Chapter 187: Vermilion Bird and White Tiger

Chapter 187: Vermilion Bird and White Tiger

Following Xuanchong to the sect’s main hall, Zhao Changhe felt a twinge of disappointment at the enshrined statues—not of Zhenwu, but of the Three Pure Ones.

Perhaps solving mysteries wasn’t a fate brought by the jade token; he had stirred up trouble himself by chasing cases, so who could he blame?

In truth, unraveling the secrets of this world was also a form of sleuthing.

Before the Three Pure Ones sat an old Daoist, his hair and beard white as snow, with an air of immortal grace.

Watching his seated posture, Zhao Changhe suddenly realized he had unconsciously been using the cross-legged meditation pose for a long time. Both Chichi and Yue Hongling had once said this was a Daoist cultivation posture, not necessary for every technique, but since he had begun quieting his mind, he had instinctively chosen this way of sitting—it seemed to hold some meaning.

The old Daoist had his eyes closed, but as the two stepped into the hall, they opened precisely, and he offered a faint smile: “Back?”

Then he nodded at Zhao Changhe: “Young hero, your body bears sinister arts, and many call you a demonic outlaw. Yet from your deeds now, the killing aura rises without while chivalry dwells within. Xuanchong has made a good friend; his journey south has been most fruitful. Please, sit.”

The flattery felt pleasant, and Zhao Changhe set aside for now the thought of whether this man was Xuanwu, nor would he mention that he and Xuanchong were not particularly close. He performed a junior’s salute and sat cross-legged on a nearby cushion. Soon a young Daoist served tea, bowed, and withdrew.

To be fair, though the hospitality was simple, it was more courteous than the Cui or Tang families, and with the sect’s harmonious atmosphere, Zhao Changhe’s impression was favorable.

Xuanchong said, “Your disciple is dull-witted. During the Yangzhou trip, aside from assisting the local authorities in capturing the heretics of the Maitreya Sect, I did little. Even unraveling the Maitreya Sect’s plot was sparked by Brother Wan; Brother Zhao, Brother Tang, and Lady Yue charged into the temple. I was utterly unaware of that battle and took no part.”

“No matter… Someone like Young Hero Zhao, with a fervent heart and a body wreathed in killing intent, needs stillness of mind. See how naturally he now sits in full lotus. As for someone like you, raised in the mountains, your mind is still and inactive, so you touch nothing. You only need to experience more affairs to understand the mortal world. Once you’ve lived through them, you’ll think more deeply when faced with events, and next time, you’ll be the one to make a difference. That is your worldly cultivation.”

Xuanchong bowed: “Your disciple receives your teaching.”

“Therefore, you must attend the Wang family banquet. Not only attend, but if the Wang heir tests his sword against you, fight with all your might to defeat him—do not be perfunctory.”

“…Yes.” Xuanchong agreed, but couldn’t help asking, “Master, do you also think he is testing his sword?”

“He is testing the hearts of the realm.” Guichen smiled faintly. “To see how many are willing to bow to the Wang family, what the Cui family thinks, how the forces behind other hidden dragons view it, whether our Taiyi Sect is easy to bully, and so on. If things cannot be done, it will merely be a young master’s sword test, arrogant from the invitation onward, and a few scoldings will do no great harm.”

Xuanchong was startled, his heart leaping: “They want to declare independence?”

“Who knows? After all, the crown prince is dead…” Guichen said lightly, then fell silent.

Xuanchong’s expression darkened. If the Wang family intended to declare independence, the Taiyi Sect, being so close, would be the first to have to show their stance—either submit or pack up and flee.

And his master had said to fight with all might to win… that meant they did not intend to submit.

Xuanchong asked cautiously, “Master, your order that those of unknown identity may not enter the mountain—is it related to this?”

“It is related to the Wang family’s move, but it is not against them.” Guichen smiled. “The Wang family does this; many will see through their intent. Do you think someone might maliciously fan the flames? For instance, if something suddenly happened to our Taiyi Sect, how would others view it?”

Even Xuanchong’s gentle temper couldn’t help cursing: “Damn it…”

Zhao Changhe inwardly agreed that this was indeed possible—truly a case of being caught in the crossfire.

Fortunately, Guichen was a strongman ranked twenty-ninth on the Earth Ranking. Though the rank seemed low, in truth fewer than thirty people in the entire world could defeat him. Ordinary people with ill intent would not dare act rashly; for any other sect, they would have already fled.

Thus, in chaotic times, one’s own fist was the ultimate truth—others would not reason with you.

Xuanchong said, “But Master, what use is having the gatekeepers check identities? Might as well just close the doors and refuse guests.”

“There is no difference. A strong man who wishes to sneak in cannot be stopped. If such a strong man makes a move, he would be after my head.” Guichen spoke as if it were none of his concern, very calmly. “This identity check is merely a signal to the outside world: the old Daoist is prepared, and those who wish to cause trouble should weigh the consequences. And since I am prepared, I have likely communicated with the court and the Wang family. Whether I live or die will not change the outcome—so is it still necessary to force the matter?”

Xuanchong was dumbfounded: “Why do I feel I’ve been cultivating a false Dao all my life? Is this what we Daoists consider?”

Guichen smiled, a trace of regret in his expression: “Foolish child, in times of chaos, where is there purity?”

Xuanchong muttered, “Then… why not simply leave?”

“Because besides being cultivators, we are also martial artists. To flee from trouble is to hinder the sword’s progress. I can afford to stop advancing, but you cannot. From now on, let your character ‘Chong’ truly charge forward. Once you step onto the Human Ranking, then return to our Daoist ‘Chong.’”

Xuanchong was silent for a long time, then bowed deeply: “Your disciple receives your teaching.”

Zhao Changhe sat nearby, watching the master-disciple exchange, saying nothing the entire time.

It seemed there was no need to solve a mystery—it wasn’t that.

The old Daoist understood everything better than anyone; why would he need someone to solve it? Many of his words had deeply touched Zhao Changhe.

Indeed, one must travel the world and meet many heroes—this journey was not in vain.

He was certainly not Xuanwu; the Four Symbols Sect would only wish the world more chaotic.

Then… among those who might come to stir up trouble, could the Four Symbols Sect be included?

For some reason, amid this tense atmosphere, Zhao Changhe inexplicably sensed a whiff of an arena of slaughter…

Perhaps this was the bloodthirsty Shura.

…

Deep in the night, still and quiet, moonlight shone on the pine-covered hill.

Two slender figures stood under the moon, silently gazing at the faintly visible buildings of the Taiyi Sect in the distance.

“Old ginger is indeed spicier. Guichen is prepared; this matter cannot proceed.” The firebird mask glowed an eerie red under the moonlight, like smoldering demonic flames.

Red lips parted within the demonic fire, speaking chilling words yet exuding a lazy allure.

Beside her stood a woman in a white tiger mask, the tiger’s face fierce but its roundness lending a touch of cuteness, softening the killing intent.

Their figures—one mature and graceful, the other petite and delicate—were like spring orchids and autumn chrysanthemums, each with their own charm, yet neither could be seen in true form.

From beneath the white tiger mask, Xia Chichi’s eyes swept over the Vermilion Bird. She always felt that the Vermilion Bird Venerable must be a very beautiful older sister, yet even at her current status, she could not glimpse her true face.

The Vermilion Bird Venerable was not always in the sect; she was as elusive as a dragon, appearing only for important matters like this one. Xia Chichi wondered what her daily identity was—she had searched through all the tales of the martial world and found no corresponding figure. Truly strange.

Xia Chichi felt she might have been tricked. Even with the mask, the whole world probably knew that this white tiger was her, Xia Chichi. Any future undercover or infiltration missions would likely have nothing to do with her; it seemed the Vermilion Bird had dragged her here specifically to manage sect affairs… Thinking back to the Vermilion Bird’s initial delight, could there have been this hidden layer?

But regardless, though they were not formally master and disciple, there was a genuine bond of mentorship, and Xia Chichi deeply respected the Vermilion Bird.

Hearing the Vermilion Bird’s intention to abandon the plan, Xia Chichi sighed in relief: “Actually, I always thought this approach was inappropriate. The methods are too crude, the consequences unknown, and it would be a waste of effort. We’re not so desperate as to go this mad… Besides, the barbarians are more fond of such things, and what the barbarians love, we should not do.”

“In the eyes of the gods, there is no distinction between barbarians and Han. You must correct this view.” The Vermilion Bird criticized, but not harshly, essentially agreeing with Xia Chichi: “But the barbarians trust in their Shaman Eternal Heaven, which is not our path. If they truly enter the Central Plains, they will also brand us as a demonic sect to be eradicated. From that perspective, we are indeed enemies with the barbarians. The Maitreya Sect is blinded by greed, unable to see this clearly.”

Xia Chichi smiled, letting out another breath.

It was said that Zhao Changhe had entered the Taiyi Sect during the day—good, no fighting.

Then the Vermilion Bird spoke: “But now, the Cui family’s young lady is heading to Langya, isn’t she? This matter suits you well.”

“Eh?” Xia Chichi’s eyes widened.