Chapter 136: Lord Feng Shui

Two people who love each other—if they can be together in life and death, it is happiness; but if they are separated by life and death, it is misery. Though only a single character divides these two states, the difference between them is vast, two extremes of existence.

“No—”

With a cry of anguish, Zhou Qing shut his eyes and collapsed to the ground, losing consciousness. When he awoke again, it was the chill of falling rain striking his face that roused him.

“Ah—”

Upon waking, Zhou Qing leaned against an ancient tree and rose to his feet, tilting his head to the sky and letting out a roar of unyielding grief. At last, his knees buckled, and he knelt heavily in the mud.

In his mind, the final scene before his fainting flickered again: a young man dressed in black gazing at him with a cruel smile. In his arms, his beloved woman smiled gently, stroked his cheek, whispered a few soft words, and then her entire body disintegrated into ashes, vanishing between heaven and earth.

“Why, why…”

Kneeling beneath the curtain of rain, Zhou Qing’s tears mingled with the rainfall, dripping onto the earth. In his mind, he recalled all that had happened in recent days, and once more he howled at the sky, unwilling to accept fate.

It all seemed like a farce—the events came too quickly, too unexpectedly, yet they were so real, so vivid and unforgettable.

He never imagined that he would fall in love in just a few days, and then lose his beloved just as suddenly.

Life’s rise and fall had arrived too fast, too abruptly; before he could truly savor it, it was already gone.

Zhou Qing had once believed he would spend his life in the company of the Dao, but a few days ago, he changed his mind. He only wished to leave the forest and find a place with his beloved, to live an ordinary life together.

Yet now, the simple dream that had just blossomed in his heart was shattered.

“Purple she dons, purple and gold she wears. My heart grieves—when will it end?
Purple she dons, purple and gold she bears. My heart is troubled—when will its sorrow die?
Purple threads, woven by her hands. I recall those of old, lest I err!
Fine linen, fluttering in the wind. I think of those gone, and truly my heart is taken!”

…

Rain from the sky beat against Zhou Qing’s face, running down his cheeks and soaking his inner garments. He made no effort of will to avoid it. At this moment, Zhou Qing simply cradled in his hands a purple dress left behind by Lin Yunxi, clutching it tightly to his chest as tears streamed down.

In his grip, he still held a blood-red jade pendant—the very piece Old Daoist Wu had nurtured for years and bestowed upon Zhou Qing. But yesterday, Zhou Qing had given it to his beloved.

Unexpectedly, now his beloved was gone forever, and even the jade that had once been white had turned crimson.

He did not know how long he remained thus. Eventually, Zhou Qing rose from the mud, stored the purple dress and red jade in his treasure pouch, and walked down the mountain.

At the foot of the mountain, he followed its base to a small river, leaped in, and let the current carry him away from the Wildman Forest.

Nothing in the forest mattered to him any longer. His greatest reason for entering it was Lin Yunxi, but she was gone; there was no longer any need to stay.

As for his enmity with the black-clad youth, Zhou Qing could only bury it deep within his heart for now—much like the Xumi Temple in Dongguo Town. With his current abilities, he had no means for vengeance; he could only suppress his hatred, but one day he would return.

Speeding along the river, Zhou Qing noticed his mastery over water had grown stronger. When the carp spirit in the Water-Avoiding Palace tossed the blue pearl, and it exploded, several blue rays had entered his body.

After those rays entered, Zhou Qing found the once dim blue glow near his spiritual platform now shone brighter.

Though his speed underwater still lagged compared to traveling on land, it was far safer to journey below the water in this deep mountain and forest.

Following the river northward, Zhou Qing paid no heed to the passage of day and night, nor did he count the time. He did not know how long had passed before, drifting along a broad river toward the north, he encountered a Daoist at the riverbed.

The Daoist wore a golden robe, his two golden mustaches each over a foot long and curled downward beneath his nose. A thick mane of golden hair crowned his head.

At the moment Zhou Qing saw him, he immediately recognized the figure—none other than the True Lord of Water, whom he had mentioned to the black-clad youth earlier.

Why did Zhou Qing recognize him at a glance? Because in the main hall of the Water-Avoiding Palace, there hung a painting of a Daoist identical in appearance to the one before him.

When Zhou Qing saw the True Lord of Water, the other stopped, hands clasped behind his back, floating in the water as he scrutinized Zhou Qing.

“Greetings, elder.”

Catching the True Lord’s gaze, Zhou Qing drifted near and paused, bowing respectfully to the golden-robed, golden-haired Daoist.

“Why does a human cultivator appear in the waters of my demon clan?”

Seeing Zhou Qing’s manner, the True Lord of Water responded with a calm tone.

“Junior was wandering recently and inadvertently entered this water territory. I am now about to leave.”

“Oh—” The True Lord nodded, then asked, “Did you encounter anything in the forested waters?”

For this question, Zhou Qing could hardly admit he met the True Lord’s nephew and slew him.

“Yesterday, I encountered a fellow Daoist not far from here. He called himself the Golden Robe Venerable. We chatted briefly before parting. Later, I met a pair of Daoist companions—one called Heavenly Lord, the other Heavenly Lady…”

His tone was tranquil, weaving a tale as he spoke. After finishing, Zhou Qing countered, “Is elder also a resident of this water territory?”

From Zhou Qing’s steady, unhurried tone, the True Lord of Water detected no oddity. To him, Zhou Qing’s account was sparse and ordinary—not at all like a lie.

“The Golden Robe Venerable you met yesterday—is he well?” Observing Zhou Qing closely, the True Lord asked again.

The reason for this inquiry was that, recently, he had sensed an ominous feeling—his only surviving kin in this world might be in danger. Thus he had returned from the depths of the North Sea to Wildman Forest.

“What does elder mean? Is the Golden Robe Daoist unwell? That seems unlikely. I know a bit of medicine, and when I met him yesterday, I saw no sign of illness in his vitality.”

Zhou Qing’s answers were well-constructed, and his tone betrayed no flaw.

Hearing Zhou Qing's words and seeing the confusion on his face, the True Lord of Water secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

“Go on your way, young one. Do not trespass in these waters again.”

With that, the True Lord blurred, swiftly drifting toward the waters behind Zhou Qing, his speed far surpassing Zhou Qing’s.

Glancing back at the departing old carp spirit, Zhou Qing felt relief. Without lingering, he too blurred and followed the broad river northward.