Chapter 84: Into a Martial Arts Novel, Day 6

Chapter 84: Day Six of Transmigrating into a Wuxia World

The night was like ink, seeping into every nook and cranny of the Fuyi Sect's main stronghold.

Almost midnight, the guard patrols seemed tighter than usual. Torches swayed in the night breeze, casting long, vigilant shadows.

The Chenxin Hall, however, was dead silent.

An Yi had shed the dark-colored robes that signified his status as the Young Master, putting on a plain white martial-arts suit. He tied his black hair up with the simplest jade hairpiece.

He stood by the window, watching the flickering silhouettes of the halls outlined by lamplight, excited to finally venture into the jianghu.

On the table, he had left only a letter stating he was going out for training, with no fixed return date.

He really hated this demonic sect.

Unlike the protagonists in the novels from his previous life who belonged to demonic sects but had their reasons, most people in the Fuyi Sect were genuinely rotten scumbags, including the original host.

In this martial world, the demonic sect was the demonic sect, and the righteous path was the righteous path.

That... was fine by him.

When the time came, he walked out without a care. Patrolling guards bowed as he passed.

An Yi ignored them, tapped into his lightness skill, and sped toward the western cliff so fast he left only a blur behind.

The western cliff was remote, wind howling, making his clothes snap.

Mist swirled below; it looked bottomless. A narrow plank path, nearly buried under weeds and vines, clung to the cliff like a scar, winding downward and vanishing into the thick fog.

Ling Fengyao was already waiting there.

He still wore the same indigo homespun robe, his back to the path, watching the dark, rolling mountains in the distance. Hearing the extremely faint footsteps behind him, he turned around.

Seeing that An Yi had indeed arrived as promised, dressed sharply and stripped of all the nobility and gloominess of the "Young Master," leaving only a cool detachment and an indescribable focus, Ling Fengyao's peach-blossom eyes flickered with admiration, then lit up with a wider smile.

"Right on time. Looks like the Young Master is set on tasting the storms of the jianghu," he said with a light laugh.

An Yi walked to the cliff's edge, eyed the perilous plank road, and grinned. "Let's go."

Ling Fengyao raised an eyebrow, said nothing more, and simply turned sharply. He tapped his toe and landed like a feather on the narrow plank, steady as a rock.

He turned back to An Yi, extending his hand jokingly. "This road isn't easy. Need a hand?"

An Yi didn't even look at his hand; he moved like a ghost, landing silently half a step away, standing perfectly steady. Even the gravel underfoot didn't roll.

Ling Fengyao's hand paused in midair for a moment, then he naturally withdrew it, rubbed his nose, and smiled with a mix of resignation and heightened interest. "My bad. The Young Master's got impressive moves."

The two moved one after the other, swiftly descending the perilous plank road.

Ling Fengyao moved gracefully and nimbly; An Yi was more eerie and unpredictable. Often, at points where there seemed to be no foothold, he could skillfully leverage subtle changes in airflow and temperature, moving lightly as if on flat ground.

Ling Fengyao occasionally looked back, seeing An Yi's effortless, almost rhythmic steps, and the surprise in his eyes deepened.

This man's martial arts were far stronger than that previous An Yi!

Why had that one been the Young Master?

After about fifteen minutes, the two finally reached solid ground.

Soft soil and dead leaves underfoot; dense forest all around, completely out of the Fuyi Sect's main stronghold.

The night wind blew, carrying the fresh scent of woods and grass, and... a whiff of alcohol.

Ling Fengyao magically untied the vermillion wine gourd from his belt, popped the cork, tilted his head back, and chugged, then let out a satisfied sigh. He then handed the gourd to An Yi, a playful smile dancing in his eyes and brows.

"Celebrating Young Master An's entry into the jianghu? How about a sip of 'Drunk Spring Breeze' to calm your nerves?"

An Yi glanced at the gourd's opening and smiled mildly. "No thanks."

This guy obviously didn't see him as the original An Yi. Maybe he honestly thought he was the original's twin?

After all, the original had thrown his weight around in the jianghu as a Fuyi Sect bully; this wasn't his first rodeo.

Seeing him decline, Ling Fengyao shrugged, took another swig, and laughed. "So what's the plan? We can't just wander forever, right? Even us jianghu types need a destination."

An Yi was silent for a moment, then glanced sideways at him. "Didn't you ask me to come?"

"Got any leads on the Youhuan Shu?" he countered.

Ling Fengyao re-hung the gourd and spread his hands. "Needle in a haystack. But when a treasure manual like this shows up, something always slips out. Let's just wander and test our luck. Better than moldering on that mountain."

"Hmm... Xunyang City has pretty nice views."

He turned to An Yi, eyes bright in the moonlight. "How about it? First stop, Xunyang City?"

An Yi nodded with a smile. "Sure."

"Deal!"

Ling Fengyao was in great spirits. He glanced at the sky. "We shouldn't hang around here. Let's find a place to crash and head out tomorrow."

An Yi: ...

Then why the hell did we leave in the middle of the night?!

Ling Fengyao led the way out of the woods. An Yi followed a step behind in silence.

The night was deep, and the forest path was dark and hard to navigate.

Ling Fengyao seemed totally at home, striding briskly. After a while, he slowed down to walk beside An Yi.

They were both silent for a time, only the sound of footsteps and the rustling wind through the leaves.

"Speaking of,"

Ling Fengyao said, his voice cutting through the quiet. "Now that we're traveling together, it's too awkward and risky to keep calling you 'Young Master' and me 'young hero.'"

He turned to look at An Yi's cool profile lit by the moon. "Mind if I call you Ayi?"

An Yi didn't even slow down or look at him. "We're not that close."

Ling Fengyao: ...

Cold.

He sighed in mock hurt. "Don't be so stiff. We're jianghu folk, we don't stand on ceremony. We're traveling together—why so aloof?!"

An Yi: ...

He gave a faint smile—so brief it was like a ripple on water—then it was gone. "Fine, as you wish."

Ling Fengyao smiled, as if given the go-ahead, and obligingly called out, "Ayi."

His voice was clear and bright, the name rolled off his tongue with a lingering tenderness that dissolved into the night breeze.

An Yi did not reply, like he hadn't heard a thing.

Ling Fengyao didn't care. He cheerfully went on, "Then don't call me 'Young Hero Ling' anymore—it sounds awkward. Just call me Fengyao."

This time, An Yi finally glanced sideways at him. He’d never actually called him "Young Hero Ling" anyway. Still, he didn’t correct him, and just said the name flatly: "Fengyao?"

The two syllables, cool and flat, made the tip of Ling Fengyao's ear twitch almost imperceptibly, as if he'd heard the most delightful note.

He answered instinctively, "Yeah?"