Chapter 105: The Gathering

Although Siming Mountain boasts beautiful scenery, it was now deep winter; the trees and grasses on the mountain were bare, and the snow piled high. As a result, few ventured up the mountain to enjoy its beauty at this time.

Yet at noon that day, on the snow-covered peak, two figures walked side by side. One was old, the other young—Liang Yan and Yun Xuzi.

After walking for a while, a babbling brook suddenly appeared ahead. Strangely, in such cold weather, the brook should have frozen into ice, yet it flowed cheerfully as if untouched by winter’s chill.

Yun Xuzi, however, showed no surprise. He raised his hand and cast a spell into his storage ring. A small wooden boat floated out, transforming into a beam of azure light before settling into the stream.

The boat lengthened with the wind, suddenly becoming ten meters long. The gentle current caused no disturbance; it was as steady as if it sailed over flat ground.

Yun Xuzi stepped into the boat first, sitting cross-legged and entering a meditative state.

Liang Yan glanced downstream. The vast expanse of snow stretched endlessly, with no end in sight. He shook his head slightly and followed Yun Xuzi onto the boat.

Together they drifted downstream, soon plunging into a thick white mist. When it cleared, Liang Yan found himself inside a cavern.

The cave was deep and narrow; the far end shrouded in darkness beyond his eyesight.

As the boat slowly advanced, the river narrowed, and the rocky walls gradually closed in. Eventually, the boat grazed against the cavern’s edge.

They drifted silently in the darkness for an unknown time until a faint light appeared ahead. Growing brighter, the boat rocked slightly before emerging from the cavern.

Before them lay a vast, still lake, surrounded by mountains on all sides. No path led out except the narrow cavern behind them.

In the center of the lake stood a small island, where four people were gathered—some seated, some standing—divided between the east and west ends.

At the east sat a sickly scholar, smiling warmly toward Yun Xuzi.

Behind him stood a young woman in blue, whom Liang Yan had seen at the tavern. Today she wore sturdy clothes rather than carrying books and wine, appearing strong and spirited.

At the west end sat a middle-aged man in coarse clothes, a long knife strapped to his back. A scar ran across his cheek, giving him a grim and ruthless look.

Behind him stood a young scholar who winked at Liang Yan. Liang Yan recognized him well—it was Ji Lai, the one who had dragged him off to the Li Chun Courtesan House a few days prior.

Liang Yan turned his head slightly, pretending not to know him. At that moment, the sickly scholar spoke:

“Brother Yun, long time no see. To think after so many years, you still retain your grace—truly a joy to behold!”

Though his voice was soft, Liang Yan, standing at the lake’s edge, heard it clearly.

“Heh, Brother Li has also made great progress. No need to tease humble Yun,” Yun Xuzi replied with a distant salute.

The two exchanged compliments across the lake, carefully avoiding mention of their recent secret meeting at the tavern, their mutual understanding unspoken.

After speaking, Yun Xuzi withdrew the boat and, weaving another spell, grabbed Liang Yan, leaping onto his whisk broom. They transformed into a streak of blue light and landed on the island.

“Brother Zhao Wuming, long time no see!” Yun Xuzi greeted the scarred man.

“Heh, thank you for still remembering me,” Zhao Wuming chuckled meaningfully as he glanced at him.

Seeing this, Yun Xuzi fell silent, imitating the sickly scholar by seating himself on a green stone, crossing his legs to meditate. Liang Yan could only stand behind him and wait.

No sooner had they settled than a crane’s cry echoed from the cavern entrance. A flash of white light streaked through the air—a white crane flew overhead, carrying two figures: the Crane Lady and Murong Xuewei.

Upon landing, the Crane Lady nodded slightly to the three and led Murong Xuewei to a secluded spot, quietly preparing herself.

With the four groups assembled, silence fell over the cavern.

The group sat in meditation for some time until laughter came from the cavern mouth.

“Amida Buddha, I did not expect you all to be so eager. This humble monk has been negligent,” a voice called out.

Liang Yan looked to see a massive fan drifting down the stream, two meters long. Standing on it was a tall, broad-shouldered monk in yellow robes, his face beaming with a smile. On his shoulder sat a boy monk of about twelve, chanting sutras while holding prayer beads.

“Hmph! Smiling Monk, you clearly arrived in Mingyi City earlier. Why come so late now?” Yun Xuzi snorted.

“Heh!” The monk’s smile remained unchanged. “I am unlike the others; I cultivate the way of bitter Zen. At each place, I must experience the worldly suffering firsthand, thus my journey is delayed.”

“Nonsense! You drink and feast daily—what bitter Zen is that?” Li Zheng said skeptically.

“Heh, dear brother, you do not understand. Wine and meat may poison the body, yet my heart dwells among the people’s suffering. Like a field of Asuras, no matter how much I indulge, it cannot lessen the torment within,” the monk explained.

“Hmph, twisted nonsense,” Li Zheng sneered, turning away.

Amid their banter, the monk reached the island. He retracted the fan, carried the boy monk on his shoulder, and leapt ashore.

“Hmm?” The monk’s gaze swept over the island’s occupants before pausing curiously on Liang Yan.

“This one is not a pure Yang body. Brother Yun, could there be a mistake?” he asked.

“Hmph, I would not be mistaken,” Yun Xuzi opened his eyes calmly. “His cultivation method is unusual. He has reached the Vajra Body stage of the Buddhist path. Though not pure Yang, he surpasses it.”

“Is that so?” The monk showed genuine surprise for the first time, scrutinizing Liang Yan with rapid eye movements, lost in thought.

At that moment, a cold wind swept across the lake’s vast surface. Even Liang Yan, with his own cultivation, felt a chill deep in his heart.

Instinctively, he looked toward the cavern entrance, where a shadow flickered before transforming into a streak of dark light. In an instant, it arrived at the island.

A figure in black stood on a rock. Tall and lean, with a hooked nose and thick lips, he scanned the group coldly, folded his arms behind his back, and closed his eyes to meditate. Not one person greeted him.

Liang Yan was puzzled but knew this was no time to cause trouble.

So far, six of the seven grand sect leaders, as mentioned by the Crane Lady, had arrived. The whereabouts of the final one remained unknown.

“Brother Hua was gravely injured during the last secret mountain palace expedition—almost perished. Could he not make the appointment this time?” the sickly scholar Li Zheng frowned.

Others shared his concern. Suddenly, a mechanical whirring sounded from afar.

They turned to see a large mechanical bird emerge from the cave mouth, carrying two women.

The lead was a striking young woman in her twenties, dressed in blue palace robes, her delicate and charming features rivaling Murong Xuewei.

Behind her was a girl of eleven or twelve, dressed in pink, shyly peeking out with wide curious eyes.

“Thank you all for waiting!” The woman piloted the mechanical bird to land on the island, bowing gracefully. “I am Meng Qi. Our sect leader sister, severely injured last time, cannot attend. Therefore, I have come in her stead for this mountain palace journey.”