Volume One: The Dragon Rises from the Wild Chapter Sixty-Nine: A Mere Mortal Disciple

Inside the cave.

The candles had burned down to nothing.

The three sticks of incense had long since gone out as well.

Darkness reclaimed the surroundings.

In the silence, someone paced about, inspecting the area; someone else sat alone, silently guarding the spirit tablet before him.

Bai Zhi was not one to speak unnecessarily. But when she did, her words were precise, pointed, and left no room for rebuttal or doubt. Now that Yu Ye no longer spoke harshly or tried to drive her away, she, too, returned to her usual self—a beautiful, reserved, and composed disciple of the Daoist sect.

And what could Yu Ye do?

Once she appeared and knelt to pay her respects before the spirit tablet, such an act alone spoke of sentiment, loyalty, and decorum. Even if his heart was full of anger, he could not utter a single word. On the contrary, he was obliged to offer his thanks according to the mountain’s customs.

Moreover, he owed her a debt—a debt of life for her selfless rescue!

All Yu Ye could do was shut his mouth and dutifully keep watch over the extinguished candles and the spirit tablet.

Though his father's remains were lost, the departed soul still needed to be honored. This was the duty of a son, and the true reason he had returned to Spirit Serpent Valley. As for the saying, "rise again where you have fallen," he hadn’t thought that far.

But now the candles were out, the soul departed.

It was time to leave.

Yu Ye picked up the spirit tablet before him.

“Why not leave the tablet here and come every year to offer your respects and fulfill your filial duty?” Bai Zhi approached at just the right moment, her tone that of a caring elder sister.

“Better than annual rites, when I die, I’ll take my father’s tablet and bury it with my mother, so our family can finally be together,” Yu Ye replied, stowing the tablet into his iron storage ring and slowly rising with half a jar of wine in hand. His voice neither mournful nor sorrowful, but possessed a rare tranquility.

“You’re not arranging your affairs before death, are you?” Bai Zhi smiled, her eyes falling on the iron ring on his finger.

He nodded with subtle meaning. “It would be my wish, but I fear it may end with my corpse left to rot in the wild.”

“You’re still young. Such despair doesn’t suit you,” Bai Zhi shook her head with a smile. “Very well, if you die and I live, I’ll see your wish fulfilled.”

“Do you mean it?” Yu Ye looked at her.

“My word is my bond,” Bai Zhi replied carelessly.

Yu Ye raised the wine jar and drank deeply, letting the wine spill and drench him in reckless abandon. He tossed the jar aside with a loud clatter, exhaling a fiery breath.

“Well done, you drink like a true man!” Bai Zhi applauded.

Yu Ye choked on the last mouthful, coughing violently, adding a touch of awkwardness to his bearing.

Bai Zhi’s eyes sparkled with laughter.

Without another word, Yu Ye rolled his eyes and turned away.

“Where are you going?” Bai Zhi watched him head for the crack in the rocks, intending to retrace his steps.

“Choosing not to take the proper path, you’d rather slip into a snake pit. Are you trying to be unconventional, or do you have a penchant for such things?” she teased.

Yu Ye stopped.

“There’s another way out. Come with me,” Bai Zhi beckoned, spinning gracefully ahead, her ease and poise like that of a carefree maiden dancing through the gloom.

Yu Ye scratched his head and followed her.

He knew there was another exit; he just wanted to leave alone. The more he tried to avoid others, the more flustered he became. He had suffered too much, become cautious and suspicious—ever fearful of repeating old mistakes and inviting new misfortune.

But endless avoidance was worse than facing things head-on.

After passing through another opening and descending for some distance—about thirty fathoms—a vast cavern opened before them. Jagged rocks formed natural walls and trenches, imposing and awe-inspiring. A small underground river flowed ceaselessly, its waters whispering through the stone.

Following Bai Zhi, Yu Ye reached a shadowy corner.

“I didn’t come here just to find you. Look—” she gestured toward another hidden entrance.

It was a secret cave.

Inside, a few feet above the ground, rested a block of white jade, atop which lay a rotting animal pelt. Beside the jade were Bai Zhi’s bundle and longsword.

Clearly, someone had once lived here. Perhaps the very skeleton they’d found last year—the master of the Serpent Pearl—a cultivator from across the seas.

The bundle and sword must have been Bai Zhi’s, left for safekeeping.

“Last year, I came here with Dustrise, but he had already swept away the remains of the overseas master and all traces of his existence. I searched alone, found this cave by chance, but in my haste, discovered nothing at the time,” Bai Zhi explained.

She took a luminous pearl from her robe and set it atop the jade. Its glow illuminated the stone, turning the darkness bright as midday. Gesturing, she said, “Today I arrived ahead of you, to meet you here—”

Yu Ye cut in hastily, “Let’s be clear, I didn’t come here for you. I—”

Bai Zhi smiled, lips pressed together. “You’ve seen the remains of the overseas master and obtained the serpent pearl and his legacy—your knowledge must run deep.”

“My cultivation does not come from that master,” Yu Ye answered.

“Oh?”

“Just say what you mean. What do you want?”

“This must be the overseas master’s hermitage. The previous cave was likely his serpent pit. Why not search around? You might yet find something of value.”

Yu Ye nodded.

So Bai Zhi was also seeking the origins of the overseas cultivator.

The cave was only a few paces wide—his spiritual sense swept through, finding nothing unusual. Only the block of white jade stood out.

“This is fine jade, a treasure in mortal eyes,” Bai Zhi remarked.

“I’m a mortal myself,” Yu Ye replied.

“If you’re just a commoner, then all Daoist disciples must be mere tradesmen.”

“Isn’t that so?”

“…,” Bai Zhi, usually quick-witted and eloquent, found herself at a loss when faced with the boy’s unaffected candor—a nature as pure and kind as the wilderness, with a wild, untamable edge. Given time, he would grow into a man of upright spirit, immune to all evil’s temptation.

Yu Ye jumped onto the stone, kicking aside the decayed pelt.

Bai Zhi also stepped up to examine the jade.

Yu Ye crouched to take a closer look, wiping away the grime left by the pelt, revealing faint markings on the smooth stone. Though blurred, two characters could be made out.

“Heaven’s Secret?” Bai Zhi asked in surprise. “Did the master carve these on purpose, or was it accidental? And what do they mean? Is it ‘heaven’s secrets are unfathomable,’ ‘heaven’s secrets must not be revealed,’ or something else entirely?”

Yu Ye was not surprised by the words. The jade token among Old Seven Feng’s possessions bore the same inscription, as did the broken sword and white cloth left by Uncle Qiu. Clearly, Uncle Qiu and the master here both hailed from overseas. Old Seven Feng’s jade token, perhaps looted from a tomb, was likely also tied to these foreign cultivators.

But Yu Ye’s speculation went no further; Bai Zhi’s deductions were more far-reaching.

“I’ve searched many times here and found nothing. Yet you noticed the clue at a glance. No wonder fate favors you—you are truly extraordinary,” Bai Zhi praised.

“Ah… Just luck,” Yu Ye replied, unaccustomed to praise. As he straightened, a faint fragrance brushed his face.

Bai Zhi was still bent over examining the stone. Suddenly, they found themselves face to face, their eyes meeting. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and annoyance. “You little rascal, mind your manners!”

Yu Ye hurriedly backed away, confused. “You almost bumped into me—how is that my fault?”

“I am your senior,” Bai Zhi retorted, chin raised, ready to invoke the rules of their order, but seeing the boy’s guileless face, she couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

She jumped down, gathered the luminous pearl, bundle, and sword, and headed out of the cave, calling over her shoulder with a smile, “It’s getting late. Let’s go!”

They left the cave, following the underground river for a while until they emerged into a mountain valley.

By now, dusk had fallen.

The rising moon cast a hazy glow across the land.

Yu Ye, unfamiliar with the way, could only follow Bai Zhi through tangled rocks and wild woods.

“This is Tiger Leaping Gorge. There’s still some way to go before we leave Spirit Serpent Valley. Night is falling, and beasts are on the prowl. We’d best find a place to rest for the night,” Bai Zhi suggested.

“No! My mount cannot be left unattended.”

“And where is your mount now?”

“At the entrance to Spirit Serpent Valley.”

“How could you leave it there? This isn’t the winter hunt—there aren’t many people around…”

“I didn’t expect to be delayed so long. You seem to have no such worries…”

“Yu Ye, you overestimate me. You think I could keep up with you on foot? I have my own mount, left outside the valley—”

“I’m not your junior, don’t call me that…”

“No manners…”

Arguing as they hurried along, the bickering resumed after only a few steps.

Ahead lay a ridge.

Crossing it would bring them to a valley, then out of Tiger Leaping Gorge. Once free of the gorge, leaving Spirit Serpent Valley would be easy.

Though carrying a bundle and sword, Bai Zhi’s movements were light and swift as the wind. Yu Ye, not to be outdone, covered three or four yards per stride, skimming over the ground to keep pace at her side.

In a flash, they topped the ridge.

Bai Zhi’s competitive spirit flared; she meant to leave Yu Ye behind.

Whatever her true nature, she was, after all, a young woman barely past twenty. In time, even she had begun to show her girlish side around this simpleminded boy.

But before she could crest the ridge, someone seized her arm. Off guard, she stumbled, about to struggle and shout, when a firm hand pressed her down and a hurried whisper came to her ear—

“Quiet, someone’s here!”

Pinned in the grass, Bai Zhi was both angry and embarrassed, but she forced herself to watch intently.

Beneath the uncertain moonlight, a valley of several miles spread before them. In its center, a broad basin stretched out, and at the far end, four figures stood on a slope. Though their faces were unclear, their furtive movements marked them as ill-intentioned.

Chagrined, Bai Zhi silently blamed herself. Her competitiveness had made her careless of the distant commotion. Luckily, Yu Ye had warned her in time, or the consequences could have been dire.

She glanced at him. His young face remained calm and stern.

Softly, she whispered, “You know how to transmit messages by spiritual sense? Who taught you that?”

“Nobody. Self-taught… ah—” Yu Ye, still watching the valley, suddenly remembered and released her arm, apologizing, “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine,” Bai Zhi didn’t blame him. Instead, she stayed close beside him in the grass. “Your cultivation is average, but your alertness far surpasses most.”

Yu Ye relaxed. “I grew up hunting. Without some skill, the wolves would have eaten me long ago…”

Just then, a mountain wind carried snatches of conversation from the distance—

“This is Tiger Leaping Gorge in Spirit Serpent Valley…”

“According to Dustrise, the overseas master fell here, though where exactly we do not know…”

“He left a map. We’ll follow it and see…”