Chapter Sixty-Three: Unspoken. Unspeakable

Poisonous Thousand Hands’ expression changed abruptly. He raised his head to look at the newcomer and said in a strange tone, “I’ve long heard that Daoist Unspeaking and the others are all esteemed elders of the Gate of No Life. Is this how your sect teaches its disciples? There’s a saying, ‘If you won’t respect the monk, then at least respect the Buddha.’ Surely you should give Poison Sect some face, shouldn’t you?”

Daoist Unspeaking wore the traditional Daoist crown and robe, holding a whisk in his hand. Like the others of the ‘Un-’ generation, he was acting under the sect leader’s orders, patrolling Tianfeng Qishou. As soon as he entered the mountain gate, he heard disciples report that many unknown people (without invitations) had arrived at the Thunder Hall. The Gate of No Life had never had a rule against outsiders, so they couldn’t turn away these ambitious visitors. Still, it didn’t mean just anyone could come and go as they pleased. Polite words and good hospitality were offered, but those who lacked manners deserved to be taught a lesson.

Poisonous Thousand Hands waited for a reply, but Daoist Unspeaking merely smiled and said nothing. Instead, he led his fellow disciples to greet Autumn Water Without Trace and Xing Yan Zong. Greetings and pleasantries exchanged, he turned to Poisonous Thousand Hands and said, “I’ve heard your sect leader is always courteous and humble. I, Unspeaking, am not worthy, but someday I’ll seek his guidance. I hope your sect won’t refuse a mountain man at your door.”

“Of course,” Poisonous Thousand Hands wasn’t easily fazed, but Unspeaking’s gentle rebuke left him unable to respond. He suppressed his frustration and said, “Daoist, we’ve come a long way to attend your young master’s investiture. Yet the host has not appeared—shouldn’t there be an explanation? Your disciple entered with such arrogance. We are all sect leaders or chief stewards. If you don’t explain, aren’t you risking the charge of neglecting your followers?”

Daoist Unspeaking nodded with a smile. “Ming Ying, come here and apologize to Chief Poison. He’s gracious not to hold it against you and kindly offers guidance. Hurry and thank him.”

Ming Ying, the young man mentioned before, didn’t move. Unspeaking slapped the back of his head. “You little rascal, did you not hear your master?”

“Master…” Ming Ying rubbed his head and looked at his master, thinking, could you be gentler next time? Even if it’s a performance, must it be so real?

“What are you standing there for? Hurry up.” Unspeaking urged.

“Thank you.” Ming Ying cupped his hands, but didn’t even look at Poisonous Thousand Hands.

Xing Yan Zong and Autumn Water Without Trace intervened, advising Poisonous Thousand Hands to let it go—arguing with a disciple was beneath his dignity.

Poisonous Thousand Hands swallowed his anger, cursing the disciple inwardly. Though they were of the same generation, Unspeaking had deliberately elevated Ming Ying, preventing him from retaliating. He sat down, sleeves flicked, and drank his tea in silence.

Those who had counted on Poisonous Thousand Hands to stir trouble and profit from it now saw Unspeaking, Unspoken, and Unheard all present in the hall. They pinched their noses and held their tongues.

Mu Yan quietly pulled Unspeaking aside to a side hall and explained the situation. Unspeaking immediately understood, patted his shoulder, and sent him to the Two Insect Courtyard to check on things. Matters here would be handled by them.

Xing Yan Zong saw Mu Yan leave the main hall and Unspeaking emerge from the side, asking, “What’s going on?”

Unspeaking directed Unspoken and Unheard to escort those without invitations outside, and sent Ming Ying to arrange the banquet for the guests.

Soon, two rows of bamboo tables were set up outside, disciples brought cushions, and invited everyone to be seated. The guests, already in the wrong, couldn’t protest now. They glanced at each other, covered their noses, and took their seats.

After a short while, fine wine and tea were served. The awkwardness faded, and lively conversation resumed.

Once the guests were settled, Unspeaking apologized to Xing Yan Zong and Autumn Water Without Trace, then explained, “The child just entered the sect and was overwhelmed by the occasion. I hope you two will forgive him.”

The two exchanged glances. “Daoist, you’re too polite. It’s just a minor thing—not worth your concern.”

“Hmph.”

Unspeaking turned to see Fisherman Brook speak. He approached and said, “Ghost Needle, do you mean the Gate of No Life has failed in hospitality? If so, I apologize on behalf of the mountain folk.”

Fisherman Brook glanced at Poisonous Thousand Hands and swept his eyes over the crowd. “Enough idle talk—it’s almost noon. The Gate of No Life’s delay is pointless. Why not bring out the person early?”

There are only a handful of guests, after all. What’s the delay for? Hmph… what’s the meaning of this?

Unspeaking smiled and said, “That’s reasonable, but…”

Two Insect Courtyard

Huai Yin watched as the Jade Fragment slowly stabilized and said, “Thank you both for your hard work. Huai Yin is deeply grateful.”

With that, he rose and bowed deeply.

Unwind lifted him up and said, “Rise. For those who cultivate the Dao, saving others is our duty—it’s only right.”

Lord Perch Sage withdrew his energy, slowly opened his eyes, and grumbled, “I told you that wretch is a scoundrel. When you don’t need him, he’s a nuisance. When you do, he’s nowhere to be found.”

If Que Yunzi were here, they wouldn’t have needed to work so hard.

“You know his temperament. Since arriving at the Gate of No Life, he’s vanished. The disciples caring for him said he complained that our wine isn’t strong enough.” Unwind paced the courtyard, the wind’s dryness unsettling him.

Time was running out. If he didn’t return soon, he’d miss the investiture…

Lord Perch Sage stretched, kneaded his shoulder, and walked out, cursing, “Old drunkard.”

Just then, Mu Yan hurried in. “Grandmaster, Grandmaster…”

“What’s the rush?” Unwind caught the nearly stumbling Mu Yan and helped him up, immediately noticing his injuries. He asked angrily, “What happened?”

Mu Yan glanced at Unwind, pulled away, and said urgently, “Just flesh wounds—a little medicine will do. Still, if you don’t go out soon, those people will cause trouble.”

“Hmph, let them. I hardly invited anyone, and they showed up unasked. What right have they?” Unwind was furious—his disciple had been beaten as if he were already dead.

Lord Perch Sage said, “Go to the Thunder Hall. I’ll watch things here until you return.”

“Thank you. Mu Yan, follow me…”

“Yes.” Mu Yan thanked Lord Perch Sage and hurried after him, calling, “Grandmaster, wait for me…”

Lord Perch Sage looked up at Forbidden Mountain, his expression grave. He paced the courtyard a few times, then suddenly stopped. If they didn’t return by noon, he’d swallow his pride and head up there himself.

On Forbidden Mountain, the battle was reaching its climax. Once again, Snow Crane drove Blood Marquis back to the lake’s surface. Blood Marquis finally lost his composure (though his eyes were always red) and his heart as well.

He transformed into his true form, churning the lake into chaos so that Snow Crane and Ming Yi couldn’t approach. Taking the chance, he spat out his tongue, wrapping it around Tearless at the lake’s bottom.

He opened his mouth, ready to swallow the person whole.

“Junior brother…”

“No, you mustn’t.”

Both channeled their true energy, rushing to save him. But they crashed into a wall of water, thrown back several meters before regaining their footing. In that instant, Tearless was only three inches from the serpent’s maw.

Too late to save him…

Just when they thought Tearless was doomed, the unconscious youth suddenly opened his eyes.

Twin beams shot from his gaze. Blood Marquis was caught off guard, the rays piercing his eyes.

He instantly released Tearless, transformed into human form, and knelt.

Ming Yi and Snow Crane didn’t know what had happened, but seized the chance—one grabbed, one shielded—and teleported Tearless to the shore.

“Little brother? Little brother…” Ming Yi called anxiously, seeing him unconscious, quickly transferring true energy.

Meanwhile, Blood Marquis trembled on his knees, inexplicably afraid.

He murmured, pleading, “Spare me, spare me…”

Snow Crane said, “Ming Yi, look.”

“What’s going on…?” Ming Yi glanced down at Tearless. Could it be related to him?

He wondered—so little brother has secrets.

“I don’t know. Let’s watch and see,” said Snow Crane, also sensing something amiss.

Does Tearless have secrets? Of course. On Imperial Island, the Third Prince gave his eyes to Tearless before dying.

They were treasures—not as miraculous as the Imperial Stone, but unique to Tearless. Though the Imperial Bird had an inner core, its true cultivation was stored in its eyes.

The inner core was its vital point.

During duels, the eyes couldn’t be separated, but the inner core could—so they fought with their cores.

If the core is destroyed, life is short.

That’s why the Third Prince died, but his eyes remained precious.

His cultivation passed to Tearless, enabling Tearless to withstand Tianfeng Qishou’s wind and grow up like a normal person, his eyes spared the fate of Unwind.

A fragment of the prince’s soul lingered, unwilling to leave Tearless, usually dormant. If not for Tearless’s brush with death, it wouldn’t have emerged.

Now, what Blood Marquis saw was the Third Prince.

Imperial Birds are born nemeses to serpents—no matter the species, they possess an absolute bloodline advantage. Serpents cannot resist this primal fear; instinct compels them to submit.

So Blood Marquis’s misfortune was deserved. Had he endured a little longer, his tribulation would have ended and he could have left.

Unwind had originally subdued him to temper his character, intending to free him once the time came.

He was fierce and combative, but not wantonly cruel. Unwind meant only to teach him.

Who could have guessed, eight hundred years later, with his tribulation nearly over, Tearless would arrive?

By a twist of fate, the Third Prince awakened.

The Third Prince said, “Submit, or die. Choose.”

Blood Marquis was terrified but not brainless. He rolled his eyes and asked, “How would I die? And submit—to whom?”

Is it you, or that little brat?

“Does it matter?” said the Third Prince.

“It matters. You are strong, I’d submit willingly. But him—not a chance.”

“Why?”

“I, Blood Marquis, earned my name through real deeds. Submitting to a child would be a joke.”

Blood Marquis knelt, trembling.

The Third Prince listened and replied coldly, “He is me. Submit to him, and you submit to me. Otherwise, I’ll destroy your inner core and make you wish for death.”

“You…”

“Submit, or die.” The Third Prince was in a hurry—Tearless was too young, his soul couldn’t sustain the prince’s presence for long. If it lasted, the child would suffer.

Blood Marquis looked up, meeting the prince’s gaze, and instantly wilted.

He didn’t want to die—he’d pretend to submit, then seek revenge when possible.

The Third Prince’s eyes suddenly turned into thin blades, slashing at Blood Marquis’s core.

Blood Marquis collapsed in fear, shouting, “I submit! I submit!”

The blade transformed into a red thread, entering his core and coiling around it.

Blood Marquis’s heart sank—this time, it was truly over.

“Remember your words, or I’ll kill you,” said the Third Prince, returning as a beam of light to Tearless’s eyes.

Though it seemed slow, it all happened in moments.

As soon as the prince returned, Tearless awoke, unaware of what had transpired within him.

He gazed at Ming Yi, weakly calling, “Senior brother?”

What had happened to him?

Why did he feel so tired, so weary?

Ming Yi soothed him. “It’s nothing—you just played too hard. Let’s get you home.”

Tearless nodded, closing his eyes again—he was truly exhausted.

Snow Crane rose, carrying Yu Qingchen. “We’re almost out of time. Let’s go.”

Ming Yi nodded, cradling Tearless as he departed.

Blood Marquis panicked, leaping up from the ground. “Wait—”