Chapter 35: The Xuanhe Sect (Second Update)
Before long, Kong Yan returned with clear water and clean clothes. At Su Mo’s request, he placed them before the temple gate and then departed to summon someone to deal with the body of the Red-Robed Guardian.
The dilapidated temple was filled with dust and cobwebs. After changing into the clean garments, Mu Bai sat cross-legged on a meditation cushion that Su Mo had cleared, employing the Green Lotus Valley’s qi-circulation mantra to dispel the poison that had seeped into his meridians.
Su Mo fixed his gaze on him and said slowly, “The evil art cultivated by this Red-Robed Guardian refines one’s own blood into poison. Its effects begin with numbness and stabbing pain, followed by disorientation and alternating chills and fever… culminating in union.”
Mu Bai opened his eyes: “Hehuan?”
“Yes, those tainted by her poisonous blood suffer stiff and numb limbs, piercing pain all over that cannot be relieved by scratching, feeling as if plunged into an ice cellar yet burned by raging fire, ultimately dying with their bodies consumed from within—truly exceedingly cruel.” Su Mo calculated with his fingers. “Come to think of it, you have been poisoned for a quarter of an hour already.”
Mu Bai assessed the changes in his body. The earlier symptoms were still present but gradually subsiding; as for the final one, there was no sign of it.
“Xiao Bai, if you’re in pain, tell me. Don’t endure it alone.”
Mu Bai shook her head, closed her eyes, and focused her mind to circulate her qi, thinking of nothing else.
After about half an hour, people began to trickle in from outside; presumably, disciples of the Pianyu Temple had arrived to collect the bodies.
Su Mo pushed the door open and stepped out, reminding them not to touch the blood of the woman in red.
The nuns covered her with five or six layers of hemp cloth before carrying her away.
A while later, Kongyan arrived with two junior disciples to express their gratitude.
Seeing Mu Bai’s pallid complexion, they were deeply worried and gathered around Su Mo, asking, “How is the young hero faring?”
The little monk said, “Let us go down the mountain to fetch a physician for an examination.”
Kong Yan said, “It’s no use. This young master mentioned that the woman is a Dharma Protector of the Red Lotus Sect; ordinary physicians cannot cure this poison. The only ones in the jianghu who might… are likely from the Green Lotus Valley.”
Kong Yuan rubbed his bald head: “The Green Lotus Valley is far away in Jialan. By the time we fetch someone from there, I’m afraid this young hero will have turned to ash.”
Su Mo spoke softly, “No matter. He can antidote this poison himself.”
After a pause, he added, “I’ll stay here and keep watch. You all may return first.”
The three monks exchanged glances, realizing that their chatter here would disturb Mu Bai. After casting two worried looks at him, they departed.
It was not until nightfall that Mu Bai finally opened his eyes. His complexion remained pale, but the symptoms of poisoning within his body had greatly subsided; his vision no longer doubled, and he could move freely once more.
Now fully lucid, Mu Bai suddenly slapped his forehead as an important matter occurred to him: “I forgot to bring them food.”
Su Mo, seeing him just emerge from meditation and immediately leap up muttering, “Oh no, oh no,” watched as he dashed out of the Taoist temple.
Unsure of what was happening, he had no choice but to chase after.
The mountain path was pitch black; fortunately, disciples from Pianyu Temple on patrol lent them a lantern, preventing them from stumbling blindly down the mountain.
The poison within Mu Bai’s body had not yet been fully purged. After combining lightness skills with a frantic run, by the time he reached the village entrance, his clothes were soaked through with sweat, clinging wetly to his skin.
A quick glance revealed a faint light emanating from the low house, its door standing wide open.
Has the old man returned?
Mu Bai stood bewildered for a moment, then steeled himself and stepped inside. Sure enough, the white-haired elder stood with his hands clasped behind his back, stirring a pot of congee over the stove.
A large pot—likely meant for those hidden in the underground cave.
Without turning around, the old man said, “Come in. What are you doing standing at the doorway?”
“Old man, cooking dinner?” Mu Bai smiled with an awkward yet polite expression, leaning toward the stove. “Shall I lend you a hand?”
Su Mo followed him inside, silently pulling up a stool and sitting down at the table.
“Slice me some ginger.”
Upon hearing this, Mu Bai immediately responded with eager compliance: “Yes, big brother… no, I mean, sir.”
The old man smiled without warmth: “Yesterday, when you swung your sword at me, your tone wasn’t like this.”
Mu Bai blinked, softening his voice: “It was all a misunderstanding. I was wrong, sir.”
“Hmph.” The old man stirred the large ladle, then glanced up to see Su Mo sitting leisurely nearby and barked, “Just watching the show? Come over and help.”
Mu Bai froze, turning to look at Su Mo.
Su Mo also looked startled, but he still stood up and walked to the stove, asking, “What do you need me to do?”
“Crack two eggs.”
“Good.”
Mu Bai stood aside, watching the prince, whose hands had never known labor, attempt to crack eggs. For every one he managed to crack, half would spill, leaving his hands covered in egg white.
As for the old man, he watched them both bustling about as his assistants with perfect ease, his expression utterly calm.
Your grandpa is still your grandpa.
A quarter of an hour later, Mu Bai descended into the underground cave, fed each person inside some porridge and clean water, then climbed back up the rope ladder.
Halfway up, I heard two people talking outside.
“That little girl named Tinglan from Pianyu Temple used to come see me every time she descended the mountain. I hadn’t seen her lately, so I thought I’d go up to check…” the elder said. “But instead, two red-feathered parrots flew down, landed on my shoulders, and kept crying for help.”
Based on Mu Bai’s observations, the people confined in the Taoist temple must have had their mouths sealed. Moreover, even a parrot could not have learned to cry “Help!” in such a short time; it was likely that the bird had been with the woman in red for some while and had picked up the phrase from previous victims.
Come to think of it, this old man can also summon birds; could he, like Su Mo, be from the Xuanhe Sect?
At this age, within the Xuanhe Sect… there was only one person Mu Bai could think of.
Could it really be?
Clinging to the rope ladder, he peeked out from the underground tunnel with just his eyes, seeing the two speakers seated on wooden benches inside the room.
The tunnel space was narrow, filled with the sound of breathing; while Mu Bai’s movements went unnoticed by those outside, he could clearly hear Su Mo speaking with the old man.
“I followed them to the Taoist temple, found these people, and rescued them. Later, I discovered that every single one of them had been poisoned. It was a real trouble for me; the wine cellar I had dug out was left covered in blood by them.”
Su Mo said, “That young hero in white robes just now…”
“Oh, that lad. He arrived two days ago with three monks, saying they intended to head up the mountain to Pianyu Temple, and stopped here to rest.”
The old man explained that among those he had rescued, most were men who had lodged at Pianyu Temple and had all fallen victim to the Hehuan poison. Therefore, he had added several medicinal herbs to the chicken soup, which possessed the efficacy of counteracting and neutralizing the Hehuan toxin, something ordinary people would never detect.
Mu Bai suddenly realized why Su Mo had said the woman in red carried the Hehuan poison in her blood, yet he himself had not shown any corresponding symptoms.
This old man was truly formidable; a remedy to counteract the Hehuan poison, one not even recorded in the scriptures of Qinglian Valley, he somehow knew of it.
The old man continued, “That ungrateful brat repaid kindness with hostility, pointing his sword at me. I didn’t hold it against him and even chased after him for two li…”
Mu Bai: “…”
“Speaking of which, he wields a sword, yet his lightness skill and movement techniques bear traces of the Xuanhe Sect. Why is that?”
Su Mo replied, “I taught him.”
The old man glared at him, “Who gave you permission to transmit our sect’s arts to an outsider?”
Su Mo said softly, “Not an outsider, but the one I love.”
The old man gazed at him, fell silent for a long while, then asked, “My disciple’s wife?”
Su Mo smiled. “Yes. I had planned to choose an auspicious day to bring him to meet you, but it seems you’ve already met.”
“Oh…” The old man stroked his grizzled beard twice. “Though somewhat impulsive, he is a good person at heart, and quite handsome in appearance.”
“Not bad, I am very satisfied with you, my disciple.”
Mu Bai: “…”
It’s utterly absurd.
–
The next day, disciples of Pianyu Temple found the real Abbess Tingyu in a dried-up well within an abandoned Taoist temple.
Though unable to conceal her sorrow, Tingyue still escorted Mu Bai and the others down to the foot of the mountain.
The three monks from Konggu Temple, fearing that Mu Bai’s body was still weak from the poison and could not endure the day-and-night journey to Baihe Station, pooled their money to hire a carriage, which now waited at the village entrance.
As Mu Bai settled into the carriage and lifted the curtain, she saw Elder White Crane standing by the roadside with his hands clasped behind his back, wearing a kindly smile reminiscent of a mother-in-law meeting her son-in-law for the first time.
Su Mo sat down beside him and said softly, “Don’t worry. My master will take good care of them. In a couple of days, the lingering poison in those people will be almost completely cleared.”
Mu Bai replied, “That’s not what I’m worried about.”
“Then what are you worried about?”
Mu Bai shook his head, only waving goodbye to the elderly man through the window as the carriage began to move forward.
The gray-haired figure stood at the village entrance, watching them depart until they vanished from sight.
The carriage moved forward slowly. Mu Bai sat closely beside Su Mo, while the three monks chatted on the opposite side.
Suddenly, Kong Yan turned and asked Su Mo, “Young Master, I noticed you used a fan yesterday. Could it be that you studied under the Xuanhe Sect?”
Su Mo raised his eyes to look at him and gave a faint nod.
The Xuanhe Sect is renowned far and wide, yet nestled deep within the mountains, it maintains a low profile much like the Green Lotus Valley. Apart from major gatherings such as the Martial Arts Assembly, its members rarely make appearances. Even in the eyes of the other two great sects of the Wuti Kingdom, they remain shrouded in mystery.
Numerous legends about the Xuanhe Sect circulate throughout the jianghu, but the truth behind these tales can only be discerned upon encountering actual disciples of the sect.
Su Mo instantly became a treasured presence in the eyes of the three young monks.
The youngest monk’s eyes lit up; he scurried over, tugging at Su Mo’s sleeve, and asked, “Brother, brother! I’ve heard that everyone from the Xuanhe Sect can speak the language of birds—is that true?”
Su Mo: “…”