Suo Qingjun Chapter 1

Marriage Urged Amidst Deep Clouds, Sword Heart Rejects Worldly Ties.

Listening to the rain under the eaves, a paper umbrella is first unfurled. Jin’an is hidden in the gaze of a first meeting, while Xubai falls within the wet traces of ink. The story begins under those eaves years ago…

Cangwu Mountain spans a thousand miles, its seventy-two peaks piercing the clouds. Year-round, it is shrouded in layers of spiritual mist. As the mountain winds pass, the haze billows like waves, revealing only the dark green tips of the peaks hidden between the light of the sky and the shadows of the clouds, appearing like a celestial palace. Only at the main peak, Qihe Peak, is the spiritual mist slightly thinner. Beside the cliffs, cloud pines lean precariously, and stone paths meander upward. At the summit, ancient temples stand in layers, their flying eaves and upturned corners reflecting the sky. This is the world-renowned Xuanqing Sword Sect.

The current Sword-Bearing Master of the sect, Qing Feng’an, is a sword arts genius rarely seen in a century. At only eighteen, he had already mastered the sect’s supreme technique, the Seven Styles of Cloud Flow, to the point of perfection. When his sword is drawn, it is like flowing wind and returning snow; the sword shadows fall like rolling and unfurling clouds. His three-foot blade can break through a hundred feet of astral wind, and few in the martial world can rival him. Furthermore, he possesses refined features, a face as fair as jade, a high bridge of the nose, and a sharp, well-defined lip line. He usually wears moon-white sword robes, his posture as upright as a pine tree. However, his eyes are habitually as calm as a cold pond or a deep spring, without a single ripple, as if nothing in the world can enter his heart.

Such a brilliant and stunning figure should have been the glory of the Xuanqing Sword Sect, yet he caused the three white-haired elders of the sect to worry until their hair turned even whiter and their hearts were worn thin.

The back mountain of Qihe Peak is where Qing Feng’an usually practices his sword and cultivates his mind. Here, the bamboo shadows are dense, and ten thousand acres of emerald bamboo sway with the wind, rustling softly. Between them, a clear stream gurgles around stones, its water crisp and cold, reflecting the bamboo shadows and the light of the sky. It is quiet and serene, untouched by the clamor of the world.

Qing Feng’an stood with his hands behind his back by a blue stone near the stream, his moon-white sword robes fluttering slightly in the breeze, his sleeves flying like drifting clouds. The famous sword at his side, Light Chaser, leaned against the stone. Its scabbard was simple and ancient, carved with faint cloud patterns. Though the sword was not drawn, it already emitted a faint, cold sword intent, reflecting the sky and shimmering with fine silver light. He looked down at the bamboo shadows floating in the stream, his gaze calm. His entire aura was distant and cold, merging with the bamboo forest and the clear stream as if he naturally belonged to this tranquil world.

Qing Feng!

Qing Feng’an!

Three calls overlapped, breaking the silence of the bamboo forest. They carried a hint of urgency as they approached from afar. Qing Feng’an slowly raised his eyes and saw three elders dressed in plain white Taoist robes walking toward him. Leading them was the Great Elder of the Xuanqing Sword Sect, Perfected Xuanji, who was also Qing Feng’an’s grand-uncle. Over seventy years old with white hair and beard, he held a horsetail whisk. His face was lean and his eyes were bright, though his brow was currently furrowed with a serious expression. Following behind him were the Second Elder, Perfected Xuanyue, and the Third Elder, Perfected Xuansu. Perfected Xuanyue was burly and broad-shouldered with a voice like a great bell and a straightforward nature. Perfected Xuansu had a gentle face and soft eyes, being the most soft-hearted of the three elders.

As the three reached Qing Feng’an, Perfected Xuanji flicked his whisk and spoke with unquestionable gravity: Qing Feng, you are twenty-one this year. Looking across the entire Xuanqing Sword Sect, many of your peers in the sect have long since started families and established careers, with children playing at their knees. Even your youngest junior brother from back then has now taken a wife and sired a son and a daughter to gladden his heart. As the Sword-Bearing Master of the Xuanqing Sword Sect, you bear the heavy responsibility of the sect’s legacy. How can you remain alone forever, without a single tie to this world?

Qing Feng’an’s gaze shifted slightly, but he did not speak, merely listening quietly.

The Second Elder, Perfected Xuanyue, stepped forward and said in a gruff voice: Qing Feng, it is not that we old fellows are forcing you, but you must know that for those in the martial world, starting a family and cultivation do not conflict. Back then, your master married at your age. After his marriage, his state of mind became even more peaceful, and his sword arts actually reached a higher level, eventually making him a grandmaster of his generation. We are not being unreasonable; we have already scouted several ladies from prestigious families for you. You must have heard of Murong Xue, the daughter of the Murong family from Gusu. That girl is not only peerlessly beautiful but has also practiced martial arts since childhood. She has mastered the Murong family’s Flowing Cloud Sword Technique to perfection; she is a match made in heaven for you. There is also Tang Yuwei of the Tang Clan in Shu, who is exceptionally intelligent and proficient in hidden weapons and poisons. Her lively personality would perfectly complement your cold nature. Would that not be a fine match?

The Third Elder, Perfected Xuansu, sighed softly, her tone much gentler. She pulled at Qing Feng’an’s sleeve and said softly: Qing Feng, we know you have been dedicated to the sword since you were a child, with only the Great Dao of sword arts in your heart. But you must understand that among the three thousand paths of the Great Dao, the word emotion is not an obstacle to cultivation, but rather an excellent opportunity to temper the heart in the red dust. With your talent, if you could have a companion to share your days and ease your worries, your path of cultivation might go even further. Furthermore, the Xuanqing Sword Sect has a hundred-year foundation passed down through generations. You cannot let the sect’s exquisite sword techniques lose their bloodline succession once they reach you, can you?

The three elders spoke one after another, every word coming from the bottom of their hearts and filled with earnest concern.

Qing Feng’an slowly turned around, his gaze sweeping over the expectant faces of the three elders. His tone remained flat and calm, yet carried a hint of firmness: I appreciate the kind intentions of the three elders. However, since I entered the mountain at the age of six, I have been raised and nurtured by my master and the elders. I swore an oath in my youth to pursue the highest realm of sword arts and reach the pinnacle of the martial world. Romantic entanglements and worldly trifles are, to me, nothing more than shackles on the path of cultivation. I am unwilling to be distracted by them.

Shackles? Upon hearing this, Perfected Xuanji’s face instantly darkened. He swung his whisk sharply, the silk strands flying through the air with a hint of anger. Qing Feng, how can you say such a thing? In the vast martial world, how many righteous sects rely on the succession of bloodlines through generations to endure and flourish to this day? Could the Xuanqing Sword Sect have achieved its current status with just one man and one sword? If you insist on this path and remain alone, to whom will the hundred-year foundation of the Xuanqing Sword Sect be handed a century from now? Do you intend to let the lifeblood of our ancestors be destroyed in an instant?

There are many disciples in the sect. Among those who have entered in recent years, there is no lack of those with outstanding talent and pure character. As long as they are nurtured with care, in time, they may be able to shoulder the sect’s burdens and continue the legacy of the Xuanqing Sword Sect, Qing Feng’an said calmly and neither humbly nor arrogantly.

Disciples are disciples, bloodline is bloodline! Perfected Xuanyue roared in anger, his voice causing the surrounding bamboo leaves to rustle and fall. Before your master passed away, he held the hands of the three of us and specifically entrusted us to ensure you start a family and continue the lineage, so as not to fail our ancestors. If you insist on refusing today, you are defying your master’s orders and being unfilial and disrespectful!

At the mention of his master, Qing Feng’an’s brow furrowed imperceptibly. He had always respected his master, who was like both a teacher and a father to him. He could never forget the debt of being raised and the virtue of being taught. The three elders had also taken meticulous care of him over the years, their kindness as heavy as a mountain. He did not wish to argue with them, nor did he wish to hurt their feelings. But marriage was a matter of a lifetime; he truly did not want to force himself to spend his life with someone he had never met and whose heart did not align with his.

A brief silence fell by the stream, broken only by the cold water and the swaying bamboo shadows.

Qing Feng’an lowered his eyes in contemplation for a moment. When he looked up, his gaze was much more peaceful. He bowed slightly to the three elders and said in a deep voice: Elders, it is not my intention to defy my master’s orders, nor am I ungrateful. It is just that marriage is determined by fate and cannot be forced. How about this: I am willing to go down the mountain to gain experience. Firstly, to observe the current situation of the martial world and the movements of various sects; secondly, to give myself a chance to step out of Cangwu Mountain and see the mortal world. If I truly encounter someone whose heart aligns with mine on this journey, I will follow the elders’ wishes to start a family and continue the lineage. If there is still no such fate within three years, I ask the elders to be understanding and stop pressuring me.

The three elders looked at each other with hesitation in their eyes, but they knew Qing Feng’an’s character was proud and that he always meant what he said. If they forced him too hard, it might have the opposite effect. Perfected Xuanji stroked his beard and pondered for a long while before finally nodding: Very well. You have always been proud and aloof; if you do not experience the mortal world for yourself, you likely won’t be satisfied. This journey down the mountain will be limited to three years. If there is still no progress within three years, do not blame us old fellows for forcibly arranging a marriage for you to fulfill your master’s dying wish and honor the ancestors of the Xuanqing Sword Sect.

Thank you for your understanding, elders. Qing Feng’an bowed again, his tone sincere.

Perfected Xuanyue snorted coldly but did not object further, only saying: After going down the mountain, be careful in all things. The martial world is treacherous and not as peaceful as Cangwu Mountain; you must not be careless. Keep your Light Chaser sword with you at all times. Do not try to be a hero when things go wrong. Remember, you are not just yourself, but the Sword-Bearing Master of the Xuanqing Sword Sect.

I will keep the elder’s teachings in mind.

The Third Elder, Perfected Xuansu, gave detailed instructions: The customs of the Jiangnan water towns are gentle, but they also hide crouching tigers and hidden dragons. You will be alone; take good care of yourself outside, eat on time, and do not forget to eat and sleep because of your sword practice. If you encounter difficulties, send word back to the mountain. The sect will always be your support.

I understand. Qing Feng’an’s gaze softened slightly, a rare occurrence.

The next morning, just as the sky was beginning to brighten and Qihe Peak was still shrouded in morning mist, Qing Feng’an had already finished his preparations. He had changed out of his usual moon-white sword robes and into a set of green cloth clothes, plain and simple, which further emphasized his tall stature and refined features. He carefully placed the Light Chaser sword into its ancient scabbard and carried it on his back, the scabbard pressing against his spine with a familiar coldness. He did not disturb the other disciples in the sect, and he did not even say goodbye to the three elders. Leaving only a letter behind, he quietly descended Qihe Peak alone.

The Cangwu Mountain range stretched for a thousand miles with rugged paths and steep cliffs. While ordinary people would find it difficult to walk, Qing Feng’an’s steps were light. Using the Xuanqing Sect’s unique lightness technique, Cloud-Treading Steps, his figure moved through the mountain forests like a clear breeze, his sleeves fluttering like a banished immortal descending to the world. The bluestone paths beneath his feet were gradually replaced by dirt mountain trails. On both sides, ancient trees reached for the sky, their lush foliage blocking the sun. Birds chirped in the forest, mountain springs tinkled, and occasionally spiritual deer or wild rabbits would dart past. Upon seeing him, they would only steal a timid glance before vanishing into the woods.

He traveled east, moving by day and resting by night. When hungry, he picked wild fruits; when thirsty, he drank from mountain springs; when tired, he sat under a tree to meditate and regulate his breath. After several days, he did not feel at all fatigued. Before long, he left the Cangwu Mountain range and arrived at the major Jiangnan town of Gusu City.

Gusu City had been a prosperous place in Jiangnan since ancient times. The Grand Canal ran through the city, with intersecting waterways forming a dense network. Painted pleasure boats glided over the waves to the sound of rhythmic sculling. On both banks, pavilions and towers stood in rows with white walls, black tiles, and flying eaves hidden among weeping willows and blooming flowers. Every corner displayed the gentle scenery of a Jiangnan water town. It was late spring, and willow catkins flew throughout the city like snow or mist, dampening clothes. The peach blossoms, apricot blossoms, and crabapples along the streets were in full bloom, a riot of colors with a refreshing fragrance that soaked into the heart.

On the streets, the noise was deafening and traffic was heavy. Vendors carrying poles hawked their wares with loud voices. Laughter and chatter drifted from wine shops and teahouses, while the melodious sounds of silk and bamboo instruments floated from the pleasure boats into the distance. Compared to the quiet serenity of Cangwu Mountain, the bustling prosperity of Gusu City felt like a different world.

Standing at the city gate of Gusu, Qing Feng’an looked at the mundane life before him. His gaze shifted slightly, a trace of imperceptible bewilderment flashing in his eyes. He had grown up on Cangwu Mountain, accustomed to bamboo forests, clear streams, seas of clouds, and mountain peaks. Such a noisy and bustling mortal world was somewhat foreign to him.

He frowned slightly, avoiding the crowded streets as he walked slowly along the riverbank until he found a quiet inn by the water. The inn was not large but was clean and tidy. Opening a window, one could see the waterway outside, with willow branches trailing by the shore and pleasure boats drifting by. Qing Feng’an took a guest room on the second floor. Setting down the sword on his back and washing up briefly, he sat by the wooden table near the window. Looking at the Jiangnan scenery outside, his gaze returned to its usual calm.

He had no interest in the disputes and grudges of the martial world, nor in the romantic entanglements of the mortal realm. This journey down the mountain was merely to appease the three elders and settle their concerns. As for finding someone whose heart aligned with his, it was nothing more than a casual promise to him. He had come out this time simply to see the local customs of Jiangnan and experience the atmosphere of the mortal world. Perhaps it would bring some new insights to his sword arts, allowing him to reach a higher level beyond the Seven Styles of Cloud Flow.

Outside the window, willow catkins drifted and the fragrance of flowers lingered. The sound of sculling oars and musical instruments intertwined, forming a melody unique to Jiangnan. Qing Feng’an raised his hand, picked up the clear tea on the table, and took a sip. The tea was crisp and left a sweet aftertaste. Looking at the flowing water outside, he murmured softly: Three years…

As the words fell, they dissipated into the Jiangnan breeze. Only the willow catkins outside continued to dance with the wind, drifting toward parts unknown.