Entering the Spirit Realm: Chapter 96 - Nighttime Conversations in the Bamboo Pavilion
Miss Jie caught a sudden glimpse of the scene on the bamboo pavilion above and could not help but feel a surge of jealousy rise within her. She bit her silver teeth tightly, her fair neck flushing a different hue, and whispered, “Ugh! That sly and coquettish vixen! No wonder my cousin refuses to meet or return home; he’s been ensnared by you, that fox spirit!”
At that moment, she longed to rush up the bamboo pavilion and drive a sword through the young maiden in black to satisfy her heart’s desire. Yet, just as her body and spirit were about to rise, the fallen scholar grasped her arm and quietly advised, “Little impatience can ruin a great plan, Miss Jie. You’d better endure a little longer.”
Meanwhile, the masked figure continued to write: “Senior Sister, this time descending the mountain, I encountered unforeseen difficulties.”
The young woman clad in black asked calmly, “Did you face the most formidable martial artists in the world and find yourself unable to defeat them?”
The fallen scholar suddenly recalled someone and glanced swiftly at the Flower Interpreter, softly inquiring, “Heroine Jie, is the young lady sitting at the table above the Meng Biyu you mentioned?”
Jie nodded with a smile, “Yes, that’s her.”
Upon saying this, everyone once again fixed their gaze upward toward the pavilion. The masked figure swiftly scribbled again, then held the tablet upright, reflecting the words onto the bronze mirror: “The sect’s martial arts are unrivaled in the martial world.”
Meng Biyu then asked, “So, the two weapons in your junior brother’s hands aren’t as powerful as theirs?”
The masked figure nodded and wrote, “The two weapons masterfully designed by Senior Sister are not only extraordinarily powerful but can also be used to write messages in place of speech. They are truly excellent.”
Meng Biyu smiled faintly and asked, “Then what difficulty did you encounter?”
The masked figure wrote, “Following the junior sister’s plan, I first posted a declaration of intent, then went to the Forest Temple. I exerted all my strength to subdue that deeply skilled monk, causing a sensation throughout the martial world. Yet, just when the great deed was about to be accomplished and the old monks prepared to fight me to the death, suddenly an elderly man appeared, holding a portrait of my father and calling my name, urging me to stop.”
Meng Biyu listened to the masked figure’s words without once turning her head. Her large, clear eyes alternated between the bronze mirror and the portrait.
After seeing the words reflected on the bronze mirror, she asked calmly, “What kind of person was he, holding your father’s portrait?”
The masked figure wrote plainly, “He was a thin and aged scholar, looking much like my father, though apparently older and slimmer.”
Meng Biyu lowered her head in thought for a while before raising it to say, “I recall reading this passage in my studies: ‘Wealth nourishes the house; virtue nourishes the person; a broad heart leads to a robust body.’ Your father, seeing your intelligence, felt joyful and well-nourished, so naturally he was plump. But since you left home without contact, his mood likely changed from contentment to worry, causing him to grow thin and appear aged.”
“Could that elderly scholar truly be my father? Yet I find it doubtful. If he were my father, why would he bother to bring a portrait? Besides, my father cannot perform martial arts, but that old man seemed quite skilled.”
“Especially since I was harmed, my name and identity vanished along with it. Only my master and the senior sister who taught me martial arts know my true name. How could he have found out? This is indeed strange.”
Meanwhile, those hidden behind the invisibility stone watched tensely, their eyes fixed unwaveringly on the bamboo pavilion. Only the old beggar, holding a wine gourd, sipped steadily and softly praised, “Good wine, good wine.”
The fallen scholar, originally focused entirely on the pavilion, heard the words “good wine” and immediately felt his drinking spirit stirred. He stealthily leapt forward, snatched the wine gourd, eager to share a drink.
To his surprise, the gourd was unexpectedly light. Knowing something was amiss, he shook it, hearing no sloshing of wine inside. Disappointed, he angrily confronted the old beggar, “You selfish person! Can I still be friends with you? Take that!”
With that, he tossed the empty gourd like a bullet down the Nine Nether Peak.
The old beggar, caught off guard by the scholar’s anger over the lack of wine, tried to catch it but was too slow. With furious eyes, he scolded, “I never expected you, a poor fellow of such an age, to have such a fiery temper! You’re so greedy and quick to anger! You threw down my precious wine gourd. If it breaks, I’ll hold your head responsible!”
The fallen scholar snorted coldly, “My lifelong passion is wine. You can beat me or scold me without anger from me, but refusing me wine is worse than digging up my ancestors’ graves. I only threw your gourd and didn’t strike you—that’s being polite. I don’t need friends like you. Now get lost.”
The old beggar smiled faintly and said, “If your passion is wine, then I am a wine lover too. This gourd is my second life. If I can’t find it, I swear I’ll take your head off!”
With that, he floated down Nine Nether Peak to search for his wine gourd.
Seeing him leave, the fallen scholar’s temper settled. He turned his gaze back to the pavilion. Meng Biyu parted her cherry lips slightly and asked, “Junior Brother, what are you thinking about?”
The masked figure wrote his thoughts on the jade tablet and held it upright against the bronze mirror for her to read.
Meng Biyu smiled mysteriously and said, “From what you say, the elderly scholar is certainly not your father. Perhaps he is an uncle or some elder relative.”
The masked figure lowered his head in thought. He recalled his father once saying he had an uncle who, in his youth, enjoyed making friends. Shortly after the grandfather’s death, the brothers divided the family estate, and the uncle, living independently, became even more reckless.
His house was always full of guests, and he not only fed and entertained them but demanded money, quickly squandering his inheritance in three to five years. Although the father advised him, he stubbornly ignored it, causing a rift between brothers.
Strong-willed, after losing his property, the uncle neither sought help from the father nor stayed in contact, changing his name and disappearing to a distant land. Now, the elderly scholar’s appearance resembles the father’s closely; could he be the uncle? But if he had been gone for decades without returning home, how would he know the masked figure’s name?
He recalled what his father told him and then wrote, “I remember my father has a younger brother; they look alike, but he left home young, knows nothing of family matters, so how could he know my name?”
Meng Biyu asked, “Did that old scholar interfere with your plans?”
The masked figure shook his head and wrote, “His actions confuse me. Sometimes he seems very sympathetic but also prevents me from killing.”
Reading the words on the mirror, Meng Biyu said calmly, “Do you find his behavior strange? I think he hasn’t seriously obstructed your actions.”
The masked figure stared at the beautiful face reflected in the bronze mirror, pondering recent events.
Meng Biyu, extremely intelligent, guessed what troubled him from his expression and smiled softly. “What’s on your mind? Why keep staring at the mirror?”
He wrote again, “I have a cousin, once a noble lady. Unexpectedly, she left home to study martial arts for years at Wudang Mountain. Now she searches for me everywhere and is with that elderly scholar. Blinded by emotion, I unintentionally revealed my identity.”
Meng Biyu read the words and, far from surprised, calmly smiled, “She has deep feelings for you and is your childhood companion. Meeting again is cause for joy; you should be happy.”
He wrote further, “When I see the old scholar and my cousin, conflicts arise, and I feel inferior. Though I resolve not to meet them, I can’t help but secretly follow them.”
Meng Biyu smiled wryly, “Humans, as the wisest beings, are full of emotion. Your unusual feelings are natural and common.”
He wrote, “They hinder my plans and increase my inner torment.”
Meng Biyu said, “If you want to reclaim your true self, you must control your emotions and avoid meeting them as much as possible.”
He hesitated, then wrote, “Senior Sister, descending the mountain, I was greatly threatened mentally. With the junior sister in this remote place, I feel fine, but once among others, I find no one as unfortunate as I. I feel utterly isolated and dare not face anyone.”
Meng Biyu sighed softly, “I understand your pain. Endure hardship and bear it with utmost patience. Only then can you relieve this deep-seated sorrow.”
He shook his head slightly and wrote, “I’m close to giving up. I wish to live out my life in a remote, quiet place, never to see another soul again.”
Meng Biyu frowned and chided gently, “No one lives truly alone. Such a quiet place does not exist in the world…”
He wrote, “I believe there is.”
Meng Biyu asked, “Where? Write it down for me to see.”
Suddenly, tears welled in his eyes as he wrote, “Leaving this wicked world means not seeing anyone anymore.”
Meng Biyu’s beautiful eyes flared with anger as she reproached him, “How can you be so hopeless? The Li family line was meant to be kind and enduring, flowing on through generations. How could it end with you?”
“If you think this way, you are not only unfilial but also a great sinner to the Li clan. To escape responsibility because of pain—can you face your ancestors? Moreover, your father waits every day in the pavilion. Can you bear to abandon him and despise life?”
The fallen scholar felt overwhelming shame and emotion upon hearing this rebuke. He sighed, “Ashamed, truly ashamed! Hearing the Senior Sister’s rebuke of the masked figure, am I not also an unfilial sinner?”
Miss Jie, too, was deeply moved and could no longer help but respect Meng Biyu. The jealousy that had surged earlier completely vanished.
The Flower Interpreter and the Hundred Flowers Maiden, both having endured much suffering, sincerely sympathized with the masked figure’s misfortune and silently sighed for him.