Volume 2, Chapter 22 – Learning the Sword

“Senior Sister?”

From the front passenger seat, a pretty ponytailed girl turned her head, looking at Bai Xiang with some confusion. “Senior Sister, what are you looking at?”

Her name was Hu Hu, and the driver sitting beside her, Ma Yue, were both disciples who had joined within the past month.

Ma Yue had a long horsey face, slightly dark skin, and a steady, mature temperament. Other than sharing Bai Lianzhou’s dislike of talking, he was actually pretty decent in every way.

Hu Hu was much more lively. Her trademark feature was the way the hair at the front of her head stuck up on its own, exposing a soft, broad stretch of forehead that made people want to flick it with two fingers when they saw it.

Neither of them came from money. Bai Lianzhou believed that only people with no way out would pour their whole heart into the Sword Dao, so most of the early batches he recruited were common-born disciples like these.

As for these kids, the ones who came to register mostly did so because their parents wanted them to.

After all, with Bai Xiang’s victory in the Sword Dao bout, the name of Shenming Sword had spread far and wide. These parents didn’t expect Shenming Sword to reach the level of the Seventy-Two Paths, but it clearly looked way stronger than the likes of Huanxi Sword Dao.

But the kids themselves genuinely wanted to join Shenming Sword Dao. Apart from a very small number who were purely here to train in the sword, most of them, when they made this choice, were actually influenced by Bai Xiang.

To put it bluntly—they were here for their idol.

Ma Yue was a gourd with a sealed mouth, but Hu Hu never hid the fact that she was a fan of Bai Xiang. Every day she stuck to Bai Zhuqing’s heels like a little tagalong whenever Bai Zhuqing came out to show off, calling her “Little Senior Sister” with every other breath and asking her every day why “Senior Sister” still hadn’t come out.

In Bai Zhuqing’s own words, it was: “If you weren’t a girl, someone like you wouldn’t even be qualified to enter the dojo.”

Of course, that was just her venting, because Bai Lianzhou wasn’t stupid.

Kids whose heads weren’t in the right place and were only here to chase stars—he didn’t want them.

(Winning a duel meant they could accept disciples from Chengfeng Sword Dao, but Bai Lianzhou rejected most of them.)

“There’s something I need to do,” Bai Xiang said casually, looking up at her. “Change the destination. I need to stop by the school first.”

So there’s a side quest too?

Hu Hu was delighted, assuming this was extra. After Bai Xiang was done at the school, they could still drive her to the Jobs Directorate.

Wasn’t that basically a voluntary extension of their service time? What fan would get a chance like this and not be happy?

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See, camping at the inner hall entrance every day was the right move!

Senior Sister comes out looking for someone to drive her, and of course Master Bai picks me first, right?

Hu Hu secretly jabbed her elbow and clenched her fist, her expression morphing into a clear “=v=”.

Master Bai = Bai Lianzhou.

Bai Xiang counted as a public figure now. It was no longer appropriate for her to go out alone and show her face everywhere. So the dojo had assigned her a car, and every time she went out she had to be accompanied by one male disciple who could drive and one well-behaved, sensible female disciple.

Ma Yue didn’t say anything, just turned the steering wheel and prepared to U-turn at the intersection.

Chilong No. 1 High School came into view quickly.

“So nostalgic…” Hu Hu craned her neck to look at the crowd, a wistful look in her eyes.

Sword-Track Students came in two types: the ones who still did liberal-arts or science, and the ones who didn’t.

Those who did liberal-arts or science still had to come to school for classes and practiced sword in their spare time.

Those who didn’t were like Hu Hu and Ma Yue. Their enrollment was only registered on paper at the school; normally they went straight to the dojo and trained in the sword full-time.

This split started right after the end of ninth grade. Hu Hu had attended the big lecture classes here before, and she did miss the atmosphere a little.

It was four in the afternoon. Some of the junior high classes had already let out. A lot of kids, backpacks on and wooden swords in hand, were being picked up by their parents. The school gate was packed with people.

Unlike at noon when the whole school was dismissed at once, the road wasn’t too badly clogged. Ma Yue insisted on driving right up to the front gate, and there he immediately spotted a twin-tailed girl sitting on the steps of the fruit shop beside the entrance.

She stood out too much.

No backpack, head lowered, a phone clutched in her hands, her face buried in shadow. She really did look completely out of sync with the world around her.

“That’s her,” Bai Xiang said with a nod, pushing open the car door and getting out.

That act only made the traffic jam worse.

A lot of people nearby turned their heads out of habit—and then couldn’t tear their eyes away.

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“It’s Bai Xiang…”

“It’s Senior Sister? For real?”

“Senior Sister’s here! Senior Sister’s here!”

The news spread fast, and the noise level shot up.

Even the on-duty students who were supposed to be maintaining order couldn’t sit still anymore, rocking up on their toes to get a look at her. The atmosphere was buzzing.

If Bai Xiang showed up at the Jobs Directorate, it wouldn’t cause this kind of sensation.

But school was the kids’ turf, and she herself was a student of No. 1 High. She’d already earned a nickname here—the students affectionately called her “Senior Sister.”

Bai Xiang didn’t care about any of that; otherwise, she wouldn’t have gotten out of the car.

But in Chen Jing’s panicked, upturned eyes, her appearance really did have that “all eyes on you” and “the one everyone’s been waiting for” feeling.

If Chen Jing was being forced out of the world by fear and grievance, then Bai Xiang was the one dragging the whole world down from the sky, forcing all those people who’d never cared about Chen Jing to look this way.

To Chen Jing, it felt like the sky had gone bright.

Even after three days of disappointment, hope still flared up in her chest.

A little over ten minutes later, led by someone they knew—Ma Bolan—Bai Xiang and Chen Jing arrived at an empty classroom.

There was no parking near the school, so Ma Yue couldn’t come. Only Hu Hu, hugging her sword, and Ma Bolan stayed at the door, locked in a staring contest, neither willing to speak first.

That was at Bai Xiang’s request—she and Chen Jing needed to talk, and there was no way she’d let anyone sit in and listen.

Ignoring Chen Jing for the moment, Bai Xiang set Feixiang Heaven on the desk and sat down first. She exhaled lightly and peered out the window from her seat.

She’d stirred up such a reaction that, just looking at the banner still hanging over the gate of No. 1 High, there was no way she could “pass by her alma mater without going in.” So she’d chosen to hold the talk here inside the school.

“This matter.”

Only then did she look back at her little deskmate.

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“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

As soon as those words left her mouth, tears streamed down Chen Jing’s cheeks.

With her father missing, there was suddenly no man in the house. Only she and her mother were left to beg people and call in favors, trying to find out what had happened… That was really, really hard.

The Inspectorate, the Roads Directorate, the Transport Directorate, the Supervisory Directorate—they had basically tried every channel they could think of.

The better ones just treated Mother Chen and Chen Jing like a ball to be kicked back and forth—either shirking responsibility or telling them to go home and wait for news.

The worse ones… she couldn’t even bring herself to repeat what they’d said. They were trying to take advantage of a crisis, asking for money and for her body.

They asked the school. The school couldn’t help either.

Homeroom teacher Gao Feng really did look like some street punk, but the only useful suggestion had come from him.

He told Chen Jing that small-scale Aberration incidents in Chilong Circuit were not in short supply; with a simple missing-person case and no other evidence, the Inspectorate simply wouldn’t accept it.

That was him being as tactful as he could.

After hearing Chen Jing out, Bai Xiang had a rough idea of what was going on.

What he really meant was: without a corpse, they couldn’t open a case.

“They said Dad’s only been missing ten days, not even a month, so they can’t do anything for us yet,” Chen Jing said, eyes red, her voice shaking.

“Relatives?” Bai Xiang asked.

“We’ve begged our relatives, but those people only stuck close to us because of Dad’s job. Once something happened to him, their faces all changed. The few who were willing to help couldn’t find a way in either.”

“And the company?” Bai Xiang frowned. “Qingyun Pharmaceuticals.”

“Qingyun Pharmaceuticals wouldn’t even let us through the gate…”

She could hold it together with other topics, but once Qingyun was mentioned, Chen Jing couldn’t help wanting to cry out of sheer grievance.

Bai Xiang asked her why she hadn’t come to her for help sooner, but she was too ashamed to say it was because she felt the distance between them had grown—felt she wasn’t worthy of troubling her.

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If she hadn’t been utterly desperate, even thinking of killing herself to use her death to make a bigger splash and appeal to society at large, she would never have messaged Bai Xiang.

Poor child.

Bai Xiang could only shake her head again and again as she listened.

Chen Jing was basically the only friend she had at No. 1 High.

Never mind that Chen Zhien was already involved with the case she was investigating—even if he weren’t, just on the strength of this relationship, she’d see it through to the end.

But they couldn’t keep going like this forever.

Given how things stood, it was unlikely she would take the Big Exam—the national Sword Exam route.

Any fish pond that could be blown sky-high by Chai Xuan wasn’t worth staying in anyway.

She’d wanted to go to Qizhou University in the first place because of Chai Xuan. Now that Chai Xuan was dead, her options had suddenly opened up, and she’d probably be heading off to other provinces in the future.

By that time, who would still care that Chen Jing had once shared a desk with her for a few days?

So that wouldn’t do.

She needed a once-and-for-all solution.

“I’ll help you inquire about this,” Bai Xiang said.

Chen Jing had been watching her this whole time. As soon as she heard that, she nodded hard, hope lighting up in her eyes.

“But as for you…”

Bai Xiang looked at her.

“Would you be willing to learn the sword from me?”