Chapter 18

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Baiyun Peak lies in the southwestern part of the Man Kingdom, connected with a range of undulating mountains that stretch continuously. This mountain range forms a straight line from the south to Man City: Man City to the north, the southern border to the south, and Lin River to the east. Its position is both lofty and solid. The mountain is renowned for its plum blossoms. As early spring arrives, the entire mountain becomes blanketed in blooming plum flowers, turning into a sea of red and pink—an extraordinarily beautiful sight. Not only are the plum trees abundant, but the mountain is also densely forested with lush vegetation and thriving flora. In the drought-prone Man Kingdom, where people often dare not venture, the vegetation never fails to flourish.

Atop this peak is the foremost sect in the martial world—the Baiyun Peak Sect. Although it is the number one sect in the martial arts community, its history spans only a century, which pales in comparison to the Deng Family Sect’s seven centuries of legacy. The history of Baiyun Peak begins with its founder, Wu Qianjun.

Two hundred years ago, during a time of peace and prosperity, the martial arts world saw the emergence of two unparalleled geniuses: Chen Shimin and Wu Qianjun. Back then, these two were the stabilizing pillars of the martial world, safeguarding a century of peace. Chen Shimin, a master of the sword, comprehended all sword techniques and created the "Turning Back from the Sea of Suffering." Wu Qianjun, a bare-handed expert, mastered all martial arts and developed the "Ten Thousand Dusts Return Palm."

Initially, they were friends but their bond shattered when both fell in love with Jiang Ling’er, a famed beauty of the martial world. Chen Shimin was the heir to the Deng Family Sect’s sword techniques—the largest sect for a hundred years—while Wu Qianjun was a wandering martial artist. To compete for the title of the number one sect and to win Jiang Ling’er’s heart, Wu Qianjun single-handedly founded the bare-handed sect on Baiyun Peak— the Baiyun Peak Sect. After Chen Shimin’s death, Baiyun Peak rose to become the foremost sect in the world.

One day later:

The grand selection at Baiyun Peak is underway. This year, young martial artists from across the lands have gathered to compete. Since its establishment, Baiyun Peak has maintained a rule: anyone who passes the competition is immediately inducted into the sect, guaranteed food and clothing, and can learn the most powerful palm technique, the "Ten Thousand Dusts Return Palm."

Today, the sounds of combat echo continuously across Baiyun Peak. Even before reaching the summit, fights have already broken out. As the saying goes, when the weak confront the strong, they can only win through numbers. Thus, before reaching the peak, it’s wise not to reveal one’s true abilities; otherwise, those weaker will unite to eliminate you halfway up the mountain.

Within the tall forest on the mountain, a man in a flowing coat darts swiftly. His long hair streams behind him, his movements agile and swift, with countless deft techniques. The sturdy tree trunks beneath him tremble as if they were mere seesaws. Wherever he passes, plum petals drift in the air. The martial artists vying for the sect’s selection can only marvel at his profound skill. It is no wonder he displays such prowess.

Qin Zhaotian leads a group of over ten martial artists up the mountain. As they travel, Qin Zhaotian’s sharp senses immediately detect something amiss.

“Stop! Stay alert and watch your surroundings!” he orders sternly.

The group halts, their vigilance heightened. Qin Zhaotian grips the hilt of his sword tightly, eyes fixed intently on the dense forest ahead, prepared for battle at any moment. Soon, a man in a flowing coat appears from the shadows. Once Qin Zhaotian recognizes him, he signals the group to lower their guard—the newcomer is Sanqing Feng.

Sanqing Feng lands lightly and laughs upon seeing Qin Zhaotian. “Brother Qin, no wonder you’re the most trusted by the Second Prince Zhong. You dare bring so many capable disciples along!”

Qin Zhaotian replies calmly, “Why not keep an eye on that girl?”

Sanqing Feng shakes his head in lament. “My father values that girl’s life more than I do. There’s no way he’d let me bring her to Baiyun Peak.”

Qin Zhaotian’s expression grows grave. “You’ve spent a month with that girl. If you don’t eliminate her and instead inform us, do you think we could kill her in front of the Sanqiu Blades?”

Sanqing Feng smiles faintly. “If I could kill her, I wouldn’t need to find you. Besides, my goal isn’t to kill her but to prevent that technique from resurfacing.” He steps closer and whispers, “If that old man obtains that technique and masters the complete Ten Thousand Dusts Return Palm, you’ll lose a stabilizing pillar.”

Qin Zhaotian glares at his cunning face. “The Second Prince Zhong only ordered me to kill the girl. That technique is your matter alone.”

Sanqing Feng turns away with a hearty laugh. “Don’t worry! I have my own plan.”

Below Baiyun Peak:

Lin He and Ma Chen have arrived at the foot of Baiyun Peak. They dismount their horses as the morning weather is splendid, with a clear sky. Lin He notices that Baiyun Peak is unlike what he had imagined—the mountain is covered with blooming pink plum blossoms, and the entire range is lush with vegetation, a rare sight on their journey.

Ma Chen adjusts the reins of his horse. “Brother Lin, this mountain path is thick with trees. We’ll have to proceed on foot for this stretch.”

Lin He nods. “The mountain is so high. Can we make it in time?”

Ma Chen smiles. “Rest assured, Brother Lin. I’ve traversed this path six or seven times. Even if we’re a bit late, it won’t affect anything.”

Lin He laughs, “Brother, no matter how you guide me, I’ll follow without fail.” Had Ma Chen not taken a wrong turn earlier, they might have reached the mountain’s foot last night. They joke as they begin their ascent.

Along the mountain path, Ma Chen, a native of the Lu Kingdom, shares with Lin He the legendary story of Baiyun Peak:

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“In the history of the martial world, only two have reached the pinnacle of martial arts—Chen Shimin and Wu Qianjun. They were once closest friends, but their bond was shattered over a girl, the very mother of Baiyun Peak—Jiang Ling’er.”

By this point, Ma Chen’s tone turns gossipy. “Why was Baiyun Peak established? It is said Jiang Ling’er loved Chen Shimin. Wu Qianjun founded the Baiyun Peak Sect to win her heart. Why name the sect after the mountain? Because Wu Qianjun and Jiang Ling’er first met right here.” Ma Chen recounts the tale with passion and vividness, glancing at Lin He to gauge his reaction.

For Lin He, this is his first time hearing the story, but he finds it rather dull and doesn’t know how to respond. Ma Chen notices and laughs, “Could it be you have no one you love, Brother Lin?”

Lin He smiles awkwardly. “I met a few I liked at school when I was young, but I never dared to speak up.”

Ma Chen continues, “It was because of Jiang Ling’er that Wu Qianjun built Baiyun Peak into the top martial sect. Upon learning this, Jiang Ling’er was deeply moved by his determination, and they became a couple.”

He pauses, then adds, “People honor them as the ‘Twin Peaks of Love and Clouds.’” Ma Chen chuckles, “Later, Chen Shimin established an unbreakable rule in the Deng Family Sect: disciples must not fall in love. But after his death, the Deng Family declined, losing its former glory as the number one sect.”

Lin He listens thoughtfully and reflects, “Even though the Sword Saint Chen Shimin was hailed as the greatest martial artist, he was powerless over many things.”

Ma Chen is puzzled. He told the love story of Wu Qianjun and Jiang Ling’er, but Lin He’s takeaway centers on Chen Shimin alone. Seeing Ma Chen silent, Lin He smiles wryly, “Is my understanding different from yours, Brother Ma?”

Ma Chen shakes his head regretfully. “It’s a pity about that unrivaled sword technique. Even if it still exists, the Deng Family no longer has anyone to reach the peak.”

They pass through the dense woods and mount their horses, galloping swiftly toward the summit. The horse is truly a fine steed, racing effortlessly up the mountain path.

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