Chapter Thirty-One: Fang Junmei’s Trial of the Heart

Chapter Thirty-One: Fang Junmei’s Trial of the Heart

Three years slipped by in the blink of an eye.

Fang Junmei’s cultivation had risen from the fifth to the seventh tier of Qi Induction. In less than five years since entering the sect, such remarkable progress spoke volumes of his extraordinary spiritual roots and innate talent.

Yet, when word spread, it did not stir much commotion.

The reason was simple: before Fang Junmei, both Long Jinyi and Gu Xijin had achieved as much, and even faster. Perhaps their aptitude was not necessarily superior, but they had each received focused cultivation resources from their respective masters.

Fang Junmei, by contrast, had been snatched into the Immovable Peak by Fan Lanzhou, who paid him little heed thereafter, leaving him to fend for himself and earn his cultivation supplies. The five hundred medium-grade spirit stones he had once received were, of course, spent to the last coin.

…

After leaving, Fang found Song Shedde already waiting outside. Sensing Fang's advancement, Song's gaze wavered in surprise.

“How is this boy progressing so quickly?” he wondered. Song knew well Fang’s circumstances and suspected that Fan Lanzhou and the others provided no aid in the way of spirit stones—otherwise, why would Fang Junmei take on assignments like an outer disciple?

After a brief exchange, the two wasted no time and set out at once.

Along the way, Fang Junmei sought instruction from Song Shedde, who proved more a true senior brother than Fan Lanzhou and the like. Perhaps it was the nature of these latter trials, but Song was markedly more cautious now, avoiding places where disciples gathered, steering clear of trouble.

Soon, they arrived again at Medicine King Peak and entered the great hall.

Once the door shut, only Fang Junmei and Chunyu Qian remained.

Chunyu Qian showed no surprise at Fang’s progress, but drew out a jade bottle, caressing it as if it were precious before speaking: “This time, the pill is called Dream’s Entrance.”

A spark of light flashed in Fang Junmei’s eyes.

“Once you take it, you’ll find yourself in a world crafted of dreams, overflowing with desire. But unlike last time, you won’t feel pain—rather, you’ll lose yourself in its temptations, unable to escape.”

Chunyu Qian fixed Fang Junmei with a piercing gaze. “If you can awaken from these desires within three days, you pass. If not, you fail.”

Fang Junmei nodded slightly.

“Let me add,” Chunyu Qian said offhandedly, “Gu Xijin woke in less than twenty-six hours.”

Fang Junmei laughed. “Master Uncle, no need to prod me further, lest you crush me beneath your expectations.”

At this, Chunyu Qian broke into a rare, kindly laugh. “I like your temperament, boy—far more pleasing than that feigned paragon Gu Xijin. Work hard. I never shortchange those who aid me.”

Truly, master and apprentice were cut from the same cloth; Chunyu Qian’s words echoed Song Shedde’s own.

Uncorking the bottle, Chunyu Qian tipped out a single white pill and flicked it to Fang Junmei. Only after Fang had swallowed it did Chunyu Qian close his eyes and settle into meditation.

Fang Junmei, too, closed his eyes. A bizarre sensation welled up inside him.

…

A handsome youth, having parted from his master, wandered the mortal world.

Awaiting him was a life resplendent with color—and with it, countless temptations.

Power, status, fame, wealth, women.

One after another, these lures beset him.

Young Fang Junmei felt both desire and conflict. In that illusory realm, he seemed to have returned to ten years past, knowing nothing of what lay ahead, reliving his life anew—though now every temptation was magnified beyond measure.

But Fang Junmei always managed to break free, thanks to his master, the Old Swordsman, who had taken him wandering the world as a teen, teaching him the ways of the heart and the snares of desire.

He journeyed on.

Eventually, he reached the northern steppes of the Pan Kingdom, where he met a girl named Adele.

In time, though, Fang Junmei left her and returned to Pan Kingdom, wandering once more. After more than two years, he settled in a water town called Ten Thousand Boat Wharf for half a year.

A trial of love, buried deep in Fang Junmei’s heart, was to play out again—but with a course unlike that of true history.

…

That day, the sun shone bright.

Fang Junmei napped beneath blossoming peach trees, whiling away a lonely afternoon—the most carefree chapter of his life.

Someone pushed open the courtyard gate and stepped in.

Since his rise to fame, challengers had come in growing numbers—mostly peers—and no matter where he went, they seemed able to find him.

This time, his visitor was a dashing young man, dressed in white, travel-stained, with a hero’s scarf tied neatly about his head—a man clearly well-bred.

Fang Junmei cracked open his eyes, finding the youth oddly familiar, though he could not immediately place him.

The newcomer, seeing Fang Junmei sprawled drunkenly beneath the flowers, eyes still hazy with sleep, smiled meaningfully. “Brother Fang, you truly are a character.”

Fang Junmei, his pleasant dream disturbed, felt a trace of annoyance. He grabbed the sword at his side and said coolly, “Draw your weapon.”

The youth seemed unprepared for Fang’s directness and paused, then broke into a bright smile. “You misunderstand, Brother Fang. I merely wish for you to appraise my blade.”

He drew a long blade from his back, unwinding layers of coarse cloth with careful hands.

Fang Junmei was taken aback at first, but soon his gaze grew intent.

The blade was over five feet long, forged of finest steel, with a narrow, thin body and an unusually long hilt—hallmarks of a steppe blacksmith.

It was a cavalry saber, made for battle on the open grasslands.

“You’re from the steppes?” Fang Junmei asked, a complicated look in his eyes.

“From the Longyin-Golok Steppe, the Iron Rider Clan,” replied the youth, his gaze sharp and voice clear as a bell.

At these words, Fang Junmei’s heart surged with emotion.

“Fang Junmei, do you remember telling a girl you would die for her on the Longyin-Golok Steppe?”

The young man’s tone turned stern, his face twisting with a strange, mournful fury.

Of course Fang Junmei remembered—his first searing love had blossomed on the Longyin-Golok.

Three years before, not yet accomplished in martial arts, Fang Junmei had been pursued and forced to flee to the northern steppe. There, the chieftain of a small tribe had saved him from the brink of death. In gratitude, Fang Junmei had helped defend them against powerful enemies.

At that time, the Longyin-Golok was in chaos—war raged, and countless small tribes vanished with each sunrise.

Yet, with Fang Junmei’s aid, that small tribe rose swiftly, growing stronger day by day. And it was there that Fang Junmei encountered the first great love of his life.