Chapter Seventy-Seven: She Comes from the Northwest, Sword in Hand to Punish the Wicked

The silver sword left its scabbard, flashing coldly and pointing directly at Zhong Ming from afar.

Within the courtyard, Zhong Ming was initially bewildered, but upon coming to his senses and seeing the woman, he thought to himself, “Isn’t this the woman I tricked into going to Suiyun Mountain for a stroll this morning? How did she return so quickly?”

By Zhong Ming’s estimate, this woman in black should not have been able to return before the moon reached its zenith—yet she was back before sunset. Clearly, she possessed some skill.

What he didn’t know was that Feng Ning had used her immortal arts to summon a jade pipa and transport the three of them here—covering a thousand miles in a day was nothing to her.

As the woman in black drew her sword and pointed it at him, Zhong Ming showed no fear. He clasped his hands together in greeting and smiled. “So it’s the lady who asked me for directions this morning. Well, did you find the village?”

At these words, the woman in black grew even more furious. With a sharp look in her eyes, she sprang lightly over the fence and lunged straight for Zhong Ming’s chest.

Zhong Ming’s gaze was keen, his knife trailing behind him, ready to counterattack the moment her silver sword closed the distance.

Yet, before he could move, someone else acted even faster.

First to intervene was the tall, stout Feng Ning. With a wave of her sleeve and a pinch of her fingers, the woman in black was suspended in midair—frozen as if time itself had stopped, hanging motionless like a clay statue.

Feng Ning admonished her, “Miss Yu, you cannot harm this man.”

Little Feifei called out anxiously, “Big Sister Bai, don’t be rash! We can talk this through.”

On the low wall, Liang Yu was even more nervous. He scrambled down and ran to Zhong Ming’s side, pointing and shouting at the woman, “What are you trying to do?”

Even the multicolored rooster fluffed up in alarm, leaping at the immobilized woman, pecking and flapping until her conical hat was covered in feathers.

In that moment, the woman in black felt utterly aggrieved. Clearly, she had been deceived and was rightfully seeking revenge—how had the entire world turned against her, all siding with this crafty scholar who lied as easily as breathing?

“Senior Feng, release me!” she cried out, her voice thick with indignation and tears welling in her eyes.

Feng Ning hesitated. “Miss Yu, I can let you go, but you must promise not to act recklessly. Let us speak calmly.”

The strange scene before him set Zhong Ming’s thoughts racing. Clearly, the abilities of this tall, stout man were far beyond those of ordinary martial artists—more akin to immortal arts—and Zhong Ming began to doubt the origins of these people.

Which only deepened the mystery of the woman in black.

Throughout, Zhong Ming remained silent, merely urging Liang Yu to step back and observe.

Having been calmed by Feng Ning, the woman in black now stood outside the fence, clutching her sword, her eyes fixed on Zhong Ming with burning intensity.

If looks could kill, Zhong Ming would have been torn to pieces a thousand times over.

Just then, Feng Ning, standing at the doorway, cupped his hands in greeting. “Esteemed master of music, I am Feng Ning. I know a little of music myself and am quite fond of it. Earlier, I overheard your song and sensed a profound atmosphere within it. Might I ask for your guidance?”

Zhong Ming first studied Feng Ning carefully. He stood nearly nine feet tall, towering above ordinary men—such a figure, even in a crowd, would be as conspicuous as a crane among chickens. He wore luxurious robes of silk, different from the usual scholars’ attire, with especially wide sleeves that made him look all the more ethereal. On his head sat a peculiar jade crown adorned with the image of a pipa, a piece of pure white jade hung at his waist, and his bearing was that of a man apart from the world.

Feng Ning’s tone was polite, prompting Zhong Ming to marvel inwardly: his own song had indeed been performed well, but was it truly worthy of such praise?

Perhaps this man was simply a music enthusiast. Since he showed no ill will, Zhong Ming decided to go along with him.

He was still wary of Feng Ning’s ability to immobilize people from a distance—best not to make an enemy of him.

Having weighed the situation, Zhong Ming returned the gesture. “My humble name is Zhong Ming, and I am hardly worthy of being called a master of music. If you are interested, sir, please join me in the courtyard for a conversation.”

“Thank you, Master Zhong, for your hospitality.”

With another respectful gesture, Feng Ning entered the courtyard, seating himself at the stone table by Zhong Ming’s invitation.

“Heizi, bring tea.”

Liang Yu fetched boiling water, and a pot of hot tea was set upon the stone table. Zhong Ming personally poured a cup for Feng Ning, and the two conversed about the song he had just performed.

At Feng Ning’s repeated request, Zhong Ming sang it once more, though lacking the heroic vigor of his earlier practice with the blade, and so the song felt less grand.

But Feng Ning, seasoned in the art of music, knew a song required the right atmosphere—only when time, place, and people aligned could one reach the highest realm. Yet even without that surge of heroic spirit, the song’s composition and lyrics were so masterful that it remained a rare and excellent piece.

Feng Ning pondered, sipped his tea, and asked, “Master Zhong, may I know the name of this piece?”

Zhong Ming replied at once, “Invincible Under Heaven.”

“What a bold and domineering title! It matches the atmosphere of the song perfectly—there is nothing to criticize.”

Upon learning its name, Feng Ning’s appreciation only grew, and he raised his hand to discuss further.

Zhong Ming, however, was growing uneasy: Feng Ning was relentless in his questions, many of them so technical that he could only dodge by claiming the song had been composed by a deceased friend.

Meanwhile, Liang Yu was bored to tears, yawning as he watered the little willow saplings in the courtyard and fussed with their branches.

Outside, the woman in black was still fuming, standing by the fence with her sword, waiting for Feng Ning to finish so she could settle accounts with Zhong Ming.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she became.

Little Feifei squatted by the fence, cracking nuts. Feeling thirsty, she ran over to the stone table for a drink. Feng Ning quickly introduced her, “This is my daughter, Feng Mufei.”

“A lovely name—like snow falling gently,” Zhong Ming remarked, seeing how fond Feng Ning was of his daughter. He cooled the tea for her himself, his gaze filled with fatherly affection.

After drinking, Feng Mufei did not leave, but tugged at her father’s wide sleeve. “Father, the sun is setting behind the mountains. If you don’t meet the two Elders of White Jade Capital now, you’ll miss your important business.”

Feng Ning suddenly realized, patted his forehead, and rose. “Master Zhong, I have pressing matters to attend to. Let us converse again when I return. Please look after my daughter for a short while—by midnight at the latest, I will be back.”

The matter seemed urgent. In his eagerness to discuss music, Feng Ning had already delayed. Without further ado, he waved his sleeve, summoned a jade pipa behind him, and soared away atop it.

As the sun sank and the crimson afterglow spread, the elegantly dressed immortal rode his jade pipa toward Wangxian City.

...

“My heavens, Ming-ge, that man you just had tea with is a celestial official!” Liang Yu gaped, stunned as he watched Feng Ning’s departing figure.

Zhong Ming had already guessed as much. He chuckled, “What’s so surprising? Haven’t you seen an immortal before? But don’t ever call Master Feng a ‘dog official’—he’s nothing like Yutu.”

The mischievous little girl, Feng Mufei, had sidled up to Liang Yu and now grabbed his sleeve, demanding angrily, “Were you just insulting my father?”

Liang Yu scratched his head with a foolish grin, unsure how to answer.

Feng Mufei promptly stomped on his foot—hard enough to make Liang Yu hop about, clutching his toes in pain, while the little girl and the rooster crowed and laughed from the fence.

Her silvery laughter and the rooster’s crows echoed through the courtyard.

Zhong Ming also smiled. Afterward, he walked slowly out of the courtyard, fixing his gaze on the woman in black standing by the fence.

She stood there, sword in hand, staring back at him.

Zhong Ming cupped his hands. “Miss, my name is Zhong Ming. Let me first apologize. This morning, I played a prank on you and never expected it would cause you such trouble.”

With a metallic ring, the woman in black drew her sword and pointed it at him, snorting coldly. “Flowery words! You think a joke will excuse you?”

The blade glimmered red in the sunset, but Zhong Ming just smiled.

Suddenly, Feng Mufei came running out, rattle-drum in hand, and knocked aside the woman’s sword. “Big Sister Bai, you can’t hurt him—this young man is my father’s music friend. If you kill him, who will my father discuss music with? My father is rarely so dedicated—now that he’s finally focused, I can’t let you ruin it!”

The little girl’s words were so precocious that Zhong Ming laughed even harder.

The woman in black trembled with rage but, helpless, sheathed her sword.

Feng Mufei tugged at her sleeve, muttering, “Big Sister Bai, greet this young man and I’ll consider you reconciled. Don’t go around slashing at people…”

Then she whispered, “Always pointing swords at mortals—people will say we immortals are bullies.”

Unable to resist Feng Mufei’s kindness, the woman in black raised her hand in greeting. “Yu Bai. Since Feifei has spoken on your behalf, I’ll let bygones be bygones for now.”

“Yu means ‘to allow,’ Bai means ‘clear as black and white.’ Miss Yu Bai, your name is truly fitting—surely you are one who distinguishes right from wrong. I thank you for your understanding.”

With that, Zhong Ming gave her a grand compliment. Though Yu Bai’s face remained sullen, she was secretly pleased, and only snorted in response.

As the saying goes, it’s better to resolve enmity than to deepen it. Zhong Ming had no wish to quarrel with a young lady—especially one who traveled with Feng Ning and was evidently of immortal lineage.

He simply wanted to see these three on their way. Whether Feng Ning or Yu Bai, their presence was of no benefit to Yuni Village or Zhong Ming himself. Even if Feng Ning wished to befriend him, it was only for the sake of the song.

When speaking of music, Feng Ning was pleasant enough; but once music was set aside, who knew what intentions he harbored? The ways of immortals were inscrutable—they viewed mortals as nothing more than straw dogs, their values at odds with Zhong Ming’s own. To befriend such beings was to dance with tigers—dangerous beyond words.

Thus, Zhong Ming asked, “This morning, I heard Miss Yu Bai was searching for Yuni Village. Let me tell you, you are standing in it now, and I am the village’s record keeper. You may not know, but the borderlands have changed greatly today, and our little village has suffered as a result. We must be cautious. When you asked me about Yuni Village earlier, I was preoccupied with important matters, and our villagers are wary of outsiders. I feared they might harm you, so I had to speak as I did.”

His words, half true and half false, cast him as somewhat pitiable, and Yu Bai was moved.

Still inexperienced in the ways of the world, Yu Bai hesitated, her tone softening. “So it’s true—there are rumors of great upheaval along the border. The dividing line has shifted, and many refugees from the New Tang have been driven from their homes, now exiled near Mount Suiyun.”

“Exactly. The frontier lies between two nations and is perilous. I hope you’ll understand.”

His show of vulnerability worked, and Yu Bai no longer treated him so harshly. She waved her hand. “You needn’t worry. I came to the border precisely to root out evil. Once I deal with the villains, your lives will improve!”

Root out evil? Zhong Ming scoffed inwardly—so she was a young noblewoman with a heroine’s dream.

Recalling scenes from his previous life, he asked, “Miss Yu Bai, did you sneak out here to play the hero without your family’s knowledge?”

Yu Bai was silent, coughing twice.

That settled it—she was indeed a sheltered young lady, off alone to the borderlands, talking grandly of justice. She was nothing more than a caged songbird who had slipped away.

Even Feng Mufei noticed. “Big Sister Bai, you really did sneak out! No wonder you don’t have your sword attendant.”

Yu Bai could only cough in embarrassment, lost for words.

Whoever her family was, whichever immortal house she hailed from, Zhong Ming simply wished to see her gone.

He decided to humor her. “May I ask, Miss Yu Bai, what brings you to Yuni Village? As the record keeper, I will do all I can to assist.”

Now Yu Bai found him increasingly agreeable. This pale-faced scholar was perceptive indeed.

With great enthusiasm, she declared, “I came to the frontier because, in Wangxian City, I heard that Yuni Village harbors a tyrant named Liang Yu, who preys upon the villagers. He is said to be the most wicked man in the Suiyun Mountains. I have come to seek out this villain!”

At the last, her voice rose in pitch.

In the courtyard, Liang Yu, who had been playing with the rooster, scratched his ear and stood up. “Hey, little miss, what do you want with me?”

Zhong Ming slapped his forehead, Liang Yu looked baffled, and Yu Bai was left speechless.

Feng Mufei looked up at the three, then pointed at Zhong Ming. “Big brother, you’re in league with a villain, so you must be no good either!”

Chaos descended.

With a metallic ring, Yu Bai’s sword was drawn again—this time, no one stepped in to shield Zhong Ming.

Cursing Liang Yu inwardly, Zhong Ming realized this girl had clearly been misled by townsfolk and had come to Yuni Village looking for trouble.

Liang Yu’s own fondness for his notorious nickname had backfired—he often boasted of being “Black Liang the Bully” as proof of his prowess, and now it had landed him in real trouble.

“You, with the face of a man and the heart of a beast! So you and the villain Liang Yu are in cahoots—another black-hearted official!”

The tip of her sword was already at Zhong Ming’s throat. He raised a hand to deflect the blade, grinning awkwardly. “Miss Yu Bai, please wait—there’s a misunderstanding!”

Feng Mufei simply shrugged—she couldn’t help him now.

Liang Yu grabbed Zhong Ming’s saber and shouted angrily, “You little miss, why are you pointing your sword at Ming-ge again?”

This only deepened Yu Bai’s suspicions. “The villain and the official address each other as brothers—clearly you’re in league, preying on the innocent.”

With that, her sword edged closer, the tip pressing against Zhong Ming’s throat—one move and he would be cut.

This was truly a case of the scholar meeting the soldier—logic was useless.

...

Meanwhile, in the city, at the White Jade Capital residence.

This was a grand estate with eight courtyards. In all the borderlands, only the city lord’s mansion—before it was rebuilt—could compare.

A side door led to the rear garden, where Yutu resided.

Night had fallen, the sun set behind the mountains, and the waning moon began to rise.

Yutu’s room was simply furnished: a table, a chair, a bed. The chair was empty, incense burned on the table, and Yutu sat cross-legged on the bed, eyes closed.

On a mat below, Fei Dacheng was seated, beads of sweat on his face as he meditated.

For Fei Dacheng, this was his first attempt at meditation. His plump body swayed unsteadily—several times he nearly toppled over, and each time, Yutu would twitch a finger, causing icy spikes to appear at his side. If he fell, the spikes would pierce his flesh, drawing blood and freezing the wound.

Fei Dacheng was beginning to regret it—this wasn’t the path to immortality, it was a brush with death.

Those ice spikes were as long as an arm; if he collapsed, he’d be skewered through and through.

Many times he wanted to give up and go home to Yuni Village, but then he remembered Zhong Ming’s advice and his friend’s own affliction. Gritting his teeth, he pressed on.

His body was already numb, pierced and frozen in several places. The pain was unbearable.

Just as he was about to collapse, Yutu suddenly opened his eyes and waved his hand, dissolving the ice.

Yutu frowned. “That’s enough for today. Tomorrow at dawn, when the drum sounds thrice, I expect you on the mat.”

“Yes, Master,” Fei Dacheng replied, bowing with effort. Struggling to his feet, he dragged his aching body outside.

He was so numb he could barely walk.

As he stepped out, he heard Yutu’s voice behind him. “Stop hiding—come in!”

Fei Dacheng was startled, but, realizing she wasn’t speaking to him, shuffled away. At the corner, he turned to look back.

Standing in the courtyard was a tall, stout man, nearly nine feet high, teasing Yutu’s giant rabbit—which cowered beneath the rockery, trembling.

At Yutu’s summons, the man waved his sleeve and strode toward the house.

Inside, he bowed with a smile. “Feng Ning of Penglai Palace. I come today on urgent business to speak with Mistress Yutu of White Jade Capital.”

Yutu drifted down from the bed, hands clasped behind her. “Feng Ning, spare me the pretense. If you have something to say, spit it out—and then get out of my domain.”

Feng Ning did not reply, but his smile turned deadly.

Suddenly, the crisp sound of a pipa rang out, a jade pipa floating behind him.

Ding—

The strings played themselves, and the roof tiles exploded like firecrackers.

The giant rabbit shrank further beneath the rockery—if it had a shell, it would have hidden inside.

In the White Jade Capital estate, numerous disciples heard the pipa’s notes and stopped their tasks, sending a hundred beams of light soaring skyward.

Night had just fallen—hundreds of lights rose like stars.

Feng Ning smiled and bowed. “Mistress Yutu, let us at least observe the courtesies of immortals, and be civil.”

Ding—

The pipa’s note rang out, and dozens of beams fell from the sky like shooting stars.

The notes lingered, the music circling above the estate long into the night.