Chapter 33: Red Beans Know Where Longing Dwells, Mirror Flowers Elude the Lover’s Gaze (Part Three)
by GideonThe next day at noon, Wen Jin went to Baluo Hall to look for Meng Duwei. Lan Yulang seized the opportunity to return to the main headquarters and instructed Xie Congen, “Send someone to investigate Wen Jin’s background. Find out who his parents are.”
Xie Congen was bewildered. “Isn’t Young Hero Wen the spy sent by Murong Yi? Why is the Cult Leader investigating his background?”
Lan Yulang’s gaze swept over him, sending a shiver down Xie Congen’s spine. “Your subordinate obeys!”
Wen Jin was the disciple of Linghu Xuantong and possessed the martial arts cultivation methods of the three great traditions—Confucianism, Buddhism, and Taoism. He must have deep ties to the great families of the martial world. If they could discover his parents’ identities, they would surely uncover the exact nature of his grudge against the Heaven-Seizing Cult.
Lan Yulang’s master was a ruthless man who had slaughtered countless people. Twenty years ago, he had indeed fought a major battle against the Central Plains Martial World. If Wen Jin’s parents had truly died at his master’s hands…
Lan Yulang had already concealed his identity to befriend Wen Jin, a dishonorable act. If a blood feud were added to this, the two of them might truly have to turn their swords against each other.
At this thought, Lan Yulang immediately changed his clothes, donned a mask, and set off for No Regrets Peak.
At the foot of No Regrets Peak lay a cavern with a mechanism that could transport a passenger directly to the summit via a suspended ladder. He steered his pleasure boat into the cavern, and in less than the time it took to drink half a cup of tea, he ascended the ladder to the Lan Jun Pavilion.
No outsiders ever visited the summit; only Mu Fushuang and Jun Lan resided there.
Lan Yulang followed a path of bluestone into a plum grove. Deep within the grove stood a maplewood cottage. On a rocking chair beneath its eaves lay a middle-aged man, his frame gaunt and his complexion a sickly, ashen green. Mu Fushuang, her brow furrowed, never left his side. Her face, which should have been impeccably maintained and naturally alluring, was now etched with sorrow.
Lan Yulang removed his mask and cupped his hands in a formal salute. “Greetings, Masters.”
Jun Lan smiled faintly. “Yulang has come.”
His breath was shallow, his chest heaving violently as he spoke—a man whose lamp had run dry of oil, his life force nearly extinguished.
Jun Lan had once been a prodigy of venomous insects within the Holy Cult, a Priest of great power and prestige. Yet his long-entangled history of love and hate with Mu Fushuang had eventually driven him to the extreme: he had crippled his own meridians to leave the Heaven-Seizing Cult.
Years later, Jun Lan used the Heart-Devouring Gu to restore his meridians, changed his identity, and entered the imperial court. He rose swiftly through the ranks, eventually being appointed as a Grand Censor.
Yet the Heart-Devouring Gu was ultimately no righteous art; it could only reshape the meridians for a decade. Once the time limit expired, the backlash was inevitable.
Now, Jun Lan was suffering the agony of the Heart-Devouring Gu. His mobility dwindled day by day, leaving him no better off than when his meridians had first been severed.
Mu Fushuang held his hand, secretly channeling True Qi into him to soothe his pain.
Lan Yulang, unable to bear the sight, silently averted his gaze.
After a moment, Mu Fushuang asked, “What brings you here today?”
Lan Yulang hesitated before speaking. “Disciple wishes to know what feud the Heaven-Seizing Cult and the Central Plains Martial World formed twenty years ago.”
Mu Fushuang glanced at him. “You never cared for the Holy Cult’s grudges before. Why are you suddenly so concerned today?”
Lan Yulang lowered his eyes. “Disciple has now exacted his revenge. It is time I should shoulder the responsibility of the Sect Leader.”
Mu Fushuang sighed deeply and spoke slowly. “Twenty years ago—no, it should be nineteen years ago—your martial aunt was murdered by the righteous factions. To seek justice for her, I mobilized the entire Holy Cult to invade the Central Plains. Though we broke the Five Great Families’ spirit, the Holy Cult’s own strength was severely depleted.”
“Martial aunt?” Lan Yulang had never heard his master mention anything about his own martial family. He never imagined he had a martial aunt.
“Yes,” Mu Fushuang said. “I once had a junior sister. She was the apple of Old Cult Leader Mu’s eye, named Mu Zhenzhen. I was the Old Cult Leader’s adopted son, and she and I were as close as siblings. After her death, the Old Cult Leader fell ill and passed away within six months, entrusting the Holy Cult to me.”
Lan Yulang asked in confusion, “What grudge did martial aunt hold against the Central Plains Martial World?”
Mu Fushuang held Jun Lan’s hand and continued to channel True Qi into him. “Rumor has it that whoever obtains the Azure Nether Heart Scripture can master peerless martial arts. That foolish girl went to the Central Plains in search of the scripture, but she ended up falling in love with a disciple of the Martial Arts Alliance. In the end, she lost her life over a man and a secret manual.”
Lan Yulang caught the implication. “The Azure Nether Heart Scripture that Master taught me… was it originally obtained by Martial Aunt?”
Mu Fushuang nodded. “She acquired the Kun Formula of the Scripture, yet lacked the fortune to cultivate it.”
Lan Yulang fell silent for a moment before asking, “And which chivalrous hero did Martial Aunt fall for?”
Mu Fushuang’s expression darkened. “When the Old Cult Leader learned of the affair, he was enraged. He vowed to throw the man into the Ten Thousand Gu Cave to suffer a lingering death.”
“To protect her lover’s life, your Martial Aunt refused to reveal his name or identity. Until the day she died, we never even saw the man.”
Mu Fushuang, known for her ruthlessness, now had a glimmer of moisture in her eyes as she remembered her junior sister. “Zhenzhen was tortured to death, her bones broken one by one. That faithless man wouldn’t even give her remains a proper burial.”
Lan Yulang had read many stories in pulp novels about Demonic Cult enchantresses falling for righteous heroes—all of which ended in tragedy. He had never imagined his own Martial Aunt would suffer such a fate.
After a moment, he asked, “Where is Martial Aunt buried?”
“In the peach grove east of Mirror Flower Lake,” Mu Fushuang replied. “She loved peach blossoms; she always used to practice her sword there.”
Wen Jin leaned over the desk, his gaze fixed on Meng Duwei with eager attentiveness. “Thank you, Little Butterfly.”
Meng Duwei brushed his sleeve aside and smoothed out the Xuan paper. “Thank you for what?”
“Thank you for securing a quiet residence for my brother and me,” Wen Jin said.
Meng Duwei’s hand, holding the paperweight, gave a slight tremor. “This is simply your good fortune. I wouldn’t dare claim credit.”
Wen Jin beamed, his smile as vibrant as a blossoming flower. “You’re a true friend, so loyal and generous!”
“Young Hero Wen flatters me,” Meng Duwei replied.
“Are you going to paint again?” Wen Jin glanced at the hand holding the brush. “As expected of a young master from a Confucian Sect family, your artistry is truly unparalleled.”
Meng Duwei shot him a sidelong glance before setting down his brush. “What is your purpose in seeking me out?”
Wen Jin’s smile faded as his expression turned serious. “Do you still have any Plague-Warding Pills?”
Meng Duwei frowned. “You intend to go out?”
“I’ve been away from Yandang Mountain for so long,” Wen Jin explained. “Old Man Linghu must be worried sick. I need to send word that I’m safe, and while I’m at it, deliver some messages to Uncle Murong.”
“The Plague-Warding Pills are brewed by Priest Ouyang,” Meng Duwei said. “Anyone from the Sect who wishes to enter or leave the Miasma Forest must report to her first. Only then will she grant them the pills.”
Wen Jin asked, “Do you know where she usually keeps the medicine?”
Instead of answering, Meng Duwei countered, “Are you planning to steal them?”
“Though ‘steal’ is a crude word,” Wen Jin said with a playful grin, “that’s essentially the gist of it.”
Meng Duwei warned him in a low voice, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Ouyang Duxiu is not someone to trifle with. If she catches you, you’ll be in for a world of pain.”
“Mo Changling uses poison, Duan Jiuyuan uses Gu—what is Ouyang Duxiu’s specialty?” Wen Jin asked.
“She’s a dual cultivator of both poison and Gu,” Meng Duwei replied.
That does sound like a lot to handle, Wen Jin thought.
He smiled and patted his chest in a gesture of reassurance. “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”
Having learned the source of the Plague-Warding Pills, he became vigilant, carefully observing Ouyang Duxiu’s daily routine.
Ouyang Duxiu kept a Golden-Banded Snake named Jiaojiao. Each month, the snake produced a significant amount of venom, a crucial ingredient for her poison concoctions. Consequently, Ouyang Duxiu took Jiaojiao to the Spirit Nether Swamp every evening to train the Spirit Snake.
During this time, the security at the Ten Thousand Saints Hall was laxest—the perfect window for infiltration.
After three days of covert observation, Wen Jin had finally mapped Ouyang Duxiu’s routine. This evening, taking advantage of her absence as she went to train her snakes, Wen Jin used his Lightness Skill to slip into the branches of a tree outside the Ten Thousand Saints Hall. Waiting for the guard change, he leaped onto the roof with lightning speed, slipped into the hall from the shadows, and swung from the rafters to drop silently into the Vermilion Bird Priest’s bedchamber.
This was his first time intruding into a woman’s private quarters. The moment he entered, the sweet, powdery scent of cosmetics wafted over him, stirring a flutter in his heart. He rubbed his face, quickly shaking off the distraction to search for the Plague-Warding Pill’s hiding place.
Ouyang Duxiu’s bedroom was spacious and tidy, but the drawers and cabinets contained only feminine articles, with no trace of elixir pills.
Ouyang Duxiu probably wouldn’t keep the pills in her bedroom, Wen Jin thought, deciding to look elsewhere.
Suddenly, a painting beside the wardrobe caught his eye. It depicted two women boating together, their red and blue dresses striking against the scenery. The woman in blue was undoubtedly Ouyang Duxiu. Who was the other one?
Lost in thought, he cautiously touched the painting. A dull thud echoed, and a hidden door swung open, releasing a pungent, acrid smell of medicine that hit him square in the face.
Wen Jin: “…”
Talk about a stroke of luck.
He slipped inside. The secret chamber contained four wooden cabinets. Three were filled with various porcelain bottles—clearly the elixirs Ouyang Duxiu had brewed. The fourth cabinet held transparent glass containers, each housing a dark, wriggling worm that lay dormant and still.
He remembered seeing Meng Duwei use such insects to guide the way through the Miasma Forest. These must be the legendary Gu Insects.
A chill ran down Wen Jin’s spine. He instinctively backed away, turning to search the other three cabinets.
Each bottle was labeled with its name. He scanned them one by one, searching for a long time before finally finding the Plague-Warding Pill. He quickly unscrewed the lid, poured several pills into his palm, and hid them away before returning the bottle to its place and preparing to leave.
Just as he pushed open the secret door, a guard outside the hall called out, “Lord Ouyang.”
Ouyang Duxiu’s voice followed. “Prepare the water. I wish to bathe.”
Wen Jin’s heart hammered against his ribs. He immediately leaped onto the roof beam. Before he could escape the way he had come, the closed door was pushed open, and Ouyang Duxiu strode slowly into the room.
Wen Jin dared not move an inch, crouching silently on the beam.
Soon after, several maids brought in hot water. Ouyang Duxiu removed his robes and stepped, naked, into the bathing tub. Wen Jin quickly shut his eyes, silently chanting in his mind: Do not look, do not look, do not look…
But just then, a faint rustling sound came from beside him. He opened one eye to peek and was horrified to see a Silver-Banded Snake on the beam, slowly slithering toward him!
Wen Jin instinctively held his breath, his face turning deathly pale in an instant.
He gathered his True Qi at his fingertips, preparing to kill the Silver-Banded Snake. But doing so would inevitably create a sound; with Ouyang Duxiu’s level of Internal Energy cultivation, he would surely discover Wen Jin’s presence.
What he failed to notice, however, was another snake—a Golden-Banded Snake—that had appeared silently behind him. It was none other than Ouyang Duxiu’s favored pet, Jiaojiao!
The snake had been trained and was exceptionally intelligent. Wen Jin, now fully focused on defending himself against the Silver-Banded Snake in front of him, had not noticed its presence.
Suddenly, Jiaojiao leaped forward and sank its fangs into the back of his neck, venom instantly seeping into his flesh!
Wen Jin sternly seized Jiaojiao by its seven-inch mark, his True Qi condensing at his fingertips as he instantly took its life.
The Golden-Banded Snake’s venom was too potent, spreading rapidly through his body. He hastily sealed several acupoints to prevent the poison from attacking his heart.
At this moment, he could no longer afford to worry about being discovered by Ouyang Duxiu. Wen Jin immediately fled the way he had come.
Just as he turned to flee, Ouyang Duxiu’s head snapped up, his gaze sharp and alert. “Who’s there?”
He caught only a glimpse of a cyan robe’s hem before a dead snake plummeted from the sky.
“Jiaojiao!” Ouyang Duxiu rose from his bath, snatching his clothes from across the room and throwing them on in a blur. His eyes burned with fury as he cradled his precious little heart, then charged out of the Ten Thousand Saints Hall, commanding his guards to capture the snake-slayer.
The Golden-Banded Snake’s venom was exceptionally potent. Without an antidote administered within a critical window, death was certain.
Wen Jin dared not use his Internal Energy to force the venom out; doing so would only accelerate its spread through his body. His only option was to employ his Lightness Skill to flee as swiftly as possible, heading straight for Baluo Hall in the hope that Meng Duwei possessed a cure.
Yet, the venom of this particular snake far exceeded that of an ordinary Golden-Banded Snake. After flying barely one li, his vision suddenly went black. His body gave out, and he plummeted, crashing into the damp grass.
As his consciousness faded, he faintly heard Xie Congen’s voice calling from the distance: “Sect Leader, it’s Young Hero Wen!”
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