Good Things Take Time

Seeing Yan Changqing's lingering soul, its face a mask of confusion and pain, Ding Songyan shifted the misty “seed” to his throat. He spoke in an eerie, icy voice: “Yan Changqing, where is the missing Kunlun?” From details such as Hundun's remains he had long since established that Yan Changqing had entered the Heavenly Emperor's traveling palace, so he skipped straight past the “was it” and “did you” questions. Yan Changqing's wandering ghost turned his body, gazed at him blankly, and answered in a hollow voice: “Kunlun has always been where it originally was, between the Chishui and the Heishui, merely hidden away.” Just then Su Qingli let out a soft cry: “I can hear it, I can hear it!” Her delight was plain to see. Tao Wenshu, holding a sword sheath and a longsword, also gave a nod. You can hear it too? Makes sense—I haven't even moved the misty “seed” to my ears, and I can hear just fine... This works out better, though; it saves me the trouble of relaying everything, and it spares me being suspected of playing middleman, pocketing the difference and hiding key information... Ding Songyan relaxed and put his words together: “Then how does one enter Kunlun?” Yan Changqing's ghost was half transparent and tinged with dark green: “One, being able to sense heaven and answer earth. Two, holding one of the things that once flowed out of Kunlun, or a relic of the Heavenly Emperor. Three, finding a particular place according to the Secret Compendium of Kunlun.” “The Secret Compendium of Kunlun?” Tao Wenshu and Su Qingli asked at the same time. Ding Songyan did not need to think about what to ask next: “What is the Secret Compendium of Kunlun?” Something shifted in the expression on Yan Changqing's ghostly face: “Ever since Qi of Xia declined to succeed to the Heavenly Emperor's throne, every generation has had those who went seeking Kunlun. The Secret Compendium of Kunlun is the book in which later people gathered what those seekers gained.” Ding Songyan did not press on that and went straight for the heart of the matter: “Where is the Secret Compendium? And where is the particular place it records?” “After I was gravely wounded by Hundun's remains, I had no choice but to leave Kunlun ahead of time, and I lost that book in the danger zone of the outermost layer.” Yan Changqing's ghostly face twisted slightly. “Hundun's remains...” Su Qingli murmured to herself. Yan Changqing went on: “That particular place is not directly recorded in the Secret Compendium. I found it myself, by going through what my predecessors said, discarding the dross and keeping the essence, separating the false from the true, working it out with the arts of calculation, and surveying the ground in person. “I did not put this in the Secret Compendium. I kept it only in my heart, so that if one day I were thrown into prison, I could use it to keep my life.” At that, a hint of a smile surfaced on the ghost's face, as if to say, “If you want to find the missing Kunlun, you can't kill me!” Too bad you ran into a filial disciple, Ji Hanyi, and an ordinary man with no martial arts like me. If you don't die, then nine times out of ten I die, and compared with the secret of Kunlun, my staying alive matters more... Ding Songyan found it both funny and stirring. Because of this, he also understood one thing completely: No wonder Yan Changqing showed fear when he saw that the one Juesheng Dao had sent was Ji Hanyi—others would still spare a thought for the secret of Kunlun and leave him room to maneuver, but with Ji Hanyi, killing him ranked above getting the Heavenly Emperor's treasure and unraveling Kunlun's mystery. In the end, the demoness never even asked where the missing Kunlun was. Ding Songyan could not tell whether Yan Changqing's lingering soul still clung to guarding the secret of Kunlun, so he could only try changing the question: “Where is that particular place?” Yan Changqing's face, pale and dark green together, suddenly twisted: “Right—that man was the one who led me to work it out. From the records he left in the Secret Compendium, he was already not far from the correct answer. There's no reason for there to be nothing after that, unless he died soon afterward...” Don't wander off into whatever else—answer where the particular place is first... Only then did Ding Songyan realize that in yin-walking soul communion, a ghost did not answer whatever he asked, especially one who had died not long ago and whose thoughts and fixations were still vivid. He had no choice but to repeat the question: “Where is that particular place?” Fear surfaced on Yan Changqing's twisted face for no clear reason, as if he had recalled some realization from before his death: “According to Jiang—” Before the ghost finished speaking, above the smoke-dark Netherworld a bolt of dark green lightning fell without a sound, striking in an instant Yan Changqing's lingering soul, which had not yet fully passed into the underworld. Yan Changqing let out a shrill scream that stabbed at Ding Songyan's eardrums with pain. The dark green lightning raced swiftly through him, and in the blink of an eye Yan Changqing's lingering soul thinned, scattered like smoke, and left no trace behind. “What happened?” Su Qingli asked urgently, her hands clapped over her ears, and Tao Wenshu showed the same puzzlement. Once Miss Xiaoqing lowered her hands, Ding Songyan described everything he had seen and what had befallen Yan Changqing, exactly as it was. He was just as baffled by it: Had Master Yan's sins been so heavy that this calamity was his due, or was it simply that he and the others had poor luck? In the middle of yin-walking soul communion, the target had actually been struck by a yin thunderbolt until his soul scattered! Su Qingli blinked: “Did he break a heavenly law, violate a netherworld statute, or is someone using this to silence him?” “Someone—someone can—can use it to silence him?” Ding Songyan was so shocked that his words came out haltingly. Su Qingli's eyes shifted, and she took on a reminiscent look: “Any sect that can reach into the Netherworld or borrow the Netherworld's power has some chance of doing something like that, but as for who could put on a scene so close to a miracle, I have no idea.” “Those of Zhenling Sect's Useless Divine Art, which makes one a god or ghost after death; those of the Sanwei School who cultivate the Yin Statutes; the masters of the Burial Mystery in the Mangshan School; the skilled deliverers of the Earth Mother Religion; every branch lineage of the Wuchang Religion; the eminent monks of the Dizang Sect who hold the Dizang Scripture of Descending to the Netherworld; those who practice the Nine Methods of Youdu in the Youdu Sect; and Dixu, which holds the Heavenly Statutes, and the Shaman Religion, which is versed in the shamanic arts—all of them could. Hmm, there are plenty with powers as peculiar as that; what I listed isn't even all of them. But to do what just happened, it would have to be, at the very least, a grand master of the Heaven-Man Realm,” Tao Wenshu said thoughtfully. Among the sects his master had mentioned, Ding Songyan had so far only heard of Zhenling Sect, the Earth Mother Religion, and Dixu. Zhenling Sect was one of Great Zhao's Six Sects and Four Schools. The Earth Mother Religion was one of the Nine Great Religions of the World, its headquarters in the Gan Kingdom, its creed to save the world and deliver the people, and it had followers within Great Zhao too—and the two religions of Great Zhao's Two Religions and Three Clans were likewise among the Nine Great Religions of the World, namely the Kitchen God Religion and the Yin-Yang Religion. Dixu was one of the five great holy lands of the world and one of Zhao State's two, and it called itself the tomb guardians of Emperor Zhuanxu. “I can't imagine who it might be...” Su Qingli shook her head slowly, and with her clear black-and-white eyes fixed on Tao Wenshu, full of a thirst to know, she asked, “Sect Master Tao, who would the one surnamed Jiang be? It should be Jiang, shouldn't it? Why would just mentioning him bring a yin thunderbolt down on his head?” Before Tao Wenshu could answer, the girl went on by herself: “The only famous Jiang I know is Jiang Lanting of the Yin-Yang Religion. He's in the top ten of the Jade Tree Ranking. But Yan Yong disappeared at least thirteen years ago, and Jiang Lanting was only ten at the time, so it can't possibly be him... Someone of his parents' generation? His grandfather's?” Tao Wenshu thought a moment and said: “Neither Jiang Lanting's parents nor his forebears are famous in the martial world.” “Uh... I'll ask my Second Uncle later, and my father and my aunt.” When Su Qingli could not work it out, she stopped trying—let the elders worry about it. Tao Wenshu turned her gaze to Ding Songyan: “Though we haven't learned the way into Kunlun, getting these clues is very good already, and you should have first merit. “In a while, the head of the Yi family and the Twin Gold and Silver Swords of the Chongwu Sect will both arrive. This evening, Elder Tian of Shenxiao Sect should reach us as well. Though I witnessed your exchange with Yan Changqing's lingering soul myself, and I have some credibility, so I can answer for you and they won't come looking for you again, you should still be ready to be questioned. “Miss Su, please be so kind as to send this disciple of mine home, so he isn't caught up in the remaining chaos. I need to go to Jiangbo Hall to lend my fellow cultivators a hand.” As she spoke, Tao Wenshu produced a gilded token, gave it to Su Qingli, and told her that Beishui Street had been sealed off and that they could get in and out with this token. Ding Songyan was a little taken aback: Master isn't even going to check what I have on me before sending me home? And afterwards she'll take the questioning of the grand masters, or even a Perfected One, on my behalf? Isn't this a hint to me: whatever you may have gained, use what should be used and hide what should be hidden—don't let anything slip. Even if the Perfected Ones and grand masters may not see you in person, you still have to guard against it. Ding Songyan, having caught the meaning hidden in Tao Wenshu's words, felt another surge of warmth: She already treats me as a true disciple! What's more, he more or less understood why his master did not ask him what he had gained: his master was known for being upright and open, both in character and in the art she cultivated. If she learned something, it would be hard for her to lie or hide it in front of the Perfected Ones and the grand masters, so it was better not to ask at all. This also showed that his master was someone who knew how to adapt, who had skill in handling affairs, and was not blindly rigid and pedantic... That's good, that's good... Ding Songyan thanked his master solemnly and watched her go out of the courtyard with her sword, leaving only a gently swaying scene. Su Qingli turned back, her face full of excitement, and said to Ding Songyan: “Let's go find Yuyao first. She's nearby. Then I'll take you home, and on the way you have to tell me what happened earlier!” Only then did Ding Songyan learn that the little maid was called Yuyao. He thought for a moment and said: “Miss Xiaoqing, I'm afraid there might be chaos on the road. Why don't you go find Miss Yuyao first, and I'll wait for you here? With two of you, you won't have to fear any chaos at all.” He wanted to send Miss Xiaoqing away so that he could hurry up and eat the Hundun's remains. Su Qingli's eyes shifted slightly; she thought for a moment and said: “That makes sense.” She hurried toward the doorway and entered the courtyard. While the yin eye's effect had not yet faded, Ding Songyan quickly moved the misty “seed” to his wrist, then reached behind him to the jet-black stone pillar and took out the small lump of Hundun's remains, rough and slippery to the touch. He had not yet lifted his hand when Yuyao's voice came from outside the courtyard: “Miss, miss, did you find them?” “Here, here!” Su Qingli shouted, turning back to look at Ding Songyan. Ding Songyan jumped in fright, clenched the lump of Hundun's remains tight, and hid his hand behind his back. “Let's go.” Su Qingli, eyes and brows curved, beckoned to Ding Songyan. Ding Songyan walked over. He wasn't especially nervous; after all, she was his own friend, and he knew well enough what she was like. In fact, even if he ate the Hundun's remains right in front of her, it probably wouldn't be a big problem. His only worry was that Miss Xiaoqing often let secrets slip through unthinking remarks, and that his small lump of Hundun's remains might not be enough. By the time his “grandmaster trial card” ran out, he hoped to have truly risen to the corresponding realm. Until then, the best course was to lie low and grow quietly—the fewer people who knew of this, the better. Su Qingli noticed nothing. She gripped Ding Songyan's shoulder and carried him lightly over walls and across courtyards, giving him almost the sensation of riding the clouds and mist, while the maid Yuyao followed beside them, on guard against chaos and mishaps. Seeing that even Miss Xiaoqing could not sense the Hundun's remains clenched in his palm, Ding Songyan let out a quiet breath. They left the Zhen Manor and, with the token, got out of Beishui Street. Su Qingli set Ding Songyan down and said with a smile: “Let's stroll to your home, and you can tell me about what happened before. “Don't worry—the people around us, Yuyao included, can't hear, and won't touch you. I can use the Great Void illusory realm!” Ding Songyan, having made up his mind to swallow the Hundun's remains at the slightest sign of trouble, steadied himself and nodded slightly: “Alright.”