Chapter 109: First Rank Studio
Chapter 109: First Rank Studio
“West of Jianshui City, Hengling Mountain Range!”
After telling the coachman the destination, Mu Feng sat cross-legged inside the carriage quietly. He either closed his eyes to rest or admired the scenery passing by with Jing Wushuang.
The tall carriage was indeed sturdy; it moved along with almost no sense of bumps or jolts. Without the coachman needing to shout much, the strong white horse pulled the carriage forward, passing one bustling street after another, crossing the ancient gates of Jianning City, heading westward onto the road toward Jianshui City. It truly was an experienced old horse.
Compared to some spirited young horses, it might fall slightly short in speed and strength, but it was well-trained, quite perceptive, and better suited for long-distance travel.
As soon as they left Jianning City, Jing Wushuang’s expression grew paler. She lifted the curtain to look outside, turning back frequently, as though trying to etch every blade of grass and tree firmly in her heart. As she looked, her eyes grew redder and redder, and silent teardrops started to slide down.
Seeing her sorrow, Mu Feng thought she was worried about her gravely ill elder brother, Sky Splitting Tiger. He softly reassured her, “Shuang’er, don’t worry. Big brother has a strong will; he’ll definitely hold on until we reach the Poison Sect and bring back the Yang Soul Pill. Though Jianshui City is far away, with this carriage, we’ll be back in at most a month.”
“Mmm.”
Jing Wushuang responded quietly, lowering her head to wipe away her tears, not daring to look at Mu Feng any longer.
With Ghost Mother Granny’s personal letter, she wasn’t overly concerned about the trip to the Poison Sect. Yet, the sorrow and longing in her heart—for Mu Feng sitting beside her—he simply didn’t understand.
To enter the Poison Sect was like stepping into an ocean vast beyond measure. Leaving this time, perhaps the two of them would never meet again!
Right now, for her, it wasn’t that the carriage was moving too slowly, but too fast! If possible, she wished she and Mu Feng were walking instead, leaning on each other as they went, on a journey that would never end!
“Brother Mu Feng, I made you a little sachet. See if it’s suitable?” Jing Wushuang pulled out a coarse cloth sachet from her bosom.
The fabric was simple, plain, far from the silks used by wealthy families, but the craftsmanship was meticulous. On the little sachet, an image was embroidered: a grove of bamboo gently swaying, its green stalks holding a few magpies. Once hung, a faint, continuous fragrance drifted into the nose. Faintly, one could even sense a hint of Jing Wushuang’s body warmth.
A tiny little sachet, as though it had merged their two bodies into one!
“Very good. The hanging cord is just the right length. Thank you, Shuang’er.”
Reaching under his long robe to touch the sachet now worn on his person, Mu Feng felt a warmth inside. Sitting cross-legged inside the carriage, he focused his gaze: eyes on the nose, nose to the heart. Calmly, peacefully, he began cultivating right then and there. He seized every possible moment for cultivation, aiming straight at the Elite Realm.
Only by breaking through to this realm could he confront his mother for answers, to understand his origins in detail. Only then could he possibly raise his strength to a whole new level, enough to face his powerful enemy, Chief Transmission Disciple Mu Tie!
Seeing him begin deep cultivation, Jing Wushuang said no more. She picked up an old book from the book basket and began flipping through its pages slowly.
“Life is the continuation of death;
Death is the beginning of life.
In the Great Thousand World, all that lives must die.
The former life is a fragment of memory;
This life is but a fleeting dream;
…”
Jing Wushuang murmured the words in a voice only she could hear. As she read, suddenly her nose started to ache again.
People often said: five hundred years of tranquil cultivation in the past life were needed to earn a chance meeting in this one. Eight hundred years accumulating wholesome virtue and good deeds were needed for the fortune of a mere glance exchanged when paths crossed in this life. If two people could truly come together, it was a great karmic affinity. But in the next life, they might become mere strangers passing by unknowing.
Remembering what Ghost Mother had said, Jing Wushuang felt worse and worse inside. The book “Past and Present Lives” in her hands became impossible to continue reading.
After realizing it was merely a music score, Mu Feng, disappointed, had stopped bothering with it. Jing Wushuang, however, hadn’t given up. She’d gone through it carefully again and again, imprinting every sentence, every character, until she could recite them backwards. Sadly, no matter how much she pondered, she couldn’t see beyond the words.
Setting down the old book, Jing Wushuang lifted the curtain and stared vacantly at the scenery outside.
Headed westward straight after leaving Jianning City, endless farmlands spread over the land not far out. Traveling for half an hour or more, they entered rolling mountain ranges. The tall carriage wound back and forth on precarious mountain roads, sometimes squeezed onto stretches barely wide enough for a single carriage. As far as the eye could see, verdant peaks filled the view.
Jianning City sat on the frontier, in the south of the vast Tongtian Dynasty. Here, everywhere you looked were steep mountains extending across hundreds of thousands of miles.
Green hills, clear rivers, the narrow, uneven official road, the simple villages along the way…
Jing Wushuang kept staring out the window as one village after another, thin cooking smoke curling upwards, drifted behind her. After some long while—whether from sadness or poor sleep the night before—she started feeling exhausted. She was about to lower the curtain when suddenly an elegant annex courtyard beside the road caught her eye. Black tiles on blue bricks, ancient in style—at first glance, it looked quite similar to the Green Mountain Villa her father had left them.
“St—stop! Stop the carriage!”
Thinking of their former home, burned to the ground by that despicable rich youth Mu Qingyuan, Jing Wushuang cried out instinctively. Almost immediately after her call, the coachman flicked his whip. The carriage, racing swiftly along the official road, came to a perfectly smooth stop.
“Brother Mu Feng, look at that courtyard! I want to get down and walk!”
Pulling the curtain open wider, Jing Wushuang stared with wide eyes at the annex nestled among trees near the road. A faint haze of sorrow covered her face.
“Get out right now?”
Mu Feng opened his eyes in puzzlement.
The situation was serious for his injured brother, Sky Splitting Tiger—Mu Feng practically wished he could sprout wings and fly straight there, the faster the better. Unexpectedly, not long after leaving Jianning City, Jing Wushuang had the coachman halt the carriage. Following her gaze, taking in the blue brick, black tile annex courtyard, he finally understood. Clearly, she was reminded of her sorrows by the resemblance. It evoked thoughts of her burned-down former residence. “Alright, let’s go. We’ll both go take a look!”
Instructing the coachman to wait briefly, Mu Feng helped Jing Wushuang jump down from the tall carriage. They approached the antiquated annex courtyard in its ancient style.
It sat within a remote, small mountain village, pedestrians scarce. Surrounding the annex courtyard was a large stand of tall bamboo groves. Glancing toward it while still on the official road, only a tiny fragment of the courtyard was faintly visible. It was unnoticeable unless looked at closely. Who could imagine that within such a plain little mountain village, there stood an annex courtyard of this kind?
Treading a path of crushed stone, Mu Feng and Jing Wushuang passed between bamboo stands rustling softly. They reached the gate of the annex.
Many flowers, plants, and trees grew around the entry—brilliant, lush colors abounding. Though, most numerous by far were the bamboo stalks local to that region called ‘Emerald Bamboo.’ Seen from beyond the bamboo grove, the bamboo swayed all around. Only after stepping deep inside did one discover this entire annex courtyard sat planted squarely inside what seemed like an unending sea of green bamboo. A gentle breeze would stir the bamboo sea to create waves of rushing sound; the air was unusually fresh.
Its great doors were tightly shut. Yet faintly, faintly carried on the wind, was the distinct, melodic sound of a flute. The music was extremely soft, drifting in and out like a ghost, so evanescent that even Mu Feng couldn’t decide clearly whether it came from within the courtyard or was drifting from someplace else. Lifting his gaze, he also saw couplets fixed to pillars flanking the doors.
On the left: ‘Ranked in first tier of officials? Study text a hundred times!’
On the right: ‘Enjoying a cup of fine tea? Blank paper makes one free!’
Above it hung a horizontal plaque: First Rank Studio!