Chapter 6
983 Words
Princess Mingna
Within Taiyin Mountain, ice and snow sealed the heavens, birthing a world unto itself.
As Fan Xueli ventured into the depths of Taiyin Mountain, his gaze flickered sharply, already discerning dozens of medicinal herbs around him. This peak drew the essence of sun and moon, weaving strands of spiritual energy that nourished the growth of flora. Yet the biting cold of these frozen expanses was no trifling matter—few ordinary martial artists could endure it.
Those bold enough to scale the summit in search of remedies were rarer still. Legends spoke of miles upon miles of glacial ice crowning the heights, haunted by seductive fox-spirits and phantoms; a single lapse in vigilance, and death claimed you within.
Along the ascent, Fan Xueli's eyes flashed like lightning, plucking a bounty of materia medica.
With his breakthrough to the third layer of the Fleshly Body Realm, his sight had sharpened profoundly. He could now spot spiritual herbs from ten zhang away and, from afar, catch their subtle scents, distinguishing one from another with ease.
Drawing ever nearer the crest, Fan Xueli had nearly gathered every herb save the principal one: Buli Grass.
Buli Grass was devilishly elusive, thriving solely amid icy crags and snowfields. It appeared no different from common weeds, but once refined, it unfurled a lingering, crystalline fragrance, evoking a warmth of inseparable constancy.
Before long, Fan Xueli crested the summit. Abruptly, the strains of a qin drifted to his ears.
The melody surged with fierce pathos, far from the usual lilting grace—edged, even, with a whisper of killing intent. It made the ears of the little fox in Fan Xueli's arms prick up in alarm.
He noted, beneath a sheer cliff face at the peak, a maid in resplendent crimson robes, her fingers dancing over the strings in a rendition of *Lament of the Xiang Consorts*. It seemed she wielded the tune's latent menace to melt a drift of snow upon the escarpment.
Fan Xueli inhaled deeply, at once identifying the aura wafting from the snowpack: the scent of Thousand Mountains Snow Lotus, priceless to most, an inestimable treasure. Yet to him, it paled beside Buli Grass.
Not only did Buli Grass hold the power to restore souls; its properties outstripped those of the snow lotus by realms untold.
Moreover, this was merely the female variant.
The female snow lotus's efficacy fell far short of the male's.
Spotting Fan Xueli ascending alone, the maid fixed him with a glare, her features hardening. "Who goes there? Begone with you!"
Murder glinted in her eyes. With such a prize at hand, she would brook no interlopers. The youth before her clearly lagged several realms behind; her warning would suffice, she wagered, to cow him into compliance.
Fan Xueli offered a faint smile. "I am but a humble gatherer of herbs, passing through by chance. I shan't disturb your harvest, miss—pray, think nothing of it."
He gauged her cultivation a layer or two above his own. Yet with his Bone Forging attainment in the third realm of the Fleshly Body, bolstered by the lethal arts of his past life, a true clash would see her subdued in short order.
Still, he had no taste for needless strife—especially not when, in a shadowed nook of the summit, the telltale aura of Buli Grass had already caught his eye.
A shoe of iron trod to splinters, yet the prize sought without toil.
"If that's the case, stand back a hundred paces," the crimson-clad maid snapped, her gaze boring into him.
Impatience laced her tone. By her nature, she might have driven him off at once—but at this pivotal juncture, she dared not spare a sliver of attention.
Fan Xueli ignored her outright. He strode to the Buli Grass and, composing himself, carefully extracted the plant whole and unmarred, nestling it reverently into his herb basket.
Legend held that this grass coalesced from verdant jade, golden ore, insect tails, and alchemical waters in the depths of the Nine Serenities, tempered a century by the flux of yin and yang—imbued with the might to dispel all evils.
Mission accomplished!
The crimson maid, seeing him dig up what seemed an utterly mundane weed, dismissed him from her thoughts. Her fingering slowed; the music faded to a hush.
Beneath the melody's caress, the snowpack thawed by degrees, at last unveiling the snow lotus's petals. Drawn forth by the strains, the bloom even began to unfurl.
It was then, beside the melting drift, that a hand emerged—slender as lotus root, impossibly tender—and gently plucked the Thousand Mountains Snow Lotus.
Its owner was a girl of fifteen or sixteen, clad in flowing white, her features a cascade of delicate grace: eyes limpid as spring pools, form swaying like tender willow, her presence laced with an exquisite fragrance.
At the sight of the white-clad girl claiming the lotus, the crimson maid's face lit with delight. She hurried to the girl's side with deferential poise—plainly, her lady.
The girl placed the lotus in a translucent jade box, though her brow furrowed faintly. "Another female snow lotus? Mother's yin deficiency demands the male variant—why must it elude us? Still, with diligence, I'll find it. I must."
A trace of vexation shadowed her expression. Yet even so, she retained that poised elegance, her gaze brimming with an earnest purity beyond words.
Her eyes drifted then to Fan Xueli atop the peak. In a low voice, she asked the crimson maid, "Xiangnu, who is that man?"
The maid, Xiangnu, replied indifferently, "Just some common herb-picker, Your Highness—pay him no mind. Hmm? That fox?" Her gaze shifted to Fan Xueli, a note of surprise creeping in.
For in that instant, the Nine-Spirit Fox had leaped from Fan Xueli's arms and now trotted obediently at his heels.
- Writer
