Chapter 309
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Chai Feng was puzzled and asked: “What does that have to do with my temperament?”
Bai Yonggui ignored him and continued: “That Third Young Master of the Tan family, after a few meetings, grew familiar with our shopkeeper. And wouldn’t you know it, our shopkeeper just so happens to have a cousin—one as beautiful as a flower, well-read and well-mannered, and quite the connoisseur of jade. Now tell me, how could that Tan family’s Third Young Master possibly resist such a trap?”
“Though the Third Young Master isn’t one to indulge in women, the allure of a confidante, a lady who adds fragrance to one’s sleeves, is always tempting. As the saying goes, in a man’s life, having a single true confidant is enough. And if that confidant is a beautiful woman? All the more precious! That Tan fellow thought he’d struck heaven’s favor, believing he’d met someone who truly understood him. From being constantly guarded at first, he eventually poured out everything without reserve—he almost even confessed how he used to wet the bed at three years old.”
“Unfortunately, this Third Young Master is one of the lesser disciples of the Tan family. There’s still the First and Second Young Masters above him—both exceptional talents of their time. Even so, the limited information he provided was enough for our Sect Master to glean several useful details. Never mind the matter of the Tan family obtaining the sheepskin scroll—that had to be reported—but who would’ve guessed the scroll was hidden on Tan Wen and Tan Wu? Those two are merely from a collateral branch of the Tan family. When the Tan clan was wiped out, they escaped purely by chance. While others thought the scroll was lost to the flames, becoming an unsolvable mystery, only our Sect Master knew the truth. These past years, we’ve been tirelessly tracking Tan Wen and Tan Wu because of it.”
“And what does that show? It shows that in this world of the strong devouring the weak, there is no such thing as ‘trust.’ Even someone you see as a close companion could betray you for the sake of profit—or perhaps they approached you with ill intent from the very start. That Third Young Master still doesn’t know to this day that he was merely a contingency left behind by the Sect Master. He thinks he was saved by a fair lady’s helping hand, never realizing it was all part of someone else’s plan.”
Chai Feng gave a bitter smile and said: “Perhaps it’s better not to know. Living in a world arranged by others might actually lead to a better life.”
“And you? Brother Chai, you’re still planning to scrape by in the martial world?”
Bai Yonggui said sarcastically.
Chai Feng forced a smile. “I know Brother Bai means well. But a leopard can’t change its spots. Maybe this is just my fate in this lifetime. Thank you for the advice. I’ll go get some rest now—the ship’s about to dock.” With that, he cupped his hands in farewell and left the cabin.
Bai Yonggui waited until he reached the door before saying: “As for that youth—whether to silence him or capture him alive—it’s no longer our decision. We’ll have to wait and see what the two Elders say once we dock.”
Chai Feng shrugged when he heard this. He said nothing and continued on his way.
Zhang Xiaohua, seeing that the conversation had ended and everyone had left, quietly slipped back into the cabin. At first, he had loathed Bai Yonggui with a passion, planning to take his life with a single sword stroke once they made landfall. But after hearing those heartfelt words spoken to Chai Feng, a sliver of compassion stirred within him.
“From their perspective, silencing me might be the most logical course of action. If I were to spread word that they had acquired the sheepskin scroll, their so-called Xinrong Sect might very well end up just like the Tan family—completely wiped out!”
Zhang Xiaohua pondered quietly to himself. Suddenly, a thought stirred in his heart: “Could it be that I, too, am someone indecisive and soft-hearted? Am I also unfit to survive in the martial world?”
He drew a small sword from his bosom. The little sword danced lightly through the air before flying straight out the window, soaring into the clouds. A smile tugged at Zhang Xiaohua’s lips as he muttered to himself: “Maybe so!”
This night was destined to be a tranquil one. The sea was calm, the moonlight bright and clear. Under the sweep of Zhang Xiaohua’s divine sense, the entire ship was utterly quiet. The sailors went about their tasks in silence, while the disciples of the Xinrong Sect all sat cross-legged in meditation, adjusting their breath. Only a few idle, elderly sailors, drunk from the night’s wine, leaned against the rails and hummed nameless folk tunes laced with homesickness.
Zhang Xiaohua knew this would be his last night upon the sea. Although it appeared that Bai Yonggui and the others would not make a move against him tonight, he dared not grow careless. With utmost caution, he laid down a series of intricate restrictions around himself before finally feeling secure enough to sit down and cultivate with his eyes closed.
Thanks to the recent days of diligent practice, Zhang Xiaohua had grown quite adept at setting up these restriction formations—he could now deploy them smoothly and fluidly in a single breath. In truth, he had already learned these formations back on the deserted island and had practiced them freely within the mountain cave. Back then, they had felt effortless to cast, which led him to believe he had already mastered them. But now, in this unfamiliar ship’s cabin, he realized things weren’t quite so simple after all.
“Perhaps it was because the Yuan Qi within the cave was more abundant, making it easier to set up the restrictions. But out here on the great sea, the Yuan Qi of Heaven and Earth is far more sparse. Relying solely on the Qi flowing through my own meridians is a strain. Drawing Qi from Yuan Stones isn’t as smooth or responsive as channeling the natural Yuan Qi either. As the saying goes: ‘Practice is the sole criterion for testing truth!’ — how very true that is. Thankfully, I’ve been deeply studying restriction arts all this time, which is why I can still set up formations even under such difficult conditions. And it is precisely through these hardships that my understanding of restrictions has grown even deeper.”
“Each drop of sweat brings a corresponding harvest. The ancients never lied.”
With such thoughts in his heart, Zhang Xiaohua felt a quiet satisfaction as he drifted into sleep.
Thanks to Bai Yonggui’s instruction, the ship sailed directly toward the shore. As the sky began to brighten with the first light of dawn, the faint outline of the coastline had already appeared in the distance.
Of course, it was only a silhouette—but to Zhang Xiaohua, that shadow symbolized hope. It meant he was one step closer to being reunited with his family.
Naturally, with the experience he had gained during this voyage, Zhang Xiaohua also knew full well: although the coastline appeared close, actually reaching the shore might still take some time.
Perhaps Zhang Xiaohua was the only one eager to return home. Within his divine sense, the disciples of the Xinrong Sect all sat silently in meditation, nourishing their True Qi. Clearly, they were preparing themselves—once the ship docked, a brutal battle awaited them. A battle in which they had little confidence of survival. Though their opponent was but a seemingly ordinary youth, who could say whether, in the frenzy of a trapped beast, he wouldn’t drag someone down with him?
Watching their solemn, grave demeanor, Zhang Xiaohua felt an unexpected amusement rise in his heart—along with a faint sense of superiority. His heart stirred. “Could this be the feeling of standing above others?”
“Yes, this is a sense of complete assurance, of everything being within one’s grasp. Or perhaps it’s that detached clarity—where none of these things seem to concern you at all. They fear me, and are exhausting themselves trying to control me. And me? I see their efforts as mere trifles. What they see as treacherous paths, I walk as smooth roads. Even the experts they’ve brought along—I pay them no mind. To be wholly within the game, yet still outside of it, this feeling is truly wondrous.”
With that realization, Zhang Xiaohua experienced a moment of insight. He stopped practicing the Big Dipper Divine Fist and did not remove the restriction formations around him. Instead, he closed his eyes and began to meditate deeply on this new understanding. He now realized that such insights into mental state were even more valuable than insights into the Heart Sutra. The Heart Sutra could be cultivated step by step, according to method. But mental comprehension—it came unexpectedly, unpredictably.
Fortunately, with the ship soon to make landfall, the disciples of the Xinrong Sect were eager to spend the final leg of their journey in peace. No one dared disturb Zhang Xiaohua. Even the sailor who brought his meals, after knocking on the cabin door for a long time without response, simply left the food outside and walked away. It seemed he, too, had received specific instructions.
However, by evening—when the port was already visible and the ship nearly docked—Zhang Xiaohua’s door still remained shut. The sailor began to grow anxious and quickly reported the matter to Junior Brother Li. He, too, was puzzled. Although Zhang Xiaohua usually kept his door tightly closed, he had never failed to take in his meals. Now, on the very eve of landfall, could something truly have gone wrong?
Naturally, he dared not be negligent. He hurried to consult with Bai Yonggui. Throughout this return voyage, Zhang Xiaohua had been like a thorn in their side—untouchable, yet impossible to ignore. They had finally managed to persuade their Sect Leader to send a true expert to deal with him. If Zhang Xiaohua were to vanish now, and they failed to produce him at the critical moment, they might find themselves with nothing to show for their trouble—perhaps even punished equally for failure.
Thankfully, Bai Yonggui was a cautious man. After hearing the report, he didn’t rush off to investigate in person. Instead, he first questioned the sailor about the events of the previous night. Once he learned that no ships had passed nearby, he relaxed a little. Smiling, he said to the others: “Since no vessels came near last night, the boy must still be inside his cabin. He’s always holed up in there anyway. He’s probably already seen that we’re close to land and knows perfectly well that nothing good awaits him once we arrive. So he’s just hiding in there, racking his brains for a plan. As long as we keep a tight watch and don’t let him escape, we’ll have done our duty!”
Junior Brother Li said uneasily: “But Senior Brother Bai, if he really isn’t in the cabin, what will we do once we reach the port and can’t produce him?”
“Heh, that’s simple. Then let me assign you a task, Junior Brother—why don’t you personally go and invite our young friend out from his cabin?”
“Me? Uh… well… I—I also agree with Brother Bai’s thinking. The sea is vast, and no ships came close. No matter how skilled he is in Qinggong, he can’t fly across the ocean. He must still be inside, scratching his head.”
The others laughed quietly to themselves. Clearly, they all shared the same thoughts.
Bai Yonggui beckoned to the sailor and said: “Go back to the cabin door and keep watch. Be alert. Also, find someone to watch from the deck above—keep an eye on the window. If anything strange happens, report to me immediately.”
“This…” The sailor, seeing that no one else wanted the task, felt a flicker of fear himself.
“It’s fine. He won’t trouble someone like you. Go on.”
Chai Feng sighed and said. The sailor dared not object and nervously made his way back.
Bai Yonggui waved his hand and said: “Everyone, we’re almost ashore. Let’s take our positions as we discussed. Before this ship touches land, we must keep a tight watch. Once we’ve docked—heh heh…”
Hearing this, the crowd’s expressions turned solemn. No one dared be careless. Each of them picked up their longswords and quickly headed to their assigned spots.
The port drew ever nearer. Evening shadows deepened. In the growing dusk, the barren shoreline looked particularly desolate. Yet tonight was different—there were already several figures standing by the shore, craning their necks, silently waiting.
