Chapter 42: Daily Life in Baishi Town
Cheng Mo’s heart thundered as the water gourd splashed at her feet, her “Yue Shu” facade teetering under Elder Yuheng’s piercing gaze. The old man’s Golden Core aura was restrained but unmistakable, his eyes glinting with curiosity and something sharper—recognition. Of all people, why him? Yuheng, Canglan Sword Sect’s notorious busybody, was known for sniffing out secrets, his knack for meddling rivaled only by his mastery of the sword. He knows something. My concealment’s not fooling him. Her mind raced, calculating escape routes, but fleeing now would only confirm his suspicions.
“Daoist friend,” Yuheng said, his tone deceptively mild, “your aura is… peculiar. A refining qi cultivator with such refined control, living in obscurity? It reminds me of a certain Jinghong Peak elder.” His smile widened, but his eyes locked onto hers, probing. Cheng Mo forced a nervous laugh, bowing clumsily. “Elder flatters this humble cultivator. I’m just a failed wanderer, Yue Shu, seeking quiet. No grand secrets here.” Her voice trembled just enough to sell the act, but her suppressed Golden Core cultivation strained against her will.
Yuheng stepped closer, his divine sense brushing her like a feather, testing but not forcing. “No need for modesty. I sensed a trace of Canglan’s sword intent—faint, but distinct. Care to share how a ‘failed wanderer’ came by it?” His tone was light, but the question was a trap. Cheng Mo’s pulse spiked. He’s fishing. If I slip, I’m done. She gestured to her modest courtyard, deflecting. “Perhaps the elder sensed an old trinket—a gift from a passing Canglan disciple years ago. Would you like tea? It’s poor fare, but sincere.”
Yuheng’s eyes twinkled, but he didn’t press—yet. “Tea sounds delightful.” He followed her inside, his presence filling the small space. As she busied herself with the kettle, her mind churned. He’s not leaving without answers. I need a story—or a distraction.
Back at Canglan Sword Sect, Jinghong Peak simmered under Liu Qingxu’s shadow. Qing Wan returned from a perilous mission, her robes bloodied but her aura sharper, her Silent Annihilation Sword Intent teetering on the edge of Foundation Building Late Stage. In the council hall, Liu Qingxu’s latest accusations—fueled by sabotaged missions—painted Qing Wan as reckless, a threat to sect stability. Elder Yun’s patience waned. “Qing Wan, your strength is undeniable, but your isolation breeds distrust. Prove your loyalty, or Jinghong Peak faces sanctions.”
Qing Wan’s eyes burned, her voice cold. “My sword is my loyalty. Test me, and you’ll see.” She stormed out, ignoring Chu Yi’s worried calls. In her courtyard, she slashed through practice arrays, her heart a storm of rage and buried longing. Shu Yue, you left me to this. The jade pendant and Ten Thousand Year Stalactite Milk, still untouched, mocked her. Why do I keep them? A crack in her dao heart pulsed, threatening to unravel her.
Chu Yi, overwhelmed by peak duties, received a message from Elder Qingxu: Yuheng’s investigating Shu Yue’s absence. Stay vigilant. His heart sank. Master, where are you? Sunny Sister’s breaking, and I can’t hold this peak together. Liu Qingxu’s lackeys circled, spreading whispers of Qing Wan’s instability, tightening the council’s noose.
In the Qingyun Mountains, Wan Qing paused on a ridge overlooking White Stone Town, her zither humming softly. Her tracker’s signal had gone silent, his last message warning of a Golden Core presence. Another player? Her lips curved, undeterred. Elder Luyue, you draw attention like a flame. She descended toward the town, her aura veiled, her intent clear: find Shu Yue, unravel her fears, and claim her heart. Sunny Sister can wait.
In White Stone Town, Cheng Mo poured tea, her hands steady despite her racing thoughts. Yuheng sipped, his eyes never leaving her. “This town’s peaceful, yet you deflected those rogue cultivators cleverly. Not the work of a mere refining qi cultivator.” His tone was casual, but his words cut. Cheng Mo’s smile stiffened. “Just luck and old tricks, Elder. Small towns teach you to be resourceful.” She leaned on her “failed wanderer” story, praying he’d buy it.
Lin Xiaoxi burst through the gate, breathless. “Yue Aunt! The town head needs—oh!” She froze, sensing Yuheng’s aura, her eyes wide. Cheng Mo’s heart skipped. Not now, Xiaoxi. She waved the girl off gently. “Later, Xiaoxi. Go help the town head.” Yuheng’s gaze flicked to Lin Xiaoxi, noting her refining qi fifth layer aura. “Your disciple? She’s promising. Much like Jinghong Peak’s Qing Wan, no?”
Cheng Mo’s blood ran cold. He’s connecting dots. She laughed nervously. “Just a local girl I teach a bit. No comparison to Canglan’s talents.” Yuheng leaned forward, his voice low. “Shu Yue, enough games. I know your sword intent. Why hide here, abandoning your peak?” The name hit like a thunderbolt, shattering her facade. Her hand twitched toward her concealed sword, but she froze, trapped by his calm certainty.
Before she could respond, a melodic hum echoed outside—a zither’s note, sharp and deliberate. Wan Qing’s voice followed, soft but piercing. “Elder Yuheng, what a surprise. Have you found our elusive Jinghong Peak elder?” She stepped into the courtyard, her lotus-pink robes glowing, her eyes locking onto Cheng Mo with a mix of triumph and longing.
Cheng Mo’s heart stopped. Wan Qing. Yuheng. I’m cornered. The plot she’d fled was crashing down, and White Stone Town’s fragile peace was ab
out to break.