"He Qingqing." Someone softly repeated the name, lost in thought, then smiled and asked the person beside him, "Does Senior Brother Ziye still remember this person?"
Not far from the deep pool, a mountain pavilion stood alone on a sheer cliff, facing the cascading waterfall from afar.
Invited by Yuan Qingshi, the head disciple of Huawel Sect, the Courtyard Overseer of Azure Cliff Academy, the head disciple of Dayan Sect, and the direct disciple of the Purple Cloud Temple's master had gathered in this pavilion for tea.
The pavilion's location was perfect. They could clearly see the poolside and hear the zither music from above, yet remain undisturbed.
Listening to music was an elegant pursuit, and elegant pursuits deserved refined moods.
While the other three wore bright attire and chatted merrily, Ziye Wenshu remained clad in his usual black robes.
"I heard you rescued her from the Demon Cave and sent her to Azure Cliff Academy," the person continued.
Upon hearing this, Ziye Wenshu furrowed his brow in contemplation.
Students at the academy often said that one glance at Overseer Ziye during hot summer days could cool and refresh the spirit.
With high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, thick long eyelashes, thin lips, and unusually pale skin, his handsome features lacked human warmth, resembling a solemn divine statue.
Yuan Qingshi, disliking awkward silences, smoothly intervened: "Brother Ziye handles important matters. It would be too taxing to expect him to remember every detail."
He understood well. As head disciple of Huawel Sect, merely recognizing every direct disciple was challenging enough.
Moreover, between Ziye Wenshu and this person lay the difference between heaven and earth—forgetting her was only natural.
Ziye Wenshu finally recalled something, his sword-like eyebrows lifting slightly: "It's her. Why is she here?"
The memory of a frail, thin girl had grown taller.
"She's here for the Music Examination—to play the zither, of course," someone complained, shaking their head. "I thought after Fairy Mengzhi, it would be Fairy Miaoyan's turn. Who knew we'd have to wait longer?"
Observing Ziye Wenshu's unchanged expression, Yuan Qingshi couldn't resist asking:
"What does Brother Ziye think? After hearing Fairy Mengzhi's 'Phoenix Paying Homage to the Birds,' were you moved?"
Ziye Wenshu stood on the verge of a breakthrough but remained trapped.
Otherwise, his aura wouldn't have uncontrollably surged and clashed with Meng Heze in the Yaoguang Lake pavilion.
Yuan Qingshi and the others believed that listening to Sound Cultivators play might help regulate Spirit Qi and grasp a thread of breakthrough insight.
Ziye Wenshu shook his head: "My killing intent is too heavy. I'm inherently unsuited for listening to zither music."
"Not necessarily—that's only because you haven't heard Fairy Miaoyan play. Ordinary music is far incomparable," Yuan Qingshi said with a laugh. "When the fairy played for my master in the past, I happened to be serving tea nearby and benefited greatly..."
"My apologies, I must step away briefly." Before finishing, Yuan Qingshi spotted something, his smile vanishing as he rose and left the pavilion.
He walked into the woods, stopping beneath an ancient tree and patting its trunk: "Get down here now!"
Chen Hongzhu leaped down from the branches, grinning: "What is it, Senior Brother?"
Yuan Qingshi frowned: "Why are you here?"
He glanced toward the bamboo tower where Miaoyan resided, then toward the pavilion at the pool's center, warning in a low voice: "The one from Celestial Sound Sect is here. Don't you dare cause any trouble in his presence!"
Outsiders only knew the Calligrapher Sage had come to the Grand Assembly of Distinguished Appraisals, unaware that the Chess Devil and Qin Xian were also present.
Of the world's four supreme experts, three had already arrived at this assembly, causing True Person Xuyun and Huawel Sect's leadership considerable anxiety.
If those three were to meet and clash at Huawel Sect over disagreements, what chaos might ensue?"I know!" Chen Hongzhu said angrily, "Senior brother, what are you thinking? I may not like Miaoyan, but I wouldn't come here to harm her, would I? I'm not even here to see her!"
"Then who are you here for?" Yuan Qingshi hesitated. "After Mengzhi Fairy finished her performance, the Music Examination is about to conclude. Only Miaoyan hasn't played yet. Today is important for her, you can't..."
Chen Hongzhu raised her hand, pointing toward the pondside: "Who said it's concluding?! Didn't this person just come up?"
Yuan Qingshi looked confused: "You know this person?"
He had only heard of He Qingqing's name in passing - someone Ziye Wenshu brought back to the academy, then promptly forgot about.
Moreover, Chen Hongzhu never had any friends.
"Don't worry about this." Chen Hongzhu nodded.
Of course they knew each other.
They had waited together at the Song Courtyard gate - basking in moonlight, dozing off, enjoying the night breeze while waiting for someone.
Who would have thought that person would go down the mountain at midnight, pawn their own sword, and exchange it for a Green Ripple Platform.
Chen Hongzhu just wanted to hear what kind of melody could be played on this zither.
Yuan Qingshi regained his smile: "Alright, as long as you're not here to cause trouble, of course I won't interfere!"
Chen Hongzhu looked at the slender figure by the pond, thinking: You're playing after Mengzhi but before Miaoyan. In this situation, just daring to play means you've already won, right?
※※※
He Qingqing had already decided earlier - this was her own battle. Even if that person didn't come, she would still give it her all.
But when she actually walked into the center of ten thousand people, surrounded by cold stares from the crowd, she still felt that "drawing my sword and gazing around, my heart in a daze" sensation.
"Clap, clap, clap."
Suddenly, clear applause broke the silence.
According to the Music Examination's unwritten rules, every performer should receive applause when taking the stage - both to thank the previous performer and welcome the current one.
But Mengzhi Fairy's "Phoenix Paying Homage to the Birds" had been too magnificent, leaving the audience spellbound. Who remembered to applaud for He Qingqing?
Only when someone took the lead did sparse, perfunctory applause ripple around the Green Stone Pond, carrying hints of impatience.
He Qingqing turned sharply.
Through a layer of white gauze and across the sea of people, she saw that figure standing at the very back of the crowd.
—Towering a head above those around him, standing out like a crane among chickens, with a gentle smile.
He actually came.
And he's applauding for me.
Like an immovable pillar settling deep in her heart's lake, He Qingqing lifted her head and took a deep breath.
As dusk enveloped everything, she sat cross-legged on the green stone by the pond, placing the zither on her knees.
Suddenly she felt there had never been a moment in her life better than this one.
The Green Ripple Platform glowed with emerald light, reflecting the pond's jade waves and the setting sun, illuminating her slender yet resilient fingers.
He Qingqing pressed down on the strings.
"Zheng!"
A powerful note, like a sword leaving its scabbard, reverberated endlessly.
The audience's spirits lifted, as if seeing a brilliant sword light slash through the air, piercing directly toward the setting sun!
"Zheng! Zheng! Zheng!"
He Qingqing's finger technique unchanged, three more sword-cry notes followed.
The lingering shadows of the previously magnificent birds and flowers were shattered by three sword lights, instantly vanishing without trace.
In the bamboo tower, Miaoyan froze slightly, her smile frozen at the corner of her mouth.
This wasn't the piece she had written. She would never place the strongest notes at the beginning.
After this stunning opening, the music flowed smoothly, like a roaring torrent rushing forth, as if thousands of troops were charging while ten thousand horses fell silent.
The sound fell into the water, making the pond tremble, creating thousands of layers of snowy waves.From the pond's edge to the hillside, the listeners were deeply shaken, rendered speechless.
In the pavilion at the pond's center, Wangshu wore an expression of astonishment. Who was this person's master? Though her cultivation was low, how could she play so exquisitely?
Jiangyun stared intently at the young woman playing the zither, as if trying to peer through the veil of her hat to see her very organs.
Gradually the music softened, taking light, brief turns as the iron cavalry and clashing weapons faded into the distance.
The listeners' tense nerves relaxed slightly, only to be caught by melancholic, twisting melodies that unfolded like a vast landscape before their eyes—willows shading bright flowers, majestic rivers and mountains.
The sunset glow dissipated as night fell, bringing a gentle evening breeze.
The zither's notes drifted with the mountain wind—into deep valleys, up sheer cliffs, through dense forests.
Beastly roars answered one after another, echoing like questions and responses.
The music transformed into magnificent splendor, carrying the imposing aura of a monarch that summoned hundreds of beasts to pay homage.
Sounds of birds flapping wings, feathers cutting through air, tigers leaping through forests, turtles and crocodiles slapping water...
Countless living creatures of the Huawel Sect joined in performing this melody!
He Qingqing nearly forgot she was playing, her entire being submerged in the music—seeing neither the crowd nor the beasts.
Between heaven and earth, boundless and infinite, she stood alone.
As the music soared toward the clouds, the listeners screamed inwardly.
Suddenly the melody plunged downward, growing lower and lower like a north wind wailing over a snowy wilderness.
Their silent screams ceased as they followed the mournful, desolate music deep into the snowfield.
Unconsciously, chills spread through their bodies.
Chen Hongzhu listened blankly, as if seeing countless nights where she sat by the Fleeting Water Bridge, swinging her legs, pricking her fingertip to drip blood and feed the five-colored carps.
Amid churning clouds, schools of five-colored carps swam—while she remained alone.
Ziye Wenshu closed his eyes.
He hazily returned to the Demon Cave of the Western Sea, where the path ahead was dark and there was no retreat behind.
Endless bloodshed, endless demon slaying.
Miaoyan had forgotten how to smile, forgotten where she was or what she should be doing.
She saw a little girl lost deep in the Huawel Sect's back mountains at night.
As the north wind howled, the shivering girl climbed upward along stone steps.
Who was this? Why had no one come to find her?
Ah, it was herself.
Song Qianji...
Song Qianji saw nothing.
He looked up at the moon.
Tonight's moon was large and round, like a valuable silver plate.
He thought, Did I really compose this melody?
It's played rather well.
At the peak of sorrow, the music took an unexpected turn.
The night wind howled, thick clouds obscuring the bright moon.
The zither's notes suddenly intensified.
"Twang!"—the first string of the seven-stringed zither on the Green Ripple Platform snapped.
Like this instrument, He Qingqing had reached her limit—Spirit Qi depleted, Meridians strained beyond endurance.
Unyielding, she drove the music higher again—another string snapped!
Cracks appeared on rocks by the pond as the waterfall roared violently.
The listeners stood stunned and soul-struck, as if hit by world-obliterating force.
He Qingqing grunted, spitting blood, and jerked her head upward.
Clouds parted.
Moon emerged.
A beam of silvery, brilliant moonlight showered from the heavens upon her!
The music ceased abruptly.
Utter silence fell. With the zither music gone, the waterfall's sound seemed faint.
The starry sky reflected in the water pond, glittering with ripples.
Someone touched their face and found it wet with tears.
Looking around, they realized everyone had been weeping for some time.
A shout echoed from the cliff: "Brother Ziye is about to break through!"
Heaven and earth's Spirit Qi converged here, forming an invisible vortex.
The crowd, immersed in the music's profound state, naturally began absorbing and circulating the shifting spiritual energy.Enlightenment strikes in an instant—some find their bottlenecks loosened, others advance in cultivation.
He Qingqing rose from the stone, still holding her qin, her fingertips trembling.
She only practiced in secluded, uninhabited places, and never had she played like this before.
Her ten fingers throbbed with pain, her meridians nearly ruptured.
"Thank you, Immortal Maiden!" someone shouted first.
"The Immortal Maiden's righteousness is profound!"
Thanks and praises surged like tidal waves, overwhelming her.
Up in the bamboo tower, Miaoyan snapped back to reality and silently closed her qin case.
She need not play tonight—no, perhaps not for even longer.
With the bright moon shining ahead, why compete for its brilliance?
In the pavilion at the heart of the pond, Qin Xian opened his eyes:
"Her skill with the qin is fine, but the melody is even rarer. I haven’t heard such a fine piece in over two hundred years."
"Indeed," the crowd chimed in agreement.
"What did you perceive from this piece?" Qin Xian suddenly asked.
Wangshu’s face paled slightly: "Though the opening carries sorrow, it is not lamentation but a gathering of momentum, as if awaiting an east wind to soar to great heights. Yet the ending seems ill-fated."
Qin Xian nodded.
Jiangyun pondered and said, "This piece is divided into three movements—beginning, middle, and end—likely composed based on someone’s life experiences."
Then Qin Xian spoke slowly:
"In youth, alone and destitute, practicing the sword by day, studying by midnight."
"Dust swept away, light born, the sword unsheathed, contending for the world."
"A legacy spanning millennia, ambushed on all sides, a hero at his end."
"Three days and nights of wind and snow, one 'Battle Array Tune,' capturing an entire lifetime. This must be a melody written by the dead—but how can the dead compose? Strange! Now I wish to know who created this piece." He murmured to himself, seemingly lost in thought.
Silence filled the pavilion; no one dared disturb his contemplation.
After a long while, Qin Xian beckoned toward the pond’s edge and smiled gently. "Little girl, please step forward."
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