Nine Shao Pure Tone

The flute's notes rang clear and bright, winding leisurely through rises and falls, their high tones crisp as a reed flute and their low tones deep and resonant as a bell.

As they reached Jiang Yang's ears, they carried traces of longing. Even from so far away, he seemed able to hear the feelings they sought to convey.

An inexplicable mood stirred in Jiang Yang as he stepped into the woods. Listening to the increasingly distinct flute music, he saw a graceful figure emerge upon the lake of his heart.

It must be her. She always wears a jade flute at her waist...

Though he had yet to see anyone, Jiang Yang somehow felt certain that the musician was Shang Qingzheng.

Half curious, half searching, Jiang Yang quickened his steps toward the bamboo seedlings he tended.

The closer he drew, the nearer the sound became. Just as he had thought, it came from the place where the two of them often chatted.

From afar, Jiang Yang saw a figure seated with her back to him, dressed in luminous white. Her waist was slender, her hips rounded, her long hair falling over her shoulders, and the folds of her skirt cascading around her. Like snow upon a heavenly mountain, she was pure, piercingly cold, and impossible to overlook.

He approached quietly. The crisp crunch of leaves beneath his feet made Civet Sixteen turn its little head on the stone table. Seeing Jiang Yang, it relaxed, opened its mouth in a yawn, and curled back up.

Perhaps because the music was subdued, Little Sixteen was less lively than usual. All four paws were tucked beneath its body, completely hidden, as it quietly kept Shang Qingzheng company, looking like a long, caterpillar-shaped cat.

Shang Qingzheng seemed lost in wistful feelings and had not noticed Jiang Yang's arrival. Her eyes remained closed, her thin, pink-tinged red lips poised at the flute as she played with all her heart.

Unwilling to interrupt her, Jiang Yang leaned against a large rock nearby and quietly savored the music.

Gradually, Jiang Yang sank into it, and his thoughts suddenly flew back to his previous life.

His hometown, his parents, friends and relatives, all those wonderful things, school, teachers, classmates, laughter... exams... homework...

"Hm?"

Jiang Yang abruptly shuddered and came to his senses. His mind gradually settled, though a faint melancholy lingered, as if he had lost something.

He had actually recalled his previous life, a rare occurrence that had never happened since he entered Qi Refining and developed spirit sense.

Had the final scene not returned to the evening before his transmigration, when Jiang Yang looked down and saw his unfinished homework, he would not have snapped awake so quickly.

Once he recovered, Jiang Yang looked at Shang Qingzheng with changed eyes.

There seemed to be a divine intent within the flute music. Although it contained no magical power, it could strangely stir a person's emotions. Her skill was truly wondrous.

After a long while, Shang Qingzheng relaxed her hands and lowered the long flute. The jade flute circled once in midair before settling at her waist on its own.

The playing stopped, but its lingering notes still curled around the rafters without fading. Shang Qingzheng rested her cheek on a sleeved hand and gazed blankly into the distance.

After a sigh, she suddenly parted her lips and sang:

"Snow-white Heqiu, wrapped in robes of white. How could I not long for you? Too distant to reach.

The Jin River lies to the left, the Qu River to the right. A daughter journeys forth, far from her honored parents.”

Her voice drifted delicately, each word crisp and lovely as pearls falling upon a jade platter. The melody carried an ancient vastness, its tones echoing old songs and tugging at the heartstrings.

“The Qu River lies to the right, the Jin River to the left, a lovely smile gleaming...”

Only then did Shang Qingzheng turn and discover Jiang Yang nearby. She stopped singing and said with a hint of shyness:

"You're here."

The girl had red lips, white teeth, a lovely brow, and graceful eyebrows. Her face flushed, and her voice dwindled to a mosquito's murmur, utterly unlike the poised figure who had sung so freely a moment earlier.

Jiang Yang nodded and said softly:

"Yes. Why did you come so early today?"

Though Shang Qingzheng did not arrive at a fixed time, she usually came only after Jiang Yang had consumed the morning dew and finished his exercises.

Shang Qingzheng hooked a strand of hair away from her cheek and said:

"I felt bored this morning and couldn't settle down to cultivate, so I thought I'd come out to clear my head."

Then she looked at Jiang Yang and asked haltingly:

"Just now... did you hear all of that?"

At her question, admiration spread across Jiang Yang's face, and he clapped his hands in praise:

"Of course. The flute music was flowing and clear, and your voice was crisp and lovely. Beautiful, truly beautiful! I knew the jade flute you wore at your waist every day couldn't just be an ornament."

Shang Qingzheng pressed her lips together at his praise, but still lifted her head proudly and accepted it without reservation.

The corners of her mouth curved upward, though she remained modest in her words:

"Not at all. I don't play often, so I'm a little rusty. I've only made a fool of myself before you."

Jiang Yang had no noteworthy artistic talents himself, so how could he look down on hers? He smiled and said:

"Good is good. Though I can't distinguish the five notes and know nothing of musical theory, I can still tell good from bad. This melody has an ancient charm. Did you compose it yourself?"

Hearing this, Shang Qingzheng quickly shook her head and explained with a soft laugh:

"How could I have that ability? It's an old song, one widely sung in my homeland, the Heqiu Snowfield. It expresses longing for home and family, and the hope of returning."

"Oh..."

Jiang Yang nodded. This stirred more associations in his mind, so he asked:

"When I first heard the flute just now, it moved my heart. I couldn't help recalling the past, and it left me melancholy. Was that the flute's doing?"

"Ah..."

Shang Qingzheng gave a soft exclamation and lowered her head, avoiding Jiang Yang's gaze. Only afterward did she say:

"Um, this is called the [Pure Tone Nine Shao Flute]. My mother left it to me."

At this, she sighed and stroked the jade flute with her slender hand, saying apologetically:

"I'm sorry. This jade flute is precious—it's a Spirit Artifact. As they say, the player may have no intention, yet the listener finds meaning. The flute contains a wondrous power that imprints one heart upon another.

That's why I normally leave its power entirely untouched and simply play it like an ordinary flute, lest the sound reach someone else and stir the emotions of those nearby. It was my fault today. I let my attention slip and couldn't gather my thoughts back in."

After hearing this, Jiang Yang nodded in understanding. No wonder he had recalled his previous life against his will just now. The melody really had influenced him.

Simply put, she had missed home and played a homesick tune, which had indirectly affected Jiang Yang's thoughts.

This was the first time he had heard Shang Qingzheng mention her family or parents, so he comforted her:

"It's fine. Everyone feels homesick. What is there to apologize for?

Besides, you're already in late Qi Refining. Once you advance to Foundation Establishment, you'll be able to soar through the Azure Firmament. Then, vast as the world is, you can go wherever you please. A trip home will be nothing."

As for the Spirit Artifact, Jiang Yang paid it no mind at all. He had barely seen a few Mystic Artifacts, so how could he imagine the wonders of a Spirit Artifact?

Hearing this, Shang Qingzheng forced a smile and nodded as she said:

"That's where you're wrong. My homeland lies far north of Tai Rong, with the Jin River to the east and New Canal to the west. It's well beyond the borders of the Zheng Kingdom.

It's farther than you could possibly imagine. Even for a cultivator who has established an Immortal Foundation, a round trip is no simple matter."

"Uh..."

Jiang Yang was at a loss for words. Hearing several unfamiliar place names in succession, he could not help marveling at the world's vastness. He could not even name all the places within the Zheng Kingdom, let alone those beyond it.

He had not expected the Heqiu Snowfield to be so far from Rain Xiang Mountain, either, so he declared boldly:

"Then attain the Violet Palace, roam the Great Void, ascend to heaven and delve into the earth. You'll reach it in the snap of a finger."

These words also expressed a small hope in Jiang Yang's heart. He did not know what realm he would have to attain before the day came when he could return home.

Shang Qingzheng's eyes widened, astonished by the youthful spirit of the boy before her. Then she could not help laughing:

"You make it sound so easy. I don't even have the confidence to entertain the wild dream of attaining the Violet Palace, yet you're certainly bold.

Do you know how many sect cultivators there are in the Zheng Kingdom alone, and how few have mastered Divine Powers?"

After hearing this, Jiang Yang waved a hand unconcernedly and said:

"Who cares how many? There are some, after all. If it can be done, why can't I be the one to do it?"

Then he looked at Shang Qingzheng's radiant little face and said earnestly:

"Though I know nothing about Divine Powers or the Violet Palace, I understand they're extraordinarily difficult to attain. But without even that wild dream, I'll surely end up as dry bones in a tomb, crying helplessly in vain."

Jiang Yang's resolve was firm. However steep the mountain, however difficult the climb, as long as he lived another day, he would simply keep climbing.

If he did not even dare to dream, he would not have the slightest hope of success.