Yunqi withdrew his mind from the jade slip, but kept his eyes closed, quietly contemplating the incantation he had just heard.
After a short rest, Yunqi put away the jade slip and glanced at the boulder opposite him.
He formed a seal with his left hand, pressing his thumb against his middle and ring fingers while keeping his index and little fingers straight. Circulating the Metal-Element Magic Power within him, he pointed at the boulder and shouted,
"Rend!"
A keen, cutting magical intent landed on the boulder with the incantation, and a web of cracks instantly spread across its surface.
A moment later, the lake breeze swept past, and a layer of stone peeled away.
Yunqi took a look. The magical intent had penetrated barely half an inch into the boulder.
Still, he was not too disappointed. Cultivation always progressed from shallow to deep; the more one practiced, the greater one's mastery became.
As he practiced over and over, Yunqi's mastery of the incantation deepened, while the magical power within him rapidly dwindled. Fortunately, the Osmanthus Grove was an excellent metal-aspect site, making it easy to ingest metal qi.
By the second day, a hollow four feet square and one foot deep had appeared in the boulder, and Yunqi had reduced all the fallen fragments to stone powder. He reckoned that after another day, it should easily accommodate him sitting cross-legged inside. Cutting directly into it with Autumn Water might have been faster, but this process was also a way to practice his incantation and gain insight into the metal aspect.
Toward five in the afternoon, the sun sank westward, and metal qi was at its strongest. Yunqi was sitting in meditation, ingesting qi, when he suddenly heard a ringing sound from the lake, like silk being torn and metal striking stone.
Yunqi opened his eyes. The Mother Bell had made no sound at all, so the noise had to be at least three li away, yet it reached his ears with such clarity.
He took his sword, leaving his bundle in the stone hollow, and followed the sound toward the water.
Just then, three more piercing notes rang out. They were twanging sounds, each at a different pitch, seemingly carrying a tune. They actually stung his ears-not the sort of noise an ordinary mortal could produce.
The sound seemed to come from the north, but even when Yunqi stood at the water's edge and gazed into the distance, he could see nothing. He had no idea what was making it.
Yunqi was curious. The month since he had left the mountain had been uneventful, and he had encountered no cultivators along the way. Today was his first such encounter. Unable to resist, he summoned the Dragon Chariot and rode his cloud out onto the great lake.
The sound continued, but as Yunqi listened, something seemed wrong. Why did it sound as though it was coming his way?
Once he drew closer, Yunqi could hear voices.
"I say, young hero of the Golden Aspect Sect, your grandpa here didn't kill anyone from your sect. Why are you chasing me halfway across this great lake?"
The Golden Aspect Sect?
Yunqi knew of it. Its full name was the Great Hope Golden Appearance Sect, a major sect on Poyang Lake. It primarily cultivated the metal aspect and excelled at crafting magical artifacts, especially seals and zithers.
At that thought, Yunqi suddenly recognized the sound as well. So high and piercing, like silk being torn-wasn't that the sound of a pipa?
The Golden Aspect Sect was an orthodox Daoist sect. Who, then, was the person speaking?
The Golden Aspect Sect disciple seemed unwilling to engage him. He gave no reply, and the pipa's notes only grew more urgent.
Yunqi wanted to help, but he did not know either person's cultivation level. As a lowly Daoist at Qi Refining, he had better not become a burden to that young hero.
With that in mind, Yunqi lowered the Dragon Chariot. Spotting a small island nearby, he hurriedly landed.
Yunqi hid among the vegetation and looked up. Before long, he saw two specks appear over the distant lake.
They were indeed heading this way. The speck in front had already resolved into a human figure. Once Yunqi could see him clearly, he breathed a sigh of relief. The fleeing man looked young, not much older than himself, so his cultivation could hardly be sky-high. Surely he would not happen to run into some rejuvenated old monster or a prodigiously gifted Daoist scion.
The man was extraordinarily thin, yet wore a loose green Daoist robe. As he flew into the wind, the robe flapped and billowed, making his gaunt frame all the more apparent. His lower body was submerged in a mass of gray mist, which carried the green-robed Daoist swiftly over the lake's surface. He was a shade faster than Yunqi's Dragon Chariot, though not by much.
Yet his expression was remarkably carefree, hardly that of someone fleeing for his life.
By the time Yunqi finished examining the man in front, the young hero of the Golden Aspect Sect had also drawn near.
The young hero stood tall and graceful in cobalt-blue Daoist robes, with a white egret embroidered on his chest. Beneath his feet was a white feather the size of a small boat, and in his arms he held an apricot-yellow pipa. That outfit alone would have earned a thumbs-up from anyone who saw it.
His appearance was even more handsome: elegant and unrestrained in bearing, imposing in presence, with a bright, refined countenance, clear eyes, and delicately spaced brows.
The two looked just like the villain and hero in a storybook. The only flaw was that the villain did not look villainous enough. If he had disheveled hair and bloodstained robes, he would have set off the Golden Aspect Sect disciple's chivalrous air perfectly.
The villain's mouth was foul enough, though. "Hey, you from the Golden Aspect Sect! You've chased me all this way without opening your mouth once. Are you mute, or a eunuch too ashamed to face anyone? Or are you actually a woman who just looks like a man? I can smell your perfume even against the wind. How much powder did you smear on yourself?"
The young hero seemed to have reached the limit of his patience. "Evil fiends and heretics deserve death at anyone's hands! Gaunt Daoist, you came to our Poyang Lake to commit murder. How could I let you escape?"
"Heh!"
The man called the Gaunt Daoist laughed at that. Turning his head back, he raised a red Dew-Gathering Pouch in his right hand. "I say, young hero, you're from the Golden Aspect Sect, and I'm from the Dharma Appearance Sect. By the sound of it, we're the ones who belong to the same family. I only killed someone from a tiny little sect. He had nothing to do with you, not even eight bamboo poles could reach between you. Poyang Lake doesn't belong to your sect alone, either, so why meddle? How about this? Let me go today. The fellow I killed had quite a bit of wealth. Look how heavy this Dew-Gathering Pouch is. What if I share some with you? We're already at the edge of the great lake. No one will see..."
"Suppress!"
"Ow!"
"Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!"
Before the Gaunt Daoist could finish, the situation on the lake changed abruptly.
An incantation suddenly cut off the Gaunt Daoist's prattle. Speeding along, he seemed to strike a wall and halted briefly in midair, crying out in pain. The young hero of the Golden Aspect Sect immediately seized his chance. His right hand rapidly plucked and flicked the strings, producing four notes. Whether the pipa was extraordinary or the young hero's magical power was profound, four golden streaks shimmered faintly in the air, like four flying knives, and shot straight at the Gaunt Daoist.
The pause lasted less than a breath before the Gaunt Daoist broke free. But those four golden streaks were formed from the pipa's notes-how swift they were! The two men were still half a li apart, yet the golden streaks reached him in an instant.
"Ghostfire!"
The Gaunt Daoist spat out an odd curse. His right hand still clutched the money pouch tightly, but his left released a talisman arrow he had somehow already taken out. With a turn of his wrist, he produced a bronze plaque and flung it forward.
The bronze plaque expanded in the wind to seven or eight feet across, just large enough to shield the Gaunt Daoist.
"Clang, clang, clang, clang!"
The ringing of metal striking metal ran together. The golden streaks left four deep marks in the bronze plaque, as though hewn by blades and axes. Had they struck flesh, he would surely have lost an arm or a leg.
"Draw!"
Amid the crisp ringing, the voice that had upset the situation sounded again. The talisman arrow that had just fallen from between the Gaunt Daoist's fingers suddenly flew away at an angle.
The Gaunt Daoist's eyes widened, making his already fleshless face look even more terrifying. He reached out to stop it, but was a fraction too slow and caught only empty air.
"Ghostfire! Which turtle-spawn bastard is it?"
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