Chapter 27: Swordplay on the Ferry Boat, Strange Tales on the River

Description

Faced with Bai Ling and Gu Yun’s unyielding deterrence, the townsfolk eventually backed off, cursing under their breath.

It was precisely then that the winds over the river suddenly swelled, and massive waves swept the loose stones from the shore into the water.

With the crowd dispersed, only Bai Ling, who had finally let out a sigh of relief, and Gu Yun, who was calmly sheathing his sword while staying vigilant, remained on the damp riverside.

Neither of them noticed, however, that Bai Chengwan, bound to the stone pillar, now had a somewhat vacant stare.

He was looking toward Bai Ling’s side—the direction where her inner demon had dissipated.

Nothing remained there now, save for a few wisps of black smoke not yet fully vanished.

A glimmer of light suddenly sparked in Bai Chengwan’s eyes, as if he had unearthed something from the deepest recesses of his memory, but it quickly dimmed again, eventually sinking back into murkiness.

What followed was a surge of searing pain and dizziness.

Because a stone hurled during the earlier clash had already left a bloody gash across his temple.

The wound on his forehead had its flesh turned outward, its shape eerily resembling a saber scar, lending him a wordless air of weathered sorrow alongside his disheveled hair.

Bai Ling hastily turned to untie her father’s ropes, and the moment she saw that wound, her heart clenched tight.

Familiar… too familiar! That scar, weathered yet carrying eight parts of dignity, she felt she had seen it somewhere before.

But her mind was a complete blank, as if shrouded by thick fog, and she simply could not recall it.

“Father… does it hurt? Bear with it.”

“Ling’er… Father doesn’t hurt, not at all.”

Bai Chengwan was already bleeding profusely from the head—even Gu Yun, looking at the wound that nearly reached his eye, could imagine how agonizing it must be for a middle-aged mortal.

Yet Bai Chengwan only kept soothing Bai Ling, eyes lowered, letting her support him.

As if his daughter’s heartache were his greatest pain of all.

Moments later, the Ferryman approached, paddle in hand.

In his grip, the paddle moved with the precision of a sword being wielded—more like an unsheathed blade than a mere oar.

He glanced at the three of them, then looked toward the pleasure boat at the river’s heart, his voice hoarse:

“My sincerest apologies—the Yuning Pavilion has brought trouble upon you three. Our master wishes to invite you aboard for a talk, to make amends.”

Bai Ling, supporting Bai Chengwan, exchanged a glance with Gu Yun.

Gu Yun’s face remained expressionless, his eyes betraying nothing, but he gave a slight nod.

Bai Ling helped her injured father up, wanting to dress his wound, and said softly, “Father, let us board the boat first.”

The three then followed the Ferryman onto the small skiff.

The skiff rocked upon the river, the waves far more turbulent than usual, thudding against the hull and giving one the sensation of riding the wind and splitting the waves.

Bai Ling watched the Ferryman row, his motions rising and falling with a certain rhythm like the hum of a sword, as though a supreme master of the mortal sword path were performing his art here.

Having fully grasped the true essence of the sword within the Opening and Closing Qi Control Art, the words slipped out of her:

“You’re… using sword intent to ferry the boat?”

The moment she spoke, she froze herself.

Sword intent? How did she know that term?

The Ferryman did not turn around, his voice carried off by the river wind, bearing a loneliness like the ancient cold of snowy mountains: “To sail against the current requires great perseverance. The tides of the world surge like a flood, and our swords must naturally cut upstream. Even when the great river comes roaring down, it must be split apart by a single stroke.”

Gu Yun, seated at the stern with his sword in his arms, suddenly spoke: “The sword path is also the Dao. The Dao arises from nothing, and from three, all things are born. A sword born from nothing—that is the sword of our kind.”

With that, both the Ferryman and Gu Yun turned their gazes to Bai Ling simultaneously.

Their looks carried a probing, or perhaps… a certain expectation.

Bai Ling met their eyes with calm composure, her steady demeanor nothing like that of a mortal girl, and the words tumbled out:

“A sword is a tool; swordsmanship is the craft of killing. I do not cultivate the sword—I cultivate only the heart.”

As her words fell, the river fell silent for a moment.

Only the creaking of the paddle cutting through water remained, once, then again.

The Ferryman kept rowing, saying nothing.

Gu Yun looked away toward the river’s surface, the faint light in his eyes dying out.

Perhaps it was disappointment—he likely found her insight too plain and unadorned, hardly worthy of the sword path.

Yet Bai Ling cared nothing for it.

She cultivated her heart, which was cultivating the sword—why should she mind what others thought?

She touched her waist.

On the surface, nothing was there, but she knew well that an invisible sword, one only she could grasp, rested at that spot.

The second-floor hall of the pleasure boat blazed with lamplight, yet carried an indescribable chill of emptiness.

Bai Ling seated her father on a soft cushion and lowered her head to carefully dress the wound on his forehead.

When her fingertips touched that saber-like gash, Bai Chengwan suddenly shuddered, as if something had struck the deepest well of his pain.

But before Bai Ling could ask about her father’s condition, she looked up to see a gorgeously dressed woman carrying an ancient zither, walking slowly from behind a folding screen.

A veil covered half her face, and the brows and eyes revealed were stunningly beautiful, yet cold and desolate as the waters of the Yuning River in deep winter.

The scent of ink about her was faint, yet it inexplicably struck Bai Ling as pungent.

Bai Ling did not know her, but at first sight, an unnameable, inexplicable hatred surged up from the soles of her feet.

This nameless resentment made her instinctively tighten her grip on the cloth strip in her hand.

The courtesan Liu Pianpian caught sight of Bai Ling and halted mid-step, then instinctively touched her lower belly.

She looked at Bai Ling, her eyes likewise hiding confusion and hatred—very faint, yet utterly impossible to dissolve.

The two faced each other, neither recognizing the other, yet something deep within their bodies recognized its counterpart first.

But just then, the river’s waves suddenly began to churn without end.

This surge was far more ferocious than the earlier currents—a colossal upheaval stirred by something far greater lurking beneath.

The boat pitched violently, and Bai Ling nearly toppled over, barely steadying herself by grabbing the edge of a table.

Cups and saucers clattered to the floor, the sharp crack of shattering porcelain ringing from every direction, while screams and furious shouts erupted from the lower deck.

Streaks of fish-shaped black mist burst forth from the water, slamming into the hull with the dull thuds of a water ghost drilling through the boat—more like countless fingernails scraping across the wooden planks.

“Changing the breath through zither music only relieves things temporarily—it seems the moment of overflowing qi has finally come…”

Liu Pianpian, clutching her ancient zither, likewise leaned against a table with difficulty, revealing the truth behind her nightly playing.

Bai Ling shielded her father behind her in one motion, Gu Yun’s sword sang as it left its sheath with a clear, ringing note, and the Ferryman gripped his paddle tight, like a sharp blade poised to strike at any moment.

The black mist over the river grew ever thicker, the starlight dimmed, and it enclosed the pleasure boat like a shroud.

Within the fog, a pair of scarlet eyes glimmered faintly, and then a jet-black giant fish, large enough to rival the pleasure boat itself, leaped into the air and hurtled straight toward the vessel.

If the giant fish struck head-on, the pleasure boat would unquestionably shatter into pieces on the spot and sink to the riverbed.

At this critical moment, a sea-blue figure rose abruptly from the river’s surface.

The waters parted beneath her feet, as if cleaved apart by an invisible sword blade.

She was a woman clad in a sea-blue long robe, wielding a sword-lance, half her face hidden beneath her bangs, her long hair whipping wildly in the dim starlight with the river wind.

Hovering above the gunwale, she pressed a finger toward the river’s surface and cried out in a low voice: “On the attack… like fire!”

In the next instant, the waters of the entire Yuning River seemed to transform into azure liquid flames burning fiercely, and then sparks swiftly condensed into countless crystal-clear fluid-fire swords, their edges shredding toward the fish-shaped black mist.

At the same time, the woman raised her sword-lance horizontally before her and called out again in a soft voice: “Its speed… like the wind!”

The blade trembled violently, merging in an instant with the black night and river wind, transforming into an enormous black gale of sword light that came crashing down directly upon that pitch-black giant fish.

Shwing!

A single stroke! That terrifying fish, whose battle power rivaled that of a celestial immortal, was split clean in two and perished on the spot.

The woman descended slowly into the hall of the upper floor, planting her sword-lance into the floor with a thud, and the surging waves on the river were instantly suppressed by an overwhelming force, gradually calming.

She swept her gaze across the three of them, letting it linger on Bai Ling a moment longer, carrying something like scrutiny, or perhaps… a kind of weighing:

“Unflinching in the face of danger—you are all quite impressive. No wonder you are awakened ones who successfully contended with the cave heaven’s restrictions in the inner trial, truly different from those mediocre talents still lost in the illusions.”

She paused, her gaze going vacant for an instant before recovering:

“This sovereign… hmm… is the master of this pleasure boat. You may call this sovereign Master Cangjie.”

Master Cangjie?! This stunningly elegant woman was actually the master of the cave heaven, Master Cangjie!

Everyone was taken aback, including the Ferryman and the courtesan Liu Pianpian.

But amid their shock, a grey sparrow—visible to none but Bai Ling—silently crossed the night, alighting upon her shoulder.

Just as Bai Ling was about to reveal an incredulous expression, the sparrow spoke first, its voice reaching straight to her heart lake:

“Little Baiyao, you are still half-awake and half-dreaming, but this old man suggests you best pretend this old man doesn’t exist, and do not fully awaken either.

For you, hiding your heart is hiding your sword.

In this cave heaven, your gains will be far greater than those of the others.”

“Senior Cave Spirit, is that woman truly the master of this cave heaven, Master Cangjie?”

Baiyao asked through her heart lake.

“Genuine, no counterfeit. But… this old man feels that some things are best witnessed with your own eyes to the very end—that suits you better.”