After the rain, the empty mountain felt renewed.
Heaven and earth washed clean, white clouds draped like floating robes descending. On the cliff edge of Cangwu Peak, where a strange rock jutted out, the ditation cushion long untouched now saw soone seated in quiet reflection. Yet, the one-ard woman found herself uncharacteristically restless.
The sword selection at the Sword Tomb was long past. Regardless of the epoch, Zhou Yitang seldom returned to this place for ditation after her journey back to the mountain. Even if she did, it was often on grand festival occasions — more formality than devotion. To call it a practice of quiet self-cultivation would be far-fetched; it was more of a perfunctory act, as if she perford it rely for tradition's sake. If word got out, none would accuse her of disrespecting The Three Pure Ones. Instead, they'd say she was carefree and uninhibited. Yet, subtly, such behavior served as a warning to the younger disciples: if one lacked her mastery, one should never attempt such casualness. ditation, whether for Taoists or Buddhists, remains an indispensable ascetic practice. The Buddhist school advocates ditation to focus on the "present mont," aiming to uncover the Buddha within oneself. Hence, the Zen story of the "wild duck" captures this keen truth: a wild duck flies by, leaving only the present mont behind. Similarly, the Taoist approach teaches the concept of "stillness," encapsulated in the phrase: "Reach utmost emptiness; uphold steadfast tranquility. All things rise and fall together; in this, I observe the cycle's return." From stillness, one perceives the creation and extinction of all life, thereby understanding the Heavenly Dao. As evident, while both schools emphasize ditation, they differ profoundly: one seeks insight within, discouraging external seeking; the other commits to stillness to glimpse the great Dao. The internal path of law juxtaposed against the external attaining of the Dao — this schism defines the marrow-deep dichotomy between the two schools. It was this distinction that ignited controversy two Jiazi ago when the Daoist Sage of Penglai stirred waves with his attempted integration of Buddhist Taoist philosophies… As Zhou Yitang contemplated, she had long transcended the boundaries between movent and ditation, walking as ditation, sitting as ditation; even without seated practice, she could find tranquility. But this ti, her ditation failed to bring peace. Multiple tis, she muttered to herself to regain focus, only to drift outward again within monts. The autumn wind swept across the mountains, casting shadows of trees that danced like restless thoughts — resembling the present mont where the trees wished for stillness but the wind was unrelenting. Zhou Yitang inhaled deeply, waiting for the wind to pass, before finally centering herself; sitting solidly like the rocky shadow that lood behind her, her spirit began to gather. Yet inexplicably, a mory surfaced—years ago, that rebellious disciple once complinted her, remarking how her eyelids were remarkably delicate and thin.
Suddenly, Zhou Yitang's eyes snapped open. She exhaled a breath of murky air, her gaze flickering with uncertainty.
After brief deliberation, she abandoned her ditation. Rising gracefully, she moved swiftly to a wooden hall not far away. Without any deliberate signage or plaque, it was loosely considered Cangwu Peak's learning hall. Green sprouted where the pillars t the stone base.
By the edge of the Magic Platform, Yin Tingxue sat slouched until she heard soone enter. Imdiately, she straightened up, only to rember this was not training ti—her shoulders loosened again.
"Master Zhou, you've co?" Yin Tingxue said this while clutching a yellow dog into her arms.
Zhou Yitang surveyed the room briefly before stating, "He is coming."
The young girl sprang to her feet, blurting out, "Truly?"
The yellow dog, sensing its mistress's rising emotions, wagged its tail.
The one-ard woman did neither nod nor shake her head. She rely walked to the girl's ditation cushion, sat down, and single-handedly grabbed the yellow dog, tossing it away.
Yin Tingxue exclaid, "Hey!" Her gaze chased after the dog, which sulkily turned back every few steps before eventually scampering off into the distance.
The girl turned back cautiously, watching Zhou Yitang. Although outwardly unaffected, her high-level cultivation granted her faint awareness of emotions—her master's mood was complicated.
Zhou Yitang remained silent. Yin Tingxue ventured quietly, "Is he… stronger than you now?"
A sharp glance from the one-ard woman made the girl instantly shy back. Calmly yet coldly, she replied, "No."
"That's good." Yin Tingxue paused, adding, "He cannot be stronger than you."
The little fox felt slightly worried that Chen Yi might surpass Zhou Yitang in skill. If that happened, who could restrain Chen Yi in the future? While that might not be catastrophic—as she'd simply employ more pillow-talk—it would spell trouble for Master Zhou. After all, how could she ignore her husband's covetousness toward Zhou Yitang all this ti?
Master Zhou was both her teacher and friend, not to ntion the Sword Armor of Yin Sword Mountain. Yin Tingxue deeply feared she might lose face in the process.
Autumn's hues often brought traces of sorrow. The girl tugged at the cushion's verdant threads.
The one-ard woman's eyes narrowed slightly. She didn't disclose to Yin Tingxue how far Chen Yi had truly advanced—if the two crossed swords, within the first fifty strikes, he'd prove capable of standing equally.
After prolonged deliberation, Zhou Yitang finally spoke, "How do you handle him?"
"?" Yin Tingxue pointed to herself, puzzled, "Handle him?"
"Yes."
"I don't handle him."
"He listens to you."
Yin Tingxue blinked, pondering for a mont. It seed to be true—Chen Yi had started to listen to her pillow whispers at so point, though not always entirely.
Why was that, she wondered? The girl couldn't help but reflect deeply.
Just then, feeling the softened tension, the yellow dog poked its head around.
Yin Tingxue quickly waved, prompting it to leap into her arms. Zhou Yitang observed and didn't intervene.
"Master Zhou… are you asking for my advice?"
With the yellow dog cuddled in her arms, Yin Tingxue tentatively probed.
"Perhaps." Zhou Yitang paused, adding, "Does that surprise you?"
Yin Tingxue shook her head softly, saying, "Not at all, not at all. A disciple need not be inferior to their teacher, nor must a teacher surpass their disciple. Each has their strengths—this, I understand."
"Understanding is good."
This daughter of the Xiang King was truly obedient, a quality Zhou Yitang generally approved of in her pupil.
Seated before her, shadows cast over the one-ard woman's face. The yellow dog's tail stiffened uneasily, while Yin Tingxue let out a breath. Even when silent, Master Zhou's serene yet cold gaze seed to chill the air, pricking at the back of one's neck.
Yin Tingxue didn't quite enjoy it. She spoke, "Even the Saints demand cured ats as tuition fees. Master Zhou, I won't charge you such fees, but… could you be gentler in the future?"
The one-ard woman narrowed her eyes.
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