A City Swept by Wind and Snow GL - Chapter 24

“If someone takes a joke too far, I really will get angry.”

Night was as dark as ink, veiling the mountains and fields.

On the rugged mountain path, four figures moved swiftly and steadily. The world was so still that only the occasional rustle of wind in the treetops and the slow beat of the great hawk’s wings above them could be heard.

Xifeng looked slightly dejected, snapping branches along the way. Jinse noticed and asked, “Why the long face?”

Xifeng glanced at her and denied it. “Nothing. Just thinking about something.”

“What thing?”

“The entrance to Shui Yue Palace.”

Tang Fei, glad that the silence was finally broken, jumped in: “The entrance to Shui Yue Palace is one of the ten great mysteries of the martial world! I’ve wandered all under heaven for more than ten years, yet I’ve never found where it is!”

Jinse had a bad feeling. “You don’t mean …”

Xifeng’s look confirmed it. “Of course I don’t know either.”

“Then why are you walking out front so confidently?”

“… Because I like to.” Xifeng’s answer left Jinse half laughing, half speechless.

“So what do we do now?” Tang Fei asked.

“Wait for a guide,” said Xifeng.

“A guide? You mean Shui Yue Palace will send someone to meet us?” asked Zhuque.

“Exactly. We’ll keep heading north for thirty li. If we still don’t see a guide by then, we’ll return to the capital.”

Zhuque stuck out her tongue and looked helplessly at Jinse.

Jinse smiled. “I agree with Xifeng. I think Xinghai will send someone for us sooner or later.”

Just as she finished speaking, Tang Fei suddenly pointed back the way they came. “Eh? Speak of the devil—someone is coming!”

The others quickly caught the faint sound of approaching footsteps and looked that way.

Amid the shifting tree shadows, a pale figure slowly appeared.

“A woman!” Tang Fei declared with his uncanny sensitivity in that particular regard.

“It’s …” Xifeng’s breath caught; she whispered, “ Xue Qianxun!”

Xue Qianxun was carrying her qin, the little silver fox Xiaoxue perched elegantly on its head. She had been rushing for hours and was utterly exhausted, her gaze fixed wearily on the path ahead. As she turned a bend, she lifted her head—and was startled to see her four companions before her. At the same instant, she heard a low, indistinct exclamation. Then, like a startled swan, that graceful figure leapt forward and was suddenly right in front of her.

Xifeng looked at her, surprise and joy mingled in her eyes. Her lips moved slightly as she murmured, “ … How have you been?”

Xue Qianxun, equally astonished and delighted, paused for a heartbeat before answering, “Hungry!”

The silent wilderness soon echoed with the crackle of a campfire. Golden flames licked at two roasting pheasants, sending up a mouthwatering aroma.

Sitting across from the fire, Jinse asked, “Miss Xue, quite some skill you’ve shown. Didn’t He Qishu send people after you?”

Xue Qianxun looked proud. “How many people in the world can match my Treading-Waves lightness skill? Besides, I was flying for my life all the way here.”

Jinse chuckled softly, stood, and went to her side, studying her face. Xue Qianxun flinched instinctively, but Jinse’s gaze was warm—like sunlight wrapping gently around her, leaving nowhere to hide.

“What are you staring at?” Xue Qianxun bristled like a small animal on guard, baring her little fangs.

“Not bad,” Jinse said kindly, stroking Xue Qianxun’s forehead with an elder’s fondness. “After hours of travel you still look full of spirit. — Xifeng, our apprentice is quite the talent.” She turned toward Xifeng, lounging on a high branch.

Xifeng’s clear eyes drifted their way; seeing Xue Qianxun again, that gaze grew gentle. She answered without modesty, “Indeed. Our partnership, as always, perfect.”

Xue Qianxun snorted and poked at the fire with a stick.

Soon the pheasants were ready. The deft Zhuque sprinkled on a few spices she always carried, making the meat even more delicious. The others ate heartily, praising her as a goddess of cooking. Tang Fei was especially moved, exclaiming, “Sister Zhuque, you’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met! Never in my life have I eaten roast pheasant this good! If my brother could taste a bite, he could die with no regrets!”

Zhuque blushed and laughed. “Tang Fei, weren’t you once a thief? Didn’t you always eat whatever you wanted?”

Tang Fei widened his eyes, waving his arms. “A thief? That doesn’t mean I had money! I was a chivalrous thief! You know what that means? A chivalrous thief doesn’t steal from the poor, nor keep the loot for himself!”

Zhuque giggled behind her sleeve.

“Hmph, listen to him dressing himself up like a saint,” Xue Qianxun said coldly.

Tang Fei turned toward her with tearful, aggrieved eyes—her constant disdain wounded him deeply.

“Miss Xue,” he said aloud, stepping before her, “please treat Tang Fei as a friend from now on. My duel with the High Priest Xifeng is over. From the moment I admitted defeat, I’ve been, like Zhuque and Jinse, your companion—through hardship and danger alike, standing by you and Xifeng forever, never betraying you.” He held out the roasted pheasant wing respectfully. “Here—fresh and fragrant, for you.”

His sincerity left Xue Qianxun momentarily flustered, even guilty for her sharpness. After a pause, she pouted and huffed, “Who wants a wing you’ve already bitten?”

Tang Fei laughed. “No, no—this perfect wing’s for my brother! When we were kids we roasted things in the wild like this, but never anything this good. If I don’t give him a taste, he’d die of envy.”

Watching him set the wing reverently before a small makeshift shrine, Xue Qianxun felt a faint sadness. “His dearest kin was killed by Xifeng,” she thought. “He must hurt so much. But life in the martial world—who isn’t living at the edge of the blade? Every killer is one day slain by someone stronger. No matter how you train, you can never know if someone greater is out there, waiting.”

Unconsciously she looked toward Xifeng. Perched on a branch, Xifeng had already drifted into a doze. Asleep, her face had none of the day’s cold pride—only a serene beauty, lashes casting soft shadows like any ordinary girl.

Then Jinse came over quietly, laying her own cloak over Xue Qianxun. “Our High Priest found us a fine road; there won’t be an inn for leagues. Rest by the fire a bit—dawn’s just two hours off.”

“Aren’t you cold?” Xue Qianxun asked.

Jinse smiled. “I knew you’d rush out in a hurry and forget half your things, so I packed extra clothes. Spring’s coming, but we’re heading farther north.”

“So you knew I’d come.”

“That day you came running for Xiaoxue, your eyes were saying loud and clear: ‘Let Xiaoxue take me after you!’ ”

“‘Running like a monkey,’ you said,” Xue Qianxun muttered, frowning in mock resentment.

Jinse smiled faintly and rose. Xue Qianxun watched her back and called softly, “Thank you for giving me Xiaoxue. But I’m no beast-tamer—I don’t know how …”

“Don’t worry,” Jinse replied without turning. “Xiaoxue is clever. You’ll be good friends. In fact, even for me she’s never a creature to control; I’ve never used force on her.”

“You mean you didn’t subdue her by strength?” Xue Qianxun asked.

Jinse smiled. “Conquest by force wins no lasting trust. Even beast-tamers can’t treat every being as an enemy to overpower. If you can, be friends instead. A beast may one day bite its master—but a friend lets you sleep without fear.”

Xue Qianxun understood then how precious Xiaoxue was to Jinse. “I think I should return her …”

“When I gave you Xiaoxue that day,” Jinse interrupted softly, “I was also entrusting you to her. So accept her, Xue Qianxun.”

The little silver fox seemed to understand, burrowing affectionately into Xue Qianxun’s arms. So soft, so warm.

The fire dwindled.

Everyone slept—Xifeng and Tang Fei each on a tree, the great hawk Wuya standing guard by Xifeng, while Jinse, Zhuque, and Xue Qianxun rested together in a small tent.

Above, the heavens glittered with stars, shining upon one another like the people below—none truly alone forever.

And Xue Qianxun’s dreams were no longer what they once had been. Now, the hand that led her forward was not only the masked swordswoman of her past. Yet the one who had filled her lonely, fragile childhood—her image was receding, blurring. Even staring straight at that unmasked face, Xue Qianxun could no longer see it clearly.

She reached out—but caught only air.
She tried to call—but no sound came.
She wanted to beg her not to go too far.
Farther—and she would vanish forever.

Tears streamed down Xue Qianxun’s sleeping face.

No matter how many companions surround you, she realized, the one who still stirs the softest place in your heart is always the first person who ever lived there.

She sobbed quietly in her sleep, fingers curling.

The light-sleeper Jinse sensed the motion, opened her eyes. There the girl was, curled like a shrimp, hiding her head in her arms as if fleeing something. Jinse sighed, turned onto her back—but couldn’t sleep again. She sat up, gaze falling on the small, trembling figure. So thin. The pale nape, the faint ridge of a bone under skin …

Then a crack—branches snapping outside. A thud.

Jinse sprang from the tent. Under the circling hawk lay another “little shrimp.”

High on the other tree, Tang Fei gawked down in shock like a startled monkey. Jinse gestured for silence and darted to Xifeng’s side.

The fallen Xifeng seemed still half asleep, brow knit, muttering in a dream. “You two troublesome ones,” Jinse thought bitterly, cradling her and gripping her cold hand. Suddenly tears slid from Xifeng’s lashes as she choked out the unthinkable words:

“Qianxun … will vanish one day.”

“What happened? The High Priest—” Zhuque’s anxious voice behind her made Jinse flinch.

Xifeng startled awake. From her nightmare she returned, eyes glistening like stars, filled with helpless sorrow. Jinse’s face was pale with shock and pity. Realizing her own position—held in Jinse’s arms— Xifeng grew cold again, struggling to rise, to restore her calm and poise.

But Jinse quietly pressed a point on her wrist; she couldn’t summon strength.

“Don’t be afraid. It’s fine if she saw,” Jinse whispered soothingly. Something in her tone stilled Xifeng—her breathing eased, her bright eyes steady again.

Tang Fei watched from his perch, saying nothing, tense as ever.

Xue Qianxun hurried over, eyes red, voice trembling. “What’s wrong with Xifeng? How did she fall from the tree?”

Zhuque was already taking Xifeng’s pulse.

“Is she still hurt?” Xue Qianxun asked. “With her skills, how could she fall?”

“Don’t tease her, little fool,” Jinse whispered to Zhuque, tugging her sleeve. Then to Xue Qianxun she said aloud, “Our High Priest must’ve picked a brittle branch. What else?”

Tang Fei jumped in, “Right, right—early spring, branches are still weak! Even masters can … uh, get embarrassed. Heh heh.”

So Xue Qianxun looked up, studying the branches. Are they really that brittle?

Tang Fei added hastily, “Still, I never knew Xifeng could be so heavy!”

Jinse shot him a sideways glare. “Say that again and she’ll cry.”

Tang Fei circled around, peered at Xifeng, and gasped, “Ah! She is crying! Master Xifeng, I’m sorry! Don’t cry!”

Xue Qianxun ran over, scolding, “You idiot! Xifeng is not heavy!”

Hidden behind Jinse, Xifeng whispered faintly, “Thank you.” Then she gently pushed Jinse’s hands away and rose gracefully. The tear marks on her face were dry; her expression calm and cool once more. Composed, she said, “When you dream of a river covered in blossoms, remember not to cross it—you’ll step into emptiness.” A small, enigmatic smile touched her lips.

Zhuque stared at her, stricken.

“Wonderful, I was worrying for nothing,” Xue Qianxun sighed in relief. “I dreamed Xifeng was taken by a black shadow—I thought it was some omen … Heh, silly me.”

Tang Fei snorted. “If you dreamed the sky was falling, would that mean the end of the world?”

Xue Qianxun, still giddy with relief, laughed and didn’t mind him. But her words had shaken Xifeng to the core.

“Look, dawn’s coming,” Jinse said, pointing east.

“Let’s go,” said Xifeng.

Once again she led the way. No one knew where Shui Yue Palace was—they only followed north. Most of the baggage, including Xue Qianxun’s qin, was given to Tang Fei to carry.

“Come, come, leave it all to me!” he boasted cheerfully.

Xue Qianxun followed right behind Xifeng, content just to gaze at her back from so close.

Jinse deliberately slowed, signaling Zhuque to keep pace with her. When they’d fallen several dozen zhang behind, Jinse asked quietly, “Was Xifeng really all right just now?”

Zhuque’s brows were dark with worry. “It’s my failing as a healer—I can’t tell what’s inside her body. At first I thought it was a gu parasite, but that thing has a power beyond anything I’ve ever seen. Whenever I probe her internal yuan energy, mine gets devoured by it. It feels like facing a monster that can never be sated.”

Jinse mused, “So what lives inside Xifeng is a true demon.”

Zhuque gasped. “Impossible! The books say a person’s body can host gu worms, yes—but a demon? What is a demon? No text ever mentions that …”

Jinse laughed softly. “You say the books don’t—because you’ve not read all the books. And who can claim to know every being, every power in this world? So …” She sighed. “If someone told me that within Xifeng dwells another, stronger soul, I’d believe it.”

Zhuque stopped breathing for a moment. “That can’t be! I’m a physician—no one knows the human body better than I. How could such a thing be possible?”

Jinse shrugs. “Perhaps it’s my ignorance of medicine that lets me make such wild guesses. You know, I’ve even wondered if the spirit inside her … is our own cult master—Longwen.”

“L–Longwen?” Zhuque almost screamed. To her, that name was a hundred times more terrifying than He Qishu’s. “No! Impossible! I’ve seen the Dragon-Kiss Master. The way he kills—it’s horrifying.”

“Oh?” Jinse’s eyes brightened with interest. “Tell me—how horrifying?”

“When you joined the Free Spirit Sect, the Dragon-Kiss Master had already gone into hiding, so you never saw him. But I did. He wore long, wide black robes, a black gauze hat, the whole man shrouded like a shadowed cloud. Terrifying,” Zhuque whispered, her voice trembling as if that dark figure stood before her again.

“Is the Dragon Kiss a man or a woman?” Jinse asked calmly.

“The cult leader is very tall—he must be a man.”

“Must be? You’re guessing. Have you ever heard him speak?”

“He doesn’t speak. He only kills. When there’s something to say, he lets the High Priest speak for him.”

“Then do they ever appear together?”

“Rarely—but yes, it has happened,” Zhuque recalled.

Jinse smiled faintly and murmured, “That proves nothing. It’s not hard to find a stand-in from time to time.”

“What do you mean?” Zhuque asked, puzzled.

Jinse said, “I’ll put it like a story for you. The Dragon Kiss—this thing no one knows whether it’s male or female, god or ghost—lives inside Xifeng’s body. Years ago, when Xifeng was still young, the Dragon Kiss’s power far exceeded hers. So the Dragon Kiss took control of her body, slaughtered countless people, and dyed the martial world in bl00d—then founded the Carefree Divine Cult.
At that time, although the Dragon Kiss ruled over Xifeng’s body, Xifeng’s appearance was inconvenient for revealing himself to others. The Dragon Kiss had to create an external shell, a disguise to deceive the world, and even that exaggerated façade had to be kept hidden to ensure no one saw through it.

Later, as Xifeng grew up and her looks changed, people would no longer recognize her easily. So the Carefree Divine Cult suddenly produced a young and powerful High Priestess, whose most important duty was to deliver the orders of the Dragon Kiss cult leader.
As time went on, Xifeng’s mental strength gradually surpassed the Dragon Kiss’s, and she began to regain control of her own body. Under the name Xifeng, she became famous throughout the land, while the Dragon Kiss was forced to ‘hide’ within.

But since the Dragon Kiss had long allied with He Qishu, and because Xifeng could not always guarantee victory in their inner struggle, she had no choice but to continue serving as the cult’s High Priestess—the Dragon Kiss leader’s sole voice—until some unknown day when she can completely break free of the Dragon Kiss’s hold.”

As Zhuque listened to Jinse’s words, her face grew paler and paler. She didn’t want to believe it, yet Jinse spoke with such precision and confidence that every stage of her reasoning sounded perfectly logical, disturbingly convincing.

“I don’t like the Dragon Kiss cult leader,” Zhuque whispered after a long silence. “His commands are always so cruel. It’s only after he ‘disappeared’ that the Carefree Divine Cult stopped being so terrifying.”

Jinse smiled. “That’s because, when he was ‘hidden,’ the commands actually came from Xifeng.”

Zhuque looked earnestly at Jinse. “Everything you just said—is it true?”

Jinse shrugged. “I want to confirm it myself. What I said is only a deduction. To know the truth, we can only wait and see.”

Zhuque gazed at Xifeng’s elegant figure ahead and murmured inwardly: All along, has Xifeng’s greatest enemy really been inside her own body?

They were just about to emerge from the forest.

Xue Qianxun turned back, waving her arms enthusiastically. “We’re near the town! Hurry up!”

Zhuque patted her own cheeks lightly, forcing a cheerful expression.

Jinse smiled. “Sister Zhuque, don’t take my rambling too seriously. Just remember one thing: Xifeng’s martial power and willpower are both the strongest.”

Zhuque blinked and nodded firmly. “Mm!”

Inside a teahouse.

Xifeng murmured to herself, “How far have we gone now?”

“Thirty li,” Tang Fei replied with certainty, well-accustomed to wandering everywhere.

Xifeng set down her teacup and said decisively, “We’re going back.”

Jinse was the first to stand up, gathering their things—every bit the posture of someone ready to head home.

Zhuque said, “We’re really just leaving like this? What will the Prince say?”

Xifeng replied indifferently, “We’ll say we got lost.”

Tang Fei’s eyes widened. “Are you serious, Master Xifeng? You look furious!”

Xifeng shot him a cold glance. “When someone takes a joke too far, I do get angry.”

Zhuque and Xue Qianxun didn’t understand what she meant, but Jinse chuckled softly. “So you’ve realized it after all. The Water-Moon Palace’s guide has been beside us all along.”

Tang Fei pouted in disappointment. “No fun, no fun—you’re ending the game already? At least let’s walk a few more steps back!”

Just then, a sparrow flew through the window and dropped a strip of white cloth onto their table. On it were written the words: Meet at the pine forest to the northwest.

The one who had been joking finally got serious.