Chapter Fifteen: Reclining Amidst White Clouds, No Kindred Spirit in the World

This sudden female voice, though gentle and melodious, immediately put the two of them on guard.

Who was this newcomer? And who was the “master” she mentioned?

As the mist around them parted, a beautiful white fox stepped out with graceful poise.

Qingsong was stunned; he had assumed the speaker was a woman, never expecting it to be a white fox.

“A… a monster?”

He blurted out the words in his nervousness.

Bai Yi’s face darkened, her snowy tail pausing mid-sway as she shot Qingsong a fierce glare.

Qingsong realized his indiscretion and, regretting it, could only force an awkward smile and stand aside in silence.

Jiang Liunian, who had seen much of the world, knew well that extraordinary beasts and spirits roamed between heaven and earth. He wasn’t overly surprised at the white fox’s appearance. Instead, he clasped his hands in greeting and asked courteously, “May I ask, friend, which esteemed senior has invited me here?”

Being addressed as “friend” by Jiang Liunian clearly pleased Bai Yi; her charming fox eyes curved into crescents, and her tone grew polite as she returned the gesture. “The master is lecturing at the mountain’s summit. Knowing guests had arrived, he sent me to welcome you.”

She urged them, “Stay close to me, and I’ll lead you up the mountain. If you’re late, you’ll miss your chance and won’t hear the master’s teaching!”

Jiang Liunian glanced at Qingsong in doubt—how could the Red Pine Dao Palace have someone powerful enough to command spiritual beasts, yet rumor had never mentioned such a master? Qingsong himself was at a complete loss.

The master’s lecture? Could it be that the elder Songhe, wandering beyond the mountains, had returned? Then who was the youth they’d met earlier?

Both men, filled with questions, followed as the white fox bounded lightly up the path.

With Bai Yi guiding the way, the mountain mist parted knowingly to either side, revealing an ancient stone path hidden within. On both sides, light smoke and thin fog still shrouded the view, obscuring their surroundings.

What they didn’t know was that, just a hundred paces away, a group of burly men were hacking away at the forest thorns with large knives. The sounds of their labor did not reach Qingsong and Jiang Liunian at all.

…

After clearing a patch of brambles, Wang Jin took off his shirt and wiped the sweat from his brow. All around was a haze of mist.

Several river bandits, seeing their leader pause to rest, put down their tools and gathered round. One of them, utterly exhausted, asked, “Big Brother, that demon priest trapped us in this cursed place—won’t kill us, won’t let us go, just makes us chop and plant trees day and night. What’s he really up to?”

Wang Jin, too, felt stifled by the thought. Once a proud captain of the local garrison, later a notorious bandit on the Jinsha River, he now found himself reduced to a mere woodcutter. How could he not feel aggrieved?

Yet all their meridians were sealed, the surrounding forest a labyrinth. They had wandered for ages and could not find a way down the mountain. Even if they wished to escape, they were powerless.

Though he suffered in silence, Wang Jin could not let his men see his discouragement. Forcing a confident smile, he said evenly, “Brothers, don’t worry! As long as we don’t return, the lord of the manor will surely send people to check on us. While you work, keep an eye out—if anyone passes by, we can call for rescue.”

“A fine plan, Big Brother!”

“Indeed! When the time comes, we must have the lord send troops to destroy this demon priest and avenge us!”

The bandits grew excited.

Rumbles of hunger suddenly echoed among them. The mood, so full of resolve, cooled at once.

Since the previous night, all they’d had were a few steamed buns, and their stomachs burned with hunger. The priest had assigned them endless tasks, and only by working tirelessly could they earn a few buns to stave off starvation.

Now that dusk approached, if they wasted any more time talking, they’d likely go hungry again tonight.

These men, used to feasting on fish and meat during their days of plunder along the Jinsha River, were now forced to labor for mere scraps of bread—resentment grew in their hearts.

Still, anger aside, they silently turned, shouldering axes and hoes, and returned to the thickets.

…

Their movements did not escape Bai Yi, who lingered not far away. Hearing them call the master a “demon priest” and plot revenge, disgust flashed in her eyes.

To her, Lin You was nothing short of divine—she could not abide anyone slandering him.

She snorted softly, a plan forming in her mind. While she could not kill these wicked river bandits, she could certainly make them suffer. When they sat to eat, she’d turn their dinner into roots and wood shavings—just a small act of vengeance for the master!

Though the master was broad-minded and might not care, Bai Yi was not one to forgive easily.

At the thought, her eyes curved mischievously, and she couldn’t help but smile like a fox cub who’d just stolen a chicken.

Jiang Liunian and Qingsong, seeing the white fox alternately glare toward the woods in anger and then break into a secret grin, were left utterly baffled.

“Forgive my distraction. Guests, please follow me,” Bai Yi said, realizing she’d lost her composure under their gaze. Blushing, she led them onward toward the summit.

This time, nothing interrupted their journey. Under her guidance, the two soon reached the mountain gate of the Red Pine Dao Palace.

Excitement flickered in Qingsong’s eyes. Though he’d only been away two or three days, it felt as if months had passed. The bustling world below, for all its glamour, could not compare to the mountain’s singing streams and wild cranes.

“The master is teaching by the cliff. Please make yourselves comfortable—I must return to report,” Bai Yi announced, then darted away on light feet toward the gate, eager to listen to the master’s lecture.

Seeing Bai Yi’s look of reverence, Jiang Liunian’s curiosity grew. He led Qingsong through the mountain gate and toward the high cliff behind the Daoist court.

The chill mountain breeze brushed their faces, carrying with it an indescribable fragrance. For a moment, the two felt as if they stood deep within a pine forest, listening to the murmuring of springs among rocks. The scent seemed to free their hearts of all care.

Drawn by the fragrance, they looked up.

On the high cliff, beside drifting clouds, a Daoist in green robes tended a tea stove. His bearing was carefree and unrestrained, as if an immortal had descended to the mortal world. Wisps of vapor curled above the tea stove, the strange fragrance spreading, light as the shadow of a pine, drifting like the shape of a crane.

At the Daoist’s knee, a white fox lay demure and composed.

“Reveling beyond the highest clouds, savoring blossoms and mountain springs. Red Pine appears at the upper reaches, riding the wind, soaring on purple mist...”

From deep within the clouds, a faint, unhurried chant echoed.

Listening to this free and easy recitation, gazing at the green-robed figure who seemed to recline above the clouds, a surge of excitement rose in Jiang Liunian’s heart.

It was the thrill of meeting a kindred spirit.

He had wandered mountains and rivers for years in search of the Way, befriending many with magical arts. Yet in this age, when spiritual vitality grew scarce, most people chased after fame and fortune, or lost themselves in luxury and pleasure.

A seeker as steadfast as himself was often seen as an oddity.

Now, at last, he had met a true companion on the path.

Reclining among the clouds, yet unrecognized by the world.

From the moment he saw Lin You, these words surfaced naturally in his mind.

Only those who truly cultivate the Way can be so free and unrestrained.