Chapter Five: A White Horse Descends the Mountain Amidst Fine Rain

Chapter Five: White Horse Descends the Mountain in a Fine Rain

Within the great hall, a hush settled.

“Second Senior Brother, what brings you here to see me?” After a moment, a gentle voice broke the silence. Shu Chuchu deftly shifted the conversation.

Fang Junmei, recalling his purpose, straightened and spoke with renewed spirit, “Junior Sister, I intend to leave Sword North Mountain City and journey across the land, never to return. If you wish to depart as well, come with me. Once we leave the mountain, you may go wherever your heart desires, and I will ensure your safety along the way.”

In the city atop the mountain, Shu Chuchu was the only one Fang Junmei had any lingering attachment to. Though their meetings had been few and their bond as siblings in name not particularly deep, before the Sword-bearing Elder died, he had entrusted Fang Junmei with her care.

“You’re leaving, Senior Brother?” Shu Chuchu was stunned.

Fang Junmei nodded, concealing his true intentions and refraining from inviting her outright. His goal was too vague, too uncertain—if he succeeded, all would be well, but if he failed, he would not drag Shu Chuchu’s youthful years into ruin.

She considered for a moment. “When do you plan to leave?”

“As soon as possible,” Fang Junmei replied. “If you agree, I’ll take you away today.”

“Why such haste? Master has only just passed,” Shu Chuchu remarked in surprise.

Fang Junmei’s eyes narrowed slightly, his expression solemn. “Since my return, I’ve observed the disciples here. The elders remain, and the younger generation has been thoroughly trained by our eldest brother. Now, Sword North Mountain City is stronger in both masters and elite fighters than ever before. Even I couldn’t withstand so many foes. If there is to be a departure, now is the time.”

He paused, then continued, “The threats of the Palace of Relentless Sorrow, Rainfall Tower, and the Righteous Alliance are soon to arrive. Eldest Brother must reserve his strength for them; he cannot afford internal conflict that would weaken us. If we leave now, he may try to stop us, but he won’t dare unleash slaughter.”

His words were steady, his grasp of the situation thorough. Shu Chuchu nodded again and again as she listened.

“Junior Sister, will you come with me?” Fang Junmei asked once more.

Shu Chuchu fell silent, pondering deeply. After a long while, she spoke, “I must remain.”

Fang Junmei was taken aback. “With Master gone, is there still something or someone in the city you cannot leave?”

“Though Master is gone, there are many innocent townsfolk here. If we both leave, who knows where Eldest Brother will lead this city? I wish to stay by his side. I am but one small voice, but when he crosses a line, I will try to reason with him,” Shu Chuchu replied.

Fang Junmei was shaken, realizing for the first time that he had underestimated his gentle junior sister.

He thought for a moment, then said, “Junior Sister, someone like Eldest Brother won’t listen to anyone’s counsel.”

Shu Chuchu shook her head, her gaze resolute. “Master always said that among the three of us, Eldest Brother resembles him most. If Master could do it, so can Eldest Brother. He’s only blinded by power for now.”

Fang Junmei could find no words.

He knew all too well the life of the Sword-bearing Elder; Leng Qianqiu now was almost a mirror of the Elder in his younger years. To deny Leng Qianqiu was to deny the Elder himself.

“Second Brother, you must have your own plans. Then go and see them through. In Master’s lifetime, he often said, ‘If life does not go as one wishes, what point is there in living a hundred years in vain?’”

With warmth and strength in her eyes, Shu Chuchu gazed at Fang Junmei. “Go, wherever your heart desires!”

Fang Junmei’s eyes narrowed once more.

…

After bidding farewell to Shu Chuchu and paying his respects at the Sword-bearing Elder’s grave, Fang Junmei returned to his quarters.

Packing was brief—just a few changes of clothes and some silver. The three most important items—the Lovesick Sword, the Three-Breath Divine Stone, and a piece of green jade—remained ever by his side.

With his preparations complete, Fang Junmei strode into the rain toward the stables. He chose the sturdiest horse and made his way down the mountain.

Yet as he led his horse away, the stable boy immediately reported it up the mountain. Every path, every exit, was under Leng Qianqiu’s control; naturally, so were Fang Junmei’s actions.

It wasn’t long before Leng Qianqiu gave chase.

…

On the rain-soaked mountain road, Fang Junmei led his horse downward, step by step.

High above, Leng Qianqiu watched him with eagle-sharp eyes, a group of elite city fighters with strung bows at his back.

“Where are you going, Junior Brother?” Leng Qianqiu called out coldly. His tall, imposing figure exuded the presence of a tyrant lord; his icy gaze bore into Fang Junmei’s back.

“Down the mountain,” Fang Junmei replied without turning, a radiant smile on his face. His perfect white teeth flashed, his voice bright and vigorous, full of irrepressible energy, as if utterly indifferent to the deadly intent behind him.

Once he set foot on the path down the mountain, his heart felt unburdened and clear.

“And what do you intend to do?” Leng Qianqiu pressed. As lord of Sword North Mountain City, his greatest concerns, aside from the underworld and the authorities of Panguo, centered on this rarely-seen junior brother. He was well aware of every tale of Fang Junmei’s chivalry and righteousness outside, and he knew that his unconventional brother could one day become a formidable threat.

“I am going—” Fang Junmei still did not turn. His face grew serious, his eyes steely with resolve. After a brief pause, he continued, “I am going to fulfill Master’s dream, to chase after time, to pursue the fleeting years—because that too shall become my life’s dream.”

Leng Qianqiu was startled; this answer, so ethereal and grand, was more than he expected.

“I am now lord of the city. Without my order, you may not leave,” Leng Qianqiu soon declared, his tone cold. Having only just seized power, he would tolerate nothing and no one beyond his control.

Fang Junmei only smiled, saying nothing, and continued walking forward.

Tap, tap—

Fang Junmei drew farther and farther away. In another twenty paces or so, he would round a bend and vanish from sight.

“Lord?” One of the archers, a tall, gaunt, and icy man, spoke softly. His arrow was nocked, his bow drawn, awaiting only a word.

Leng Qianqiu’s gaze upon Fang Junmei’s retreating figure was complicated, but that complexity soon congealed into coldness. He slowly raised his right hand, then brought it down sharply.

Twang! Twang!

The sound of bows being loosed rang out without pause. At least forty or fifty sharp arrows shot forth, whistling toward the back of Fang Junmei’s head and torso, so swift not even the rain touched them.

Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!

In a flash, sparks flew everywhere!

Just as the arrows were unleashed, Fang Junmei spun around with a sudden movement. The Lovesick Sword flashed from its sheath, and with a casual flick of his wrist, he conjured a dozen blossoms of sword energy. Each blossom, precise to the extreme, met each arrow, deflecting them all—none so much as grazed him.

This uncanny, almost prescient skill filled every onlooker with dread.

“Senior Brother, even if you cannot lead Sword North Mountain City onto the right path as Master wished, at least treat the people and our junior sister kindly. Otherwise, when I return, I will destroy you—and this place—with my own hands!”

At last, Fang Junmei fully turned, facing Leng Qianqiu with utmost gravity. His tightly pressed lips betrayed a resolve that brooked no argument.

With those words, he turned again, leading his horse down the mountain, his figure soon vanishing behind the great stone at the bend.

Leng Qianqiu stood motionless, stunned, his mind replaying that single sword stroke. It reminded him of a certain legend about the Sword-bearing Elder.

…

In the fine rain, a white horse descended the mountain.

Fang Junmei spurred his steed and plunged headlong into the boundless wind and rain.

That day, Fang Junmei left the mountain, and in doing so, stepped into a world of his own, beginning a legend that would echo through the ages.