Chapter Sixty-three: The Fragrance of Plum Blossoms Comes from Snowy Mountains (Prayers for Ya'an)

Snowflakes fell onto the surface of the lake, melting swiftly. The fallen plum blossoms floated flat atop the water; a few bore a thin haze of white mist, and gradually, the blossoms began to sink to the lake’s depths.

Su Fan slowly crouched down, gently brushing aside the snow to reveal a modest stone tablet. The tablet was ancient in appearance, its surface etched with cracks formed by frost and ice. Strange symbols were carved upon it, yet Su Fan could still decipher their meaning.

“Ice Lake.”

The words were enigmatic—could this be the reason the Snow Wolf Kings dared not approach? Su Fan glanced at the three Snow Wolf Kings lingering outside the Ice Lake and smiled to himself.

Hong Ling, too, understood the symbols and exclaimed softly, “Ice Lake? Why isn’t there any ice?”

Su Fan smiled faintly. “My hometown is called Dragon Stone Village—there are neither dragons nor stones.”

Hong Ling laughed, though whether at Su Fan’s jest or her own question, she did not know.

Su Fan continued, “There’s a strange scent about you.”

Hong Ling blushed and quickly asked, “What kind of scent?”

Su Fan sat down upon the snowy ground, gently breaking off a plum blossom and handing it to her. “A scent of blood.”

Hong Ling took the blossom, her expression filled with silent questions as she gazed at Su Fan.

Smiling, Su Fan went on, “I carry that bloody scent as well. Now I understand why the pack of Snow Wolves has been chasing us.”

Hong Ling’s mouth fell open as she exclaimed, “Snow Wolves are bloodthirsty and extremely sensitive to the scent of blood. Both you and I are stained with the blood of their kin—no wonder they refuse to let us go.”

Su Fan smiled without answering, tacitly agreeing with her.

Hong Ling’s face turned somber. “The scent of blood is strong, and we have no spiritual herbs with us. How can we dispel it?”

Su Fan still wore a gentle smile, pointing at the plum blossom in Hong Ling’s hand.

Hong Ling looked at him in confusion. Su Fan brought the blossom to her nose, and at once, a faint floral fragrance wafted in.

Hong Ling laughed, her joy bright and boundless. She discovered that miracles were ever-present at Su Fan’s side.

Taking a deep breath of the blossom’s fragrance, Hong Ling swiftly rose. She summoned with a gesture, and instantly, plum petals within a hundred miles of the lake flew to her.

Hong Ling formed seals with her hands, and the petals were crushed bit by bit. A streak of green light shot toward them, transforming into a tiny jade bottle.

Reciting incantations, Hong Ling had the bottle absorb all the petals. Then she cast a red light, which enveloped the bottle halfway.

Her technique was deft—clearly, she often made such things. Smiling at Su Fan, she summoned the jade bottle into her hand.

Su Fan could not help but marvel at her strength. The method of summoning plum blossoms was clearly that of the green branch, skilled in cultivating spiritual herbs. The jade bottle was no ordinary artifact; it could withstand the refining of red branch techniques, which was extraordinary. Surely, it was crafted by a prodigious elder of the green branch, and its uniqueness spoke to the mastery of its maker.

Moreover, Hong Ling wielded the red branch’s techniques adeptly. Such a maiden was rare in all of Tianyuan Prefecture.

Curious, Su Fan wondered what extraordinary item she was crafting—could it be a spiritual pill to dispel the scent of blood? If so, she also possessed the yellow branch’s pill-refining arts, which was nearly unthinkable.

Hong Ling looked at Su Fan, uncapped the bottle, and a rich fragrance of plum blossoms drifted forth.

Su Fan was nearly lost in that scent, unable to extricate himself. The fragrance was dozens of times more potent than that from a single blossom, yet never cloying.

He was momentarily stunned; it was fitting for a woman to be skilled in such arts, but Su Fan could not suppress his amazement. If such a fragrance were sold in the market, noble ladies would vie for it madly.

Hong Ling, proud, watched Su Fan’s admiring gaze, seeming to savor the moment. For Su Fan, so singular a person, to hold her in such esteem was indeed a cause for pride.

Feigning nonchalance, Hong Ling said, “There are only two drops of this.”

Su Fan’s expression darkened, as if the neighbor’s cat had eaten his favorite fish, or as if his mother promised him a treat only after he finished his chores.

He stared wide-eyed and cried, “How can two drops be enough?”

Hong Ling cast him a displeased glance. “Why wouldn’t two drops suffice?”

Unable to answer, Su Fan coughed quietly, muttering inwardly about her wastefulness—the many petals had yielded only two drops.

Hong Ling ignored him, tilting the jade bottle and letting a drop of dark red liquid fall.

Su Fan moved to catch it, but shrank back at her sharp gaze. He could only silently hope the precious liquid would not spill onto the snow.

Yet the most unwelcome things always happen; the drop did fall, and Su Fan could sense that it was not due to Hong Ling’s intent. More likely, it was a slip of her hand—but he dared not say so, only feeling the loss in his heart.

Hong Ling showed a trace of regret, glanced at Su Fan, then suddenly burst into laughter.

With a flick of her finger, the dark red drop vanished in the snow, then swiftly flew up.

Su Fan could only smile wryly at her mischief, his face tinged with embarrassment.

Hong Ling’s expression grew serious. She tossed the drop, then fanned it toward Su Fan, enveloping him in a rich plum fragrance.

Su Fan immediately felt clear-headed and invigorated, inhaling deeply as the scent gradually overpowered the bloodiness clinging to him. He sat cross-legged and began to regulate his breath.

Hong Ling likewise sat cross-legged, forming a seal as red light coiled around Su Fan. It was the unique defensive art of the Tianyuan Sect’s red branch, and Hong Ling’s mind was restless.

She had believed her actions were merely repayment for Su Fan’s kindness, but now she realized her deeds had far exceeded the bounds of gratitude. She herself did not know what place Su Fan now held in her heart.

In Su Fan’s heart, Hong Ling was always his benefactor. Though not naive, he could perceive her inexplicable feelings for him. Yet Su Fan’s heart was occupied by other matters; Hong Ling’s affection could only be honored from afar.

Hong Ling had recovered. The two exchanged smiles, watching as the three Snow Wolf Kings gradually departed, feeling a sense of relief.

Suddenly, Su Fan frowned and said, “There’s still one thing I don’t understand.”

Hong Ling smiled gracefully. “What is it?”

Su Fan glanced at the departing snow wolves and spoke gravely. “The sect master said there would be no danger on the outskirts of the Great Snow Mountain. Even if there were snow wolves, they would be solitary.”

Hong Ling’s expression turned grim, interrupting him. “Do you suspect my father?”

Su Fan smiled wryly, patting her shoulder. “Since you know he’s your father, you shouldn’t think that way. How could I suspect him? How could he put you in harm’s way?”

Hong Ling’s smile was strained. She knew her father’s nature and doubted he cared much for her life.

Su Fan continued, “If we are to suspect someone’s involvement, there is indeed a candidate.”

Hong Ling pressed urgently, “Who?”

Su Fan’s gaze grew icy. “The Three Sovereigns Immortal.”

Hong Ling pondered for a moment, recalling who the Three Sovereigns Immortal was, or perhaps counting when the Tianyuan Sect had crossed paths with him. She had never considered Su Fan might have offended such a figure; in her mind, Su Fan was cautious and clever—how could he provoke someone so formidable?

Su Fan seemed to sense her thoughts and spoke calmly. “I killed a disciple of the Three Sovereigns Stronghold. Its master killed my mother, so I slew many of their disciples, thus offending the Three Sovereigns Immortal.”

His words were simple and unadorned, yet Hong Ling felt a profound shock and, above all, sorrow for Su Fan’s experience.

This young man, so close in age to herself, had endured so much—such heartbreak and anguish.

Hong Ling lowered her head, unable to meet Su Fan’s eyes, uncertain how to face him.

Deep inside, she had always harbored resentment toward the elder in red for what he had done to Su Fan, which was why she’d offered to accompany him, hoping to protect him.

Su Fan smiled again, his smile a warm summer breeze. In that moment, he was once more the simple, kind youth.

Only Su Fan knew he wished to ease Hong Ling’s worries; he did not want this innocent girl to bear such burdens so soon.

Softly, he said, “Let’s go.”

Hong Ling answered quietly, trailing behind him without another word.

Su Fan could only accept this, though he remained vigilant for any sudden ambush.

His instincts were correct; as soon as they took a step, before the other foot touched the ground, a sharp, piercing laughter echoed. The laugh was shrill, mingled with anguish, disdain, and mockery—a complex sound.

Su Fan could not bear to listen further. He frowned and halted, asking sternly, “Who are you?”

The laughter ceased. “The one who will kill you.” The voice was as harsh as before, and Hong Ling covered her ears.

Su Fan laughed loudly. “A cowardly rat dares to dream of murder?”

Hong Ling coughed awkwardly, baffled by how Su Fan remained so composed, trading barbs at such a critical moment.

Perhaps Su Fan was ignorant, dismissing the Three Sovereigns Immortal, yet the Immortal was a Nascent Soul master—not someone they could contend with. Su Fan’s words would surely provoke him.

Moreover, the Immortal’s petty nature was well known; Hong Ling had often heard the elders of the sect mention it.

He would not spare them simply because they were juniors, nor would Su Fan be so naive.

Su Fan’s purpose was to draw the Immortal out; it was unwise to face a hidden enemy while exposed.

Thus, he spoke deliberately, even deceiving Hong Ling, and felt a surge of delight, having avenged her earlier mischief.

The Three Sovereigns Immortal appeared, draped in a black rain cloak, though there was neither rain nor need for such a garment in snow—especially not for a cultivator of his level.

The only explanation was that he had concerns—fear of Su Fan? Su Fan thought not. Rather, he must fear the Tianyuan Sect, powerful enough to overshadow the heavens.