In the seventh year of King Zheng of Qin's reign, winter had arrived. Last year at this time, they had reached Jiyang City—the longest they'd lingered anywhere during their four years away from the mountain.
With the aid of the True Person Pill, Xue Nu had edged up to the threshold of the Chongxu Heart Method's fifth layer, needing just one final push. In jianghu terms, that placed her squarely in the mid-second-rate echelon. As for Xiao Meng... well, heaven only knew her current realm. Folks like her, with their blatant cheats, left every golden finger in the tales weeping in envy. She'd surged ahead without a single bottleneck, sampling every major Daoist heart method and reaching no mean heights in each—heading toward a Daoist Scripture convergence, no less. And the Tian Ren pact? Heh, with our sect sealed tight, fight or not, you lot can guess the outcome.
"From now on, Jianjia's yours. This is the Jianjia sword manual—master it, and we'll set out." Li Haimo handed Xue Nu the verdant Jianjia blade and a stone-engraved copy of the technique. He'd taken her on as sword attendant, yet here he was, toting all three swords himself. Who asked for no cultivation? And with Xiao Meng and Xue Nu thick as sisters now, I'm the odd one out—freezing my nights away in solitude.
"Thank you, Master!" Xue Nu beamed, taking the azure longsword and the etched slab.
The Jianjia sword manual had come from Changping Lord's estate and been archived in the Renzong's collection, so Li Haimo knew it well enough to transcribe a copy onto stone for her.
As Xue Nu and Xiao Meng's cultivations rocketed, Li Haimo had no choice but to redouble his Daoist Scripture efforts. He'd finally mastered the Wind After's Odd Gates in full, now delving into the inscriptions on the divine sword Tianding—etching every character onto slabs, poring over them daily, sense or nonsense be damned. He scoured every scrap of lore on Tianding and whatever Daoist Scripture fragments the Yan royals hoarded.
"Is Master losing it?" Xue Nu and Xiao Meng watched Li Haimo claw at his ears and scratch his head before the Tianding slab.
"Pretty much—though who knows for sure? Last night, I caught him grinning like an idiot in his sleep, muttering about becoming a Yellow Turban Mighty Warrior." Xiao Meng replied.
With great effort, she'd waited for Xue Nu to doze off before slipping to Li Haimo's room—only to find him entranced, hauling a log by the hot spring pool and flailing it wildly, proclaiming, I am the Yellow Turban Mighty Warrior, Heaven's Divine General Tianding—yield, you petty villains! She'd yanked him back inside in a panic, but even abed, he bellowed of his boundless might, shifting seas and filling oceans. She'd stood vigil all night, too spooked to sleep.
"Is cultivating the Daoist Scripture really that harrowing?"
The two exchanged glances, both convinced it was a bottomless pit. No wonder the sect forbade it without leave. Good thing his cultivation's gone—else, at this rate, one slip into "Northern Sea Has a Fish," and Jiyang City's dust.
Li Haimo paid them no mind, his thoughts and gaze swimming with tadpole-like glyphs. He'd figured it like the Taixuan Scripture in Knight's Journey—aligning with acupoints. Damn near crippled myself. His legs had locked up, immobile—thank the stars Xiao Meng had spotted it and smoothed his channels, or he'd be wheelchaired for life.
"What is it, though?" Li Haimo muttered to himself, wandering—stepping straight into the hot spring pool without a glance, plodding on.
"Uncle Master, we really just... let him?" Xue Nu eyed Li Haimo splashing through the bath, turning to Xiao Meng.
"Let him be—as long as he doesn't croak." Xiao Meng wasn't for ignoring him; the man just tuned out all reason now.
"Should we head back to Taiyi for the uncles' help?" Xue Nu pressed, uneasy.
"You think they'd help?" Xiao Meng shot back. The only real shot was Master Beiming Zi—but his own case mirrored Li Haimo's to a tee.
"Master could pitch in, but then you'd see 'Northern Sea Has a Fish' up close." Xiao Meng shuddered at the image.
Under the night sky: Beiming Zi clutching a "fish," proclaiming, I am the Kunpeng—submerge as Kun, soar as Peng—behold, Northern Sea Has a Fish! Li Haimo with Lingxu in grip: I am the Yellow Turban Mighty Warrior, Divine General Tianding—uproot mountains, drain seas, might unending—witness my tidal upheavals! Then the brawl. Cultivation-less Li Haimo would end like their first meeting: pinned and pummeled across the floor, then lofted like a kite by Beiming Zi. Unthinkable.
That night, Xue Nu and Xiao Meng slept soundly—until odd noises roused them. Peering out, they found Li Haimo atop the roof, astride the ridge beast Chi Wen (one of the dragon's nine sons, fond of swallows, with fire-warding gifts—oft carved on eaves).
"Folks below—how's it hanging? Hands up, come on—sing along with me!"
Xiao Meng and Xue Nu gawked. What in the world?
Once I dreamed of sword in hand, roaming heaven's edge,
Glimpsing the world's glittering sprawl,
Youth's wild heart ever so brash.
Now you claim the four seas as home.
The girl who once broke your heart
Has slipped away like a ghost.
Love leaves you yearning, yet fraught with woes.
That left you scarred from head to toe.
Di li li li di li li li den da,
Di li li li di li li li da da,
Di li li li di li li li da da...
...
Xiao Meng and Xue Nu stood slack-jawed. He sings? Xue Nu bought Xiao Meng's tale wholesale now: first meeting, indecent garb and all, he'd serenaded her too.
"Pull Master down?" Xue Nu whispered.
"Nah—they're all like this. He'll tire out and quit on his own. Interrupt, and it's pointless. Besides, isn't it kinda catchy?" Xiao Meng, seasoned veteran, plopped down—cool as a breeze.
"We're different." As Li Haimo paused, Xiao Meng recalled something and hollered up.
On the roof, Li Haimo's vacant eyes fixed on her. "Friend, you're different indeed. Next up: 'We're Different,' for one and all." Then... silence, ages long.
"Uncle Master, you sure he won't wallop you come morning?" Xue Nu eyed Xiao Meng. So this is your style.
"Relax—he dotes too much." Xiao Meng grinned.
"Er—sorry, blanked on the words. High note it is—join in, everyone!" Li Haimo piped up, resuming.
We're different,
Each with fates uniquely spun,
We're here,
Here, awaiting you.
We're different,
Though trials carve our separate ways,
We all wish,
In lives to come, to cross paths again.
All night, Li Haimo crooned from the roof; Xiao Meng and Xue Nu listened below. As dawn neared, he dozed off, cradling Chi Wen.
"Peace at last!" Xiao Meng hauled him down, tucked him in—then bunked with him, lest more mischief. Xue Nu, drained, crashed in her own room.
But this was just the opener. Next eve, no rooftop jaunt—Li Haimo grabbed Xiao Meng's hand instead.
"Junior Sister, quick—ask if I'm a bunny?"
Xiao Meng blinked in bewilderment, playing along: "Senior Brother, are you a bunny?"
"Yeah, yeah—I'm a cute wittle bunny." Li Haimo cooed, batting lashes. Xue Nu, roused, gaped at the scene.
"Junior Sister, ask again: am I a tiger?"
"Senior Brother, are you a tiger?" Xiao Meng was lost.
"You dolt—I said I'm a cute wittle bunny!" Li Haimo rolled his eyes, flopped onto bed, and snored.
Xiao Meng's mind reeled: Who am I? Where am I? Why am I humoring this fool?
"Pffft!" Xue Nu collapsed in giggles on the threshold.
"Wuchen Zi—up, you!" Xiao Meng stormed over, shoving—met with thunderous snores.
"Wonder what tonight brings." Xiao Meng and Xue Nu had the pattern down: days, he'd zone out at the slab. Nights? Pure chaos.
Third night, they spied Li Haimo rise, rummage Xue Nu's room for a skirt—don it, then primp at the mirror: makeup, hair, the works. Enter the cross-dressing diva.
"So pretty!" Xue Nu breathed. Xiao Meng nodded—save for the flat chest.
_
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