Chapter 492 - 171: Old Friend (Part 2)

「Three days later.」

At noon, the sun was at its peak, bathing the mountains of the Xuanzhen Sect in a pleasant warmth.

Yang Jing emerged from a Level C Training Room, his temples still glistening with a thin layer of sweat. The Inner Qi circulating through his body had yet to completely settle.

He raised a hand to wipe away the sweat and started down the mountain path toward Qing No. 4 Courtyard.

Just as he reached the courtyard gate, Yang Jing paused, slightly taken aback.

An outer sect disciple in a blue robe stood formally beside the stone steps outside the gate. His hands were clasped at his sides, his back ramrod straight. It looked as though he had been waiting for some time.

Yang Jing’s brow twitched. ’Who could this be?’ he wondered.

He didn’t know many outer sect disciples, and this person’s face was completely unfamiliar. He had no idea who he was or why he was here.

The outer sect disciple had sharp eyes. Spotting Yang Jing approaching, he immediately put on a respectful expression, hurried forward a few steps, and bowed. "Greetings, Senior Brother Yang," he said in a clear voice.

Yang Jing stopped and looked at the disciple before him. "What do you need from me?" he asked.

The disciple replied quickly, his tone growing even more deferential. "Senior Brother Yang, I’m a disciple on duty on the Outer Island. I was instructed to deliver a letter to you today."

With that, he took a neatly folded envelope from his robes and presented it to Yang Jing with both hands.

The mail collection office next to the Outer Island Pier’s main square received a large volume of letters every day.

Most of these letters had to be picked up by the disciples themselves.

Only letters for elite disciples at the Qi Eating Realm or higher would be hand-delivered by a disciple on duty, as arranged by the mail office manager.

Yang Jing nodded. "Thank you," he said, reaching out to take the envelope.

It felt slightly heavy in his hand; the envelope was made of thick paper.

Seeing that Yang Jing had accepted the letter, the outer sect disciple bowed once more. "The letter has been delivered. I will take my leave now."

Yang Jing waved a hand. "Take care." He watched the disciple’s back as he walked away briskly, then lowered his gaze to the envelope in his hand.

The envelope was unadorned, save for a single character neatly written in ink over the seal: Lu.

Yang Jing frowned, his confusion deepening.

’I don’t think I know anyone with the surname Lu,’ he thought, ’let alone someone who would write me a letter.’

Still puzzled, Yang Jing took out his key and unlocked the bronze lock on the courtyard gate.

He pushed the gate open, stepped inside, and shut it behind him, closing off the noise from the outside world.

The courtyard was quiet, with only the rustling of leaves in the wind.

Clutching the letter marked with "Lu," Yang Jing slowly walked toward the main house, tearing open the seal as he went.

Yang Jing pulled out the letter. As his eyes fell upon the elegant, beautiful script, he had a sudden realization.

It was a letter from Miss Jinlian.

He then recalled Liu Maolin mentioning once that Miss Jinlian had married into the Lu Family of the Prefecture City.

Later, the Lu Family suffered a sudden tragedy. The master, mistress, and young master all died violent deaths one after another, and the family’s business fell onto Miss Jinlian’s shoulders. She had managed to stabilize the situation and take control of the Lu Family’s power.

No wonder the envelope was marked with "Lu." She must have used the Lu Family’s channels to have this letter delivered all the way to the Xuanzhen Sect.

By now, Yang Jing had some understanding of the power structure in the Prefecture City. He knew the Lu Family was not a major family; at best, they were an ordinary second- or third-rate family.

When Master Lu was still alive, he had relied on his shrewd methods and his own strength at the Qi Eating Realm to barely squeeze into the ranks of the second-rate families.

But since Master Lu’s passing, even though Miss Jinlian had stabilized their enterprises, she had been forced to scale back significantly. Now, they were merely at the level of a third-rate family.

The letter’s contents were simple. Miss Jinlian wrote that she had just finished handling some lingering matters in Yuhe County and had returned to the Prefecture City, accompanied by Liu Maolin.

She had heard that Yang Jing’s reputation was now flourishing in the Xuanzhen Sect and wished to pay him a visit this evening. She even suggested a meeting place: the small town on the western shore of Hidden Dragon Lake.

Yang Jing carefully folded the letter, slipped it back into the envelope, and put it away.

Then a thought struck him. He should make a trip to Yunxi Peak soon. Senior Sister Ning Xiang would surely be delighted to hear that Senior Brother Liu had arrived.

...

The setting sun slanted westward, dyeing the clouds crimson as evening quietly fell.

Yang Jing arrived at the foot of Yunxi Peak and saw Sun Ningxiang’s figure in the distance.

Today, she wore a pale pink dress. Her complexion was rosy and her spirits much improved. Clearly, the internal injuries she sustained from her last attempt to break through had mostly healed.

The two met up and began walking side-by-side toward the Fushan Island Pier.

Before long, they arrived at the Fushan Island Pier.

The pier was bustling at this hour. Many black-canopied boats were docked, and numerous Xuanzhen Sect disciples milled about, most of them outer sect disciples in blue robes.

They were traveling in groups or heading out alone on errands. Shouts and laughter mingled, creating a lively clamor.

A wide smile graced Sun Ningxiang’s face, and her steps were much lighter now.

Ever since leaving Yuhe County for the Xuanzhen Sect, she had deeply missed her fellow disciples from home.

The two chatted as they walked, both eagerly anticipating the reunion with their old friends.

Soon, they boarded a black-canopied boat headed for the western shore.

The oars cut through the water, sending out ripples. Before long, they arrived at the small town on the western shore of Hidden Dragon Lake.

The moment they stepped onto the town’s bluestone-paved roads, the bustling atmosphere of a market town washed over them.

The streets were lined with all sorts of shops, from clothiers and restaurants to general stores. The shop signs hanging by their doors swayed in the breeze.