Storm Brewing Over the Mountains, Part 2

Chen Jianxue had a dream.
She knew it was a dream, yet she couldn’t wake from it.

In the dream, she stood atop a towering city wall, surrounded by a tide of voices—or perhaps the sea—surging below. Everything was blurred, veiled in thick gauze, even the distant sunlight hazy.
Until a moment when dark clouds engulfed the sky, the world dimmed, and deafening thunder roared from within, like the heavens’ wrath.
The tide below the wall grew chaotic—panicked human voices.

Strangely, Chen Jianxue’s heart remained calm, as if she had waited for this moment for years.

A golden spark bloomed on the horizon.
It grew larger, closer, carrying terrifying spiritual energy, tearing through wind and space, revealing dark, eerie cracks. Something monstrous roared within.
Boom—
It pierced her chest with unstoppable force.

Agonizing pain consumed her consciousness, leaving only blinding golden light capable of obliterating the heavens.

In that light, Chen Jianxue glimpsed a figure.
Someone whispered in her ear.

But the searing pain tearing through her chest overwhelmed everything. She couldn’t hear the words before plummeting backward.

As if falling from the towering wall, she sank into an endless abyss of darkness.

“—!!”

Chen Jianxue jolted awake, survival instinct driving her to gasp for air.
“Cough, cough, cough…”
The piercing pain in her chest lingered, each breath tearing at her lungs.

“Senior Sister? What’s wrong?”
“Is Senior Sister Jianxue’s heart condition acting up again?”
“What do we do? The bridal sedan is almost at Fengtian Peak!”
“Oh no, her makeup’s smudged…”

Anxious voices crowded around her.

Chen Jianxue, catching her breath, clutched her aching chest and propped herself up, surveying the room.
It was adorned with festive lanterns and red decorations.
Right.
Today was her dao companion ceremony. Why had she dreamt such a terrifying nightmare?

“…I’m fine.”

Suppressing her coughs, she forced a pale smile into the mirror. “Just a nap and a bad dream. I got startled. Continue.”

“Are you sure, Senior Sister? You don’t look well.”
“It’s fine. Don’t miss the auspicious hour.”
“…”

One of the junior sisters ran to inform the Sect Leader. Soon, as Chen Jianxue finished touching up her makeup, Chen Qingmu stepped into the courtyard.

“Sect Leader.”
“Martial Uncle Sect Leader!”

Voices echoed from the courtyard. Sitting before the mirror, slightly dazed, Chen Jianxue looked up, catching her father’s reflection as he entered.

“…Father?” She was surprised. “Why are you here?”

“I heard your heart condition flared up. How are you now? Still in pain? Should we delay the bridal sedan?” Chen Qingmu fired off questions.

“I’m much better. Don’t worry,” Chen Jianxue half-joked. “After all these years, I’m used to it. It won’t delay anything.”

Chen Qingmu sighed bitterly. “After the ceremony, once sect matters settle, have Wuhuan take you to Jiushi Valley. The Medical Saint should return soon.”

“The Medical Saint said it’s a congenital spiritual defect, a flaw of heaven, beyond human remedy.”
Her voice, weakened after a heart episode, sounded like a child’s pout.

Chen Qingmu’s heart ached. “It’s my fault. I was too consumed by your mother’s death to care for you properly. If I’d noticed earlier…”

“A congenital flaw can’t be fixed even if caught early.” Chen Jianxue paused, recalling the strange dream.
She instinctively touched the spot where, in the dream, her heart was pierced—exactly where her congenital defect lay.

“What’s wrong? Feeling unwell again?” Chen Qingmu’s face changed, seeing her clutch her chest.

“Huh?” Chen Jianxue snapped back, chuckling. “I’m fine, Father. Go back to the main hall. The ceremony needs you. You can’t just leave.”

“You’re sure you’re alright?”
“Really!”

After her repeated assurances, Chen Qingmu reluctantly left, glancing back every few steps.

Half an hour remained before the bridal sedan arrived.
Chen Jianxue disliked heavy makeup, even for her dao companion ceremony. Beyond ornate robes and accessories, her makeup was minimal, leaving extra time. She’d meant to nap, but the nightmare left her dazed, her heart uneasy.

Her junior sisters bustled about, occasionally checking the sedan’s progress, more anxious than she was.

“I’ll rest in the inner room,” Chen Jianxue said, rising from the mirror. “Call me when the sedan reaches the courtyard.”

“Alright, Senior Sister.”

“…”

In the inner room, she activated a soundproof barrier, silencing the noise.
Finally in quiet, she leaned wearily against the door, closing her eyes.

“Who’s this radiant bride, so breathtaking?”

A voice broke the silence.

“!”
Chen Jianxue spun around, nearly summoning her spiritual sword before recognizing the voice.

“Li Wuhuan,” the bride-clad woman turned away, cheeks flushed with either anger or embarrassment. “We’re not supposed to meet before the ceremony. Who let you sneak in?”

“I’m not Li Wuhuan.”
His voice carried a teasing lilt.

“Hm…?” Chen Jianxue turned back.

Her gaze took in the room. The pavilion, built against the mountain, had a rear window overlooking a cliff veiled in mist and trees. Li Wuhuan leaned casually against the window frame, one leg dangling outside, the other propped on the sill.
One misstep, and he could tumble into the endless misty abyss below. Without a timely flying sword, he’d shatter to pieces.

Chen Jianxue’s face changed. She stepped forward.

But Li Wuhuan leapt down from the window, landing inside. In a flash, he was before her, pressing her waist forward.
She stumbled into his arms.

He leaned down, chuckling softly in her ear. “I’m clearly here to steal the bride. How could I be Li Wuhuan?”

“…Li Wuhuan,” Chen Jianxue sighed. “You’re so frivolous.”

He paused, then leaned on her shoulder, laughing. “Really? I thought you only liked me this way.”

“…”
Chen Jianxue, thin-skinned, avoided such banter, knowing she couldn’t outtalk him.
She changed the subject. “Why aren’t you with the bridal party? And why this green robe? Where’d you sneak off to?”

“Oh, wandering the mountains, pulling a few nails, and…”

“Nails?”
Chen Jianxue looked up, puzzled, about to press further.

Li Wuhuan revealed his other hand, holding a vibrant bouquet of multicolored flowers.

Chen Jianxue froze.
She recognized them: silver-blue star-like blooms, Frostfall, from Qianmen’s southernmost ravine; butterfly-shaped yellow flowers, Suifei Grass, hidden in northern dense forests; single-petaled orchids from Qianmen’s far north, Dengyun Peak…

“You ran across Qianmen’s thousand peaks this morning?”

“Not just this morning,” Li Wuhuan laughed, holding her. “Since last night. How else could I find them all?”

“…”

Moved yet helpless, her eyes misted. She took the bouquet, inhaling the faint and rich fragrances.
Lowering her gaze, she asked absently, “Didn’t you say you pulled nails? What nails?”

“…Nothing.”
Li Wuhuan smiled, hugging her from behind. “You’ll know.”

“Hm?”

“Enough. It’s our wedding day. No boring questions,” he said, gripping her hand. “The auspicious hour hasn’t come. How about I take you to see Qianmen’s peaks? I found beautiful sights last night and today, and I want to share them with you.”

“What? But the bridal sedan…” Chen Jianxue hesitated, glancing at the door.

“Just tedious formalities. We’ll be back before the heaven-offering ceremony.”
Li Wuhuan summoned his flying sword, hovering amid the misty clouds outside.
“Today, before the ceremony, you’re not Chen Jianxue, and I’m not Li Wuhuan. We’re just ourselves.”

He pulled her toward the window, leaping into the mist.

Chen Jianxue, startled, closed her eyes.
She didn’t summon her own sword.

Thud.

They landed lightly on his sword.

Her racing heart calmed. She raised a hand to swat him. “Trying to scare me to death?”

“Scared?” Li Wuhuan caught her wrist, pulling her close, laughing. “You jumped so boldly, I thought you were ready to die with me.”

“…Hmph.”

The sword carried them through the clouds, soaring toward Qianmen’s breathtaking peaks.
The parted clouds slowly closed, sunlight dazzling, like a fleeting dream.

Past noon on the auspicious day, the “missing” dao companions finally appeared together at Fengtian Peak’s heaven-offering plaza.

Chen Qingmu sat at the head, face dark. The elders looked resigned.
Given it was their ceremony, no elder scolded their recklessness.

Chen Jianxue, sheepish, apologized to her father before being whisked away by frantic junior sisters to fix her makeup.

Tang Yin transmitted to Chen Qingmu, displeased. “Sect Leader, I feel Jianxue’s changed since being with Wuhuan. She used to follow Lord Hanyuan, so proper and rule-abiding.”

“No helping it,” Chen Qingmu sighed. “Daughters grow beyond their fathers.”

“…”

A cultivator’s dao companion ceremony resembled mortal weddings, with similar rituals except for an added heaven-offering ceremony. Instead of bowing to parents, they honored sect elders.

After three bows and offering tea to Chen Qingmu, both Sect Leader and father, the final ritual remained: the heaven-offering ceremony.

Only the couple could ascend the altar, bowing, offering, and lighting incense before the bronze cauldron.

Chen Jianxue followed the steps with Li Wuhuan.

As they lit two incense sticks together, she moved to place them in the cauldron, but his hand suddenly gripped her wrist.
She paused, looking up. “Wuhuan?”

Li Wuhuan said nothing, eyes lowered, as if waiting.

An inexplicable, unstoppable panic flooded Chen Jianxue’s heart.
The void of her congenital heart defect felt filled yet emptier, throbbing painfully.
Her breathing quickened. “Wuhuan, is there something you want to say? Let’s finish the ceremony. It’s just one step—”

“Do you know why I’m named Wuhuan?” he asked abruptly.

“What…?” Chen Jianxue faltered. “Wuhuan?”

He looked up, his familiar carefree smile now cold and sharp, devoid of its usual warmth.

“Because I need you to remind me, every moment, that I’m unworthy of joy in this life.”

“—”

His gaze was a bladeless dagger, piercing her with icy, bloodshot intensity.
Chen Jianxue instinctively broke free, stepping back. “Li Wuhuan, what’s wrong with you…”

Boom!

A thunderous explosion shook the mountain gate, drowning the murmurs over their standoff. Qianmen’s elders and disciples looked around, startled or uneasy.

A moment later, a disciple’s hoarse cry came from the gate—

“Sect Leader, Fuyu Palace cultivators are attacking!!”

“…”

The heavens erupted in chaos.

At the elders’ head, Chen Qingmu’s face darkened, slamming the table. “Activate the mountain protection array!”

“Yes, Sect Leader!”

Eight array elders moved, each wielding their array compasses, channeling spiritual energy.
But moments later, their faces paled, sweat beading.

An indescribable dread gripped Chen Qingmu. “What’s wrong? Why isn’t the array active?!”

“Sect Leader… my array node seems… unresponsive…”
“Mine too!”
“Why are the compasses failing?”
“…”

Chen Qingmu’s face turned ashen. “Send disciples to check the array nodes! Elder Council, gather all peak disciples and follow me to meet the enemy!!”

On the altar, whispers carried on the wind.

Chen Jianxue snapped out of her fear, the words “mountain protection array” and “node failure” sinking in, her face draining of color.

Her trembling hand dropped the burning incense, letting it fall. She frantically searched her storage artifact—

Before noon, Li Wuhuan’s bouquet reappeared in her palm.

Silver-blue Frostfall from Qianmen’s southern ravine;
Butterfly-shaped Suifei Grass from the northern cold spring forest;
Single-petaled orchids from Dengyun Peak in the far north…

Every flower in the bouquet, rare and hard to find, grew at the eight nodes of Qianmen’s protection array.

Boom—!!

The mountain gate collapsed, a thunderous roar tearing the sky.
Clouds fell, darkness engulfed the heavens.

Chen Jianxue lifted her gaze from the wilting petals, eyes bloodshot with rage—

“Li! Wu! Huan!”
“Did you destroy the protection array?!”

“So what if I did?” Li Wuhuan laughed, releasing the incense to shatter in the dust below the altar.
He tilted his head, smiling at her, then closed the distance, pulling her into his arms, whispering hoarsely, “Guess—did I just ruin the array, or am I responsible for seven or eight parts of Qianmen’s fall today?”

“—!”

Bloodshot eyes trembling, Chen Jianxue couldn’t believe her ears or the man she’d entrusted her life to.
Her heart tore with pain, words of accusation stifled as agony bent her double.
Clinging to his sleeve, she sank to her knees before him.
“Why…”

Li Wuhuan didn’t move, not even lifting a hand. He looked down at the woman writhing in pain, his expression cold as stone.

“Does it hurt? Not enough, I think.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t let you die yet. You’ll watch your father, your senior brother, your junior siblings die before you. Their blood will flood these peaks, their bones piling into mountains, eroded by wind and rain until no one remembers their names.”
“I told you—”
“I told you! You’ll taste every agony I’ve endured! I’ll find you, and even in death, you won’t escape!!”

Li Wuhuan erupted, gripping her bridal collar, dragging her to the altar’s edge.

He pointed to the bloodshed at Qianmen’s gate—

“This is what you owe me.”

In her tear-filled, bloodshot eyes, he leaned close, as if to kiss her cracked lips, but stopped.
Showing her the deepest loathing and hatred in his eyes, he whispered by her ear.

His voice was soft, like lovers’ whispers, calling her name deliberately—

“Princess Changyong.”