Moyun Mountain’s Primordial Infant Realm Cultivator
Time seemed to go by extremely slow that day on Mount Dustfallen. There was no life despite it almost being time for the sun to turn in. The wind was dead. Nobody trained. Instead, they sat on the rocks half way up the mountain and spaced out. They hoped Feng Haochen would appear before them, play with the whiny twins and prepare supper for them. Sadly, all they saw were birds fly past.
Mu Yu hopped off a rock. “I’ll go find him.”
“No, you won’t.” Lan Ling’er grabbed Mu Yu’s arm and added, “Wait for Uncle An to come back.”
Feng Haochen said he was heading straight back to Mount Dustfallen after the tournament concluded, yet Mu Yu and Cheng Yan returned first. That was not to mention there was no news of Feng Haochen whatsoever. He was never the type to vanish without a word. There were too many coincidences for comfort. To say they were worried sick was an understatement. Usually, they wouldn’t need to worry about him, but it was a different story with the youth in red snooping around.
Xiang Nan, who was equally worried, tried to keep everyone calm. “First Brother and Uncle An should be back soon. Be patient.”
All of Dustfallen Sect was informed the youth in red was after Feng Haochen to everyone but Lan Ling’er’s astonishment.
The twins weren’t mucking around for a change. Kongkong drawing on the ground with a stick, yet staring at the sky, asked, “Miaomiao, Shifu will be fine, right?”
“For sure. Shifu is no weakling,” replied Miaomiao.
Mu Yu blamed himself for not escorting Feng Haochen back with Cheng Yan – not that he was certain the three of them could stop the youth. It would’ve been better than sitting around wondering “what if,” nonetheless.
Kongkong jumped to his feet. “First Brother is back!”
The others got up to welcome Cheng Yan back. Mu Yu inquired, “Any news?”
Cheng Yan, fatigued, shook his head. “I asked Green Pine Sect, and they told me he wasn’t there. He’s not at the academy, either. I do have bad news, though.”
Mu Yu sat back down on the rock. “What’s worse than Shifu’s disappearance?”
“Daoist Qing Song has ascended to Primordial Infant Realm. They’ll be holding a celebration in one month’s time and have sent invitations out to every sect. They also want to discuss the plan to wipe out the elemental demons at Mount Crouching Dragon.”
“Are the other sects willing to participate after their tragic losses last time?” queried Lan Ling’er.
“They can’t say no even they want to when he’s Primordial Infant Realm cultivator. Every patriarch must now bow to him, but it’s no longer out of formality. As a matter of fact, they might even have to kneel without being allowed to complained,” answered Mu Yu.
Mu Yu had no clues to start deciphering the youth’s goal in helping Daoist Qing Song ascend. He knew the cost was big, but what would be worth the cost?
Xiang Nan questioned, “What are we going to do?”
“Let’s decide after uncle An comes back. I only scoured for information in the shadows. I didn’t ask anything…”
They all knew Cheng Yan’s abrupt stop implied they wouldn’t be able to learn anything if the youth had subdued Feng Haochen. Maybe he was in Green Pine Sect’s prison? They weren’t going to break in, obviously.
“I’m going to go train.” Mu Yu flew up to the mountain.
It was sad to realise Mu Yu’s enthusiasm would be for naught no matter how much he started training. He was still a canoe, while the enemies were still a tidal wave that’d crush him effortlessly.
There was still no laughter on Mount Dustfallen in the following days. Uncle An made a trip back daily before leaving to investigate with Cheng Yan, while the others trained. The only booming news was Daoist Qing Song’s ascension.
Despite Mu Yu training at Dustfallen Precipice tirelessly, his cultivation didn’t improve. There was no way he could trick Dustfallen Mental Cultivation and convince it he wasn’t distracted. His swordplay was disoriented, as well. No amount of potential could compensate for the compulsory progress variables.
Mu Yu split his sword and cloned himself, one clone brandishing one sword. The two exchanged sword strikes, blasting spiritual qi each time they clashed and swirling the leaves of the old tree at Dustfallen Precipice. Out of the blue, a red flying sword fired a flurry of red rays at Mu Yu’s clone, driving him back.
“I want to fight,” declared Lan Ling’er, lightly landing before Mu Yu.
Lan Ling’er imbued energy into her sword, Clear Ice, turning it red and as hot as a flame quite contrarily to its name. Mu Yu split his sword again and advanced.
Using “Falling Shadow Destruction”, Lan Ling’er shot her sword clone up. Sword qi bloomed with the sword as the epicentre. Her single sword split into nine swords, shattering all of Mu Yu’s sword clones in the sky. Mu Yu pivoted around and speared his sword tip toward her. She slipped the straight attack and redirected his thrust with the tip of her sword stealthily, demonstrating power and flexibility.
Dustfallen’s nine swordplay techniques would be executed differently depending on who the wielder was. Their state of mind determined the style they espoused.
Mu Yu realised he wasn’t the only one fretting when he saw Lan Ling’er’s furrowed eyebrows. If all of them were panic-stricken, there wouldn’t be anybody they could trust to make rational decisions. Thus, he took a big breath and talked himself into calming down, reducing his clone’s vibration.
At times, one swordsman, one sword, one mind and complex swordplay could also be simplistic.
Mu Yu imbued his sword with lively green energy. Lan Ling’er poised her red sword in front of her torso and stopped Mu Yu’s strike, trapping his within her red glow. Mu Yu then launched a quick succession of sword strikes to penetrate through her red barrier and hit her with a string of strikes.
Lan Ling’er propelled herself off the ground. Mu Yu’s sword clone blew up the ground, kicking up a tornado of dust and rocks as the two disengaged. The two charged the other at the same time. Their spiritual energy reverberated throughout all of Dustfallen Precipice as the two clashed. Once the dust settled, Lan Ling’er’s sword was barely centimetres away from Mu Yu’s chest, while he had her sword at her neck.
“I’m worried about Shifu,” cried Lan Ling’er, throwing her sword down and throwing herself into Mu Yu’s arms to weep.
Mu Yu erased his sword clones and gave Lan Ling’er a hug. Though he was just as sad, he needed to stay strong if the others were going to crumble.
Lan Ling’er’s mind was a mess, while Mu Yu’s was as calm as still water.
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