Jilong Cliff was a precipice jutting far out into the river, rising dozens of zhang high like a fist thrust from the surrounding mountains into the water's surface.
The top of the cliff was flat. Down below, surging river currents battered the rock into layers of churning white waves, beneath which churned deep, dark whirlpools.
Thanks to its unique terrain, this place had naturally become a sacrificial terrace.
Since ancient times, every ritual offering dedicated to the Dragon Lord and the river deities had been held here.
Near the cliff's edge facing the water stood a tall stone stele carved with a dragon's head. The front was inscribed with the Dragon Lord's sacred title, while the back bore a sacrificial prayer several hundred characters long.
The fifteenth day of the fifth month was the appointed day to sacrifice to the Jiuyuan River's Dragon Lord. Long before the hour, an incense altar had been arranged before the dragon stele, bearing three kinds of fresh flowers and five kinds of fruit.
The prepared three sacrificial animals—ox, sheep, and pig—lay bound off to one side. The beasts were draped in colorful ribbons covered with words praising the Dragon Lord.
The Jiuyuan River Dragon Lord was a dragon deity conferred by the imperial court, making this ceremony an official state sacrifice.
Moreover, the ritual on the fifteenth of the fifth month had to be presided over by the Prefect of Yunyang himself, to pray for timely wind and rain, bountiful harvests, and long life for the people throughout the year.
By the hour of the snake in the mid-morning, the cliff was already packed with people.
At the entrance below the cliff, a large detachment of soldiers in gleaming armor stood guard, numbering well into the hundreds.
Common folk could only watch from below. Only those possessing a certain rank and social standing were entitled to ascend Jilong Cliff.
Zhang Yunming followed behind his father, Zhang Shihong. He stood ramrod straight, yet his gaze roved about, taking everything in.
Today's sacrifice was truly a grand occasion; nearly every person of consequence in Yunyang Prefecture had arrived.
Standing at the very front, naturally, was his uncle Zhang Shiheng, alongside Abbot Xinjue of Golden Leaf Temple and Abbot Zhiyuan of the branch abbey.
The old monk Xinjue was tall and burly, draped in a red kasaya over deep-yellow robes. Holding a Buddhist staff, he stood there like a demon-subduing arhat, cutting quite an imposing figure.
The monks behind him were likewise brimming with vitality.
On the other side stood Abbot Zhiyuan of Yunlong Branch Abbey. He was short and slight, his aged eyes half-open and half-closed. Though the purple vestments embroidered with gold patterns upon him were magnificent, they only made Zhiyuan appear all the more decrepit.
By contrast, the young Daoist in cyan robes behind Zhiyuan possessed handsome features and a tall, slender frame. Merely standing there, he exuded an aura of calm elegance that drew countless eyes from all around.
Without needing an introduction, Zhang Yunming knew this young Daoist had to be Zhou Wuji—the seventh-rank Daoist who had caused the biggest stir in Yunyang Prefecture of late!
Zhang Yunming had heard plenty of rumors about Zhou Wuji and had always scoffed at the praise heaped upon him.
The fellow was just someone adept at bloodshed. It was one thing to praise his swordsmanship, but puffing him up as a transcendent immortal of lofty grace sounded like nothing more than the branch abbey boasting about one of their own.
Seeing Zhou Wuji in person today, however, even a man like Zhang Yunming had to admit that the fellow was indeed exceptionally handsome and dashing.
For today's grand gathering, Zhang Yunming had deliberately put on a silver hair crown, donning a round-collared brocade robe he rarely wore and cinching his waist with a silver belt. He had considered himself quite suave, yet he could not help feeling completely outmatched beside Zhou Wuji.
It was not a gap in looks or attire, but rather a vast disparity in their presence and bearing.
Zhang Yunming had always been proud and ambitious. He could not comprehend how he could foster the thought that he was so far inferior to Zhou Wuji, or why it made him feel utterly inadequate.
"Third Brother, that's Zhou Wuji, isn't it? He truly is out of the ordinary..." Zhang Yun, who was standing beside Zhang Yunming, sighed softly. "I never really understood the phrase 'standing like a jade tree in the wind.' Only today, seeing Zhou Wuji standing there, does it truly feel like a tree sculpted of white jade, swaying with radiant splendor."
Zhang Yunming glanced at his younger sister and chided in a low voice, "Watch your words."
For an unmarried young woman to comment on a man in public was deeply improper.
What was more, all manner of capable and extraordinary figures were gathered here. If an outsider overheard her, they might think his sister was lovesick! That would thoroughly disgrace the Zhang family.
Zhang Yun harbored no fear of her elder brother. A faint smile graced her face behind her veil, though she did not argue with him.
Her restraint was primarily because their father was right ahead. He was rigid, stern, and placed the utmost weight on proper etiquette; if he caught wind of her words, he would certainly scold her.
"Sister Peng has arrived. I'll go greet her."
Seeing Peng Yuzhen approach surrounded by servants and handmaids, Zhang Yun took two maids with her and went to meet her.
Peng Yuzhen wore a veiled hat today, paired with a cloud-brocade jacket over a cyan horse-face skirt. Her attire was both sumptuous and elegant.
Neither girl had many companions of equal standing at home, and having not seen each other for some time, their reunion was quite affectionate.
"Sister Yuzhen, do you see that young Daoist? That is Zhou Wuji, the one whose fame has been ringing so loud lately!"
Zhang Yun gestured with her eyes, directing Peng Yuzhen to look toward Zhou Wuji.
Following Zhang Yun's gaze, Peng Yuzhen spotted Zhou Wuji at once among the gathered Daoists.
A phrase suddenly crossed her mind: *a crane standing amidst a flock of chickens!*
"He is handsome, isn't he?" Zhang Yun asked in a teasing whisper.
"Ah..." Realizing she had stared a little too long, Peng Yuzhen lowered her gaze in embarrassment and tried to explain, "I have long heard he was brutal and merciless. I never expected him to possess such grace. Truly, one cannot judge a book by its cover."
As the two were speaking, Jin Ying quietly walked up from behind. With a beaming smile, she said, "What are you two whispering about so secretively? Are you talking about Zhou Wuji?"
Jin Ying had charming features. She wore a cyan sleeveless vest over a pleated jacket-skirt, her hair tied in twin topknots. Her wheat-toned complexion was slightly tanned, which gave her a lively, sunny air that made her very approachable.
Peng Yuzhen and Zhang Yun smiled at Jin Ying from behind their veils. Jin Ying's family ran an exchange shop, and behind them was said to be imperial support—far beyond what ordinary merchants could compare to.
Moreover, Jin Ying had a cheerful and outgoing personality, getting along splendidly with Peng Yuzhen and Zhang Yun. They had formed a tight-knit circle.
"Indeed. Mingxiu is always going on about her senior martial brother, and today we've finally seen him in the flesh." Not wanting Peng Yuzhen to feel embarrassed, Zhang Yun said with a smile, "Judging by his looks and bearing alone, he truly does seem quite talented."
Yunyang Prefecture was not small, yet young women whose status, age, family background, and education matched were few.
Their little circle included one more person: Pei Mingxiu, Daoist name Wuming, who was standing beside Zhou Wuji right now.
When they were together, they naturally addressed her as Mingxiu to show closeness.
It was only because Pei Mingxiu had shown off to them that they learned Zhou Wuji excelled at calligraphy, poetry, and music.
Jin Ying widened her eyes and studied Zhou Wuji for a moment, unable to hold back a click of her tongue in admiration. "Sister Mingxiu always said her senior martial brother was like a transcendent being. I never believed her. Only today do I see she wasn't exaggerating in the slightest. Traveling with my father, I've met my fair share of talented youths and heroes, but only today did I learn such an extraordinary figure existed in this world."
Zhang Yun and Peng Yuzhen remained silent, but in their hearts, they thoroughly agreed with Jin Ying's words.
Jin Ying's bright eyes darted about, and she whispered teasingly to Zhang Yun and Peng Yuzhen, "Daoists of the Arctic Sect are permitted to marry and have children..."
"Don't speak so recklessly!" Bold as Zhang Yun was, hearing such talk in a public setting made her feel bashful, warmth rushing to her face.
Peng Yuzhen was even more timid, wishing she could cover her ears and pretend she hadn't heard a thing, yet her heart thumped wildly against her ribs...
Jin Ying let out an awkward chuckle, not daring to say more.
Her mouth had slipped, and the moment the words left her lips, she knew they were inappropriate. There were far too many people around; if any elder overheard, it would spell serious trouble.
Fortunately, they were thirty to forty paces away from the stone stele. The terrace was densely packed, and everyone was speaking in hushed murmurs, creating a low buzz of noise.
Surrounded by handmaids and matrons, it was unlikely anyone could hear them.
What Jin Ying could never have guessed was that Zhou Wuji, the very subject of their teasing gossip, heard every word.
It was mostly because the women's gazes were utterly undisguised. Even when others stole glances at him, they rarely stared so directly. More importantly, all three were stunning beauties.
Deep within Zhou Wuji's brow, his Heart Mirror reflected every shift in his internal and external surroundings at all times.
The moment Zhou Wuji felt a stirring of perception, the Heart Mirror reflected the women's conversation clearly into his awareness.
Through their veiled hats, he could not make out the two women's faces completely, but he could discern a general outline. Given their figures, poise, and diction, they certainly would not look bad.
Zhou Wuji kept his expression impassive, but inwardly he felt quite smug. These young ladies certainly had discerning eyes!
Still, he knew full well that the reason others found his presence so extraordinary was primarily his immense divine sense and the fact that he had cultivated the Northern Dipper Celestial Pivot Scripture to completion.
Even though his cultivation realm was still modest, he already possessed a hint of an unblemished, transcendent aura.
Zhou Wuji did not merely pay attention to the young women; he also observed what others thought of him and what they were discussing.
Most assessments of him were favorable, even if they mostly stayed on the superficial level of his handsome face and noble bearing.
A few whispered about his astonishing swordsmanship, yet none mentioned how much effort he had contributed to the Five Dragons Gang affair. Clearly, the Pacification Office had deliberately suppressed that news.
Moreover, Abbot Zhiyuan did not want him standing in the limelight, so the branch abbey had done nothing to publicize his achievements either.
Aside from a few young women captivated by his looks, most people still felt his reputation was somewhat inflated.
This was only natural. After all, his rise had been too meteoric, and the Zhang family did not wish to see him gain renown.
In this world, one needed endorsements from heavyweight figures of sufficient stature to truly cement their standing.
Observing his surroundings through the Heart Mirror, Zhou Wuji gained an accurate assessment of his own standing in Yunyang Prefecture: famous, but not famous enough, and far from comparable to the prestige and authority of the older generation of experts.
Not that Zhou Wuji cared much about fame itself. He was not a vain person; he simply recognized that renown was exceedingly useful.
"Senior Martial Brother, that is Prefect Peng Yue. The Peng family is a prominent clan in Chu Prefecture, quite renowned..."
Unaware that Zhou Wuji had been letting his mind wander, Wuming warmly introduced the figures to him.
Zhou Wuji had spotted Peng Yue as well. Among the crowd, only Peng Yue wore a round-collared cyan official robe, a black gauze hat, and a leather belt around his waist, instantly recognizable as the highest-ranking local magistrate.
According to the current dynasty's sumptuary laws, officials of the seventh to fifth ranks wore cyan, adorned with silver-flower leather belts.
Peng Yue's belt bore no silver flowers, making his attire appear rather austere. He had a square-jawed face, thick eyebrows, and a solemn expression, exuding considerable authority.
Accompanying Peng Yue was Zhang Shiheng. This Pacification Office battalion commander also wore a cyan brocade robe and an official wide-brimmed hat, with a long saber at his waist. His expression was stern and his gaze sharp as lightning, far more plainly dressed than he had been at Yunjiang Tower.
The presence of Yunyang Prefecture's highest civil and military officials showed the immense gravity of this sacrificial rite.
As was customary, Peng Yue addressed the assembly, then led everyone in bowing three times to the dragon stele. An attendant came forward and presented a black silk scroll inscribed with prayers.
Holding the silk aloft with both hands, Peng Yue chanted in a clear, resonant voice, "We pray for the Dragon Lord's protection, that winds and rain come in season, and that the five grains yield in abundance..."
Once the prayer was read, Peng Yue cast the silk scroll into the river. Others then lifted the ox, pig, and sheep, heaving them one by one into the waters...
The entire sacrificial ritual was elaborate and tedious. This was Zhou Wuji's first time witnessing an official ritual offering to a deity, and it was broadly similar to the rites of the Arctic Sect.
He asked Wuming in a low voice, "What is the origin of this Dragon Lord sacrifice?"
"Rumor has it that a Five-Colored Dragon God resides in the Jiuyuan River, overseeing the three main rivers and all their tributaries. The Five Dragons Gang claimed to have inherited the Five-Colored Dragon God's legacy, which is how they rose to power so quickly..."
Wuming recounted the legend of the Five-Colored Dragon God, though she did not know much about it either and could only provide a rough outline.
Zhou Wuji nodded. He truly hadn't known that the Five Dragons Gang had ties to this dragon deity.
Watching the bustling sacrificial ceremony, an unbidden thought suddenly surfaced in his mind: all the key figures of Yunyang Prefecture were gathered here. If a powerful expert from the demonic sects showed up and wiped them out in one fell swoop, Yunyang Prefecture's entire administrative structure would be utterly destroyed.
Then again, would a demonic expert dare act so recklessly?! Even if they wished to run amok, there was no need to pick Yunyang Prefecture.
Zhou Wuji's thoughts churned, and another crucial point occurred to him: the city of Yunyang was completely empty right now. If someone wished to stir up trouble, now was the prime opportunity.
*Such as breaking someone out of prison...*
Just as this thought crossed Zhou Wuji's mind, a monk in yellow robes stepped out from behind Abbot Xinjue across from him.
The monk was tall and broad, with thick eyebrows, tiger-like eyes, and a purplish-red complexion. He stood more than a head taller than those around him, exuding an imposing aura that truly mirrored the wrathful glare of a vajra guardian.
Zhou Wuji remembered this monk. His Buddhist name was Yuan'an, a seventh-rank warrior monk and one of the Golden Leaf Temple's Four Great Vajras.
He possessed formidable bones and a towering build, his features etched with fierce valor that made him unforgettable at first sight.
Seeing Yuan'an, Zhou Wuji felt this fellow bore some resemblance to his own thickheaded disciple.
Watching Yuan'an stride forward so abruptly, he knew the monk was undoubtedly looking to cause trouble, yet he could not help wanting to laugh.
Yuan'an had already been glaring at Zhou Wuji. Seeing the slight curl of Zhou Wuji's lips as if sneering at him, his fury flared.
In truth, Yuan'an's sudden advance drew the eyes of everyone present.
Several hundred people attending the sacrifice opened their eyes wide, staring at Yuan'an.
Zhiyuan guessed the monk's intention. He shot a glance at Xinjue beside him, wanting to sigh but holding it back.
Xinjue gave Zhiyuan a slight nod, offering no words.
Both Peng Yue and Zhang Shiheng turned their gazes toward Yuan'an. On such a solemn sacrificial occasion, a seventh-rank warrior monk's status was far too low to warrant stepping forward to speak.
Yuan'an pressed his palms together, bowed, and recited a Buddhist chant before saying respectfully, "Your Honor, Commander, this poor monk has heard that Daoist Wuji of Yunlong Branch Abbey possesses peerless martial arts.
"Today is an auspicious day to sacrifice to the Dragon Lord, and the worthy talents of the prefecture are gathered here. This poor monk wishes to seize this opportunity to request a few pointers from Daoist Wuji..."
Chapter 105