txolops Chapter 61 Heavenly Thunder Bamboo
Chapter 61 Heavenly Thunder Bamboo
The courtyard is deep and secluded, and the sunlight casts a slanting shadow.
Longkui sat on the bluestone threshold, her white and green silk dress swaying gently in the wind, like a willow in early spring brushing against the water, elegant yet with a touch of coolness.
Now she is thirteen years old, and her height has already reached over 1.6 meters. She has a slender yet long figure, especially her pair of jade-like legs, which are the most eye-catching.
The lecherous old man Han Xiaoliu even specially made her a pair of white lace stockings, adding to her beauty!
Her long legs were encased in a layer of white lace stockings as thin as cicada wings, her skin appearing and disappearing, like snow covering plum branches, or moonlight shrouded in cold mist.
Her jade-like legs shone brightly, and her fair feet were covered in frost. Seeing this scene now, I finally understand what it means to "walk on lotus blossoms, untouched by dust."
Han Xiaoliu once praised: "White stockings paired with a cool and aloof beauty, my sister is killing me!"
However, this youthful and radiant face was now shrouded in sorrow.
Her eyebrows were like distant mountains shrouded in mist, her eyes like autumn waters brimming with tears, and her lips were so pale they almost blended into her complexion.
With her hands supporting her chin, her fingertips unconsciously dug at the edge of the stone steps, her gaze fixed blankly on the center of the lotus pond—there, her spirit pet, the mantis shrimp, was being chased all over the pond by two spirit beasts summoned by Han Xiaoliu, its whiskers trembling wildly, looking utterly disheveled.
But she didn't see the mantis shrimp at all. She only saw the figure of the boy who always smiled and always made her heart ache.
"Sister, the young master isn't here!"
A crisp sound broke the silence.
Six-year-old Lu Xueqi came running from the corridor, her steps light yet steady, unlike that of an ordinary child. Although she was young, there was no naivety in her eyes, but rather a precocious calmness, her eyes clear as a mirror, as if they could see into the depths of people's hearts.
This child was raised by Long Kui; he has no spiritual roots, yet he is exceptionally intelligent.
From a young age, she was obsessed with swordsmanship, wielding a wooden sword with the speed of the wind, which even amazed Han Xiaoliu, who then agreed to name her.
Han Xiaoliu decided to use the name of the anime goddess to improve her luck. When Longkui drew lots, she threw the lot three times in disgust, and finally reluctantly settled on the name "Lu Xueqi".
After all, Naiqi is still pretty good!
"Hmph!" Long Kui abruptly turned her head, her cheeks puffed out, her eyes reddening, her tone full of grievance and jealousy. "He must have gone to the Miaoyin Sect! He's been thinking about going there all this time!"
Lu Xueqi tilted her head to look at her, hands on her hips, looking quite mature: "Since you guessed it, why did you still make me go look for it? Are you trying to give up completely?"
"Mind your own business!" Long Kui suddenly stood up, her eyes glistening with tears, her anger surging. "Even you dare to bully me!" Before she finished speaking, she reached out to snatch the gleaming wooden sword from Xue Qi's waist—her "punching bag" whenever she was angry.
"Ouch!" Xueqi screamed and took off running, shouting as she ran, "When the young master comes back, he'll definitely want to see you first! I'm going back now!" Her small figure darted across the corridor like a swallow and disappeared behind the moon gate in the blink of an eye.
Longkui's hand froze in mid-air; she ultimately didn't chase after him.
She slowly sat back down on the stone steps, her shoulders slumped like a little sparrow with rain-soaked wings. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, her chin rested on them, her eyelashes drooped, and a tear silently slid down, landing on the instep encased in white stockings, spreading a small dark patch.
Han Xiaoliu did not return on the first day.
She silently broke off half of the lotus flowers in the pond; the broken leaves and withered petals floated on the water's surface as if weeping and lamenting.
There was still no news the next day.
She found an excuse to summon the shark general and shrimp soldiers from the lotus pond, and took the opportunity to vent her anger, beating them so badly that they fled in terror and have not dared to surface since.
On the morning of the third day, before the morning dew had dried, she finally couldn't hold back anymore. She leaned on the stone railing and cried uncontrollably, her shoulders heaving, just like a lonely soul who had been waiting alone in the Demon Locking Tower for a thousand years.
Even so, she still refused to go far.
He waited stubbornly by the lotus pond, at the entrance to the courtyard he always passed.
The wind blew up her white and green clothes, but it couldn't dispel the deep sorrow between her brows.
Three days and nights later, Han Xiaoliu finally left Miaoyin Pavilion with unsteady steps!
Outside Miaoyin Pavilion, dusk was falling, and the evening breeze, carrying the scents of perfume and sandalwood, gently brushed against the copper bells on the eaves.
"Young Master Han, take care! Come again next time! The girls are all ready for you!"
Fan Jingmei stood in front of the vermilion threshold, her hands clasped in front of her abdomen, her eyes crinkling into crescents as she smiled, the curve of her lips perfectly balanced—both attentive and dignified.
Her eyes, which were usually sharp enough to judge people by their status, were now shining with an astonishing light, as if she were seeing off not a cultivator, but a walking spirit stone mine, a living god of wealth.
Her fingertips trembled slightly, not from fear, but from excitement: In the past three days, she had witnessed firsthand how this "Young Master Han" had effortlessly drained the last bit of allure from the female cultivator of seductive arts, even collecting every last bit of pink mist in the air with his array plate, like a glutton swallowing clouds, leaving no trace.
Her mind was in turmoil: this person was no ordinary rogue cultivator.
He viewed dance as a lewd act, yet his heart remained calm to the point of being cold-blooded; he trained enchanting dancers as if they were crafting a weapon, meticulous to the smallest detail, with a precision that was chilling.
What's even more terrifying is that he never explains, only gives orders—and behind each order lies a scheme she can't understand.
Watching Han Xiaoliu's figure disappear around the street corner, Fan Jingmei's smile vanished instantly, as if a mask had been removed. Her lips twitched, and a thin layer of icy wariness surfaced in her eyes.
She turned around, her skirt sweeping silently across the blue bricks, her steps light yet firm, heading straight into the depths of the backyard.
The backyard is quiet and secluded, with swaying bamboo shadows.
Zhou Yuan sat gracefully before the sandalwood table, dressed in an elegant brocade dress, her hair styled in a low bun and adorned with a white magnolia hairpin, exuding a gentle and refined charm.
She was pointing at a spot in the account book with her pen, and softly said to the little girl beside her, "Ning'er, the account book is only for people to see. The apparent transactions should be made neat; the real inflows and outflows should be kept in your mind."
She lightly tapped the pages with her fingertips, her tone calm, yet each word sharp as a needle: "Some things are best left unsaid, known only to oneself."
Six-year-old Wang Ning looked up, her eyes devoid of childish innocence, only displaying a steady, earnest nod.
She had come to understand that in this dog-eat-dog world of cultivation, everything else was fake, only the trump card was real.
After her daughter left, Fan Jingmei slowly stepped forward, bowed, and said, "Madam, that person... has already left."
Zhou Yuan didn't look up, but gently put down her pen, tapping her fingertips twice on the desk—a slow but authoritative rhythm. She raised her eyes, her gaze like a deep pool: "You've noticed something unusual?"
Fan Jingmei's throat bobbed slightly as she lowered her voice, "He... seems... not an ordinary person!" Her voice grew softer and softer, and her palms were already sweating.
Zhou Yuan's eyes flashed, but she quickly regained her composure and said calmly, "Don't worry about that. We don't know his background, and we shouldn't try to find out. We just need to befriend him; the simpler, the safer."
She rose, her skirt billowing like waves, and as she turned, a glimpse of her slender yet strong wrist slipped from her sleeve. She stared at Fan Jingmei, then suddenly asked, "What did he say about the elixir deal?"
Fan Jingmei quickly took out a bluish-gray storage bag, presented it with both hands, her fingertips turning slightly white with nervousness: "He agreed. This is the first batch of supplies... but he made a few conditions."
Zhou Yuan took the storage bag and probed it with her divine sense—
In an instant, his pupils contracted sharply!
The bag contained a hundred medicinal herbs, their roots intact and their spiritual energy as dense as mist. Each herb was over three hundred years old!
At market price, it's worth tens of thousands of spirit stones, enough to support a small sect for half a year.
The other party casually regarded it as a "test" gift?
Her heart sank: this man's wealth far exceeded her expectations. Perhaps... he wasn't here to trade at all, but rather to use the guise of a transaction to select allies.
But her expression remained unchanged; she simply handed the storage bag back, her tone as calm as ever: "What requests did he make?"
Fan Jingmei understood and quickly put away the bag, whispering, "First, he hopes to sign an exclusive agreement with my Miaoyin Sect—from now on, all his spiritual medicines will only be shipped through us; second, he needs us to help him acquire demon beast resources, any kind, but the source must be clean and leave no trace."
Zhou Yuan's lips curled slightly, a glint of shrewdness flashing in her eyes: "It makes perfect sense. He wants distribution channels, we need a stable supply—a win-win situation." She paused, then asked, "Anything else?"
"He also said..." Fan Jingmei hesitated for a moment, then lowered her voice even further, "that he hopes we will keep his information as secret as possible and that he doesn't want to be the center of attention."
"'As much as possible'?" Zhou Yuan suddenly chuckled, her fingertips tracing the jade paperweight on the table. "That's a brilliant word. He knows the bait he's thrown out is too tempting, and sooner or later it will attract a swarm of sharks. He's not afraid of being exposed, he wants to buy time—he doesn't want to be interrupted before he's finished setting up his scheme."
She stood up, walked to the window, and gazed at the darkening sky in the distance, her eyes as deep as the night: "Do as he says. You handle it yourself, and make sure your hands are clean."
Just as Fan Jingmei was about to respond, she hesitated and said, "There's one more thing... He specifically asked for a section of Thunder Bamboo, and his tone was very firm, as if he already knew we had it."
"Heavenly Thunder Bamboo?" Zhou Yuan frowned, a warning bell ringing in her heart. Although this wasn't a top-grade spiritual material, it was something her husband had obtained from an ancient cultivator's cave before his death, hidden in a secret chamber, known only to a handful of people. How could he know?
She paused for a moment, a hint of weighing in her eyes—was it a test? A threat? Or…something else?
Finally, she sighed softly, went to the inner room, and took out a small ebony carved box. Opening the lid, half a bamboo section with white, crackling patterns lay quietly inside, emitting a faint rumbling sound.
"Fine." She handed the box to Fan Jingmei, her tone calm yet resolute. "It's just a rare material, not very useful. It's worth it to exchange it for his trust."
She paused, her gaze sharp as a blade: "Deliver it personally. Tell him—the agreement is reached, and the cooperation was successful."
Fan Jingmei took the wooden box with both hands. When her fingertips touched the surface of the box, she felt a faint electric current running through her, and her heart skipped a beat.
She bowed deeply and slowly withdrew.
The courtyard returned to silence.
Zhou Yuan stood by the window, her shadow elongated by the twilight, like a sharp sword hidden in its sheath.