Chapter Five The Request

At the sound of that shout, the others each grabbed two handfuls of eggs, coordinating with one another to hurl them in unison. The eggs quickly formed a curling, surging wave, crashing forward. When the front seemed to dip, the eggs behind suddenly accelerated, shooting through the gaps, while here and there others burst forth like flecks of water, flying in erratic, swift arcs.

Bu Jinxian leapt lightly from the ground, and just as expected, several rows of eggs shot out from the base of the wave, like a sudden spray from a crashing breaker—faster even than those scattered, water-droplet eggs. They flew past beneath his feet and off the cliff, while the scattered eggs only then reached him, each on its own erratic path, perfectly calculated to cover every direction he might dodge.

Two eggs flew straight for his face, but Bu Jinxian seemed to fall sideways out of thin air, easily evading them.

At that moment, the crest of the egg-wave surged overhead, then suddenly accelerated and crashed down. More eggs splattered from its midst like water spray. Bu Jinxian, still airborne, spun upwards, dodging them as well. When the falling wave threatened to engulf him, he spun and dove headlong into the heart of the egg-wave.

The crashing wave passed behind him and smashed onto the ground.

The disciples of the Northern Spirit Sect grew ever more inventive, employing every group shooting technique they had learned that day.

On the distant roof inside the encircling walls, Ling Luo watched the scene unfold. Thanks to his spiritual technique, he could see much farther than ordinary people, and several other disciples who had advanced beyond the fourth level could see as well.

One exclaimed in surprise, “Is Third Senior Brother using the Wind-Stepping Lightness technique?”

Another immediately shook his head in denial, “Absolutely not Wind-Stepping Lightness. It’s more like he’s imitating the internal energy movement of that technique with only a rudimentary inner strength, so it looks similar. But Third Senior Brother’s strength is shallow—how could he generate such astonishing power from his meridians?”

Ling Luo shook his head, admitting he didn’t know, and said nothing more.

A thoughtful junior sister, sensing Ling Luo’s concern, ventured, “If Senior Brother finds this unbearable, I’m willing to go and stop their nonsense!”

“Focus on your training.”

She heard him but was still uneasy. She didn’t especially sympathize with Bu Jinxian—her compassion had long since faded after so many years in the sect. She was only concerned for Ling Luo’s feelings and wanted to help ease his burden. She stubbornly persisted, “I’ll go right now!”

Ling Luo quickly stopped her, his tone stern as he admonished, “Third Brother is no ordinary man! Such trivial matters are beneath his notice. If he truly couldn’t endure the humiliation, he would have left long ago or spoken to me—but he has never mentioned it. Third Brother has great ambition; he will not be defeated by such petty insults. To intervene would seem to help him, but in truth, it would only harm him. Especially since he and I regard each other as confidants and equals, I must not act on my own lest I wound his heart!” With that, Ling Luo closed his eyes and gently ordered, “Return to your training.”

The disciples of the Spiritual Technique School dared not say more and quietly returned to their meditation and cultivation.

When the baskets of eggs and bones were finally empty, the disciples by the cliff were all somewhat exhausted. Someone kept count and shouted, “One hundred and thirty-six hits today! Whoever loses will have to serve as a servant tonight!”

Bu Jinxian was well acquainted with these people by now; they always gambled on how many times they could hit him. Whoever guessed the right number won. At first, it was for money, but perhaps out of boredom, it became that the loser would act as servant for the night—drawing water, washing feet, even sharing a bed—all on command. It was truly debauched. Even the girls who appeared as delicate as flowers, graceful as noble ladies, had become embroiled in all kinds of impropriety lately.

Sometimes Bu Jinxian couldn’t help but reflect that these people, pampered since childhood, were so fair-skinned and delicate that ordinary people couldn’t compare—they looked immaculate and refined. Yet, the things they did were so sordid and filthy.

After they left, he went to the mountain spring, first using force to shake off the mud coating his clothes and hair, sending the mixture of white and yellow yolks flying away with it. Then, obeying the strict orders of the Northern Spirit Elder, he rolled himself in the wet mud by the spring until he was covered from head to toe, before returning to the cliff’s edge.

Originally, being on Northern Spirit Mountain, surrounded by so many noble youths and beautiful girls, Bu Jinxian should have been at the age when love first awakens. But after being exposed to these people, he found them all so unclean that beauty no longer moved him.

Here, it seemed all worldly propriety had vanished. For a maiden to lose her virtue before marriage should have been deeply shameful, but even among Ling Luo’s closest disciples, some had already crossed that threshold.

Life in the mountains was dull; the scenery never changed, and he long since grew weary of it. He used to focus solely on his training, but ever since his engagement to Zheng Linran, he found his thoughts drifting, longing for the next time they might meet.

One day, as he ate, Bu Jinxian suddenly thought he ought to prepare a gift for his fiancée for their next meeting. But he had no money—here, food and shelter were provided, but the Northern Spirit Elder never gave his disciples any spending money. Occasionally, disciples were sent down the mountain on errands, for which they received generous travel expenses and a bonus upon their return, so long as they didn’t squander it foolishly.

But such tasks usually went to those halfway up the mountain. The disciples at the summit disdained such work, while those on the slopes often came from declining families or had spent all their wealth learning the arts, so they needed the money.

Bu Jinxian doubted his master would assign him such a task, but he braced himself and went to request an audience with the Northern Spirit Elder.

He knelt outside the elder’s residence for only a short while before being summoned in. The elder didn’t even glance at him; his expression betrayed neither disgust nor impatience, nor did it show warmth—just cold indifference and quiet composure.

When Bu Jinxian explained his purpose, the elder finally looked him in the eye. “Why do you wish to earn money?”

“Master, I have been here for several years and have never had the chance to show my filial piety…”

“For the sake of love?”

Bu Jinxian immediately regretted his choice of words; as he feared, he could not deceive his master, and now the man might secretly despise him. No longer daring to deny it, he bowed his head and quietly admitted, “Yes.”

The Northern Spirit Elder snorted coldly, full of mockery.

“What sort of person is Zheng Linran? What could you possibly give her? Do you think anything you can buy would win her favor? You have nothing. Don’t expect to buy her happiness with my rewards. There’s no need to speak of this again—no need even to think of it. Focus on your soul technique training. If you have nothing else, you may leave now.”

“Master…”

“Go!”

Bu Jinxian saluted in silence and left, feeling oppressed and wretched. Though he had expected rejection, he still felt a twisting ache in his heart. After his frustration subsided, he reflected on his master’s words; though they were a refusal, they were not without reason. What did Bu Jinxian have? Nothing at all. Zheng Linran was accustomed to treasures, while he couldn’t even afford something precious.

But his master had told him to train, and yet he had nothing to train—after just over an hour each day, his meridians ached from practicing the soul technique, and he could go no further. If only he had studied the Spiritual Technique or Royal Technique, he wouldn’t feel so inferior now; he would be filled with confidence for the future and would never feel he was unworthy of Zheng Linran, nor seek some token to secure her affection.

Rain poured down, fine as silk, falling in torrents from the sky. Soon Bu Jinxian was soaked to the bone, yet he stood gazing into the endless curtain of rain, unable to suppress the urge to cry out and ask himself: When did Bu Jinxian become a man so full of self-doubt? When? When! When—