Chapter Eight: Engagement

Ling Luo let out a helpless sigh, feeling deeply indebted to Bu Jingxian for bearing two extra months of punishment because of him. He was moved by Bu Jingxian’s willingness to take the blame on his behalf. Lost in these thoughts, he finally noticed the letter left by Princess Tianlai on the stone table. In it, she made her feelings clear, expressing her admiration for his composure and wit in the face of sudden danger, and urging him not to dwell on his unexpected setback. She concluded by saying her purpose in coming to North Spirit Mountain was to meet him, and she hoped they would see each other again in the future.

The letter instantly dispelled the gloom in Ling Luo’s heart. He felt incredibly fortunate to have such a fiancée and resolved to work even harder in the future so as not to disappoint the princess’s affections. The letter also contained a map. Ling Luo glanced at it, then put it away, gathered the items July had left for Bu Jingxian, and sought out the junior disciple who delivered meals, asking him to take the items to Bu Jingxian along with the next morning’s meal. Since this request did not violate any rules, the disciple gladly agreed.

Only then did Ling Luo take the map to seek an audience with the Elder of North Spirit.

He explained the matter of the map. The Elder showed little interest, to Ling Luo’s surprise. The map detailed the whereabouts of the treasures of the Divine Soul Sect. After the sect’s destruction by General Han Feng, rumors spread that treasures were hidden in Divine Soul Mountain—rare cultivation artifacts, the sect’s legendary sword, and an unnamed secret manual supposedly authored sixty years ago by the greatest human martial artist of the era. Ever since, countless treasure seekers had flocked to the mountain, causing endless conflict and bloodshed. Many suspected Han Feng had already acquired the treasures, and several assassination attempts had been made on him; had he not been so formidable, he would not have survived. Even a recent attempt left him wounded.

The matter of the Divine Soul Sect’s treasures was widely known, and the state of Zheng was, of course, deeply invested. It was common knowledge that the Elder of North Spirit was fond of wealth and treasures, which was why Princess Tianlai had chosen to share the information with him. First, to thank him for his martial guidance, and second, to show the royal family’s trust and respect. By having Ling Luo deliver the map rather than doing so herself, she signaled that she and Ling Luo shared everything, and hoped he might earn some merit.

Seeing the Elder’s lack of interest, Ling Luo was puzzled but, having delivered the map, did not press further and took his leave.

Back in his quarters, he wondered if Bu Jingxian might know something about the treasures. He’d previously considered reminding Bu Jingxian to use this opportunity to win their master’s favor, but it had never seemed the right moment. Now, with the map’s information, the matter would soon come to light, and Bu Jingxian would likely be willing to report it. If their master obtained the treasures, Bu Jingxian would surely be credited and, in turn, receive advanced instruction in martial techniques.

With this thought, Ling Luo felt a surge of happiness, hoping Bu Jingxian would soon be released from the water prison.

Meanwhile, Bu Jingxian, tormented by isolation and hardship, struck the water’s surface with his fists again and again. He told himself countless times that, even if no one in the world cared whether he lived or died, even if no one showed him concern, he must all the more cherish himself. He could not forget his ideals, nor the shame of his clan. He needed to strive harder, always harder, never allowing himself to sink into despair.

He was not living to win his master’s favor, nor had he come to North Spirit Mountain for that purpose.

He understood this well and always acted accordingly. Even so, whenever the Elder treated him with particular coldness, he could not help but feel a deep sorrow.

He struck the water surface over and over—more than three thousand blows—before exhaustion finally overcame him and dulled the pain in his heart.

Fearing he might lose his clarity of mind, he plunged headlong into the water, only resurfacing when he was nearly suffocated, gasping for breath. He most enjoyed cultivating his inner energy in the water, often remaining submerged for long stretches, only emerging when his strength was nearly spent and he was close to death. In this way, he honed his spirit-channeling skills and, in the brush with death, gained a clear awareness of the path ahead, letting go of needless worries.

A brief encounter with death’s edge banished his troubles and restored his vigor. Casting aside all distractions, he stood motionless in the water, holding his breath and entering a meditative sleep—half awake, half asleep—a skill he had mastered, and which Ling Luo had learned from him. He did not know if other disciples had acquired it before entering the water prison, but he himself had done so beforehand.

He particularly enjoyed sleeping with a rope tied around him, savoring the strange sensation of being half asleep yet instantly alert to any disturbance, all while maintaining the flow of inner energy for cultivation. At first, he could not do this; with time, however, the duration lengthened, becoming a habit—body and mind naturally maintaining the state of cultivation.

Only after this did he learn to cultivate his meridians while performing chores such as chopping wood. He had no martial forms to practice, so he could only focus on refining his Soul Technique.

As a child, he had learned martial forms and techniques at the Divine Soul Sect, but after practicing the Soul Technique, all the inner energy he had previously accumulated dissipated. The old martial forms were unimpressive; from watching other disciples, even without knowing the specifics of their techniques, he could tell they were inferior to what he had learned in the past.

Thus, he had long since lost interest in practicing them. On ordinary days, he liked to gaze at the sky in a daze, which naturally helped him forget all his troubles.

This was the first time he had cultivated in the water all night. When he awoke, he had no idea what hour it was, only that his energy seemed much improved, though he suspected it was just the refreshing feeling of being clean. With nothing to do in the darkness, unable to sleep, he simply stared and continued his practice.

Only when he heard the heavy iron door creak open did he know the meal had arrived. A sliver of light shone through the small window; a hand set a basket of food inside, then passed in a bundled package.

“Senior Brother asked me to bring this for you. I don’t know why he treats a beggar like you so well—he’s probably just too soft-hearted,” the disciple said, followed by a mocking sneer. “Enjoy, Beggar Brother. Best take the chance to wash yourself clean in there. With you locked up these days, the air on North Spirit Mountain has been so much fresher. Everyone hopes you’ll stay in the water prison forever.”

Bu Jingxian was used to such talk. At first, it angered him, but over time, he let it go. He had once considered retaliating, but remembering that his master did not like him, and that breaking the rules would give his master an excuse to expel him, he chose to endure.

The food was the usual fare—a chicken, a plate of stir-fried vegetables with meat, and a large bowl of rice. The meals on North Spirit Mountain were good; after all, the disciples paid exorbitant tuition. The other box contained pastries—chilled, fragrant—he set them aside.

After eating, he tasted the pastries and found them delicious. Thinking they must have been brought by the princess for Ling Luo, who had then shared some with him, he was deeply touched.

Sitting in the water prison eating pastries, Bu Jingxian thought of how Ling Luo truly cared for him and was overwhelmed with gratitude. Little did he know that, in Feixian Sect, someone was about to make a lifelong decision for him.

Since leaving North Spirit Mountain, Zheng Linran had sensed that her master, Zheng Feixian, was distracted, but dared not ask. That very night, upon returning to Feixian Sect, she was summoned to her master’s chambers.

She knelt for her master’s greetings and, hearing no instructions for a long time, finally looked up to see her master gazing intently at her, deepening her confusion.

“Ran’er, you are becoming more and more beautiful,” Zheng Feixian said softly.

“I could never compare to Master’s grace,” she replied.

Zheng Feixian smiled gently. “I have decided to arrange a marriage for you, with a disciple of North Spirit Sect. I wonder if you would be willing?”

Her master’s question was a mere courtesy. Although Zheng Linran had both parents, if Zheng Feixian made the decision, her parents would never object. Hearing that it was to be a disciple of North Spirit Sect, she immediately considered a few candidates. Ling Luo was impossible; Chu Gaoge was the son of the crown prince of Chu, destined to be the next prince. Relations between Zheng and Chu would not remain peaceful for long. If she were in the palace, she might have been chosen for a political marriage, but as a member of Feixian Sect, she was destined to become either a Hall Leader or one of the Four Seasons Elders. To marry the crown prince of Chu would harm Zheng more than benefit it. He could be ruled out.

That left only two possibilities: the son of the Left Assistant Minister of Chen, who had no strong ties to Zheng, or Han Feng’s youngest brother, also from Zheng. She recalled their appearances and found they would be acceptable—at least their status would not disgrace her.

She responded, “I will obey Master’s wishes. May I ask which disciple Master means?”

“North Spirit Sect’s third disciple, Bu Jingxian.” When Zheng Feixian uttered this name, Zheng Linran nearly fainted from shock!

Never had she imagined this name. Never had she thought her master would betroth her to such a person! She had visited North Spirit Sect with her master many times and was well aware of Bu Jingxian’s situation. If Zheng Feixian had not forbidden her, she would have long since mocked July about it.

A useless wretch, a beggar through and through! And her master wished her to marry him?

“Master... what have I done to make you angry with me?”