Chapter Six: Through Thick and Thin

The inn’s attendant had long been waiting to clear the table. Fortunately, with no other guests around, he didn't rush or drive them out. Only when the chicken bones had been gnawed to fragments did he approach, chuckling to himself, “You two are truly blessed, meeting such a kind-hearted benefactor—hard to find someone like that anywhere!”

Bu Jingxian hastily rose and replied, “Brother, you are a good man yourself. In other places, they’d never let the likes of us through the door.”

The attendant, pleased, said, “It’s nothing, really. But once you’re done eating, you’d best be on your way. If more guests arrive, there’ll surely be complaints.”

“Thank you again for your help!” Bu Jingxian expressed his gratitude once more before leading July away.

With food in her belly, July regained her strength, while Bu Jingxian was quite the opposite. Long deprived of a proper meal, he relaxed now that they had reached their destination and eaten well, all the exhaustion he had bottled up was released at once. He found himself unable to go far before needing to rest, and it was July who now strode ahead, calling back impatiently for him to hurry.

The mountain winds in winter were bitterly cold. Bu Jingxian pressed on as far as he could, but as they ascended, he felt the chill sink ever deeper into his bones, his body shivering uncontrollably—he suspected he was falling ill. North Spirit Mountain loomed above, shrouded in clouds and mist, but these wild mountains offered nowhere suitable to rest. The higher they climbed, the colder it grew. If he didn't push on, he might drag July into illness as well, which would be even more dangerous.

So he forced himself to keep climbing. As darkness fell, they reached the misty mountainside. Thinking the summit must be close, he looked up—only to see no peak, just swirling fog.

At last, Bu Jingxian could go no further; after only a few steps, he collapsed headlong into the snow. July, terrified, shook and called his name, but he did not wake. Still, July kept her wits about her. Though tears filled her eyes from fear, she immediately dragged Bu Jingxian to search for shelter from the wind. There were no caves nearby, so she found a crevice in a large boulder, sitting with her back to the opening to shield them from the wind.

She struck a fire stick and lit their crude torch.

Bu Jingxian did not wake for some time, and July, afraid the torch would die out, hurried to gather dry branches, braving the biting cold for several trips until she managed to get a fire going. She huddled against the stone, clutching Bu Jingxian close.

The wind howled, the fire warming her front while her back was numb with cold. Tears streamed down her face from the pain and fear for Bu Jingxian’s life. She called his name again and again, hoping to rouse him.

“Brother Bu, Brother Bu, please wake up, Brother Bu…”

When the embers began to dwindle, July rushed off to fetch more wood. As the fire flared up again, snow began to fall, thick and heavy. Fearing the flames would be smothered, July shielded the fire with her small body until it blazed high once more. Smoke and heat had dried and stung her eyes, so she grabbed a handful of snow and rubbed her face. Somewhat relieved, but fearing the fire would not last, she went to gather a heap of branches. With sudden inspiration, she used the branches to block the gaps in the rocks, shielding herself from the wind. Remembering the cold of the snow, she broke off more branches to lay on the ground, and with great effort, dragged Bu Jingxian onto them. When she saw the firewood running low, she went out again for more.

By the time she had gathered enough, most of the frigid night had slipped by. The first light of dawn glimmered faintly in the sky.

Exhausted and famished, July could endure no longer. Seeing Bu Jingxian still breathing, she finally allowed herself to doze. Each time she woke, she checked the fire, drifting in and out of sleep until daylight broke and the sun rose in the east, painting the mountain in gold and red.

July’s stomach was empty—hunger had sapped all her strength. After a night of toil, she was utterly spent. She thought of foraging for food, but when she tried to stand, she collapsed to the ground.

High on the mountain stood a woman robed in silver. After Bu Jingxian had declined her offer to travel together the day before, she had waited here on the peak. She was no ordinary person—the name of the North Spirit Elder was little known, but this woman’s name inspired awe throughout the land.

She was none other than the leader of the three great sects—the head of the Celestial Flight Sect, and also the royal sister of the King of Zheng, born of the same mother: Zheng Feixian.

Under her rule, the Celestial Flight Sect boasted thirty thousand full disciples, and over a hundred thousand when counting all initiates and named students, nearly all serving positions in the state of Zheng. The country’s present strength owed at least half its due to Zheng Feixian.

The North Spirit Elder, by contrast, had been obscure; a year ago, no one had heard his name. Only due to Zheng Feixian’s fervent praise did the King of Zheng treat him with honor. After several matches in which he outshone renowned masters, his reputation grew. North Spirit Mountain was originally Zheng Feixian’s fief, given half a year ago to the North Spirit Elder.

Many whispered that Zheng Feixian and the North Spirit Elder shared an unusual bond. They did not shy from such talk, though no impropriety was seen in public; in private, however, their intimacy was like that of a devoted middle-aged couple.

People knew the North Spirit Elder planned to found his own sect, and many sought to become his disciples, but few had ever managed to meet him.

Zheng Feixian had accompanied the North Spirit Elder here, and when she encountered Bu Jingxian, she recalled the old friendship between the North Spirit Elder and the late head of the Spirit Soul Sect. She knew that, though the North Spirit Elder had once vowed to take only two disciples, he would not refuse Bu Jingxian.

In years past, when the North Spirit Elder was in dire straits, it was Bu Jingxian’s father, the head of the Spirit Soul Sect, who saved him. Thereafter, they fought side by side through many perils. The Spirit Soul Sect’s leader had been an unremarkable martial artist, learning much from those days with the North Spirit Elder, but the latter would not accept him as a disciple, only as a friend. The Spirit Soul Sect leader tried many times to become his disciple, but failed; before they parted, the North Spirit Elder promised that, should his friend have a descendant one day who wished to learn, he would take that child as his student and impart all his skills.

Now the Spirit Soul Sect was destroyed, and Bu Jingxian, having escaped, had found his way here. Zheng Feixian, upon seeing him in the inn, had remarked on the workings of fate.

Years ago, the Spirit Soul Sect leader and the North Spirit Elder had fought together against the Celestial Flight Sect’s pursuit, so Zheng Feixian was no stranger to her old foe. The destruction of the Spirit Soul Sect was a matter tied to the Zheng court’s interests, not a matter of sect rivalry. Although Zheng Feixian had forewarning, she could only feign ignorance, and the North Spirit Elder understood that this was not something an individual could have prevented or changed. He could only sigh in his heart for his old friend.

The heights of North Spirit Mountain were steep and treacherous—ordinary people could never reach the summit, let alone two children.

The North Spirit Elder could not intervene openly, so Zheng Feixian, sharing an unspoken understanding with him, endured the hardship on his behalf.

Her cultivation was extraordinary, and she was revered as a living legend. Standing atop the mountain all night was nothing to her. Seeing July’s tenacity, she was reminded of her own past, and her affection for the girl grew. In the inn, she had already considered taking July as a disciple. Ordinarily, accepting so young a child would have been improper, but having already made an exception for a royal kin, one more would hardly matter.

When she saw July, famished and faint, collapse to the ground, Zheng Feixian felt not alarm but delight. For this confirmed her suspicion: July was indeed a rare energy-adept constitution. Most people could never eat so much, let alone hold it, but those with such a body could—the food transformed rapidly into energy stored within. They only felt sated when full of energy, but the energy was quickly consumed, so they were always hungry, always needing to eat. Once their energy was depleted, they could not carry on by sheer will, unlike normal people who could labor for days on an empty stomach.

Zheng Feixian herself possessed such a constitution. As a child, she had been mocked for her appetite by many in the palace. When older, she learned to maintain decorum in public, only indulging in solitude. Later, her cultivation advanced and she no longer relied on food for energy, able to go long without eating or drinking.

Her decision to abandon her royal status for the martial path was partly from personal ambition, but also because of this constitution.

Imagine—a princess devouring a table laden with dozens of delicacies, finishing even the soup, and then two buckets of rice. At last, clapping her hands and demanding, “Bring another table just like this!” Even she blushed to recall such scenes. But once away from the palace and living as a wanderer, she no longer cared; as long as she could afford it, there was no shame in eating everything an inn could offer.