M49S Vol 2. Dashing Youth In Silk And Fire Chapter 63: The Road To The Ends Of The Earth

When Wang Ziling awoke from unconsciousness, it was already the morning after the Knock upon the Immortal Gate had ended.

He woke up from hunger. His head was light, his limbs weak, and he nearly rolled right off the bed.

It wasn’t until he had devoured three giant bowls of noodles that his sluggish brain began to function again. Only then did he realize, belatedly, that Uncle Chai had returned.

And that the entire city of Jinling had changed.

“What? The Grand Elder is dead?!” Wang Ziling’s voice shot up in pitch. As much as he had spent years cursing the man to die, now that he actually had, it felt surreal. After all, he had been cursing him for over a decade with no success. How could someone else have just killed him like that, so easily?

He listened carefully to the series of events that had unfolded during the final day of the competition, mouth hanging open in shock the whole time. But when he heard that Wang Changlin wanted him to return to the clan and help handle internal affairs, every hair on his body stood on end.

“No way! I’m not going back! Wang Jing is dead, I’m going to be next! I’m not going back!”

It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck through Wang Ziling’s meridians. Not only had his cultivation improved, but he had grown sharper as well. He raced to Chanhua Tower in search of Meng Qiqi, only to be told that the disciples of Gushan Sword had already departed at first light.

The Wang clan had no idea who the “little mad dog” was, but someone recognized the box that had once been in Guiluoluo’s hands. As a result, the entire city had been mobilized to search for Guiluoluo, and no one stopped the Gushan group from leaving.

Wang Ziling blended into the crowd, brushing past the Wang clan’s search teams. At first, he had been lost and disoriented from not seeing Meng Qiqi, but now a sense of resolve surged through him. He had to leave Jinling once again. Only in a wider world could he grow strong enough.

Only then could he take back everything that was his.

Wang Ziling turned and sprinted toward Lion Tower.

At the same time, at a courier post outside the city, Tang Li was saying farewell on behalf of several junior disciples. Jin Man, still dressed in his signature fiery red robes, swept his gaze over the Gushan disciples.

“Where is Meng Qiqi?” he asked. “Why didn’t he come see me himself? Don’t tell me he’s done something shameful and is too afraid to face me.”

Tang Li gave a helpless smile. “Please don’t be offended, Lord Jin. Our Little Martial Uncle just loves to wander. Most of the year, we don’t even catch a glimpse of him. I really couldn’t stop him.”

Jin Man had no intention of exchanging pleasantries. He closed his folding fan and slung it behind his back, turning to leave with Yao Guan at his side. As he walked away, a single line drifted back on the wind.

“Tell Meng Qiqi I’ve taken care of that mother and child. The matter is settled. We owe each other nothing now.”

“That mother and child?” Tang Li turned toward Xiao Xiao.

Xiao Xiao explained, “A woman Wuyan abducted, and the child she gave birth to. Wuyan may have committed all kinds of evil, but they were innocent.”

Tang Li nodded, then gave a bitter smile. “Xiao Xiao, you were the last one to see your master. Do you know where he went?”

Xiao Xiao shook his head. “Senior Uncle, Master only said we would split into two groups. He said he would return to Gushan eventually. And with Senior Brother going with him, there’s no need to worry.”

But how could Tang Li not worry?

That Little Martial Uncle of theirs had only just reappeared, and now he had vanished again. What was he supposed to tell their sect leader when they returned? That not only had he run off again, but he also took your disciple with him?

Unacceptable. Completely unacceptable.

Xiao Yu’er looked up at Xiao Xiao. “Will Master come back for me soon?”

“He will, Xiao Yu’er,” Xiao Xiao said with a gentle smile and reached out to pat his head.

At that very moment, Meng Qiqi was standing with Chen Boyan on Wuwang, riding through the air as they looked down at the city of Jinling beneath their feet.

The wind whipped through the sky, tugging at the plain-colored cloak Chen Boyan had found for him. Half of Meng Qiqi’s still-pale face was hidden beneath the hood, making his small figure appear even more delicate.

The Holy Sovereign had quietly left through the west gate a stick of incense earlier. She rode alone down the long official road, while Gu Shutong followed from afar, never daring to approach.

By now, Jin Man had left as well, and the disciples of the Sword Sect were already on their way back. Meng Qiqi looked toward the distant Lion Tower, where he saw Wang Ziling, flustered and in a rush, trying to squeeze himself and a small cloth bundle into a carriage parked at the entrance. Wang Wan’nan came striding up behind him, his expression dark with anger, and delivered a sharp kick to Ziling’s round buttock.

“Get down! What are you doing in the carriage? Run out of the city on foot!”

Wang Ziling was kicked straight off the carriage. He rubbed his butt, his expression bitter, but not even Uncle Chai stepped in to help him this time. The horse snorted in his face as if mocking him too.

Wang Wan’nan’s domineering voice boomed from inside the carriage. “You haven’t even reached the third realm. You can’t make a proper egg custard. What right do you have to be fat?”

The carriage bolted forward, leaving Wang Ziling behind in the dust. He scrambled to his feet and chased after it, thundering out of the north gate in a flurry of limbs and frustration.

The cultivators who had gathered from all corners of the world were now slowly dispersing. The grand city of Jinling still appeared much the same as half a month ago. Drenched in wealth and decadence, full of picturesque splendor, but something felt different.

In the clamor of the wind, it seemed as if traces of sword qi still lingered over Mochou Lake.

“Let’s go.” Meng Qiqi spoke lightly as he reached out and grabbed a fistful of Chen Boyan’s robe. He was still using every moment he could to recover, so he simply let Chen Boyan carry him to conserve strength.

Chen Boyan glanced at the hand gripping his sleeve, his gaze dimming slightly. “Hold on tight, Little Martial Uncle.”

Meng Qiqi raised an eyebrow. “You think I’ll fall?”

Chen Boyan pressed his lips into a thin line, the corner of his mouth carrying a faint, nearly imperceptible smile. He said nothing more.

Wuwang turned into a streak of light, carrying the two of them away. It cut through the wind and the clouds, following the spring sunlight westward.

Before long, Meng Qiqi and Chen Boyan had vanished from sight. But several miles down the road, the disciples of Gushan Sword were stopped twice.

The first to appear before them was Guiluoluo.

He had come to catch up with the little mad dog. Tang Li, unaware of their past entanglement, was thoroughly confused. Xiao Xiao, following Meng Qiqi’s instructions, stepped forward and said, “Our master has gone wandering.”

Guiluoluo didn’t believe him. But no matter how hard he searched, he could not find the little mad dog, so he flicked his sleeve and left.

Of course, everyone in Gushan Sword knew that Guiluoluo had left people behind to watch them in secret, but they all pretended not to notice.

The second person to appear was Chen Wujie.

Coincidentally, he too had come looking for Meng Qiqi. Tang Li was once again at a loss, and Xiao Xiao stepped forward to repeat, “Our master has gone wandering.”

Chen Wujie didn’t believe him either. But unlike the last one, he didn’t leave anyone behind to spy. Instead, he openly joined the group from Gushan, saying he planned to visit Gushan Mountain himself.

Half a day later, while those two were still searching in vain, Meng Qiqi and Chen Boyan turned up in a completely different direction. They found shelter in a remote village inn and quietly settled in.

When the creaky wooden door of the inn swung open, a scrawny attendant poked his head out from behind the counter, watching them curiously but making no move to greet them.

The two paid him no mind and picked a table by the window. A shaft of fragmented sunlight spilled through the torn paper pane, falling across the table. That single stroke of brightness instantly lifted Meng Qiqi’s spirits.

Even the dust motes dancing in the spring light seemed more pleasant to the eye.

Once Chen Boyan had wiped the table and chairs clean, Meng Qiqi sat down with a leisurely air. He was in such a good mood that he reached out, stretching his long, slender fingers into the sunlight as if to play with it.

Chen Boyan watched the tips of those rounded fingers flicker in and out of the light, tracing the shape of Meng Qiqi’s face through the haze of spring. For a moment, it felt as though they had been reunited after a long separation.

And so, when Shen Qingya stepped into the inn, following the trail of signs the two had left along the road, the scene he stumbled upon was one he knew all too well.

Chen Boyan sat upright, quietly watching Meng Qiqi across the table, helpless and indulgent all at once.

Meng Qiqi lay slouched over the table, lazily flicking at the dust motes drifting through the spring light, complaining that the innkeeper still hadn’t brought them tea. The next moment, he spotted Shen Qingya and broke into a bright smile, lifting his hand to wave him over.

“Over here!”

For a brief moment, it was as if they were both still eighteen.

Shen Qingya strode toward them, a flicker of emotion breaking through the surface. It really felt like nothing had ever changed. He heard himself laugh and say to Meng Qiqi, “Took me forever to find this place. What kind of inn is this, out in the middle of nowhere?”

Meng Qiqi blinked and said with a grin, “That’s exactly why it’s perfect. The more remote a place is, the more likely it is to attract reclusive masters. We’re out here walking the jianghu, seeking immortality and the Way, of course we should go where the high-level eccentrics are. Maybe we’ll learn some world-shattering technique while we’re at it. Right?”

“Tch.” A scoff came from behind them.

The innkeeper had finally stepped out from behind the counter. He scratched his ear and asked casually, “So, what’ll it be?”

Meng Qiqi was just about to ask for a pot of spring green snail, but then he remembered the little mad dog from years ago, who couldn’t even afford a pot of bitter tea. So he changed his mind and simply said, “Just a pot of water.”

The innkeeper curled his lip and wandered off.

Shen Qingya took a seat, his gaze passing over Chen Boyan, who hadn’t looked at him even once. “Brother Chen, you don’t mind if I travel with you two, do you?”

Chen Boyan still didn’t look at him, nor did he answer. His eyes remained fixed on Meng Qiqi. “Little Martial Uncle, you said you had personal matters to handle. Was that with Brother Shen?”

Meng Qiqi gave a cryptic smile. “Why don’t you guess?”

He turned to Shen Qingya and began chatting with him.

They were still talking about what had happened in Jinling.

That morning, the moment Chen Boyan received the news, he had immediately told Meng Qiqi. Meng Qiqi made a quick decision. The disciples of Gushan Sword would leave Jinling immediately, while he and Chen Boyan slipped quietly out of the city by another route.

“Guiluoluo moved too fast. Back then, Wang Jing was able to get someone from Guiluo to make an attempt on my life. That alone suggests Guiluoluo was involved in my Little Martial Uncle disappearance years ago. Now he’s rushed to kill Wang Jing before we could reach him. It’s clear he wants to silence him forever.”

“Does that mean the trail is cut off?” Shen Qingya asked.

“We can’t afford to provoke Guiluoluo right now, and we haven’t found any other connections,” Meng Qiqi replied. He tapped his fingertip lightly against the table. “It looks like the lead has gone cold, but there’s still another thread. The secret realm.”

“Before we left,” he continued, “Xiao Xiao came to pass along what he had learned from Wuyan. He said the Wang clan took Wuyan in because he held a fragment of the Celestial Map, along with some secrets related to the secret realm.”

Shen Qingya understood immediately. “You told me before that you found Zhou Ziheng’s notes inside the secret realm. And you even encountered someone capable of performing the Hundred and Eight Petals of the Lotus Sword. Is it possible… Zhou Ziheng is still alive?”

“I don’t believe he’s dead,” Meng Qiqi said, “but the person I met didn’t have the same presence as my Little Martial Uncle.”

Chen Boyan, who had not known about this until now, was taken aback. “The Lotus Sword is one of Gushan’s most guarded secrets. It should be impossible for an outsider to know it.”

“That’s why this person is crucial,” Meng Qiqi said. “The first time I encountered him was inside the secret realm, a place ordinary people can’t easily reach. Yet he appeared there, in the same place as me. Why? It suggests he’s searching or investigating something, possibly the same thing I am.

“The second time was during the Wuyan incident. This man and the force behind him were the ones who captured the real Wuyan from the Wang clan and later delivered him straight to me. That was when I saw him again.

“This person, or perhaps this group, is deeply connected to the secret realm, and to the disappearance of my Little Martial Uncle. There is undoubtedly a massive secret hidden between these three things.”

He spoke with the clarity of someone pulling thread from a tangle, every word steady and sure.

Shen Qingya could tell he had already made up his mind. “What do you plan to do next?” he asked.

“Those people are impossible to pin down. We can’t trace them, and Little Martial Uncle is already missing. That leaves us with only one lead. The secret realm. We stick to the original plan. Follow the same road as before, retrace every step, and look for other secret realms along the way. I have a few suspicions, but I need more proof.”

“Just the three of us?” Chen Boyan asked.

“That’s right, just the three of us. What, are you scared, Senior Nephew?” Meng Qiqi’s lips curved upward. Perhaps the reunion of the three had stirred old memories. A touch of his youthful pride seemed to return, and in his eyes, stars blazed bright, impossible to look away from.

A tremor stirred in the depths of Chen Boyan’s chest. His natal sword, resting in his dantian, began to hum with excitement, as if unable to wait another moment to ride by his side across the land.

“Have you forgotten, Little Martial Uncle?” Chen Boyan’s gaze softened. “I promised our master I would bring you back to Gushan. If you refuse to return, then I’ll just have to follow you wherever you go.”

Meng Qiqi shook his head and sighed. “Fangjun, that’s not how this works. If I never go back, are you planning to follow me forever? Never marry a wife?”

Chen Boyan knew he was being teased again. His gaze drifted to the grass bead string hanging from Meng Qiqi’s waist as he answered, “I leave it to Little Martial Uncle to decide.”

“Hm?” Meng Qiqi raised an eyebrow.

Shen Qingya smiled faintly. Chen Boyan might not have realized it yet, but he did. He understood exactly what Meng Qiqi had meant by walking that old road once more.

That road was the same path the three of them had traveled together in their youth. The road to the ends of the earth.

And if they walked it again, perhaps they could bring back the Chen Fangjun they had lost along the way.