Chapter 352 – The Ninefold Converging Explosive Blade, the Sun-born Child, and Li Ping'an of the Holy Tree Temple - Part 3

Three months later.

Jen’gal Naran was already toddling, a toy axe in one hand. He looked the size of a sturdy three or four-year-old.

Beside him trotted Finn, the direwolf Li Yuan had raised. Wherever the boy wandered, the wolf followed; when Naran wobbled, Finn would dart forward and nudge him gently upright.

Li Yuan, Snow, and their guest Suljagar watched, smiling.

“Truly a Sun-born child,” Suljagar declared. “Walking in only three months. Only the ancient Arikkhan matched that.”

His gaze lingered on the boy. In his heart, he had sworn to place the Khagan’s Axe into those small hands and watch him grow into the next Khagan.

Li Yuan might command awe, but he was not of the white-skin, red-eye people; Suljagar wanted a

true

child of the Nine Flames on the throne.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

Silkfloss Province’s Skygarden Prefecture, located far away from the frozen tundra and snow covered mountaintops of Cloudpeak Province.

Here spring reigned eternal, filled with lush leaves, riotous blossoms, and the humming of crimson insects. Bright butterflies, gorgeous yet laden with venom, drifted among exotic flowers. This was the area hidden behind the third gate of the Holy Tree Temple.

A carriage rolled up to the gate’s entrance. The warden, blank-eyed and mechanical, parted the moment the curtain lifted, then let it fall. Inside, the woman lowered the fabric, and as the light dimmed, composure shattered into delight.

Her fingers brushed the letter in her lap; joy flooded every feature.

Wonderful...wonderful... Master isn’t dead! He’s alive, alive!

Yao Jue almost burst into song, but she restrained herself; only in the privacy of a carriage could she give way. She was so happy, so exhilarated, that she could scarcely wait to tell Cui Huayin, Jing Shuixiang, Ping'an, and everyone else connected to that man.

“He’s still alive..!”

she whispered to herself.

The legendary weaponsmith who forged that divine weapon, he was still walking among the living. Not only was he alive, but he had already broken into fifth rank!

“Thank Heaven... Thank Heaven.” Yao Jue’s heart swelled until it felt ready to burst.

The carriage rolled to a halt. She stepped down, just as a flamboyant young hero on a dashing steed came tearing across the square.

Even before he arrived, the coppery reek of fresh blood slapped her in the face.

“Auntie Yao!” The youth swung from the saddle of his horse in a drifting spin. For a heartbeat, the way his black hair whipped about made Yao Jue think of

that

man in his reckless youth.

“Ping'an, back already? Why are you soaked in blood?”

“Eh, I killed a few people, no idea who. The Lotus Cult try to murder me every day, so I spread bait and went fishing. Sure enough a whole crew showed up, a handful of them sixth rank. But...” Ping'an pulled a face. “They were too weak. No fun at all.”

He bared a carnivore’s grin. “Makes me miss the old man. Only he ever handed me a real thrashing. Had me thinking the outside world was terrifying; turns out it’s full of chicks. You can’t find a single one that can fight.”

“I bet your father is still worrying about you,” Yao Jue chided.

“I know, I know. The old geezer was afraid I’d get arrogant, so he tried to hammer caution into me for years.” He clapped his hands. “Problem is, he used up every method there is to beat me. Now I’m bored, so bored.”

Your father is still alive...

Yao Jue bit back the words, keeping an elder’s stern tone instead. “However high your talent, don’t be careless. Don’t waste the pains your father took.”

Ping'an’s mouth quirked with a roguish smile. “You know, this is just a mask. The real me is cautious and humble. I never underestimate the enemy.”

“Mask, my foot,” she snorted. “I’ve yet to see you take it off. How about removing it for your aunt right now?”

He laughed. “Next time, Auntie Yao, I promise.”

With that, Ping'an vaulted to the saddle again and headed toward the inner reaches of the Holy Tree Temple.

Yao Jue had only just turned away when the hoofbeats circled back.

“What is it, Ping'an?” She was endlessly patient with the son of that man.

Ping'an frowned, dropped his voice. “You oversee the defenses of the third gate, right? Have any outsiders slipped into the city lately? Powerful outsiders?”

“None,” she said, puzzled. “Did you sense something?”

“I feel someone watching me. On the road back from that fight, eyes were on me. And right now, they’re still there...”

Yao Jue swept the courtyard with a sharp look. She sensed nothing. This was the inner sanctum of the Holy Tree Temple, crawling with masters; who could sneak in unseen, let alone keep observing Ping'an? Yet she saw no clue. “And now?”

“Still watching,” Ping'an said wryly. “I can feel them. And they know I can feel them, but they keep watching.”

“Your master. Go to her

now

.” Yao Jue didn’t hesitate.

The two of them sped deeper into the complex, arriving before one of the sky-pavilions hung from the White Bamboo Hanging Bell Tower.

Inside, a woman in white sat cross-legged at the threshold, clouds beneath her gaze, half of the Holy Tree Temple spread below. Across her lap rested the famed demonic sword, Sun and Moon Aloft—now ranked tenth among the greatest weapons under Heaven. It was ranked tenth only because its legends were not yet numerous enough to match the nine ahead of it.

Sensing the presence of her direct disciple and sworn sister, Gu Xuejian opened her eyes and descended.

Ping'an laid out everything he felt. Pride would have kept him silent had the trouble been solvable alone.

Gu Xuejian soared into the air, her senses unfurled, probing every shadow for more than 15 kilometers around. Yet when she finished, she had found nothing.

“Still there?” she asked.

Ping'an nodded once.

Gu Xuejian’s search went on—first minutes, then hours—yet turned up nothing.

“Ping'an,” Yao Jue finally said, “maybe the recent bloodshed’s got your nerves stretched taut. Rest a few days and see if the feeling fades.”

“You live atop the White Bamboo Hanging Bell Tower,” Gu Xuejian added. “If such a person really existed, I doubt they’d dare show themselves here.”

“Yes, Auntie Yao. Yes, Master.” Ping'an bowed to both.

Over the next few days, the eerie gaze truly vanished.

“Perhaps I was just over-excited,” he told himself.

Just then a voice floated up from below. “Ping'an! Hey, Ping'an!”

He leapt to the door and peered down. A lively girl in violet waved, chest thrust proudly forward.

“I made your favorite hundred flower pastries and soup dumplings, plus a 20-year jar of Snowbrew!”

Pastries and dumplings were nothing special, but 20-year Snowbrew? That vintage dated back to his birth, brewed in the distant Gemhill County. Home. The taste of it summoned blurred memories of his father and mother.

𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

Thrilled, he shouted, “Liuxue, coming!”

“Don’t rush, wait till your master returns!” Liu Liuxue exclaimed. She was the young girl from the disgraced Liu Clan who had always stubbornly clung to Ping'an in the past. And it appeared her habit was no different in the present.

She knew the tower stood over a fourth rank meat field. One slip and a person could die unless Gue Xuejian flew them down.

Even as she spoke, the arrogant youth vaulted from the terrace.

Liu Liuxue’s face went sheet-white; her heart nearly stopped. Yet he drifted like a leaf, veering this way and that, still inside the danger zone. Moments before plunging into the meat field he gave a languid twist.

Immediately, five Ping'ans blossomed in mid-air.

Four flung the uppermost farther out, and

that

one alighted gently before the dumbstruck girl. He pinched her cheek and grinned.

“Cry-baby, about to weep again?”

The words had barely left his lips when the strange sensation flooded back.

Someone

was watching him—no malice, yet undeniably there. Who was it?

Days passed.

The unseen observer looked, but never showed a hand.

Gu Xuejian consulted Deputy Jing and even the temple master Qing Hancheng. All three scoured the grounds, only to come to the same conclusion. Either the watcher did not exist, or none of them could perceive them, a notion they found impossible.

In time, Ping'an shrugged off the feeling as nerves.

˙·٠✧🐗➶➴🏹✧٠·˙

Within a deep gorge in the south, a palanquin crusted with gold dragons waited in silence. Even a blind man would know it carried a peerless noble.

“Your Majesty,” a voice rumbled beside the carriage, “all seven weaponsmiths of the Lotus Cult have arrived. One is Zhu Ban, the father of your former Yin Consort.”

The speaker, Lu Xuanxian, wore a triple-pronged coronet and dark gold armor grinning with a beast’s face. A war-god in mortal flesh, he had foiled every attempt on the Emperor’s life, even assaults by fourth rank foes. Why such a titan served so loyally was anyone’s guess.

A deep, magnetic voice rang out from within the carriage. “The Great Zhou Treasury opens 300 meters ahead today. What lies inside is a weaponsmith’s chance at destiny. Send them in. I wish to see who can claim it.”

A dangerous smile curved Lu Xuanxian’s lips. “As you command, Your Majesty. Yet what if they all die?”

“My new dynasty welcomes only the strong,” the Emperor replied. “Those who can forge fifth rank weapons yet cannot seize an opportunity? Let them die.”