At the grand ceremony of the Huawei Sect, Song Qianji once borrowed Ziye Wenshu's jade phoenix flute.
The flute's sound was hoarse, growing increasingly solitary and cold as he played, like a frozen spring sobbing softly or a northern wind sweeping through snow.
This purple bamboo flute, however, was only half the length of the jade flute. Its notes emerged clear and lively, like a chorus of birds competing in spring.
The two from the Celestial Sound Sect were taken aback by the sound, finding it even more peculiar.
He Yun sensed trouble and immediately rummaged through her storage bag to offer the other party a different instrument.
Most sound cultivators of the Celestial Sound Sect regarded their instruments as extremely precious. Having used zithers, lutes, and pipas herself, she was reluctant to lend them to someone who didn’t understand the art of music.
Though this bamboo flute wasn’t a high-grade magical artifact, it had the advantage of being small and adorable in appearance. A suitor had gifted it to her, and she had accepted it casually, never playing it herself.
When someone came to borrow an instrument, she subconsciously handed over this unused "showpiece."
She hadn’t known it had such a tone.
The sound was too soft and ethereal, utterly incapable of suppressing the sprites—instead, it seemed to accompany their singing.
Earlier, the pieces they had played were mostly urgent and impassioned, yet the sprites were almost unaffected.
Under the interference of the sprites' singing, the Celestial Sound Technique offered limited assistance to martial and spell cultivators, at most helping to regulate their breathing.
Song Qianji tested a few notes but seemed quite satisfied with the tone and began playing directly.
The flute’s melody flew out, gentle and elusive, like a babbling spring stream bathed in moonlight. Ripples shimmered with silvery fragments, clear springs tapping against stones, producing a tinkling, rhythmic sound.
Leveraging this "spring water momentum," the sprites' singing climbed higher and higher, growing increasingly shrill, their attacks more ferocious.
Mu Xia gasped in alarm and hurriedly reinforced her defenses with a new stack of talismans, as a sprite’s claws nearly tore through her protective shield.
The pressure intensified at the other star positions as well.
Liu San shouted, "Brother Song, maybe we should stop playing this thing—it’s just riling them up!"
Song Qianji paid no heed, focused solely on playing the flute.
The sprites’ frenzy became fully apparent: their claws and fangs lengthened, their hair whipping like lashes.
Groans of suffering filled the formation. The offerings cursed loudly, the rogue cultivators grumbled, and the female cultivators complained incessantly.
He Yun concentrated, listening carefully for a moment, and her expression shifted from peculiar and worried to astonished and delighted.
"Marvelous," her thin lips beneath the veil whispered the two words.
With that, she sat cross-legged on the ground, summoning a zither to rest across her knees.
"Zheng!"
A single, gentle and melodious note rang out.
This wasn’t her zither, but she was confident she could play it well.
At this moment, every female cultivator from the Celestial Sound Sect in the cave had received her guidance while practicing the zither.
The zither’s melody intentionally harmonized, guided by the flute’s tune, gradually blending together.
Song Qianji, busy playing the flute, couldn’t speak and could only communicate via spirit qi.
Thus, He Yun heard that person’s voice speak calmly, as if standing behind her:
"Ignore the noise, just harmonize with my melody."
She settled her mind.
The singing was noise, her companions’ shouts were noise, the sounds of wind, water, trees, and combat were all noise.
In her world, suddenly, she could only hear that person playing the flute.
The zither’s music flowed forth.
If the flute’s sound was like moonlight on a spring stream, the zither’s melody was like blossoms falling upon the water, ethereal and delicate.
"Is this the time to play music? One musician is already enough to handle..." Old Zheng’s words were cut short as one of his twin maces was knocked from his hand, leaving him wide open.
A sprite was right in front of him, and he expected to take a solid blow, breaking several bones, but the sprite he was fighting suddenly turned and bit the neck of its kin.
Yin Zhu exclaimed, "This music has driven them completely mad!"Some sprites completely lost their sanity, fighting without rules or discipline as if they couldn't feel pain, attacking each other with the most vicious and cruel techniques.
Another, more frenzied group assaulted the formation directly.
Mu Xia immediately summoned her konghou, harmonizing with the flute and zither.
The music swelled like a spring breeze sweeping across mountain fields.
In the vast night, heavy dark clouds were gently parted by the wind, revealing the bright moonlight.
After playing through the melody once, Song Qianji realized the female cultivator playing the zither was highly intelligent and perceptive, requiring no further instruction from him.
He set down his bamboo flute, feigning exhaustion.
The konghou and zither continued playing, mastering the melody by the second repetition and gradually reaching perfection.
The sprites attacking each other suffered heavy casualties, boosting the morale of those within the formation.
Old Zheng laughed heartily: "If we survive tonight, it means the seven of us combined are worth one Ziye Wenshu!"
Liu San declared: "Well said! When we travel through the Cultivation World in the future, our names will command respect." He quickly corrected himself, "Ah, including our brave ladies."
"Many thanks to both fairies," Hanbi called toward He Yun and Mu Xia, "Today we witnessed the true prowess of the Celestial Sound Sect—truly remarkable."
Adversity had turned into advantage, shared hardship into collective triumph. Overwhelming achievement and joy flooded everyone present.
Those they'd normally find irritating in countless ways now seemed agreeable from every angle.
Noticing no movement from Song Qianji's star position, they grew most concerned about him.
Old Zheng asked: "Brother Song, you've been maintaining the formation and working all night for everyone. Can you still hold on?"
Liu San added: "Just hang on a bit longer, Brother Song. Dawn is approaching. Boss Yan has hidden a jar of Great Deduction Sect's 'Purple Jade Brew'—I'll steal it to treat you!"
"Why not invite us sisters?" Yin Zhu teased, "The two fairies from Celestial Sound Sect worked just as hard. Won't you invite them? Brother Song, their cave reeks—just a bunch of smelly men. You should come to our place instead, enjoy some spirit tea and flower scents."
Amid heated battle, everyone joked freely without restraint.
Before dawn arrived, the formation defenders' Spirit Qi neared depletion. Their faces were pale, but their eyes burned like starlight.
A sharp shriek sounded. Under their leader's command, the sprites gradually regained their senses and retreated prematurely.
The dawn breeze swept across the battlefield littered with dismembered corpses and limbs.
The blood-soaked night concluded with everyone returning richly rewarded.
Martial and spell cultivators gained advancements in combat techniques, while sound cultivators acquired a new musical composition.
Song Qianji had already dismantled the formation.
Though physically exhausted to the extreme, everyone remained too mentally exhilarated to leave, conversing like long-lost comrades about their shared battle experiences.
Liu San tried to drag Song Qianji off for drinks. Using his scabbard to clear away the expended formation materials, Song Qianji declined:
"I need to clean up here. Everyone should rest first—tomorrow night brings another fierce battle."
Throughout the night, his Snow Blade had remained sheathed.
The group bid farewell in succession, eager to return for meditation recovery, contemplation of insights, and boasting to fellow disciples.
Moments later, Song Qianji heard footsteps approaching from behind.
It was the Fairy Sound Sect female cultivator returning.
She stood amidst the ravaged battlefield, her skirt stained with blood like a withered flower.
"Fair one, the bamboo flute has been returned to its owner."
The female cultivator shook her head: "I didn't come for the flute."
Through the veil, Song Qianji couldn't see her face, but sensed her unstable aura—likely from the night's extreme exhaustion.
If not for the flute, then what?
"This short flute is for you," He Yun said.
Song Qianji smiled slightly, his tone carrying consolation: "No need. I have no use for it anymore.""You mean, from now on, you won’t play that tune anymore?!"
Her voice suddenly rose sharply, as if she had suffered a great blow, and her figure swayed unsteadily.
Song Qianji was taken aback, blinking: "It’s just a tune, improvised on a whim, and forgotten when the mood passes. Why cling to it?"
"Just a tune... why cling to it, why cling to it," the female cultivator murmured repeatedly.
Though they stood two zhang apart, Song Qianji felt an overwhelming surge of sorrow, unwillingness, and resentment emanating from her.
"Does it have a name?" the female cultivator asked.
Song Qianji gazed at the moon and thought for a moment: "Let’s call it ‘Flowers, Moon, and Falling Clouds.’"
Since he had entered the secret realm, he had drifted farther from the fields and closer to his past life. Only the moon in the sky remained, following him from a distance neither too far nor too near.
"‘Flowers, Moon, and Falling Clouds’—a fine name," the female cultivator said.
She lowered her head, and in the blink of an eye, tears suddenly fell.
The desolate and boundless melody of wind and snow breaking the formation had been the inner demon that trapped her in a self-made prison.
The tender and gentle melody of flowers and moonlight piercing the clouds had been the moonlight that saved her from the brink of death.
Two utterly different tunes, yet they should have come from the same hand.
The master-disciple relationship had grown cold and rigid, followed by a great upheaval in the sect. She had rushed into the secret realm in haste, facing danger at every step, unable to sleep night after night.
Until tonight, when someone said: "Do not heed the noise."
"What’s wrong, Fairy?" Song Qianji was startled and somewhat afraid.
Why did she suddenly start crying when they were having a perfectly fine conversation?
Could it be that I’ve run into a scammer?
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