Chapter Thirty-Seven: What Is Righteousness?

In a dilapidated temple outside Luocheng, there sat an old man and a young woman. The elder's hair and beard were entirely white, his body draped in a gray robe. One hand held up a signboard, the other a small bell. The younger was a girl, dressed in a pink gauze dress, her large, watery eyes exuding a captivating innocence.

Yet at this moment, the girl seemed a little angry, the traces of her displeasure still lingering on her face. She frowned deeply and raised her voice, "Old Withered, you said Su Fan would return within these days, but he hasn't come back. What's going on?"

The elder, addressed as Old Withered, could only shake his head helplessly. "Perhaps his fortune in the Cold Mountain Valley has not yet ended. Give it a few more days—he will surely return."

The girl’s expression grew anxious. "Old Withered, Grandpa Withered, these lies you tell might fool others, but you expect me to believe them too?"

As she spoke, she kept glancing at the old man, as if his actions themselves were speaking. Suddenly, her expression transformed into one of cheerful pleading. "Please, help me divine his fate once more. How is he now?"

Old Withered shot her a glare, but could only offer a resigned smile. With clear reluctance, he withdrew a dark green tortoiseshell from his sleeve, muttering under his breath, "Stubborn girl, all for a fish, you’d have this old man waste his spiritual energy."

“Fish” was the term swindlers used for their targets; those who fell for their tricks were said to have swallowed the fisherman’s hook.

Hearing his grumbling, the girl hurried over, took his arm, and smiled sweetly, "Grandpa Withered, you’re the best. Soon I’ll bring you some fine wine from the tavern."

The old man snorted lightly, flicked his sleeve, and sat cross-legged, closing his eyes. He tossed the tortoiseshell into the air, then produced a twig and tapped at the void. Instantly, a golden symbol appeared.

With each movement of his branch, more symbols spun into being. The girl grew increasingly anxious, pacing the temple, her eyes darting between Old Withered and the growing web of golden light. At last, the old man’s lips curled into a faint smile. He tapped the tortoiseshell; the golden symbols flowed into it.

Bathed in a brilliant gold, the emerald shell pulsed with light. The old man caught it and pressed it to his brow. Suddenly, his expression darkened, and his eyes snapped open.

The girl rushed to his side, "Grandpa Withered, what’s wrong? Did you see Su Fan?"

He replied softly, "How could this be? How is it different from my last divination? How could I be wrong again?"

The girl, even more agitated, pressed, "Grandpa Withered, has something happened to Su Fan?"

With head bowed, the old man sighed, "Su Fan’s mother was slain by Suo Rongcheng of the Three Sovereigns’ Stronghold, her soul taken. Now, Su Fan is surely seeking vengeance. Though the Three Sovereigns’ Stronghold is not as mighty as the Heavenly Origin Sect, it has stood for a century and has the power to defend itself.

"The stronghold is rife with danger. With Su Fan’s current cultivation, I fear his chances are slim. If you wish to save him, your best hope is to persuade him to seek help from the Heavenly Origin Sect. A noble sect might yet offer a turning point."

Without another word, the girl whirled and dashed out of the temple. Before Old Withered could give chase, the sky was already streaked with red clouds. Leaning against the temple door, he murmured, "How could I be wrong? In all my years, my divinations have never failed, yet with him I am mistaken time and again." With that, he sat in meditation.

It was early winter. Leaves cascaded from the Heavenly Origin Mountain. After days of flight, Su Fan finally arrived at Longshi Village. He turned swiftly and sped toward his home. Over the years, only his family remained in the tiny mountain settlement; the rest had moved to nearby towns or passed away.

Seeing the giant locust tree still standing at the gate, a pang of grief shot through Su Fan’s heart as he hurried into the yard. The earth was stained crimson, the rawness of the blood-red soil stabbing at his eyes like sunlight. Unbidden, tears of blood rolled down his cheeks. On the clothesline, his childhood garments swayed gently, as if welcoming their owner’s return.

Su Fan knelt at the door, his head bowed to the ground for a long time. Night fell, then dawn; the warm rays slanted across the yard. Only after an age did Su Fan slowly rise. He formed hand seals, spiritual energy coursing around him, and layers of formations flew from his hands, settling over the courtyard.

These were the most advanced formations he had mastered, left behind to protect his home from disaster—or perhaps to preserve the last vestige of peace in his heart. At length, he stopped, cast a lingering look at the yard, and left.

The Heavenly Origin Sect spanned the entire mountain. Ninety thousand steps climbed to its gate, flanked by two colossal stones that formed the mountain portal. Before the door, two golden qilin beasts—so immense their heads could not be seen—prowled the clouds, so lifelike they seemed living primordial beasts. Standing sentinel on either side, they struck terror into all who dared approach; the timid would be chilled to the bone at the sight.

Yet Fan Ruoyu paid no heed. Her mind was consumed with worry for Su Fan. She herself did not understand why this “fish” could stir such emotion within her.

Perhaps it was the youth’s stubbornness, perhaps his innocence. Whatever the reason, he had found his way into the deepest part of her heart.

She had thought, when Old Withered rescued her from a pile of corpses, that her heart would never again hold anyone else. She had believed her life’s only purpose was to grow stronger and take revenge. It was a weary path for any woman, but she had resolved to walk it.

But after meeting Su Fan, everything changed. The hatred she once clung to had long since dissipated, despite Old Withered’s repeated scoldings.

Composing herself, Fan Ruoyu knocked gently at the great door. With a creak, the towering gate swung open and a young Daoist boy emerged. He glanced her over and said, "What brings you here? This is a place of utmost importance—outsiders are not permitted."

Fan Ruoyu forced a weak smile. "Would you please inform your steward? I wish to request an audience."

The young Daoist sneered, "Do you think you can meet the steward just because you want to? I’ve been here for years and never seen him myself."

Suppressing her anger, Su Fan said, "Please, just inform someone in authority."

The boy shook his head. "Unfortunately, all the elders and senior brothers are in seclusion today."

A cold light flashed in Fan Ruoyu’s eyes as she glared at him.

The boy, flustered, sat down in fright, suddenly desperate to shut the door. But before he could, Fan Ruoyu bent her knees and knelt before the gate, bowing her head. "Please, just help me pass a message," she pleaded softly.

Seeing the seriousness of the situation, the young Daoist hurried into the courtyard. Soon, he arrived before a room and knocked.

A voice, irritable, called from within, "What is it?"

The youth replied, "Uncle Master, there’s a young woman at the gate asking to meet the steward."

A pause, then, "The steward is in seclusion. No one is to be seen."

After a moment’s hesitation, the youth added, "She’s kneeling outside and refuses to leave."

A hint of anger colored the response from within, "No one is to be seen."

The young Daoist hesitated, then reluctantly made his way back.

Inside, five figures sat cross-legged. All wore red, their attire reminiscent of red kites—the disciples of the Heavenly Origin Sect’s red branch, no doubt.

Outside, Fan Ruoyu remained kneeling. The youth, brow furrowed, ran back to her. "The steward is in seclusion, as are the other elders. The senior brothers have ordered that no one is to be seen." Without waiting for her reply, he quickly slipped inside and closed the gates tightly.

Fan Ruoyu raised her head, her sorrowful gaze fixed upon the imposing characters of the ancient sect, the golden words "Heavenly Origin Sect" blazing like a dragon brimming with righteous spirit.

Suddenly, she smiled—a smile so full of sadness, disappointment, perhaps even despair. Was it despair at Su Fan’s chivalry, or sorrow for his innocence?

At some point, snow began to fall, the flakes thickening as they drifted down. The ancient pines, standing sentinel for millennia, were soon shrouded in white. The fierce qilin beasts, now blanketed in snow, lost their former majesty.

Before the Heavenly Origin Sect’s gate stood a snowman—pure white, motionless. Only upon approaching could one see that it was, in fact, a living person.

Inside the tightly shut gates, the young Daoist pressed his face to the door’s crack, peering out and muttering, "How strange—she’s frozen like this and still won’t leave. I’d like to help her, but the elders would surely punish me." Sighing, he turned and ran into the courtyard.

Behind the snowman stood a man in gray, blood tears in his eyes. He walked softly to the snowman, crouched down, and with his broad hand brushed away the snow. Drops of blood fell onto the snow, seeping through and dyeing it crimson.

At last, the snow fell away, revealing a young woman. The man in gray gently gathered her into his arms, his eyes empty, holding her dazedly without a trace of expression.

Dong… dong… dong… The peal of bells shattered the sky. Sunlight glared off the snow. The youth gently set the girl in pink aside, stood, and said, "Ruoyu, I must have my revenge. You should go back."

Rising, Fan Ruoyu replied softly, "I will go with you. Even if I die by your side, I have no regrets."

Su Fan’s gaze faltered. He took her hand, and together they soared into the sky.

The Three Sovereigns’ Stronghold was founded atop a nameless peak a thousand miles beyond the Heavenly Origin Mountain. For centuries, the entire fortress had been built into the mountainside, bristling with fierce defensive formations said to have been laid by the founding ancestor himself.

To breach the stronghold, one had to overcome each of its seven gates, each guarded by an elder and many powerful disciples. Even without resistance, entering the stronghold was difficult—let alone attempting an assault.

Su Fan and Fan Ruoyu now stood before the first gate of the stronghold. This gate resembled a city tower, high walls rising all around. Su Fan sneered, and with a wave of his hand, several formations flew forth, forcibly dispelling all the surrounding defenses.

The patrols on the tower were instantly alarmed, rushing to raise an alarm—but Su Fan simply waved his hand, and the guard dissolved into a mist of blood. More patrols, seeing him, sped toward him.

His gaze icy, Su Fan slew them all with a gesture, seizing their souls. Then he turned to the city gate, gathering his spiritual power to conjure a massive mountain and hurling it against the tower.

Moments later, an elder appeared atop the battlements. Fat and contemptuous, he spoke dismissively, "Ignorant whelp! You think you can break through the Three Sovereigns’ gates? I’m in a good mood now—run along. If I lose my patience, I’ll destroy you."