Chapter Ninety-Four: Dancing to the Flute, the Mythical Bird Takes Flight

After the gentle energy of the so-called Supreme Goodness of Water Art swept through his body, cleansing the sword energy within, every inch of his skin felt utterly refreshed. At times, it was like being caressed by a spring breeze; at others, as if basking in the warmth of the sun. The comfort was beyond words. When the searing pain inside him finally vanished, the cold sweat that had drenched his back also evaporated under the influence of that tranquil energy.

“Thank you, elder, for assisting me again and again,” Bai Mu turned slowly, his manner gentle and polite as he cupped his hands in gratitude.

“No need,” the middle-aged Fan Sheng replied with an easy wave of his hand. “You’re still too young after all, and a bit impetuous in your ways.” He continued, “Your grievous wounds haven’t healed yet. In your weakened state, that Azure Dragon sword energy inside you could erupt at any moment, tearing through your meridians inch by inch. Even though you once consumed a Human-shaped Ganoderma to cleanse your muscles and bones, over time, you still won’t be able to withstand the sword energy and may lose your life.”

“I understand everything you’re saying, sir.” Bai Mu glanced at Fan Sheng’s square face, shaking his head with a wry smile. “But Ling Yan’s situation is so dire. I have to gather the Red Lotus and save her as soon as possible…”

“No, no.” Fan Sheng’s face darkened, and he quickly interrupted, “I know full well that saving a life is like fighting a fire. But to do a good job, you must first sharpen your tools. Preparations beforehand are sometimes even more important than the action itself.”

“I know…” Bai Mu lowered his head, muttering dispiritedly, “It’s all my fault for being too lazy, never truly applying myself to Master’s teachings. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be so useless at such a crucial moment.”

“This isn’t your fault, and the two aren’t necessarily connected.” Looking at the self-reproach etched on the young man’s face, the sorrow between his brows and eyes unexpectedly softened Fan Sheng’s heart—a heart that had lain dormant for tens of thousands of years. To his own surprise, he felt moved.

His thick eyebrows relaxed as he comforted Bai Mu with a gentle smile: “Since Bifang, by some twist of fate, brought you both to Cold Abyss Valley, and since I have long been friends with Ling Yan’s father, it is only natural that I help you.”

“Stay here in the valley and rest for three days. During that time, I will teach you four forms of my sword art.”

“With just these four forms, combined with my Supreme Goodness of Water Art, you’ll be able to fully cleanse and harmonize the Azure Dragon sword energy within you, making it all your own. Then, when you set out for the Southern Wilds to fetch the Fiery Red Lotus, you’ll have twice the result for half the effort!”

“Is this truly so, elder?” Hearing that this mysterious master, whose power was unfathomable and who was even a friend of the Heavenly Emperor, intended to impart his sword art, Bai Mu’s earlier gloom was swept away. It was as if, lost and adrift on a dark sea, he had suddenly found a brilliant lighthouse illuminating the way home.

“Indeed.” Fan Sheng smiled softly and said in a clear voice, “I can only teach you the four forms, which will help you harmonize the Azure Dragon sword energy. As for the rest of my sword art, I am not at liberty to bestow it all upon you. After all, from your words and actions, I gather you do have a master. If I were to teach you everything, it would seem as though I were stealing another’s disciple.”

“To receive four forms of your sword art and the Supreme Goodness of Water Art is already a life-changing favor. How could I possibly covet all your immortal techniques?” Bai Mu replied with honest warmth, though inwardly he was secretly delighted. He thought of how he had journeyed thousands of miles to Mount Floating Jade to seek a master, only to stumble by chance into Cold Abyss Valley and meet an even greater sage willing to teach him peerless skills. Truly, he had searched high and low, only to find what he sought with no effort at all.

“It seems my judgment was correct—I did not misread your potential,” Fan Sheng said with a slight change of tone. “Tomorrow morning, come with me to the waterfall pool behind the plum grove. There, I’ll teach you the Supreme Goodness of Water Art. Three days later, I’ll send Bifang with you when you leave the valley for the wild lands of the south to seek the ancient Fiery Red Lotus.”

“Yes!” Bai Mu nodded as calmly as he could, though inwardly he was overjoyed.

He recalled how, after being wounded at the Hall of the Returning Void, he had lamented his ill fortune, hunted and slandered at every turn upon entering the wilds. With the appearance of Patriarch Grey Crane, he’d feared his life would end on that mountain.

Yet now, three days later, not only had he survived, but he had found a peerless master in Fan Sheng from whom to learn sword arts, filling the gap left by his defeat at the Hall of the Returning Void. What thrilled him most was that this seemingly aloof middle-aged man—judging by his status and connections—might not be any lesser than Bai Mu’s own master, Bai Ze. After all, how many besides the ancient deities could claim friendship with the Heavenly Emperor himself?

That night, clutching the Azure Dragon Sword, Bai Mu lay on his bamboo cot in the plumwood hut, his mind replaying every moment from the past few days.

The thought that, come morning, he would learn sword arts from this enigmatic ancient deity filled his heart with irrepressible joy. Yet as Ling Yan’s deathly pale face flashed through his mind, a dull ache welled up inside him.

She had protected him all the way to the Hall of the Returning Void. Now that her life hung by a thread, it was finally his turn to fight for her. A mix of nervousness and anticipation surged in his chest.

At dawn the next day, as the first light touched the world, Bifang’s piercing cry split the sky outside the cottage’s small window, accompanied by the distant, melodious notes of a flute drifting toward Bai Mu.

Yet today’s melody was somehow different from that of yesterday. The tune he’d heard before had been tinged with desolation and longing, a song of sorrow and yearning. This morning’s music, however, was crisp, lively, filled with vibrant life—even Bai Mu, who had no ear for music, felt his heart suddenly clear and bright.

On a sudden impulse, he flipped from his bed, grasped the sacred Azure Dragon Sword, and strode from the hut, alighting lightly on the open ground among the trees.

There, Bifang was already dancing to the rhythm, flames flickering about its body in the dawn light, the golden glow making it seem ethereal. Its movements were so graceful and spirited that it was impossible to associate this creature with the fierce beast of legend.

Watching Bifang’s spinning form, the excited gleam in its brownish-yellow eyes and at the corners of its beak, Bai Mu’s spirits soared. As the flute’s melody reached its peak, he found himself unconsciously chanting along with the tune:

“Outside the grove, a few plum blossoms bloom,
Spring waters warm and birds sing first,
In the southern wilds, April’s fragrance fades,
Yet in Cold Abyss, the plum is just at its prime.
Oft I grieve that spring’s return is nowhere to be found,
Little did I know, it has come right here.”