Chapter 120 Xiaoyue (2/2)
”Brother Xiao, come! Meet Master Xuan Ji of the Wuyin Monastery,” Yu Yifeng introduced with a smile.
Xiao Chen bowed to them, placing his palms together before his chest. ”My respects to you, Master Xuan Ji.” Xiao Chen could not help but suspect if this was an assembly of the Immortal's Practice. Even those of Buddhist sects were here, he thought, and this Xuan Ji monk wielded considerable powers himself.
The reserved Xuan Ji merely nodded with a gentle smile in response. Xu Gu chanted another ”Amitabha” and began addressing Xiao Chen. ”It is fated that we should meet again, Master Xiao. You should reconsider my offer of joining our order...”
Xiao Chen's head jerked upwards. ”Look at the weather!” Xiao Chen exclaimed on a feeble attempt to change the subject to the climate, ”The sky is dry, and the sun is bright with no clouds to menace us with rain and storm...”
Xu Gu giggled. ”You jest, Master Xiao,” he said, ”I see not the sun hanging over us today...”
As the light-hearted chaffing continued, the company slowly shuffled to an empty table close to the dais. Master Xuan Ji of the Wuyin Monastery evidently commanded much respect from his colleagues, as many leaders and chiefs tendered their greetings to him with reverence.
Less than half an hour later, a rosy-cheeked elder with beards of snowy-white ambled up the dais. He addressed the crowd of guests with a warm smile. ”Welcome, everyone! As you all know, we gather here today at the summons of the Thousand Feathers Sect, the remnants of the Ancient Immortal Clan, for a meeting of all following and schools of the Orthodox Path. In addition, with everyone here today as witnesses, we would commence the execution of a demoness that we had apprehended two months ago...”
He had barely finished, when voices from below the dais rang, ”I say, Master Sikong! Surely this is no sham this time? The last time you caught a demoness, it turned out to be a common woman whose grievances had even bothered the emperor who blamed you for badgering the public!”
A round of laughing jeers rose like a tide from the seated guests, as Sikong Yun's fresh cheeks grew redder still with chagrin while ridicules and scornful mockery were pelted upon his gnarly self. He feigned a loud cough to regain the attention of the crowd. ”Err... It was my mistake the last time. But this time we are positive...”
The raucous laughter took some time to die down and another voice spoke, ”You mentioned that this meeting was called at the behest of the Thousand Feathers Sect. Where are they? The night is upon us, Master Sikong. Surely this not a farce with a phony token with feathers plucked from birds?”
Sikong Yun's cheeks burned bright-red as he managed a weak smile. ”You just love teasing me, Junior Hu,” he croaked hoarsely, ”I would never dare to forge a fake Thousand Feathers Mark...”
His frail voice was suddenly swept by a hollow voice that seemed to echo from the distant horizon, ”I am Omnipresent, Omnipresence is Me; I have long arrived...”
The unearthly voice thundered from nowhere and everywhere, hollow and deep, yet angelic and divine at the same time, ringing in the ears of everyone seated around. The voice resonated strongly with everyone's inner spirits; some male disciples began to writhe and melt, stirring passionately at the beautiful and melodious voice as if the kingdom of Heaven had come.
Standing under the plaque bearing the name of the stronghold of the Widespread Wintriness Sect was the lanky figure of a young woman. With every movement, her figure shimmered, leaving a cascade of her illusion spilling in her wake as she walked with the grace of a swan, stepping onto the dais and beheld the crowd before her.
Hers was a beauty that no other women possessed; an allure that would make all men swoon with desire for. Her coal-black hair was pulled back into a tail behind her back and her sparkling eyes, distant and captivating like the stars in the twilight sky above them, made her all the more a fairy among mortals. Clad in a dress of emerald green, she held in her grasp what seemed to be a horse-tail whisk, was in fact a sword; a weapon which magnificence was contained in the sheath in which the sword rested.
There she stood, a prima donna with equal opulence to the moon; her form slender and lithe, mirroring the grace of a willow tree; her skin fair and pure as the white of first snow, and her serene elegance, as calm as a gentle brook in the fall. Scores of men were deeply mesmerized by her as those handsome and dashing watched her with longing in their gazes, while those who look common and haggard felt their confidence withered, averting their eyes away with abashment.
Even as the host and leader of this stronghold, Sikong Yun could hardly resist being respectful to her. ”Lady Xiaoyue,” he addressed her, his head dipping slightly with awe.
This was Xiaoyue, the renowned prodigy of the Thousand Feathers Sect whose fame was hardly unknown. Scarcely twenty years of age, she was rumored to command powers that even eclipsed that of her own teacher, Perfected Immortal Su Nian.
Xiaoyue nodded imperceptibly in acknowledgment, her expression calm and emotionless like a pool of still waters. Like her name, one could only stare at her as how one would gaze upon the moon, distant and aloof.
Xiao Chen's stare was transfixed upon her. Noticing this, Yu Yifeng whispered to him, ”This is the student of the Perfected Immortal Su Nian, the leader of the Thousand Feathers Sect.”
Xiao Chen made no reply. His eyes remained riveted on the figure standing atop the podium, his hands now slick with a layer of sweat. He would have thought that this young woman and Qianyu Nishang were one and the same, if not for the difference in appearance. The aura and the poise that she exuded greatly resembled the Qianyu Nishang of old. Both were similar, if not equal, in the divine splendor that percolated from their sacred persons like goddesses from Heaven.
Thousand Feathers Sect? Was this indeed the order that Qianyu Nishang had founded with her own hands after eschewing herself from the Mystic Cyan Sect? But why did her Thousand Feathers Sect endured, while the Mystic Cyan Sect was now ruined and devastated?
Xiaoyue stood proudly atop the platform. Even though the crowd, she felt his stare, sensing that he was different from anyone else present. She looked at him, nodding gently to him.
Just then, a group of five strode up to the center aisle; the leader was a beautiful lady in white, whose eminence and stature was no less remarkable herself, flanked by two pairs of male and female disciples.
Xiao Chen looked intently at the group of newcomers. He had never expected that Xuanyue, Princess of Zhou State to be present. She too, had noticed his presence although she made no indication of it. She paced straight towards the platform, stopping at the bottom of the steps leading up. With the four of young men and women behind her, they bowed and greeted, ”Senior Sister.”
That explained it, Xiao Chen mused. He had always felt a whiff of familiarity from Xuanyue. Her identity as one of the disciples of Thousand Feathers Sect lent much credence as to why he had seen a lot of Qianyu Nishang in her.
However, this would refute the claims that Xuanyue was the heir of the Ancient Immortal Clan. She was, at most, an Outer Disciple of the Thousand Feathers Sect. Rather, Xiaoyue possessed the stock and heritage to be acclaimed as the progeniture to the demised ancient caste of Immortals. Barely reaching twenty, Xiaoyue wielded powers and strength outshining any of her peers while cementing the rumors that she would inherit the keys to the Sect in the near future. Across the landscape of the Orthodox Path, the elder generations addressed her as ”Lady Xiaoyue”, while the younger crop of students and disciples looked to her as ”Fairy Xiaoyue”.