"AH…"
Many of the older members of the group couldn't bear the thought of any whiff of impropriety between a student and teacher. They covered their mouths with their sleeves and scowled.
"What a travesty!"
The lady cultivator cupped her tea in her hands and spoke without raising her head. "At the time it surprised me; I found it bizarre. But both of them were such well-known zongshi. I didn't dare presume anything untoward was going on between them. In hindsight though, there really was something off."
She paused before continuing. "And someone already mentioned the other thing—what Shi Mei said before he was taken away. His words were vague; I only thought they were a little strange and didn't dwell on it. But thinking back on it now, he probably meant Mo Ran once had feelings for him, but later, Mo Ran had a change of heart and fell in love with Chu Wanning."
Everyone fell silent. Many details they'd overlooked before suddenly stood out starkly.
"Were you all there when Mo Ran was taken from Tianyin Pavilion?" someone said softly. "When Chu Wanning was holding him, I think I saw him kiss him on the forehead."
The more scandalous the detail, the more curious people were about it. "Ah!" someone else exclaimed. "Wait, who kissed who?"
Scratching his head, the first speaker answered, "Chu Wanning kissed Mo Ran."
Silence.
"None of you saw it?"
One by one, the others shook their heads. The speaker threw up his hands. "Fine, pretend I didn't say anything. Maybe I was just seeing things."
But pretend I didn't say anything was a useless admonition, having the same effect as I'm not sure if I should be telling you this—once the words were out in the world, could they really be taken back? The cultivators' scorn compounded. If a master and disciple were romantically involved, it might be slightly more tolerable if the disciple had been the one to take the lead. If the master was the instigator, such an affair was grossly taboo. It would be natural to conclude that the teacher in question had the worst kind of intentions, and no honor to speak of.
These sorts of private debates and conjectures weren't limited to this abandoned temple. As the two foremost suspects behind the recent turmoil, the subject of Mo Ran and Chu Wanning quickly became a hot topic of conversation across the land. As the saying went, bad news traveled a thousand miles before good news made it out the door. Talk of a pious student and a kind teacher was the sort of thing to put people to sleep, but rumors of an illicit affair between a disciple and his master? That would draw all the eyes around the dinner table to the loudmouth in their midst. Although there were many who doubted the rumors and plenty who didn't approve of such talk, this salacious piece of gossip spread far and wide.
In no time, all sorts of speculations arose. Some said Mo Ran had slept his way to the top, that Xue Meng and Chu Wanning were also involved, that Shi Mei and Chu Wanning had probably done it too, and so on and so forth, until the originally pristine Beidou Immortal became a dirty old man who lived to take advantage of the handsome youngsters under his tutelage.
It had always been the case that the court of public opinion could bury the truth, and that the tongue was often sharper than the sword.
"Just look at his disciples—aren't all three of them way too handsome? I can't think of a single innocent reason for it."
"When Mo Ran first joined the sect, Chu Wanning didn't want to take him as his disciple, right? My friend in Sisheng Peak told me after Mo Ran spent the night in the Red Lotus Pavilion, Chu Wanning changed his mind. Why? Well now we know! Clearly Mo Ran was just that good in bed."
Each titillating detail made listeners itch to jump in with their own opinions.
"Hadn't Mo Ran just barely come of age at that point? Chu Wanning really has no scruples, huh."
"Now I understand why that girl was beaten half to death for peeping at him in the bath back then. She probably saw something she wasn't supposed to!"
After a few suggestive moments of silence, a local ruffian chimed in with a roguish grin. "Hey, I just want to know what you guys think—when they're in bed together, who's on top, and who's on the bottom?"
"I think Mo Ran's gotta be on the bottom. Everyone knows Chu Wanning's temper. That man's so arrogant—he'd never ask his disciple to fuck him."
"When you put it like that, you have to feel a bit sorry for Mo Ran. Forced into bed with a disagreeable hard-ass who's so much older than him, and not even that attractive—I bet it makes his skin crawl."
"Ah…"
But another kind of chatter traveled even faster. As the days wore on, several Zhenlong chess pieces began to be identified. All of them were disciples from Sisheng Peak.
A mere one or two clues could be chalked up to coincidence. But every single piece of evidence now pointed squarely to Sisheng Peak. No matter how unimpeachable its reputation had once been, the sect inevitably became the target of public condemnation. Panic ensued.
Over several days, people came to Sisheng Peak in an attempt to get answers, but all were turned away at the gates. "Xue-zhangmen isn't here. Come back in a few days if it's important."
"Where is Xue Zhengyong?"
Hearing the visitor use the sect leader's given name with such impunity, the little disciple at the gate lost his temper. "Since the moment the trouble began, my sect leader's been running around day and night, doing everything in his power to subdue those pawns! Wherever people are suffering, that's where he is—find him yourself!"
The visitor, who'd only come to pick a fight, sneered. "Subduing pawns? Looks to me like he's busy controlling them—he and those vermin Mo Ran and Chu Wanning are all in this together."
"Don't be absurd!"
"Absurd?" said the visitor. "Mo Ran cultivated forbidden techniques, and Chu Wanning stole him from Tianyin Pavilion. Before that, Xue Zhengyong was begging them to let Mo Ran off, and Zhenlong pawns made out of Sisheng Peak disciples have been popping up everywhere. Only an idiot would believe your sect is blameless!"
Later, Xue Zhengyong listened to reports of these errant troublemakers with a weary sigh. "Those who are truly innocent don't need to defend themselves. Considering the state of things, it'll be a blessing just to finish the work that's been cut out for me. Don't pay them any mind—just send them away."
Yet on this day, more people had come to the gates than usual. This time they'd brought several bodies with them, demanding Sisheng Peak pay the price for their deaths.
It was late at night by the time Xue Zhengyong returned home, covered in blood and injuries. He listened to Madam Wang's tale while washing the dirt from his face, then took a deep breath, pondering in silence.
"We can't let things go on like this," said Madam Wang. "I wonder if we should go to Tianyin Pavilion and ask for assistance…"
"Ask Tianyin Pavilion?" Xue Zhengyong narrowed his eyes in scorn. A long scratch ran down his cheek, the work of an undead corpse. "There's something shady about Tianyin Pavilion. That Mu Yanli stands there like an empty-headed Buddha sculpture—good for absolutely nothing!"
Madam Wang clapped her hand over his mouth. "Don't say things like that."
Xue Zhengyong blinked at her.
"I know you're upset." Madam Wang sighed, moving her hand to his cheek. "But what can we do? They're the descendants of heaven, an ancient order established by the gods—they've always been mighty. Even during the crisis of King Ping three hundred years ago, no one dared to question them. What power do you have to change this?"
Xue Zhengyong's eyes flashed with anger. He looked as if he had something to say but was biting it back. In the end, he tossed away the towel he was using to clean his wounds and walked over to the window, where he stood with his hands folded behind him, gazing at the sickle moon outside.
At long last, he spoke in a hoarse voice. "Do you think Ran-er is doing okay?"
Gathering her long skirts, Madam Wang came to stand beside him. "Husband…"
Moonlight spilled over Xue Zhengyong's face. He seemed so weary, even aged, without his usual smile. "Even though he's not my brother's real son, even though he killed my nephew, all these years… You know what I mean? All these years, I thought of him as… I…"
"I know. You don't have to say any more—I know." Madam Wang's eyes stung too. "I feel the same."
Xue Zhengyong buried his face in his hands, scrubbing mournfully. Suddenly, he doubled over and began coughing as if he couldn't stop. When he finally brought his hand away from his mouth, it was red with blood.
Madam Wang looked at him in horror. "How did you get hurt so badly? Quick, lie down and let me take a look."
"There's not much to see." Xue Zhengyong wiped the blood from his lips with a handkerchief. "Just a minor internal injury. I'll be fine in a few days."
"Don't leave the house tomorrow. Look at all the other sect leaders—which of them insists on doing everything themselves?"
Xue Zhengyong's face twisted in an attempt at a smile, but he was so exhausted it sagged again after only a second. "We still don't know where Ran-er and Yuheng are, and there's been trouble all over the cultivation realm. Nine people died just at the foot of the mountain the other day, in Wuchang Town. You want to keep me home now, of all times?"
Madam Wang gazed at him with those beautiful eyes. Xue Zhengyong patted her head. "You know me. There's no way I can stay cooped up here."
"But surely you should take a day off at least." Madam Wang bit her lip. "You've just coughed up blood—you can't ignore this injury. Have you forgotten how your brother met his end?"
The last, valiant hint of a smile vanished from Xue Zhengyong's face. He glimpsed a faint, liquid glimmer beneath Madam Wang's lowered lashes, and his heart twinged. "Don't…don't cry… You know me, I'll be right as rain in no time. Ah, all right, I'll stay in the sect tomorrow. I won't go anywhere, okay? I'll rest a whole day before I leave again—how about that?"
"I won't force you," Madam Wang said, voice thick with tears. "I can't make you listen to me anyway. You can go wherever you'd like."
"How could I?" Xue Zhengyong forced out a bitter laugh. "There now, don't worry. Look, how many years has it been—haven't I weathered all these storms just fine? Trust me, I'll be good as new, I just need a little time."
Xue Zhengyong was true to his word: He didn't leave the gates the next day. But neither did he remain idle. He went to the library to think, considering their present predicament from every angle.
"Sect Leader, the young master has prepared some medicine for you. Drink it while it's hot."
"You can put it down here, thanks," Xue Zhengyong said absently. He was deep in thought and not in the mood to get up and leave. He worked well into the afternoon. Only when his injured ribs began to ache did he remember to slowly drink the medicine, which had long gone cold.
As he left the library, Xue Zhengyong turned to the disciple guarding the door, "Where are my wifey and Xue Meng?"
"The young master just returned from the foot of the mountain. The madam is lighting incense and praying at the temple. Shall I call them over?"
Xue Zhengyong had wanted to rest a moment and talk with them. But before he could reply, the world spun around him. He really was getting old—he couldn't recover from an injury with just a good night's sleep like he had in his twenties. Even he had no choice but to submit to time's passage.
"That's all right, don't bother them." Xue Zhengyong managed a smile through the ache. "I'll go sit in the meditation room for a while. Come get me if anything comes up."
"Yes, Sect Leader."
Xue Zhengyong clapped the disciple on the shoulder. His mood was bleak; he'd seen far too much strife lately. Looking at this little disciple before him, he couldn't help an internal sigh—how precious were these flourishing days of youth. In his mind, there was no higher goal than bettering the days of these youngsters.
"All right, I'm off. Would you mind organizing the books I—"
Before he could complete the request, another disciple rushed into the library. The instant they caught sight of Xue Zhengyong, they knelt, looking deeply stricken. "Sect Leader! Something's wrong!" the messenger cried.
The commotion made Xue Zhengyong's ribs ache even more. Damn it, I should've really let Tanlang treat this sooner. His face paled slightly, but he pushed through the pain and asked, "What's all this about?"
"All the sects of the upper cultivation realm have arrived in front of Loyalty Hall," the anxious disciple replied. "Including their leader, Guyueye."
Xue Zhengyong's heart hammered in his chest. Though he had an inkling what this was about, still he muttered, "What could they all be doing here?"
"They said there's too much evidence implicating Sisheng Peak. They can't stand by and watch any longer, so they came personally to ask the sect leader for an explanation." The disciple was growing increasingly agitated, on the verge of tears. "Sect Leader, they all came together. I'm afraid they want to disband the sect."
Xue Zhengyong's face went ashen. Clenching his jaw, he tapped the acupoints on his ribs. "They wouldn't know the truth if it hit them in the face. What a bunch of bullies."
He turned to the disciple watching over the library. "Don't tell my wife about this just yet. I don't want to worry her."
"Yes, Sect Leader."
Xue Zhengyong helped the trembling messenger disciple up from the floor. His voice was grave. "Come with me to the front hall."