Chapter 22: Fallen from the Cliff

Beneath the precipice, where the cliff dropped for thousands of feet, a great river roared with surging waves. Zhang Ping carried Yin Tianfang on his back, and together with Lin Fan, all three were flung into the air by the forceful blast. On such a narrow mountain path, a single misstep could send one plummeting to their doom—let alone being flung without any hope of struggle, hurled straight into the river at the ravine's bottom.

“No!” Qing Feng and Qing Yue arrived just in time, crying out loudly. But it was too late; they could only watch helplessly as the three figures vanished over the edge, powerless to intervene.

With a sharp whistle, Qing Feng, unwilling to accept this outcome, summoned his spiritual power, urging the sword beneath his feet to transform into a streak of light that dove after the fallen. Moments later, he reappeared atop the cliff, landing lightly. In his grasp was the limp form of Lin Fan, unconscious.

“Senior Brother...” Qing Yue approached anxiously, glancing at Qing Feng, who could only sigh softly and shake his head. At this, Qing Yue’s face paled.

“Senior Brother Qing Feng, this person must be handed over to the sect for judgment,” a young man approached, speaking courteously.

“Handed over to the sect?” Qing Feng’s expression turned cold as he looked at the group, his aura surging forth oppressively, causing those present to struggle for breath, their hearts filling with dread.

“My master is dead, and whether the culprit is truly my junior brother remains unproven. You struck him and sent him over the cliff, and I haven’t even settled accounts with you—yet now you demand I hand him over?”

“Do you really think I, Qing Feng, am so easily bullied?”

“Please, Senior Brother Qing Feng, calm your anger. Junior Brother Zhao Ming meant nothing by it. If you do not wish to hand him over, then just take him away,” another youth quickly interjected with a conciliatory smile.

“I’ll take him. You will pretend you saw nothing. If anyone dares to speak of this, don’t blame me for turning hostile!” With a cold snort, Qing Feng departed in fury, Lin Fan and Qing Yue in tow.

“Tch, what’s so great about him?” Once Qing Feng had gone, the youth named Zhao Ming muttered with a sneer. “He’s the Grand Elder’s disciple. When the Grand Elder was alive, no one dared cross him. Now the old man’s dead, he still acts so arrogant. Sooner or later, someone will finish him off.”

“Careful what you say, Junior Brother Zhao. Words can bring disaster. If Senior Brother Qing Feng hears, it won’t end well,” someone cautioned.

“What’s there to fear? Without the Grand Elder, what can he rely on? He’s not even the strongest in the sect. Why act so high and mighty?” another added, barely masking his discontent.

“Enough of this. Yin Tianfang fell from the cliff—he must be dead. If we find his body and bring it back, it makes no difference.”

With that, the speaker mounted his sword and sped off toward the base of the cliff. The others, seeing this, set aside their complaints and, not wanting to be left behind, transformed into streaks of light and followed in pursuit…

The mighty river surged across the land, broad and turbulent, spanning ten miles from bank to bank. This was the Clearwater River, its transparent waters unwavering in depth throughout the year, giving rise to both its name and that of the entire kingdom—Clearwater.

Zhang Ping, carrying Yin Tianfang, was hurled over the precipice and into the roaring river, striking the surface with a heavy thud. The impact knocked Zhang Ping unconscious at once. Swept along by the current, both he and the still-unconscious Yin Tianfang drifted ever further apart as they were carried downstream.

Thousands of miles along the river’s course, a towering mountain rose into the clouds, splitting the river into two branches. On either bank, two more high peaks stood, forming a triangle with the central mountain. The grandeur of these three mountains was awe-inspiring.

From midway up the mountainside, mist swirled, partially veiling countless palatial pavilions and elegant towers, a scene reminiscent of a celestial realm. Below the halfway point, lush greenery abounded, and at regular intervals, wide terraces—clearly man-made—supported exquisite villas. Layer upon layer, the dwellings stretched into the distance, a truly magnificent sight.

“Sister Nuolan, come quickly!” A young girl hurried into one of the courtyards, calling loudly. From within, a woman emerged with unhurried grace.

She appeared about twenty, dressed in a flowing azure gown. Her skin was fair as snow, her lips red and teeth white, her features so refined they seemed nature’s finest art. Her dark hair cascaded like a waterfall to her waist, and her movements were as gentle as a willow in the breeze, full of elegant charm.

“What’s gotten you so flustered?” Nuolan regarded the girl with a slight widening of her bright eyes.

The girl stuck out her tongue playfully. “Sister Nuolan, I saw someone when I went to fetch water from the river.”

“Let me guess, you saw that handsome young man again and got all worked up over nothing.” Nuolan smiled, lips pursed in amusement.

The girl’s cheeks flushed pink. “It’s not like that, Sister.”

“This isn’t the first time, is it? Do you want me to ask his name for you, or where he lives, so you’ll have a chance to get close?”

“No, no, Sister! This time I really found an unconscious boy in the river—I fished him out.”

“Oh? And where is he now?”

“I was afraid you’d be angry if I brought him inside, so I left him outside.”

Nuolan, momentarily speechless, said, “Take me to see him.”

“Oh.” The girl led Nuolan to a secluded corner outside the courtyard, pointing. “I left him there.”

“You…”

“I was afraid someone would see. This place is full of female disciples, and he’s a boy. If someone saw him, it’d look bad.”

Nuolan shook her head and beckoned the girl to help her carry the youth inside. They found a room and settled him on a bed. He lay quietly there, his hair damp and disheveled, revealing a pale and youthful face.

Nuolan brushed aside the hair from his forehead, and his delicate features came into view—it was Yin Tianfang.

Frowning slightly, Nuolan pressed a slender finger to his body, channeling a thread of spiritual energy into him. After a moment, she withdrew her hand and gave the girl some instructions. The girl hurried off and soon returned, handing Nuolan a jade bottle.

Nuolan opened it, and a round, milky-white pill tumbled out, releasing a faint, pleasant aroma. She gently placed the pill in Yin Tianfang’s mouth.

“His body is injured, but not severely. I don’t know why he won’t wake. Let’s leave him to rest for now.”

The two quietly exited, closing the door behind them. In the tranquil room, Yin Tianfang lay unmoving on the bed. Who knew how much time passed before, in his unconsciousness, his brow furrowed slightly.

“Child, wake up!” A voice called beside his ear. Yin Tianfang summoned all his strength to lift his heavy eyelids. As his gaze cleared, he saw, swaying gently above a calm expanse of water, a green lotus rooted in the surface. Beside the lotus, Daochenzi stood watching him, a faint smile upon his lips…