Volume One: Turmoil in Yan-Yun Chapter Forty-Eight: The Pavilion of Freedom (II)

All the shifting flowers return to the Eastern Sea… Yet shifting flowers have always been a power within the boundaries of the Eastern Sea, so it likely does not refer to territory.

Then, this phrase must carry another meaning.

The Eastern Sea is under the domain of Bohai. Currently, the King of Bohai is the most ambitious among Bohai’s princes in recent years. Under his rule, the people are prosperous and at peace, and perhaps in the future, Bohai will rise to even greater heights. Just as there are subtle ties between the Divine Might Fortress and the Yanbei Prince’s estate, perhaps shifting flowers also has a similar agreement with the Bohai royal family.

But what does “return” mean here? Does it mean shifting flowers has pledged allegiance to Bohai?

Though in recent years, shifting flowers has been oppressed by both Mount Tai Xuan and the Snowcloud Sect, it remains one of the few formidable sects under heaven. Its Palace Lord, Zisang Bumo, has long since reached the Unity of Dao, and the two vice-palace lords are both at the peak of the Void Dao, with countless powerful followers… How could such a force submit to mere mortal authority?

Even if Zisang Bumo had lost his way, since ancient times, strength commands respect. What could the Bohai royal family possibly use to command a force like shifting flowers?

Wealth? That’s nothing but a joke.

Power? In this era where strength is power, Zisang Bumo himself is one of the supreme authorities.

Then what else could it be?

If not lured by profit, could it be coerced?

Windrise’s brow furrowed even deeper, and he swiftly and firmly rejected this thought.

Or perhaps they share the same goal?

Kindred spirits… Those with kindred spirits may not always walk the same path, but it does increase the chance of an alliance. Even so, many questions remain.

There is too little information, yet too much to consider; even for Windrise, it is difficult to deduce the whole cause and effect.

Matters that cannot be understood are best left aside.

Besides, this was not the only thing he could not fathom.

He looked at Shui Dongliu and said softly, “This news is worth a great deal.”

Shui Dongliu replied, “It is beyond price.”

Windrise asked, “What does the storyteller mean by this?”

Shui Dongliu shook his head. “With my station, how could I know the Pavilion Master’s intent?”

Before Windrise could inquire further, Shui Dongliu continued, “It was Lord Brushstroke who gave the order directly, saying that if the Young Heir visited this place, this news should be given to him.”

Windrise said, “What use is it to tell me? Whether I go south to Wuyang or north to Yan Cloud, is there anywhere this issue cannot be resolved? Why tell me in particular?”

Shui Dongliu answered, “Perhaps Lord Brushstroke wishes to see just how far the most talented person in history can go.”

Windrise raised his brows slightly.

Murong Xue, standing nearby, said coolly, “Don’t speak of those countless dazzling geniuses in the histories; even now, among our generation, there are two who surpass him. How can he be called the greatest in history?”

Shui Dongliu only shook his head, offering no explanation.

Murong Xue did not know the origin of these words, but Windrise understood somewhat.

After a moment’s silence, Windrise said, “As far as I know, when the late Emperor was my age, he often sparred with the Sword Ancestor of White Clouds.”

Shui Dongliu replied, “But he never won.”

Windrise said, “Victory is meaningless.”

Shui Dongliu said, “Lord Brushstroke says that a hundred years from now, in the battle against the Demon Clan, all methods and means will be a joke. Only the result will be real.”

Windrise said nothing more, cupped his hands in salute, and turned to leave.

Murong Xue, left in the cold for a while, was somewhat sulky. She stomped her foot and hurried after Windrise.

Only Luo Xing looked at Shui Dongliu very seriously, as if about to ask something.

Shui Dongliu bowed slightly, his gaze lowered.

Luo Xing understood his meaning and asked nothing, turning and running after Windrise.

...

...

Free and Unfettered Pavilion.

Passing through the courtyard and stepping on the carpet of fallen leaves, Shui Dongliu slowly pushed open the doors to the main hall.

Inside, two elderly men sat opposite each other, playing a game of go. Dressed in black and white robes, they resembled the interwoven black and white stones on the board, ignoring Shui Dongliu’s entrance.

He bowed respectfully, then turned his gaze to the board, his spirit awakening.

Though he did not know the earlier moves, as a second-rank scribe with a mind of his own, he could sense the perils within the game.

The crisp sound of stones falling on the board echoed like the strings of a zither.

Shui Dongliu was utterly absorbed, entranced.

He did not know how much time had passed before he suddenly exclaimed, “It can be played like this?”

Perhaps his exclamation was too abrupt; both elders paused their game, turning to look at him, their faces full of displeasure.

Realizing his blunder, Shui Dongliu quickly apologized.

The elder in white tossed his stone onto the board with a sigh. “I had intended to teach you properly, but since you interrupted, it shows your fate with this game ends here. How much you comprehend depends on your own fortune.”

Shui Dongliu replied, “It is all a matter of luck for this student. What I have gained here is enough; I should be able to reflect on it for some time.”

“Enough?” The white-robed elder snorted. “So far, I’ve shown this game to three people. Whether it was the imperial scion or the youth from Mount Tai Xuan, they could nearly see through the entire game, yet you—one of the previous generation’s key disciples of the Free and Unfettered Pavilion—can only grasp this much. Is our Pavilion truly inferior to others?”

Shui Dongliu was taken aback. “This student is dull-witted.”

The white-robed elder wanted to say more, but the black-robed elder interrupted, “It’s not entirely his fault. The younger generation is simply too outstanding… Just now, that one outside, perhaps even he could match us in a game.”

“Match us? Him?” The white-robed elder raised his voice in firm denial, then gradually lowered it again, “I wonder, when the Storyteller is born, will he be able to contend with such people?”

The black-robed elder smiled and shook his head. “What does a scholar care for victory or defeat?”

He paused, his expression growing solemn. “But contending with the Demon Clan is still necessary. I wonder if humanity will ever produce another like Wei Sanmu.”

He glanced at the white-robed elder, sighing deeply, “Without one, what fate awaits the world?”

...

...