Chapter Thirty-Nine: Radiance

Old Yu came to stand before the Flower Cocoon, her heart a tangled web, uncertain how to handle what lay before her.

For Hua Jian, without Jiang Pingchuan, it was death or perhaps worse; above all, she dreaded harming Jiang Pingchuan and still gaining nothing for herself.

And that was exactly what had transpired—regardless of what had just occurred, it all came down to a single result.

She had seized Jiang Pingchuan’s Dao Crystal, the black-robed figure vanished with it, and she was left empty-handed.

A sharp, tearing sound filled the air.

Crackling noises followed.

Old Yu watched as strange sounds emanated from the Flower Cocoon, her nerves taut. She quickly steadied herself and circled the cocoon, searching for a clue.

But she found nothing. As she lifted her gaze, she froze.

The top of the Flower Cocoon was beginning to char and blacken. The crackling came from the rapid evaporation of moisture inside the vines, causing them to wither, blacken, and snap.

As the entire top of the cocoon’s vines died, the shell turned black in an instant, as though scorched by a raging fire.

The heat, dryness, and oppressive air forced Old Yu to retreat from the cocoon.

A sharp crack sounded just as she stepped back, and the Flower Cocoon shattered, fragments exploding outward.

Old Yu shielded herself, but the shards had already disintegrated to dust and scattered to the ground.

The flowers and grasses swayed in the breeze, as if nourished by the black powder, stretching themselves luxuriously.

Or perhaps they were trying to shake off the dust that had settled on them, so as not to mar their beauty.

Lifting her pink gauzy skirts, Old Yu tiptoed to the center of the cocoon. There lay Jiang Pingchuan, quiet and unmoving, not a trace of black dust upon him.

His white robe was spotless. Old Yu had always known Jiang Pingchuan was no ordinary man; this only deepened her heartache.

If Jiang Pingchuan’s future cultivation was hindered by the loss of his two Dao Crystals, Old Yu truly had no idea how she could ever make it up to him.

Jiang Pingchuan remained lying on the ground, though he was awake. The version of himself that had appeared moments ago outside was merely a phantom.

He had left that astral projection to observe the Gate of Time and Space, as a precaution in case he lost the Dao Crystals, but fate had found another use for it.

He had seen the black-robed figure, and many questions that had long plagued his heart were now dispelled.

He did not wish to get up simply because lying on this meadow felt so pleasant—just as when, as a child, he would lie carefree on the great stone by the mountain gate, chewing on a stalk of foxtail grass as the wind played over him, his brother nearby, and most of all, his beloved Hua.

He sighed. “Why are you still here? You’re making this awfully awkward for me.”

Jiang Pingchuan could no longer hold back. He sat up, looking at Old Yu, who sat hugging her knees at his side.

Seeing him rise, Old Yu, her cheeks flushed, found it almost amusing. He had lost his Dao Crystals, and yet Jiang Pingchuan still had the heart to joke.

“If anyone should be embarrassed, it’s me. I’m sorry.”

She turned to look at him, blue eyes swirling with emotion—the tears of her beastkin heritage. Jiang Pingchuan pursed his lips and waved his hand dismissively, stopping her before she could speak.

“There’s no need to apologize. We each had our own needs. I gave you the Dao Crystal, so now, show me what I came to see.”

He didn’t want her apology because, in his mind, he had exchanged the Dao Crystal for a chance to witness the Gate of Time and Space.

The Dao Crystal was now hers. Regardless of whose hands it had ended up in, Old Yu had not yet fulfilled her promise to him.

“Well, actually… the truth is…” Old Yu, hearing his words, looked blankly at him, rubbing her head in distress. Jiang Pingchuan, seeing this, felt a rising sense of dread.

“If you have something to say, just say it and stop beating around the bush.”

His long, willow-like brows knit together, a silver light flickering in his eyes—for reasons unknown, the loss of his two Dao Crystals had actually broken through some of his internal restraints, enhancing many of his abilities. His silver gaze now could discern the essence of all things, see ghosts and spirits.

“In truth, the Gate of Time and Space was an illusion conjured by the black-robed man. I… I’ve long since lost the power to open it.”

Barely had she finished when Old Yu buried her face in her knees and began to sob, not waiting for Jiang Pingchuan’s outrage.

His face darkened, as though struck by lightning. Never in his life had anyone outwitted him—raised in the Daoist sanctum of Maoshan, he had never suffered a loss. Yet today he’d been thoroughly played. Stiff-faced, he stood, confusion and disbelief masking his features.

“You know,” he said, looking at the weeping Old Yu, “I never lose out.”

Leaving these words, Jiang Pingchuan turned and unleashed the highest level of power he could muster, stepping forward lightly and walking straight out of Old Yu’s labyrinthine illusion.

The bright moon hung overhead. The silent night was scattered with stars and lit by the pale green glow of fireflies, illuminating the wild forest of flowers in every hue.

Jiang Pingchuan saw Zhou Ning’er lying on the grass, sleeping sweetly. He didn’t wake her. The world around them was utterly still.

He gently took Zhou Ning’er’s hand and hoisted her onto his back, carrying her through the wild grass in the direction from which they had come.

Every step into the grass disturbed the hiding fireflies, and with each stride he seemed a lantern-bearer, lighting clusters of ghostly green lights beneath his feet.

Above, the heavens were studded with stars. Fireflies flickered and danced, their lights bright and dim. In that gentle glow, a man carried a sleeping maiden through the woods.

Behind him, clusters of lights followed, while sentient plants along the forest path sparkled with spiritual energy, illuminating the way at his feet.

Watching these lights, the man let go of his troubles and walked on, smiling. Unbeknownst to him, the girl on his back had opened her bright eyes, watching him earnestly as he walked on.

Not far off, a woman in a gauzy dress stood beneath the trees, her gaze complex as she watched the luminous pair pass slowly by.

When Jiang Pingchuan finally entered the town with Zhou Ning’er on his back, the lights behind them faded. He shook Zhou Ning’er gently.

He headed for the noodle shop again. With Zhou Ning’er on his back, he felt a soft warmth, and whenever he quickened his pace, he could hear her soft, breathless sounds behind him. Smiling, Jiang Pingchuan stepped into the shop.

By now, the noodle shop had long since closed, but Zhou Ning’er had yet to return home, so Zhou Fu and Xiao Wu remained, waiting for their return.

As Jiang Pingchuan walked in, he paused in surprise. The atmosphere was different. Aside from Manager Zhou, his wife, and Xiao Wu, there was a richly dressed youth fanning himself.

Three men in matching attire stood behind him—this, undoubtedly, was Gao Yao, the county magistrate’s son. Jiang Pingchuan set Zhou Ning’er down, and Manager Zhou and his wife helped her to a table.

Jiang Pingchuan glanced at Gao Yao but said nothing. Gao Yao, his face thunderous, clicked his tongue in disdain, radiating the arrogance of a spoiled, wealthy scion.

“Who is this blind fool? What’s happened to my little darling? Oh, oh, my heart aches for her!”

With a flourish, Gao Yao snapped his fan shut and strode to Zhou Ning’er’s side. Manager Zhou and his wife stood protectively before her, earning Gao Yao’s scowl.

Behind him, the three constables half-drew their broadswords with a menacing hiss. Manager Zhou, his wife, and Xiao Wu all froze. Clearly, stopping Gao Yao was impossible—in Sanjiang County, no one dared challenge him.

“What are you doing? Can’t you see you’re frightening my in-laws? Idiots, idiots, idiots!”

Smack, smack, smack!

Gao Yao turned, scowling at the three subordinates with their half-drawn swords, and rapped each sharply on the head with his folded fan.

Then, seeing Jiang Pingchuan, Gao Yao sneered, waved his fan in Jiang’s face, and returned to Zhou Ning’er.

“Step aside! My little darling, out in the middle of the night with some filthy man—if anything happens to her, you’ll regret it, mark my words.”

He pointed his fan at Manager Zhou and his wife, shoving them aside, his greedy eyes fixed on Zhou Ning’er, slumped over the table.

Suddenly—

“My darling, I—ow!”

Before Gao Yao could even reach for her, a bowl of noodles was upended over his head from behind.

Broth streamed down his neck, soaking him to the bone, noodles clinging everywhere. Gao Yao trembled with rage, fists clenched, lips quivering.