Chapter 22: The Celestial Sweep of the Jade of Pristine Ice

The houses and various small buildings on either side vanished swiftly from Sumu’s sight as he raced through the streets. He bit his lip hard; the energy coursing through his veins was nearly depleted. Ahead lay the northern gate of Youma County—a deep crimson portal studded with visible rivets. Sumu clutched his bundle tightly. When fleeing, he’d first gone to the inn to retrieve his belongings, and that brief delay allowed the pursuing soldiers to track him by the trail of blood he left behind. Forced, Sumu had leapt onto rooftops, stopping and starting, skirting the shortest route to avoid them and taking the long way around.

At some point, torches had been lit throughout the city, illuminating the modest expanse of Youma County. Amid the scattered lights, it was impossible to tell how many people there were. Sumu saw it and panic gripped his heart; he feared being captured, he feared the bundle entrusted to him by Jiang Yingying would fall into the hands of these villains. Yet he had no strength left, and could only think of escaping the city somehow. The city was too small, too perilous.

Peering from the shadows near the city gate, Sumu’s face was ghastly pale under the moonlight, drained of all color. His lips were cracked; his face bore streaks of red and black—blood and dirt mingling in a mess that made him look utterly wretched.

“How am I supposed to get through such a heavy gate?”

Sumu gazed at the city gate, fear gnawing at his heart. He had almost no energy left to sustain himself; relying solely on his frail body, he could only stagger and run. The towering city walls and gate seemed an insurmountable barrier, and despair washed over him.

Just as Sumu was lost in uncertainty, the city gate suddenly rumbled, and several guards hurriedly opened the tightly shut doors.

A host of soldiers, dressed in official attire and bearing torches, appeared from nowhere, assembling in front of the gate in neat rows. Sumu finally understood why there were so many torches; he’d thought it a sign of the villains’ influence and numbers, but they were all lit by these soldiers.

After the gate opened, Sumu saw that many soldiers stood outside as well, lined up in perfect formation. Their leader was fully armored, clad in military garb, a long sword hanging at his waist; yet he was too far for Sumu to see his features clearly.

“Now that you’re here, line up quickly—stand sharp! Don’t let Lord Ji see you make a fool of yourselves,” the officer barked in a booming voice. The soldiers answered in unison, “Yes, sir!” The sound of shuffling feet followed, and in moments, two squads merged into one, standing quietly facing north, as if awaiting someone.

Sumu’s heart sank. He couldn’t escape before, and now, with over two hundred soldiers present, fleeing under their watchful eyes was unthinkable—a disaster upon disaster.

Sumu’s impression of soldiers was shaped by those guards who had shown utter deference to the black-clad men when he entered the city. He saw them as cut from the same cloth, so he dared not step out. If caught and handed over to the villains, it would be a self-made trap.

Black Hunter, tracking Sumu’s trail with his followers, arrived at the city gate with great fanfare. He was startled to see the soldiers lined up so neatly. The officer also noticed Black Hunter and his dozens of black-clad men, saw the bloodstains—Jiang Yingying’s and Sumu’s—on Black Hunter's hands and body, and frowned, calling out loudly:

“Lord Black Hunter, we respect the might of Pinglong Fortress and its esteemed lords, and permit you to act as you wish in the city. But tonight, we expect honored guests. I ask that you and your men leave at once. If you disturb our guests, it will not bode well for either of us.”

Black Hunter sniffed repeatedly at the gate but detected no scent of blood—clearly the boy had not escaped this way. He turned irritably to the officer. “You’re so verbose. I don’t care who you’re welcoming. Tell me, did a child pass through here?”

The officer’s face flushed blue and red with anger, but he dared not lash out. He forced out, “No!”

Black Hunter snorted disdainfully and turned to resume his search inside the city. The assembled troops posed no threat to him; to a lion, no number of sheep matters. His only concern was whether the boy, before dying, had hidden the item somewhere—he’d need to search further.

From his hiding place, Sumu suddenly heard strange music, distant yet near—zither, lute, flute, pipes. The sounds drifted into his heart like fine threads, making his body go limp. All he wanted was to close his eyes, lie down, and listen quietly; nothing else seemed to matter.

Black Hunter’s face showed a yearning, enchanted expression, but he quickly shook his head to clear it, alarmed at the power of the music. Even someone of his cultivation could be affected. He glanced around and saw that everyone, even the soldiers, had their eyes closed, lost in delight. Black Hunter secretly summoned his energy, fearing an ambush.

In the deep night, only the lanterns on the city walls and the torches at the gate provided light. Beyond the walls, all was pitch-black. Suddenly, a distant light streaked across the sky, flying swiftly from the horizon—anyone unfamiliar might mistake it for a meteor.

The light grew brighter, and the music swelled. The beam descended rapidly to the city gate, and as it came to a halt, the music faded.

When the music ceased, everyone saw a dazzling carriage hovering quietly before them. Its elegant lines shone through a pure white glow; the carriage was draped in unknown, fluorescent gauze, dotted with sparkling lights, like a river of stars.

Outside the carriage, pale blue crystals were set, complementing intricate carvings to form a masterpiece of dazzling beauty. The most astonishing sight was the three animals pulling the carriage—creatures resembling horses, but wholly transparent like ice sculptures, wings adorning their backs, a single crystalline horn on their foreheads; from afar, they appeared noble beyond compare.

The carriage hovered silently above the crowd. In the front sat two girls, strikingly similar in appearance, clad in white water skirts. Each held an instrument—a zither and a pipa. Smiling down at the crowd, they plucked their strings lightly, letting clear, melodious notes drift down. Clearly, most of the earlier music had come from these two, though the origins of the other sounds remained a mystery.

Two figures slowly stood inside the carriage. One leapt out, and before landing, burst into hearty laughter.

“This journey to Jinxue Palace has been fruitful indeed. Thanks to Fairy Wanyun’s generous hospitality, I’ve gained much. Even as I depart, Young Lord Wen sends me off in this sacred carriage. It’s overwhelming. I’m a simple man; hearing these harmonies, and Young Lord Wen’s mystical jade flute, I feel refined already, ha ha!”

“A fine melody for a kindred spirit. This piece, ‘Dreaming Under the Moon,’ is meant for Master Ji alone. Is it for these ignorant mortals below? Such ordinary folk cannot fathom its subtleties—indeed, their vulgarity may taint this music,”

came another voice, cool and detached, indifferent to how others might react, as if such words were only natural. With that, the speaker drew aside the starlit curtain and stepped out.

Everyone gazed at the newcomer, feeling that even standing still, he radiated calm and elegance. His blue-white robe could not hide his tall frame; his features were chiseled and handsome, eyes sharp beneath sword-like brows, hair tied back, flowing down his back. He stood there, drawing all eyes—there seemed no room in the world for anyone else.

The man who had jumped down clasped his fists and bowed to him, laughing. “Thank you again, Young Lord Wen. I’ve arrived. The road is long and arduous; take care on your return, and give my regards to your master.”

“Certainly. Master Ji, take care. Wen Yuge will watch you enter the city before departing.”

Master Ji turned, revealing a sturdy man who, despite calling himself “old,” showed no signs of age—hair and beard were black, his face rugged and weathered, marked by the passage of years. His determined gaze was hard to meet.

The officer, who had waited anxiously, hurried over and saluted. “Lord Ji, I am chief of Youma County’s city guards—” but Ji raised a hand, cutting him off, displeased. Walking ahead, he said, “I am merely notifying you that I’ll rest here tonight. Do you think this grand show is for me to be laughed at? How embarrassing.”

“My apologies, sir. I’ll dismiss the men at once. Please, this way.” The officer hurriedly led Master Ji toward the city. At the gate, Ji turned and bowed to Wen Yuge in the sky, waving farewell. Wen Yuge returned the gesture, then instructed the two girls to turn the carriage around.

From afar, Sumu watched these godlike figures, his heart surging. Surely such a noble man was not allied with the villains who harmed Jiang Yingying; only by seeking help from this lord could Sumu hope to survive. With this thought, he ignored the crowd and ran toward the city gate, shouting, “Help!”

Black Hunter, seeing the sacred carriage’s arrival, had quietly prepared to withdraw. He knew well the carriage’s reputation—the famed “Eight Hundred Towers of Jinxue Palace, Starry Skies of Jade and Ice,” referred to this sacred vehicle and symbolized the legendary Jinxue Palace. Even Black Hunter dared not provoke it.

At that moment, Sumu burst out, shouting for help, startling Black Hunter. He hadn’t expected the boy to be hiding here all along. Seeing Sumu escape, Black Hunter panicked, immediately lunging toward him.

Master Ji paused in surprise at the cry for help, then saw Sumu, blood and mud covering his body, running toward him. Sumu looked like a little demon, as if he’d been hauled from a pool of blood and filth—enough to make one retch. Ji instinctively stepped aside.

Sumu’s body had reached its limit; even the short distance of a hundred meters left him gasping. His wounds, once staunched, reopened—especially the thigh gash, which had never healed, only held together by energy. Now depleted, the old wound reopened, blood streaming down his trousers, leaving a long trail.

“Where do you think you’re going, boy? Die!” Black Hunter’s claws struck at Sumu like lightning, determined to kill him before he could seek help.

Sumu was powerless to resist; he thought his death was imminent, filled only with regret for failing Jiang Yingying’s trust.

As Sumu closed his eyes, awaiting death, a silver light suddenly flashed before him—a yard-long block of solid ice appeared, blocking Black Hunter’s lethal strike.