Chapter Thirty-Nine: Reproach

There are reasons behind such confusion, of course. When Third Brother Xia stood there, his expression was nothing short of peculiar. His gaze was fixed intently on the main hall, his face filled with doubt and uncertainty. Suddenly, his eyes shifted to the Seventh and Eighth Brothers, and seeing that they too wore the same look of puzzlement, he thought to himself, “Master only told us to use the excuse of our Eldest Brother’s return to lure Little Sister back to the mountain. But how is it that Eldest Brother really returned? Could it be that Master foresaw something in advance, or was this all part of his deliberate arrangement?”

Puzzled as he was, there was no way he could arrive at an answer merely by guessing blindly. So before the plump and thin junior brothers could voice their questions, Third Brother Xia made a subtle gesture for them to move forward. Though small, the meaning was clear enough, and under the circumstances, it was the best course of action. After all, among all the Qilian Sect, perhaps only Hantan Yi could subdue their troublesome junior sister, Qiu Wan’er. If he truly had returned, then at least Third Brother Xia would be spared the ordeal to come. Otherwise, should that little rascal throw a tantrum, who knew what chaos might ensue.

Seventh and Eighth Brother, naturally, fell in line behind Third Brother Xia. Though the three were close in age, the order of seniority in the sect could not be lightly ignored. Besides, though Xia Wuya was technically a junior, even Hantan Yi addressed him as “Third Brother,” which was testament enough to his standing among his peers. What’s more, Xia Wuya was reliable in his duties and highly regarded by the Daoist of Heavenly Secrets. Some even speculated that upon the old master’s passing, Xia Wuya’s chances of succeeding as sect leader were greater than Hantan Yi’s. Not that Hantan Yi cared, for though he was the eldest, he had always been a carefree spirit, and not even the Daoist of Heavenly Secrets could change him. Over time, they simply let him be.

“Eldest Brother, where did you run off to? You made me worry so!” By this time, Qiu Wan’er had already reached the crowd. She saw several dozen people clustered tightly together, making it impossible to see who was at the center, yet the voice that rang out was unmistakably Hantan Yi’s. His identity now confirmed, Qiu Wan’er’s joy was instantly cast aside, replaced by anger. Clearly displeased with his sudden disappearance, she forcefully pulled aside several people blocking her way, oblivious to decorum, and squeezed herself straight to Hantan Yi’s side.

Such abrupt shoving would ordinarily provoke annoyance, but when those present saw who it was, irritation melted away. Usually, this band of senior brothers did their utmost to steer clear of this “little demoness” and would never dare provoke her. The more hot-tempered among them might mutter a curse or two under their breath, the kinder ones would not say a word, but either way, they considered themselves unlucky and quickly closed ranks again, as though something fascinating was unfolding at the center they dared not miss.

“Junior Sister?” Hantan Yi tensed at her call. Though Qiu Wan’er was usually quite amiable toward him, he had long been influenced by the opinions of others and couldn’t help but feel wary, especially now, seeing the anger on her face. It seemed that whatever he said would set her off. Subconsciously, he took a step back, but Qiu Wan’er immediately closed the distance, so their advance and retreat appeared almost choreographed, perfectly masking his anxiety. “I—Master—Master had an errand for me. He asked me to find an old acquaintance in Jinjiang, so I came back a little late!”

He had fabricated this on the spot. With the Daoist of Heavenly Secrets absent and Qiu Wan’er questioning him so, Hantan Yi couldn’t conjure a better explanation. In his panic, he blurted it out, knowing there was no one to contradict him. But lying was never his strong suit, and his nervousness slipped through in his shifting expression and stammering tone. Still, this unexpected answer eased the doubts of Third Brother Xia and his companions. It made sense—if Master hadn’t arranged it from the start, how could the excuse and the reality have coincided so perfectly?

“What old acquaintance? Why didn’t you wait for me? Are you afraid I’d slow you down?” Qiu Wan’er pressed on relentlessly, her words flowing without pause, as if she had anticipated this all along. This quick-witted girl was famous for her intelligence, so her swift retorts surprised no one. However, this line of inquiry left Hantan Yi at a loss. Since his original story was a lie, spinning a convincing follow-up was no easy thing.

“Now, how can you blame me for that? You ran off to play the moment we entered Jinjiang City. How was I supposed to find you?” Of course, there was a way out—if he couldn’t answer directly, he could simply deflect. Like in martial arts, when you can’t meet force head-on, take an indirect route. By redirecting her attention, he might muddle through. As he raised his voice in mock reproach, Qiu Wan’er’s confidence faltered and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Even her proud stance wilted, as if she truly had been in the wrong.

Seeing his ploy work, a faint, triumphant smile flickered on Hantan Yi’s lips, though he quickly composed himself. Some things, once happened, were best treated like dreams—avoided if possible, as if they’d never occurred. The Blue Lotus Cult, for instance, was not something he ever wished to mention again. To others, it might be a trivial affair; to him, it was a source of endless regret and resignation.

“Eldest Brother, Master said you’d return today. I thought he’d made it up, but it turned out to be true! You’ve only been away a short while, but everyone’s missed you terribly!” Xia Wuya, unlike Qiu Wan’er, was careful not to offend at such a crucial moment. After all, he was a candidate for the sect’s leadership and couldn’t afford to make enemies. Caution might have robbed him of some of his usual flair, but he couldn’t linger outside the crowd forever. So, after a brief pause, he called out loudly.

And his words proved effective. As the third senior brother of Qilian Sect, Xia Wuya’s standing was second only to Hantan Yi and the aloof Second Brother Lao, who kept his distance from the commotion. The others were no fools; at the sound of his voice, the crowd parted, forming a narrow path for Xia Wuya and his companions.

Hantan Yi, of course, recognized the voice. Having grown up together, they were as familiar as brothers could be. At this moment, the interruption was a blessing; otherwise, once Qiu Wan’er recovered her nerve, things could only get worse. Quickly, he reached over, clapped Xia Wuya on the shoulder, and grinned broadly. “Well, well, well! If it isn’t our dashing Third Brother Xia! It’s only been half a month, but you’re looking more handsome than ever. If you were in Xingyang City, I’d wager even the heiress of Bright Moon Manor would refuse to marry anyone else!”

His words were lighthearted, but the mention of marriage made Xia Wuya visibly uncomfortable. He wasn’t alone—most present had no idea why Hantan Yi brought this up. What did the marriage prospects of Bright Moon Manor’s heiress have to do with Third Brother Xia? Perhaps sensing their confusion, or perhaps wanting to craft a particular atmosphere, Hantan Yi paused, then continued, “She took one look and lost her heart to our Third Brother. If you don’t become the Shen family’s son-in-law, she might never leave!”

At this, the crowd burst into laughter, and the previously tranquil slopes of Qilian Mountain filled with boisterous cheer. Even the thin Seventh Brother and the plump Eighth Brother couldn’t help but chuckle aloud, while Xia Wuya’s embarrassment only deepened, leaving him at a complete loss. “Eldest Brother, you really are something—always teasing your junior the moment you return. The Shen family’s heiress is of such high status. How could an orphan of lowly birth like me be worthy of her? Please, don’t joke at my expense!”