As Ning Feiyun spoke those words, a dark cloud seemed to settle around him. He swayed a bit, as though he were standing on the edge of a precipice, gazing down into a pit of despair that threatened to swallow him up.

His wound had begun to close and he wasn’t bleeding as badly as before, but he still looked just as pale as he had when Song Mingzhen came upon him after the ambush. The emotions that always simmered beneath the paper-thin mask of his expression had broken through entirely to flood his features, his brows knitted and his gaze half-vacant, half-fixed on the man lying slumped over against a tree. It was as though the hope he’d been clinging to had evaporated— even though he himself may not have played a role in the recent events, it turned out he wasn’t entirely without connection to them after all.

“His name is Ning Zhifeng. Before I became the commander of the mountain patrols, he was my direct superior. He is the one who taught me to navigate the mountain paths, all of the secret ways and hidden mechanisms…” Ning Feiyun muttered, reaching to feel the unconscious Ning Zhifeng’s pulse as he spoke. His words, spoken in a voice that was barely louder than a whisper, seemed to slur together a bit. There was the faintest note of disbelief in his tone, as though he still couldn’t quite believe that all of this was true.

Song Mingzhen still felt a dazed and unsettled himself. He was still reeling a bit from the odd lapse in his cultivation, and from the violent impulses that had consumed him during the battle, leaving the valley soaked in blood. The copper taste had begun to fade from his mouth, but the slight burning sensation within his dantian still remained. Now that the rush of battle was fading, he found his legs a little shaky too, and feared that if he tried to take a single step forward he might end up falling over.

“But… didn’t you tell me that the members of the mountain patrol were already accounted for?” he said. His voice was hoarse— and the words that left his lips hardly felt like his own, but as though a stranger was speaking with his own tongue. “How could such a person’s disappearance be overlooked?”

After all, since Ning Feiyun was the current commander, then this Ning Zhifeng must have already retired— despite that, as someone who was surely quite strong, and who had held considerable authority and capability, wouldn’t he also have been questioned like everyone else? From what Song Mingzhen had heard, the investigations had been quite thorough.

Ning Feiyun bit his lip, then glanced up. “That’s because… He has already been dead for seven years.”

Song Mingzhen blinked, not having expected this answer. “Dead?”

“That is… we all thought as much. During the war, not long after the attack on Baidong Mountain, a patrol he was leading was ambushed by a group of evil cultivators that had taken up hiding in the mountains. By the time reinforcements arrived, the enemies had been wiped out, but the commander had also fallen in battle. At the time, he had already reached late Zhuji stage, and though there was no corpse, his spiritual weapon was found broken on the ground and the nearby area showed signs of a spiritual detonation.”

Beginning at Zhuji stage, cultivators would became capable of storing ever-greater amounts of spiritual qi within their bodies. When they were killed, unless measures had been taken to mitigate or absorb it, that stored energy would be released into their surroundings as a spiritual detonation. If the one killed was only early Zhuji stage, this wouldn’t cause too much damage— but if they had reached higher levels, and especially if they’d managed to cultivate a jindan, both immediate and long-term effects could be quite devastating.

The released energy from such a detonation would sink into the surrounding environment. In the best outcome, it would nourish the land, creating a small pocket rich with spiritual qi. Rogue cultivators would often take advantages of these places to increase their own power, since they were not under the direct jurisdiction of the great clans. More frequently, though, since such an event was the result of a violent death, it would not be so peaceful. It would create an area of unstable, volatile energy— and these places would nurture monsters and demons that would then spring forth to plague the mortal world.

Song Mingzhen had heard that, during the war with the Nameless and its aftermath, monster activity had increased sharply. The cultivation world had not only needed to hunt down the rest of the heretics, but they’d also needed to shield the mortal world from being attacked by demonic beasts. By now, most of these places had been stabilized. It was fortunate that Baidong Mountain sat atop the spirit caves, whose energy could easily be drawn upon to restore stability to the area— after all, that place had seen one of the most devastating battles of the war, with many high-level cultivators being slain all at once. In the days immediately following, it had certainly been extremely chaotic, even dangerous, to be in the area unless one’s cultivation and willpower was strong enough to withstand the high levels of volatile energy.

Come to think of it, he wondered why Qin Wenying’s death hadn’t caused so much a stir in that respect. Either the assassin had been prepared and mitigated the damage, or the late clan leader’s cultivation really hadn’t been that high…

“In that case… then, this Ning Zhifeng must have faked his death to betray the cultivation world and turn to the side of the heretics,” Song Mingzhen mused. “Perhaps he broke his spiritual weapon on purpose, to conceal his treachery.”

Ning Feiyun didn’t respond right away. Instead, he reached into the pouch at his waist and took out a signal flare, releasing a silver-hued firework into the sky to call for reinforcements. Then, he bent over and picked up the spear that Ning Zhifeng had been fighting with.

“This weapon… it is a crude replica, but in many ways its appearance and aura is similar to the one he used as commander of the mountain patrol,” he said, his voice low. “This… is the weapon that wounded me.”

“Ah, right— you were injured.” Song Mingzhen suddenly snapped out of the haze he’d fallen into, remembering his companion’s injury. He tilted his head to get a look— though Ning Feiyun’s posture was a little bent and his face was pale, it seemed like the bleeding had really almost stopped. “How is it?”

Ning Feiyun glanced up briefly, then back down at the spear, whose tip was dark and glistening with blood. “Not too bad. It wasn’t the injury itself that caused me to fall into such a state… but seeing this weapon again, and the fighting style of my old commander…”

His voice trailed off, and eventually he bowed his head.

“Forgive me. I was shocked to see this person who I’ve long thought was dead, and because of that I left you to fight alone when you have yet to fully recover yourself.”

Song Mingzhen waved off his apology, releasing a long, slightly shaky breath. “There’s no need to apologize,” he shook his head, “I can understand that— besides, I was able to handle it well enough in the end.”

Ning Feiyun’s expression was still a little hesitant— whether or not Song Mingzhen’s assertion of “well enough” was true was still up for debate. Though his demeanor seemed to have gone somewhat back to normal now, for awhile he’d seemed almost as out of it as Ning Feiyun. Still… Ning Feiyun didn’t mention it. They’d both need to be examined by a physician once they returned to Baidong Mountain, so any injuries or troubles Song Mingzhen had sustained would be addressed then.

It didn’t take too long for the reinforcements to arrive. The flare had been spotted by a nearby mountain patrol, who quickly flew over to meet them— crossing an area that had taken a day on foot in a matter of moments. Ning Zhifeng, still unconscious, was placed in restraints, while the rest of the fallen rogue cultivators’ bodies were examined. Four of the five were dead, but the young woman who wielded the red silk was still just barely clinging to life. The patrol took both of them back to have their injuries treated by the mountain prison’s physician, so that they could be properly questioned later. Meanwhile, Song Mingzhen and Ning Feiyun prepared to return to Baidong Mountain.

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“Your injury needs to be treated, so we ought to fly back instead of returning on foot,” Song Mingzhen suggested. “Since you know the terrain best, why don’t you fly us back? I can help to keep you steady.”

Ning Feiyun’s face turned impossibly paler, and he shook his head. “En… Song-ge, there’s no need for that. I’m certain I can handle something so simple on my own…”

Song Mingzhen sighed. He hadn’t wanted to mention it, but… “I’ve had a bit of trouble maintaining my connection with the Chengxiao sword. It’s probably because my cultivation base still hasn’t fully recovered… I fear I may fall out of the sky on my own.”

How embarrassing. He felt a warmth rise to his cheeks, gaze drifting toward the ground.

Ning Feiyun looked surprised. “But didn’t you fly here from Jieyun Hall?”

“I did. But… back then I hadn’t just finished fighting an unexpected battle.”

“… I see.”

For a moment, it seemed like Ning Feiyun was going to refuse again. The question of whether to help or not warred in his gaze, as if he didn’t fully trust that Song Mingzhen was being truthful. In the end, though, he yielded.

“Come on, then.”

He made a gesture with the hand that wasn’t clasped over his wound, and his Shuangci spear that had been placed on the ground nearby sprang up, shaking off a layer of snow that sparkled like stars in its faint spiritual light. Song Mingzhen stepped up behind him, and as they rose up into the cloudy night sky, he placed his hands in the center of his back. Though his cultivation was still a little unsettled, it wasn’t so volatile anymore, so he sent a gentle trickle of spiritual qi into Ning Feiyun’s meridians as they cut through the clouds heading northwest. Ning Feiyun took a brief, shuddering breath, and they dipped down ever so slightly in the air. With a concerned frown, Song Mingzhen drew back his spiritual power, unsure if he’d overestimated his stability.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No— no,” Ning Feiyun shook his head, but he seemed to tremble a bit. “It was… I was merely a little surprised.”

“Ah— I said I would help to steady you.”

“Yes… I suppose you did.”

“You’re still quite pale. May I continue?”

A moment passed in silence, then Ning Feiyun nodded, and Song Mingzhen once more began to channel his spiritual power into his companion’s body.

They passed the rest of the flight this way, and by the time they landed Ning Feiyun seemed to have regained a bit of color in his cheeks. Still, Song Mingzhen insisted that he go directly to the medical ward of Baiyu Palace to have his wound treated, while he went to report to Ning Jianlin in his companion’s stead. After another bit of hesitation, Ning Feiyun agreed, and Song Mingzhen wove his way through the halls toward Ning Jianlin’s study.

The good-natured clan leader listened as Song Mingzhen recounted the events of the day, as well as the identity of the perpetrators. The relief on his expression about hearing that the rogue cultivators had been caught gradually faded, his visage darkening when he learned that the one leading the group was none other than the former mountain patrol commander. He became even more grave when Song Mingzhen told him that the Second General also had not been among them.

“Once the prisoners wake they must be interrogated,” Ning Jianlin said, “The former commander would be familiar with the region, and he would have no doubt kept his equipment when he defected… so that certainly explains how they were able to infiltrate and escape. But… the matter of the missing prisoner is still troubling.”

“I agree,” Song Mingzhen nodded… though, in the back of their mind he felt a sense of doubt— a hazy confusion, as though they were overlooking some other factor.

Ning Jianlin, however, either didn’t feel the same or wasn’t letting it show. Instead, he knit his brows and spoke again in a low voice, “How is Feiyun? He was very close with the commander, and Ning Zhifeng’s death was quite devastating for him… back then he was very depressed. Now, to think that the person he admired so much turned out to be a traitor…”

“Ning-san-gongzi is doing as well as can be expected,” Song Mingzhen answered truthfully, “To say he were entirely unaffected would be inaccurate, but his character is strong enough. He’s not fallen into despair.”

It was true that Ning Feiyun had looked rather upset, but in the end he’d overcome that— on the way back he seemed, like Song Mingzhen, to have mostly gone back to his old self. When Song Mingzhen had sent him off to see a physician, the vacant look had receded from his eyes and his expression, while still worried, was no longer so tense.

“That’s good… I suppose many years have passed since then,” Ning Jianlin nodded. “He is also more secure in his position now than he once was. Back when I first took him into my family, he had some difficulty adjusting. He was very hard-working, but his temperament was timid and he did not make friends easily, even with his own elder brothers. Unlike the other divisions, status is not taken into account when choosing members of the mountain patrol— only aptitude. Even though Ning Zhifeng comes from a distant branch family, his capabilities still allowed him to rise to the rank of commander. Perhaps that is why young Feiyun, while he was still uncertain about his status, was so comfortable with him.”

He went on to tell how Ning Feiyun, ever since he first came to Baidong Mountain, had been extremely diligent in studies and trainings, and how he had qualified for the mountain patrol when he was only twelve years old. Seeing that he had a lot of potential, Ning Jianlin had entrusted his adopted son’s further training to the current mountain patrol commander, and the two had quickly grown close. After only a few years had gone by, Ning Zhifeng had already chosen the third young master to succeed him— something which Ning Jianlin had enthusiastically agreed to.

“He was quite highly respected by both his subordinates as well as the other commanders, and never showed any sign of disloyalty,” Ning Jianlin sighed, “This turn of events… no one would have expected it. It seems, though, that he kept his traitorous thoughts well-hidden. Even though he could have easily sown discord between Feiyun and myself, he never took such an opportunity.”

How curious… while Song Mingzhen wasn’t exactly sure why the clan leader was taking this time to tell him so much about Ning Feiyun’s childhood, he couldn’t help but wonder what had driven Ning Zhifeng to turn against his clan in the first place. The Nameless sought the destruction of the cultivation world… why would a legitimate cultivator betray his family and join their side?

“Ning-zongzhu… may I have permission to question the prisoner once he wakes?” he asked. “After all, it seems that Ning Zhifeng was also involved in the attack on my clan’s territory a few months ago.”

Ning Jianlin agreed almost immediately. “It’s only reasonable that you should be permitted to do so— you also played a significant role in his capture. Besides, I’m certain if you did not question him now, Song-zongzhu would send someone to do so after he heard that the cases were connected.”

After the conclusion of their meeting, Song Mingzhen made his way to the medical ward where he found Ning Feiyun sitting on a cot, dressed in his inner clothes. The bitter-earthen smell of herbal medicine was thick in the air, and Baiyu Palace’s physician, who had just finished treating Ning Feiyun’s wound a moment ago, offered to have a look at Song Mingzhen’s injuries as well.

Song Mingzhen declined— though he had received a few minor wounds during the battle in addition to the cut on his shoulder, and his robes were stained with blood, the injuries had already healed without leaving so much as a scar. He hadn’t forgotten the odd lapse in cultivation he’d experienced during the battle, but now that they’d caught the culprits behind the attacks. It shouldn’t be too long before he returned home, and the issue wasn’t too pressing. He had also brought along some stabilizing pills just in case. In the end, he would much prefer to be treated by his own family’s physicians. They were already familiar with his condition, after all.

He sat down on an empty cot across from Ning Feiyun, who still seemed a little embarrassed.

“Ning-zongzhu inquired about your well-being,” he said. “How are your wounds?”

“I should recover fully in a few days’ time,” Ning Feiyun replied. “Though it was quite deep, the spear thrust did not hit any of my vital places. I was fortunate.”

Fortunate… or perhaps Ning Zhifeng had felt some sentimentality and spared his former protégé’s life, Song Mingzhen thought.

If his father were here, he’d more than likely suspect Ning Feiyun of colluding with the enemy… but Song Mingzhen had long since decided that his father’s opinion of Ning Feiyun was really far too harsh. The look of betrayal and despair in his eyes once he realized who was behind the attacks had been genuine— far from the look of someone who had known it from the start.

“You plan to speak to the commander, don’t you?” Ning Feiyun asked.

Song Mingzhen nodded. “I do.”

“Then… might I come with you? I…” he trailed off for a moment, looking down toward the ground.

“You want to find out why,” Song Mingzhen finished for him, “I understand. Truth be told, I’m also a little curious about that myself.”

Then, he gave a short laugh.

“Besides that, I have a feeling you’re a more effective interrogator than I am— of course you can come along, things might go more smoothly that way,” he said.

Ning Feiyun nodded, releasing a soft sigh. “… Thank you.”

Song Mingzhen spent a little longer in the medical ward before returning to the guest lodgings, where he took one of the stabilizing pills and spent the rest of the night in meditation. When morning came, Ning Feiyun had already been cleared to leave, and after hearing that Ning Zhifeng had regained consciousness, the two of them once more departed for the mountain prison.