Chapter Sixty-One: Fang Qingyan (Part Two)

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Yang Nan nodded and said, “Miss Yu, you are indeed attentive. Yang Da, Yang Er, stop kneeling on the ground. Hurry up and come with me to Kunlun Mountain to seek some answers.”

Though this wife arrived unexpectedly, she sacrificed herself for him and was arranged by his grandfather. Yang Nan had no reason to refuse. Although he was indifferent to love, he was not heartless; how could he not be moved?

The two servants were overjoyed. Now that the young madam had been found, the charge of dereliction of duty they bore could finally be lifted. How could they not be joyful?

Yang Nan immediately summoned the Golden Peak Roc, ordering it to carry him and the two servants to Kunlun Mountain.

On Qingluan Peak, a young woman was slowly walking along the mountain path, carrying a pair of water buckets. Mist drifted through the mountains, and the path was rugged and difficult. The water buckets weighed over a hundred pounds, pressing heavily on her shoulders. Yet her face remained calm and composed as she gripped the ropes tightly, stepping steadily upward. Along the roadside, flowers bloomed profusely and spiritual beasts leapt about, the scenery was breathtakingly beautiful. But this woman was focused entirely on the path beneath her feet. The long mountain trail stretched behind her like a never-ending rope.

“Fang Qingyan, Senior Brother Jing has orders: Master Brother commands you to hasten to the Martial Virtue Hall!” A registered disciple dressed in white Daoist robes hurried down the mountain, calling to her.

Fang Qingyan lifted her elegant face, a hint of confusion in her eyes. “Senior Brother Jing, what does Master Brother want with me? I haven’t even carried the eighteen buckets of training water today.”

The registered disciple rushed anxiously, snatching the bucket from her shoulder. “Ah, why are you still carrying training water? Our Kunlun Sect’s troublemaker has arrived. If he doesn’t see you immediately, and he gets angry, even Master Brother won’t be safe! Hurry up!”

“Troublemaker? Who is he? He wants to see me?” Fang Qingyan grew more puzzled, anxiously pondering, then added, “Senior Brother Jing, if he’s so fierce, wouldn’t it be better if I just didn’t meet him...”

The disciple grew more urgent, grabbing her hand and pulling her up the mountain, saying, “The troublemaker is our little Grandmaster. He slaughtered countless monsters in the Seventy-Two Demon Valleys and drove three founding ancestors and several uncles of the sect down the mountain. He even has a Great Grandmaster backing him. Do you think he’s someone you can refuse? Hurry and go see him!”

‘Is it him?’ Fang Qingyan’s heart skipped a beat. She immediately thought of the calm, refined, and ethereal man in the Seventy-Two Demon Valleys. Why would he suddenly want to see her today?

“Brother, please slow down. I’ve only practiced martial arts for a few months and really can’t keep up.” Fang Qingyan panted, unable to go on, pleading softly.

The disciple, seeing her delicate frame and weakness, stopped and smiled gently. “Sorry, sister. I forgot you just arrived a little over a month ago. For a woman to endure the Seven Trials and Seven Calamities of the Immortal Path is remarkable. Well, since the Grandmaster is here, we’re not in a rush. We’ll take it slow.”

Fang Qingyan bowed her head. “Thank you for your understanding. I’ll rest a moment.”

The disciple noticed her rosy cheeks and gentle breathing, a flicker of emotion stirring within him. Suddenly he asked, “Sister, if you cannot become an outer disciple in three years, what will you do?”

In Kunlun, registered disciples must master martial arts within three years or descend from the mountain. But mastering such skills in three years is rare.

Fang Qingyan shook her head, a resolute look on her face. “I must become an outer disciple! I...” She wanted to say more but stopped herself, blushing deeply, her neck flushed with a radiant glow.

The disciple sighed. “Sister, the Immortal Path is harsh. If fate is not favorable, mastering supreme martial arts is still a blessing. Not everyone can learn the immortal arts. You shouldn’t have too high hopes... But if... if you are willing...”

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Fang Qingyan was pure and wise, sensing Brother Jing’s intentions. She hurried to say, “Before I ascended the mountain, I already have a husband. Even if I cannot master the immortal arts, I will return to Qingming Mountain in the Southern Continent to guard my husband’s spirit tablet and uphold my virtue.”

Seeing her solemn expression and noble ambition, the registered disciple deeply respected her. “Sister, I apologize for my forwardness. Since you sincerely seek the path, perhaps one day you will become our uncle or even a founding ancestor! When the immortal and mortal worlds diverge, sister, you must look after me.”

Fang Qingyan’s face blossomed like a flower. “Brother, you flatter me. If Heaven grants me favor to fulfill this wish, that alone suffices. I dare not hope to become an immortal.”

The disciple thought to himself, ‘Why does sister insist on fulfilling her wish here on Kunlun Mountain? How strange...’

As they spoke, the Martial Virtue Hall on Qingluan Peak came into view. The disciple warned, “Be careful what you say. Though this Grandmaster looks young, he once challenged a sect master as a military expert and did not lose. He’s called the troublemaker because he always smiles but is ruthless beneath. Don’t offend him.”

Fang Qingyan, seeing how even her senior brother feared this young immortal, quietly smiled to herself. Since this wasn’t their first meeting, she was no longer nervous and nodded lightly in understanding.

They entered the vast Martial Virtue Hall where Master Brother Zhao Ziyang respectfully invited Yang Nan to the main seat, carefully explaining various martial arts schools, styles, and specialties. Yang Nan, having witnessed Grandmaster Yang Lan’s terrifying martial skills, abandoned his previous disdain and humbly sought Master Brother’s guidance.

The pinnacle of martial arts relies entirely on personal insight. Legend says the human body has 108 acupoints; if one can open them all with supreme strength, true energy flows freely, the body becomes sacred, and one attains the rank of martial immortal. Thus, the saying that the martial path leads to divinity is well-founded.

Physical acupoints differ from spiritual ones; the former are throughout the body, while the latter reside in the soul—two entirely different things.

In the primordial era, immortal arts were rare. Ancient immortals mostly excelled in martial arts. Many reached divinity through martial practice. Over time, as the world changed, cultivation methods evolved, and martial classics declined. Today, sects flourish again, but martial arts have waned.

The military sect’s methods blend martial and magical arts, combining mystic transformations with martial prowess. Registered disciples study martial arts as their foundation, a painstaking effort by past sect leaders.

Yang Nan, never a registered disciple, conversed enthusiastically with Master Brother Zhao Ziyang about various histories. His gentle speech, refined demeanor, and humble attitude hardly matched the image of a troublemaker—instead, he appeared a man of the Way.

Those serving nearby were secretly amazed. Even Master Brother Zhao was puzzled. Though young, this Grandmaster’s mastery of the Dao was astonishing. As the sect’s leader, he seldom visited Qingluan Peak. Today’s visit was solely for a registered disciple—truly rare.

Yet, with the Grandmaster’s arrival, the disciples must serve him wholeheartedly.

While Yang Nan chatted with Zhao Ziyang, Fang Qingyan entered the hall with her guide. Upon seeing Yang Nan, they all bowed in unison, respectfully greeting, “Disciple pays respects to Grandmaster!”

Bang! Bang!

Behind Yang Nan, Yang Da and Yang Er shattered their tea bowls and rushed into the hall to support Fang Qingyan, weeping bitterly. “Young Madam, we have finally found you... If anything had happened to you, how could we face the late Duke in the underworld?” After months of searching, seeing their lady safe relieved them immensely, tears mingled with joy and sorrow.

Fang Qingyan’s beautiful eyes widened, amazed and delighted. “Yang Da, Yang Er! How are you here?” She glanced at Yang Nan and then at the two servants, unable to understand the connection between them.

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The two servants wiped their tears and joyfully said in unison, “Young Madam, we found the Young Master! The Young Master is...”

“They’re talking about me, naturally,” Yang Nan said softly, setting down his teacup and descending the steps. “I am Yang Nan, grandson of the founding Duke Yang Pu and son of Nanyang Prefect Yang Yuan. Qingyan, it is my fault we did not recognize each other sooner...” He looked at the woman whose delicate palms were bloodied from rope burns yet whose face remained gentle and dignified. A deep respect blossomed within him, and his voice softened unconsciously.

‘He... he is Yang Nan?’ Fang Qingyan’s heart pounded wildly. She had searched across a thousand miles only to find him here. After a long moment, she gathered herself and gazed upon Yang Nan’s refined and handsome face. A thousand tangled thoughts surged within her, but all she could whisper was, “Qingyan... pays respects to her husband...”

No matter how strong she was, recalling those trials stirred a profound ache within her heart. She knelt, tears streaming silently, refusing to utter a sound of sorrow.

Yang Da and Yang Er, seeing their young madam’s expression, shared her joy and sadness, quickly supporting her. Yang Nan, seeing her flushed and tearful, felt a wave of tenderness. He sighed and said, “An ancient poem says: ‘Seeking her thousands of times, suddenly turning back, she is there in the dim light.’ Qingyan, you must blame me...”

Though this wife came suddenly, she was bound by their grandfather’s decree and the matchmaker’s arrangements. She had endured countless hardships; if not for extraordinary luck, she might have been devoured by sea demons or violated by mountain spirits. Knowing her ordeal, Yang Nan felt deeply guilty.

Fang Qingyan saw his remorse and gently said, “Qingyan would never blame you. If I had not been reckless, I would not have suffered. But I bear my grandfather’s trust to carry on the Yang family line. Knowing you were alive, I could not wait for decades on Qingming Mountain. If you blame anyone, blame me.”

When she spoke of “carrying on the family line,” she wiped away her tears and blushed deeply.

Yang Nan couldn’t fault her. Such a knowledgeable, strong-willed woman was rare indeed. Besides, all these troubles were caused by the old man, not her.

If Yang Nan had spent decades learning the Dao on Kunlun Mountain, how could he have continued the family line? By then, Qingyan would have been an old woman.

With their grandfather’s orders and the heavy responsibility of continuing the lineage, it was no wonder she came so far seeking him.

Yang Nan smiled gently. “Very well, this is no one’s fault. If Heaven has a will, we thank it. Now, rise quickly.”

Fang Qingyan saw the difference in his expression from their first meeting, a hint of pity within, and quietly responded, “I obey.”

Yang Nan had Yang Da and Yang Er help her to the side, then turned to the stunned Master Brother Zhao Ziyang and smiled, “Ziyang, my wife has stayed here many days. Thank you for your care. These bottles contain Essence Yang Pills made from spiritual herbs of Spirit Beast Mountain. Their energy is excellent and beneficial for cultivation. Please accept them as a token of my gratitude.”

Zhao Ziyang, who had been listening nervously, was relieved. This troublemaker’s wife had become a junior sister under his care. Fortunately, no offense had been made; otherwise, this gentle Grandmaster might have gifted him not pills but a staff strike of three hundred!

He and the other disciples could only think: “How fortunate... truly fortunate...” Yet, despite Yang Nan’s great reputation, they still felt a chill run down their spines.