The Whimsical Pavilion Master and a Love Etched in Stone

The Pavilion Master was unhappy.

Once they realized this,

The three shadow-like guards’

hearts began to pound.

They racked their brains, desperate to find a way to appease their master.

The blizzard still raged.

A blinding expanse of white stretched before their eyes, making them ache.

A hunched old woman tremblingly dragged her body forward.

Her steps were uneven, sinking deep into the accumulated snow.

Reaching Mister Xiao’s side, she paused to catch her breath before speaking.

“Mister Xiao, close your eyes and rest for a moment. Give this old one your hand, and I will lead you to them.”

Ever since they had emerged from the inn,

Mister Xiao had remained silent.

Nevertheless, she obediently took the offered hand, murmuring softly.

“Elder Liu, the calluses on your index finger have grown thicker again.”

The old woman, addressed as “Elder Liu,” was visibly taken aback.

Her body trembled, and her aged voice became hoarse.

“It is kind of Mister Xiao to be concerned. This old one is merely slow-witted and has yet to fully grasp the mysteries of the ‘Cloud-Soaring Finger’.”

Mister Xiao remarked.

“Yet, Elder Liu’s pulse is not as strong as it once was.”

The old woman gasped in surprise.

Unbeknownst to her,

that delicate, boneless hand had already reached her wrist.

Three slender, jade-like fingers rested upon it.

They were quietly discerning the faint, somewhat erratic beats.

Elder Liu grew flustered.

“Mister Xiao…”

Mister Xiao shook her head, gesturing for her to remain silent.

After furrowing her brows in thought for a moment, she let out a soft sigh.

She then withdrew her fingers and spoke.

“Once this matter is settled, when we reach a large town, I will prescribe you a remedy. You must follow it and take the medicine.”

Elder Liu began.

“How could I dare trouble—”

Mister Xiao unceremoniously cut her off.

“Elder Liu, you are a senior in the Pavilion, and for that, I show you some respect. But do not forget, I am the Zhaixing Pavilion Master.”

This unquestionable tone

eventually made the old woman nod silently.

A few tears welled in the corners of her eyes.

“Then, thank you, Mister Xiao…”

Just as she was overcome with emotion,

Mister Xiao suddenly gazed into the distance, her expression devoid of emotion.

“Elder Liu, in truth, only one truly knows their own body best. Forgive my bluntness, but you may not have many years left. The prescription I write will, at most, only serve to replenish your qi and blood.”

The old woman’s knees immediately buckled, and she began to collapse before Mister Xiao.

She swiftly caught her.

Mister Xiao’s somewhat stern eyes fixed upon her.

“Is this ‘Cloud-Soaring Finger’ truly a divine art that must be mastered, even at the cost of one’s life?”

The old woman’s supported body felt limp, almost withered like a dry leaf.

“Mister Xiao, if this old one does not master the ‘Cloud-Soaring Finger,’ how can I protect you, how, how can I help you eliminate those heretics within the Pavilion…”

Mister Xiao retrieved a small box of medicinal pills from her robes.

She took out a few and brought them to the old woman’s lips.

After she consumed them, her complexion improved slightly.

Only then did Mister Xiao slowly release her, allowing her to stand steadily on her own.

She sneered.

“Elder Liu, you’ve cultivated to the point where a mere young girl like me has to support you. How, then, can you speak of protecting me?”

The old woman was left speechless by the rebuke.

The two younger, robust men nearby could only swallow nervously, watching from a distance.

They knew that if they dared to step forward and defend the old woman,

the eccentric and tyrannical Demon Lord, Pavilion Master Xiao,

the next moment, the spearhead would be aimed directly at them.

Mister Xiao glanced at them lightly, then said.

“You all are quite sensible, knowing not to interrupt when I’m lecturing someone.”

Hearing these sarcastic words,

both men shivered, almost collapsing to their knees as well.

Mister Xiao waved a hand and said.

“I don’t appreciate this behavior. You’d all best go cultivate, practice with utter disregard for your lives, until you all go mad from it, and if you die, even better. Then I’ll be all alone in the martial world, free to roam wherever the vast heavens and earth take me.”

The three guards immediately fell silent, rigid with fear.

They were unsure whether to kneel or stand.

With knees half-bent and backs hunched, they resembled boiled shrimp.

Suddenly, Mister Xiao’s tone brightened.

“Oh, right. When I scold you like this, how should you respond?”

The three men trembled.

They bowed their bodies, exchanging cautious glances.

Only then did one of the younger, robust men timidly reply.

“Mister Xiao’s words naturally carry profound meaning. If we can discern it, we share your burdens; if we cannot, then it is merely because the Pavilion Master possesses a brilliant mind and we are too foolish to comprehend.”

“Wrong.”

Mister Xiao’s delicate brows arched, and her tone instantly turned frigid again.

“You should say, ‘Xiao, your entire body is soft, but your mouth is the hardest!'”

Everyone immediately blanched with shock, no longer able to maintain their composure.

They all fell to their knees with a ‘thud,’ burying their heads in the knee-deep snow.

“Mister Xiao, you humble this old servant!”

Mister Xiao said with a beaming smile.

“Ah, I knew you wouldn’t be able to answer. Let me test you with another question. Later, when it’s time for bed, if I say ‘Good night’ to you, how should you respond?”

This question

naturally fell to Elder Liu, who typically attended to Mister Xiao’s daily needs, to answer.

She gathered her courage and replied in a hoarse voice.

“Naturally, I would extinguish the lamps, close the windows, and no longer disturb the Pavilion Master’s peaceful slumber. If it were a summer night with many mosquitoes, I would light a calming incense coil inside…”

“Still wrong.”

Mister Xiao shook her head repeatedly, dismissing it with disdain.

“Those are things servants do. It should be, ‘Just because I said good night, does that mean it’s good night? Do you not want to chat with me anymore? Or are you just trying to hurry me to bed so you can flirt with other girls?'”

Such an explosive declaration

completely bewildered the other three.

Observing their three uniformly agape mouths,

Mister Xiao smiled brightly.

“Indeed, I knew you wouldn’t think along those lines.”

She suddenly lowered her gaze, her expression overflowing with tenderness.

‘If only I could flirt with him like this, then even dying immediately would be worth it…’

Yet she knew this was forever impossible.

For the protagonists of that dialogue

belonged to Brother Ye and Huang’er from a century ago.

Mister Xiao tilted her head back, gently closing her eyes, allowing the sunlight from the snow-covered ground to caress her incomparably beautiful face.

Memories surged into her mind, making her heart pound.

Her encounter with him had taken place in Luoyang.

Within the underground detached palace where he had once been imprisoned,

she had accidentally stumbled inside, curiously wandering and looking around.

Eventually, she realized she was lost.

The eight-year-old girl was trapped in the vast, pitch-black underground palace.

She was adorable, possessing an extraordinary vivacity that easily sparked a desire to protect her.

However, she was also the next Zhaixing Pavilion Master.

Thus, if she forbade others from following, no one could follow.

She was lost and alone, and for the moment, no one would know.

Yet she was not like other young girls.

Fear of darkness, being lost, or the cold—

None of these could shake her youthful resolve.

She found a spot and quietly sat down.

It was the very same place he had sat a century ago.

Illuminated by a faint lamplight,

the walls, where he had carved words with pebbles out of sheer boredom during his imprisonment,

were now glimmering.

Her eyes, reflecting the lamplight,

quietly read his past, read his present, and read his future.

Sometimes, as she read, she would involuntarily straighten her back, like a resilient, ancient pine, for she was reading of his unwavering spirit: ‘Though a myriad stand against me, I shall still advance.’

At other times, she would lower her eyelashes, her delicate lips slightly parted, softly humming the tune he had composed—a tune clearly not written for her, titled ‘Phoenix Perching on the Parasol Tree.’

And sometimes, her gaze would ripple like water, her cheeks faintly flushed, a mixture of joy and petulance. She was utterly lost in his romantic verses.

At the end of the writings,

he had written.

“What a worthless Zhaixing Pavilion. I can deduce the structure of this detached palace just by listening to the sound of the water. Their Qimen Dunjia techniques aren’t fit to even polish Mo Shu Pavilion’s shoes. Although I, Ye, will likely die here, at least I’ll draw out the structure and leave a few mocking words to infuriate them.”

Thus, after reading this passage,

she easily followed the structural diagram

and walked out of the dark, profound underground palace.

The moment she saw daylight again, the gentle sunlight began to melt the frost in her eyes.

A child who would not cry from the cold, darkness, or being lost

suddenly shed tears she could not stop.

She knew she had fallen in love at first sight with someone who would never appear in her life.

For the Luoyang she was in was not the Luoyang of a century ago.