Chapter Forty-Four: The Mysterious Stranger

“You’re later than usual. Did something delay you?” The footsteps were faint—so quiet that even in the stillness of night, masked by the wind, they were barely perceptible. But for Butterfly, this posed no challenge. Perhaps it was because she had lingered in this mountain valley for so long, her familiarity so intimate that not a single stir escaped her ear. Moreover, as she finished speaking, the figure was already standing at the door.

He neither knocked nor entered; a silent understanding seemed to pass between the two. The figure outside paused, his face obscured even beneath the moonlight. He wore the distinctive blue robes of the Qilian sect, marking him as one of the mountain’s own. Indeed, in this setting, only those from the mountain would dare come here. The snow wolves remained docile, showing no sign of unfamiliarity. In fact, as the figure appeared, the wolves betrayed a hint of fear, swiftly soothed by Butterfly’s gentle hand.

“Huai—no, perhaps that’s not how you should be addressed now. All these years, the rift between you and the King has hardly eased. He may not realize how deeply you hold him in your heart, that his role as your brother could compel you to seek solitude in this valley for so many years?” The figure finally spoke, his voice tinged with age—though not truly old, merely in contrast to Butterfly’s own, creating an illusion. He was a man, at most thirty or forty; an age at the height of vigor, yet the youthful naivety had faded from him.

“If I were you, I would never say such things—especially in front of those involved. Do you know, just your words could incite the King’s murderous intent? You’d best restrain yourself, or your life may not last long. Do you understand?” Her words were less warning than the counsel of a friend. Butterfly’s tone was unhurried, with no emphasis, as though speaking of ordinary matters. She understood—life and death mean little unless they touch oneself. The figure outside was suitably respectful; whatever he meant to say, he now held back. His lips curled in a self-mocking, somewhat proud smile. “Thank you for the reminder. I’ll remember it! I was indeed delayed tonight because Senior Brother returned, and the old man has gone to Yingyang. It seems the King is about to act!”

“Han Tan Yi, don’t worry about him. He’s merely a pawn. With you, and Seventh and Eighth, nothing major will trouble Qilian Mountain. But beware the old man—he’s not one to be easily dealt with. Otherwise, Shen Wansan wouldn’t have laid such an elaborate scheme. Everyone says people of the martial world value loyalty and disdain fame, yet how many escape the allure of power and prestige? Go back now—you can’t stay here long. If you’re discovered, it will be troublesome. This is your allotment for the month, take it.” Butterfly deliberated carefully, quickly comprehending everything. Indeed, if she were not clever and perceptive, she could never have survived so long in Qilian Mountain. The figure outside said nothing, but she knew well what he desired. If some chase fame and fortune willingly, he was merely compelled by circumstance.

A sharp sound split the air—a sign of Butterfly’s mastery. The door bore a tiny hole, and the object she flicked passed cleanly through it, leaving the surface untouched. Such skill could hardly be matched by ordinary people, or even by someone like Han Tan Yi, with more than ten years’ practice. Yet it posed no challenge for the figure outside, who caught it deftly. Holding it to the moonlight, he saw it was a pea-sized pill, indistinct but clearly medicinal.

Spring is a fine season, if only for the faint scent of flowers carried on the wind, soothing to the senses. But now, a strong fragrance enveloped the figure, unmistakably emanating from the pill. To others, it might be just a pleasant aroma, but to him, it was extraordinary. Merely inhaling its scent, he felt at ease, as though immersed in a sea of blossoms. Without hesitation, he tossed the pill into his mouth, swallowed it, and stepped back, murmuring, “Thank you.”

As soon as the words left his lips, the figure vanished, lingering not a moment longer. He always felt, for reasons unknown, as though someone watched him from the mountaintop. Who it was, he could not say, but the sensation unsettled him, even filled him with fear. The chain bridge was treacherous, especially at night, but he cared little; with a few nimble leaps, he disappeared into the darkness.

Butterfly remained unchanged; her demeanor was as steady upon his arrival as upon his departure, untouched by the world around her. Such people are of two kinds—either foolish, indifferent to all, or deep, whose hidden currents are invisible to others. Clearly, Butterfly was of the latter. As a friend, she would be a worthy companion; as an enemy, a deadly adversary. Her hand continued to caress the snow wolf, her face adorned with that singular smile.

Morning in Qilian Mountain was as ever; only the mist made the paths harder to discern. But for Han Tan Yi, this mattered little. He had grown up amid these woods, knowing every tree and blade of grass intimately. In his own words, he could traverse them blindfolded. Today, though, something felt strange. At first, he moved swiftly, eager to reach his destination, but soon hesitation overcame him, and his face betrayed uncertainty.

His goal was singular—the rear valley. Though he had not visited for more than half a month, a sense of unfamiliarity pervaded, as if everything had changed. Whether this was true, he could only shake his head. Aside from the new green shoots where once yellow leaves grew by the bridge, all else was unchanged—the bridge, the cabin, the drifting mist, even the person, just as before. The only difference, perhaps, was his own state of mind.

Once, he had felt a pressing desire to see her, as if missing a moment would leave him restless. Now, the feeling persisted, but tinged with avoidance. Even stepping onto the bridge, his movements were hesitant; he would take a step forward, then quickly retreat. His hand gripped the luminous pearl in his pocket, as if weighing his resolve, and a voice in his mind muttered: “Han Tan Yi, when did you become so timid? You’re just delivering something—weren’t you bold before? Why hesitate now? Whether she likes it or not, what you sought for her cannot remain with you. Who cares about those others—what concern are they to you? She is but a passerby, and after meeting, should be forgotten. Will you let your heart torment you forever, never returning to your path?”

With this, his resolve solidified. Han Tan Yi’s steps grew firm, as if by acting so, he could truly forget Shui Linglong. He had promised Shui Lianhua that he would never again set foot in the Blue Lotus Sect, nor speak of its existence to anyone. The former was easy enough; he knew the sect lay between Jinjiang City and Qilian Mountain, but its exact location was a mystery. As for the latter, he could only force himself to silence, hoping time would erase it. Yet this was difficult. It is easier to forget oneself than another—especially one for whom he had staked his life. That debt alone could never be repaid, and he had fallen in love besides. The memory of their past grew ever clearer in the young man’s mind.