred times when we return.”

Dai Xiaoshan deflated. “Senior Brother…”

For once, Song Ru spoke up on his behalf. “Senior Brother, Xiaoshan was just venting over what happened at Chanhua Tower. It’s understandable. Besides, it’s suspicious that Jiang Xie brought a horde of beasts straight to us.”

But Chen Boyan remained unmoved. His cold gaze nearly made Dai Xiaoshan’s knees buckle. “If you let yourself be distracted by every petty person, when will you have time to cultivate?”

Had Jiang Xie overheard that, he might have coughed up blood on the spot. Dai Xiaoshan thought bitterly to himself. His senior brother might be the model of gentlemanly virtue in the eyes of others, but how many people did he really care about?

Jiang Xie? Even if you tied Zhao Xie, Li Xie, and Wu Xie together, his senior brother probably wouldn’t even blink.

“I was wrong, Senior Brother,” Dai Xiaoshan promptly admitted, ever eager to follow Chen Boyan’s lead.

“Since you know your mistake,” Chen Boyan glanced in the direction Jiang Xie had gone, “then go and see what Beidou Sect is up to.”

Dai Xiaoshan froze for a moment before catching on. “I’m on it!”

He couldn’t help thinking, Senior Brother’s in a pretty foul mood today.

---

Meng Qiqi stood before the screen wall, hands clasped behind his back, studying the unassuming dragon-carved stone surface. Mu Guinian stood nearby, arms folded around his sword. No matter how many glances they drew, he remained unmoved.

The entire mountain was embroiled in battle against the beast tide. Only the two of them had the luxury to loiter, while Xiao Yu’er, hugging his bow, had already curled up against Meng Qiqi and drifted off. The boy was small to begin with, and curled into a ball, he looked even smaller, especially pitiful.

Perhaps this odd trio stood out too much. Passing cultivators kept casting curious glances. After about the time it took to drink a cup of tea, someone finally approached. Meng Qiqi had not expected to see him, but he did not exactly mind it either.

“Ziqian greets the honored cultivator.” A well-mannered young man, barely older than Xiao Yu’er by a year or two, stepped forward. Hair tied with a jade crown, sword at his waist, dressed in white brocade embroidered with golden clouds. His rosy lips and pearly teeth made him look more like a young noble lost among cultivators than a proper disciple.

Meng Qiqi gave him a once-over, but didn’t move so as not to disturb the sleeping Xiao Yu’er. He simply returned the gesture with a hand salute. “Well met, Young Master Wang.”

This was Wang Ziqian, age fourteen, the only son of Wang Changlin, patriarch of the Wang clan.

Wang Ziqian returned the greeting with equal courtesy. His gaze then fell on Xiao Yu’er, full of curiosity. “I thought I was the youngest at this Knock upon the Immortal Gate, but it seems there’s someone even younger. May I ask his name and which sect he hails from?”

“This is Xiao Yu’er, my disciple,” Meng Qiqi said, glancing down to wake the boy. But Xiao Yu’er, still dazed from sleep, or perhaps simply comforted by the presence of his beloved master, clung to Meng Qiqi’s leg and refused to let go. When he looked up, he was grinning like a fool.

Meng Qiqi rubbed the top of his head. “Come on now, be good. Time to get up.”

Xiao Yu’er blinked and finally noticed Wang Ziqian. He stared for a moment, then thought to himself, What a handsome young man. His master had once said that good-looking young men were like rare sword manuals. Every extra glance might add a day to your life. Still a little flushed from sleep, he gave Wang Ziqian a soft, drowsy smile.

Meng Qiqi shook his head. This silly disciple always wakes up a bit slow.

Wang Ziqian’s cheeks also flushed slightly, but his demeanor remained composed and dignified. “This wall may keep out the rain, but the cold still seeps in. Would the two of you care to join me under the eaves? It’s warmer there.”

Meng Qiqi only shook his head and turned to Xiao Yu’er. “You awake?”

“I’m up, Master. Time to cultivate.” Xiao Yu’er’s voice was clear and youthful. As he spoke, traces of childhood innocence slipped from his brow along with the rain. He glanced around, then locked onto a large stone not far off. With a burst of movement, he leapt onto it, crossed his legs, and closed his eyes to cultivate in the rain.

Wang Ziqian watched the small figure, slender and fragile, and couldn’t help but ask, “Isn’t this a little harsh?”

“No need to worry. He’s used to it,” Meng Qiqi replied without the slightest concern. He then walked toward the covered walkway, leaving Wang Ziqian behind.

A young Wang family disciple who had been following Wang Ziqian hurried to catch up. “Young master, you should come inside too. That man’s just some nobody rogue cultivator, and yet you spoke to him yourself and he still showed no courtesy. Honestly, if you ask me—”

“Don’t call me ‘young master’ in public,” Wang Ziqian interrupted coldly. “And watch your mouth.”

The disciple quickly apologized. Wang Ziqian frowned slightly, his gaze still resting on Meng Qiqi. Who was this man, and why was he involved with Chen Boyan?

“Any word from Wang Zi’an?” he asked.

“Not yet.”

“And Wang Ziling?”

“Also… nothing.”

Wang Ziqian’s eyes, clear as polished obsidian, swept sideways. His lips curved slightly as he said calmly, “Don’t waste my time with that kind of answer.”

“Yes, young master.” The man’s voice grew tense.

But Wang Ziqian no longer spared him a glance. A trace of contemplation flickered in his eyes as he stepped beneath the eaves, ignoring Meng Qiqi entirely. For someone of his status to lower himself to speak with a mere rogue cultivator had already been beneath him.

Still, Wang Ziqian’s gaze occasionally drifted toward Xiao Yu’er. In just a short while, the boy’s complexion had gone from flushed to pale. His fingers trembled slightly, as though he were enduring immense pain.

How could it not hurt? To meditate and cultivate was to draw the surrounding qi into the body, guiding it through the meridians. But while qi in the rain was rich, it was also turbulent and laced with impurities. Allowing it to surge unfiltered into one’s system was like cutting the body open from the inside. Most who came to the Knock at the Immortal Gate were elite disciples of prestigious sects. Even rogue cultivators sought beast cores. Who would willingly suffer like this?

And yet this child, the youngest among them all, could endure it?

Wang Ziqian lowered his gaze in thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Meng Qiqi, who remained calm and unbothered, showing not the slightest trace of concern. Truly cold-hearted.

But in the very next moment, Wang Ziqian made up his mind. He gathered the hem of his robe, rose from his mat, and stepped into the rain under the stunned gaze of those around him.

He sat cross-legged on the other side of the stone forecourt, closed his eyes, and began to meditate, facing Xiao Yu’er across the space between them.

A Wang clansman hurried over, trying to pull Wang Ziqian back, but he firmly refused.

The rain suddenly intensified. Large drops quickly soaked his neatly combed hair, and mud splattered across his white brocade robes. The once-pristine young master now sat cross-legged in the dirt, his figure no longer so untouchable.

Passing cultivators slowed, casting him surprised glances. Even Meng Qiqi was taken aback for a moment. But that flicker of surprise gradually settled with the passing of time, darkening into something deeper in his eyes.

The sky dimmed. The sun, already swallowed by the clouds, dipped back beneath the horizon before it could rise. The beasts finally began to tire, and their assault waned. Here and there, bonfires lit up the mountains, flickering like scattered stars fallen to the mortal world, glowing with warmth.

Wang Ziqian’s face turned even paler, tinged faintly with an unnatural red. Countless violent strands of qi rampaged through his body, cutting through his meridians like blades, but he endured it.

He clenched his teeth and held on, until the qi finally seeped into his blood and flesh, becoming part of his own body, something he could wield.

No one knew how much time passed before Wang Ziqian finally coughed up blood. Just then, Chen Boyan returned. After a moment’s hesitation, he began walking toward him.

But someone was faster.

Ruizhu’s second senior sister, Xu Mengyin, rushed over to support Wang Ziqian by the shoulder. Her pretty eyes flashed with cold anger as she swept a glance at the Wang clansman nearby. “Is this how you look after him? Letting him do as he pleases like this?”

“Cough… cough… Senior Sister Xu, it’s just a bit of stagnant blood. Don’t worry,” Wang Ziqian said, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth and rising on his own. As he lifted his head, he caught sight of Chen Boyan standing before him and quickly bowed. “Brother Chen.”

Chen Boyan looked down at him. “Why?”

“You know as well as I do, Brother Chen. My spiritual foundation has always been poor, and my cultivation barely progresses. But just now, while cultivating in the rain, I found my meridians have expanded just slightly.” A trace of excitement surfaced in Wang Ziqian’s voice, and his gaze toward Chen Boyan brimmed with admiration and respect.

Then he caught sight of Xiao Yu’er running toward Meng Qiqi and added, “If not for Xiao Yu’er and his master, I wouldn’t have had this unexpected gain.”

Chen Boyan also noticed Xiao Yu’er and Meng Qiqi, surprised that the two were still obediently waiting here. He had intended to go to them at once, but Wang Ziqian was still looking at him with expectant eyes. After a beat, Chen Boyan took out a small jade bottle from his ring and handed it over.

“This is a Hunyuan Pill. Rest well. And do not push yourself too hard in cultivation.”

“Thank you, Brother Chen!” Wang Ziqian held the jade bottle with both hands, his voice full of joy.

On the other side, Meng Qiqi watched their interaction and let out a cold snort for reasons even he couldn’t explain. He turned and walked into the hall. Inside stood four statues of the Heavenly Kings. Meng Qiqi picked a spot beneath the most towering of them and sat down. Half of the statue was shrouded in shadow, giving it an eerie, oppressive air.

He was drying Xiao Yu’er’s hair when Chen Boyan entered. Without breaking stride, Chen Boyan approached, calling out to him several times. But Meng Qiqi ignored him.

Not until he had finished drying Xiao Yu’er’s hair did he finally look back and say, “There’s only Mad Dog here. No such thing as a young master.”

Chen Boyan’s expression didn’t change. He simply sat down cross-legged across from him. The firelight reflected off the sword mark at the center of his brow. Staring at Meng Qiqi, he said, “But Mad Dog wouldn’t know my courtesy name. He wouldn’t use it to curse me either. Unless you’re Meng Qiqi.”

Meng Qiqi froze. Maybe, during all those years of barely holding on, it was the bitter cursing of someone he both loved and hated that kept him going. He’d completely forgotten what he’d shouted at the screen wall earlier.

“Your courtesy name isn’t a secret. Don’t you know Mad Dog bites whoever gets close? So what if I cursed you a few times?” Meng Qiqi said.

“But when I held you just now, I felt a string of prayer beads on you.”

Drip.

Rainwater slid down Chen Boyan’s cheek. He was soaked to the bone, but still sat upright. His eyes, sharp and all-seeing, locked onto Meng Qiqi, not giving him even the smallest chance to look away.

Drip, drip.

Meng Qiqi met his gaze, as if trying to find a trace of their past in those eyes. But there was nothing. It had all dispersed like smoke.

“I’ll ask you again.” Meng Qiqi’s voice carried a rare seriousness. He unfastened a plain black string of beads from his waist and opened his palm, holding it out to Chen Boyan. “Do you recognize this string of beads?”

Chen Boyan froze. He did recognize it.

Four years ago, when he had gone to seek Meng Qiqi as his master, Meng Qiqi hadn’t refused him outright. Instead, he had handed him this very string of beads through the window of a small tower and asked the same question.

“Do you recognize this string of beads?”

Back then, Chen Boyan had answered, “No, I don’t.”

So Meng Qiqi had turned him away. Later, Chen Boyan had looked into it himself and learned that these black, peach-shaped beads were called bodhi seeds. He still didn’t know why Meng Qiqi was so attached to them, but now, at last, he could give a different answer.

“I recognize them.”

Meng Qiqi’s hand stiffened abruptly. His eyes locked onto Chen Boyan. His breath surged wildly and refused to settle.

“You recognize them?”

Did he remember? Had he really…

“Junior Brother once told me they’re called bodhi seeds.” Chen Boyan’s tone remained as calm as ever, carrying a subtle coldness that most would miss. But in that instant, it was enough to extinguish the fragile hope rising in Meng Qiqi’s chest.

The storm in his heart slowly subsided. His body relaxed, but the warmth was gone. The change came gradually, almost imperceptibly. Before Chen Boyan could react, Meng Qiqi had already returned to his usual composure.

He withdrew the beads and slowly lifted the corner of his lips. “They’re just wild grass beads, really. They grow in the muddy fields of the countryside. The village folks call them grass beads. Not nearly as poetic as your name for them.”

His voice was low, barely more than a murmur, curling gently past the ear.

Meng Qiqi looked up at the fearsome Heavenly King statue towering above him. Its bulging bronze eyes glared down, and he met that gaze without flinching, just like he had all those years ago.

He still remembered the crumbling temple from back then. It had a similarly worn, yet imposing Heavenly King statue, watching over two young men as they poured out their hearts to each other. It had stared at them as if ready to summon lightning to strike them down at any moment.

But back then, Meng Qiqi hadn’t cared. He held the person he thought more important than his own life, kissed him awkwardly, and even cheekily winked at the glowering statue.

He had once been full of feelings, burning to let them out. There was so much he wanted to say. Born into poverty, he had feared neither wind nor rain, nor the constraints of propriety.

Back then, he hadn’t yet learned just how much the world could change. Still, he wasn’t ready to give up. He wanted to resist, to fight back. As for those who had once blocked his path, looked down on him, or chased him away like a mad dog, Meng Qiqi sincerely hoped they lived a long, long life.

Because only the living have the privilege of nightmares.

Meng Qiqi looked at Chen Boyan. His eyes stung faintly as he blinked. “Even if you’ve figured out who I am, you can’t reveal it just yet,” he said lightly. “Your martial uncle has important matters to attend to. Understood, nephew?”