Canglong Temple.
After finishing dinner, Zhou Wuji had originally intended to return to his room to cultivate, but Wuming dragged him outside for a stroll.
The Daoist temple was situated on the southern slope of Mount Huamei. The sunlit hillside was covered in emerald bamboo, and at the temple's western corner stood an osmanthus grove.
In the tenth month, the trees were laden with snow-white osmanthus blooms. Whenever the wind stirred, a rich, heady fragrance drifted through the entire temple, clinging to one's robes.
Wuming had wandered through the grove several times already. Having finally waited until Zhou Wuji returned, she eagerly took hold of him to walk together.
A half-moon had just risen, casting faint light that left the grove rather dim. At a glance, the profusion of blossoms looked like swirling snow filling the sky, while the branches and trunks were hidden from view, lending the scene a distinct and captivating charm.
Strolling side by side with Wuming through the grove of flowers, Zhou Wuji felt that the faint, sweet scent emanating from the jade-like beauty beside him far surpassed the fragrance of the osmanthus.
He silently lamented that the sleeves of their Daoist robes were too wide and loose, making it quite inconvenient to hold hands.
After walking for a while, Wuming found a protruding boulder and sat down. Looking at Zhou Wuji with bright, sparkling eyes, she asked softly, "Senior Brother, do you like the flute? May I play a tune for you?"
"Of course," Zhou Wuji replied. Naturally, he was more than happy to see a beauty showcase her talents.
Wuming's cheeks flushed slightly. This was the first time she had ever taken the initiative to play for someone, and her heart was filled with both joy and bashfulness.
From her sleeve, she produced a seven-holed jade flute crafted from prime white jade. Its texture was warm and lustrous, and its length was exactly one chi.
Though Zhou Wuji was hardly an expert, he could tell at a glance that this jade flute was worth a considerable fortune.
To casually carry three Northern Culmen Heavenly Dipper Divine Talismans—she truly was the daughter of a wealthy family.
Just then, a beam of moonlight filtered through the flowers and leaves, shining squarely upon Wuming's azure lapel and the jade flute.
Under the gentle moonlight, the jade flute gleamed with a tender luster, yet it could not compare to the soft rosy lips playing it.
Completely unaware of what Zhou Wuji was thinking, Wuming raised the jade flute and began to play.
The melodious, pure notes sounded like birds flitting joyously through the trees, soaring high one moment and circling low the next.
It was also like a young maiden lightly dancing in the woods, her graceful, enchanting figure so airy and nimble.
Though Zhou Wuji did not know much about music, he could clearly discern the buoyant, fluttering delight within the tune.
*Does Wuming really see me as her sweetheart? Or am I misinterpreting it?*
He might misread the music, but he could never mistake the tender, radiant affection rippling in her gaze.
When the piece concluded, Wuming held the jade flute and looked up at Zhou Wuji, her bright eyes filled with anticipation, plainly waiting for his assessment.
Zhou Wuji lightly clapped his hands in praise. "I know little of music, yet it felt as if birds were darting through the forest before soaring straight into the heavens. The mood was lively and joyful, yet lofty, wondrous, and pure."
"Senior Brother is truly my kindred spirit! This tune, 'Flying Partridges,' expresses precisely the joy of birds soaring freely…"
Seeing that Zhou Wuji had genuinely understood, Wuming was overjoyed. Her jade flute had truly found someone who appreciated it!
Zhou Wuji softly recited:
"A grove of soft white charms in the bright moon's glow,
Bone-deep drifts the rich osmanthus scent.
Fit for the Mysterious Maiden playing her jade flute,
While the moon floats in the southern sky, shining on azure robes."
Wuming had studied Daoist scriptures since childhood and was only moderately versed in poetry.
She could not tell whether the verse was technically refined or clumsy, but she could broadly understand that Senior Brother Wuji was praising her as being like the Mysterious Maiden, and saying she looked beautiful while playing the jade flute.
Zhou Wuji had simply cobbled the poem together on the fly. Ever since his awakening, the memories of his previous life had grown clearer and clearer.
In his past life, the internet had existed, and he had seen and heard far too many things. Whenever he wished, he could recall those memories at will.
This poem was no exception.
He had tested the waters before and confirmed that Wuming was only half-knowledgeable in such matters.
One could not fool an expert, and someone completely ignorant would find it boring.
Wuming was caught right in the middle—half-understanding—which made her easiest to impress.
Sure enough, Wuming was deeply moved and overjoyed. She felt that Senior Brother Wuji not only understood music but also understood her, and had even composed a poem especially for her!
Her eyes shone as she looked straight at him, filled with open admiration and affection.
Yet she soon lowered her gaze and said softly with a touch of shame, "Senior Brother possesses such great talent, whereas I know nothing at all. I can only play simple tunes and fiddle with flying needles…"
"I didn't compose it myself either; it was merely recorded in an ancient text and borrowed for the occasion."
Suddenly struck by a thought, Zhou Wuji said, "I don't know how to play the flute yet. Could Junior Sister teach me?"
"Senior Brother wants to learn? Yes, absolutely!"
Wuming was delighted to teach him. She loved such intimate interactions, and she also admired his terrifying talent for drawing broad inferences from a single cue. She believed that so long as he wanted to learn, there was nothing he could not master.
"The seven holes are like this. Three fingers on each hand cover them, the lips are shaped like this, leaving an aperture for the embouchure…"
Wuming had Zhou Wuji sit down, then stood before him to guide his hands personally.
At such close quarters and in such intimate contact, even as Wuming explained the techniques of playing, her heart could not help but race, and her cheeks burned fiercely.
Zhou Wuji held the flute in playing position. Yet looking at Wuming right before his eyes and gazing upon her luscious, radiant cheeks, he could not resist saying, "Junior Sister, you are truly beautiful."
Wuming was swept with joy, bashfulness, and fluster all at once. For a moment, she did not know what to say or do, freezing on the spot.
Zhou Wuji did not hold back; leaning forward, he lightly kissed her cheek. It felt remarkably soft and smooth…
Only then did Wuming snap out of her daze. Her face flushed completely crimson, her heart thrown into absolute turmoil. Cupping her burning cheeks in both hands, she turned and fled in a panic.
"Hey…" Zhou Wuji was startled. Why run so fast? Was she going to tattle on him?
He quickly relaxed. In this world, things shouldn't go that far. Besides, Wuming wasn't that sort of person!
From the distance came Wuming's soft, timid voice: "It's too late, Senior Brother… I'm going back to do my evening practice…"
Zhou Wuji replied with an amused chuckle, "See you tomorrow."
Hearing the warmth and laughter in his voice, Wuming also breathed a sigh of relief. Fleeing like that just now, she had genuinely worried that Senior Brother might be angry with her.
***
After fiddling with the jade flute beneath the blossoms for a while, Zhou Wuji could already produce a rough melody.
The most important aspect of playing the flute was breath control. Of course, the breath was not blown directly into the hole, but across its sharp edge—the so-called edge-tone.
Controlling his breath presented no difficulty whatsoever to Zhou Wuji, who had already advanced to Rank 7.
Next came nimble finger technique, coordinating seamlessly with the breath.
With his Tianshu Hand at the level of perfection, using his fingers on a flute was simplicity itself.
It was just that playing the flute also required an understanding of rhythm, tempo, and various techniques for circulating one's breath.
While it was easy for Zhou Wuji to get the hang of it, reaching Wuming's level right away would still take some effort.
After practicing for a bit longer, Zhou Wuji finally stood up. He glanced at the large rock, more than half of which was buried underground; all told, it measured fully five chi across.
In the past, whenever he grew tired from practicing swordsmanship, he often rested on this very stone.
Now, he suddenly felt that the rock was quite neat and solid. Circulating his true qi, he activated the Five Yin Pouch. Five yin spirits transformed into black gauze that enveloped the massive stone. In an instant, the boulder vanished without a trace, leaving behind a pit more than two chi deep in the earth.
Having stowed the rock, Zhou Wuji unhurriedly drew out strands of ice silkworm silk and strung several tripwires through the osmanthus grove.
He chose spots close to the temple's courtyard walls, stringing the lines about three cun above the ground.
If anyone tried to approach the temple through the grove at night, they would be tripped by these lines.
Not stopping there, Zhou Wuji also strung several lines in the backyard and through the bamboo grove to the east.
Now that Wuzheng had ransomed the villagers of Laocang Village, Wu Di would certainly realize that circumstances had changed.
There was no telling what that fellow might pull, or whether Zhang Xinhu would take a desperate gamble.
Even for a Rank 7 martial artist, spotting ice silkworm silk strung across the ground in a pitch-black forest was virtually impossible.
A single snag would produce an unnatural sound, which he ought to be able to hear.
Naturally, Rank 7 martial artists possessed impeccable control over their strength, so the lines might not catch them. But making some preparations in advance was always wise.
At the very least, if he had to flee, he could retreat in this direction, and those few strands might end up serving a vital purpose.
Returning to his room, Zhou Wuji completed his routine cultivation. Opening the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment, he looked at the destiny pattern of three liang and six qian, feeling a bit hesitant.
This was the destiny pattern left behind by the Rank 7 demonic cultivator of the Yin-Yang Dao, the highest-grade destiny pattern he had obtained so far.
The destiny patterns of the other two attendants were barely over two liang, hardly worth mentioning.
On the journey back, Zhou Wuji had been pondering how best to utilize this destiny pattern.
In terms of immediate needs, he naturally wanted to advance his swordsmanship or elevate the Northern Dipper Celestial Pivot Scripture.
If his swordsmanship truly advanced to the realm of Transformation, combined with his Rank 7 true qi and the Northern Culmen Heavenly Dipper Divine Talismans, he ought to be capable of slaying Zhang Xinhu in a direct confrontation.
However, he sensed that this destiny pattern did not carry quite enough weight to push either his sword arts or the Northern Dipper Celestial Pivot Scripture to the next realm.
Other minor techniques could be upgraded, but they held little practical value for advancement.
After turning it over in his mind, Zhou Wuji decided to hold onto this destiny pattern for now. Once he acquired another one of similar caliber, he would be able to advance his swordsmanship.
Emerging from his meditative state, he did not close his eyes to sleep. Instead, fully dressed and holding his sword, he sat quietly upon his meditation cushion.
In truth, he hadn't slept the previous night either, having rested for two shichen during the afternoon instead.
By his calculations, the experts from the lower courtyard should be arriving soon.
For the next few days, he would sleep with his eyes open—staying vigilant and leaving nothing to chance!
Sitting in quiet meditation, Zhou Wuji kept his awareness clear and empty, lingering in a state between sleeping and waking.
Amidst the haze, Zhou Wuji heard a dull *thump*, which instantly snapped him wide awake from his trance.
Chapter 50