Volume 3, Chapter 1 – Remaining Regret (1)

Three months later, snow was falling thick and fast.

In a small inn on the southern outskirts of the Chilong Circuit, the main hall was packed. Some guests had their heads down, eating rich, warming food; others lounged about, gazes fixed on the raised platform ahead as they followed the storyteller’s words, letting another scene unfold in their minds.

“Ka!” The old gentleman on stage spat out an exaggerated sound effect, sudden and sharp, making more than a few people jolt inwardly.

“Now then, that Shenming Sword—when the sword came out, the wind rose and thunder boomed in its wake! In a flash faster than lightning, it pierced straight into that prince’s brow. Not a single person present could react in time!”

“That Dao Master of the Demon-Immortal Dao also froze for a heartbeat. Once he understood the situation, he tried to explode into action and charge at the Lady Xiang.”

“He had a fine steel longsword in his hand, cold light gleaming! Its body was forged from the flagpole of the ‘Chishui Banner’ itself, able to seize souls and snatch spirits, with countless bloody, resentful ghosts coiling about the blade…”

“This is getting more and more ridiculous.”

In a corner of the hall, a young girl muttered under her breath.

“Seize souls and snatch spirits, with all those bloody, resentful ghosts coiling around it, huh.”

“If a sword like that really existed in this world, I’ll eat this table.”

She wore her hair in two ponytails—but unlike the usual twin-tails, hers weren’t obvious from the front. The two braids hung down from her shoulders to her chest, adding a touch of gentle grace to her otherwise playful cuteness.

“When you’re out in the world, watch more, talk less.” Beside her, a fair-skinned boy propped his chin up in one hand. He wore a pair of round glasses and, while staring at the storyteller’s platform, scolded her, “If someone else hears you and takes offense, it’ll just turn into another conflict.”

“A conflict is a conflict!” The girl shot him a fierce glare before ducking her head. “We’ve got Master Han here anyway. These small fries and whatever—they’re not even enough for Master Han to deal with using one hand…”

She sounded tough, but she quietly turned her volume down. Only people sitting close could hear.

The boys and girls traveling with them all broke into cheerful grins.

Ah, watching Bai Chenyu and Luo Yan bicker like this had practically become a staple program on this whole trip.

Especially at mealtimes—watching them for a few moments was enough to get anyone’s appetite going.

“Chenyu.” The tall girl sitting next to them leaned over and asked, “Your surname is Bai too… doesn’t that make you kin with that Bai Xiang from a thousand years ago?”

A thousand years ago, seriously…

Bai Chenyu helplessly abandoned his sprawled posture. He raised a hand to push up his round glasses and said, “And what, I’m supposed to claim we’re related now?”

“So stingy!” The tall girl froze for a beat, then puffed out her cheeks in indignation.

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It was just a question. Couldn’t they joke around a little? Did he really have to react that strongly?

“Xiao Jiu, that’s where you’re wrong.” Someone at the same table cut in to correct her. “You can’t address the Dao Master of Shenming like that. You either call her ‘Lady Xiang,’ or, if you want to be respectful, ‘Dao Master Bai.’”

“‘Lady Xiang’ is off-limits.” Before the words had even fully fallen, Bai Chenyu refuted them without looking up. “Storytelling is recounting history, which is why they can address her that way here.”

“Outside of this kind of special setting, only cultivators of the same rank as her or people with close blood ties can call her that. Anyone else using it is being disrespectful.”

“Etiquette, etiquette, etiquette! All you ever talk about is etiquette!” Luo Yan picked up her chopsticks and tapped them against her bowl. “How can a person be this stiff? Are you going to insist on an old-style eight-carried bridal sedan when you get married too?”

“An eight-carried sedan is for marrying a proper highborn young lady.” Bai Chenyu looked straight at her, utterly serious. “Either way, you can forget about it. No matter who’s judging, you don’t qualify as a proper highborn young lady.”

The whole table burst into laughter. Luo Yan’s eyes instantly reddened; she turned away from everyone and ran outside.

“Hey!” The tall girl, “Xiao Jiu,” immediately dragged Bai Chenyu to the door. Seeing he still had that wooden expression, she couldn’t help leaning close to scold him. “What are you standing there for? Go after her!”

“I have no interest in Luo Yan.” Bai Chenyu calmly told Xiao Jiu, “She’s not my type.”

“Even when it’s the girl chasing the boy, it’s this exhausting now?” Xiao Jiu clutched her forehead in exasperation.

But she quickly put her fierce look back on. “We’re not talking feelings right now. She’s someone you pissed off and drove away. The least you can do is bring her back, right?”

“That’s true.” Bai Chenyu nodded. “Then let go, Ninth Sister. I’ll be right back.”

“Maniac…”

Watching the boy walk out with the Sword-Student Wooden Sword on his back, Xiao Jiu looked up at the curtain of falling snow and couldn’t help but sigh. “He looks every bit the handsome young swordsman, so how is it that he’s such a weirdo inside?”

Half an hour later, Bai Chenyu returned, with Luo Yan trailing behind him, her eyes still red.

That’s it? Settled, just like that?

Everyone stared, dumbfounded.

They looked at Bai Chenyu.

His breathing was calm and even as he unhurriedly patted snow off his clothes.

Then they looked at Luo Yan.

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Aside from her slightly red-rimmed eyes, she didn’t seem to have suffered anything much.

Only her pursed lips still had a bit of red syrup stuck to them—clear proof someone had treated her to candied hawthorn skewers.

They spent the night at the inn. The next day, Han Yuanfeng officially called the group together to take headcount, making sure no one was missing or miscounted, then prepared to set off with the students.

“Teacher Han.” Bai Chenyu walked up to him. “I asked around yesterday. The information I got is that there’s a ‘blood mist’ blocking the road up ahead.”

“…You’re quite thoughtful.”

Han Yuanfeng couldn’t help giving him another look and praised, “Among the first-year students, not many think this way.”

Han Yuanfeng held two posts. One was as an instructor at the Sword Institute of Liangzhou University; the other was as an inner disciple of one of the Mountain-and-River–grade dojos, the Red-Dust Sword Dao.

Once he finished this escort mission, he’d be able to get promoted and formally obtain the qualifications to accept inner disciples as his own students.

As for what this escort mission was all about, that had to be traced back to the demon chaos that had erupted three months ago in the regions of Ze and Qi.

The Southern Prince betrayed the Dao, took the Emperor’s favor with him to seek refuge with the demons, and actually tried to summon the Sea of Blood into the mortal world—offering the two provinces and eight circuits up as blood food for the demon race.

Then “Shenming Bai Xiang” appeared out of nowhere, stepped into the Dao in a single day and entered the Divine Fetus realm. Together with the Dao Masters of Benling Sword Dao, Shangqing Sword Dao, and Yuming Sword Dao, the four joined forces to suppress and kill the Southern Prince.

Rumor had it the Yuming Dao Master was even her master.

Han Yuanfeng didn’t know the specifics; there were far too many stories about this person, and he had no idea which ones to believe.

But the fallout was extremely vile. Not only had Great Yu lost face internationally, subsequent investigations even found Shinu agents secretly making trouble behind the scenes.

Vassal states had slipped out of control, and the rebellious royal clan had been dragged back into public debate.

He’d heard Yujing was furious over this. The august one who resided within Qianyu Palace had even damaged his health from the rage, with the aftereffects still not fully healed.

Not that any of that had anything to do with Han.

Han Yuanfeng took the gourd from his waist and happily downed a mouthful of burning liquor.

All he had to do was lead this “genius class” around for a bit, collect some geographic information, then he could go back and sleep the sleep of the dead.

The “genius class” was what they called these students of various ages.

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The youngest were still in their third year of middle school; the older ones were in their third year of high school.

They were all specially approved by Liangzhou University—kids whose talent in the Sword Dao had caught the university’s eye and who were being taken in advance for careful cultivation.

As for collecting geographic information, that still had to do with the demon chaos.

Although those four had joined forces to quell the Southern Prince’s rebellion, they hadn’t been able to completely seal the mouth of the Sea of Blood. As a result, eight springs of the blood sea remained in Ze and Qi, spewing forth again after a set interval.

The accumulated blood mist couldn’t dissipate and just kept gathering near the springheads, thickening and thickening until it formed seas of blood mist.

If ordinary living beings touched the blood mist, their bodies would dissolve and melt into it. Only by using demonic power to form a membrane of demonic aura around their bodies could people barely enter to investigate and move around.

The situation in Qizhou was relatively better. The seas of blood mist were separated from one another. Han Yuanfeng had heard same-sect seniors say that the four seas of blood mist in Zezhou had all merged along the momentum of the Jing River, forming a single “Great Blood-Cloud Marsh,” forcibly transforming the once-vibrant region around the Jing River into a forbidden zone to life.

This was the kind of event that could literally redraw maps. Naturally, many factions had to send people to survey the region in person.

Liangzhou University was doing so, and so were the other nine prefectures.

“We’re actually the ones who came late.”

Walking through the snow, Han Yuanfeng recalled the elders’ attitudes.

Every one of them had found this region troublesome. The other nine prefectures had sent their investigators out within about two weeks of the incident; only them—three months had gone by before they finally dispatched a group.

Wasn’t the Red-Dust Sword Dao supposed to flock to wherever things were most exciting?

Han Yuanfeng didn’t understand. He suspected there was more to this that he wasn’t privy to.

After they walked for a while, the snow finally stopped.

Snow in the third month already.

Han Yuanfeng lifted his head to glance at the sky.

For the southern regions, this kind of weather was deeply abnormal.

He frowned and cast a glance back. Behind him, he saw one boy and girl after another in somewhat thin cotton jackets, Sword-Student Wooden Swords on their backs, helping one another along as they trudged forward through the snow.

But they weren’t what he was really looking at.

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He was watching what followed behind them.

“Chenyu—”

Han Yuanfeng called Bai Chenyu over. Right in front of the older-year students, he instructed him, “I’m going to go check the rear. You take the lead for now. Follow the route you asked about yesterday and go around.”

Bai Chenyu nodded. Han passed the wine gourd that symbolized his identity over to the boy, patted his shoulder, then his figure flickered and vanished.

Whoosh, whoosh—

Han Yuanfeng slipped into the roadside woods and darted forward at speed, circling quickly around to a bend in the official road where he caught sight of a line of people in the distance.

They looked like refugees.

Han Yuanfeng frowned.

Each and every one was sallow and skinny, dressed in tattered winter clothes.

There were men and women, young and old.

Some were in small family clusters, clearly having brought along their entire households.

“Old sir.”

He stepped out suddenly, picking out an old man whose movements seemed relatively spry. “May I ask, where are you all headed?”

The refugees around them jumped in fright at his sudden appearance. Only after they took in his attire—a shabby leather coat as well, a black longsword on his back, but with dignified features and a decent, upright face—did they finally let out a breath.

“You don’t even know where this road leads, and you still dare walk this way?”

The old man’s ears were wrapped in bandages, giving him a distinctive look among the crowd. He glared at Han Yuanfeng, as if baffled by his audacity.

“Oh?” Han Yuanfeng raised a brow and slung an arm around the old man’s shoulders. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

On the surface, his surprise was perfectly measured. In secret, a few banknotes appeared in his hand, which he quietly stuffed into the old man’s chest.

“Come with me!”