Chapter 9: The Tragic Fate of Huangfu Meng

Huangfu Meng’s heart pounded wildly, her face a mixture of excitement and reverence as her gaze wandered ceaselessly around the abode of this reclusive master.

A guqin.

Her eyes landed on the zither resting in one corner, and she approached it with curiosity. “He plays the guqin in his leisure—truly a master hidden from the world. Only such a person could possess this sort of temperament.”

Her admiration for Chen Changsheng grew even deeper.

She examined the guqin closely and found its craftsmanship exquisite, every carved motif vivid and lifelike. She could not help but whisper in amazement, “Even the carving alone marks this as a masterpiece, the work of a grandmaster.”

“I have some knowledge of music myself; perhaps I can try a few notes and while away some time,” she murmured, lowering herself before the instrument. Though her heart leapt with excitement, she could barely restrain herself; even her slender, jade-like fingers trembled as they reached for the strings.

She plucked a single note.

The sound that rang out was strange and wonderful—like the cry of a bird, the drop of a clear spring, the purest chime of a sacred mantra, piercing directly to her soul.

She felt as if thunder had crashed over her head, leaving her frozen where she sat. “The Sound of the Great Dao!”

Heavens! This guqin actually played the Sound of the Great Dao!

The Sound of the Great Dao was the highest of all musical manifestations, encompassing all things under heaven. To comprehend it would elevate one’s heart and mind to transcendent heights, granting breakthroughs in cultivation as if splitting bamboo.

Gazing at the guqin, Huangfu Meng’s heart quaked violently; her full chest rose and fell as waves of shock battered her soul.

Even an instrument crafted by this master—its music alone embodied the Sound of the Great Dao. Such a being should dwell above the nine heavens!

How could he remain in this mortal world?

Only after a long while did Huangfu Meng recover from her utter astonishment, and then, unable to contain her excitement, she began to play.

Clear notes tumbled from her slender fingers, flowing from the guqin and filling the entire room with their beauty.

Yet after only a short time, her blood surged violently within her, and it seemed as if she might explode from the turmoil.

With a cry, she was thrown backward by the force of the music, crashing heavily to the floor.

She scrambled to her feet, disheveled and pale, blood trickling from her eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.

“This guqin is terrifying,” she whimpered, wiping away the blood, glancing fearfully at the instrument, no longer daring to approach.

A true master indeed—he had made a guqin that not only played the Sound of the Great Dao, but was so fearsome it could injure her to this extent.

She turned her attention to other items in the room.

A wooden sword?

Soon, she noticed a wooden sword tossed carelessly in a corner. It looked small, clearly a child’s toy.

“This must be a toy the master made for his daughter. Now that she’s grown, she has no interest in such childish things, so it was left here,” Huangfu Meng surmised, sighing softly. “So the master is also a doting father, willing even to make toys for his child.”

Examining the sword more closely, she saw that, though not large, it was crafted with extraordinary precision. The surface was smooth as jade, the carved patterns meticulous and refined down to the finest detail.

She exclaimed, “Such craftsmanship! This is a priceless work of art, more exquisite than anything made by the greatest carpenters on the Snow Chant Continent.”

Studying the material, she gasped again, “This is the legendary goldenwood!”

Heavens! Goldenwood was the most unyielding timber in the world, hundreds of times stronger than refined steel. An ordinary cultivator could not leave a single mark upon it, yet he had carved it into a sword, rendering every detail with such utter perfection…

“No, not just that—a single piece of goldenwood would be worth a fortune!”

Her soul trembled violently, her delicate body shuddering.

A treasure beyond price, carved with peerless artistry—yet it had been made into a mere toy.

To craft a toy was one thing, but to toss it aside as if it were worthless—such extravagance was almost obscene!

If this so-called toy sword, discarded like rubbish, were revealed to the world, it would surely provoke a bloody frenzy across the Snow Chant Continent.

Suppressing her wildly pounding heart, Huangfu Meng picked up the toy sword and gave it a casual swing.

Immediately, disaster struck.

A surge of sword intent, vast as a roaring tide, erupted from the blade.

With a scream, she was hurled backward by its force, landing heavily on the ground.

Her face was deathly pale, her clothing torn to shreds by the sword’s energy, revealing large swathes of flawless, snow-white skin.

As she struggled to her feet in pitiful disarray, she suddenly felt a sweetness in her throat and spat out a mouthful of thick blood.

“So this is the power of the wooden sword…” she gasped, her heart roiling with terror.

This was no toy—it was undoubtedly the most fearsome sword in existence!

She stared at the sword in horror, now too frightened to come any closer, lest her very life be forfeit.

She continued to inspect the other items in the room.

Soon—

A spinning top?

Her gaze settled on a small spinning top, carved simply with a yin-yang pattern.

She hesitated, wary now after her experiences with the guqin and the sword. “This spinning top… surely it can’t be dangerous…”

She pondered for a while, but could not imagine how a spinning top might harm her. Finally, curiosity overcame her caution, and she picked it up.

She set the top spinning on the floor.

In her vision, the yin-yang motif expanded endlessly, and the entire world seemed to spin along with the top.

The black and white of the pattern suffused the universe, blending and merging until each contained the other.

“The Great Dao of Yin and Yang!” she cried inwardly, her soul struck as if by lightning, rooted to the spot in helpless awe.

The energies of yin and yang surged from the spinning top, shattering heaven and earth.

Before it, Huangfu Meng was as insignificant as an ant, her presence growing fainter and fainter, as though she might vanish entirely.