Chapter 51: Return to the Sect

The starry sky was as dark as ink, with the full moon hanging high above.
On the ancient road, shrouded in silence and night, the sudden sound of hooves broke the peace.
A fine horse approached from the distance, bearing a young man in grey. He rode with focused attention, guiding his steed, while cradled in his arms was a woman dressed in white. Her eyes were closed, head resting gently against him as if asleep.
Yet the subtle twitch of her brows and the sly curve of her lips betrayed her true state.
The young man in grey was none other than Liang Yan.
With his heightened senses, he should have easily detected the woman's little movements in such a quiet environment.
But his attention was wholly elsewhere: within the sea of his consciousness, waves of agony surged, a pain as if something were slowly and relentlessly gnawing at his mind.
Gradually, the world blurred before Liang Yan’s eyes, his consciousness fading. A flash of blood-red light crossed his vision, followed by a golden gleam; red and gold alternated, threatening to shatter his very thoughts.
Finally, darkness overtook him. He slipped silently from the saddle, falling toward the earth. In the last moment before losing awareness, he seemed to hear the woman’s startled cry, and then all was lost.

...

He did not know how much time had passed before a dim sense of awareness returned, though he remained unable to move.
He felt vaguely that he was lying in a bed, with voices speaking nearby.
At first, the sound of a woman’s sobs reached him; then a man’s voice, gentle and concerned, asking after Liang Yan’s condition.
He tried to speak, but his tongue would not respond, nor would his eyelids lift. After a few futile struggles, he drifted back into sleep.

"Ah, Junior Brother Liang’s journey—who knows what he encountered to fall into such a coma,"
said a burly man in grey robes. Had Liang Yan been awake, he would have recognized this as Li Dali, his fellow menial disciple at the Chess Star Pavilion. Next to him stood a tall, thin man—Sun Qianli, another menial disciple from the formation branch.

"Liang Yan’s abilities are well-known to us. I heard he went down the mountain only to help Senior Sister Tang with some mundane task; how could he suffer such grievous injury?" Sun Qianli frowned, standing beside Liang Yan’s bed.

"I’ve no idea. Hmph! That woman seemed entirely unharmed—maybe she used our Brother Liang as cannon fodder," Li Dali said, disgruntled.

"I don’t think so,"
Sun Qianli smiled. "You weren’t here when Senior Sister Tang brought him back. You didn’t see how she wept, then specially invited an elder to treat Liang Yan. Cannon fodder, he is not—perhaps our Brother Liang played the hero and saved the beauty?"

---

Li Dali’s expression eased at this, nodding, "Whatever the case, we must keep watch over Brother Liang these next few days. His condition is strange—not immediately life-threatening, but caution is always wise."

Sun Qianli agreed, and after a few more words by Liang Yan’s bedside, they extinguished the lamp and left, closing the door behind them.

Night had deepened. With the departure of Sun and Li, Liang Yan’s room was plunged into darkness and utter silence.

Hours passed. Suddenly, the northern window creaked open, and a figure in white slipped inside, landing softly on the floor.

The lamp was relit, illuminating the visitor’s face—it was Tang Diexian.
Yet her features were wan, her eyes red and swollen, her usual ethereal grace diminished.

She walked slowly to Liang Yan’s bedside, gazing at his profile and murmuring, "Liang Yan... what happened while I was unconscious...?"

She sat beside him, lost in thought, her expression torn between hope and despair.

Just then, a sigh sounded from outside; the door opened, and a noblewoman in palace attire entered. She appeared to be in her thirties, bearing the poise and dignity of a matron.

Tang Diexian, seemingly expecting her, did not look up, only called softly, "Aunt Yu..."

The noblewoman shook her head, helpless and resigned. "Why torment yourself so? The Ancestor cares for you deeply, yet you openly defied her for the sake of an outsider boy. She’s truly angered this time."

Tang Diexian’s face betrayed rare shame, but she replied, "I know I was wrong, should not have contradicted the Ancestor. Yet she has decreed I may never again... never again seek him..."

She turned to Liang Yan, tears threatening on her lashes.

The noblewoman shook her head. "Foolish child, you possess the rare Yimu spirit body, the best for cultivating our family’s secret arts. In future, you may even form a golden core. Yet he is but a menial disciple, his spiritual roots hopelessly mixed—even building a foundation is a distant dream. You two are worlds apart. How could the Ancestor allow you together?"

Tang Diexian trembled, rising to grasp the woman’s hand and pleading, "Aunt Yu, you’ve always loved me most—could you help plead my case? I promise to train diligently, never play again, but if I cannot see him... I feel as if my soul has left me..."

Seeing her imploring eyes, glimmering with tears, the noblewoman’s heart softened. She thought, "Xian’er is still a naive girl; it’s natural she would be infatuated with a young man. Perhaps it’s best to coax her back to training—time will dull her feelings. Once she builds her foundation, this boy will long be dust, and their paths will never cross again."

With this, she stroked Tang Diexian’s hair and spoke gently,
"Liang Yan contributed much to this task; your safe return is partly thanks to him. I’ll reluctantly plead your case, but you must promise—after tonight, return to seclusion at once. You may not leave until you reach the sixth layer of Qi training. For us cultivators, advancement is paramount; if you neglect your cultivation, romance will fade like bubbles."

Tang Diexian looked at Liang Yan, silent for a long time before nodding reluctantly.

The noblewoman smiled. "Rest assured—I’ve examined him. His injuries are not severe, though his spiritual consciousness is damaged. He’s already taken three 'Restoration Pills'; with a few days’ rest, he should recover."

---

Taking Tang Diexian’s hand, the noblewoman continued, "Come now, the Ancestor’s sternness masks deep concern. Let’s return, and you must apologize."

Tang Diexian allowed herself to be led away, but before leaving, she glanced back at Liang Yan with lingering affection, then gently closed the door behind her.

...

Three days later

Liang Yan, lying in bed, slowly opened his eyes.

He looked around in confusion; discovering he was in his own cottage at the Chess Star Pavilion, he felt somewhat reassured.

But then a thought struck him, and he hastily sent his consciousness inward.

Within the "Twin Fish Array" in his body, he saw a red orb of light, wrapped in golden spiritual energy, lying quietly.

"So this red orb must be the thing that Blood Mad forced into my body—the culprit behind the collapse of my consciousness. If not for my Buddhist spiritual power automatically shielding me, who knows what might have happened?"

Thinking this, Liang Yan tried to direct his energy toward the red orb. No matter what he did, it remained immovable, unshaken.

"I refuse to believe I can’t deal with you!"

He gritted his teeth, channeling the Twin Fish Array—blue and gold spiritual energies intertwined like two swimming fish, surging toward the red orb.

Boom!

The red orb was struck, vibrating violently and sending a wave of pain through Liang Yan’s mind. Just as he was about to cry out, the sound faded.

Liang Yan took a deep breath, sweat streaming down his face. The red orb, however, appeared completely unharmed.

"What on earth is this thing!"

As he fretted, someone called outside the door,
"Wang Biao, messenger disciple from the Ritual Pavilion, is here—may I ask if Brother Liang is present?"