Chapter 105 — Sword Dance

Deep into the night.

On Canglan Mountain, atop Xiaozhu Peak.

The sky was dark and overcast, without moon or star, and boundless darkness shrouded Xiaozhu Peak. Lu Xueling, dressed all in white, stood alone upon the Moon-Viewing Terrace behind the peak.

This Moon-Viewing Terrace was in fact the most famous spot on Xiaozhu Peak. Together with the "Sea of Clouds" and the "Rainbow Bridge" of Jietian Peak on Canglan Mountain, it was counted among the Six Scenes of Qingyun as one of the "Moon-Viewing" wonders.

The rear slope of Xiaozhu Peak was likewise thick with dense bamboo groves, but unlike the "black-jointed bamboo" of Dazhu Peak's rear slope, Xiaozhu Peak was famous for a different and wondrous bamboo called the Tear Bamboo. These stalks were emerald green and slender, with nearly half as many joints as ordinary bamboo, yet their wood was of such extraordinary toughness that it was called the finest under heaven; no common woodcutter could fell one. But the Tear Bamboo's greatest renown came from the fact that its emerald trunk was covered all over with tiny spots of pale pink, like the tearstains of a gentle woman grieving—exquisite beyond words.

And from this the name of Xiaozhu Peak itself was derived.

As for the Moon-Viewing Terrace, it was in truth a cliff hanging alone in midair; apart from the rear portion that joined the mountain, most of it hung suspended high in the sky. It was said that on nights when the moonlight was bright, the moon would slowly rise from below the mountain, climbing gradually up the terrace, and the very moment the moonlight fully illumined the terrace was also the moment when the moon stood at its zenith.

And that was the terrace's most beautiful hour: of a sudden the pure radiance of the moon would come pouring down in sudden, dazzling splendor, glancing off the smooth rock of the terrace and lighting the whole of Xiaozhu Peak in an instant. In that moment anyone standing upon the terrace seemed nearly to stand in a fairy realm; indeed, it was said that on the night of the full moon that appeared only once in sixty years, one felt as though one stood upon the bright moon itself—a thrill that truly inspired endless yearning.

Yet tonight was moonless and windswept—clearly no time for savoring the terrace's beauty. And at this hour, not to speak of the Moon-Viewing Terrace behind the peak, even the front slope where the disciples lived was all dark and lightless; plainly everyone had long since gone to sleep.

Only Lu Xueling, for reasons unknown, had come alone to this remote and deserted place.

Tianxuan, which never left her side, was still behind her, softly shedding a gentle blue radiance in the dark and lighting a little of the space around her. The night wind blew cold, stirring the white of her garments like snow.

A few strands of soft hair at her temples had been blown into disarray and brushed across her fair cheeks, but she seemed not to notice at all. Silently she stood at the very edge of the Moon-Viewing Terrace cliff, gazing fixedly into the distance.

The mountain wind gradually grew stronger, and her garments began to flutter in it.

One step farther, and there was only darkness—a bottomless abyss.

At the cliff's edge, in the faint light, the woman in white stood alone.

Bit by bit, something was surfacing from the depths of her heart. It had begun as tender feeling, so how was it that little by little it had turned to sorrow?

Again and again, like an invisible blade, it pierced her heart deeply.

The trace engraved upon her heart's depths was, it turned out, the face of one person.

Longing, carved into the bone...

In the dark hour when no one was near, in this secluded and deserted place, she slowly spread her arms. Before her lay boundless darkness, as though heaven and earth were vast and blurred.

The wind was so fierce it rushed into her embrace as if to tear her apart, and the darkness at her feet suddenly stirred to life, reaching out dark hands from some unknown place to entwine her body and drag her down into the abyss.

Yet she seemed entranced, merely gazing in silence. The wind buffeted her body, so frail and fragile now, like a lily blooming in the darkness.

The night was deep.

That nameless chill seeped into every inch of her skin; only her mind, only her thoughts suddenly burned hot, and the tenderness hidden deep in her heart burst forth all at once like a blazing flame, then congealed into

a single face.

"*Clang—*"

A sharp ringing sound suddenly broke the night and echoed far away.

The divine sword Tianxuan left its sheath, bursting into brilliant radiance in the darkness. The white figure rose with it, catching Tianxuan in midair; the keen mountain wind swept up abruptly, and with that white figure upon the Moon-Viewing Terrace began a sword dance of beauty unrivaled in this world.

Autumn water fell from the endless sky and became a boundless Milky Way, winding and wheeling in slender white hands, flowing joyously through the night. Now it soared to the heavens, now it descended to earth; now it became a silver garment of streaming light, enamored of that peerless face; now it scattered into a sky full of stars, glittering bright.

There upon the Moon-Viewing Terrace Lu Xueling bit her lip hard and closed her eyes; her body seemed to drift with the wind, like catkins, like a cold flower, dancing out a figure of desolate beauty such as the world had never seen.

She became a floating white gleam, spending all her strength. Her face was so pale, and faint beads of sweat seemed to show upon it, yet she would not stop—perhaps only when the body is weary can all else be forgotten!

So she danced, and danced; that figure in the night, so faint and so lovely...

"*Ding!*"

With a light, crisp sound, the divine sword Tianxuan slowly slipped from her hand. Its keen edge, paying no heed to the hard rock, pierced the stone as silently and effortlessly as though into snow.

The brilliant, beautiful white figure slowly sank low, and the darkness quietly rose over her.

Who was it in the darkness, breathing faint and low?

There were drops of water, falling softly onto the stone—perhaps the sweat of exhaustion?

She panted softly, softly, then gradually grew calm; she lifted her eyes, and there was a faint bewilderment in them.

Somehow she had danced her way to the rear of the Moon-Viewing Terrace. Before her stood a bamboo grove—slender, gentle Tear Bamboo.

In the faint glow, the tearstains, spot upon spot, were like a woman heartbroken.

She stared at them blankly, then suddenly laughed aloud—a silent laugh, with something of bitterness in it—and then, heedless of the dust on the ground and of her spotless white garments, she sat down with her back against the Tear Bamboo.

She lifted her head and gazed at the sky!

The vault of heaven was boundless...

The night wind blew, and there seemed to be a faint, familiar scent upon it.

She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath.

So it was that after weariness, that face in her heart had only grown more deeply graven.

The past, drop by drop, seemed carved into her heart, never to be erased again.

Like that day outside the Heaven Emperor's Treasure House, when he had rashly seized her hand and pulled her to safety, forgetting his own peril entirely.

Her eyes were still closed, but a faint smile appeared at the corners of her mouth. Then she thought on, and on...

Until she thought of that final moment, of the mysterious characters that had appeared dancing around them—and only then did she realize that those characters had been deeply engraved upon her mind. Perhaps this way, she could forget him?

So she spoke to the depths of her own heart; though she did not believe it herself, her lips still softly murmured:

"Heaven and earth are not benevolent; they treat all things as straw dogs..."

In the deep of night, ancient and remote as a curse, it echoed low in the darkness.