First Entering the Spirit Void 97. Beneath the Face Veil

After receiving a stern rebuke from his senior sister, the masked man could no longer hold back his tears, which soaked through the black cloth covering his face. Gritting his teeth, he wrote again, "Senior sister, my thoughts were mistaken, but I wonder if I will ever be able to restore my original appearance?"

Meng Biyu replied calmly, "According to our master, as long as you obtain the 'Dharma Sutra,' the 'Secret Manual of Immortality,' and the 'Divine Art of the Green Bag'—three sacred texts—along with the heads of two rare poisonous snakes each over a hundred years old, you can restore your true face. It also depends on fate, meeting a divine healer at the right time."

She paused briefly before continuing, "The 'Dharma Sutra' is the treasure of Famen Temple; it is not difficult to find. However, the more challenging ones are the 'Secret Manual of Immortality' and the 'Divine Art of the Green Bag.' The latter has been lost for many years. Master has secretly inquired but found no trace."

"The map to the 'Secret Manual of Immortality' is also hard to come by. Especially the two poisonous snake heads over a hundred years old—they are even harder to obtain. It's not that century-old poisonous snakes are rare, but these two snakes devour each other. Only when the larger snake swallows the smaller one, and their heads are aligned and severed together, can the remedy be effective. You can imagine how rare such an occurrence is! Aside from this secret formula, there is still hope if you can find a disciple of the Eastern Origin divine healer."

Hearing how difficult the task was, the masked man felt his hope of restoring his true face shatter and tears fell once more.

Five men and women hiding behind a stone pagoda, eavesdropping, knew nothing of the masked man's injury or how badly his body was damaged. But hearing Meng Biyu describe the difficulty in regaining his original appearance, they couldn’t help but shed tears of sympathy for him.

Miss Jie suddenly recalled the book she had obtained from the hunter’s wife in Chiniu Mountain. She thought to herself, isn’t that the "Divine Art of the Green Bag"? Fortunately, I still have it with me and haven’t lost it. If I show this book to my cousin, wouldn’t it ease his burden?

Delighted at this thought, she wanted to speak out, but the down-and-out scholar, ever watchful, noticed the glimmer of hope on her brow and, seeing her about to speak, quickly made a gesture to stop her. Then he whispered with a smile, "Miss Jie, I didn’t expect that book given to you by the hunter’s wife would be so useful to your cousin."

After seeing the words the masked man had written reflected in the mirror and observing the scholar’s true nature, Miss Jie grew suspicious. She was uncertain whether the scholar was genuinely acting on his elder brother’s behalf or if he was her long-lost maternal uncle who had disappeared years ago. She asked, "Elder, is your surname really Bi?"

The down-and-out scholar’s expression changed slightly at the sudden question but soon returned to normal. He smiled and said, "Of course."

Miss Jie pressed further, "Elder, I suspect 'Bi Gan' is your alias. Might I know your real name?"

The scholar smiled lightly and shook his head, "For decades, everyone has called me Bi Gan. Whether I have another name, even I cannot recall. Miss, why do you ask so suddenly?"

She explained, "At home, my father often spoke of a young maternal uncle who loved drinking and was very humorous. But he left many years ago without a trace. His temperament resembles yours, and you look exactly like my elder cousin. That is why I dared to ask."

The scholar smiled faintly, "I see. Your young uncle has been missing since he left. Perhaps—" He suddenly paused, seeming to recall some private sorrow.

Seeing his firm denial, Miss Jie had no choice but to turn her gaze toward the bamboo tower. There, her cousin stood with his back turned, head bowed, eyes twitching as if weeping silently. She couldn’t help but sob aloud.

Suddenly, the black-clad girl inside the bamboo tower comforted the masked man, "Junior brother, don’t be so sad or afraid of difficulties. As the saying goes, ‘Nothing is difficult if you set your heart to it.’ If we try our best, your wish may be fulfilled."

The masked man wrote again, "How much time does a person have? Even if I find all these things you mentioned, the prime of youth has passed. What use is restoring my original face then?"

Meng Biyu reassured him, "Don’t lose heart. Follow master’s instructions patiently. Perhaps an unexpected encounter awaits."

The masked man shook his head and wrote, "Senior sister, please tell master that I no longer wish to go down the mountain."

Meng Biyu was taken aback, "Your matters are your own. If you don’t try, I dare not speak to master on your behalf."

He quickly wrote, "If master wants these four things found, why did he ask me to put up a notice and stir up trouble in the martial world? I simply don’t understand the reasoning."

Meng Biyu explained, "Those who framed you are Luo Mingyuan and the Hundred Sect’s Fat Arhat. The Hundred Sect is a coalition of traitors from major sects who have long troubled the jianghu. The major sects have turned a blind eye, but stirring them up is not without cause."

"Heretical sects in the greenwoods deserve to be exterminated; what is there not to understand? Everything has a source. When you disturb the martial world, the sects gather to find the root cause. There is no wind without waves; when the waves rise, what was hidden beneath the water is revealed. Master is urging you to seek a solution, not plead for mercy. Do you understand?"

The masked man wrote swiftly, "Following your guidance, I went to the yin tomb to rescue my cousin. Though I fulfilled my mission, I was deeply moved by the female warrior named Xie."

Meng Biyu raised her brows in slight annoyance, "What moved you about her?"

He wrote, "That Xie warrior has a pure heart, full of compassion, and great ambition to save people. I, on the other hand, did the opposite. When I went to Famen Temple and slaughtered many, upon meeting her, I felt deep regret. If I continue killing in other sects, won’t I only create more evil?"

Meng Biyu shook her head and sighed, "Master never wanted you to massacre indiscriminately, only to cause a stir and, if meeting vile foes, cripple their martial arts."

The masked man wrote, "I proclaimed I would kill all in the martial world. If I don’t kill them, they’ll kill me! Besides, martial artists treat their skills as their lives. They’d rather be captured and killed than have their skills destroyed. How could this plan work?"

Meng Biyu’s face showed hesitation, "You are young and inexperienced. Of course, carrying out master’s plan is difficult. You must stay calm, think deeply, and act decisively. Those who must be killed, kill them!"

He replied, "I was born into a cultured and courteous family; killing is truly hard for me."

Hearing him persist in refusing to descend the mountain, her expression darkened. She spoke sternly, "Whether you wish to go down is your choice. I doubt master will force you. But think carefully: you were so grievously harmed you cannot show your face. If you don’t go down to seek revenge, who will?"

He still held his ground, writing, "I would rather bury this deep hatred with me in the ground forever than go down the mountain."

Meng Biyu flung off her sleeve and said, "Your weak and old-minded way of thinking is not entirely bad, but you must face reality. To me, you are truly unfilial. Your father labored hard to raise you. If you die of natural causes, then fate was not on your side. But you are alive and cannot see your parents, nor can you continue your family line. Is that the way of a son?"

Hearing her harsh words, the masked man could no longer hold back tears.

Miss Jie, witnessing his sorrow, wanted to speak out several times but was silently signaled to remain quiet by the down-and-out scholar. Watching Meng Biyu chastise her cousin with words of filial duty, she felt respect arise in her heart. Her previous jealousy vanished completely, and she began to understand her cousin’s reluctance to acknowledge them.

Mist hung over the few secluded peaks, seeming to fill the entire universe. Dewdrops sparkled on their hair, and their clothes were damp with moisture, bringing a slight chill.

Suddenly, a strange whooshing sound came from the stone peak opposite. The down-and-out scholar and the others, who had been intently watching the bamboo tower and eavesdropping on the black-clad girl, were startled.

They all looked up instinctively and saw a shadow darting through the air. Once overhead, they clearly saw it was a giant bird, its wings perched on the copper wire atop the bamboo tower. With a powerful flap, it swept down the peak like a gust of wind.

At that moment, the lights in the bamboo tower suddenly went out, followed by the melodious sound of a zither, its tone exquisitely beautiful.

The down-and-out scholar was captivated by the gentle zither music, looking up at the now darkened window, thinking to himself, "What a superb performance."

Soon after, a young girl’s singing joined the zither, her voice flowing gracefully like a newly hatched oriole or a swallow returning to its nest. The interplay of zither and song, with its varying rhythms and pitches, was enchanting and supremely delicate.

The hearts of the scholar and the others rose and fell with the melody. At sorrowful moments, tears of sympathy slipped down their cheeks.

On this desolate mountaintop in the dead of night, the sorrowful song added to the melancholy. The three women could not help but wipe their eyes repeatedly.

The zither’s notes climbed from low to high, while the song turned from mournful to intense, her clear, ringing voice like a thread of copper wire cast into the sky.

As her song reached the highest notes, it twisted and turned several times, rising even higher, like climbing Mount Tai’s towering Aolai Peak, where sheer cliffs seem to touch the heavens.

But as one passes Aolai Peak, encountering the Fanzi Cliff above it, and then the Southern Heavenly Gate beyond, the path becomes increasingly perilous and wondrous.

After reaching the third or fourth octave at the peak of her singing, the melody suddenly plunged, then raced along with countless twists and turns like a flying snake weaving through the mid-slopes of Huangshan.

Circling repeatedly, her song gradually descended in pitch but remained clear with every word distinct.

Her singing expressed the fury in her heart, as if human emotions exploded skyward, a dazzling force of thousands of tempers rising, overwhelming the heavens—like a torrential storm impossible to endure.

Even the usually lighthearted and cynical down-and-out scholar found his breath quickening, eyes moist with tears. The three women and Xu Qingsong could no longer hold back their tears, which fell freely with the song.

After a while, the singing softened and sank, and suddenly the zither stopped. Then two caws echoed in the air, startling those lost in the melody. Looking up, they saw the giant bird return, circling once before settling again on the stone pagoda.

Just as they marveled at the bird’s return, a cry came from the bamboo tower as a window was thrown open. Before they could focus, a small figure leapt from the tower.

The figure moved as fast as lightning, passing by them in a flash. They caught only a fragrant breeze before suddenly feeling a hand press the back of their heads. Instantly, they collapsed, slipping into a deep sleep. Even in dreams, they could hear the plaintive melody of the zither and song.

After touching the sleeping points of each person, the figure sprang down the peak.

Thick mist blanketed the mountain, a chaotic, primordial haze like the world before creation. Though it appeared still and soft, it churned and surged relentlessly.