Chapter Seventy-Seven: He Pianpian

Several dozen miles from Vast Mist Town, along a mountain path, Shen Yu landed on the ground with Lu Caiwei. The nearby forest was deep and lush, and the faint sound of a stream drifted through the air.

“I never thought sword cultivators’ flying techniques would be so fast,” Lu Caiwei said, her spirits high, though her mind was still spinning a bit. She had just experienced the true art of sword-flight firsthand in the sky; at first, a few people tried to give chase, but within a few breaths, not even their shadows could be seen. With her timid nature, she suddenly felt that choosing the path of the sword cultivator was a wise one—if nothing else, it made fleeing both swift and elegant.

Shen Yu glanced at her and remarked, “A disgrace to sword cultivators.” Lu Caiwei, her thoughts laid bare, flushed red and huffed, “What business is it of yours?”

Shen Yu looked into the distance, his expression tinged with a subtle disappointment. The elder, who had already half-stepped into the Upper Three Realms, was still far from Vast Mist Town. Shen Yu had originally planned to have a good fight—it had been a long time since he’d exercised his skills, and he was feeling rather rusty—but in the end, this foolish girl had ruined his plans.

“Is that scoundrel dead?” Lu Caiwei suddenly asked.

“Dead or as good as dead,” Shen Yu replied.

Lu Caiwei clicked her tongue. Though Shen Yu’s powerful strike had satisfied her, she still harbored a trace of regret, knowing that with things ending this way, her chances of ever going to Cloud Return Immortal Sect were now slim to none. A wave of confusion washed over her. “So, what should we do now?” she asked.

Shen Yu casually found a log to sit on and replied indifferently, “If the simple way won’t work, we’ll just use a more complicated one.”

Lu Caiwei was stunned, not quite understanding what he meant. “You still want to go to Cloud Return Immortal Sect?” she asked, bewildered. Not long ago, he had crippled one of the sect’s most promising disciples in front of countless onlookers, and now they were being hunted by the sect—yet he still thought of visiting their gates. Was he courting death?

“I’m not going. You are,” Shen Yu said. “Are you afraid?”

Lu Caiwei thought about it seriously, then said, a little aggrieved, “Of course I’m afraid.”

Shen Yu looked at her for a long while, then sighed. “If I recall… you once begged me in tears to take you there.”

Lu Caiwei blinked, then said pitifully, “I just wanted to pay my respects to my master, not go seeking death. If I must die, at least let me finish what I need to do first.”

Shen Yu made a noncommittal sound. “Alright.”

Lu Caiwei retorted, “Why do I feel like you want to go to Cloud Return Immortal Sect even more than I do?”

Shen Yu pondered for a moment. “Back in town, I heard that sect is quite grand, with a long history—and there’s something there that interests me.”

...

Cloud Return Immortal Sect had issued a bounty, offering generous rewards; nearly every disciple traveling outside received jade tokens with information about Shen Yu. They spared no effort. Yet as time passed, it was as if the two had vanished into thin air—no trace could be found.

Deep into the night, at the edge of a nameless mountain forest, a faint campfire flickered in the wind. Shen Yu added a few logs to the fire before sitting cross-legged to meditate and cultivate. These days, he was finally no longer idle as before.

Lu Caiwei stood quietly nearby, her face tense. Less than a hundred paces ahead was a camp belonging to dozens of members of the Lin clan—the very group led by Elder Zheng Xuan of Cloud Return Immortal Sect. All the disciples recruited in town were among them. Most notably, for reasons unknown, the sect’s Law-Passing Elder chose to travel with the group at a slow pace.

Indeed, the two had not been hiding or running all this time; instead, they had secretly followed the group, making their way toward the sect’s mountain gate. Perhaps it was the logic of “the best place to hide is in plain sight,” or maybe just luck, but so far, no one had noticed them.

After circulating his spiritual energy for several cycles, Shen Yu took out a small booklet from his robe and began reading. He had recently discovered it contained information about the Daoist Sect—things that piqued his interest. For example, within the sect was a place called the Dao Prison, hidden from the heavens by nine layers of restrictions. As the name implied, it held many demons and monsters: fiends from the Southern Barbarian Demon Realm and devils from the Northern Wasteland. There were also human cultivators who had committed monstrous crimes on their path to power.

Su Mo had never told him these things, but that wasn’t what interested him most. He remembered there was a master of formations within the Daoist Sect—back at the Cliff of Reflection, he’d been stopped by various prohibitions, so he longed to meet that person.

In the distance, Lu Caiwei’s startled cry broke the silence.

Shen Yu turned to look and saw, in the night sky, seven brilliantly colored sashes that stood out even in the darkness.

On those ethereal ribbons stood several people—all women, each with a beauty that would turn the world upside down in the mortal realm. At their head was a woman in a pale green dress, her bearing otherworldly, her appearance exquisite beyond compare, her eyes and brows filled with divine grace and an indescribable air of nobility.

Lu Caiwei gazed quietly, lingering a moment longer on the leading woman, but most of her attention was on the seven-colored ribbons beneath their feet.

A look of reminiscence crossed Shen Yu’s face, as if recalling something from the past.

The members of Cloud Return Immortal Sect all ceased their activities, bowing deeply in respect. The scene surprised Lu Caiwei, who turned to Shen Yu in confusion.

Shen Yu remained seated, saying calmly, “If I’m not mistaken, those ladies are from the Yaochi Holy Land. The one leading them is the current Saintess, He Pianpian.”

The Saintess of Yaochi—one appears every few centuries. She stood on par with Huike, the Bodhisattva Child of Lingyin Monastery; Yu Wenwen of the Daoist Sect; and Li Yi of Green Emperor City. They were all considered the pinnacle of the younger generation.

Lu Caiwei knew little of these matters and, as usual, made a snide remark: “You’re from one of the Holy Lands yourself. Look at their grand procession—and then look at yours.”

Shen Yu said nothing, only gazing silently upward.

Not getting a reaction, Lu Caiwei followed his gaze, soon growing annoyed. “What are you staring at? If you keep looking, your eyes will pop out.”

“They’re coming,” Shen Yu replied blandly.

Lu Caiwei froze, then turned to look.

The seven-colored sashes drifted in the wind, growing clearer and clearer in their sight, until at last they floated down right in front of them.

Lu Caiwei, ever brave only in familiar company, darted behind Shen Yu at the sight of strangers.

The peerless woman fixed her deep blue eyes on them, her voice as clear as a mountain spring, melodious and pure. “My name is He Pianpian, from Yaochi Holy Land,” she said.

As several gazes fell upon them, Shen Yu replied coolly, “Is there something you need?”

The woman’s eyes shifted slightly, and she asked gently, “Have you ever taken a master and begun cultivation?”

Lu Caiwei hesitated, “Are you talking to me?”

The woman nodded. “If not, would you be willing to join our Yaochi Holy Land?”

Lu Caiwei instinctively turned to see Shen Yu’s reaction, but he remained expressionless, as if he hadn’t heard a word.