Everyone's face changed. Song Dayi, forcing himself to stand, dropped to his knees, and all the other disciples knelt before Tian Buhui, crying: "Master, spare our young junior brother!"

Song Dayi added: "Master, I—cough, cough—I, it was my poor teaching that led our young junior brother into wrongdoing. The fault is all mine. Please, just spare him."

Amid the pleading, Tian Lingsu stood motionless where she was, staring blankly at Zhang Qingyue, who struggled in agony in the corner by the wall, blood staining his garments, her face as white as paper, without a trace of color.

Tian Buhui looked at the disciples kneeling at his feet, then fixed his eyes on Zhang Qingyue still in the corner. His wrath unabated, he gave an angry snort, flung his sleeve, and strode out. Su Wan glanced at the others, shook her head, and sighed softly. To Song Dayi and the rest she said: "All of you, get up." Then she looked toward Zhang Qingyue in the distance, and to Song Dayi, whom He Dachuan was helping to his feet, she said: "You see to Xiaofan. I'm going to look in on your master."

Song Dayi and the others said hastily: "Yes, Mistress."

With another soft sigh, Su Wan went out.

In the room, the others looked at one another. After a long while, Tian Lingsu walked slowly over, her back to them all, and helped Zhang Qingyue up. Bloody froth ran from the corner of his mouth; lying in the crook of her arm, he actually smiled.

In that instant, a cool tear slipped quietly down into the pool of blood upon his face.

By now it was deep into the night. Above the sea of clouds the mist still drifted as ever, beautiful as fairyland.

Tian Buhui stood in the great square, his head raised to the sky.

Countless stars filled the night sky, cold as frost.

Behind him came the sound of familiar footsteps. Su Wan came to his side, looked up at the starry sky, and said with a faint smile: "Feeling a little better?"

Tian Buhui gave a snort, but said nothing.

Su Wan smiled faintly. "You can fool Daren and Ling'er and the rest, but you cannot fool me. That sweep of your sleeve—I suspect you deliberately jolted the meridian channels in Xiaofan's chest, to force the congested blood out of his body. Am I right?"

Tian Buhui stared at the night sky without a word.

Su Wan shook her head. "A man several hundred years old, and still so desperate to save face!"

Tian Buhui turned his head and glared at his wife. "You saw it yourself, the way that wretched boy carried on—'Master, please punish me!'" He mimicked Zhang Qingyue's tone, then said angrily, "He was plainly in the wrong, yet he made it sound as though he had been grievously wronged, as if I, his master, had bullied and coerced him! The sheer outrageousness of it!"

Su Wan glanced back toward the lodging quarters. "I refuse to believe you did not notice."

Tian Buhui said, "Notice what?"

Su Wan said mildly, "Ling'er's manner was very strange. Do you not think so?"

Tian Buhui snorted.

Su Wan smiled. "So you saw it too. Xiaofan has spent these five years on Dazhu Peak and never once gone out; the only way he could have learned it is if one of our own disciples passed it to him in secret. Ling'er has always been close to Xiaofan, and she has long relied on our indulgence—I daresay she would dare to secretly teach him the third-layer formula. And if her conscience were clear, would a girl who always rushes to Xiaofan's defense over every little thing have held her tongue entirely this time? If not her, then who?"

Tian Buhui seemed to have anticipated his wife's words; no surprise showed on his face, but anger remained, and he said with a note of grievance, "Even if it is Ling'er's fault, did you see how that Zhang Qingyue boy, in front of so many disciples, stood there and talked back to me and would not yield a word? He deserves death!"

Su Wan laughed despite herself and patted her husband's shoulder reproachfully. "Aren't you the same—stubborn as a mule and never admitting fault—and yet you blame a child? Besides, Xiaofan did all this for Ling'er's sake. Such devotion is rare!"

Tian Buhui rolled his strange eyes, but said no more.

Su Wan glanced at him. "Then how do you mean to settle matters once we return? The charge of stealing arts behind your master's back is no small thing—it can be made much of or little of. Why not, for Ling'er's sake, not be too harsh? Tomorrow let Xiaofan return to Dazhu Peak and face the wall in the back mountain for thirty or fifty years, and let that be an end to it."

Tian Buhui started, then snorted, but said, "It was no easy thing for my faction to produce a—a prodigy at last. Making him face the wall would only delight Cangsong and Shang Zhengliang and the rest. Not a chance! Tomorrow, whether he lives or dies, he will go on with the tournament."

Su Wan smiled sweetly, her beauty stirring, and stepped up to take her husband's hand. "I knew it—you talk tough, but your heart is soft."

A flush actually rose on Tian Buhui's plump face, though it quickly passed. He glanced around. "We are an old married couple—have you no fear of others laughing?"

Su Wan gave him a sidelong look, her eyes full of laughter. "What, now that you are a faction leader you have grown afraid? Three hundred years ago, also here on Jietian Peak, during the Seven Factions Tournament, you slipped out late at night to my quarters and called me out to this very spot—my master, the Venerable Zhenyu, and my senior sister Shuiyue were both nearby then, and I never saw you afraid!"

Tian Buhui chuckled. "Your master Zhenyu must have been six hundred-odd then—senile long ago. I was not afraid of her. As for that fiend-faced senior sister of yours, I never could stand the sight of her. If she wanted to be lonely all her life, fine, but she had to drag you down with her. I hate her too much to fear her!"

Su Wan glared at him. "You are not to speak ill of my honored master and senior sister! They have always been deeply kind to me."

Tian Buhui shrugged and said nothing. In the moonlight his short, stout body gave a little shake, rather comical, and his expression held a trace of smugness—as much as to say, however good they were to you, in the end you married me.

Su Wan saw it plainly and could not help chiding, "You old reprobate."

Tian Buhui was in excellent spirits. He reached out and took his wife's hand, smooth as silk, and walked slowly on through the sea of clouds.

"Oh—I had forgotten something important."

"What is it?"

"That wretched boy used an iron staff as a magic artifact, and wielded it to great effect. I was so angry just now I forgot to take a look at the thing."

"Xiaofan has been cultivating on his own, after all; he likely knows little about wielding and controlling artifacts. Do you think you might find a time to instruct him?"

"Hmph, we shall see. Last night the sect leader called us faction leaders together. He said that after communicating with the Spirit Venerable through spirit-communication arts, he believed the Venerable had stirred because it sensed the baleful aura of some fierce creature—but afterward it could no longer be found."

"Then what is to be done?"

"What can be done? If it cannot be found, it cannot be found. The Spirit Venerable has lived at least six thousand years—your master was senile at six hundred, so it is no wonder the Venerable is a little muddled now!"

""