Chapter Thirty-Five: A Sudden Enlightenment

Beside the small lake, Zhao’er anxiously watched the hazy silhouette standing silently at the water’s edge, unable to resist complaining to Old Sun, “Ever since the young master left the study, he’s been standing at the lakeside, silent for three days and nights. I’m worried sick!”

Old Sun smiled amiably. “Then you needn’t worry. I wager the third young master has not suffered misfortune this time, but instead gained something extraordinary!”

“But how can you say that, Steward Sun?” Zhao’er asked, confused.

“The third young master received guidance from his father and entered a state of profound enlightenment. When he emerges, his swordsmanship will surely advance!”

“I don’t understand martial arts, but isn’t swordsmanship supposed to be honed through practice?” Zhao’er’s brows knitted delicately.

“You only grasp part of it. A sword has two edges, and swordsmanship is much the same. If one does not understand their own heart and body, they cannot forge a bold and unrestrained path with the sword. The master is seizing the chance to guide the young master. His progress in swordsmanship is swift, and he trains in the Threefold Sword Technique, which is fierce and ruthless. Without enlightenment, he could easily lose his way. Only by overcoming this hurdle can he find his own sword path. I wonder what insight the young master will gain this time.”

Old Sun glanced at Zhao’er, as if by accident, and remarked, “Zhao’er, are you perhaps too concerned about the third young master?”

Zhao’er’s heart tightened, and she feigned indifference. “Steward Sun, what are you saying? I am the young master’s maid; naturally, I care for him. Isn’t it right to worry about him?”

“The third young master is of great importance to his father, who regards him as his true heir. You haven’t seen how fierce the master once was,” Old Sun’s eyes flickered with fear, “he was unrivaled, capable of anything. Fortunately, there was the heroic Linghu Ye to counsel him, preventing any calamities. The master knows I serve the emperor, ranked third among the inner guards; though he says nothing, we must act with utmost caution. The young master is at an age of longing; do not use your charms to tempt him or seek gain. If he neglects his swordsmanship, don’t say I didn’t warn you!” His tone was unmistakably grave.

Zhao’er hurriedly bowed her head, a blush spreading to her slender neck. Both anxious and embarrassed, she whispered, “I understand.”

Just then, a soft sound came from the lakeside. In the cold dawn, Zhou Qian exhaled, his breath forming a white mist two or three feet long. After the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, he sighed, “Heaven and earth are benevolent, yet treat all things as straw dogs!”

“Heaven and earth are benevolent—doesn’t it mean they are indifferent?” Old Sun murmured.

At that moment, Zhou Qian was extremely weak, swaying as if about to collapse. Old Sun quickly stepped forward to support him, instructing Zhao’er, “Take the young master to wash and rest.”

Zhao’er struggled to hold Zhou Qian, placing him on the bed and wiping his face. At first, she thought nothing of it, but after Old Sun’s admonition, she realized how close she had become to Zhou Qian both publicly and privately. Though she treated him as her deceased younger brother, others would not see it that way. Moreover, Zhou Qian, at fourteen or fifteen, was already showing the traits of a young man. Rising before dawn to practice swordsmanship had given his handsome face a hint of weathered strength. Zhao’er couldn’t help but be entranced. After a long while, she snapped back to herself, clutching her burning cheeks—what was she thinking?

Zhou Qian slept for an entire day, only to find himself back in his own bed upon waking. He quietly examined himself, feeling as though his mind was a freshly polished mirror—clear and bright. An indescribable sense of ease washed over him; where once he saw no direction, now a faint path was revealed. He recalled how his master had pointed out his flaws, forcing him to confront himself, and then he had sought enlightenment by the lake.

“Though my master’s words made sense, they shouldn’t have made me feel so suddenly awakened. Did he use some kind of beguiling technique?” Such skills were dangerous, harming others invisibly; hearing them could cause madness or loss of will. The Lion’s Roar from Putuo Temple and the Enchanting Melody of the Valley of Evil were prime examples, the former being fiercely righteous, the latter exploiting the gaps in one’s heart. Zhou Xun was an old hand in the martial world—perhaps not deeply skilled, but certainly knowledgeable—so Zhou Qian speculated.

Zhou Qian then took out his sword and practiced a set of movements, immediately finding that the sections once awkward and difficult were now smooth and connected, filling him with joy.

“Zhao’er?” Zhou Qian turned to see Zhao’er approaching with a basin, and couldn’t help but greet her.

Zhao’er blushed, hurriedly bowed, and fled, leaving Zhou Qian feeling rather frustrated.

With nothing else to do, Zhou Qian decided to return to the Fragrant Pavilion to learn a few more skills from Old Hei. But upon entering, he sensed something was off: the waiters were all rubbing their hands together, eager for action.

“What’s going on?” Zhou Qian grabbed a familiar attendant to ask.

“Some old Taoist actually dared to dine and dash at our Fragrant Pavilion. Isn’t that courting death?” With that, he grabbed a rolling pin and ran upstairs.

Curious, Zhou Qian followed, and upon entering a private room, found it filled with people. Seven or eight attendants were trying to drag down a filthy old Taoist sprawled across a table covered in the remnants of a wild feast.

The Taoist had a bulbous nose and a round face; his robes were so dirty their original color was unclear, and his topknot was askew. He lay sleeping soundly on the table.

Strangely, no matter how the attendants pulled, the Taoist remained unmoved. Zhou Qian narrowed his eyes, thinking, “This Taoist is peculiar!” The combined strength of those attendants was several hundred pounds—good martial artists would need effort to remain steady, yet the Taoist’s limp, soft body didn't budge. It was intriguing.

“What’s the use of you lot?” Li Puyuan roared, pushing aside a few attendants.

Li Puyuan was the fourth disciple of Master Yi Shan, exceptionally gifted and powerfully built, possessing the strength of a thousand pounds. He pushed aside the others, shouted, and muscles bulged as he tried to lift the Taoist. But the Taoist didn’t move. Li Puyuan lost face, used all his strength, and with a ‘crack!’ accidentally broke a leg off the table. The Taoist stretched lazily, changed position, and continued to snore.

Now everyone sensed something strange. Someone whispered, “Why not report it to the authorities? Have the city guards deal with him.”

Zhou Qian frowned. Though the Taoist abused his abilities to eat for free, it seemed improper to involve the authorities, as he’d be in real trouble then. The Six Gates Bureau had plenty of experts and was not as gentle as the Fragrant Pavilion staff.

“Master Li, everyone, I’ll pay for the Taoist’s meal,” Zhou Qian suddenly interjected.

“You know this Taoist?” Li Puyuan asked, frowning.

“No, I do not.”

Li Puyuan stared at Zhou Qian for a long moment, finally snorting, “You’re half a member of the Fragrant Pavilion yourself. If you want to meddle, so be it. The meal cost is ten taels and nine coins; it’ll be deducted from your monthly wages!” With a wave of his sleeve, he strode away.

The others, seeing no more excitement, dispersed. Zhou Qian approached the Taoist, and was assaulted by the sour stench of excessive drinking, forcing him to hold his breath.

“Old Taoist, the bill is paid. You can leave now!” Zhou Qian gently patted the Taoist’s back.

A loud snore answered him. Zhou Qian smiled wryly, not believing for a moment that the Taoist hadn’t heard him. He pushed tentatively; the Taoist’s body shifted. Zhou Qian was pleased, and despite the smell, hoisted the Taoist onto his back and left the Fragrant Pavilion. He intended to drop the Taoist at some inn with a few coins, considering it a kindness.

Unexpectedly, he ran into Old Sun, who looked hurried. Seeing Zhou Qian, Old Sun exclaimed, “Young master, come back to the manor at once! Don’t you know today is your apprenticeship banquet?”

Zhou Qian’s expression changed. He thought, “Did master arrange this long ago? It makes sense—I spent three days by the lake and slept another day and night. If master planned it before enlightening me, I wouldn’t know. Surely no one expected me to wander, but why didn’t Zhao’er remind me? She seems to be avoiding me.”

“Let’s hurry back, young master!” Old Sun urged.

“But what about the Taoist on my back?” Zhou Qian asked, troubled.

“Just leave him somewhere,” Old Sun replied indifferently.

“That won’t do; one must finish what one starts!” Zhou Qian insisted.

“Then bring him to the manor—there’s no shortage of beds.”

No one noticed the Taoist’s lips curl subtly into a sly smile. “This child of the Golden Crow in the year of Bingchen has a kind heart. I was just wondering how to approach him, but he delivered himself right to me. What luck! I wonder how those two from Emei Sword Sect are faring. Looks like Qingcheng takes the lead this time!”