Chapter Fifty-Three: The Trial

“It is indeed so. The duet of zither and flute is performed with such exquisite skill, reaching the pinnacle of mastery, yet it lacks a certain spirit,” Shen Lian set down his wine cup and chopsticks, speaking softly.

“What is this spirit?” the host asked leisurely.

“To sense it in the heart, though it is neither seen nor heard,” Shen Lian replied, turning to the beautiful maid who played the zither. “Miss, may I borrow your instrument to show what I mean by spirit?”

The maid seemed not to hear him, unmoved and expressionless.

The host gave a slight nod, his gaze falling upon the maid, shining a bit more brightly.

Only then did she hand the zither to Shen Lian.

He observed carefully. From the moment he began to speak to when the maid handed over the zither, her expression never changed, nor did her eyes, as if she were a machine.

The zither had seven strings. Shen Lian plucked one lightly, and a clear sound flowed out, like running water.

His fingers moved faster and faster, the pitch rising ever higher. In terms of skill, he simply had nimble fingers, nothing particularly remarkable, and there was no trace of the spirit he claimed.

Yet when Shen Lian’s tune reached a certain height, both Xiao Zhu and Ku Hui suddenly could hear nothing at all.

But Shen Lian’s fingers continued to move upon the strings, swift beyond belief, as if he had grown many arms.

A look of pain crossed his face, but his hands did not stop.

The beautiful maids’ forms began to twist, the dishes and wine upon the table trembled lightly.

Shen Lian had lied; he had no spirit to convey through music.

This world surpassed Earth in many ways, but it had its shortcomings.

Shen Lian had studied physics before; when sound frequency exceeds a certain limit, humans cannot hear it. Such sound waves are called ultrasound. Common bats use it to navigate.

But the effect of ultrasound is not limited to this. Shen Lian exerted himself to the utmost, pushing beyond his own limits to produce this extremely high-frequency sound—not so simple as it seemed.

Ultrasound is, after all, a form of energy transmission, and these maids were not real people.

As the powerful sound waves penetrated their bodies, their insides began to vibrate.

Like bursting bubbles, the last wave exploded, drenching the pavilion floor.

These beauties, it turned out, were illusions conjured from water, false yet nearly real.

The zither strings snapped, Shen Lian’s hands were already torn and bloody.

He quietly pulled his hands apart, not sparing them a glance, sighing softly.

The host’s expression was lofty, calm. “Boy, are you not afraid I’ll punish you for this?”

“I am but a sparrow, you are a great roc. If you wish to deal with me, it would never be out of anger—it would not be worth it.” Shen Lian’s blood stained his robes, but the wounds wriggled and soon stopped bleeding.

Grotesque as they were, they struck fear into the hearts of those who saw.

Xiao Zhu could not fathom why Shen Lian did this. The host, though not a deity or Buddha, was surely a demon; offending him might mean no hope even in the next life.

“The human world is filthy; rare is the seed that seeks the Way. What is your name?” the host asked.

The fine food and wine had not been for nothing. From beginning to end, the host dictated their every move; they dared not resist.

Power was truth.

Even the musicians were chosen by him, not giving the three any choice.

He appeared regal, but in truth was tyrannical to the extreme.

He also planted in their hearts an unshakable will to obey him.

The heart's way is perilous—not in fear, but in vigilance.

If one loses the spirit, whether in martial arts or cultivation, one chases the shadow, not the substance.

If Shen Lian did not have the resolve to seek the Way, even to die, why leave the Shen family at all? He could have sought wealth and comfort for life.

His actions, though seemingly rude and courting death, were to fulfill his own heart.

And, as he said, the other was a great roc in the clouds, while he was but a sparrow among branches—worlds apart. If the host truly wished him harm, there was no escape. Better to make a bold move and force the host’s true intentions.

“Well said—not worth it. You two are mere mortals; leave now. Boy, you stay.”

With a wave of his sleeve, the host sent Xiao Zhu and Ku Hui flying as if borne by the wind, vanishing to who knows where.

Only the host and Shen Lian remained in the pavilion.

“Someone once used a favor to ask me to teach you swordsmanship. But my sword is not so easily learned, so I had to test you. As for those two children—our meeting was fate. Had any of you three passed my trial, I would have taught that person swordsmanship. If you fail, so much the better—I can laugh at that fellow for wasting a favor.”

The host laughed coldly, apparently at odds with the one who requested Shen Lian be taught.

“May I refuse to learn?” Shen Lian smiled.

“Boy, some things are not up to you. If you wish to be your own master, you’re far from it yet.” The host was utterly dismissive.

“Then please teach me now, so we need not waste any more time,” Shen Lian said, his gaze steady, showing no fear.

“You think my swordsmanship is easy? Even a touch of its essence would suffice for you to stand firm before attaining immortality. I was only testing your courage; without it, you’d be nothing but a corpsekeeper your whole life.” At this, he began to cough.

“You don’t seem well. Clearly, you’re ill.”

“What do you know? My illness is one that ninety-nine percent of cultivators would wish for. The world is filthy and unbearable; only cultivators who have entered the ‘Stainless and Pure’ realm find it hard to adapt, suffering in every breath.”

“You have decent talent; in any immortal sect, you’d have no trouble entering. Yet even if you reach the end of your life, you may never touch my heels.”

The host said this without any pride, merely as a matter of fact.

Shen Lian thought: Such arrogance—this man must be famed in the cultivation world. But who could have persuaded him to teach me? Could it be Xin Fourteenth Lady and her father?

He knew nothing of the figures in the cultivation world—nor the host’s prowess, nor the status of Xin Fourteenth Lady and her father.

“Since I have no choice, please continue your test,” Shen Lian said with a slight smile.

***

Thirty miles outside Shang Family Fortress, upon a small hill.

The Three Heroes of the Northern Desert lay at the foot of the slope, Xiao Zhu and Ku Hui nearby.

Xiao Zhu said coldly, “Master Ku Hui, you are broad in knowledge. Do you know who that person is?”

Ku Hui replied, “Miss Xiao, your family hails from a branch of Flying Immortal Island in the South Sea. You should know more than us outsiders about the cultivation world.”

“You even managed to uncover that? It seems you truly wish to seek immortality. But what good is it? Even on Flying Immortal Island, no one has really attained eternal life.”