Chapter Seventy-Four: The Path is Found

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Stars and moon straddled the heavens.

It was nearly summer; the air shimmered with restless heat.

An endless sea of verdant trees stood in silent grandeur, collecting the moon’s silvery dew.

Suddenly—

A ripple disturbed the tranquil blue-green expanse of the sea.

The earth trembled violently, accompanied by a deafening roar.

Far in the distance, atop the continuous chain of mountains, two massive, imposing figures appeared. Horns crowned their heads; their skin was dark as indigo. Great strands of blood-red and black prayer beads hung from their necks, and each carried on his shoulder a palanquin crafted from thousand-year-old black dragonwood.

These two giants, bearing their burden, leapt hundreds of meters at a time, striding swiftly through the rugged mountains.

Before long, at the horizon’s edge, there emerged a small, unremarkable county town.

A gentle breeze stirred.

The white gauze draped over the palanquin fluttered up, revealing the curve of lips red as blood, slowly curling into a smile.

…

“Young master, something’s happened!”

Even before he entered the inner courtyard, Sun Yueting’s booming voice carried through five walls, reaching Song Tingye’s ears.

Song Tingye was resting with his eyes closed, a calico cat nestled in his arms.

“Such panic—how unseemly.”

He opened his eyes a fraction, gazing at the alarmed face of Sun Yueting. Gently setting the cat down, he shook out his sleeves and stood.

“What could have you in such a state? Has a demon appeared?”

“It’s even worse than that.” Sun Yueting swallowed hard.

“Oh? What is it, then?” A flicker of curiosity crossed Song Tingye’s face as he lifted his teacup.

“The eldest lady is here!”

Crash—

The teacup fell, shattering to pieces.

The finest Qingyu tea now only washed the floor.

“Block for me, I’m leaving.”

Song Tingye regained his composure in an instant, heading for the door.

If that fiendish woman discovers I mean to arrange her marriage, she’ll peel the skin from my bones.

“Leaving? Little Ye, are you so eager to avoid your sister?”

He had not yet crossed the threshold before a fair, slender, snow-white arm landed on his shoulder.

As if struck by lightning, Song Tingye froze.

Goosebumps erupted over his body. He managed a stiff smile and turned his head:

“Sister.”

“Good boy~”

Jia Yufei seized Song Tingye by the hair, dragging her dear little brother back to the chair as he stifled a cry.

“Miss, you…” Sun Yueting began hesitantly, glancing at Song Tingye’s sorry state.

“Out.”

“Right away!”

In an instant, everyone inside and outside the room scattered like startled birds—vanishing without a trace.

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The vast inner court was left with only Song Tingye and Jia Yufei.

Dangling two fair, shapely, long legs, Jia Yufei wore a soft, crimson silk blouse exuding a captivating fragrance. Red embroidered shoes adorned her feet, a band of carnelian wrapped around her ankle.

She reached out, gently smoothing Song Tingye’s disheveled hair, her smile soft and dimpled, eyes curving like crescent moons—serene, sweet, and beautiful.

“I hear you intend to marry me off?”

“How did you know? Have you planted spies around me?”

Song Tingye’s face darkened as he brushed her hand away, eyes flashing cold.

With a sharp flick to his forehead, Jia Yufei waggled her finger:

“Don’t try to turn the tables on me.

I’ve planted spies around all of you. What, do you have a problem with that?”

Seeing he’d been exposed, Song Tingye knew further evasion was useless.

He sat up straight, speaking with righteous indignation:

“Sister, don’t make trouble. Finding you a husband is an order from Mother herself.

Do you really want to defy her?”

“Oh, my dear magistrate.

You’ve only been in office a few days and already the power’s gone to your head—using Mother to pressure me?”

She patted his cheeks, her smile unwavering, but a chill glinted in her eyes:

“Careful, or I’ll turn you into a girl and find you a husband too.”

Song Tingye immediately squeezed his legs together and sprang up:

“Jia Yufei, don’t be ridiculous!

The husband I’ve found for you is a good man.

He’s extraordinarily gifted, practices a fierce and powerful cultivation art, and his strength rivals those who have entered the Dao.

With his talent, if he joins our family, I guarantee he’ll break through to the Dao within three years.

And he’s indifferent to worldly affairs, focused solely on cultivation—marry him, and you’ll both have your freedom. Isn’t that ideal?”

As Song Tingye listed the potential suitor’s merits like precious treasures, Jia Yufei rested her chin in her hand, fingers twirling a lock of hair:

“Seems I’ve wronged you, little Ye. You really do have your sister’s best interests at heart.”

Hearing her tone soften, Song Tingye let out a silent sigh of relief.

Finally, she’s buying it.

Jia Yufei stood and seized his arm, dragging him toward the door:

“You make him sound so impressive—I’m curious now.

Come, take me to see him.

If he’s as you say, perhaps I’ll consider getting to know him.

But if you’ve lied…”

Her smile was bright, but her voice was light as a threat.

“…then I’ll be gaining a little sister.”

“Sister! He’s in seclusion right now—it’s not a good time to disturb him.” Song Tingye leaned back, resisting with all his might.

“It’s just a meeting, nothing more.”

Dragging Song Tingye along, Jia Yufei’s smile was as gentle as a neighborly older sister, even as she carved a furrow in the ground.

…

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At the entrance to the Qi family residence.

After their recent collaboration, Song Tingye had learned Qi Xiu’s address.

Now, standing before this utterly ordinary gate, he regretted ever having learned it.

“This is the place?”

Jia Yufei’s eyes sparkled as she took in the battered, ancient doors, reaching out to push them open.

But before she could, a noisy argument drifted out.

“No, no! Yang is the basis of the body; to use yin to control yang is to forsake the root for the branch.

Cultivating like that is a straight path to becoming a vengeful spirit.”

“I think yang should remain supreme, governing all methods, holding the center.”

“Hmm, there’s some sense in that.

But by that logic, it might be better to abandon all magical arts and focus solely on inner energy—take that path to the extreme.

Perhaps that’s the way to break the impasse.”

“Too much yang breaks easily; if the yang is too strong, it’s like a furnace, scorching the soul.

That kind of extremity is like boiling a frog in warm water—over time, the soul withers, leaving behind a powerful but mindless shell.

That won’t do.”

Outside, as the fevered, neurotic muttering grew more intense, Jia Yufei glanced at Song Tingye’s increasingly pale face.

“Exceptionally talented, three years to enter the Dao, you said?”

With a bang, she pushed open the door.

Inside the litter-strewn courtyard, a man with tangled hair and a trailing robe paced back and forth, most of his face hidden behind lank locks.

The sound of the door breaking his concentration, the man scowled in annoyance.

“Who let you in? Get out, get out!”

“How dare you!”

Unfamiliar with the intruder, Jia Yufei’s expression chilled. In a flash, she was before him, arm raised for a strike.

“Wait—” Song Tingye frowned, about to intervene.

Jia Yufei’s slender hand shimmered with a blue aura.

A terrifying pressure crashed down; the man’s hair blew back, revealing a refined face, while the ground beneath his feet sank several inches.

If that palm descended, it would crush him utterly.

Yet as the hand of death hovered above, the man’s weary, muddled eyes suddenly sparked with clarity.

In his mind, the tangled mass of knowledge, knotted like a skein of yarn, found its end.

That flash of insight—

It was the thread that unraveled the knot!

In that instant,

A surge of violet energy rose from his dantian; a stream of green flowed from his brow.

The two forces met in perfect harmony at his chest.

His eyes blazed with brilliant light.

Qi Xiu trembled, and spoke three words:

“I’ve found it!”

…