Chapter Fourteen: Brothers of the Immovable Peak

Chapter Fourteen: The Senior and Junior Brothers of the Immovable Peak

Fang Junmei turned his head and looked toward the door.

A man in his early thirties, dressed as a cultivator, was walking into the hall.

This man was remarkably handsome and elegant. He stood tall, dressed in a moon-white robe embroidered with drifting clouds and rivers, a white silk sash at his waist. His long, jet-black hair was tied back carelessly, most of it draped down his back, a few strands loose over his shoulders, lending him a touch of languid nonchalance amidst his scholarly grace.

His face was like polished jade, the contours gentle and soft. His eyes, reminiscent of clear springs, sparkled with a rippling smile. His nose was high and straight, a hint of blue-black beard at his chin, and at the corners of his mouth hovered a secretive, enigmatic smile—not aimed at Fang Junmei, but as if it was his habitual expression, full of a mature man’s charm.

Elegant, dignified, and self-assured.

His every movement was unhurried and composed, showing not the slightest concern for the elders in the hall.

The man in white also sized up Fang Junmei, and seemed pleased with what he saw, nodding to him in acknowledgment.

The elders present, upon seeing him, narrowed their eyes in surprise, their hearts skipping a beat. Only the Grandmaster of the Heavenly River remained as inscrutable as ever.

Damn! How could we have forgotten about that?

“Lanzhou greets the Grandmaster and all uncles and aunts,” the man in white said, bowing with neither humility nor arrogance as he stepped into the hall.

No one replied.

“If the elders have no further objections, then according to the agreement between you and our Immovable Peak, I’ll take him as my own,” the man in white said with a carefree smile.

“Lanzhou, your uncle’s disciples are all hopeless cases. Why not let me have this lad instead?” Daoist Tianfeng pleaded pitifully, his brows knotted, an odd sight for one usually so hot-tempered. Clearly, there was some agreement at play, and even he could only beg for a concession.

“No. I want him,” the man in white replied tersely.

“Ahem… Nephew Lanzhou…” The Grandmaster of the Heavenly River gave a dry cough, about to say more.

“Grandmaster, are you going back on your word?” The man in white’s expression suddenly turned icy, his voice tinged with indignation and dissatisfaction.

Those few words silenced the Grandmaster, leaving him unable to continue. The atmosphere in the hall instantly became tense and awkward. The elders, who moments ago had squabbled over Fang Junmei like children, now wore inscrutable expressions, their eyes full of calculation, like the craftiest of old foxes.

The Grandmaster’s face darkened as well. After a moment of complex contemplation, and a reluctant glance at Fang Junmei, he finally said in a detached tone, “Very well. In the end, it’s we who owe your master. From now on, Junmei will be a disciple of the Immovable Peak.”

“Thank you, Grandmaster,” the man in white replied expressionlessly, his gratitude barely discernible. If anything, he looked even gloomier than before, a stark contrast to the demeanor he’d shown upon entering.

“In that case, we will take our leave. Young brother, come with me,” he added, turning to Fang Junmei before striding out of the hall.

Fang Junmei was thoroughly confused, unable to make sense of the sudden shift in mood. He glanced at the Grandmaster, who gave a nod of assent, and only then did he follow.

Inside the hall, the elders exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of helplessness and complexity.

The Grandmaster’s gaze betrayed a faint pain—was Fang Junmei truly so exceptional?

Fang Junmei and the man in white walked one after the other along a stone path winding through the mountains. The silence between them grew thick and awkward.

This path led to a secluded part of the mountain. There were no guards in sight, nor any other disciples coming or going. The scenery became ever more serene, the clouds gathering, the wilderness tranquil and still.

After a long while, Fang Junmei finally broke the silence. “My name is Fang Junmei—”

“I am Fan Lanzhou. Once you’ve paid respects to our master, I’ll be your second senior brother,” the man in white cut him off abruptly, his voice swift and sharp—utterly at odds with his gentle appearance.

“Greetings, Brother Fan,” Fang Junmei said with a slight bow.

Fan Lanzhou nodded. “Do you know why I insisted you become my master’s disciple?”

Isn’t it because of my talent for the sword? Fang Junmei thought, but he was too embarrassed to say it aloud; it felt too self-aggrandizing. He said nothing.

Fan Lanzhou continued, as if speaking to himself, “Don’t think I chose you for the swordsmanship you displayed on Mount Luofu. I simply don’t want to let those old geezers have their way. Whatever they desire, I’ll make sure they don’t get it.”

A deep resentment lay beneath his words.

Fang Junmei felt a chill run down his spine—a foreboding sense that perhaps this man bore some grudge against the elders, or worse, that he was a madman hiding a twisted nature beneath his refined exterior.

Still, recalling what the Grandmaster had said earlier, Fang Junmei figured the old man was the more formidable one, and that all of this had long been foreseen.

“I just refuse to let them have their way!” Fan Lanzhou added stubbornly.

Fang Junmei noted how his footsteps suddenly quickened, an obvious sign of inner agitation. Indeed, Fan Lanzhou’s face had grown cold and grim.

“So, little brother, don’t expect any special treatment once you’re admitted. How far you go will depend on your own efforts,” Fan Lanzhou said.

Fang Junmei smiled and nodded. He was a man of dignity, not some green youth unaccustomed to hardship—he had never expected to be favored.

Though Fan Lanzhou never turned around, it was as if he could see Fang Junmei’s every movement. When Fang Junmei nodded, he nodded too, and his pace slowed once more.

The clouds ahead thickened, the outlines of distant peaks fading until it felt as if they were walking through a sea of mist.

“Stay close, and don’t lose your footing,” Fan Lanzhou warned softly.

Fang Junmei focused his gaze, peering through the clouds until he saw, several yards ahead, a rope-and-plank suspension bridge just wide enough for two to cross abreast, stretching deep into the mist. Its length was impossible to gauge.

A few steps later, they were atop the bridge.

The wind howled, the bridge swaying perilously high above the ground. Fang Junmei walked steadily, but even so, he could not stop the bridge’s trembling. For a faint-hearted mortal, the sight alone would have been enough to make them lose control.

Through the gaps in the mist, the earth below could be glimpsed, at least four or five hundred yards down. The bridge spanned two peaks, a marvel of engineering.

Far from being afraid, Fang Junmei’s eyes shone with excitement, his heart soaring. This was to be his new home—this was the world he had longed for.

The two not-yet-brothers crossed five or six bridges in succession, passing over as many peaks, before finally reaching their destination.

“This is our Immovable Peak,” Fan Lanzhou said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

Now that the mist had cleared, Fang Junmei could see the summit in detail. It was not especially high, nor was it particularly imposing, but it spread wide and solid, giving a sense of absolute stability, as if it could never be shaken or fall.

The peak was covered in tall trees and blooming flowers. At its center stood a grand hall and several side buildings, all surrounded by a long picket fence, their ancient simplicity harmonizing with the landscape. The buildings stood beneath the trees, scattered but well-ordered.

Looking down, Fang Junmei saw that the Immovable Peak stretched for dozens of miles, lush and green, with no sign of human habitation. Waterfalls cascaded down the cliffs, and birds and wild beasts could be faintly heard in the distance.

“This mountaintop is the heart of our Immovable Peak. Usually, only my master, third junior brother, and I are here. Our little junior sister has her own quarters halfway down the mountain, but you’ll meet her soon enough. Today, everyone is waiting for you at our master’s place.”

Fang Junmei nodded. “Why didn’t you mention the eldest senior brother?”

Fan Lanzhou fell silent.

After a moment, he turned abruptly and fixed Fang Junmei with a grave look. “He is the reason I wanted you to join Immovable Peak. And never mention him again.”

His expression was deadly serious.

Fang Junmei was taken aback—this Immovable Peak was becoming more and more mysterious.

At the gate of the fenced courtyard, Fan Lanzhou tapped several times before pushing the door open.

The two of them headed toward the highest side building. They were still a hundred yards away when two figures emerged from within—a man and a woman.

The man looked to be in his thirties, wearing a yellow long robe. He was tall, with rugged features, a stubbled face, a bulbous nose, and a green gourd hanging at his waist—clearly a lover of drink.

He chewed a wild grass stalk between his teeth, his manner bored and languid, but his large eyes watched Fang Junmei with great interest.

“So you’re the little junior brother? Not bad—your looks could almost rival old number two’s,” the man in yellow said with a raspy chuckle, stretching his arms behind his head in a posture of uninhibited ease.

The woman was a petite girl of fifteen or sixteen, dressed in a yellow, flower-embroidered blouse that hung to her knees, a green gauze shawl over her shoulders, yellow leather boots on her feet. She was fresh-faced and pretty, her bangs neatly combed, her crescent-moon eyes sparkling as she sized Fang Junmei up, a mischievous smile on her lips.

“Little junior brother, how old are you? Why do you look so mature? We should just call you ‘old junior brother’ from now on!” she teased, her clear, crisp voice full of playful mischief.

Caught off guard by these unceremonious greetings—so unlike the dignified immortals he had imagined—Fang Junmei could only smile awkwardly, unsure how to respond.

It was obvious these two were the third senior brother and little junior sister.

The girl skipped forward, dimples appearing as she grinned. “Little junior brother, I heard your talent for the sword is extraordinary, that you instantly saw through the flaws in the Flower Sword Technique. Why don’t I show you a set of moves, and you tell me how many flaws you can find?”

Clang!

Before she finished speaking, she had already drawn her sword, ready to begin.

“Don’t fool around. We have important matters to attend to first,” Fan Lanzhou said sternly.

The girl lost her enthusiasm at once, glared at Fan Lanzhou, and reluctantly put her sword away with a pout.

The three of them were each a little odd in their own way, and Fang Junmei’s curiosity only grew—what kind of person was the master he was about to meet, and what was the truth behind the eldest senior brother who must never be mentioned?