Chapter 41: Charcoal Black, Fire Red, Ash Like Snow; Grain Yellow, Rice White, Steamed Rice Like Frost (Part Two)
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Gu Yi defeated the chief talent of the Immortal Cultivation Academy.
This news at Yu Zhen Pavilion was met with the usual—eating and drinking as always. Yet within the academy gates, it was as if a calamity of biblical proportions had befallen them.
Chen Mingguang and Wu Gang were spared punishment, but became subjects of whispered gossip among the other students.
Fan Ling, struck unconscious by the final sword, and the sword technique “Sunward Flower Bloom” had now been etched into memory—this was the doing of the Seventeenth Floor Master.
Deep in the mountains, beside two peach trees and a mountain brook, stood a simple wooden hut.
The stone path before the hut was clean—no fallen leaves, not a speck of dust. Suspended in the air was a screen of spiritual light.
Its frame shimmered faintly with greenish aura, and within the screen replayed the scene of Gu Yi’s borrowed-flower sword strike.
“Swordmaster, do you know of a sword technique that borrows the sword from a flower?” a voice asked.
“The Golden Flower Cat always brings surprises with every word. I never expected it could record moments past,” the Swordmaster replied, eyes narrowing on the scene. “Is he… truly worthy of the Floor Master’s concern?”
“The emperor sealed off Little Court Mountain for reasons you and I both know. Should a foreign nation invade and you do not unsheathe your sword, only I could respond—thus, I must emerge from seclusion. And with nothing better to do, and now that Luyang has welcomed so… peculiar a fellow, I cannot help but be interested.”
“Then let me answer plainly: I have never seen this sword technique before. The world is vast and sword techniques are myriad. Though I am Swordmaster, I would not claim mastery of all. That said, Luyang Academy stands supreme in the land—we do not stoop to petty theft or trickery. Besides, the sword is the heart’s own; better to hone oneself than covet another’s craft.”
“You understand this well, Swordmaster—how could I not?” The Floor Master pointed a tiny hand at the screen. “Swordmaster, have you looked closely?”
“Hm?” The Swordmaster’s brow furrowed, suspicion flickering in his gaze.
A moment later,
the tone shifted.
“How is it that he so effortlessly draws upon the energy of heaven and earth for his own use?”
“That is precisely the strange part. Cultivation begins with sensing the world’s spiritual energy. You, Swordmaster, were the greatest genius of Luyang Academy—you could summon spiritual energy to your palm at first awakening, illuminating the vast city. But could you then use that borrowed energy to fight an enemy?”
Heaven’s gifts are hidden in this world.
Yet not everyone can perceive them.
Even among those who can, the sensitivity varies.
Cultivation’s path is to guide energy into the body, strengthening oneself and storing it within—a reservoir built by human will from the world’s formless power.
The body is the vessel.
And at the moment of casting, one draws from it.
When the energy is spent, strength fails—and then, truly, fate decides life or death, wealth or poverty.
“I see. If I am not mistaken, that is how he overcame Fan Ling.”
“Indeed. He himself had only just entered meditation. But the energy of flowers, fish, trees, river—all were drawn into his hand, and so he won. Moreover, he knew precisely what he was doing—he even prepared flowers before the fight.”
The Swordmaster shook his head repeatedly. “If you cannot comprehend it, then stop watching. Yet for one such as this, Floor Master, you must keep a close watch.”
“I understand. Once I have made things clear, I will see to it.” The Floor Master turned to leave, but after two steps, returned. “Hexian, that little imp, also knows this Gu Yi. Since returning, he’s been pondering four words said to have come from him. I cannot decipher them, so I wrote several copies. The first is for you, Swordmaster.”
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“Three men make a tiger?” The Swordmaster recited softly, “What does it mean?”
“Seventeen and the Dao Master have discussed it, yet neither could grasp its essence. I will ask others.”
“As I said, if it cannot be understood, let it be. I have little interest.”
“Oh?” The Floor Master offered a gentle reminder. “Aside from these oddities, there is something else—this is why I am truly concerned. Hexian went to Little Court Mountain seeking immortality and happened to cross paths with General Jiang and the Divine Forest Troops as they were sealing the mountain. On the way, she encountered this man. She believes he may have emerged from the Four-Stone Dragon Gate Array.”
The Swordmaster’s small hand trembled.
The immortal of Little Court Mountain had already reached the Sixth Realm, the Cloud Sage, in an astonishingly short time—a feat that astounded the mundane world.
Though none would speak of it openly,
who did not know? In secret, many had snuck out of the academy to seek an audience.
Yet not one had succeeded in entering.
“If I gain enlightenment, I will come to you, Floor Master.”
“Seventeen takes his leave.”
…
…
“The hot pot I spoke of begins by lighting a charcoal fire until it glows red. Place a large copper pot atop, or an iron one will do—this is what’s meant by ‘charcoal black, fire red, ashes like snow…’”
“Prepare clean beef and mutton, vegetables, and all kinds of ingredients. Place them into the boiling broth, and eat with rice—thus the verse, ‘grain yellow, rice white as frost…’”
Beside him, Ma Yuan could not help but drool.
Gu Yi wrote this verse for the little mistress, then explained its meaning.
She was no amateur—she understood at once. “So this is a kind of fusion—no wonder you cherish it so much. The key must lie in the broth, in how the soup base is prepared…”
“Yes, yes! It’s so pleasant, talking with someone clever. But the best part is everyone gathered around the pot, especially in winter, when it’s icy outside and you’re inside, eating hot pot and singing songs—isn’t that happiness?”
“Indeed, indeed,” Ma Yuan replied, swallowing hungrily.
“Very well, I’ll try it. You’ll be my taster.” The little mistress became serious as she spoke of dishes. “By the way, you mentioned other dishes the other day—tell me about them all.”
“Master, tell her everything!” Ma Yuan hopped impatiently.
Gu Yi wondered—would curry even be possible here?
“For now, that’s all. Another time, I’ll tell you more.”
“That’s fine. I’ll get started, so you can taste it soon.”
After she left, Gu Yi got out of bed. What was the point of convalescing? Lying around with no phone to play with would surely drive him mad with boredom.
So he got up,
only to discover he was even more bored.
Sitting with Ma Yuan on the stone steps under the eaves, chins propped in their hands, they stared vacantly at the locust tree and several potted plants in the yard. Occasionally, a cute little squirrel would dart up and down the branches.
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He wondered if it would taste good, boiled in a pot.
A life without worry for food or drink could be summed up in two words: monotonous dullness.
He could only look forward to the hot pot being ready soon.
“That whole incident with Fan Ling distracted me. Baldy, what was I supposed to be doing before?”
“Looking for Xie Yiyi.”
Gu Yi lacked any motivation. Where to look? That little scamp—just wait till I catch you!
“Let’s leave that for now. I’d also planned to visit the Academy’s Technique Hall, but that seems even less likely now.”
Ma Yuan reminded him, “Master, did you forget? You also suspected someone deliberately led Fan Ling onto Changning Street.”
Smack! Gu Yi slapped his own forehead. “Ah, if you hadn’t said it, I really would have forgotten!”
“Ow!” Ma Yuan rubbed his head, complaining, “Can’t you use your own head to express surprise next time?”
“Yours is just more convenient. Come here, I’ll show you something.”
It was a piece of paper, inscribed with a talisman that looked like a spirit tool charm.
Gu Yi said, “On my way to the Rain Hall’s back courtyard, someone handed me this. Recognize it? Never mind, you probably don’t.”
???
Ma Yuan protested, “I haven’t even had a chance to look at it yet!”
Just then, outside the Literary Pavilion, little Chong Chong with her double buns ran in, lifting her skirt, big eyes sparkling and truly a sight to behold, her voice as sweet and tender as ever, “Young master, someone’s at the front hall with an invitation for you!”
“An invitation? For me?” Gu Yi was full of questions. “From whom?”
Chong Chong glanced at him shyly. “It’s from… the Hall of Leisure.”
Hmm?
“It’s even more prestigious than the Inviting Moon Pavilion,” Ma Yuan explained helpfully.
Gu Yi took the invitation, glanced at it, and tossed it away in irritation.
Forcing a smile for the girl before him, he asked, “Chong Chong, you’re a good girl. The note says someone at Yu Zhen Pavilion has been calling me ‘Little Waist Gu.’ Tell me, who started that nickname here?”
“It was me…”
Remembering that this was a pervert obsessed with waists,
Chong Chong nervously twisted her fingers, fear already written all over her face.