056. The Antarctic

Returning to the Xuan Yuan Temple, Lingyu suddenly felt a strong urge to do something.

Five years ago, when she passed through Yin City, she thought she would never return, but at this moment, she longed to go back once more.

The apocalypse had not yet arrived, but the sudden death of Shi Jingbai made her realize the uncertainty of life; even if she refused to give up, she could never truly control her fate.

A person without enough strength, no matter how unwilling to let go, can only watch as the world collapses.

So she decided to take one last look. From this point on, whether the world perishes or her loved ones die, she could only drift along like a leaf on the current.

She packed all her belongings, tucked Abi into the beast pouch, entrusted Ji Wu with a letter for Fan Xianshu, and set off toward Yin City.

When she was mortal, it had taken half a month to travel from Yin Slope to Yuan City; now, riding the paper crane day and night, she reached Yin City in just over a day.

Such was the power of cultivation; only with power could one speak of change. Without it, one could only accept.

By the time she reached the Cheng residence, it was deep into the night. After five years, the Cheng residence remained as extravagant and splendid as ever. Lingyu landed silently in the small courtyard, quietly watching the shadows flickering on the window.

“A man must know when to stop before he can be resolute; with resolution comes tranquility, with tranquility comes peace, with peace comes contemplation, and with contemplation comes understanding. Everything has its root and branch, every matter its beginning and end. To know what comes first and what follows is to be near the Dao.” The low recitation was especially clear in the quiet night, and the silhouette of a young man appeared on the left window pane.

“Third Young Master, it’s almost midnight; you should rest.” The crisp voice of a young maid sounded.

“Is it midnight already?” The youth’s voice, deepening with adolescence, lifted as he glanced at the water clock. “It really is midnight. I wonder if Mother has gone to sleep.”

At that moment, a beautifully adorned lady, surrounded by maids, stepped out from the kitchen at the corner and came to knock on the door. “Yan’er?”

“Second Madam,” the maid hurried to open the door, happily taking the tray from the attendant. “Young Master, Second Madam has brought you another bowl of bird’s nest porridge.”

The youth apologized, “Mother, you don’t need to go to so much trouble. If I’m hungry, I’ll ask Xiaohuan to prepare something.”

“How could Xiaohuan’s cooking compare to mine? You study so hard; making you a late-night snack is hardly any trouble.”

“Mother…”

Mother and son spoke tenderly for a while, then the youth said, “It’s getting late, Mother. Go to bed soon, or Lily-of-the-Valley will fuss again.”

“Alright, you rest early as well.”

As the door opened and the youth escorted his mother out, ready to part, he suddenly noticed a figure standing in the flowerbed.

“Ah!” The beautiful lady was startled and was about to call for help, but her voice faltered, and she stood transfixed, staring at the figure.

The youth stepped forward, shielding his mother, brow furrowed in anger. “Who are you?”

“Junying?” the lady murmured, “Are you Junying?”

The young Daoist behind the flowers stood with sword in hand, features obscured and hard to distinguish in the shadows, yet the woman instinctively called out, “Junying!”

A sigh drifted through the night, its source unclear, and in the blink of an eye, the figure vanished, as if it had been nothing more than an illusion.

“Second Madam?” The two maids who followed looked confusedly at the stunned lady and the third young master.

“Mother,” the youth realized what his mother had said and asked urgently, “Is it Second Sister? Has she returned?”

“Junying…” The empty courtyard echoed her words, and the flowerbed trembled faintly.

Lingyu leaned against the wall, eyes tightly closed, feeling tears gather at her lashes.

She had once believed her mother hated her existence, that no one in this family needed her. So, after meeting her master, she abandoned her surname and given name, calling herself only Lingyu. It wasn’t until five years ago, on that night when she returned and heard the newborn sister’s name, that she understood her existence had meaning.

Junying grass, also known as Lily-of-the-Valley. After losing her, her mother used this name to commemorate her.

Even after eight years away, her appearance changed, her mother still recognized her at a glance.

That was enough. Lingyu had no regrets left for mortal kinship.

At the gates of Yuan City, Fan Xianshu saw Lingyu and wore a look of impatience. “Wasn’t our appointment three days ago? How is it that you’re a day late?”

“Sorry, something took longer than expected.” Lingyu was not bothered by her own breach of promise. “Didn’t my junior tell you?”

“He did, but…” Fan Xianshu frowned, not wishing to argue further. He summoned the paper crane. “Since everything’s settled, let’s go.”

The journey from Yuan City to the South Pole was long. After flying for about ten days, the scent of the sea reached them.

The vast blue ocean spread before their eyes, boundless and grand. Seabirds soared above, and stretches of green—vast islands—dotted the blue, occupying expansive swathes.

This was the beginning of the South Sea Marshes. Numerous islands fractured the sea into scattered shapes, and many tribes lived and prospered on these islands.

Lingyu took out a map, compared it, and found a crescent-shaped island. They landed their paper crane there.

This crescent-shaped island was barely ten miles in circumference, less than half the size of Yuan City, but it was the stronghold of three great Daoist temples in the South Pole.

Lingyu had barely put away the paper crane when two sword-wielding cultivators approached and barked, “Who goes there? Show your token!”

Both wore the robes of the Wuji Temple—likely disciples of Wuji. Lingyu had no intention of conflict and tossed out her True Disciple token. “Lingyu of Xuan Yuan Temple…”

Seeing her token and confirming its authenticity, the two immediately returned it with courtesy. “Ah, a fellow cultivator from Xuan Yuan Temple. Please, come in.”

Lingyu smiled and nodded, “Thank you.”

“And you, fellow cultivator?” Fan Xianshu was stopped. “Your token?”

Fan Xianshu looked at Lingyu and spread his hands.

Lingyu, resigned, bowed to the two. “I was instructed by my elders to bring this friend here. Could you make an exception?”

The two exchanged a glance. One said, “You are a True Disciple, so bringing one person is normally permitted. But these are extraordinary times; please leave proof.”

Lingyu thought for a moment and asked, “Would a signed guarantee suffice?”

They did not make things difficult and quickly agreed, “That will do.” They produced a register, had Fan Xianshu leave his name and handprint, and Lingyu sign as guarantor before allowing them entry. “Please, both of you.”

Lingyu thanked them and led Fan Xianshu toward the palace guarded by Xuan Yuan Temple disciples.

“This junior sister, your disciple token please.”

Lingyu produced her jade True Disciple token and handed it over.

The guard glanced at the token, surprise flashing in his eyes. After confirming, his manner became respectful. “Ah, Senior Sister Cheng—when did you become a True Disciple? Congratulations.”

True Disciples were limited in number; Xuan Yuan Temple had barely more than a dozen, all well-known. Hearing her name, they immediately realized she was newly promoted.

Lingyu smiled, “Just lucky.” She pointed to Fan Xianshu. “May I bring him in?”

“Of course,” one of the guards said eagerly. “As a True Disciple, you have that privilege.”

“Thank you very much.” Lingyu bowed and strode in with Fan Xianshu.

Behind them, the guards whispered among themselves.

“Has another True Disciple advanced to Master? How did we get a new one?”

“I don’t think so. Haven’t heard anything.”

“So this Senior Sister Cheng…”

“Perhaps they added more in these unusual times. She’s at the sixth level of Qi Refinement—other than being young, nothing special…”

“Could the temple have relaxed the requirements for True Disciples? Maybe we’ll get a chance ourselves…”

“You’re dreaming! Senior Sister Cheng is only at Qi Refinement six, but she looks barely seventeen or eighteen. You’re over twenty and still at the fifth level…”

Inside the palace, after asking a disciple for Han Funing’s location, Lingyu led Fan Xianshu smoothly onward.

Before they reached their destination, the sound of fierce argument erupted nearby.

“Han Funing, what exactly are you planning? Elder Feng said I was to handle this!” It was Liu Weiyi’s voice.

Lingyu’s face showed surprise, and she paused.

Han Funing’s calm voice replied, “Yes, you’re in charge, but as a Master, I can assign a disciple or two, can’t I?”

“That’s true, but…”

“If so, what grounds do you have to bar me?”

“I’ve never ordered your disciples.”

“…” Liu Weiyi was silent a moment, then said, “But she’s my student!”

“She entered the Dao under my guidance,” Han Funing laughed. “Besides, she herself hasn’t refused. What right have you to object?”

“You’re a Master, she’s a disciple—how could she refuse? Han Funing, do what you must, but I’ve taught her for five years, watched her grow, and I will not allow you to ruin her!” Liu Weiyi’s voice was edged with deadly intent.

Lingyu grew increasingly puzzled—were they talking about her?

“Don’t say such things; it’s easily misunderstood,” Han Funing said lazily, tinged with mockery. “If someone overheard, they’d think I was doing something unspeakable.”

Liu Weiyi exploded, “Han Funing!”

After a brief silence, Liu Weiyi snorted coldly, “Just wait. If I catch you wrong, don’t blame me for being ruthless!”

Han Funing’s voice was still smiling, “Be my guest.”

Footsteps sounded as Liu Weiyi stormed out, saw Lingyu, and raised her brows. “You’re quick to arrive!”

Her voice was full of anger, leaving Lingyu unsure how to respond, so she greeted her honestly, “Greetings, Master Liu.”

“Hmph!” Liu Weiyi could not be bothered and swept away.

Lingyu sighed and led Fan Xianshu inside. “Master Han.”

Han Funing saw them, expression calm, entirely at ease. “Sit. How did things go?”

Lingyu took out several cosmos bags and placed them on the table. “I did not fail.”

Fan Xianshu followed suit, handing over several bags he brought.

Han Funing glanced at them and nodded, “Very good. Prepare yourselves; tomorrow, you’ll join me in repairing the Celestial Pillar.”