Chapter Seventy-Three: Ninth Sister Bows to the Andan Family as Her Master, the Scholar’s Lofty Ambitions and Heroic Spirit

A distant haze deepens the evening, the calls of homebound birds shift with the spring. Today’s weather was far from pleasant. A night of spring rain had fallen, and now, heavy dusk clouds pressed low, overcast and brooding as if more rain was yet to come. Evening approached, yet not the faintest glow of sunset appeared; the sky was dim, and even a yard away, faces blurred into shadow.

Along the bluestone path within the Lin estate, Lin Qingyin and Lin Zhuifeng were preparing to escort Anle out, when unexpectedly, they encountered Ji Ying, who was waiting for them. As the close handmaid to the old madam, her presence here could mean only one thing: she had come on the old madam’s behalf. Ji Ying was no ordinary servant—she too was a cultivator of notable standing within the Lin household, her status equal to Lin Zhuifeng’s. Yet, accustomed to serving the old madam, she was far less free-spirited than Lin Zhuifeng.

In Anle’s eyes, Ji Ying carried about her the aura of many years, as much as Lin Zhuifeng did. But Ji Ying, being older and having long served the old madam, had gained many treasures for her cultivation. Thus, in terms of innate talent, she was far inferior to Lin Zhuifeng.

“The old madam wishes to see me?” Anle asked, a trace of surprise in his voice, veiled by the dim light. Lin Zhuifeng and Lin Qingyin were equally taken aback. After all, the old madam now spent her days cloistered within the Celestial Wave Pavilion, seeing almost no one save Lady Hua and Master Lin Si.

Even Lin Qingyin, her most beloved, had not seen her in ages. Yet today, against all expectations, Ji Ying had been sent to invite Anle.

“Yes, Young Master An,” Ji Ying replied with a gentle smile. Though not especially beautiful, she possessed a grace and warmth that seemed to reach her very bones.

Anle nodded. Ji Ying led the way. Lin Qingyin and Lin Zhuifeng, wishing to follow, were gently barred by Ji Ying and had no choice but to remain behind.

With measured steps, Anle followed Ji Ying toward the Celestial Wave Pavilion—a majestic, octagonal tower with eaves that curved and dripped, a symbol of the Lin family’s honor and status, said to house the precious imperial edicts within.

At the base of the pavilion, Ji Ying stepped aside. “Young Master An, the old madam awaits on the third floor. Please proceed on your own,” she said softly. Anle acknowledged her, “Thank you, Miss Ji Ying,” and, without further hesitation, ascended the tower, sword and inkstone at his waist.

Up close, the pavilion’s grandeur faded; the red lacquer was cracked in places, the wood aged and bored through with tiny holes by insects—marks of the long years it had stood, bearing witness to the passage of time.

With a solemn air, Anle set foot on the narrow wooden stairs. Each step creaked beneath him, the sound echoing softly. On the third floor, a breath of spring drifted through, tinged with the scent of sandalwood. The interior was simple, almost austere, a stark contrast to the ornate facade. Few furnishings filled the vast space.

The tower was rarely entered; Anle had never imagined he would one day set foot here.

Footsteps sounded, slow and deliberate, accompanied by the tap of a cane against the floorboards. Anle looked up and saw a stooped old woman, splendidly dressed, her hair as white as frost, approaching.

“Anle, at your service, old madam,” Anle greeted her respectfully with a bow. This was a legendary figure, renowned throughout Lin’an, who had once personally led armies to battle, earning her great fame. After the passing of the old master Lin, she had shouldered the family’s burdens, becoming its unshakable pillar.

The old madam’s face was kind, her eyes deep as the star-strewn heavens. Leaning on her golden dragon-headed cane, she regarded Anle with a gentle smile, nodding as she took his measure—a youth striking in appearance, touched with an almost otherworldly air. She had heard of his exploits: his ink bamboo painting that stunned the academy, his victory at the foot of the Sixth Mountain, and most recently, his defeat of Wang Qinhe, champion of the Little Sage List.

From a figure easily overlooked, he had risen to prominence, gathering around him the brash spirit of youth.

“Excellent,” the old madam said with a smile.

Anle bowed again. In his eyes, the aura of years around her far outstripped even Lady Hua’s—though not quite on par with the elders of the Ancestral Shrine, she was among the strongest he had ever met. Though age weighed heavily upon her, her presence remained as imposing as a mountain.

“I have seen your ink bamboo, and admired your galloping horse. You are truly skilled. You have painted sketches for the children of the Lin family—thank you for your efforts,” the old madam said, settling herself at a table and motioning for Anle to sit.

“It is my honor to paint for the young masters of the Lin family, not an effort at all. Your words are too generous,” Anle replied with a smile.

The old madam’s manner was gentle and familiar, as though she were a neighborly elder chatting with a younger generation. She asked about his past, his confidence for the upcoming examination, the troubles he faced in cultivation—her questions were warm and approachable.

Anle relaxed, the conversation flowing freely, and his words often brought a laugh from the old madam.

“Young Master An, I have one final question,” she said, her expression soft.

“Please, old madam,” Anle responded. The old madam rose, leaning on her cane, and walked to the vermilion-carved window, gazing out at the Lin estate shrouded in night.

She turned to Anle. “What do you think of the Ninth Miss?” Anle froze—what was the meaning of this question?

The old madam sighed. “Ninth Miss is gentle and mild, shunning conflict, unlike most in the Lin family. I have been fond of her since she was a child. She loves painting, and you have taught her. Thus, I have a request.”

“I hope you will formally accept the Ninth Miss as your disciple and teach her to paint.” Outside, the clouds parted, and cold moonlight poured like gauze, illuminating the old woman’s face—etched not only with sorrow, but with the plans she made for what was to come.

For a long moment, Anle bowed deeply. “Very well.”

Under the moonlight, the old madam’s features brightened with relief—a modest yet heartfelt wish fulfilled.

…

Leaving the Celestial Wave Pavilion, Anle looked back at the ornate tower with its dripping eaves. At the window, he could just make out the stooped figure nodding to him.

The conversation with the old madam had surprised him. He knew something of the Lin family’s affairs, aware of the recent turmoil regarding the upcoming palace examination. He had thought the old madam would ask him to lend his strength at court, but instead, she only wished him to officially take Lin Qingyin as a disciple and teach her painting.

Though Lin Qingyin had long called him “teacher,” they were not master and apprentice in truth. To formalize the relationship would be something else entirely.

Bathed in the cold moonlight, Anle had just left the estate when a figure suddenly appeared, cutting through the night. Lady Hua, dressed in black gauze that accentuated her graceful figure, a slender sword at her waist, seemed travel-worn. Perhaps she had rushed home, having heard the old madam was meeting with Anle.

“Madam,” Ji Ying greeted her quickly, then withdrew discreetly.

Lady Hua’s gaze fell on Anle. “The old madam saw you?”

“What did you talk about?”

“We chatted about family and cultivation, and in the end, the old madam asked me to formally take Miss Qingyin as my apprentice and teach her painting. I agreed,” Anle replied.

Lady Hua’s flawless features flickered with surprise. “Nothing more?”

“Nothing more,” Anle said with a smile.

Lady Hua seemed pensive; her eyes, clear as a lake, softened as she looked toward the Celestial Wave Pavilion.

“Your ink bamboo and your galloping horse have already won you fame in Lin’an. For Qingyin to become your disciple is a blessing for her. The spring examination is near—study hard,” Lady Hua instructed gently.

Anle bowed, his expression solemn, then turned to leave. His white robes fluttered in the moonlight, the sword and inkstone at his waist framing his youthful grace.

Watching his figure vanish into the quiet night, Lady Hua returned to the estate. She gazed at the Celestial Wave Pavilion, her eyes growing even more tender.

The old madam had respected her wishes, not forcing her hand or asking Anle to contend for the Wind-Calming Blade, nor to be drawn into the coming storm. Yet she placed her hopes on Anle’s future, entrusting Qingyin to him as though leaving a precious legacy.

The moon shone calmly on the still pond; the night was filled with the gentle strains of music.

By the waterside pavilion, Lady Hua sighed, gazing at the solitary moon reflected in the water, her brow shadowed with worry and tinged with an unspoken resolve.

…

Anle left the Lin estate and, as was his custom, stopped at the tavern in Yanchun Lane to buy wine. Though it was late, the tavern bustled with laughter and cheerful voices.

The lady innkeeper’s face lit up when she saw Anle. She chatted amiably with him as she filled his jug—pouring him a little extra for his handsomeness.

Anle paid with a smile, carrying off his jug of aged yellow wine. Next, he stopped by Dingya Lane for a pound of beef, then returned to his courtyard on Taibiao Street.

The old man arrived as promised, bamboo staff tapping in the moonlight. The two sat together, drinking and feasting, their conversation easy. Anle spoke of his meeting with the old madam.

The old man sipped his warm wine, his eyes reflecting distant memories. “Madam Yu is a remarkable woman. She once led the armies herself, crushing the invading Western Liang forces—her courage rivaled any man’s. But even she cannot withstand the passage of years,” the old man sighed.

“It was the royal family that mishandled this matter. The Wind-Calming Blade was Lin Dalang’s saber, a gift from the royal treasury, but it should have rightfully remained with the Lin family. Qin Lishi meddled in the matter, but in truth, it was that one from the Celestial Pavilion who is to blame.”

“Since the southward migration, I’ve come to expect nothing but folly from those quarters,” the old man said, his tone heavy with disdain for the powers at the Celestial Pavilion.

They spoke no more of these matters. The old man asked Anle to demonstrate the Three Swords of the Ci School in the courtyard, so he could assess his progress and offer guidance.

Anle drew his sword and began to practice. The twenty new wisps of the aura of years he had gained today were all invested in his “Talent of the Ages” attribute, now at fifty-seven wisps, further enhancing his comprehension.

Jade energy gleamed, sword light shimmered. Amid the old man’s instructions and the clink of wine cups, the youth’s sword danced, cold and clear.

…

Within the ancient jade for tempering demons, wisps of demon energy wove and coiled around Anle, refining his body and deepening his mastery of the Five Forms of the Ancient Demon.

His blood surged, waves crashing within him. Visions of demon tiger, fierce bear, and devil ape grew ever more powerful.

Finishing his demon training, Anle turned to the study of sword energy, immersing his mind into the Little Sage Order, observing and comprehending its techniques. The secret arts it contained were profound, enough to occupy him for a long while.

When the warm spring sun finally broke through the clouds, Anle rose, changed into fresh clothes, and prepared to leave the courtyard. With his sword and inkstone at his waist and a book in hand, he set out as usual.

The palace examination offered the Wind-Calming Blade as its prize. The Lin family hoped to reclaim it, but the path was fraught with obstacles. They had aided him when he was unknown; as he always said, a drop of kindness should be repaid a thousandfold. If he could help, he would.

Yet the palace examination was not easily won. First, Anle had to excel in the spring examination, securing a top spot before qualifying for the palace contest.

He trained his body and mind, read calmly and diligently. Life returned to its quiet rhythm of rigorous study. Though his fame in Lin’an was growing, it disturbed his daily life little.

Lin Qingyin, too, learned of the old madam’s wish for her to become Anle’s disciple. She accepted, smiling brightly. The next day, accompanied by Lin Zhuifeng and attendants, she came to Taibiao Street with generous gifts: six hundred spirit coins, spirit beast meat, spirit wine, and other tokens of respect.

Anle had not expected such formality for the ceremony; he had thought a simple acknowledgment would suffice, as he was already teaching Lin Qingyin painting.

Lin Zhuifeng, standing by, mused that after this bow, his ninth sister would truly be a disciple—such a handsome young man as Anle, it seemed a waste not to claim him as more than a teacher.

After leaving the courtyard, Anle enjoyed a bowl of hot bean curd, then strolled leisurely toward West Lake. Liu Yue, the scholar of Huating, was deep in conversation with several literati, his gaze solemn.

Spotting Anle, Liu Yue brightened, waved farewell to the others, and joined him for a walk along the dike.

The willow branches swayed in the breeze, refreshing and pleasant.

“Brother An, the spring examination is in a few days. Are you confident?” Liu Yue had grown close to Anle through their recent talks.

Reading from a classic, Anle smiled. “I am confident. Doing my best is the greatest respect I can pay the examination.”

Liu Yue’s eyes shone as he gazed at the rippling lake, taking a deep breath. “Our dynasty has been in the south for five centuries, prosperity like a dream, years slipping by—but from our books we still know the lands north of the Canglang River were once our homeland. Now the imperial court sits in the south, and no longer dreams of reclaiming lost lands. If I succeed and become an official, I will petition the emperor to recover our heritage. That is the duty of us scholars.”

Though not a cultivator, Liu Yue’s patriotism burned bright.

Anle regarded him with a smile. “Then may you succeed, Brother Liu, and help relieve our nation’s troubles.”

Liu Yue grinned. “By the way, An, there’s a literary gathering tonight—some friends of mine are hosting. Would you care to join?”

Anle shook his head. “I have much to attend to each day, so I must decline.”

Liu Yue was not surprised—Anle’s growing renown in Lin’an meant he could not freely attend such gatherings.

As they walked beneath the willows, a small boat approached from afar. A familiar maid stood upright on the prow. Catching sight of Anle, she bowed. “Master An, my lady invites you. Would you care to join her on the pleasure barge today?”

Anle glanced at the barge in the middle of the lake, where Lady Yunrou nodded to him from afar.

A smile played on his lips. With no duties at the Lin estate today, there was no reason to refuse.

“Then I am in your lady’s care,” Anle replied with a bow. Taking his leave of Liu Yue—who looked on in envious admiration—he boarded the little skiff.

The boat glided smoothly toward the pleasure barge. After all this time since his arrival in this world, Anle’s small wish was finally fulfilled: to board a flower boat at the heart of West Lake.

ps: Thanks to Yong Ye Tian Chen for the generous alliance lord reward! I’ll try to add an extra update today! It’s a new week—please vote and support!