The old Daoist priest, as if victory were already within his grasp, leisurely formed a hand seal. His left hand held a brilliant gleam of white light, and he smiled warmly at Li Xiangping.
Li Xiangping said nothing. He drew out a pale yellow talisman, slapped it onto his own body, and instantly a shield of pure white light rose around him. Turning, he sprinted toward the lake.
The old Daoist was not angered in the least. He patted the storage pouch at his waist, tucked the jade pendant safely away, and only then followed with a knowing grin — yet his small eyes watched Li Xiangping's every movement with vigilance, while he thought to himself:
"How strange. Could that be a Jade Yuan Talisman of the Qingchi Sect? The two sects reached an understanding long ago; the Qingchi disciples from Moonview Lake to the Xunlin Plain should have withdrawn by now."
"No, if he were a Qingchi disciple there'd be no need to flee. This man must have some connection to the Qingchi Sect. I must be careful, or I'll end up capsizing in the ditch. Let him run. By the time his mana is spent, no talisman or treasure will avail him."
Like a specter, the old Daoist drifted unhurriedly behind Li Xiangping. The more he thought, the more delighted he grew, nearly laughing aloud.
"Heaven truly helps me. The Qingchi people have withdrawn, the Tang Gold Gate folk have gone south to pick the windfall, and this lad, in his panic, flees heedlessly north into Tang Gold Gate territory. It seems fortune itself intends this for me."
The more the old Daoist mused, the more agitated he became — recalling how, centuries ago, the great inheritor of the immortal estate had cut a sweeping path through all who opposed him, and recalling his master's words on his deathbed.
The old Daoist had once been a loose cultivator under the rule of Tang Gold Gate. When his master's lifespan drew near its end, he had passed on a jade pendant to him, and cupping the twenty-year-old's face in his hands, had said:
"Centuries ago, during the chaos of the immortal estate's inheritor, my branch of the lineage was caught up in it as well. This jade pendant came from that man."
"That fierce one cultivated a divine body of dharma; his flesh, sinew and bone were all heaven-and-earth treasures. And so the Three Sects and Seven Gates tore him into four ragged pieces. We loose cultivators had no share in even a scrap of the flesh, so we could only use our vessels to collect the blood that splashed out in the struggle. Your patriarch, amid that rain of blood, picked up this jade pendant, and suffered grave wounds for it. When he returned, he sat in meditation and passed away."
In those days the old Daoist had still been a young apprentice, gaping as he listened while his master, breathing faintly, said in a weak voice:
"Your master-uncle and I studied it for over a hundred thirty years and gleaned some clues. This jade pendant should hold the inheritance of the immortal estate — only, it lacks another treasure... You... may well go out into the world and seek it..."
The old Daoist was still lost in thought when the man ahead suddenly halted. Turning, he flashed a pair of fierce, hawk-like eyes that glared at him with murderous intent, startling the old Daoist into stopping short.
Rather put out at having lost face, the old Daoist sneered:
"What, come to your senses?"
Li Xiangping let out a cold laugh in turn. In his hand rose a grayish-green mirror, its surface flickering with white light as a strong, perilous sensation crashed against the old Daoist's face.
"Damn it, so he does have something after all."
The old Daoist screeched in alarm. In an instant, a dozen talismans startled into burst around him, before his body rose a great shield gleaming with golden light. Both hands formed seals as he poured mana swiftly into it.
The whole set of operations flowed like water, completed in a single breath. The old Daoist ordinarily buried himself in cultivation and rarely fought others — he had honed this one move for thirty-odd years, and more than once it was this stacked combination of spells and talismans that had kept him alive.
Yet this danger-sense vanished in a trice. The old Daoist blinked in confusion, and by then Li Xiangping had already shot off into the distance like a startled hare.
The old Daoist came to his senses at last. With a vicious curse, he dispelled the spell in his hands and sneered:
"Plenty of petty tricks, aren't there?"
With a light stamp of his foot, he closed the distance like a specter — only to see Li Xiangping flash out the mirror, its white light blazing balefully upon him. The perilous sensation surged against his face. Unhesitatingly, he struck out a dozen talismans once more and raised a great golden shield.
"Idiot!"
From ahead floated a mocking laugh. The old Daoist, though he had cultivated for years and prided himself on a calm temper, now felt a fury he could scarcely contain. Coalescing several threads of golden light in his hand, he swept the great shield away, intent on smiting Li Xiangping dead with a single spell.
But no sooner had the great shield dispersed than, reflected in the old Daoist's pupils, there appeared a pure, flawless, rolling surge of white light.
—
Li Xuanxuan paced restlessly in the courtyard. Family head Li Xiangping had not returned all night, and the men stationed at Lidaokou reported they had seen no strange vision of white light either.
"It was agreed that they would release that Profound Lunar Radiance and then withdraw home. It shouldn't have taken more than a few hours in total!"
Gazing at the dawn that slowly rose, the unease in Li Xuanxuan's heart grew stronger by the moment, until it all but drove him to charge out the door and head to the Wan family to investigate the situation.
Last night, a series of golden streaks of light had flashed across the eastern sky, winking out after barely a quarter of an hour. Li Xuanxuan had stood alone atop Lijing Mountain all night against the night wind, silently clenching his fists.
"If it comes to the worst..."
Li Xuanxuan's eyes were faintly red as name after name surfaced in his mind.
"Li Yesheng, Li Qiuyang, Chen Erniu..."
Li Tongya was still on Crown Cloud Peak, and Li Xiangping's life-or-death was unknown. At this moment, the only direct-line person capable of managing the family was none other than the thirteen-year-old Li Xuanxuan, beneath whom stood Li Xuanfeng, only seven, and Li Xuanling, barely five.
"Young family head!"
A low call roused Li Xuanxuan. When the boy raised his head he was already beaming, and he said warmly, with a gentle smile:
"Uncle Yesheng? Is something the matter?"
"I searched Meichi Mountain and Lijing Mountain a few times, but I couldn't find the family head..."
Li Yesheng stroked his beard, his brow low as he said in a grave voice.
He, too, had seen the golden light in the sky the night before, and had been preparing to report it to Li Xiangping — but he had searched twice and simply could not find his trace.
"Uncle was suddenly struck by a realization last night and has entered seclusion, preparing to break through."
Li Xuanxuan smiled lightly and explained, meeting Li Yesheng's eyes.
"Ah, I see!"
It was only then that Li Yesheng understood, and smiled:
"So the family head is in seclusion in the rear courtyard of Lijing Mountain this time?"
Li Xuanxuan's heart skipped a beat, though his face betrayed nothing as he answered:
"Precisely."
Li Yesheng nodded, cleverly steering the topic elsewhere. He reported to Li Xuanxuan what had transpired in the village over the past few days, then took his leave.
Only after watching Li Yesheng leave the mountain did Li Xuanxuan slowly sit down in the seat of honor in the courtyard — sitting in that vast, empty yard, his face dark, staring toward the edge of the sky.
Down the mountain.
Li Yesheng hurried into the courtyard, untying his outer robe and handing it to the servant who came up to meet him, and called out with a frown:
"Li Xiewen!"
When no one answered from the courtyard, Li Yesheng belatedly remembered that Li Xiewen had been sent by Li Xiangping to Lidaokou.
Accepting the bowl he was offered, he sat down in the seat of honor and said in a low voice:
"Has there been any movement from Li Qiuyang?"
"No, none."
Taking a light sip of tea, Li Yesheng knitted his brow tightly and pressed on:
"Did the Wan family send anyone to beg for aid today?"
"No, steward, not yet."
Li Yesheng's expression grew stern all at once. He looked at the assembled men, his brow low, and in a voice so soft it was barely audible, asked:
"And the main branch... has anyone been sent... to take control of the family troops?"
When he saw the men shaking their heads in turn, Li Yesheng let out a long, deep breath, and a trace of a smile appeared on his face.
"I was overthinking things."