Chapter Sixty-Nine: Seize the Bloom While It Lasts

The White Hole Academy and the Skywalker Academy, realizing their inferiority, no longer pressed the matter. With downcast hearts, they bid farewell to Dean Chen and prepared to leave. All was finally settled.

Before departing, Yi Ningyuan asked Yu Lang, “I heard you’ve seen Li Bi recently. Just how strong is he now?” Seven years ago, when Li Bi defeated the three Sword Masters of the Sword Pavilion, he was only thirteen and at the Upper Profound Realm, yet managed to overcome three Unmanifested Masters in succession, one of whom was Yi Ningyuan’s own father. Now, seven years on, Yi Ningyuan had no idea to what heights Li Bi had since risen.

Yu Lang forced a wry smile. “He can send a remnant shadow a thousand miles and sever the Profound with a single leaf. He’s already far stronger than the Sword Saint was at his age.”

Yi Ningyuan stared blankly, the fire in his eyes gradually dimming—his heart had clearly suffered a heavy blow.

Yu Lang clapped him on the shoulder in “encouragement.” “Don’t take it too hard. Besides, he’s never even considered you his rival.”

Instructor Zhang nearly spat blood. He had expected Yu Lang to offer a few kind words, not such a masterclass in mockery.

Yet Yi Ningyuan seemed suddenly enlightened. His gaze cleared, and he cupped his fists, saying, “Thank you for the guidance, Brother Lang. If I fixate only on Li Bi’s footsteps, I’ll never surpass him. Only by looking to a broader world might I find a sliver of chance.”

Yu Lang smiled. “You’re not stupid after all. Until we meet again.”

Later generations often spoke of Yu Lang’s ability to turn stone to gold. Of the Four Talents of the Tianbao Era—Wu Songru, Yi Ningyuan, and Li Chun—three soared only after receiving his guidance.

In the southwest corner of the small drill ground was Lang Battalion’s base. The group gathered around Yu Lang and recounted the events of recent days.

Xue Wenyang joked that Yu Lang always arrived at the very last moment to turn the tide whenever the Xiyue Academy faced a crisis, always stealing the limelight.

Yu Lang could only respond with an awkward laugh, saying it was more luck than timing.

After some banter, the conversation returned to more serious matters.

Zhang Chengxing, still indignant, gave a detailed account of how Huangfu Weiming had been dismissive of their senior brothers and even tried to keep Yu Lang’s Grindstone Blade for himself.

Li Dahu, blessed with an excellent memory, repeated word for word what Li Guangbi had said about Dean Chen that day for Yu Lang’s benefit.

Yu Lang pondered for a moment. “I fear this is not as simple as it seems. Huangfu Weiming must have a deeper purpose. The more cold and unkind a man, the more likely he is to maintain appearances—yet he didn’t even bother with that.”

Xue Wenyang’s eyes lit up. “Of course, appearances are for others to see.”

Li Dahu concluded, “So, Huangfu Weiming is deliberately distancing himself from Xiyue Academy. Either our Academy is doomed and he fears being implicated, or he himself is in danger and doesn’t want to drag us down with him.”

Yu Lang analyzed further. “Indeed, and given how he’s also been snubbing the other commanders from the Longyou faction, it’s likely he wants to sever ties with old allies there too. So, it’s he himself who’s about to face trouble.”

Zhang Chengxing was unconvinced. “Nonsense. He’s the Crown Prince’s favorite now—they’re practically sharing a bed. He’s at the height of his career; how could he be in danger?”

But halfway through his retort, Zhang Chengxing’s expression changed as if struck by a sudden realization. Emperor Xuanzong despised collusion between palace officials and border generals. The closer the Crown Prince and Huangfu Weiming became, the greater Huangfu’s peril. After all, Emperor Taizong had seized the throne through a military coup, killing his own brothers and forcing his father to abdicate—the lessons of history were too fresh to ignore.

Xie Zhiqian sincerely admired Yu Lang. He said little, only helping the group work through the events, letting everyone draw their own conclusions.

Xue Wenyang voiced his doubts. “If Brother Huangfu knows he’s courting disaster, why accept the Crown Prince’s overtures? He could just consolidate power in Longyou and no one in court would dare touch him.”

“Who, having studied the sages, would aspire to carve up the land and harbor treasonous thoughts? Long-term control of troops would force his hand—if not rebellion, then the appearance of it. Since he has no such intent, he must enter Chang’an and declare his loyalty. Even knowing it’s a deadly mire, he has no choice.”

If, thousands of miles away, Huangfu Weiming knew that among the students of Xiyue Academy there was one who so keenly understood his predicament, he’d likely seek Yu Lang out for a night of heavy drinking and forge a lifelong bond.

As for Dean Chen Wuning, Yu Lang said little and refused to discuss the matter. He merely warned everyone not to take Li Guangbi’s words as gospel, for there might be more to the story. Based on his own three years with his master, Chen Wuning was not the cold, heartless man who would cut off a woman’s head to placate Li Longji, nor would he have harmed the former dean. Yet, as these were only Yu Lang’s personal feelings, without evidence, he kept them to himself.

Before they parted, Yu Lang noticed Zhang Chengxing looking bashful, while others nudged and teased him.

Such a burly man wearing that expression could only mean one thing: a woman. And since all eyes turned to Yu Lang, it was clearly related to him. Even without being told, Yu Lang guessed that Zhang Chengxing and Huang Ying were now together.

Yu Lang was genuinely pleased. His absence had evidently given their relationship room to blossom. “Congratulations to you both.”

Zhang Chengxing blinked, realizing Yu Lang had guessed the truth. He grinned sheepishly. “The wedding’s set for the fifteenth of next month. Brother Lang, you must come celebrate with us!”

Yu Lang was surprised. He’d expected their feelings to blossom, but not for marriage to come so soon. Still, time had passed and they had all grown from naïve youths into men—some things could not be delayed any longer. Yu Lang laughed heartily. “Don’t worry. The wedding gift will be a generous one.”

Only then did the group disperse, laughing and joking. They’d expected some drama but Yu Lang handled it so simply. In truth, the rumor of Huang Ying and Yu Lang was a joke started by Instructor Huang himself. Everyone knew Yu Lang’s heart belonged only to Qingqing—there had never been, nor could there ever be, anyone else. Even his brothers in Lang Battalion would not accept otherwise, for they had witnessed the hardships Yu Lang and Qingqing had overcome together.

Suddenly, Ning Xiaoyu’s smile flashed across Yu Lang’s mind, leaving a bitter taste in his heart.

Finding a moment to herself, Qingqing tugged Yu Lang’s sleeve. “Let’s go home for a while. It’s been ages since we ate at home. I told Obaba to buy some good wine and dishes for your return.”

Yu Lang noticed Qingqing had grown thinner, her chin sharper than before—she must have suffered as well. He hastily agreed. He’d returned in such a rush this time, he hadn’t even brought a gift for her, and felt quite guilty.

Seeing him agree, Qingqing smiled and went ahead to prepare dinner.

Upon his return, it was customary for Yu Lang to pay his respects to his master, Chen Wuning.

He entered the side hall of the council chamber—a place he’d visited countless times over the past three years. Though the furnishings remained unchanged, after half a year away, everything felt a little unfamiliar.

Chen Wuning, as always, prepared two cups of tea.

“Master, are you injured?”

Chen Wuning’s hand froze as he lifted the cup. “How did you notice?”

“You raised the cup an inch lower than usual.”

“Sharp eyes. Have you always observed your master so closely? Yes, I’m a bit injured.”

“Actually, I wasn’t sure. I just took a guess. Who would be so bored as to remember how high you raise your cup? I only realized you didn’t intervene when Li Chun was captured by Kudozha—either you were wary, or you were hurt.”

Chen Wuning laughed heartily. “Life is always lively with you around.”

But as the subject shifted, his expression grew somber. “Someone came to Xiyue Academy to kill Yang Yuhuan. A formidable cultivator. I was wounded in the attempt.”

“For someone to injure you at Xiyue Academy, they must be among the world’s finest.”

“Perhaps once, but not anymore. That person is no longer among the living—I killed him.”

Chen Wuning spoke lightly, but Yu Lang knew it must have been a deadly battle.

Chen Wuning sighed deeply. “Sometimes, I must admit to aging. Ten years ago, I could have slain such a foe without injury. Now, I can withstand the first wave, but may not survive the second. Yang Yuhuan must eventually return to Chang’an.”

Yu Lang, quick of mind, caught his meaning. “You wish me to escort Yang Yuhuan to Chang’an.”

Chen Wuning nodded approvingly. “Yangzhou has become too small for you. The sea is vast for fish to leap, the sky high for birds to fly. Only in the capital can a great roc like you truly spread your wings.”

“When shall I set out?” Yu Lang could sense the Grindstone Blade heading north towards Chang’an. He’d intended to go there himself, so he didn’t object.

“After you’ve drunk Zhang Chengxing’s wedding wine. No—wait until after the New Year. Before you leave, I’ll help you forge your Dao Seal. Once that’s done and you’ve stabilized the Profound Realm, few among the young generation will be your match. Only then will I be at ease.”

“Thank you, Master!” To help forge a Dao Seal was far more arduous than simply infusing one; Chen Wuning’s promise was a debt of immense gratitude.

“No need for thanks—you’re my last disciple, and you avenged your senior brother Hu Can for me, fulfilling an old wish. If anything, I owe you. Go on now. I must recover from my injuries, or I won’t have the strength to aid you with your Dao Seal.”

As Yu Lang paused outside the council chamber, he noticed the garden’s flowers in splendid bloom this year.

Blooming flowers are meant to be plucked.