Whether in Thousand Canals or outside of it, one could always look up to see the same night sky, the same bright moon.
Tonight, the moon was astonishingly bright, especially over the vast, snowy plains.
The closer they got to the continent's end, the lower the temperature dropped. If not for the spiritual energy protection of cultivators, their blood would have frozen solid.
After crossing the snowy mountains, Song Qianji descended from his Flying Sword, giving up the fight against the increasingly violent fierce wind. He needed to conserve his Spirit Qi for the final battle.
On this snowy plain devoid of people, beasts, flowers, or any living thing, two figures were trekking under the moon.
Xian Jianchen, draped in a black, cold-resistant cloak, was taking good care of himself. He even leaned on Song Qianji's shoulder to save energy.
Song Qianji, dressed in a simple white robe, used his Shadowless Sword as a snow staff, almost blending in with the white snow.
Their footprints, deep and shallow, wound forward like a small stream, glittering under the moonlight.
"Disciple, you haven't finished that story you were telling. What happened after they reached the West?"
"Of course, they obtained the true scriptures, enlightened all living beings, and then ascended to the Immortal Rank." For the twentieth time, Song Qianji swatted the hand off his shoulder.
"A few scrolls of true scriptures can enlighten all living beings? Look at the state of the world now, do they look enlightened? They went through all that trouble just to ascend to the Immortal Rank?"
Song Qianji was speechless. "It's a virtue not to nitpick when listening to a story."
Xian Jianchen once again placed his hand on Song Qianji's shoulder. "Your master just feels that after enduring eighty-one tribulations, only to end up ascending to immortality or attaining Nirvana and becoming a Buddha is too much of a pity, too anticlimactic, too boring."
Song Qianji thought for a moment. "That's true. If it were me, after all the hardships of reaching the West, once I'd accomplished my mission and retired, I'd definitely find a good plot of land and bury my head in farming for ten, eight, or twenty years. I wouldn't leave even if the Jade Emperor himself came. I'd have a good, long indulgence."
Xian Jianchen was silent for a long while. "...You're not old, but your cravings are quite something."
Song Qianji said, "Don't pull the age card on me. Let go!"
"You brat, who are you calling old! I won't let go!"
"Ah, look! What's that up ahead!"
"Nice try. There isn't even a chicken feather in this godforsaken place—Ah!" Xian Jianchen leaped up.
His hand was still on Song Qianji, who was nearly pulled down with him.
At the edge of their vision, on the moonlit horizon, countless ice sculptures abruptly stood tall.
From a distance, they resembled a forest of crystal trees, of varying heights, reflecting a fluorescent glow.
Song Qianji and Xian Jianchen stopped their childish bickering, their smiles gradually fading.
The cluster of ice sculptures stretched on, like a transparent long dike blocking their path.
They had no choice but to continue forward.
The closer they got, the clearer the sculptures became. Each statue was as tall as a person, with blurred features and different postures. Some were standing, others sitting in meditation, but all held their hands together in a prayer gesture, exuding a terrifying aura.
"What are these?" Song Qianji murmured.
He had come this way in his past life but had never seen these things.
Xian Jianchen sneered, "With his temperament, knowing we're coming to kill him, would he just sit and wait for death?"
Song Qianji said, "But I've already slain all his incarnations."
Xian Jianchen's expression turned grave. "These are not incarnations. They are people."
As soon as he finished speaking, a crisp "crack" was heard.
An ice sculpture actually split open with a fissure that ran from head to foot.
Crash!
The cracks spread rapidly. The ice sculptures shattered one after another, the crisp cracking sounds echoing across the silent, snowy plains in the dead of night, like a pack of wild beasts breaking out of their shells.
A chill ran down Song Qianji's spine, and he couldn't help but frown. "You said they are people?"
Before Xian Jianchen could answer, the group of statues began to move. Shedding their icy shells, they revealed their facial features, skin, clothing, hands, and feet.
They were a group of cultivators dressed as monks.
They wore not the usual apricot-colored robes or gold-and-red kasayas, but black kasayas.
On the white snow, a group of black shadows stretched their torsos like ghosts, brushing off the ice chips as their stiff bodies gradually regained flexibility.
Xian Jianchen said, "He's been 'Wu Xiang' for so many years, preaching scriptures and expounding the Dharma, gaining a far-reaching reputation for being virtuous and respected. Alas, for the past two hundred years, I've suspected almost everyone, hunting down his avatars everywhere. I never thought Wu Xiang was one of them."
How good was Wu Xiang's reputation?
The entire Cultivation World knew him to be compassionate. Jiangyun had sought him out to heal He Qingqing's face, and Xu Yun had asked him to tell Chen Hongzhu's fortune. When Song Qianji was unconscious after an assassination attempt, Ji Chen had heard he was visiting and immediately invited him in.
Reputation was an invisible sword.
Song Qianji called out loudly, "Who are you all? Why do you block our path here?"
"Amitabha." The monk at the very front put his hands together and bowed slightly, his attitude polite. "We are followers of Wu Xiang. The Master sent us to wait here to intercept and kill you two."
Song Qianji said, "There is no Master. He's a madman who wants to destroy the world. You've all been deceived by him!"
Xian Jianchen just shook his head and sighed. "It's useless. He's a master of bewitching people's hearts."
"Activate the formation!" the leading monk commanded.
The followers chanted scriptures in unison, and their black kasayas burst forth with a scarlet glow.
A fierce wind suddenly whipped up, and sinister, treacherous auras rose from their bodies.
Powdered snow swirled up from the ground, forming a tornado that rushed toward Xian Jianchen and Song Qianji.
Each snowflake was as sharp as a blade. Song Qianji raised his Spring and Autumn Sword, forming a sword energy barrier to shield Xian Jianchen.
"We have long awaited you here, trapping ourselves in ice and snow, all to merge our very lives with the snowy plains and borrow its power to lay this formation. Benefactors, you will not pass tonight."
Song Qianji found it absurd. "I have no grievance or enmity with any of you. Why are you so willing to throw away your lives?"
His voice could not penetrate the blizzard and dissipated in an instant.
The sun and moon were blotted out. Only the sound of chanting grew louder, echoing across the snowy plains.
The two were trapped in the eye of the storm, surrounded by sharp snowflakes that closed in like walls of iron and bronze.
The chanting gave Song Qianji a headache. "What are they reciting! What's this 'What joy is there in life, what bitterness in death? To sacrifice oneself for the cause is a worthy end'? What has Wu Xiang been teaching them?"
Xian Jianchen sighed. "The scriptures Wu Xiang preaches, how could they be proper true scriptures? This must be a doctrine he wrote himself. The power of faith and vows in Thousand Canals condensed into luck and became your shield. These followers fanatically believe in him, and so they have become the spear in his hand."
Song Qianji summoned the River-Crossing Sword, which was meant for sailing against the current, and buried his head in hacking a path forward, protecting Xian Jianchen.
The slashes from his sword struck the raging snow on all sides. In response, wounds split open on the followers' bodies, and fresh blood dripped from their black kasayas onto the snow.
Seeing this, Song Qianji knew they weren't bluffing. "Can't you be reasonable? Just listen to me for a moment!"
The followers remained expressionless, their eyes vacant, as they continued to chant:
"In the vast white snow, our bodies we entrust. The old world is dead, a new one must be built."
The sound was like a demonic incantation pouring into his ears.
Song Qianji's ferocity was provoked. "You want to wear me down? Before this formation does, you might be the ones to die first."
But the leading monk said, "As long as we have a single breath left, we swear to stop you."
Song Qianji's heart sank.
Seeking advantage, avoiding harm, and the desire to live were human nature. To overcome such instincts could never be achieved by external force alone.
Thousand Canals was strong because of the power of faith and vows. To protect their home, weak mortals dared to resist powerful cultivators.
The cultivators from the Immortal Alliance who attacked Thousand Canals and hunted them, whether driven by greed, power, or hatred, no matter how crazed, still cherished their lives.
Who would want to die if they could live? A few recitations of "as long as the green hills remain, there'll be no lack of firewood" or "it's never too late for a gentleman to take revenge" and they would come around.
But the group before him had cast aside life and death, viewing martyrdom as an honor.
If greed and desire could not overcome the power of faith, could faith overcome faith?
Would the spear pierce the shield, or would the shield block the spear?
Song Qianji cursed Wu Xiang for harming people, cursed desire for harming people, and then barked at Xian Jianchen, "These are the most difficult enemies yet. Are you still not going to make a move?"
Xian Jianchen shook his head. "Hard to say. You should take another sword."
Song Qianji caught the hilt of the flying sword, his wrist trembling instinctively. "Why is it so cold! Don't you have a warmer one?"
Snow and wind already covered their heads. The moment this sword was unsheathed, a biting chill emanated from it, making a bad situation worse.
"This sword is named 'Truth-Breaking.' It can help its wielder see through illusions. This formation is powerful because it's enhanced by the power of faith and vows. Other swords won't be effective, but this one is the most suitable. However, when you wield it, you must temporarily let go of your chaotic thoughts and abundant emotions." Xian Jianchen's tone shifted. "Can you do it? If you can't, your master is preparing to flee for his life."
Song Qianji took a deep breath. "Recite the mantra!"
The curtain of wind and snow on all sides grew stronger. Every full-powered strike he made could only leave a shallow mark.
Like a bamboo sword failing to pierce an iron wall, Song Qianji was forced onto the defensive.
Xian Jianchen said, "There's no mantra. First, imagine you are made of ice and snow, detached from all the joys and sorrows of the world. You understand right and wrong, your will is firm, but you lack the comprehension of intense emotions..."
"What is this nonsense?" The more Song Qianji listened, the more abstract and incomprehensible it sounded. "What great sin did I commit to be cramming at the last minute in a death formation like this?"
"First, think of something happy. The fact that we've run into this formation means he has no more cards to play."
They had successfully shaken off the pursuit of the orthodox Immortal Alliance, forcing the enemy behind the scenes to use his final, most powerful asset.
"You have a point," Song Qianji agreed. "Let's talk more about this sword."
Though they had bickered all the way, they had also built up a great deal of tacit understanding.
No matter what perilous situation they faced, they could always find joy in their suffering.
Who said the journey to the West had to be nothing but pain?
Xian Jianchen said, "Well, the material it was forged from is very special. It shares the same origin as Green Cliff's 'Snow blade'."
Song Qianji cursed. "Why didn't you say so earlier!"
Xian Jianchen asked, "Is that important?"
Song Qianji closed his eyes and began to recall the feeling of using the Snow blade.
...
The night had deepened, and thick clouds obscured the bright moon.
The lights of the Cloud Ship above Hongfu Prefecture had been extinguished; heaven and earth were equally dark.
From the depths of the night, a crimson glow suddenly lit up, streaking across the sky like a meteor with a long tail.
People on the ground looked up one after another.
"How can a meteor be so bright and so red?"
"That's the Celestial Sound Sect's Jet-Black Gold Carriage. Is Fairy He really going to the Huawel Sect?"
He Qingqing sat in the magnificent Jet-Black Gold Carriage, her eyes closed in a feigned rest, until the cloud carriage came to a stop.
"Sect Master, someone is blocking the way ahead!" the young disciple driving the carriage reported from inside.
He Qingqing lifted her eyelids, her gaze passing through the hanging turquoise gauze curtains.
She saw that the woman blocking the road was dressed in a sharp, red combat attire. Her waist was trim, her legs long and powerful, and she rode a beautiful longsword.
Chen Hongzhu, with her "Hundred Flowers Killer," had single-handedly stopped He Qingqing's Jet-Black Gold Carriage.
"Miss He..."
A Celestial Sound disciple immediately shouted, "Our Sect Master is here! Fairy Chen, why are you being so rude!"
Chen Hongzhu was taken aback for a moment, then corrected herself, "Sect Master He."
The Celestial Sound disciples wore unfriendly expressions, their five fingers tense as they held their zithers, lutes, and other instruments.
Chen Hongzhu's gaze pierced through the gently swaying turquoise gauze, fixing on the slender figure behind it.
"We meet again," a cool female voice came from behind the gauze. "I am on my way to treat your father. Why are you blocking my path here?"
"Sect Master He, I have a few words I'd like to say to you!" Chen Hongzhu said.
"Oh?" the woman replied faintly. "Then get in the carriage."
The Jet-Black Gold Carriage shone brilliantly in the dark night. In the past, Fairy Miaoyan had ridden in such a carriage.
The one He Qingqing rode in now was even larger and more magnificent, like a palace in the clouds, exuding a cold aura.
A beauty in a luxurious carriage—ninety-nine percent of the cultivators in this world would kill for a chance to sit inside.
But Chen Hongzhu said, "I will not get in. I must ask you to come down and speak with me."
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