Watching the Mountain

"Senior Sister—oh no, Junior Sister Qingxue," he said. "You just wait."

With that, he turned, leaped lightly down the steps, and his figure quickly vanished into the deepening twilight.

Ye Qingxue sat alone on the green stone, watching the direction he had disappeared. After a long while, she gently shook her head.

’He’s all talk again.’

But she never expected that this time, Ye Shan wasn’t all talk.

The next day, the entire Profound Pure Sect was in an uproar.

Ye Shan, who had just turned twenty and only broken through to Foundation Establishment the day before, had been challenging his way up since dawn, armed with nothing but an ordinary Iron Sword.

His opponents were all fellow disciples who, despite being lower-ranked among the True Disciples, still possessed the Cultivation of the Purple Mansion Stage.

First match: against Senior Brother Wang of the Purple Mansion Early Stage.

In thirty moves, Senior Brother Wang’s sword broke, and he conceded defeat.

Second match: against Senior Sister Li of the Purple Mansion Early Stage.

Senior Sister Li was skilled in Arrays and laid out a Triple Trapping Array.

Ye Shan broke the Array in just ten breaths, the tip of his sword stopping an inch from her brow.

The third match, the fourth match...

He didn’t rest, fighting one match after another.

He used the most basic Sword Forms in every match, and every victory was clean and decisive.

By afternoon, he had already won seven matches in a row.

The news spread like wildfire through the various peaks.

More and more disciples flocked to the Martial Arts Arena, and even many of the Elders were drawn out by the commotion.

Ye Qingxue stood at the edge of the crowd, watching the green-robed young man on the stage.

His robes had been slashed in several places by Sword Qi, and his sweat-soaked bangs clung to his temples.

But the hand holding his sword was still steady, and his eyes were still as bright as burning stars.

The eighth match was against Senior Brother Zhao, ranked two-hundredth on the True Inheritance leaderboard and a cultivator at the Purple Mansion Middle Stage.

This match lasted a long time.

Senior Brother Zhao’s Swordsmanship was seasoned and steady, his Spiritual Power profound. Ye Shan was forced to the edge of the stage several times, in one perilous situation after another.

Ye Qingxue clenched her hands inside her sleeves, her palms slick with sweat.

But every time, just at the most dangerous moment, Ye Shan would manage to use an unbelievable move to turn the tables.

His Swordsmanship began to change. It was no longer bound by any set routine but flowed as he willed, swift as wind and lightning.

In the end, he sent Senior Brother Zhao’s longsword flying with a single strike, lightly tapped his opponent’s chest with the tip of his blade, sheathed his sword, and bowed.

The entire arena fell silent, then erupted into thunderous cheers.

The setting sun sank low, dyeing the Martial Arts Arena a shade of crimson-orange.

Ye Shan walked off the stage and through the crowd.

The disciples automatically parted to form a path, their gazes filled with shock, admiration, and a trace of disbelief.

He walked up to Ye Qingxue.

His face was etched with exhaustion, but his eyes were astonishingly bright.

His green robes were torn in several places and stained with dust and sweat, yet his posture as he stood there was as straight and proud as a pine tree.

He grinned, revealing a set of white teeth, his smile holding the unique, unrestrained confidence of youth.

"Junior Sister Qingxue," he said, his voice clear and bright, echoing across the gradually quieting Martial Arts Arena. "Go on, call me Senior Brother."

Ye Qingxue looked at him.

She looked at his eyelashes, dyed gold by the setting sun; at the beads of sweat still glistening on his temples; at the matter-of-fact certainty in his eyes that said, ’I do what I say I’ll do.’

She opened her mouth, wanting to say he was being ridiculous again, wanting to say it didn’t count, wanting to say...

But she couldn’t get a single word out.

The lake in her heart, which had been still for so long, was suddenly stirred into a tempest of colossal waves.

The waves crashed against the shore, creating a deafening roar.

But deep in the center of the lake, something had settled, firm and steady, no longer to be disturbed by any ripple.

She lowered her head and, ever so slightly, curved the corners of her lips into a smile.

Then she raised her head, looked into his eyes, and said softly, in a voice only the two of them could hear:

"Senior Brother."

As the word left her lips, the evening breeze happened to drift by, carrying away the clamor of the day.

The young man stood in the twilight, grinning like a child who had won a fight and gotten his candy.

And the young woman stood opposite him, the faint beauty mark between her brows growing warm in the fading light.

It was as if something had finally broken through the soil and had begun to grow quietly in some unknown corner.

[To be continued]