Chapter 66 — The Talisman Painter Who Guards the Village

Two Ways of Self

Cố Thanh Việt stood in the middle of Cảnh Linh Đài at midnight, alone, looking at the induction stone that had still glowed an uneasy pale yellow color for many weeks - a color that had never stabilized since the night Diệp Sương was escorted away from Vân Tiêu Peak. He had spent the night here more than any other disciple, not necessarily because of the mission, but because this was the only place that still kept her memories intact, where the two of them used to sit quietly next to each other in the middle of the night, sharing things that could not be said anywhere else in the sect.

The sound of footsteps rang out behind him, causing him to turn around and see Âu Bội Nhi walking towards him, holding a cup of hot tea in her hand.

"You're awake again," she said, her voice both reproachful and worried, handing him the cup of tea. "If this keeps up, sooner or later you'll collapse in the middle of practice."

*

Thanh Việt took the cup of tea and did not respond immediately, his eyes still glued to the touchstone. "I keep having the feeling," he said finally, his voice low, "this change is not accidental. It's exactly like what I felt the night before the demon tide hit near the peak of Vân Tiêu, only this time, it's more smoldering, lasting longer, like a fever that hasn't broken out yet."

"Sister Chung said the same thing," Âu Bội Nhi admitted, her voice low. "But the council, especially the Elder Húc faction, insisted that this was just a normal seasonal fluctuation. They didn't want to mention anything that might have anything to do with the real reason Sương was banished."

Thanh Việt clenched the teacup in his hand, his knuckles turning white. "Every day I become more and more certain that the slander against Sương is not simply personal jealousy. Someone is deliberately suppressing all voices that can turn back the issue of Linh Mạch exploitation, and Sương is just the person standing closest to the truth, so she becomes the first obstacle to be removed."

*

A few days later, a letter from the capital Lệ Dương reached Thanh Việt, the familiar seal of the General's palace made his heart sink before he even opened it and read it.

"Son," his father wrote, his handwriting still as strong and decisive as his own, "I heard what happened at Tông Vân Các. I don't blame you for standing up for someone you trust; that is the spirit a soldier should have. But I need you to understand that my family's position in the royal court is currently more fragile than you think. There are forces just waiting for an excuse to associate the Cố family's reputation with those considered rebels. Be careful with every step, because every step I take carries the honor of my fallen brother."

Thanh Việt read and reread the last sentence many times, his heart heavy. His brother who died in battle, even though he was only briefly mentioned in family memories, was always a large shadow over every decision he made, like an invisible standard he was never sure he had reached.

*

That evening, Thanh Việt found Chung Nhã Trúc, who now, after the expulsion, had become a discreet contact with several people outside the sect who had feelings for Diệp Sương, including Tất Bá Kỳ who was stationed at Tiêu Sa Pass.

"Is there any news from Tiêu Sa Pass?" he asked, his voice quiet even though there was only darkness and the sound of insects around.

"Tất Bá Kỳ reports that the situation is still stable, although there are some minor signs of disturbance near the Hạn Thủy creek," Chung Nhã Trúc replied, her voice low and careful. "But he also said that recently someone from Khâm Vân Ti stopped by to check more often than usual, using the excuse of a routine survey, but the way he asked was like he was looking for something specific."

"What about Sương?" he continued asking, his voice unable to hide his concern. "There's been no news for a while."

Chung Nhã Trúc shook her head, her eyes full of concern. "Bội Nhi sent a letter to Tùng Lĩnh Village, but it was said that she left the village right after Elder Húc's people came down to inquire. Since then, no one knows where she is."

*

That answer made Thanh Việt feel even more uneasy. He stood up, paced back and forth in the dark, clenching his hands behind his back as was his habit when he was thinking intensely.

"I need to see Sương," he said finally, his voice determined. "Even just once, to make sure she's safe."

"What do you plan to do? Leaving the sect without permission at this time is putting yourself in danger," Chung Nhã Trúc worriedly reminded.

"I don't intend to leave the sect," Thanh Việt replied, "I just need a few days, using an excuse to inspect the situation around Lam Thủy Town under the orders of elder Tạ Vân Khê. If I'm lucky, maybe I'll find some clues about where Sương is hiding."

*

Tạ Vân Khê, when Thanh Việt came to present her intention, did not immediately object, she just sat quietly looking at him for a long time, her eyes carrying a deep understanding that she rarely revealed in front of other disciples.

“I understand why you want to go,” she said, her voice slow. "But you must remember, you are not only Cố Thanh Việt in love with a wronged girl, you are also the son of General Cố Bạt Nguyên, and now, you are also one of the few people who can be trusted to keep discreet contact with clues outside the sect. If you reveal yourself too soon, too carelessly, you will lose the ability to help Sương in a more permanent way."

"So what does the elder advise you to do?" Thanh Việt asked, his voice somewhat helpless.

"I will issue you an official order, under the pretext of inspecting the security area around Lam Thủy Town for seven days," Tạ Vân Khê replied, her eyes flashing with a rare mischievous glint. "You go ahead. But remember, seven days, no more. And if you find Sương, tell her, I'm still keeping my promise."

*

Before leaving the sect, Thanh Việt accidentally met Wei Bá Tuân at the three-entrance gate. Since the night of his late confession during the trial, the disciple who had openly despised Diệp Sương's background had rarely spoken, often quietly separating from the crowd, his eyes always carrying a look of torment that was difficult to name.

"Are you looking for her too?" Wei Bá Tuân asked, his voice lacking any familiar irony.

Thanh Việt nodded, not bothering to hide it. "Do you have anything to say?"

Wei Bá Tuân was silent for a long time, his hands tightening on the hem of his shirt. "Tell her," he said finally, his voice hoarse, "that I'm sorry for not having the courage to speak up sooner, when the worst could have been prevented. I don't expect her to forgive me, I just hope she knows that not everyone in the sect honestly believes that she is guilty." Thanh Việt looked at him for a moment, nodded, did not say anything more, just patted his shoulder before turning and walking out of the three-entrance gate, carrying that message with the faint hope that one day it would be returned to the right person.

*

During those seven days, Thanh Việt rode non-stop, searching all the villages around Lam Thủy Town and the surrounding areas of Tùng Lĩnh Village, but could not find any specific trace of where Diệp Sương was staying. He only heard from a few villagers about a strange girl who once saved a small, remote western hamlet from a deformed beast. The rumors were vague and distant, not enough to determine a certain direction.

The last night before being forced to return to the sect, he stopped on the side of a high hill, looking towards the far west where the mountains were dim in the afternoon mist, his heart heavy because he could not accomplish what he wanted most.

"Where are you, Sương?" he asked softly into the void, his voice almost like a prayer. "Wherever you are, I hope you're at peace, and I hope, when we both meet again, this world won't collapse before I can say all the things I haven't been able to say."

*

On the way back to Vân Tiêu Peak, a strange wind blew, bringing a familiar shiver down his spine - the military instinct his father had always reminded him to cherish, the same sense that had warned him about the demon tide near Vân Tiêu Peak that year.

He stopped his horse, turned his head to look at the horizon, where dark clouds were gathering into an unusually large mass in the distance, even though it was not yet stormy season. The feeling was unlike anything he had ever experienced before — not a small, localized threat, but more like a giant pressure that was silently building up over a large area, waiting to explode.

"Something is coming," he muttered, tightening his grip on the reins, urging his horse to gallop faster toward the top of Vân Tiêu, the sound of the horse's hooves pounding on the dry dirt road, mixed with the sound of the wind blowing stronger and stronger across the mountainside. "And it won't be small at all."