Chapter 61 — Old Acquaintances

Light filtered down through the forest, spilling through the dense, luxuriant branches and leaves onto the two figures of master and disciple, Tian Buhui and Zhang Qingyue. Zhang Qingyue stood before Tian Buhui, overcome with shame, and only after a long while managed to call out in a low voice: "Master..."

Tian Buhui looked at him. On the young disciple's originally pale face there was now, unexpectedly, a touch of color. He gave a cold snort and turned away.

Zhang Qingyue stood at a loss, not knowing what to say. Yet the secret buried deep in his heart had suddenly been seen through by the one he had always revered most, and that sense of panic had still not faded even now.

Tian Buhui stood there with his hands clasped behind his back, saying nothing for a long while. Zhang Qingyue stood behind him with his head lowered, not daring even to breathe.

After quite some time, Tian Buhui said slowly: "So, then—the one who secretly passed the Taiji Xuanqing Daoist method to you that day was also Ling'er?"

Zhang Qingyue's heart lurched again, but where Tian Lingsu was concerned, his mind cleared at once. He said urgently: "Master, that has nothing to do with our senior sister. It was me—I begged her to teach me..."

Tian Buhui turned around and fixed Zhang Qingyue with a stare. Zhang Qingyue's voice immediately dwindled, knowing that no matter what he said, he probably could not hide the truth from this master of his.

In the woods, between master and disciple, a silence fell.

Zhang Qingyue lowered his head, his thoughts in a tangle. Just then, he heard Tian Buhui's voice: "Old Seven."

Zhang Qingyue's heart skipped. He raised his head and answered: "Master."

Tian Buhui looked at him and said: "It has been nearly five years since you entered my tutelage, has it not?"

Zhang Qingyue said in a low voice: "Yes."

Tian Buhui said mildly: "When I first took you in, I did not in truth think much of your aptitude. That you could achieve what you have today is truly far beyond what I expected."

Zhang Qingyue's body stirred, yet deep in his heart, for some reason, there was a faint, hidden joy.

Tian Buhui continued: "As for your secret love for Ling'er..."

Zhang Qingyue's heart clenched, and he said: "Master, it is all my fault. I should not have..."

But Tian Buhui glared at him and said: "Did I say you were wrong?"

Zhang Qingyue's mouth fell open. This time he truly was frightened by Tian Buhui.

Tian Buhui gave a cold snort and said: "You are a young man in the prime of youth, not one of those monks of the Fanyin Temple. And you grew up alongside Ling'er since childhood—that you should come to care for her somewhat, what is so strange about that? Do you think your master has lived all these years for nothing? That I could not even figure out a thing as simple as this?"

Zhang Qingyue lowered his head, and suddenly his eyes grew hot. All the warm words in this world, added together, could not, in his heart, compare to these few cold, blunt sentences from Tian Buhui.

Only Tian Buhui paused, then added: "But things are different now. I can see it too—Ling'er is, I fear, truly fond of that Qi Hao. As for you? I am afraid she only looks on you as a younger brother. Do you understand?"

Zhang Qingyue nodded, but his gaze remained fixed on the ground at his feet. He said in a low voice: "Yes, Master."

Tian Buhui said slowly: "In the past I opposed Ling'er's dealings with Qi Hao, not because of Qi Hao himself, but because..." Here he suddenly stopped, his brows drawing together, and he changed the subject: "To speak plainly, although your progress in the Daoist arts has been faster than I expected, compared with Qi Hao, you are still far behind."

Tian Buhui looked deeply at Zhang Qingyue and said slowly: "Do you understand what I mean?"

Zhang Qingyue bit his lip hard, and only after a long while said: "Yes, I understand, Master."

Tian Buhui nodded, let out a long breath, walked over, and patted him on the shoulder, saying: "What is past is past. Let it be."

Zhang Qingyue felt his master's broad, warm hand pat his shoulder, and his heart grew hot. He nodded firmly.

Tian Buhui looked at him a while, then said: "Then let us go back."

With that, he walked back the way they had come.

Zhang Qingyue raised his head, drew a deep breath toward the sky above, and loosened the hands he had kept clenched all this time.

Only, that faint trace of bewilderment, vague and elusive, still clung to his heart.

He gave a bitter smile, pulled himself together, and followed.

By the time the two of them walked back to the row of mountain caves halfway up the slope, the various factions were already stirring, most of their people having risen. Tian Lingsu and the others were standing right at the cave entrance, anxious looks on their faces, gazing all around—clearly very worried.

Zhang Qingyue saw them from afar, and a pain stabbed at his heart. He lowered his head.

As soon as Tian Lingsu saw Tian Buhui and Zhang Qingyue return, she ran over. Without a word, she first looked Zhang Qingyue up and down, and only after confirming that he had not been "mistreated" by Tian Buhui did she say softly: "Xiaofan, so early in the morning—where did you and my father go?"

Zhang Qingyue saw her face full of concern, her bright eyes fixed only on him, and again an inexplicable pain stabbed at his heart. But he forced a smile onto his face and said: "It is nothing. Master took me out for a walk and gave me a few words of instruction. He has forgiven me now."

Tian Buhui, walking ahead, seemed to hear his young disciple's words. He gave a cold snort, his expression unreadable, and walked slowly back. Seeing his wife Su Wan standing at the cave entrance, watching him with a gentle smile, his face stiffened for a moment. He shot her a glare, said nothing, and went inside.

And so this small storm, too, was considered over and done with.

In the days that followed, Zhang Qingyue spent day and night with his senior brothers, from whom he had been parted so long. He had grown up from childhood under the watchful eyes of these senior brothers, and now that he had returned, it was all great warmth and familiarity. Song Dayi, being broad-minded, had not taken Zhang Qingyue's rudeness that day to heart; and Su Wan had, in private, hinted a few things to him, so that he understood the situation well enough. Instead, he doted on this youngest junior brother all the more.

The orthodox cultivators who had come to Liubo Mountain this time were, naturally, led by the three great sects—the Canglan Sect, the Fanyin Temple, and the Fenxia Valley—but there were also quite a few smaller orthodox sects.

Many of them Zhang Qingyue had never even heard of; no doubt they had all come for the sake of orthodox justice, to stand implacably opposed to the remnants of the demonic cult.

As for the three great sects, this time, apart from the Canglan Sect's Daoist Cangyan and Tian Buhui, the other two sects had sent no one of the elder generation. Thus, imperceptibly, the Canglan Sect came to lead in all matters.

Three days passed in this manner, and on Liubo Mountain Zhang Qingyue unexpectedly came upon several acquaintances one after another.

Among them were Li Xun and Yan Fei of the Fenxia Valley, who arrived at Liubo Mountain the next day; a little later, among the monks of the Fanyin Temple, he saw Shitou, and beside Shitou a thin, withered old man.

Zhang Qingyue went up rather happily to greet them. When Shitou saw it was him, he too grew greatly excited. After a few words, he wanted to introduce his master, the "Venerable Great Strength," and turning to the old man who was speaking with Facheng, he said: "Master, this is the Brother Zhang of the Canglan Sect I told you about."