Chapter Twenty-Five: Wind-Scattered Plum and Ji Nu Jiao

Chapter Twenty-Five: Wind-Cutting Plum and Ji Nu Jiao

“If you make it through today, I’ll give you some healing elixirs I’ve refined myself. I guarantee they’re better than anything you’ll find on Duty Peak’s shelves,” Song Shede said generously as they rode the clouds.

Fang Junmei thanked him politely, then, recalling Song’s earlier words, asked about marriage customs in the cultivation world.

“We human cultivators—unless restricted by strict sect rules—are not forbidden to marry. Forming Daoist partnerships is still a major way for factions to consolidate power,” Song explained. “Many think that after embarking on the path of cultivation, a being’s desires gradually fade, leaving us emotionless and indifferent. But I, Song Shede, believe the opposite. Our desires don’t diminish; they only grow. Because we’ve tasted the sweetness of power, we want more of it.”

When he spoke in earnest, Song’s words carried a certain profound, captivating weight.

Fang Junmei, surprised by this perspective, looked at him and said, “I’d like to hear more.”

Song continued, “As mortals, we crave wealth and status. Once on the cultivation path, we crave resources for cultivation.

“As mortals, we hunger for worldly power. As cultivators, we seek status within the sect and aspire to the pinnacle.

“As mortals, we desire beauty and romance; as cultivators, we covet the most exquisite and graceful female practitioners.

“As mortals, we reap the harvests of the earth. As cultivators, we crave the heavens themselves! We wish to surpass the bonds and control of fate. So, tell me, Brother Fang—haven’t our desires only become greater?”

With these words, Song Shede suddenly turned his gaze on Fang Junmei, his eyes blazing with a fierce fire of greed.

Fang Junmei’s heart quivered; he was deeply shaken. For a moment, he didn’t know how to answer. There was some truth in Song’s words, but was it really so?

Song, seeing he’d lost control of his emotions, quickly reined himself in and laughed, returning to his usual demeanor.

“Brother, your insight impresses me,” Fang Junmei said, bowing slightly. Then he asked, “But why did you specify ‘human cultivators’ just now?”

“You’re quick,” Song complimented. “In this world, it’s not only us humans who absorb spiritual energy. There are also demon beasts, and even other strange races. For demon beasts especially, continuing the bloodline is critical for survival. Among them, forming Daoist bonds is entirely normal.”

Fang Junmei nodded again.

“You’ve just entered the sect, and surely haven’t yet passed the trial of the heart. You must be restless—I understand!” Song leered at him, assuming he had some secret longing. “There’s no shortage of beautiful women in Peach Blossom Spring. Once you’re through this ordeal, I can introduce you to a few of them.”

“…That won’t be necessary,” Fang Junmei said with a smile and a shake of the head.

“Oh, but it is!” Song, now in chatterbox mode, stroked his beard and rambled on, “If we’re talking about the most talented and beautiful female cultivators of our generation in Peach Blossom Spring, none surpass Wind-Cutting Plum, the favored disciple of Mistress Piaoxue of Rainbow Cloud Peak. But she’s an ice beauty, and her cultivation far outstrips yours…”

He looked Fang Junmei up and down, then shook his head. “Brother, to win her over would be harder than reaching the heavens!”

His tone brimmed with wistful regret.

Fang Junmei, having had enough, was about to change the subject when suddenly the shrill cry of a sword pierced the air. A chilling, razor-sharp cold surged toward them.

He felt it, as did Song Shede. The older man’s eyes flashed with light as he turned sharply. In the distance, several hundred yards away, a woman in white stood on a cloud, her gaze cold as she stared murderously at them.

She was tall and graceful, dressed in a snow-white gown embroidered with delicate plum blossoms. Her beauty was ethereal, her skin so pale and flawless it seemed translucent, as if sculpted from jade and ice—a beauty not of this world.

Her face was long and oval, her nose elegant, lips tinted with the faintest color, giving her an air of pure refinement. Her long, cloud-like hair cascaded over her shoulders, swaying gently.

But the look in her beautiful eyes was sharp as blades, as if she could pierce through both Song Shede and Fang Junmei.

Her hands moved in subtle incantation, and a long, icy white sword shot through the air, trailing a mist of frost.

“Wind-Cutting Plum!” Song Shede shouted as he recognized her, his eyes wide. He poured all his power into his cloud-riding technique, fleeing forward with Fang Junmei in tow.

He didn’t realize that Fang Junmei was already shivering violently, his body encased in rapidly forming frost, wearing a look of deep frustration.

What did I do to deserve this?

The flying sword pursued them, its blade flashing like lightning.

Behind the sword was Wind-Cutting Plum herself, cold as ice, her white skirt billowing as she soared through the sky like an immortal descending to the mortal world.

But Song Shede and Fang Junmei were in no mood to appreciate her beauty.

Wind-Cutting Plum was immensely powerful. The sword she wielded—Azure Frost—was a top-grade magical treasure, once owned by Mistress Piaoxue herself, now entrusted to her most cherished disciple.

Even the casual power released by this sword was beyond Fang Junmei’s ability to withstand. In no time, he was shivering uncontrollably, his hair and brows heavy with frost, able only to muster a pitiful trickle of spiritual energy to defend himself.

“Sister, have mercy! I was only speaking in jest!” Song Shede, usually so glib, now cursed his own tongue, pushing his cloud-riding technique to the limit in flight. But there was no escape; the pursuer drew ever closer.

Ten yards!

Five yards!

Sensing Azure Frost’s approach, Song Shede gritted his teeth and drew a jade-green disc from his waist, sending it spinning behind them.

The disc whirled and expanded, forming a shield.

Bang!

A deafening crash followed as Azure Frost struck the disc, unleashing a mighty shockwave that blasted Song Shede and Fang Junmei from their cloud, sending them hurtling toward the earth below.

The jade disc, of lesser quality than Azure Frost, was knocked flying.

Boom, boom, boom—

After crashing through branches and foliage, they finally hit the ground, the thick leaves cushioning their fall. Otherwise, they would surely have landed bruised and broken.

“Spare me, Senior Sister!” Song Shede pleaded in a tearful voice.

“Song Shede, if you dare gossip again, I’ll see you buried!” Wind-Cutting Plum hovered overhead, recalling Azure Frost to her side, and gave a cold huff.

“I won’t dare again!” Song Shede cried.

Wind-Cutting Plum glided away.

“Damn it, how could she overhear at just that moment?” Song Shede muttered under his breath, heaving a long sigh as he summoned his jade disc, then went to find Fang Junmei in another direction.

Fang Junmei, meanwhile, was still aching all over from the fall, breathing in pain, frost still clinging to his clothes.

“Brother Fang, what did I say? That woman is formidable—she’s not one you can win over,” Song Shede couldn’t help but quip as he arrived.

Fang Junmei rolled his eyes. As if I ever wanted to win her over!

Song, who had been on the verge of tears, now burst out laughing at Fang Junmei’s expression, produced a few pills, and pressed them into his hand.

The moment Fang swallowed the pills, most of his pain faded. He slowly stood, his clothes torn, face streaked with blood, hair disheveled—a sorry sight indeed.

Song Shede studied his appearance, then, growing serious, said, “Brother Fang, do me a favor. When we see my master, if he asks why you’re in this state, just say you fell off the cloud. Don’t mention what happened just now. Offending Wind-Cutting Plum is a small matter, but if you delay my master’s elixir trial, he’ll skin me alive.”

Fang Junmei nodded helplessly.

They set out again.

Song Shede soon returned to his talkative ways, boasting of his rich experience.

“That last one, cold as ice, always ready to draw her sword, not a trace of womanly charm. But the one I’ll introduce you to next—she’s a true enchantress,” he said, swallowing with a lecherous gleam in his eye.

“Brother, to tell you the truth, I’ve long since passed the trial of the heart. Matters of men and women don’t interest me. Let’s talk about something else in the cultivation world,” Fang Junmei said, his fine brows drooping.

Song Shede gave him a look usually reserved for greenhorns. “That’s only because you haven’t met a real woman yet.”

His voice rang with conviction.

Fang Junmei’s face darkened further.

“Now, the one I’m about to describe is the very essence of femininity. That graceful, voluptuous figure, that soft, meltingly sweet voice, those sparkling peach blossom eyes—she’ll steal your soul and claim your life! Countless disciples in Peach Blossom Spring dream of tasting her lips,” Song Shede declared, once again swallowing in a lecherous manner.

Fang Junmei could only smile and shake his head. “She hardly sounds respectable.”

“Wrong!” Song Shede glared at him, voice righteous. “She may be uninhibited and delight in teasing men, but she’s as pure as jade—never once rumored to have been with any disciple.”

Fang Junmei nodded in understanding.

Song Shede shot him a sly glance. “Her name is Ji Nu Jiao, chief disciple of Mistress Luo of Embroidered Smoke Peak. But, Brother Fang, a man as oblivious to women as you are would never catch her eye.”

Fang Junmei nodded indifferently.

“Dear Shede, are you talking about me? So I’m really that irresistible?” A voice, soft and teasing as honey, suddenly rang out, every syllable laced with seduction, utterly lacking in any chill—on the contrary, it was playful.

Song Shede and Fang Junmei both felt their hearts quiver at the sound.

The next instant, both realized disaster had struck again.

Could their luck really be this bad—caught in the act twice in one day?

Fang Junmei, once upright and proper, was fast becoming a comic figure under Song Shede’s influence.