Chapter 24 — The Divine Sword

Zeng Shuyan led Zhang Qingyue straight toward the largest of the eight platforms, the Qian Platform. Zhang Qingyue followed behind him and looked out—at the foot of that platform the disciples of the Canglan Sect were a sea of people, packed so tightly not a drop could trickle through. By the look of it there were four or five hundred at least. Zhang Qingyue did a rough reckoning in his mind and guessed that more than half of the Canglan Sect members in the square must be gathered below this platform, the greater part of them young male disciples.

As the two drew near, the clamor only grew; all around them was the jubilant discussion of Qingyun disciples.

"Xiaozhu Peak has always been rich in beauties, and I hear that this time Lu Xueqi is hailed as the finest beauty in five hundred years!"

"Need you say it? I saw her that day in the Yuheng Hall—truly she could topple a kingdom and ruin a city—ai yo, who hit my head—eh, Martial Uncle?"

A white-bearded old man beside him raged: "You little whelp! You are a cultivator—your heart should be still as water. How can you be so greedy after beauty? If you were put on the platform, you'd do nothing but stare at that face, and lose before you raised a hand!"

"Yes."

"Hmph. That's why I told Brother Zuo long ago—beauty is a curse. Our Canglan Sect should never have taken in female disciples."

"Cough, cough—Martial Uncle, you are indeed, er, brilliant and divinely martial, wise and sagacious. But isn't your voice perhaps a little too loud?"

"What? Did I say something wrong?" The white-bearded old man blew out his beard and glared, his voice rising instead.

"No, no," the young disciples hurried to crowd around him; after putting on conciliatory smiles they lowered their voices: "Martial Uncle, Master Shuijing is sitting right inside."

"..." Lowering his voice, the old man said: "Hmph. If not for the sake of our common sect, I'd long since—"

The disciples all agreed in unison, praising the old gentleman's profound cultivation and broadness of mind, his refusal to stoop to quarrel with petty juniors. Zeng Shuyan and Zhang Qingyue exchanged a glance; Zeng Shuyan shrugged, and Zhang Qingyue whispered to him: "Is the person you spoke of that senior sister of Xiaozhu Peak?"

Zeng Shuyan nodded and glanced up at the platform: "It hasn't begun yet. In a moment you'll see what her fame is worth. But—ah—there are really too many people here."

As they spoke the two of them wound this way and that, yet ever circled about the outer edge of the crowd; the inner ranks had long since been packed full by layer upon layer of Qingyun disciples, not even a needle could be wedged in. Zhang Qingyue's curiosity grew and grew—this mysterious figure was indeed popular beyond measure, to draw so many Qingyun disciples here.

Zeng: "Blast it, blast it—no good seats left. If I'd known, I'd have come last night to queue up here."

Zhang Qingyue was startled, and before he could speak, Zeng Shuyan's eyes suddenly lit up: he had spotted several dozen disciples of Fenghui Peak standing ahead. Without another word he seized Zhang Qingyue and charged over. The Fenghui Peak disciples, seeing it was Zeng Shuyan, all broke into smiles, and one tall fellow laughed: "Ha ha, you're late."

Zeng Shuyan paid him no mind, only dragged Zhang Qingyue inward. The Fenghui Peak disciples clearly thought very well of Zeng Shuyan; one and all they made way, and Zhang Qingyue rode his coattails in. In no time the two had burrowed into the inner ring, where the view was indeed excellent. At the point nearest the platform sat seven or eight figures—Sect Leader Daoyan Zhenren of the Canglan Sect, Cangyan Daoren of Long Peak, and Master Shuijing of Xiaozhu Peak were all conspicuously present, and the rest, from the look of them, were mostly renowned elders of the various peaks. Behind them stood a dense throng of Qingyun disciples, and most conspicuous of all, the bevy of beautiful female disciples of Xiaozhu Peak stood behind Master Shuijing; Wen Pei, whom Zhang Qingyue knew, was among them. But nearest to Master Shuijing was the beauty in blue from the drawing of lots in the Yuheng Hall the day before. She was still cold as frost and snow now, exquisitely pure, drawing countless gazes.

"See her? That's the one." Zeng Shuyan nudged Zhang Qingyue with his elbow, signaling him to look at the woman in blue. Zhang Qingyue looked at her a few more times and said in a low voice: "She's the great favorite you spoke of?"

Zeng: "Favorite maybe not. I hear Lu Xueqi hasn't been in the sect very long, and her cultivation is hard to gauge. But everyone says that for beauty, it must be hers beyond question!"

Zhang Qingyue frowned: "Brother Zeng, the way you're drooling looks quite lewd!"

Zeng Shuyan: "Cough, cough—I, do I? Heh heh, you must be seeing things. By the way, look at our fellow disciples all around?"

Zhang Qingyue looked out and saw that among the young generation of Qingyun disciples nearby, most had their eyes fixed on the beauties of Xiaozhu Peak, and above all on that woman in blue, Lu Xueqi. Yet those beauties seemed long accustomed to it; every one composed, and Lu Xueqi herself expressionless, cold as frost, as though she did not see the male disciples of her sect behind her at all.

Zeng Shuyan swallowed a mouthful of saliva and whispered to Zhang Qingyue: "When you think about it, it's no wonder. Our Canglan Sect has been taking in young disciples in great numbers these last years—look around, there must be three or four hundred of our age at least. Heh heh, our cultivation is shallow, so naturally we're easily tempted."

Zhang Qingyue shot him a sidelong glance. Zeng Shuyan's originally handsome face now seemed to have taken on a different flavor, and recalling the book from a moment ago, Zhang Qingyue felt as though the character for "lust" were written on his forehead.

Zeng: "Brother Zhang, why do you keep looking at me instead of them? It's because I feel a kinship with you—because I count you a friend—that I dragged you over here to look. By the way, which of them do you think has the best figure?"

Zhang Qingyue turned his head away at once, and in his mind appended the character for "wolf" to his appraisal of Zeng Shuyan.

Just then the clamor that had filled the grounds fell suddenly silent. Under all eyes, Lu Xueqi stepped forward and made a bow to Master Shuijing, who sat in her chair. Master Shuijing nodded faintly: "Go."

Lu Xueqi answered, straightened the front of her garment, lightly formed a dharma sign with her right hand, and cast a pair of bright, brimming beautiful eyes toward the platform. Now the faint cloud-vapor that had lain at the white jade flagstones beneath her feet suddenly swirled from all sides and gathered swiftly toward her; in a moment a white cloud cluster had formed beneath Lu Xueqi's feet, and then she rose, like a fairy maiden, slowly ascending amid that vast white cloud, drifting into midair and over onto the platform.

The mountain wind came, and that pure white cloud-vapor drifted and curled like the softest, loveliest silk. Lu Xueqi's garments fluttered, her skin like snow, her beauty pure and beyond compare, as though a fairy of the nine heavens had fallen into the mortal world—rousing tenderness in the heart, and with it no small measure of awe.

A moment later thunderous applause erupted below the platform, a roar like mountains and seas, so loud that Zhang Qingyue, caught unawares, felt his ears ring at once. He was astonished—he had not thought Lu Xueqi so adored. But then, even he, gazing at that lovely figure in midair, felt his heart race and his spirit fly beyond his control—truly it was hard to imagine such beauty existed in the world.

Even Master Shuijing, seated below, whose face had ever been cold, now bore a trace of a smile.