21. The Painted Wall

“I…”
Lu Xun wanted to speak, but as soon as he tried to form a long sentence, it was as if something clogged his throat. The words stuck, his face flushed, and he found it even harder than before.
Mr. White Deer explained, “You’re still learning to speak—keep it short, avoid long sentences.”
Only then did the maids and servants recover from their fright.
The academy was no stranger to monsters, but the sight of the Five-Pass Lu Xun was truly terrifying.
He stood over seven feet tall; by standard measure, the Lord of Five-Pass Mountain was about two meters and thirty centimeters, with a fierce, red face and blue fangs—a sight so fearsome that even if he were a man, not a monster, his presence would stop children from crying.
Lu Xun bowed to Mr. White Deer. To make a monster speak was no small feat.
He was not counted among the academy’s monsters, and Mr. White Deer had no real obligation to enlighten him. Turning to the purple-bearded elder, he said, “No, southeast.”
Zhu Xianzhen looked at the Lord of Five-Pass Mountain in surprise.
“Academy, study, good.”
“Do not disturb, Cheng Yan.”
Lu Xun spoke in bursts of one or two words, but his meaning was clear—he hoped they would not disrupt Cheng Yan’s studies or martial training.
“If he won’t go, will you?” Zhu Xianzhen asked directly, having pieced together Lu Xun’s halting words.
To be frank, a newly grown youth without magic or true energy, even if he trained in martial arts for ten years, would at best become a squad leader or, if lucky, a centurion by military merit. Even if he managed to cultivate true energy or magical power, it would hardly change the situation in the southeast.
A great monster who had mastered the Ape Fist, however, was a different matter altogether.
Used well, he could be a game-changer.
They had never truly come for Cheng Yan; their questions had always been aimed at Lu Xun.
Lu Xun understood instantly—they were after him.
“Not going!”
His refusal was unequivocal.
Zhu Xianzhen rose in anger, flung down his black chess piece, and stormed off, his sleeves billowing with fury.
“Lord Zhu.” The three others hurried after him.
Sun Shen was left in an awkward spot, not sure whether to stay or go. He sighed, “This is my fault.”
“Old Zhu, why argue with a child?”
“Don’t forget what’s happening tonight!”
Mr. White Deer smiled helplessly and gestured to Sun Shen, “Go on, keep an eye on your lord. He’s too old to be so hot-tempered—anger harms the body.”
Sun Shen cupped his hands and left in long strides.
Lu Xun was left standing there, utterly baffled.
“He came to invite me. I refused. He invited you, and you refused as well. That’s why he’s angry. Don’t take it personally.”
Mr. White Deer turned to Lu Xun.
“No, don’t involve Cheng Yan,” Lu Xun shook his head.
Using Cheng Yan as an entry point was something he could not accept.
He himself was immune to promises or enticements, but Cheng Yan was still young and easily swayed by the favor or promises of powerful people.

“This was my fault,” Mr. White Deer said, bowing deeply.
Lu Xun quickly dodged aside, surprised that Mr. White Deer would bow and admit fault to a mere little monster like himself.
“It’s good that it’s resolved.”
Lu Xun did not press the matter or demand further explanation, knowing it would only harm their standing at the academy.
He clasped his hands in a salute and took his leave.
Outside,
Sun Shen was waiting. When he saw Lu Xun, he approached, his tone heavy, “About this matter…”
Lu Xun nodded without elaboration. Sun Shen, by duty, had to report any contacts to Lord Zhu.
Zhu Xianzhen had come to recruit talent, wanting the academy’s headmaster to join them. It was understandable that he was displeased after being rebuffed, but once the misunderstanding was cleared up, there was no harm done.
In any case, Lu Xun’s actions were aboveboard.
“Truly not going to the southeast?” Sun Shen still asked with a note of hope.
He genuinely wished Lu Xun would make the journey.
But Lu Xun only shook his head.
He had his own affairs.
“Alright.”
Sun Shen did not press further. True friendship required knowing where to stop. Instead he asked, “Still training in martial arts?”
He did not want this business to affect the Lord of Five-Pass Mountain.
It was rare to meet a great monster so compatible, especially one so well suited for the Ape Fist. It would be a shame if he stopped training.
“Training!”
The response was firm and resolute.
A smile spread across Sun Shen’s face.
“Let’s pause for today.”
“Tomorrow, same time as always.”
…
On the back mountain behind the academy stood a dilapidated Zen temple.
The exact date of its construction was long forgotten.
The statue of Wei Tuo was half buried in rubble, the Buddha’s features blurred, only the head visible; most of the statues were piled in the back hall, overrun with wild grass. After some patchwork repairs, it became a place for students to amuse themselves. Later, the academy’s bigwigs took it over, turning it into eateries, taverns, inns, gambling dens, and brothels, giving it a new lease on life.
The mountaintop was still a small place, only a tenth as bustling as the foot of the mountain, but with the academy nearby, it was still a golden business.
“Wanna play a few rounds?”
Zhou Changcai slung an arm around Cheng Yan’s shoulders, pointing at a brightly lit gatehouse in the distance.
“Not interested.” Cheng Yan had no taste for such things.
“How about a stroll inside? I heard there’s a new girl in town,” Wu Aguai grinned.
Cheng Yan declined, “I’m still practicing purity cultivation.”
He feared the atmosphere inside might sweep him up.

“Well then…”
“Let’s get something to eat.”
“Alright.”
The group arrived at the eatery, ordered four hot dishes and two cold, and called for a pot of plum wine. Once they’d eaten and drunk their fill, Zhou Changcai and Wu Aguai left first, leaving Lü He still seated.
Cheng Yan noticed the look in his eyes and asked, “Lü, why aren’t you going? If it’s because of money…”
“It’s about favors.”
Cheng Yan paused.
Lü He repeated, “One ends up owing too many favors.”
He gazed into the distance, his expression complicated and wistful. “My family was poor when I was young, and we received help from others. My old mother always wanted to repay the kindness with good game, but when we finally had enough, she was hurt and couldn’t hunt anymore, so she turned to fishing instead.”
He tucked his hands into his sleeves, pressed his lips together, and a look of envy finally crossed his eyes. “I’ve owed too much—I worry I’ll never be able to repay it all.”
Cheng Yan came back to himself, the frustration and heavy facade on his face vanishing without a trace.
He laughed, stood up, and said, “You’re right, Lü.” He felt a surge of the old hero’s ambition—if he truly went to the southeast, he might not survive.
Now he suddenly understood the solemn look on Uncle Cat’s face and the two words he’d written.
“Shall we walk?”
“Let’s go.”
The two left the eatery and headed toward the rear courtyard of the Zen temple.
Grey Treasure crouched on Cheng Yan’s shoulder, its little black eyes darting about. Suddenly, it perked up, sniffed the air, and pointed in a direction.
Before long, the two young men and the mouse crossed the courtyard and the corridor, stopping at an empty room—little used, yet strangely free of dust.
The doors and windows had long disappeared. Inside, a few pillars still held up the roof. On the distant wall, a mural depicted flying celestials, with gorgeous pavilions and towers as bright as a market of lights.
“What a painting!”
Lü He exclaimed at the skill.
Just then, a maiden surrounded by clouds and mist floated close from the mural, smiling as she reached out a pale, slender arm.
Startled, Cheng Yan grabbed for his sword, ready to draw, but in the next moment, everything vanished as if it had been an illusion. No beautiful maiden remained. To avoid accidentally injuring Lü He, Cheng Yan did not unsheath the blade. He spoke in a low voice, “Lü, be careful. This place is unusual—there may be monsters at work.”
Lü He nodded and began to back away.
But before they could leave the empty room, mist poured out from the mural.
When they regained their senses, both had vanished without a trace.
Grey Treasure tumbled onto its backside, squeaking anxiously.
It tapped its tiny paw against the mural depicting the market. The painting rippled like water, and the paw sank in—almost the whole mouse disappeared inside.
Grey Treasure scrambled back in fright.
Glancing once at the now empty room behind, it dashed away without a backward glance.