The Path Toward Heaven

The cold fog had finally dispersed as the morning sun rose. The group gazed at the outgoing fog and saw a dozen snow foot monsters lying on the ground, completely dead.

The bigger snow foot monster with a higher state had only half of its body left, and it had been killed by Bai Zao with her magic treasure. Four of the monsters had their heads pierced through, and these were the ones killed by Yao Songshan using his Green Mountain sword style. The rest of the monsters had died a terrible death, with broken limbs and shells, their green blood spilling all over the place.

The rocks soaked in the poisonous blood were bubbling and emitting buzzing sounds; it was a horrifying scene.

The most shocking part was that more snow foot monsters’ corpses could be seen further out, one or two every one hundred feet, seen as far as thousand feet away.

They could even vaguely see more corpses further away than that.

How many snow foot monsters had died?

They had realized by now that the disappearing sounds outside the fog last night wasn’t due to something bad happening to Jing Jiu, but rather, it was he who had pursued those snow foot monsters.

They watched Jing Jiu with eyes full of shock, so did Yao Songshan.

The thick fog was so cold last night that it could even freeze the Spiritual Awareness. The fog was very harmful to Cultivation practitioners, but it didn’t affect the snow foot monsters, which could fight based solely on their instincts.

How did Jing Jiu do it?

…

…

Jing Jiu and Bai Zao stood together shoulder to shoulder.

One had on fluttering white clothing.

Another had on a fluttering white dress.

The young people smiled as they saw this; who wouldn’t like such a beautiful scene?!

One was the favored woman of the Center Sect, and another was the gifted swordsman of the Green Mountain Sect; they were truly a perfect pair.

“Whom do you support?”

The female disciple of the Hanging-Bell Sect asked Yao Songshan with the widened eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Yao Songshan.

The female disciple of the Hanging-Bell Sect perched her mouth, indicating her discontent.

Yao Songshan thought emotionlessly that though Bai Zao was pretty cool, he still had to support his senior master, Zhao Layue.

…

…

Though the scene of Jing Jiu and Bai Zao standing shoulder to shoulder looked quite nice, the two of them didn’t see the same pretty scene.

The snow foot monsters’ corpses were everywhere on the snowy ground, and green fluids more disgusting than moss spilled on the white snow.

Yet, they didn’t pay attention to this, their conversation starting without even referring to the scenes in front of them.

“You promised me not to touch the Old Ones that night,” said Bai Zao.

Jing Jiu had appeared just in time, so she didn’t have to take the golden pill; and her wound wasn’t so severe that she had couldn’t recover after taking some magic pills.

Jing Jiu thought about what she had said that night, and said, “I didn’t do anything to the Old Ones.”

Bai Zao looked at him seriously as she said, “You didn’t have the proof that Shi Fengchen had been involved in that event, so you shouldn’t have punished him.”

Jing Jiu said, “You didn’t have any proof either.”

What he referred to was the suspicion held by many, including those of the Center Sect, that it was Jing Jiu who had forced Shi Fengchen to commit suicide.

Bai Zao said, “You should know full well that Shi Fengchen had no power to convince the Old Ones.”

“You’re right, but I knew that he had contacted the people of the Jing Xin palace,” said Jing Jiu.

Bai Zao’s expression grew even more serious, as she asked, “Are you going to do something to the Crown Prince without any proof?”

“In fact, I did something affecting him first, and then other things happened afterwards,” Jing Jiu said.

In the eyes of the Crown Prince or anybody else, the assassination attempt on Zhao Layue was caused by Jing Jiu.

Bai Zao thought that she needed time to mull over what Jing Jiu had just said, so she didn’t continue discussing this topic. Pointing at the holes on the snowy ground, she said, “Those snow foot monsters didn’t come from the valley last night; they crawled out from the deep ground.”

Jing Jiu asked, “What do you want to tell me?”

Bai Zao said, “That Iron Thread Bug and the snow foot monsters of last night have probably been deep in the ground since the last monster invasion.”

“Could they hibernate for so long?” Jing Jiu questioned.

“As long as they are buried deep enough,” said Bai Zao.

Jing Jiu questioned again, “But why would they come out? I don’t think it was the Cultivation tournament that had awakened them.”

Bai Zao said, “I don’t think that they intended to attack us, but rather, they wanted to return to the Snowy Kingdom and encountered us accidentally. Though we don’t know what had happened in the Snowy Kingdom, I believe it is a significant event, as the monsters that have slept under the ground for hundreds of years all of a sudden woke up together.”

Jing Jiu thought that he indeed should come here to have a look.

…

…

It was noon, and the sun was quite hot, so it wasn’t a suitable time for meditating and cultivating.

The masters of disciples of various sects came out from their courtyards of West Mountain Residence in tandem. Following the recent routine, they sauntered over to the roofed corridor to look at those paintings of plum flowers.

Of course they were concerned mostly about the performance of their own disciples, and then about the performances of Luo Huainan, Bai Zao and Tong Lu. Bai Zao’s painting of plum flowers gained the Young Zen Master’s praise, and Luo Huainan and Tong Lu’s paintings had the most plum flowers. And it was said that they had reached the furthest on the snowy land.

The Jing Jiu’s painting of plum flowers had attracted attention of many people, but it hadn’t had any changes in last few days, and people had gradually lost interest in it.

As the painter walked out of the tall building by the mountainside, the crowd followed him. They couldn’t help but feel surprised when they found that the painter stopped in front of the Jing Jiu’s painting of plum flowers.

Had his group achieved something? Or…had somebody died again?

The odd thing was that the painter didn’t pick up the brush pen to paint the plum flowers, instead staring at the mostly empty painting with a confused expression.

After a while, he glanced at the file in his hand, seemingly to make sure about something, and then he kept staring at the painting blankly again.

Finally, a Cultivation practitioner couldn’t stand it anymore and asked, “What is the problem?”

The painter answered with a bitter face, “I don’t know how to paint it.”

Upon hearing this, people were troubled, thinking that all he needed to do was use his brush pen to add the necessary plum flowers or cross out some names, so what was so difficult doing it?

The wind sounded.

A dozen or so important figures in the Cultivation circle had arrive at the place.

The Sect Master of the Kunlun, the Sect Master of the Great Marsh, the Chief Monk of the Baotong Zen Temple, and Nan Wang had arrived, and an Elder in the Godly Period of the rarely seen Center Sect had also arrived. As the bell didn’t ring, the place didn’t have to be evacuated. The Cultivation practitioners bowed courteously in tandem and stepped aside, but they didn’t leave the place, wondering what had happened.

Looking at the painter, Nan Wang asked, “Why haven’t you painted yet?”

“I really don’t know how to do it,” the painter said with a bitter smile.

“Let me give it a try then.”

He Zhan walked out of a courtyard.

His talent in painting was beyond question. He had won second place in the painting tournament of the Plum Meeting. Yet, he didn’t participate in this year’s Cultivation tournament because of certain reasons.

The Sect Master of the Kunlun said coldly, “At least you can do something useful.”

Nan Wang said, “Paint it nicely.”

After bowing with a gentle smile, He Zhan walked up to the painting. He took over the file from the painter’s hand and had a look at it.

Though he had already guessed it, the words in the file still made him feel dizzy; and soon his face displayed a hint of a bitter smile, as he thought this was the reason why it was so hard to paint.

Thinking silently for a moment while looking at the painting, He Zhan took over the brush pen from the painter and dipped it in red ink, and then he was swinging his pen on the painting while shaking his wrist slightly.

Pah!!! Pah!!! Pah!!!

The sounds were as frequent as dense raindrops.

The dots created by the fresh red ink on the white paper looked like those very raindrops.

People were stunned, wondering what He Zhan was doing!

He Zhao didn’t heed others’ bewildered expressions. He changed to a thinner brush pen and dipped it in the black ink, and focused on drawing on the painting.

A black line appeared amongst the red dots full of the painting.

As the black line was very thin and light, one might not be able to notice it if he didn’t pay close attention to it.

People had gradually realized what he was doing.

The black line was the extended plum branch.

What about those bloody red dots on the painting? Were those the plum flowers blooming on the branch?

How many plum flowers were there?

It was quiet in front of the corridor.

People were shocked speechless.

What had actually happened in one night?