Chapter 47: Chapter 47

As Xiaohui steps closer and into the clearing, I get a better look at the two cultivators. On the very periphery of my perception radius and without my active consciousness blanketing the area — so as not to give away our presence through my [Tyranny] — I could not see them clearly.

Now that I do, I realize why one of them felt familiar. It is Zhao Wei.

Standing next to the other individual, Zhao Wei, with his short black hair and wide face, looked insignificant and unattractive. Even by normal standards of the meat society one could consider Zhao Wei to be attractive. Yet the man next to him, in the black Taoist robes, steals his glory.

His hair is a deep black and his eyes are light blue. He stands about a head taller than Zhao Wei who is about the same height as Lan Xiaohui. For cultivators, appearance is an indicator of the depth of their cultivation and the profoundness of their Dao. This is not always the case, but there is a commonality that is statistically significant. In the pursuit of a deeper cultivation, the body expels impurities which inevitably affects appearance. Whether it is smooth, beautiful skin, or the overworked so-called jade-like appearance.

I myself see no connections between jade and, say, Lan Xiaohui, but I do remember a passage in the Heaven and Earth Qi Rotation method that claims that continued cultivation will give “pale, jade-like skin”.

I find no fascination in appearance. Pretty or ugly does not matter to me or the Dao.

“This is her, brother,” Zhao Wei says to his companion and points towards Lan Xiaohui.

The man nods, turning to look at Lan Xiaohui, and I can clearly see that he recognizes her. Lan Xiaohui, on the other hand, does not show any indicators of recognition, except when she looks at Zhao Wei, and her lips quirk into a slight frown.

Lan Xiaohui must’ve been famous in her sect, for one reason or another. Whether it is envy or ridicule at the path her life took. Earlier Zhao Wei mentioned the Black Tiger Peak and the White Raven Peak — I am not sure what these mean, but if the Black Tiger takes his name from his “Peak” then he must be a famous individual. He is also the Grandson of the Sect Master, which also, likely, gives him great influence. But this is just conjecture at this point.

“Lan Xiaohui, I am surprised to see you alive,” the man says — he seems to only be a year or so older than Lan Xiaohui, though guessing the age of cultivators is always risky business. “Last I heard, you had your cultivation broken and that you were exiled for being unfaithful.”

Lan Xiaohui’s eyes narrow to thin slits at the words “unfaithful”.

“But it seems the Black Tiger has been merciful, allowing you to keep your Foundation,” the man continues while Zhao Wei nods in agreement.

The Black Tiger has not been merciful. He did shatter her cultivation. If they only knew that not so long ago, she was in the Qi Condensation realm and had given up on life.

Wukong gave me a greater gift than only his Blood Points. Wukong was a good companion. I miss him.

“To think you would betray the sect again, after you were shown mercy, and attack Zhao Wei on the road. You are despicable.”

Lan Xiaohui smiles. Even now, I feel that she does not regret letting Zhao Wei live. “Is that what brother Zhao told you? That I attacked him?”

The man tilts his head. “What is the point of lying now? Zhao Wei is an honorable character. You are a former, disloyal concubine.” The man reaches for his sword, slowly freeing it from his sash.

Zhao Wei also reaches for his sword, except that he withdraws it from the ring on his left hand. I see a brief flash of a spell formation appear, and the sword materializes from it. Interesting.

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“For all I care, Lan Xiaohui, you may die in ignominy. I have nothing to do with you and no desire to send you to hell. Just give me the treasure you found here and I will let you leave.”

As he speaks, a snowflake lands on the tip of his sword, and it is immediately shredded. I hear that sword sing with the reverberations of sword Qi that it contains.

“What is your name, fellow brother?” Lan Xiaohui asks.

The man quirks an eyebrow at Lan Xiaohui. “I am Li Feng, second son of the Li family. If you know anything of the world, you will know that you have no choice but to obey my will.”

Lan Xiaohui smiles and nods. Slowly, she draws me from her sash. “I have nothing to do with you, either, Li Feng. Still, I have no desire to let you leave, anymore.”

Li Feng laughs at her words. “Good! Good!” he exclaims, sarcasm lacing his words like poison.

Zhao Wei hisses like a snake. “Don’t you know who this is, Lan Xiaohui?!”

Lan Xiaohui casts a glance at Zhao Wei and then looks away. “Brother Zhao Wei, you repaired my favorite dress and gave me wine and the warmth of a fire. I enjoyed our conversation too. That is the only reason I let you live.” Zhao Wei appears even more agitated as Lan Xiaohui barely even recognizes his existence. “This time I won’t be so merciful,” she adds.

“You dare talk like a master just because you comprehended a little bit of sword Qi! I bet this is something Yu Shun taught you when you were his little pet.” Despite his words, Zhao Wei took a step back. “I hope young master Li goes easy on you, so that I can kill you myself.”

His words fail to reach Lan Xiaohui. Her heart is steady and solid. She has only eyes for Li Feng. She searches his person with our shared perception, analyzing his robes for enchantments and identifying the weak points.

Through her connection with me, she can get a glimpse of his surface thoughts which lay bare to me like an unencrypted document. Li Feng does not take her seriously. But that is not a good thing. Against someone who is not worthy of his sword, Li Feng has no intention to play around — he will kill Lan Xiaohui in one move.

Li Feng would make for a good master candidate under any other circumstance. He has the intensity of pursuing the Dao and the means and reputation to advance quickly. But he, too, is flawed. He truly is a demonic cultivator, because even deep in his heart is the devil of narcissism. Even if he had a thousand years, he would never reach the apex.

“If it is sword Qi that makes you so brave, Lan Xiaohui, allow me to demonstrate the gap between us,” Li Feng says and raises his sword.

A pure and powerful burst of sword energy — blue and gold — emits from the sword like a fog and within it are countless stars of pure and refined sword Qi. As the snowflakes land on the sword Qi stars, they are cut apart and shredded, as if caught in a vortex made of invisible blades.

“What do you say, Lan Xiaohui,” Li Feng says, not looking away from her. “Will you surrender or die?”

Lan Xiaohui glances at the burst of sword energy and sword Qi and frowns. She picks her words like they are poisons. “I say you should apologize to your ancestors when I send you to meet them.”

Li Feng’s eyes narrow and his lips form a deep frown. “This conversation is over.”

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