On the day of assembly, the sky had just brightened.
Bai Qingxue stood at the edge of the mountain peak, the Frost Moon Chant hanging at her waist. There was no snow on her shoulders, only a thin layer of mist being scattered by the mountain wind.
Behind Bai Qingxue stood the disciples of Xueji Peak, and further back were the cohorts from the other peaks. Qingyun Peak was lined up on the right, with Ye Qingyao standing in the middle of their queue. Clutching her grayish-blue token, she kept her head lowered, winding and unwinding the cord around her knuckles.
The boarding order for the flying boat had been arranged beforehand.
Bai Qingxue boarded first, followed by the disciples of Xueji Peak, who walked up the gangway in order.
A nearby deacon stood at the edge of the deck, watching the disciples board in single file, only stepping away once the crowd had dispersed.
The cabins were allocated on the upper deck of the flying boat.
Bai Qingxue pushed open the door to her cabin. The space was small, containing only a low table and a few meditation cushions. Outside the porthole, the silhouettes of the mountain peaks were slowly receding.
Bai Qingxue placed her storage bag by the table and leaned the Frost Moon Chant against the corner of the wall.
The sky outside was shifting from grayish-blue to a pale azure. Sunlight leaked through the gaps in the clouds, shattering into countless shimmering fragments of light.
There was a double knock at the door, and then it was pushed open. Lu Xueqing walked in carrying a tray, upon which sat a teapot and two cups.
She did not speak. She simply placed the tray on the low table, poured two cups of tea, and walked over to the porthole to stand side by side with Bai Qingxue.
It was as if nothing had happened over the past few days.
Bai Qingxue picked up one of the cups, her finger pad resting against the outer wall, feeling the warmth seep from the porcelain into her skin.
Lu Xueqing held her own cup in her hand, her eyes fixed on Bai Qingxue.
Standing before the porthole, Bai Qingxue watched the flying boat plunge into the first layer of the sea of clouds.
Clouds drifted past the window in dense clumps, resembling shredded cotton wool, their edges gilded with a layer of golden sunlight.
“When will we arrive?” Lu Xueqing asked.
“I do not know.”
Hearing this, Lu Xueqing did not ask further.
She took a sip of tea and placed the cup back on the tray, only to pick it up and take another sip. At this moment, Lu Xueqing seemed to need some action to fill the silence—or perhaps the loneliness—of standing side by side.
The light from outside the porthole illuminated the side of Bai Qingxue's face, making it glow softly.
Lu Xueqing glanced at her, then averted her gaze, letting it rest on the clouds receding outside.
Ning Qinghan sat on a cushion in the corner, her back resting against the cabin wall.
Her bare feet rested on the edge of the low table, the hem of her Daoist robe draping from her knees to reveal a well-proportioned calf.
Ning Qinghan's eyes were closed, her breathing steady. She looked as though she were asleep, or perhaps she was simply too lazy to open her eyes.
Occasionally, her toes would twitch slightly, as if she had stepped on uneven ground in a dream.
After a while, a disciple came up to deliver a jade slip. Seeing her bare feet propped on the table, the disciple paused for a brief moment, their eyes lingering on her instep before quickly looking away.
After placing the jade slip on the edge of the table, the disciple quickly retreated, but their voices still drifted back up from the stairs.
“Why is the person following Martial Aunt Bai always barefoot...?”
“Who knows? She doesn't look like a sect disciple either...” “It's rather improper, isn't it?”
Ning Qinghan's eyelashes fluttered, but she did not open her eyes. Her toes rubbed lightly against the edge of the table before she rolled over to face the cabin wall, pulling her bare feet back to rest on the edge of the cushion as she drifted back to sleep.
The flying boat continued forward.
At some point, a rift suddenly tore through the clouds, revealing the deep blue sea below and a sliver of brightening gold along the horizon.
Another flying boat emerged from the clouds ahead and to the side. Its hull was narrower and longer than that of the Xuantian Sect, and its bow curved into a sharp, blade-like arc, as if it had been cleaved by a giant sword.
Embroidered on its banner was an inverted sword—the emblem of the Northern Underworld Sword Sect, gleaming dully in the sunlight.
A lone figure stood at the bow.
Clad in black.
A sword on his back.
His posture was ramrod straight, like a sword that had yet to be unsheathed.
Standing at the bow, across a distance of several hundred feet, he gazed at the Xuantian Sect's flying boat. More precisely, his eyes were fixed on the very porthole where Bai Qingxue stood.
Bai Qingxue looked back at him through the window.
Their gazes locked across hundreds of feet over the sea of clouds.
And Bai Qingxue did not look away.
Holding her half-cooled cup of tea, she met his gaze. She did not avoid it, nor did she challenge it; she simply watched.
After three breaths, Zhao Yue turned and walked back into the cabin.
His black robes vanished into the shadows of the cabin door, leaving the bow empty save for the sword-patterned banner fluttering in the sea wind.
Bai Qingxue lowered her head and took a sip of tea.
“Who was that?” Lu Xueqing asked.
Lu Xueqing watched the receding flying boat of the Northern Underworld Sword Sect, her gaze shifting from the bow to the banner, and then back to the side of Bai Qingxue's face.
“Zhao Yue of the Northern Underworld Sword Sect,” Bai Qingxue said.
She did not turn to look at Lu Xueqing as she spoke, her eyes remaining on the shrinking silhouette of the vessel outside the porthole.
The clouds outside were closing back up, swallowing the narrow flying boat once more into a sea of white.
The flying boat continued onward.
Eventually, the clouds parted completely, revealing an unobstructed view of the vast sea below.
The deep blue surface of the ocean merged with the pale blue sky at the horizon, blurring the line between water and air.
The outline of a massive island rose from the sea level, starting as a thin, grayish-green line before gradually widening to reveal a rugged coastline and layers of shimmering lights.
Several tall towers soared from the center of the island, their peaks hung with mysterious, glowing spiritual items.
Standing beside Bai Qingxue, Lu Xueqing gazed at the approaching island.
Spiritual lights flickered to life one by one in the gathering dusk, spreading from the coastline toward the center of the island.
“We have arrived, Junior Sister Bai,” Lu Xueqing said softly.
Bai Qingxue picked up the cold cup of tea from the tray and drained the last sip.
The tea tasted astringent as it entered her mouth, its chill sliding down her throat like a small draft of the evening sea breeze.
She set the empty cup back onto the tray. The soft clink of the porcelain base was exceptionally clear in the quiet cabin.
She then stood up straight, her hand falling naturally to her side, her fingertips lightly brushing against the Frost Moon Chant at her waist.
“Let us go.”
The flying boat began to descend.
The outline of Canglan Island grew clearer by the second. Silhouettes of people could already be seen moving amidst the lights on the docks. Several tall stone pillars stood on either side of the berths, their surfaces carved with the insignia of the three major sects.
Looking at the stone pillars and the approaching docks, Bai Qingxue ran through the names in the jade slip in her mind.
Lu Xueqing followed half a step behind her.
Meanwhile, Ning Qinghan pushed herself up from the cushion and stood up barefoot. She patted away the nonexistent dust on her Daoist robe and trailed at the very back, her eyes fixed on Lu Xueqing's back ahead of her.
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