"Your Highness, I come on the king's orders. To go back like this... I'd have no way to report myself! The enemy kingdom stirs of late; the king fears they may strike at you in secret. Please allow me to accompany you—once you return to the Immortal Crossing Sect, I'll turn back on my own."
Youqin Xuanya knit her brows lightly; on that beautiful face which normally carried no expression, there now hung a trace of helplessness.
Yuan Qing coaxed her: "Junior Sister Xuanya, we're heading to the Northern Jambu Continent, dangerous ground everywhere. With General Yuwen along, that's one more pair of hands to watch our backs."
Li Changshou spoke at once, his tone even: "Junior Brother Yuan Qing, you knew this general before? I noticed he never gave his name."
"Mm, right." Yuan Qing smiled. "Xuanya and I grew up together and entered the Immortal Crossing Sect together. This is General Yuwen Ling, the commander her royal father trusts most. For him to rush here to guard her, the situation must truly be grave."
So the poker-faced girl and the big warmhearted fellow were childhood sweethearts...
Li Changshou cupped his hands. "I spoke out of turn."
"Your Highness, the Sixth Princess," Yuwen Ling called with a frown.
Youqin Xuanya turned to the wine immortal sprawled on the gourd mouth, her gaze pleading.
"No trouble at all." Immortal Jiu Jiu waved lazily. "If he's your household guard, let him come along. A big fellow who just became immortal can't stir up waves in my hands. Now then, big fellow, go sit behind the gourd. Don't make a sound later—good fortune it is that no sect rule forbids an inner disciple from bringing a guard on a trip."
Yuwen Ling cupped his hands. "Many thanks, Immortal." And with that, the big fellow drifted with his great axe toward the rear of the gourd. Jiu Jiu pointed a finger, and a gap slowly opened in the immortal light around it.
Seeing this, Li Changshou sidestepped unobtrusively, circled to the front, and asked with cupped hands: "Uncle-Master Jiu, might your disciple sit behind you?"
Jiu Jiu burst into helpless laughter. "What, over a hundred and still shy of strangers? Come sit. Your master was right that you're a cautious, careful sort."
Xuanya rose on her own and smiled with a touch of apology. "Senior Brother Li, please sit here." She stepped back two paces.
"Much obliged." Li Changshou nodded and, heeding nothing of the two sharp glances behind, calmly took the seat she had vacated. Those glances came again from Liu Yan'er and Wang Qi, offended by his "exclusion" of them, as if it cost the sect its bearing.
Li Changshou chose to ignore it.
Jiu Jiu continued to fly north atop his gourd. Liu Yan'er and Wang Qi, as if to mock Li Changshou, struck up a talk with Yuwen Ling—but the strapping fellow proved a man of few words, and the three floundered in an awkward silence until Yuan Qing joined in to smooth things over.
Li Changshou paid them no mind, his right hand tucked in his sleeve, wisps of spiritual sense spread around him.
Before deciding to head personally to the southeast of the Northern Jambu Continent, he had thought it through and asked around among the centurions of the Baifan Hall. He learned that the immortal escorting disciples out this time was Jiu Jiu, who had handled this very route before.
Though Jiu Jiu had yet to cultivate a full thousand years, his strength was by no means ordinary—he boasted mighty divine abilities, potent magic treasures from the Sect Master himself, and a cultivation near the Heavenly Immortal realm. After becoming immortals, qi cultivators rise through the stages in turn: Primordial, True, Heavenly, Golden, Great Luo, then Chaos and Boundless—the "Path of Heavenly Immortals."
More important, Jiu Jiu was one of the few immortals with a measure of friendship toward Li Changshou's master.
Li Changshou had thought a guard of this immortal far safer than braving the continent alone. He just never expected a wrinkle like this halfway along.
Out of the corner of his eye he took in Yuan Qing and Yuwen Ling, turning matters over, slow-close his eyes. He had no heart for cultivation, poised always to slip into the Wind Escape at a moment's notice.
Thankfully, sitting near Uncle-Master Jiu was a little more secure...
Er?
"Hehehe... just a single sip, we're still far from there, won't hold us up, won't hold us up..."
The immortal astride the gourd mouth gave a strange laugh, hugged his wine gourd, and stole another sip, cheeks flushing as he licked his lips with relish.
Li Changshou: ...
Then again, maybe it was better to make an excuse and split off alone. Rely on oneself, above all.
Half a day passed in silence. Sun set, dusk went by, and the sky filled with stars.
Seated on this gourd over thirty yards long, ringed by drifting immortal light, the scent of wine faint, Li Changshou read a roll of bamboo slips in quiet stillness. The others had sunk into cultivation, Yuwen Ling at the very rear. Jiu Jiu lay askew at the front, letting the wind tousle his unkempt short hair—a sight hardly like the common immortal.
Li Changshou savored the Dao arts in the slips, deducing how they circulated, yet the spiritual sense around him was never withdrawn, keeping watch over the ten yards about his person. His wary training made this no burden.
A wine gourd suddenly appeared before his eyes. Li Changshou shook his head gravely: "Many thanks, Uncle-Master, but your disciple is not fond of drink."
"Dull." Jiu Jiu rolled his eyes, hopped onto the gourd rim, and swung his slender calves. Belching, he asked in passing: "Changshou, your master... close to becoming an immortal, isn't he?"
"The tribulation should fall within three to five years." Li Changshou set the slips on his lap. Jiu Jiu was, in fact, one of the few who had set foot on Xiaoqiong Peak in the century since he joined the sect.
"Ah." Jiu Jiu sighed and, with the air of grown-old-and-gray, lectured with his back turned: "Back then we few got on well. Pity about your master—his aptitude was decent, but one injury damaged his Dao foundation, and he's never mended it. Changshou, don't look down on him for not being immortal yet. His grasp of our sect's Dao arts rivals any thousand-year immortal's..."
"What are you saying, Uncle-Master?" A hint of smile surfaced and his eyes narrowed slightly—an expression he showed before almost no one but master and junior sister. "He has given everything to teach us; to us he is as a father and mother."
"Speak of it—how is your cultivation? All these years and only the ninth stage of Nascent Soul? Can't you even fathom Return to Void?" Jiu Jiu twisted to glare at him. "Back when I joined, I heard your Xiaoqiong Peak had run out of luck. Now I see it's true. Give me your hand—let me see your constitution. Your aptitude was good when you entered, wasn't it? Don't tell me that muddled master truly muddled you!"
Li Changshou's brows knit tight. This Uncle-Master meant well, but if he let a True Immortal probe his body, his carefully sealed cultivation was bound to show!
Jiu Jiu had already reached out his wine-scented right hand. Li Changshou scooted back, grinning awkwardly: "Uncle-Master, men and women shouldn't touch—this hardly seems proper."
"Men and women shouldn't touch? Who ever said that? Never heard it!" Jiu Jiu made a face. "We who train in qi pursue utter freedom, drifting carefree through the world. Those stale rites of the mortal realm—who cares! Hold out your hand! You haven't made some error in cultivation, have you?"
"Uncle-Master, this won't do... your disciple, a few years ago, suddenly came down with a condition—touching a woman makes his whole body convulse!"
In a flash Li Changshou rose, his feet turning, two afterimages in his wake, the motion round and fluid, until he stood behind Youqin Xuanya, facing Jiu Jiu with a face full of wry smiles.
Jiu Jiu blinked, as if noticing something. That footwork he'd just used...
"The Soaring Dragon, Parting Clouds Step? Not bad at all, boy—you even learned so hard a step!" Jiu Jiu's expression turned odd. "Your master said you care only about escape techniques. Don't tell me these hundred-odd years... you spent them all on that!"
"Your disciple has always cultivated diligently, never once slac—huh?"
This gentle touch. Li Changshou looked down at the slim fair finger poking the inside of his thigh, and a few black lines instantly draped his forehead. Up the jade-pale arm, the fiery red strap and collar, and that face tilted slightly—beautiful, curious.
Youqin Xuanya!
'A condition—touching a woman makes him convulse!'
Li Changshou's mouth corners twitched madly, but he decided in an instant. This, too, was a ruthless one. Heedless of his image, his body began to tremble, teeth grinding as he forced his muscles into contortions, face twisted in pain, eyes rolling up, froth bubbling at his lips...
Dammit... Youqin Xuanya, aren't you supposed to be an ice maiden?!
You rotten girl!