Chapter 16: Clouds Rise, Peaks Stretch, and Nebulae Surge

“My dear boy, you’re finally awake! You nearly frightened me to death—today I ought to thrash you, you rascal!”

The next day, when Su Mu regained consciousness, the servants discovered it and gleefully reported to Su Yan. Su Yan, with his wife in tow, hurried to Su Mu’s room. Before they’d even entered, Su Mu’s mother was already fussing loudly. Remembering Jiang Yingying hidden under the bed, Su Mu felt a wave of embarrassment.

After a lengthy round of explanations to his parents, pounding his chest to assure them he was quite well, Su Mu managed to send them off in haste, thoroughly unwilling to endure more parental nagging.

Once the room was empty, Jiang Yingying rolled out from under the bed in a huff. “I’ve never in my life had to cower beneath a filthy man’s bed. The past few days have been nothing but calamity!”

Su Mu, however, sat upright, his excitement plain. “Sister Yingying, your method truly worked! After just one night, I feel brimming with energy—I can now circulate my pulse force through my entire body!”

It was only yesterday that she had taught him the fundamentals of pulse-force circulation. For this brat to manage even a rudimentary control after one night—well, it left Jiang Yingying rather displeased. When her own father praised her as a rare talent, it had still taken her nearly five days to circulate her pulse force through her whole body.

Could this foolish boy actually be a cultivation prodigy?

With a blank expression, Jiang Yingying replied coolly, “Only someone as dull as you would need an entire night. Even the rooster crowing at the gate, if it had your star source, would circulate its pulse force three times in that span. Why are you so pleased over just once?”

Su Mu only grinned foolishly, unaffected by her sarcasm; the surging pulse force had opened a new world to him.

Jiang Yingying strode to the center table and, without ceremony, picked up the nourishing chicken soup Su Mu’s mother had just brought him and began to drink. Su Mu stared, then hurriedly protested, “Sister Yingying, that’s mine!”

She rolled her eyes and snapped, “Stop whining and get back to training. Tell the servants to bring two more bowls. I’m not full.”

Cloudrise Peak nestled within Fragrant Red Mountain, a place long said to be favored by immortals. Legends abounded, with many swearing to have seen immortals here—chasing stars, riding clouds.

An Yusheng gazed up at Cloudrise Peak, seeing mountains wrapped in mist, the occasional slender silhouette emerging—mysterious beyond compare.

Standing at the mountain’s foot, a thousand thoughts surged within An Yusheng. The first time he’d seen Red Fragrance Mountain’s clustered peaks, he’d been a youth. Now, in a blink, he was the father of a thirteen-year-old. He remembered the thrill of cultivating at Shanghui Sect, then recalled his slow progress at the sect’s tournament, losing all seven matches and being expelled. Afterwards, he’d descended the mountain, relying on his unusual skills to carve a place among mortals.

Now, as a castoff disciple, he was to set foot on Red Fragrance Mountain again. His body trembled—he still could not let go.

Shanghui Sect occupied the entire Red Fragrance Mountain, with its grounds set upon the grandest peak, Jade Purity Summit. The mountain boasted over seventy peaks, famed as “Eight Thousand Fathoms of Red Fragrance, Seventy-Two Emerald Peaks.” To encourage cultivation, the sect gifted the lesser peaks to outstanding disciples for their training.

Cloudrise Peak was above average among them, a testament to his senior sister’s standing in the sect.

Though An Yusheng’s cultivation was modest, he had awakened his star source; with pulse force coursing through him, he climbed like a mountain monkey. Near the summit, he found a secluded courtyard. Seeing a group of people by the gate, he stopped.

On seeing An Yusheng, they greeted him. The leader hurried over, saying, “Master, your pace is quick! We only arrived last evening ourselves.”

An Yusheng frowned. “What’s this? You spent the night here without going in?”

The speaker was Zhao Kang, the An family’s steward, who looked quite haggard after days of travel and little rest.

“Master, we are mere mortals and dare not sully a place of immortal cultivation. We conveyed your message—those inside said you must deliver it yourself.”

Suppressing his anger, An Yusheng strode toward the courtyard. But after only a few steps, seven or eight yellow-robed maidens blocked his way. One of them spoke, “Fairy Li is in secluded cultivation. She cannot be disturbed. Please rest in the guest rooms for a few days; you will be notified when she emerges.”

An Yusheng had no time to waste. Stepping forward, he called, “Is this how my senior sister receives guests? If she is so secluded, I’ll take my divine manual to other peaks—surely some other disciples not in seclusion will see me.”

He waited a while longer, but no one responded from within. The yellow-robed girls remained, barring his way. Fuming, An Yusheng turned and left, considering whom he might approach for help.

Just as he was about to leave the courtyard, a voice called out, “Let him in.”

The maidens quickly made way, bowing before retreating. An Yusheng snorted and continued to the inner courtyard.

“Senior sister, I may no longer be of Shanghui Sect, but our bond remains. Must you make things so difficult for my men?” he called toward the central pavilion.

The doors swung open, and a clear, melodious female voice beckoned, “It’s windy outside. Come in and speak.”

Entering, An Yusheng found the pavilion spotless, almost ascetic. The furnishings were sparse: a Daoist statue at the center, a simple prayer mat before it, two crane-shaped censers exhaling calming incense.

Two wide jade screens concealed the rear. Painted upon them were scenes of Red Fragrance Mountain, magnificent yet detailed—a vivid depiction of spring rain upon the mountains.

As An Yusheng entered, a screen was drawn back by two yellow-robed girls, revealing the chamber beyond: at its center, a purple sandalwood desk with stone inlay, several inkstones, unfinished paintings weighed down by paperweights, and a sea of calligraphy brushes. The walls were adorned with ink wash landscapes and figures. On the left, a purple sandalwood shelf was stacked neatly with books, exuding scholarly ambiance.

From behind a gauzy curtain, a woman emerged. At first glance, she seemed in her thirties; on closer inspection, perhaps only seventeen or eighteen. She wore a floor-length white skirt embroidered with plum blossoms, over which hung a pale pink veil. Her jet-black hair was tied with a white sash, a delicate golden phoenix-and-butterfly hairpin nestled within. Her skin, glimpsed at the wrist, was as creamy as jade, and her breath as fragrant as orchids.

Her face was flawless—a pair of luminous eyes, cheeks lightly rouged, long fine brows, as if painted. Only a single black mole at the corner of her mouth marred her perfection.

She held a painting in her hands. On seeing An Yusheng, she smiled faintly and pointed to a stone stool by the table. “Why not sit? After so many years, must we be so formal?”

An Yusheng, unceremonious, swept aside his robe and sat on the lone stool. “Senior sister, after all these years, you’re still unrivaled in beauty. It’s as though you haven’t aged a day.”

The woman smiled, unrolling the scroll in her hands. “This face will age in the end—morning bloom, snow at the temples—it passes in a blink. Are such things still important to you?”

An Yusheng replied, “My own cultivation has stagnated for years, while you’ve soared far beyond me. Our realms are different; you can hardly blame me.”

She waved his words aside. “Come, look at this painting.”

He leaned in. The painting showed a young man shielding a girl behind him, confronting a grotesque one-horned monster poised to attack. The figures and beast alike were vivid, the artistry remarkable.

At the sight, An Yusheng’s expression changed. “What does this mean? I can’t make sense of it.”

The woman’s smile deepened. “Had you not shielded me back then, that beast would never have pierced your star source, reducing three stars to two. Your pulse force fell behind the others, and only then were you cast out. I’ve never forgotten.”

An Yusheng bowed deeply. “Senior sister, what use dredging up the past? I’m here for the sake of my daughter…”

She raised a hand to silence him. Startled, An Yusheng stepped back in anger. “What is the meaning of this?”

She turned back to her painting. “Every time I unroll this scroll, I think of you. Had you not left the sect, we’d have been a match made in heaven. Not long after you departed, I heard you’d married. You can’t know how I razed this very courtyard to the ground in my grief—the one you see now is newly built.”

He fell silent. She continued, “Later, I learned your wife bore you a daughter. I knew then there was no hope for us, and buried my feelings deep inside.”

An Yusheng sat quietly by her side for a long while before speaking softly, “I’ve long been grateful for your affections. The Jade Dragon Transformation Manual—was it you who had Brother Mu deliver it to me, or did you spread word of it yourself?”

“That manual, and the Celestial Bat Swallows the Moon technique, are but fragments transcribed by Master Tiangang. He scattered real and false copies alike. Over the years, four or five have surfaced. The more you cling to that incomplete text, the deeper your troubles grow. I spread those rumors to persuade you to give it up. Haven’t you noticed that no true experts have come for you? Who would covet such useless scraps?”

She gave a dismissive snort, utterly contemptuous of the so-called divine manual.

Hearing this, An Yusheng nearly toppled over, as if struck by lightning. He murmured, “Impossible…impossible…Did Tong’er die for nothing, then? All these years spent hiding—what was it for?”

The woman gently stroked his hair. “Now that you’ve come, it’s enough. I have a way to restore your star source. You and I could be together yet.”

Suddenly, An Yusheng broke down in pained sobs. She said nothing, simply sitting beside him. After a long while, he raised his head and asked in a low voice, “If you care nothing for my divine manual, may I at least beg you to save my daughter?” With that, he knelt heavily on the floor.

She regarded him coldly in silence. At last, she spoke: “Stay with me. Turn your back on the world below, and I will make an exception—just this once—for your daughter.”