Chapter Sixty-Four: The Art of Lightness

It is often said that life is nothing more than a shell, yet this very shell has its own advantages. Take Shao Changchun for example: no matter how much he curses inwardly, as long as that respectful smile remains on his face, no one can tell. Yet in Han Tanyi’s eyes, that subtle feeling only deepened the longer he observed the youth before him. A thought flashed through his mind—he was certain he had seen this young man somewhere before, but no matter how he tried, he could not recall where.

Of course, Shao Changchun seemed unconcerned with Han Tanyi or Xia Wuya. In terms of seniority, he was indeed of their generation, but his current status set him apart. Though the Eastern Hua Gate had weakened, it still firmly held the title of one of the Four Great Sects, with no sign of being ousted. Thus, as the head of the sect, Shao Changchun naturally represented its interests, standing on equal footing with the likes of Shen Wansan and Daoist Tianji. His posture had to remain lofty; such was the custom in the martial world.

The three exchanged a few polite words, nothing of substance—mere compliments and formalities. Soon, the young man followed the Shen family away. As for those on the guest list, Mingyue Manor had already arranged accommodations, and given Shao Changchun’s status, his reception would not be of the lowest order, second only to someone like Daoist Tianji. The martial world was vast, with not thousands but tens of thousands of its denizens converging for this martial assembly, swelling the city of Yingyang to bursting. The crowds were so dense that it was difficult to move, and even travelers and passersby chose to linger, hoping to witness the spectacle. Whether they were martial artists or common folk, who among them did not harbor dreams of heroism? Even if one could not live such a life, it was something to boast about, a tale to tell in old age.

With such a flood, Mingyue Manor could not host them all. Even the inns and taverns of Yingyang benefited greatly, for these martial artists, much like Qiu Wan’er, were generous by nature. The combined effect was no small windfall; in some places, the earnings of a day or two surpassed those of an entire month. Even trinkets from street vendors fetched handsome prices, and all hoped the martial assembly would last a few days more—forever, if possible—though that was, of course, a fantasy.

This scene, however, troubled Qiu Wan’er. She had planned to explore Yingyang alone, free from the constraints of the old man and Han Tanyi, craving a bit of wild, unrestrained fun. But now that was out of the question. The crowds were so thick it seemed there was no room to spare, making even the smallest movement difficult. She had intended only to stroll about, but traversing half a street—ordinarily a quarter-hour’s walk from end to end—had taken her two full hours, jostled and pushed the whole way, entirely out of her own control. It was hardly enjoyable, so she chose to give up. Staying in the inn was dull, but better than venturing out. Now, standing at the window and watching the scene below, she could not help but furrow her brow, worry flickering across her face. What troubled her? Naturally, it was that old man from the Western Regions. Zhuola Weiyang was an odd character, with little real connection to her, yet for some strange reason, Qiu Wan’er always felt an instinctive sense of kinship when she looked at him, as if something about him called to her.

“That old man claimed he was looking for someone, but with such a sea of people, even if I know where Master and Senior Brother are at Mingyue Manor, getting there would be no easy task, let alone finding his so-called junior or junior sister. That would be like fishing for a needle in the ocean. Where could he have gone?” Qiu Wan’er pondered. Alone, she felt a touch of boredom, and her thoughts began to drift. She glanced in the direction of Mingyue Manor. “Tomorrow is the start of the martial assembly. It must be lively there. Perhaps Master will attend as well?”

Her musings had not yet finished when, in an instant, a figure soared across the sky and landed in her room. There was no need to guess who it was. In the martial world, many possessed extraordinary skills, but even the best found it difficult to walk upon air; a leap of five or six meters was already remarkable. Yet this newcomer seemed unbound by such limits, vaulting ten meters from the ground or a nearby rooftop. Others could not do this; this figure could. It was proof enough of the visitor’s formidable skill.

Of course, it was Zhuola Weiyang. From the first moment Qiu Wan’er had seen him, she had sensed that the old man’s abilities far surpassed her expectations, but she had not imagined he possessed such feats. Watching him now, she could not help but feel deeply shaken—though in this vast martial world, there was no end of wonders. If pressed to name her true feelings, perhaps her curiosity and yearning outweighed even her shock.

“Eh, this Yingyang city is truly something, even more complicated than my own Western Kunlun. These Central Plains folk build their houses and roads in the strangest ways—so confusing you can’t tell north from south. And so many people! I can barely walk, much less find anyone. Walking along the rooftops is far easier. Girl, have you any water? Pour me a cup—I’m dying of thirst!” Before Qiu Wan’er could speak, Zhuola Weiyang had already begun complaining. As she expected, finding someone in Yingyang at this moment was no easy task, and his words were full of grievances. Though old, he always had something of a childlike impatience about him. He grabbed the teapot in haste, clearly parched beyond belief, only to find just a few drops within—hardly enough to wet the bottom of the cup. He looked helplessly at Qiu Wan’er, his gaze pleading. Unfamiliar with the Central Plains, without a coin to his name, he found it awkward to call for an attendant, so his hopes rested on her. But in the next instant, he regretted it, for her expression betrayed a sly cunning that set his heart on guard; the words died in his mouth.

“Want some water? That’s easy enough. Old man, your lightness skills are truly admirable!” Here Qiu Wan’er paused deliberately, a smile spreading across her face, only deepening the sense of calculation Zhuola Weiyang had detected. It was obvious she was bargaining. If he could not read the signs now, he would have to be pretending. Speaking so with an elder made her intent clear. He was stubborn by nature—such traits only deepen with age, especially when faced with threats. But perhaps he was simply too thirsty, for Zhuola Weiyang felt no urge to refuse her. Though his face showed a flicker of annoyance, it quickly softened. “Fine, fine. If you wish to learn, I will teach you. But this is not something you can master in a day. Go fetch the tea first—I’m so parched I can’t even recite the formula!”

“All right, I’ll go right now! Just wait, old man, wait right here!” Qiu Wan’er agreed happily, her steps lively and animated. It was not quite dancing for joy, but as the saying goes, women are like cats—always cautious—yet at this moment, she resembled a spirited little rabbit, bounding down the stairs. Watching her, the old man could not help but chuckle to himself.

Yet he could not laugh for long. He wandered over to the window, gazing out with a focused intensity, as if searching for someone. Of course, he knew it was futile. With so many people surging past, even if the ones he sought were among them, he might not find them. Still, it was an opportunity he could not let slip. The thought brought a wry smile to Zhuola Weiyang’s face, as if mocking himself for such wishful thinking. “But what else can I do? This was my master’s last wish—how can a disciple turn his back and leave it undone?”