Chapter 8: Returning to Xuanyuan Ridge

Mu Congyun met those eyes, bright with anticipation, and felt a pang of hesitation.

This was a situation he had never anticipated.

Their shared experiences and temperaments had made him feel an inevitable closeness to the boy, which was why he had gone out of his way to secure a future for him.

But he had never expected the boy to latch onto him like this, as if he were the only person he could trust.

It was like feeding a stray animal out of pity a few times, only for it to mistake you for its owner and follow you home.

This kind of intimate, directed attachment was beyond his expectations, stirring an instinctive urge to retreat and fear.

Ever since the first couple who adopted him sent him back to the orphanage, he had instinctively avoided forming such close bonds with others they filled him with deep unease.

In his mind, all intimate relationships would one day come to an end. 

And when they did, it was always the one who had hoped and relied more who suffered.

Mu Congyun instinctively wanted to refuse.

But the boy stood in the morning breeze, his ill-fitting tattered clothes fluttering, those pitch-black eyes fixed on him. 

There was no pleading in them, yet they seemed to silently beg, Don’t abandon me.

He must have worn the same expression when that couple returned him to the orphanage.

Before taking him home, they had taken him to the amusement park, bought him nice clothes and toys.

They had even said that quiet, well-behaved children were better-too rowdy, and they’d be a headache.

They had promised him a home, parents who would love him like any other child.

He had believed them, practicing in secret for a long time before awkwardly calling them Dad and Mom.

But within a month, they had sent him back.

That day, standing at the orphanage gate, holding the director’s hand as he watched their retreating figures without a backward glance, he hadn’t cried or made a fuss. 

He just didn’t understand why promise him a home, only to send him back?

After much thought, he concluded that he simply wasn’t a likable child.

Now, the boy before him seemed to mirror that child who had been cast aside without hesitation. 

The refusal Mu Congyun had been mustering died on his lips.

Just then, Jin Ni poked his head out from another carriage, took in the scene, and chimed in, “Senior Brother, just take him along. He looks pitiful, and it’s no trouble to keep him as a servant disciple at Wuwang Peak.”

Already wavering, Mu Congyun hesitated before finally nodding.

He pointed to the carriage step and said to Shen Qi, “Get on.”

A glimmer of light flickered in the boy’s dark eyes as he nimbly climbed up and settled in place. When he turned to look at Mu Congyun, his lips pressed together in a restrained smile.

Only then did Mu Congyun notice how striking his features were especially when he smiled, the faint dimple on one cheek making him look even more like some soft, harmless little creature.

Something in his chest softened. Mu Congyun handed him a handkerchief and gestured to his face.

Understanding, the boy took it and carefully wiped away the grime.

With that, the procession resumed its journey.

*

From Nanhuai Town, through Dongzhou City, and another five hundred li north, they arrived at Xuanling.

Most of the group were injured, so Mu Congyun didn’t rush their journey. 

They rested in Dongzhou City for two days to replenish supplies before setting out again.

Mu Congyun still drove the carriage, with Shen Qi sitting beside him.

He had changed out of his old cloth garments, now wearing new clothes Mu Congyun had bought him. 

His previously disheveled long hair was neatly tied up with a hair crown. Apart from still being unhealthily thin, his entire appearance had transformed.

Dressed in white with dark hair, his slender figure no longer seemed out of place walking beside Mu Congyun.

However, the sight of two people-one tall, one short-both dressed in white and equally taciturn, doubled the pressure felt by their fellow disciples.

Only Jin Li wasn’t particularly afraid of Mu Congyun. 

To relieve the boredom of travel, he would occasionally poke his head out to tease Shen Qi.

“Little tail, want some fruit?” 

Not knowing the boy’s name after asking twice without response, he’d taken to calling him this nickname. 

Shen Qi remained expressionless, pretending not to hear. 

But inside his sleeve, his hand gripped the wooden bracelet tightly, suppressing his irritation.

This person was more annoying than those two birds combined.

Undeterred by the silence, Jin Li turned to Mu Congyun: 

“Senior brother, what’s this little tail’s real name? We can’t keep calling him that.”

“?”

Mu Congyun blinked, turning to the boy. 

He realized he’d never actually asked for his name. 

Neither being talkative, one hadn’t asked and the other hadn’t offered.

After some hesitation, he asked: “Do you have a name?”

After days together, Shen Qi’s acting had improved. 

Hearing the question, he softly uttered two words: “Shen Qi.”

Mu Congyun frowned slightly, asking uncertainly: “Which characters?”

“The ‘Qi’ as in ‘abandoned.’”

What kind of parents would give their child such a name? 

Then remembering Shen Qi’s experiences in Nanhuai Town, he understood.

After a pause, he tentatively suggested: 

“When becoming a disciple, you could ask our master for a new name. Have you considered changing it?”

Shen Qi pressed his lips together, offering no reply.

Inside, he scoffed coldly.

“Shen” was his mother’s surname, but “Qi” was his own choice-a constant reminder that he was but a discarded piece, with nothing in this world worth clinging to.

Why change a name meant as warning?

Taking his silence as refusal, Mu Congyun didn’t press further, though he wondered at the reason.

*    *    *

The puppet-drawn carriage traveled intermittently for two days before reaching the foot of Xuanling Mountain.

As the leading Taoist sect with millennia of history, Xuanling’s numerous temples spanned the mountain ranges across Zhongzhou and Dongzhou, their glazed eaves rising like fish scales among the peaks. Passing birds’ wings brushed through lingering clouds, creating a scene straight from fairy tales.

At the mountain’s base began broad stone steps, leading upward to temples subordinate to the Three Halls and Nine Palaces.

The Mystic Mausoleum was divided into three halls and nine palaces. 

The three halls were led by the Bright Hall, which served as the main council chamber. 

The other two were the Jade Hall, responsible for managing wealth, and the Punishment Hall, overseeing disciplinary matters. 

Among the nine palaces, the Celestial Mechanism Palace stood at the forefront, followed by the remaining eight: 

Golden Vault, Heavenly Virtue, Celestial Prison, White Tiger, Vermilion Bird, Azure Dragon, Black Tortoise, and Hooked Array. These palaces were tasked with disciples’ education and other miscellaneous affairs.

The three halls handled administrative duties, with their Taoist temples situated halfway up the mountain. 

The nine palaces’ temples were located at higher elevations, each occupying its own peak, stretching from east to west.

Mu Congyun’s Celestial Mechanism Palace was perched atop the highest peak-Mount Wuwang.

After passing through the mountain gate, Mu Congyun stored away his puppet-drawn carriage. 

The disciples bid each other farewell before returning to their respective peaks to report.

Compared to other palaces with numerous disciples, the Celestial Mechanism Palace had the fewest. 

Currently, there were only four inner sect disciples, with Mu Congyun and Jin Ni accounting for two of those spots.

“I’ll report to our master first. You settle Shen Qi in,” Mu Congyun instructed Jin Ni before mounting his sword and heading to the Obscure Star Pavilion.

Upon arrival, he found the pavilion’s doors wide open, with his second junior sister, Guan Lingyue, waiting at the entrance as if expecting him.

Seeing him approach, Guan Lingyue stepped forward with a faint smile. 

“Master emerged from seclusion yesterday and said you’d return today. He’s been waiting for you in the pavilion.”

Mu Congyun felt a rare twinge of pressure, like a student about to enter an examination hall.

Taking a deep breath, he nodded. 

“I’ll go report to Master.” 

Pausing, he remembered Shen Qi and, worried Jin Ni might be too careless, added, 

“I’ve brought someone back temporarily entrusted to Jin Ni’s care. Could you help look after him, Junior Sister Lingyue?”

Guan Lingyue stared at him in astonishment.

In all their years as fellow disciples, the senior brother had never spoken so much voluntarily. 

Usually, he’d only answer when questioned.

Who knew a trip down the mountain could make him more… human?

Her prolonged gaze made Mu Congyun uncomfortable until he returned a puzzled look. 

Smiling, she finally responded, “Rest assured, Senior Brother. I’ll see to it.”

Mu Congyun nodded and said no more, stepping into the Obscure Star Pavilion with a heavy heart.

The pavilion was built on the steepest cliff of Mount Wuwang, suspended in midair on three sides except for its eastern entrance. 

To the north lay the Enlightenment Stone, where one could observe celestial phenomena and reflect on the Dao.

When not in seclusion, their master often meditated here.

Crossing the threshold, Mu Congyun saw a blue-robed figure sitting cross-legged, unbound hair cascading over shoulders in a mix of jet black and snowy white.

Master seemed to have more silver strands after this seclusion.

He bowed. 

“Master.”

“Sit.” 

Xie Cifeng opened his eyes, pale gray irises resembling a starry expanse.

Mu Congyun obeyed, too uneasy to meet his gaze.

Xie Cifeng leisurely poured tea, seeing through his nervousness but offering no escape. 

“What insights have you gained from this journey south?”

Ah, the inevitable questioning had come.

With an internal sigh, Mu Congyun first summarized the events in South Locust Town and the Divine Prayer Tree concisely before racking his brains for reflections: 

“The townsfolk’s greed overreached, bringing about their own misfortune.”

Having spoken, he lowered his eyes apprehensively.

Questions with standard answers he could handle flawlessly, but when it came to interpretive analysis, he couldn’t scrape together a passing response even if he turned his guts inside out.

Truly, he had no insights to offer.

Xie Cifeng set down his teacup with a sigh.

Just as Mu Congyun was at a loss, suspecting his master might be dissatisfied with the answer and hesitating whether to add more, Xie Cifeng proactively changed the subject: 

“Earlier, I heard you and Lingyue mention bringing someone back?”

Mu Congyun nodded, recalling Shen Qi’s appearance. 

For the first time ever, he voluntarily spoke up on someone’s behalf: 

“He’s a youth named Shen Qi whom I rescued in Nanhuai Town. He’s young and has no family. Taking pity on him, I decided to bring him back.”

Xie Cifeng showed surprise at this, his expression softening with a smile: “You get along well with this boy?”

It could be considered decent? Mu Congyun nodded hesitantly.

Most of the time, Shen Qi stayed quietly by his side, barely noticeable and never making him uncomfortable.

“If you like him, he may stay.” 

Xie Cifeng’s earlier gloom dissipated as he leisurely poured another cup of tea. 

“Bring him to me. If his aptitude is good, he may become my disciple. If not, he can remain on Wuwang Peak as an outer sect disciple. The sect leader mentioned we need more disciples here—this saves me the trouble of selecting others.”

Mu Congyun had thought securing Shen Qi a position as an outer sect disciple would be fortunate enough, never expecting such an unexpected boon.

He immediately agreed and hurried off to find Shen Qi, his retreating figure practically radiating excitement.

Xie Cifeng’s gaze lingered until Mu Congyun disappeared from view. 

Dipping his finger in the remaining tea, he traced an intricate symbol, his murmur drowned by the waterfall’s roar.

“Could it be this one?”