Compass

They had barely set foot in the plaza before the main pavilion when an old man, clad in a black and white Eight Trigrams robe, his white hair bound high into an upward-pointing topknot with a sash, and as thin as a crane, rushed out from within, trailed by two young Daoist disciples.

“To what distinguished member of the Lu family do we owe this visit!”

“Forgive our tardiness in greeting you—we beg your indulgence!”

Wen Chaoxuan calmly observed their hurried approach, but Lin Langyao found himself clicking his tongue in surprise. He had never imagined that a mere entry token from the Lu family estate could prompt such an elaborate and hurried reception from a sect master. The Lu family, entrenched in Jiuyuan for many years, truly wielded a formidable influence that could not be underestimated.

Upon reaching them, the Heavenly Craft Pavilion’s sect master first glanced at Wen Chaoxuan, then at Lin Langyao. After a brief pause, his gaze settled back on Wen Chaoxuan, whose aura was clearly more commanding. With utmost deference, he inquired, “May I inquire about the purpose of your esteemed visit? Has… the Lu family head issued an instruction?”

Wen Chaoxuan offered neither affirmation nor denial. Hearing the old man’s question, he smoothly produced a small, rhombus-shaped bronze mirror, no larger than a coin, from his sleeve. “We have come today,” he stated calmly, “to request the Pavilion Master’s assistance in repairing this mirror.”

The old man nodded, muttering, “Of course, of course,” as he took the mirror. The moment it flipped over, its true appearance revealed under the sunlight, the Heavenly Craft Pavilion’s sect master shuddered, nearly dropping the mirror as if it were a burning hot potato.

Wen Chaoxuan saw his face abruptly change and immediately sensed trouble. As expected, the old man looked up at them, his voice sharp with accusation. “Who exactly are you people?!” he demanded.

“You recognize this mirror?” Lin Langyao scoffed. “Then do you recognize me?”

Lin Langyao had once caused a great commotion at the Heavenly Craft Pavilion’s mountain gate over a matter concerning his artifact-crafting friend. The old man had already found him somewhat familiar, and hearing Lin Langyao’s words, he couldn’t help but scrutinize his face more closely. What he saw was truly alarming. The old man, clutching the mirror, instantly transformed into a celestial crane, soaring straight up into the sky and vanishing into the mist-shrouded back mountains.

Both master and disciple were stunned for a moment. Wen Chaoxuan quickly recovered, his voice sharp with command. “Pursue!”

But pursuing him was not so simple. Wen Chaoxuan grabbed Lin Langyao and soared towards the back mountains as well, yet upon nearing the misty expanse, they found themselves unable to break free. He had no choice but to descend to the ground again. Only then did he discover that the ground beneath was a bewildering Nine Palaces and Eight Trigrams illusion array, formed from jagged, strange-looking rocks.

Many sects would lay out arrays within their strongholds to prevent outsiders from intruding.

“Master, you can break this array, right?” Lin Langyao asked, unfazed. He knew that his Master not only reigned supreme with his sword but also had significant accomplishments in divination and deduction. He mumbled, “That old man ran so fast; he clearly has a guilty conscience. Neither the Lu family nor this Heavenly Craft Pavilion are any good.”

Wen Chaoxuan, however, merely glanced at Lin Langyao and countered, “Can you not discern the solution to this array?”

That unfathomably profound tone made Lin Langyao freeze, his hairs immediately standing on end as if his homework was being randomly inspected. Besides teaching him sword cultivation, Wen Chaoxuan had dabbled a little in various other subjects—divination, array formations, archery, music, literature, and mathematics. Yet, Lin Langyao disliked learning those; he only loved practicing his sword. The smattering he had grudgingly learned was merely to pass Wen Chaoxuan’s inspections, and over the years, he had long forgotten it all completely. Who could have imagined such a situation would arise?

Wen Chaoxuan, his white robes fluttering gracefully, strode purposefully into the array. “It’s alright if you’ve forgotten,” he said. “Just copy the array diagrams a few more times when we return, and you’ll remember.”

Lin Langyao stood rooted to the spot for a few seconds, wishing he could slap himself. ‘Why did his mouth have to be so good at finding trouble for him!’ he lamented inwardly.

Lin Langyao, with downcast brows and eyes, followed behind Wen Chaoxuan as they navigated the array. Wen Chaoxuan initially moved swiftly, as if navigating his own garden with effortless familiarity, but the deeper they went, the slower he became. Finally, in the depths shrouded by green mist, he stopped, drew out a compass, and began to inquire about the directions of heaven and earth.

What was strange, however, was that from the moment Wen Chaoxuan took out his compass, Lin Langyao noticed he had frozen in place.

“What’s wrong?” Lin Langyao asked, perplexed. He leaned closer to look, finding the trigrams on the compass incredibly familiar—they were precisely the Four Directions Tracing Hexagram that Wen Chaoxuan typically used for divination. The compass’s needle pointed directly into the depths of the thick mist.

Almost instantly, Lin Langyao also realized what this meant—the person Wen Chaoxuan had been searching for to resolve his tribulation was right here, on the Heavenly Craft Pavilion’s mountain!

Wen Chaoxuan clearly understood this matter even better than Lin Langyao did. Yet, he took a deep breath and swiftly wiped away the trigrams on the compass, changing it to calculate the array’s breaking point. He then stated with remarkable composure, “We don’t know what the Heavenly Craft Pavilion’s sect master will do with that mirror. Let’s catch up to him first.”

Emerging from the illusion array, the two followed the mountain path, tracing the Heavenly Craft Pavilion’s sect master. Wen Chaoxuan, compass in hand, flew swiftly ahead. Although he appeared calm, his internal anxiety was evident from the speed at which he moved, almost wishing to vanish into a fleeting shadow.

After all, this was a search that had spanned centuries and two reincarnations, so his urgency was understandable. However, was the timing and location of this discovery perhaps too coincidental?

Lin Langyao did not want to hold Wen Chaoxuan back, so he exerted himself, sprinting to keep up behind him. Yet, in the mere span of lowering and raising his head, he still lost sight of Wen Chaoxuan.

“Master?”

“Master—”

Lin Langyao called out twice, then scratched his head. He drew his sword and cut through a patch of low bushes. He still remembered the last direction he had seen Wen Chaoxuan in; in the distance, where tree crowns overlapped, a hint of a pavilion’s vermilion tiles faintly appeared. Without further thought, Lin Langyao headed in that direction.

As he emerged from the woods, he realized he must have reached the Heavenly Craft Pavilion’s true inner sect stronghold. The soaring pavilions and crimson eaves visible to his eye were far more meticulously crafted than any structures he had seen before. Beneath the eaves and at the hall entrances, numerous majestic, silent mechanical beasts stood guard, their eyes closed. He surmised that the outer mountain was for receiving guests and the daily lives of disciples, while the inner mountain was where the elders and sect master resided.

Before him stood a grand hall. In front of it, a spacious open area was dotted with numerous swords stuck into the ground. A jade-faced young man, clad in red and gold, moved among them, gazing at the swords with an impatient expression. Several young disciples, dressed in Heavenly Craft Pavilion attire, followed closely behind him, fawning and saying, “Young Master Qi, none of these swords seem to catch your esteemed eye?…”

The young man, addressed as Young Master Qi, was suppressing his temper and about to speak when his gaze suddenly fixed on Lin Langyao, who was emerging from the woods not far away. He let out a soft “Eh?” and, pointing at Lin Langyao from a distance, commanded, “You, come here.”

The Heavenly Craft Pavilion disciples looked in the direction he pointed, and instantly, all eyes fell upon Lin Langyao.

Lin Langyao was currently unsure where to search for Wen Chaoxuan. Seeing figures outside the grand hall, he instinctively gravitated towards them, though he hadn’t expected to be spotted just as he approached. Hearing the young man call out to him, he considered it for a moment, decided there shouldn’t be any issue, and walked over.

The young man scrutinized him, and he, in turn, scrutinized the young man. Upon closer inspection, their apparent ages did not differ significantly. However, because Lin Langyao had long since made a name for himself across the land, he adopted the mindset of an elder, regarding the young man as merely a child.

The young man had been pampered since childhood, adored by his elders and feared by his peers. Never before had a young person who appeared to be of similar age faced him with such calm and composure. Young Master Qi remained silent for a moment. He then lifted his head and let out an arrogant “Hmph,” saying, as if bestowing a great favor, “Your sword isn’t bad. Let me see it.”

Lin Langyao thought he had misheard. “What?” he asked.

The young man repeated, “I said, give me your sword.”

Lin Langyao’s Azure Cloud Sword was currently in his hand, and Young Master Qi showed considerable interest in it. The Heavenly Craft Pavilion, a renowned artifact-forging sect in the cultivation world, had presented him with countless forged swords, yet he had dismissed them all. It was Lin Langyao’s sword, however, that had caught his eye at first glance.

The Heavenly Craft Pavilion disciples standing beside the young man didn’t know Lin Langyao’s background, but they knew they absolutely could not offend Young Master Qi. So they quickly urged Lin Langyao, “Just let him see it. This is Young Master Qi Zifeng of the Wuling Sword Sect, the youngest and most talented sword cultivator of this era. Your sword would not be disgraced in his hands.”

Lin Langyao: “…”

Lin Langyao fell silent.

For a moment, Lin Langyao found himself at a loss for words.

He desperately wanted to control his expression and not burst into laughter, for all of this was simply too bizarre. So much so that even someone as arrogant as him couldn’t muster any anger; he only felt profound absurdity.

Someone actually telling a sword cultivator, “Give me your sword.”

The Wuling Sword Sect was considered an exceptionally powerful sword cultivation sect in the cultivation world, ranking among the Five Great Sects. Noticing that Lin Langyao possessed no cultivation, they believed he would be intimidated by the Wuling Sword Sect’s reputation and obediently hand over his sword. However, Lin Langyao merely moved his lips, uttered a single word—“Scram”—and turned to leave in front of them.

That single “Scram” was uttered with such fluid ease that Young Master Qi was left stunned. It wasn’t until he saw the terrified expressions on the faces of the surrounding Heavenly Craft Pavilion disciples that a belated surge of fury coursed through him. When had Qi Zifeng ever been so humiliated by an unknown person? Gritting his teeth, he instantly flew forward and seized Lin Langyao’s shoulder. “You stop right there—”

Lin Langyao had already prepared the moment Qi Zifeng’s hand touched his clothes. With a flash of sword light, Lin Langyao, holding his sword with one hand, spun back around. Qi Zifeng’s hand rested on his shoulder, while Lin Langyao’s blade was pressed against the young man’s neck.

“I’m busy looking for someone. Don’t bother me,” Lin Langyao said earnestly. “With so many swords, can’t you just pick one? If not, go forge one yourself. If you can’t even forge a sword, what are you learning sword cultivation for? You’re trash, and you’re still whining about the sword not being good enough.”

Young Master Qi’s face immediately turned green then white, his expression exceedingly ugly.

Lin Langyao’s words were truly heartfelt. His own sword was self-forged, as was Wen Chaoxuan’s, and in his understanding, it was only natural for a sword cultivator to forge their own sword. It was, after all, their vital magic weapon; what kind of sense did it make to casually buy one as if it were groceries? At the same time, a hint of disdain arose within him. No wonder so few people in the cultivation world could fight properly. He had once beaten up a sword cultivation sect, and now he remembered, it must have been the Wuling Sword Sect, where this young master hailed from. If everyone in this sect bought their swords like him, then it was no wonder their sword cultivators couldn’t catch up to Lin Langyao’s former cultivation realm even in a hundred years.

He felt he was offering sincere advice, but Young Master Qi’s eyes, fixed on him, grew increasingly red, which made Lin Langyao slightly startled. ‘No way,’ he thought, ‘did I just make this kid cry?’

“Sword, come!” Qi Zifeng suddenly roared.

A sword flew out from the cluster of swords in front of the hall. Lin Langyao immediately sensed trouble, shrugged his shoulder, breaking free from Qi Zifeng’s grasp, and instantly retreated.