Chapter 33
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Chapter 33
This wait lasted half a year.
She had been captured deep within the cave at the end of August, and by February of the new year, she still hadn’t escaped.
During that time, longing for home, Gong Wu risked a journey back once during the New Year.
She split a tiny fragment of her divine consciousness and attached it to a pink and white butterfly, which was escorted back home by a fox.
Master Ji Qing seemed to wait for a long time at the valley entrance, and when he saw the butterfly, he waved his long sleeve, summoning a gust of wind to hide it in his palm.
As they passed through the cave, her divine consciousness attached itself to one of Master’s buttons.
The butterfly fluttered away, but before it could leave the valley, a wild beast swallowed it whole.
During the New Year season, Tianhua Palace was quiet and empty, with only Tu Xuixin guarding the vast courtyard.
Outer palace disciples helped carry the seasonal fruits back into the hall, and during the New Year’s feast, many fellow disciples and family members came to toast with him.
Everyone knew where his sorrow lay, and they repeatedly assured him that next year they would reunite and things would surely improve.
Gong Wu, attached to Master’s button, saw through his eyes all the familiar and cherished things around her. For a moment, she wished she could offer him a cup of warm wine.
Just wait a little longer.
Senior brother and I will definitely come back.
After the New Year’s feast, Tu Xuixin, feigning intoxication, slipped away with two pieces of dried fish to enjoy the cool breeze outside.
Two little foxes awaited in the herb forest, each snatching a piece of fish with their mouths.
Gong Wu, returning to the dried fish, gazed from afar at her master.
“Take good care of yourself,” Tu Xuixin murmured with a soft sigh. “I didn’t have time to prepare a red envelope for the New Year; I’ll make it up to you later.”
The two little foxes flicked their tails and scampered off one after the other.
Over the past few months, Master had been discreetly seeking information about Ji Yang’s whereabouts through various channels.
Indeed, there were reports of a young Daoist spotted in the Demon Realm, seemingly lost and inadvertently entering the area. He valiantly fought off a multitude of foes single-handedly.
However, he subsequently vanished without a trace, and despite several searches by the Demon Realm’s inhabitants, he was gradually forgotten.
—Given the perilous nature of that place, it’s probable that he has already perished by now.
Yet, both Master and disciple clung to hope, persistently seeking new avenues to bring him back.
Meanwhile, the Eye Serpent Plague had indeed spread to the fringes of the Central Plains. Reports indicated that the capital was now on high alert, with no signs of an outbreak yet.
However, in the vicinity of Ba Jing Tower, there were already a few sporadic cases, and the symptoms were evolving.
Previously, the plague manifested as pustules and red sores on the hands, which then snaked up to the neck, culminating in the appearance of eyes at the back of the neck.
Yet, several disciples from Ba Jing Tower began exhibiting symptoms at their ankles, which then ascended to the back of their heads before they succumbed.
The disease’s progression was slower but more severe and devastating.
If patients in the far south were reduced to mere skin and bones, those in the north were left as paper-thin white skeletons, as if all their flesh and blood had been drained before the disease ceased!
Promptly, all major Immortal Sects heightened their vigilance, requiring any visitors to undress and undergo symptom checks in private rooms to prevent the introduction of diseases.
The Demon Realm remained rampant and untamed; that ancient entity had celebrated several birthdays in the past half-year. It was rumored that even Bao Pu Mansion had suffered, with several treasured heirlooms stolen by denizens of Bone Abyss!
At this critical juncture, Hu Fengyu prepared to depart.
Having rested for several months, his health and spirit had visibly improved. He chose an auspicious day to don a deep, dark robe and summoned Gong Wu to accompany him.
“Let’s go, we’re leaving this place.”
Gong Wu, having spent several months in Mysterious Void Cave, found the words unfamiliar.
“Are you certain?”
“Do you wish to linger a few more days?” The Fox Ancestor rested his head and closed his eyes, remarking, “If not for the need to heal, I would have fled this accursed place the very day I awoke.”
Two centuries ago, he had been imprisoned here, and thousands of his descendants had sought him out, managing to erect the Nine-Tailed Flag to demarcate the boundary and establish the cave to safeguard it.
Now that the ancestor had awakened and mostly recovered, it was only fitting to return to their ancestral home.
Gong Wu understood the reasoning but still wore a somber expression.
If she returned to Rainbow Ridge with them… it would mean being even farther from the Immortal Sect.
From Fuzhou to Moonfire Valley, her divine consciousness had struggled along the way.
Rainbow Ridge lay in the northern part of Han Country, and if she were separated by distance once more… it would truly mean she could never return.
Hu Fengyu glanced sideways, and all the servants withdrew, leaving just the two of them to converse in the inner hall.
“We are not going to Rainbow Ridge.”
“Huh?”
“To the capital,” Hu Fengyu said calmly. “To retrieve my heart and regain my cultivation.”
“Once I have it back, I will personally escort you back to the valley. You won’t have to feel like you’re living under someone else’s roof anymore.”
The Fox Ancestor, though appearing pampered and delicate, possessed a mind as clear as crystal, seeing through everything with ease.
A hint of pride surfaced only in moments like this.
As for his centuries of unwavering cultivation and the fact that he had established his own sect, he kept these details hidden, maintaining an air of composure.
Gong Wu smiled bitterly. “I’m truly afraid of bringing disaster to the sect again.”
“As long as I’m here, that won’t happen,” Hu Fengyu replied lightly. “Though great kindness is hard to repay, this is something I can handle.”
“Gong Wu, the outside world doesn’t know I’ve replaced my heart, nor do they know what I’ve been doing during my two centuries of seclusion.”
He leaned slightly forward, his gaze fixed on her.
“This journey is, in fact, a big gamble.”
“A gamble that the Demon Realm will believe my cultivation is still strong, and they won’t dare to act recklessly.”
The little girl listened in astonishment, realizing this would be another perilous path.
“How will we get there?”
“By carriage.”
“How many of us?”
“On the surface, just the two of us.”
“What will my identity be?”
“My scholar,” Hu Fengyu said, looking her up and down with satisfaction. “You’ve been by my side for so long that you’re now saturated with monster energy. Even if someone from the Demon Realm were to approach, they’d assume you’re just a fox.”
Gong Wu sniffed at her sleeves and collar but detected no trace of monster energy. She stiffened. “Do I smell bad?”
The Fox Ancestor slapped the armrest of his chair. “Who told you monster energy smells bad?”
At noon that day, a pair of carriages raced from Fuzhou toward the capital.
The coachman was well-trained, and though the carriages appeared modest, they were crafted from high-quality materials, resembling those of a respectable family embarking on a long journey.
Ordinary people couldn’t make out the carriages’ outlines; all they saw was the dust kicked up along the road, with no sign of bandits daring to attack.
However, demons could sense the profound aura emanating from the Great Demon. Even the faintest whiff of it would make them wary and unwilling to provoke.
Along the way, disciples from the Hu Clan at Rainbow Ridge provided protection, ensuring that no ordinary threat could come close.
Having been imprisoned for centuries, Hu Fengyu sat in the carriage, lifting the curtain to gaze at the scenery for a long while, as if lost in a dream, reluctant to look away.
When he finally grew tired of the view, he turned to Gong Wu, who sat meditating with her eyes closed, and struck up a conversation. “You’ve never asked why I use a deer’s heart.”
“Hmm.”
Hu Fengyu looked at her, exasperated. “Can’t you chat with me for a bit?”
Gong Wu paused her breathing exercises, opened her eyes, and glanced at him. “I think it’s you who’s about to burst.”
“Keeping secrets is hard work,” the fox beauty said lazily, reclining on the couch. “It’s rare to have the chance to talk to someone from the outside. How could I let it pass?”
Gong Wu said, “Go ahead.”
“Take a guess,” he looked at her. “What made me give away my true heart?”
“Can’t you just tell me directly?”
“This journey is so dull!”
Adopting the demeanor of someone indulging an elderly relative, Gong Wu lowered her head and pondered for a moment.
“Hmm…”
Hu Fengyu noticed and wagged his finger.
“Let me sweeten the deal.”
“If you guess correctly, I’ll give you a treasure you’ll absolutely adore.”
Gong Wu, half-skeptical, asked, “Really?”
“Well, you probably won’t guess it anyway.”
Provoked by his challenge, Gong Wu took it seriously.
“First, I can rule out that it’s definitely not because of love.”
She studied his expression, growing more confident.
“You shared a deep bond with your wife and never took a concubine; it’s impossible for you to have feelings for someone else.”
“Then, it’s also unlikely to be about avoiding revenge.”
“If you could defeat him, you wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of hiding your heart, only to be tricked into a cave later.”
“If you couldn’t defeat him, you would have hidden most of your power in advance and devised a way for future generations to retrieve it and help you escape.”
After being guessed twice by Gong Wu, the Fox Ancestor flicked his tail in mild irritation.
“The little girl is quite clever,” he said, deciding to play the elder. “If it’s neither of those, then what else could it be?”
Thanks to her brother’s influence, Gong Wu had already familiarized herself with the seven feelings and six desires.
“Joy, anger, sorrow, fear, love, hatred, desire…” She counted them off on her fingers and suddenly paused. “Based on your personality, ruling out the others, it only leaves sorrow.”
Hu Fengyu raised an eyebrow, amused. “Me? Giving away my heart because of sorrow?”
“Are you out of your mind? If not, I’ll give you another chance.”
Gong Wu continued to muse to herself. “Sorrow might not fit, but pity seems quite likely.”
“That’s my final answer,” she declared, looking up. “I guess it’s because of pity.”
Hu Fengyu fell silent for a moment. “That’s absurd; think of something else.”
“If I’m wrong, I’m wrong.”
The Fox Ancestor grew slightly agitated, flicking his tail twice more, causing the luxurious couch to rustle.
“Fine. You guessed correctly.”
He propped himself up on his arms and began to recount the tale of how he came to change his heart.
“A long, long time ago, a fox was born in Rainbow Ridge. Thanks to the imperial liquid that flowed every Geng Shen year, it absorbed the essence of moonlight and awakened its spiritual intelligence.”
“This fox cultivated for five hundred years and attained a human form. During this time, he and his wife founded a great sect and lived comfortably in Rainbow Ridge, with everyone in the sect cultivating and seeking enlightenment together, free from worries about food and drink.”
“Until one day, there was a commotion in Rainbow Ridge, and an emperor’s procession arrived from afar to escort a coffin into the mausoleum.”
Gong Wu suddenly interrupted, “So Rainbow Ridge is truly a tomb?”
Hu Fengyu looked at her with a peculiar expression. “Did you think it was all just a legend?”
“I was born in the southeast and have never been to the north…” Gong Wu was at a loss for words. “So the Celestial Stairs are real?”
When she was still a child, she had heard her Master, Zhang, recount this myth.
He said that practitioners could see the Thousand Cloud Celestial Stairs at the northernmost part, and anyone who achieved immortality had to ascend through the thirty-six layers of heaven, undergoing enlightenment to ultimately become a Great Luo Golden Immortal.
It was said that to the west of the Celestial Stairs lay the Great Wuxiang Temple, and to the east stretched the mountains of Rainbow Ridge.
But back then, she couldn’t distinguish truth from tales; she thought it was merely a metaphorical expression.
“Once you enter the perimeter, anyone with spiritual vision can see the towering Celestial Stairs, standing at the edge of the world,” Hu Fengyu marveled. “So it’s true that people from the south have never seen the Celestial Stairs.”
“What’s wrong with people from the south!” Gong Wu laughed, then added, “I’ve heard many Masters say that Rainbow Ridge was originally the site of a battle between the red and white dragons, which later transformed into the towering mountains that pierce the clouds.”
“There, an immortal aura lingers like mist, blessed by heaven and earth. Even outsiders can see the undulating dragon veins from afar—it’s truly wondrous.”
“That’s why emperors of every dynasty have been buried there,” Hu Fengyu said. “You have no idea how many imperial tombs are hidden in these mountains, with tomb raiders constantly scheming to drill holes and steal gold and silver.”
As a fox, he avoided contact with the practitioners of Rainbow Ridge, steering clear of the imperial tombs as well.
Fate intervened when a tomb raider breached a gap but perished in a river of mercury.
That very night, cries for help echoed from the hole, the desperate wails of orphans reaching the outside.
Gong Wu was startled and instinctively interjected, “Could it be that the people inside later became the ancestors of the Satin Red Workshop?”
Hu Fengyu nodded. “Exactly.”
The practice of burial for accompanying concubines affected more than just those in the palace.
Originally, whether or not they had children, all were buried alongside the deceased.
There were both live burials and dead burials, resulting in countless lost souls.
Later, it gradually changed so that only those with offspring were spared, while those without children still had to ascend to immortality together.
If the higher-ups faced such fates, the lower ranks suffered even more.
While the emperor was alive, he wielded his power without restraint; even in death, he ensured everything was arranged for a comfortable afterlife.
Concubines brought their attendants, and even more young boys and girls were needed to serve.
To prevent these Children from crying and making noise, the eunuchs would drug them into unconsciousness before burying them in the tombs, sending them to the western paradise to continue serving their master.
No one knew if someone with good intentions had altered the formula or if some herbs had lost their potency due to moisture.
This time, a large group of young girls was sent who did not die; they likely woke at midnight, sobbing nearly to the point of collapse.
Hu Fengyu, then around six hundred years old, felt compassion upon hearing the little fox’s report. He devised a way to open a passage and rescue them.
Among the hundreds of children, ninety percent had already been fully drugged to death; only a few dozen girls remained conscious, though they were severely starved.
He brought them back to his fox den, provided them with food and clothing, and allowed them to decide whether to stay or leave.
Some girls, despite their fears, simply couldn’t bear to stay long in the fox’s den. After repeatedly thanking him, they fled Rainbow Ridge, later marrying and living reasonably well.
About thirty young girls steadied their hearts and became his disciples, following him in cultivation and seeking enlightenment, thus becoming external disciples of the Hu Clan.
The descendants of the Hu Clan at Rainbow Ridge flourished, as each year each household could give birth to three to ten children. Due to their Daoist practices, many lived long lives, and over hundreds of years, generations of descendants accumulated, making it impossible to fully document their family tree.
Among these thirty-six girls, more than twenty eventually married their fellow male disciples, and their children took the surname Hu.
Additionally, more than a dozen had a deep commitment to Daoism and opened their immortal roots by the age of one or two hundred.
Hu Fengyu observed this and summoned Qin Jiangyu, the girl who had been practicing the longest and had the deepest cultivation, to meet him alone. He advised her to establish her own Immortal Sect and to build good relations with many.
He valued her character and talent, telling her that while Rainbow Ridge was good, it did not align with her five elements, which could hinder her cultivation.
Furthermore, it wasn’t very appropriate for so many girls to be in a fox’s den.
Qin Jiangyu bowed deeply and thanked her Master for his kindness. Later, she led her fellow Junior Sisters away from Rainbow Ridge and returned to the capital to establish the Satin Red Workshop.
In later generations, disciples of the Satin Red Workshop also adopted the custom of worshipping the fox spirit. During various seasons, they would present gifts and hold rituals in Rainbow Ridge, and for hundreds of years, the two sects maintained a harmonious relationship, a rare and lasting friendship among many immortal sects.
Upon hearing this, Gong Wu couldn’t help but want him to reveal some later events.
“Could it be that this Qin girl caused you great suffering later?”
Hu Fengyu shook his head.
“She is an extraordinarily good person; even after she became an immortal, no one ever spoke a single bad word about her.”
Gong Wu took a sip of floral tea and lamented, “I should have listened to you tell this story earlier. I didn’t expect the twists and turns inside to be so moving.”
Hu Fengyu smiled and continued.
The Satin Red Workshop focused on the cultivation of music and dance, and gradually, with Qin Jiangyu’s management, it developed deep secret ties with the royal family.
Initially, both male and female disciples were accepted, but due to emotional troubles that arose, within a few decades, they established a rule to only accept girls.
If a girl was to marry, the Satin Red Workshop would prepare a substantial dowry to send her off.
However, future Daoist teachings were no longer accessible to those who married out.
“It was surely because of the practice of burial with the deceased," Hu Fengyu sighed. “Even if the Satin Red Workshop didn’t accept disciples each year, they would secretly take in a large number of girls. Originally, there were far more girls than boys in the groups of those being buried with the dead.”
“I also heard from clan descendants that some concubines secretly entered the Satin Red Workshop and eventually achieved immortality.”
“Such things really happened.” Gong Wu was moved to reflect. “That indeed helped many people escape from suffering.”
“Gradually, people also began to leave abandoned infants in front of the Satin Red Workshop at midnight,” Hu Fengyu shook his head repeatedly. “I don’t understand how people can abandon their children; even if my clan had sickly little foxes, they would still be well taken care of.”
Gong Wu remembered her own background and fell silent with a smile.
“If it was a baby girl, the Satin Red Workshop would take her in; if it was a baby boy, he would be sent to the Charity Institute, even if others would scold them for being biased.”
“Until one day… another baby boy was left in front of the Satin Red Workshop.”
This boy was born with an incurable heart condition; once he cried, he could easily die from gasping. The people at the Charity Institute had already refused to accept him, saying they couldn’t keep him alive for several years and that witnessing his suffering would be heartbreaking.
Even the doctors advised that a condition like his was hard to cure, even for wealthy families relying on ginseng and herbs to prolong life; it would be better to give him medicine to take him to a paradise and let him reincarnate sooner.
This burdensome package was left at the Satin Red Workshop’s doorstep, and many of the girls urged Qin Jiangyu to let him go. Unexpectedly, after much consideration, Master Qin decided to keep him and named him Qin Mianjiu.
“Kept him?” Gong Wu was taken aback. “If he stays, raised among so many women, how many romantic troubles will he face in the future?”
“Indeed, the girls of the Satin Red Workshop thought the same way,” Hu Fengyu sighed. “Though he was disguised as a girl from a young age, avoiding anything that might reveal his true gender, he still couldn’t escape this fate.”
“The Satin Red Workshop conceals its true intentions to avoid attracting unwanted attention.”
“Who could have imagined that he would fall in love with his Master Ancestor, who happens to be my beloved disciple, Qin Jiangyu?”
Gong Wu sensed something deeply amiss upon hearing this.
“How could he survive to the age of awakening emotions with a heart condition?”
“From a very young age, Jiangyu often brought him to visit me, and I frequently gave them Immortal Herbs from Rainbow Ridge to refine medicinal pills.”
“Although he later opened his Spiritual Orifice, he was inherently disadvantaged. Cultivation was far more difficult for him than for others, and merely surviving was a monumental task.”
His Master Ancestor had long since ascended to the Immortal rank; how could a master and disciple, separated by generations, possibly share such a bond?
Recalling her earlier suspicions, Gong Wu glanced at Hu Fengyu’s chest, feeling the situation was utterly absurd.
“You don’t strike me as someone who would show him such compassion.” She searched for inconsistencies in the story, feeling uneasy. “If it were Qin Jiangyu who needed a heart exchange, that would make far more sense…”
Qin Mianjiu and the Fox Ancestor seemed to share only a fleeting connection, having met but a few times. How could that have led to such a tragic end for him?
Hu Fengyu touched his chest, as if sensing her doubt.
His tone was calm, but beneath it lay a simmering frustration.
“I… borrowed… his… heart.”
Qin Mianjiu understood the weight of unfulfilled emotions. He devoted himself to cultivation, spending two hundred years to barely reach the Opening Sun Realm.
But one day, when Qin Jiangyu had fulfilled her earthly good deeds, she was suddenly appointed to a divine role and summoned to ascend the Celestial Stairs.
By the time Qin Mianjiu emerged from his seclusion to learn of this, his Master Ancestor had already departed, heading further west toward Rainbow Ridge.
To rush to the Celestial Stairs for one last glimpse of her, he needed at least the cultivation level of Jade Balance or higher. Otherwise, stepping onto the Celestial Stairs would scatter his spirit and send him straight to rebirth.
At this point, Hu Fengyu’s smile turned sorrowful.
“He knelt before my cave, pleading with me to help him just once.”
“If he could see his Master Ancestor one last time, he vowed to sever all emotional ties, repay my kindness a hundredfold, and dedicate himself entirely to cultivation.”
“It was only a brief exchange, just an hour, and then he would return.”
Hu Fengyu remembered it was a torrential downpour.
Qin Mianjiu was like a grain of sand lost in the storm, utterly insignificant.
At that moment, Hu Fengyu, who had been without his deceased wife for centuries, understood the depth of such pain.
Over time, he felt a pang of pity.
Gong Wu listened intently, realizing for the first time how the seven feelings and six desires could lead to such devastation.
No wonder, in the past, the foremost task for cultivators was to sever all emotions and desires—not just love and hate, but everything in between.
“You… exchanged your heart for a deer’s heart, lending him all your cultivation power?”
Hu Fengyu nodded faintly, his gaze shadowed.
Both he and Qin Mianjiu had underestimated the depths of human greed.
In truth, after Qin Mianjiu received the fox’s heart, he rushed to the Celestial Stairs, ascending several levels until his cultivation could no longer sustain him. He barely caught a glimpse of his Master Ancestor’s robe vanishing into the layers of flowing clouds.
After that moment, he never saw her again, and in this lifetime, their fates were irrevocably severed.
Later on, even Qin Mianjiu couldn’t help but wonder if his Master Ancestor had noticed something long ago, which was why he didn’t say a word during their final farewell.
But at that moment, Qin Mianjiu felt for the first time what it was like to possess immense cultivation power.
His heart was unprecedentedly strong and steady, and spiritual energy surged around him, abundant and inexhaustible.
It was a celestial heart even more powerful than Qin Jiangyu’s, yet he could only use it for one hour.
“So…”
“So,” Hu Fengyu said lightly, “he tricked me into Fuzhou to settle a blood feud.”
At this point, he intended to pause, skipping many details as he drank half a cup of cold tea and tapped the window frame.
“Where are we now?”
“We have entered the Qin Pass!” the coachman called out. “Master, I can see the Celestial Stairs!”
The Fox Ancestor turned to Gong Wu, his expression warm with a smile.
“Benefactor, do you want to get out of the carriage and take a look at the Celestial Stairs for yourself?”
