Ever since obtaining the follow-up techniques of the Seven Forms of Flowing Water and information on the White Lotus Sect from Rong Ku, Li Qing's plan to leave the capital was set.
But there was no rush.
Li Qing had only just stepped into the Xiantian stage. He still needed to study the Xiantian-level techniques in the Martial Pavilion, practice them, and stabilize his cultivation stage.
Day to day, he delivered meals and made small talk as usual.
For a Xiantian master to empty night pots, that was beneath him now. Li Qing had already assigned the task to a young eunuch.
In the blink of an eye, two years passed, and it was now the thirteenth year of Jianwu.
Under the command of the Northern Garrison King, the Western Expedition Army had swept forward like a raging fire over the past two years, pushing to the very doorstep of the Khala Kingdom's capital. Victory reports kept pouring into the capital.
If not for the deep desert in Khala's heartland and the army's logistical problems, the Khala capital would have fallen long ago.
Yet in the midst of these victories, Great Qian itself was not at peace.
Of its nineteen provinces, six saw uprisings, neither small nor large, that were swiftly put down but still shook the imperial court.
The people seethed with resentment, and the officials dared not speak.
In such times, it became common at night for peak masters of the Eight Vessels to bring people into the Cold Palace to meet with Empress Yan.
On the night of the eighth day of the eighth month, three figures descended into the Cold Palace. Li Qing was startled awake from his sleep.
It's getting more and more frequent. Empress Yan really doesn't see me as a person at all. She just keeps treating me like I'm not even here.
The palace is about to change soon; it's probably the right time for me to leave the capital…
At dawn the next day, Li Qing packed his valuables, mounted his white horse, and rode out of the city.
…
The green mountains were full of charm, the scenery breathtaking.
In the forty-seven years since he'd been confined to the Secluded Palace, this was the first time Li Qing had stepped into the Jianghu.
At first, he felt uneasy. But when he saw a second-tier master in the greenwood roaming for justice, wiping out bandit strongholds with a single sword stroke and winning the praise of the common folk, his heart began to settle.
If even a second-tier masters could roam the Jianghu with sword in hand, what about him, a Xiantian grandmaster?
Then one night he came across an old man, frail as a chicken, sleeping in a deserted temple. After regaling him with tales of wild spirits in the mountains, the old fellow drifted off to snore like a bull. Li Qing's mind finally opened completely.
He galloped freely along the road, sometimes singing aloud in secluded forests. Bandits, spotting him from afar, dared not approach. They only whispered among themselves, "That's a Daoist master. Don't provoke him."
He traveled with the dust of the mortal world as his companion, the mountain wind as his partner.
When he happened upon great heroes debating swordsmanship, Li Qing was happy to stand by as an onlooker.
Once, he even displayed his exquisite lightness skill before a crowd, stunning a young martial artist so much that the youth chased him for a hundred miles, begging to become his disciple.
Li Qing tossed him a lightness skill manual without a second thought, then spurred his horse and rode off.
After fifteen days of riding from the capital, Li Qing entered Yuanzhou.
Two days later, he arrived at the gates of the Wuliang Temple.
Wuliang Temple was the sect of Ming Wei. Her master, the Daoist Priestess Shengyue, had once been sentenced to death by the late Grand Empress Dowager. Before her death, she left behind a life maxim: "The highest virtue is like water. Water nourishes all things but does not compete."
In two lifetimes, Li Qing had forgotten many people, but never Ming Wei.
He had once traded a pot of Drunken Spring wine for Ming Wei's Seven Forms of Flowing Water and information. Though they were never master and disciple, there was still the bond of passing on a legacy.
Back then, when Ming Wei had died, Li Qing had cursed the late Grand Empress Dowager for seven years straight. Thinking back now, he felt it had simply been the right thing to do.
At the temple gates, Li Qing released his Xiantian true qi. The essence of Soft Water radiated through his body, shaking even the statues of Wuliang Temple.
An elderly Daoist priestess, clutching her horsetail whisk, hurriedly flew out. She seemed about to bow, her voice trembling. "May I ask which honored Xiantian grandmaster has come to our temple? Forgive us for failing to greet you from afar. My heart is greatly unsettled."
Li Qing used his true qi to gently support her knees. "Who are you?" he asked. "Do you know Ming Wei? How many people are in the temple now?"
The priestess froze for a moment, then quickly replied, "I am Daoist San'nan, current head of Wuliang Temple. Ming Wei was my junior martial sister. Our late master died in the imperial palace of Great Qian. Over forty years ago, my sister entered the palace to avenge her, but she met with disaster. As for the temple now, there are only three disciples left."
Only three disciples in all of Wuliang Temple. Li Qing was taken aback.
Yet the Daoist priestess before him was no weakling. She had reached the peak of the Five Vessels.
At the peak of the Five Vessels, one could stand as the head of a great sect.
But then, remembering Ming Wei's attempt to assassinate the late Grand Empress Dowager, Li Qing had to admit that Wuliang Temple's decline was no surprise.
"I came from the capital," Li Qing said. "I was fortunate enough to learn the Seven Forms of Flowing Water passed down by Ming Wei and broke through to the Xiantian realm. I came here hoping to find the follow-up Xiantian techniques of your sect."
"So that's what it is."
Daoist San'nan let out a breath of relief. "Since you've trained in the Seven Forms of Flowing Water, you can be considered half a disciple of Wuliang. The follow-up Xiantian techniques are well preserved in the temple. I will fetch them for you at once."
The two of them walked together into Wuliang Temple.
Wuliang was vast, with seven courtyards in all; each one the size of the Cold Palace itself.
Fallen leaves covered the ground. Li Qing couldn't help but ask, "Why not have some ordinary folk sweep the courtyards?"
"Master," Daoist San'nan replied cautiously, "the leaves are swept by my three disciples. It counts as part of their training. It's still early now. By evening, the courtyards will be clean."
As they entered another courtyard, Li Qing saw a little girl of about ten using her faint internal energy to sweep up the leaves with a broom.
He looked at her closely. "And who is this?"
"This is my youngest disciple," San'nan said. "She's nine this year. Her surname is Ming, given name Ying. She's the granddaughter of Ming Wei's younger brother. Her natural talent is good, so I took her in."
Descendant of Ming Wei's family… No wonder she has a bit of Ming Wei's look about her, Li Qing thought.
When Ming Ying saw the two approach, she gently set down her broom, bowed respectfully, and said softly, "Master."
She was so well-behaved and endearing that Li Qing couldn't help but take a liking to her.
Before long, Daoist San'nan returned with the follow-up to the Seven Forms of Flowing Water. This technique was called the Soft Water Art.
The Soft Water Art only described a single form, but to train it one needed rivers, lakes, or the sea. Not just a small water jar.
Fortunately, Wuliang Temple had a cold pool perfectly suited for cultivating the Soft Water Art.
"I'll need to stay at the temple for a while, I'm afraid," Li Qing said after flipping through the manual.
After breaking through to the Xiantian stage, one's cultivation progressed quickly at first. This was a time not to be wasted, for the further one went, the slower the pace became. And as the years passed, one's strength could even begin to decline.
"You honor us, Master. Wuliang Temple is humbled by your presence," Daoist San'nan answered softly.
"I'm a man who always repays a debt," Li Qing said. "Now that I've taken your sect's techniques, tell me, do you have any wish?"
"I wouldn't dare, I wouldn't dare," Daoist San'nan replied at once. Even if she had a wish, she would never voice it before an Xiantian grandmaster.
Li Qing shook his head, then took out two Xiantian lightness skill manuals and offered them as payment.
He then called for the girl named Ming Ying.
"Does your sect still keep anything that once belonged to Ming Wei?" Li Qing asked.
San'nan hesitated, then removed the blue jade pendant from around Ming Ying's neck. "This pendant was left by my junior sister Ming Wei. After Ying'er joined the sect, I gave it to her."
Li Qing nodded, drew the pendant toward him with a pull of true qi, and carved the word Wei into it.
"This jade pendant is to be passed down only within the Ming family," he said.
San'nan accepted it with a puzzled look, not understanding his intent.
In truth, the carving was to leave behind a bond.
No matter how many centuries passed, if Li Qing saw this jade pendant, he would recognize it at once.
Cultivation was about bonds and destiny.
If the mortal world truly had reincarnation, and Ming Wei was one day reborn into the Ming family, then if fate allowed, this jade pendant would surely end up in her hands.
And with it as the link, Li Qing would find Ming Wei's new life, guide her into the immortal path, and repay the bond they once shared.
Of course, if the mortal world had no reincarnation, or if Ming Wei's fate held no connection to him, then all of this would amount to nothing more than empty talk.
Where the heart leads, there is cultivation.
After that, Li Qing went to the cold pool behind Wuliang Temple and took up residence there to cultivate.
…
Autumn passed, then winter came. Three years slipped by.
Ming Ying had grown to twelve.
One day, she quietly went to her senior sister and asked, "Senior Sister, that scary strange man who went into the cold pool three years ago… he's not dead, is he?"
Her senior sister scolded her. "What strange man? That's an Xiantian grandmaster! Remember, never speak carelessly!"
"Oh." Ming Ying stuck out her tongue. "Let's go take a look then. We can bring him some food, just in case he really did die in there."
"True enough," the senior sister agreed.
The two of them prepared a large basket of food and went to the cold pool, only to find no trace of a person inside, not even the faintest breath of life.
Seeing no one, Ming Ying said at once, "The strange man really did drown…"
But her senior sister let out a breath of relief. "The Xiantian grandmaster has left."