One person: Go talk to my Rumble-Rumble Fruit!

Page 92

Wang Ye tried his best to maintain the signature smile on his lips, attempting to stir up some life in the eerie atmosphere, "Things at Longhu Mountain... are all settled. Wudang Mountain is still a peaceful place..."

Master Yunlong abruptly interrupted him, a bitter, almost mocking smile tugging at the corners of his lips, shattering the calm on his face.

"Since you descended this mountain and went to the Luotian Grand Ceremony, Wudang... has it ever had a moment of peace?"

Wang Ye's heart sank.

Yunlong's gaze was sharp as a knife, seemingly trying to cut through Wang Ye's nonchalant facade and pierce the weariness and astonishment he was trying so hard to conceal: "Feng Hou Qi Men... What a Feng Hou Qi Men! Wang Ye! You have great ability! You have great courage!"

His voice suddenly rose, like a wounded tiger letting out a suppressed roar, echoing coldly across the empty square.

"Atop Dragon Tiger Mountain, beneath the Golden Light Mantra, the Eight Extraordinary Skills reappear in the world! Do you know how much turmoil you have stirred up? Do you know how many greedy, covetous eyes you have brought to the seventy-two peaks of Wudang?!"

The languid expression on Wang Ye's face finally froze and shattered completely. He opened his mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing laboriously a few times: "Master...this disciple...this disciple at that time..."

The words of explanation rolled on the tip of his tongue—was it out of necessity?

Was it forced by circumstances?

Was it to save someone?

Is it to break the deadlock?

However, when he saw the deep weariness in Master Yunlong's eyes, which did not stem from anger but from the helplessness of some grander and heavier pressure, all his explanations became pale and powerless, stuck in his throat.

"No need to say it."

Master Yunlong abruptly flicked his sleeve, his movement resolute, as if severing all ties. "Right and wrong will be judged by history. But Wudang... this mountain, this ancestral home of a thousand-year-old Taoist tradition, cannot bear this burden! Nor can it accommodate it!"

He took a deep breath, the mountain wind filling his lungs with a bone-chilling cold. Each word, crystal clear, uttered from his lips, each syllable like a quenched icicle, piercing Wang Ye's eardrums:

"From this day forward, Your Majesty..."

"Not a disciple of Wudang!"

"Immediately... expel them from the Wudang Mountain sect!"

"Never to return!"

boom--! ! !

The brief verdict was like a bolt from the blue, exploding in Wang Ye's mind!

Even though his mental cultivation far surpassed that of his peers and he had long since broken free from worldly ties, he still felt a sudden darkness before his eyes, and a huge sense of loss, mixed with astonishment, confusion, and the stripping away of his foundation, instantly swept over his entire body!

His body swayed almost imperceptibly, the hard bluestone slab beneath his feet sending a cold sensation through him, but it was nothing compared to the emptiness and coldness that instantly spread through his heart.

Wang Ye blurted out almost instinctively, his voice trembling with a urgency he himself was unaware of, "This...why is this?!"

"Just because of Feng Hou Qi Men? Just because this disciple used it at Longhu Mountain?! This disciple..."

He wanted to say that his disciple had never intended to use this technique to gain fame or reputation!

I want to say that I only use it to resolve this situation!

I want to say that all my knowledge and skills are rooted in Wudang!

However, when his eager gaze met Master Yunlong's deep, pool-like eyes, all his words came to an abrupt halt.

There was no anger or blame in his eyes, only a bottomless, almost pitying pain and an unwavering resolve.

It was an expression that Wang Ye had never seen on his master's face before—a pain that came from severing ties with one's own hands in order to protect something more important.

"This is... the intention of the sect leader."

Yunlong's voice lowered, carrying an indescribable sense of difficulty.

He turned slightly to the side, his gaze falling on the dark hall deep within the Zixiao Palace where the portrait of the patriarch was enshrined. It was as if he could see through the heavy doors and into the sight of the white-haired, silent old man—Sect Leader Zhou Meng.

"Grandmaster said,"

Yunlong's voice was like a dream, yet it carried an undeniable pressure: "Feng Hou Qi Men is a change of heaven and earth, with heavy karmic consequences."

"Its reappearance in Longhu Mountain has brought this changing situation to Wudang."

"How many eyes are watching? How many undercurrents are surging? The foundation of Wudang lies in self-cultivation and tranquility."

"This 'quietude and non-action' is the most precious talisman left by our ancestors to future generations... It cannot withstand the monstrous waves brought about by this amazing skill being washed away 'again'!"

“Grandmaster…” Wang Ye murmured, the image of Sect Leader Zhou Meng’s always smiling, kind face, like a kind old grandfather next door, appearing before his eyes.

It turns out that the seemingly frail and indifferent old man had already seen through everything.

This expulsion was not punishment, but... protection? A protection tinged with bloodshed and cruelty? To protect Wudang's thousand-year-old reputation and foundation, and... to protect him, the king?

Master Yunlong said nothing more, but silently took out a neatly folded cloth bag from the wide sleeves of his Taoist robe.

The cloth bag was indigo, the color most commonly used by Wudang disciples. Inside was the only formal Taoist robe with blue cloud-patterned trim that Wang Ye wore during his training at Wudang Mountain, symbolizing his status as an inner disciple.

He handed the cloth bag to Wang Ye, his movements heavy as if he were lifting a mountain.

"The fundamental skills that Wudang taught you were cultivated by yourself. Take them with you."

As he watched his former beloved disciple take the cloth bag, his slender fingers trembled slightly, and the last bit of forced toughness in Master Yunlong's eyes finally crumbled, revealing a layer of barely perceptible turbid water.

"But from then on..."

"Your Majesty, I am bound by life and death, honor and disgrace..."

"They have absolutely no connection with Wudang Mountain whatsoever!"

"No more... any connection..." Wang Ye lowered his head, his fingertips feeling the familiar texture of the Taoist robe fabric inside the cloth bag, carrying a faint scent of soapberry. This cold pronouncement finally severed the last thread of connection.

He slowly raised his head, and his usual lazy smile reappeared on his face. But this time, deep within that smile lay an indescribable desolation, like the last withered leaf on an autumn wilderness.

"...Disciple understands."

He no longer referred to himself as a "disciple." Instead, he bowed deeply to Daoist Yunlong and to the deep, secluded main hall of Zixiao Palace.

With their spines ramrod straight and their movements slow and solemn, they carried a heavy sense of ritual, as if they were shedding shackles or severing ties.

Wang Ye stood up, no longer looking at the palaces and pavilions that held all his memories of cultivation, nor at his mentor who had been like a father to him but was now pushing him away.

Wang Ye turned around and casually tossed the blue cloth bundle containing the cyan Taoist robe onto his shoulder, as if he were throwing off a cumbersome piece of luggage.

I walked down those thousand stone steps.

Walking back along the path where dusk was falling and the mountain wind was howling.

Master Yunlong remained standing in place, like a cold stone sculpture, letting the mountain wind whip the hem of his indigo Taoist robe, making it flutter loudly.

He stared intently at the slightly thin yet exceptionally upright figure that was gradually fading into the deep twilight, until the figure turned the bend in the mountain and disappeared completely at the end of the winding mountain road.

A single, murky tear finally broke free from the shackles of his will, rolling down from the corner of his deeply wrinkled eye, across his cold, stiff cheek, and crashing heavily onto the cold bluestone slab beneath his feet, shattering into countless tiny glimmers of light.

.........

The mountain wind grew stronger, swirling up withered leaves that lashed against Wang Ye's face and body, carrying the chill of late autumn.

Wang Ye seemed completely unaware, simply walking steadily down the stone steps.

The blue cloth bundle on his shoulder swayed gently with his steps.

He casually put one hand in his pocket, his fingertips touching a few hard, round little things—wild walnuts he had picked up in a secluded corner of Longhu Mountain.

He took out two pills, casually weighed them in his palm, and the desolate smile on his lips seemed a little more genuine.

"Tsk...the coldness of human relationships, the fickleness of the world..." he muttered to himself, as if speaking to the desolate mountain wind.

"A tall tree catches the wind... a tall tree... catches the wind..."

"It's better that it's over...it's peaceful now..."

Apply slight pressure with your fingertips.

A crisp sound rang out clearly on the quiet mountain path.

The hard walnut shell shattered with a crack, revealing the plump brown kernel inside.

He tossed the walnut kernels into his mouth, chewed them slowly, and savored the rich, slightly astringent aroma of the oil spreading across his tongue.

He casually and precisely tossed another walnut into the bottomless ravine beside the road. The walnut traced a tiny arc before disappearing into the dark valley below, without a sound.

He patted the debris off his hands, as if brushing away the dust of the past.

I looked up at the dark blue sky, which was cut into a narrow line by the steep mountain walls, and a few early stars twinkled coldly.

"Going back is for the best..."

Wang Ye stretched out a big yawn, his joints making a slight cracking sound.

"Fermented mung bean juice, fried dough rings, braised pork offal, and baked wheat cakes... these are much better than the bland soup from these mountains..."

He hummed a tune that was off-key and out of tune; the sound wasn't loud, but it pierced through the howling mountain wind with exceptional clarity.

"I was originally a carefree man from Wolonggang... I can stabilize the world with the power of Yin and Yang..."

"...With nothing to do, I'll play a tune on my zither in the enemy tower..."

"...I lack a kindred spirit..."

His singing, with its uniquely languid melody, echoed along the deserted mountain path, gradually fading into the distance.

It was as if the heavy scene of severing ties and being expelled from the sect had never happened.

He had just finished a normal trip and was leisurely strolling home.

However, when he clenched his right hand in his pocket again, the few hard walnuts that hadn't been crushed were silently ground into a fine, even powder by an invisible yet resilient force in his palm.

The immense force caused his knuckles to turn slightly white.

This also proves that Wang Ye's inner world is not as calm as it appears on the surface.

Behind me, the Wudang peaks stood silently like giant black monuments in the complete darkness of night.

From deep within the mountains and forests, a long and lonely cry of a crane echoed faintly, lingering for a long time.

Ahead, the city's neon lights, like a lurking beast, spew forth an inextinguishable flame.

Wang Ye's figure gradually merged into the more complex, noisier, yet freer sea of ​​lights in the mortal world.

........

On the train to Beijing.

Wang Ye's face was covered by a baseball cap.

Suddenly, Wang Ye opened his eyes. He seemed to sense something and softly said, "Beijing welcomes you..."