INE Chapter 89: Founding a Sect

That day, Chu Changli and Bai Yushuang followed the man who called himself Yue Qianqiu.

Yue Qianqiu had told them, “I want to found a sect, a grand and powerful sect. If you follow me, you’ll never have to worry about food or clothing again. You’ll also be able to cultivate and seek immortality.”

“Will we have steamed buns to eat?” they asked. “Will we have houses to live in?”

“You will,” he said. “You’ll have residences atop several peaks, where the trees stay green all year and the flowers bloom through all seasons.”

“Wow, that must be a really wealthy sect,” they said in awe.

Yue Qianqiu nodded. “But first, we need a patron to fund the founding of our sect.”

In Yue City, the most famous tavern on Baijing Street was The Blossoms' Ballad.

This tavern belonged to the Master of the Plum Manor, and it stood beside the Xuanhe Flying Immortal Bridge, a bridge he had commissioned after the birth of his beloved children.

At sunset, the bridge was always bustling. Scholars and beauties gathered to recite poetry under the moon and sing drunken songs into the night.

As twilight fell, two children in new clothes followed Yue Qianqiu across the Flying Immortal Bridge.

Looking up, they saw fireworks bursting across the sky, painting it with dazzling colors.

Singers stood on the bridge, waving their red sleeves toward someone as they called out, “Young Master Mei! Young Master Mei, please wait!”

Startled, Chu Changli turned at the sound.

Through a sea of elegant ladies, a figure rode by, a tall hat with flowing tassels, draped in red over a light fur robe, mounted on a white horse.

Young Master Mei, astride his fine steed, clasped his hands in greeting to the performers and said with a smile, “The night is long, ladies. I’ll take my leave for now, but we shall meet again another day.”

Such charm was indeed worthy of an entire evening of waving red sleeves.

Young Master Mei of Plum Manor was a roguish soul. Backed by his family’s wealth, he often drank himself into stupors across the taverns of Yue City, always with some unlucky fool picking up the tab.

One day it would be Moonlight Pavilion, the next it would be The Blossoms’ Ballad. Wherever he drank, he would spend the night.

Each time he woke, he’d either be greeted by his stern father or his tearful mother.

To be honest, he was tired of those two ever-watchful deities at home.

But this time, when he awoke, it wasn’t either of them.

Instead, he saw someone clad in the same bright red robe as himself, with two children in topknots standing nearby.

The woman in red looked at him with cool eyes, slightly arched brows, and asked solemnly, “Young Master Mei, or should I say, Miss Mei, would you like to cultivate the Dao?”

The most famously flirtatious man in Yue City was momentarily stunned.

For over ten years, no one had ever known she was a woman. And in all that time, she had never seen a woman as breathtaking as the one before her.

Mei He raised her cup, downed it in one swig, and laughed. “My Dao lies in beauty and wine. But when a beauty extends an invitation, how could I possibly refuse?”

Chu Changli would later come to understand that Mei He was the "patron" Yue Qianqiu had spoken of. She also noticed that Yue Qianqiu seemed quite fond of Mei He. Every time he looked at her, his lips would curve into a small, unbidden smile.

But when he looked at Chu Changli, his expression always turned unreadable and distant, as though lost in thought.

Yue Qianqiu seemed to enjoy picking up strays. Just yesterday, he’d taken in two children. Today, he picked up the young master of Plum Manor.

Two days later, he took Chu Changli for a walk in the city and came upon a mourning songstress selling herself to bury her father.

Clad in mourning white and carrying a qin, her elegance still shone through despite the sorrow.

Yue Qianqiu’s brow furrowed slightly. He took a step forward, then stopped.

He stepped closer to the girl, scrutinizing her face, as though recognizing, or hesitating over, something. Then he asked quietly, “What’s your name?”

The songstress shook her head. “I only know how to play the qin. I don’t have a name.”

“Since you understand music,” he said, “then take two tones from the scale: Gong and Yu.”

“From now on, your name is Gong Yu.”

After picking up Gong Yu, Yue Qianqiu stopped collecting people. Occasionally, though, he’d ask Chu Changli, “When do you think war will break out in the north?”

Chu Changli was stumped. “Master, how would I know when the northern frontier will go to war?”

Yue Qianqiu, finding her useless, turned instead to Mei He. “Is there a girl named Mo Yu in the Feihao Sect?”

Mei He, ever fond of beautiful women, naturally knew. She smiled and replied, “You must mean Mo Yu, the famed beauty of the Feihao Sect? She just came of age a few days ago and was married to General Xu’s son.”

Once he had gathered four disciples, Yue Qianqiu solemnly declared to Mei He, “I want to found a sect. Let’s establish it on Bixue Peak. It’s a tall mountain, you can look down at the sea of clouds whenever you like.”

“As for seniority,” he continued, “though I found Changli and Shuang’er first, they’re still young. They’ll be junior to you and Gong Yu.”

Chu Changli and Bai Yushuang nodded without objection.

“So then, Mei He will be the eldest senior sister. Gong Yu will be second. Between Changli and Shuang’er, whoever is older can be third.”

Chu Changli didn’t know her exact age, but Bai Yushuang was shorter than her, so she said, “I think I’m a little older.”

Yue Qianqiu smiled faintly and said something rather cryptic: “Even if you’re younger, you’d still be third.”

Chu Changli didn’t understand, and couldn’t.

Back at Plum Manor, Mei He took a large sum of money and declared her intent to cultivate immortality. Then she disappeared without a trace. The Plum Manor Master flew into a rage and announced he would disown his wayward child.

Mei He’s older sister, Mei Shu, said nothing when she heard her disappointing younger sibling had gone off to cultivate. But the next day, she too vanished.

The servants said that as Mei Shu left with a pack on her back, she murmured, “If Mei He can cultivate, why can’t I? I’m going to Divine Sect, don’t stop me. For all you know, I might become their Saintess.”

And just like that, the Plum Manor Master’s pair of children were gone.

When the five disciples finally reached Bixue Peak, snow was falling in flurries, blanketing the mountain in scattered jade and crushed pearls.

The place was desolate, with only a few towering peaks and withered trees visible in the distance.

Bai Yushuang tugged on Yue Qianqiu’s sleeve and asked, “Master, where are the houses and flowers you promised?”

“They’ll be here soon.”

“Master, what about the endless food and the evergreen trees?”

“Children really don’t understand anything. With your eldest senior sister around, what’s there to worry about? Food, clothes, trees, she’ll take care of all of it.”

Mei He used the Plum Manor’s money to plant trees, grow flowers, and even dug up bamboo from a neighboring mountain to transplant into their courtyard.

When all was done, she approached Yue Qianqiu and asked him to give their five-person sect a proper name.

Yue Qianqiu pondered for a moment, then said, “Let’s call it the Wanjian Sect.”

Mei He frowned slightly. “Master, doesn’t that sound a bit… cliché? And there’s only five of us right now, doesn’t ‘Wan’ (ten thousand) seem a little exaggerated?”

“This name is chosen with the meaning of ‘All Swords Return to the Sect.’ The more common, the more elegant. Right now, it may seem like just five of us, but in the future, there will be fifty, five hundred, or even five thousand.”

Hearing this, Mei He couldn’t help but smile. “By then, our Wanjian Sect will definitely be the strongest sect in the Central Plains.”

“Yes, there will be such a day.”

One day, after Mei He had finished drinking, and Chu Changli and Bai Yushuang had finished catching crickets, and Gong Yu had buried her father, Yue Qianqiu spoke.

“You all seem so disorganized. How can you be considered inner disciples of my Wanjian Sect?”

Gong Yu hesitated for a moment before asking, “Master, do we have outer disciples in our sect?”

Yue Qianqiu fell silent.

After that day, Yue Qianqiu began writing sword techniques.

It’s said that she didn’t want to see her own handwriting, so she taught Mei He first and then had Mei He copy it.

This sword manual was called "Silent Mountains and Rivers" and contained eighty-eight forms. According to Yue Qianqiu, this was the foundational sword style for sword cultivators.

At this point, Chu Changli asked, “Master, we’re going to cultivate the sword path, but where are the swords?”

Yue Qianqiu countered, “Where is your Chixiao Sword?”

Chu Changli was puzzled. “What Chixiao, what sword?”

Yue Qianqiu: “…”

After practicing "Silent Mountains and Rivers," Yue Qianqiu began writing more books. She wrote "Silent Peaks Sword Manual," "Heartless Moon," and "Shan He Ji."

Mei He was sometimes confused as to why Master could write sword techniques that only inner disciples of Kunlun Sect could learn.

At this time, Yue Qianqiu didn’t explain, but called out Mei He’s name, softly saying, “Mei He, why is voice input so difficult?”

Mei He didn’t understand Yue Qianqiu’s words. She just put down her pen and smiled slightly. “Since Master is tired, then please take a rest.”

Yue Qianqiu was exhausted and lay down to sleep, entering a dream where she met the Lord of Zhou.

Mei He removed her shoes, Chu Changli tucked her in, Bai Yushuang released the crickets to avoid disturbing her.

Gong Yu brought a zither and, with lowered eyes, played "Clear Heart Sutra" to help Master sleep.

The night at Bixue Peak was very quiet, with the occasional bird call or insect chirping.

Mei He stood in the courtyard and handed three swords to her three junior sisters, saying, “To keep Master from worrying, starting tonight, let’s practice swordsmanship together.”

The spring wind was gentle, and they practiced swordsmanship. In the summer, cherry blossoms bloomed, and they practiced swordsmanship. On autumn nights, under the starry sky, they practiced swordsmanship. In the winter, as snow fell, they still practiced swordsmanship.

Years passed, and Bai Yushuang said to Yue Qianqiu, “Master, I think I have gained some insights and would like to write a book.”

Yue Qianqiu smiled with approval. “Then write it.”

Bai Yushuang wrote three pages but couldn’t write any further.

Yue Qianqiu looked at the three strange pages of sword techniques and rubbed her forehead, setting a new rule:

“To publish a book, the manuscript must be no less than fifty pages.”

From then on, no one ever complained about wanting to publish a book. After all, they weren’t Yue Qianqiu, who could casually write various sword techniques.

But after finishing their sword practice, the disciples often wanted to fly with their swords, just like Yue Qianqiu.

Yue Qianqiu said, “No one wants to fly with a sword.”

Chu Changli was the first to disagree. “Master, how could no one want to? I still want to fly to the high mountains in the back and see where the cranes live.”

Yue Qianqiu said, “Before people fall to their deaths, they always think like this.”

Chu Changli: “…”

After being pestered by her disciples for so long, Yue Qianqiu grew impatient. With a wave of her hand, she wrote two lines of text and had Mei He publish it.

When the disciples received the book and saw that it was fifty pages thick, their excitement was evident.

They opened the mysterious book titled "Lan Cang Jue" and flipped to the first page, but it was blank.

Bai Yushuang was stunned. “Senior Sister, did you print it wrong?”

Mei He sighed and smiled without speaking.

Chu Changli didn’t believe it and turned to the second page, but it was still blank.

She persisted, flipping through dozens of pages, but it remained empty.

“…”

Chu Changli expressionlessly turned to the last page and finally found the secret to flying with a sword:

“No techniques required, simply hold a spiritual sword and release your spiritual power to target a location.

Don’t ask how to cultivate spiritual power, I don’t know.

—Yue Qianqiu”

The disciples exchanged glances.

Bai Yushuang couldn’t help but sigh. “Master is so lazy.”

Gong Yu shook her head. “Junior Sister, how can you say that about Master?”

Chu Changli closed the book and commented, “Master is not only lazy but also wasteful with the pages.”

Mei He smiled and said, “Don’t worry, Junior Sisters. I’ve only spent half of the family wealth. Master can spend however she likes. When we run out of money, I’ll think of something.”

The three disciples nodded, thinking that indeed, Senior Sister was the true head of the Wanjian Sect.