Chapter 86: The Return Gift Is Cause for Concern

All along the way, Liu Xiaolou had barely gotten any proper rest. Now that his hardships were finally over, he could at last enjoy a good, comfortable sleep. He slept for more than two hours straight, and in a groggy haze, he became aware of some noise outside. That was enough to wake him. From outside the main room, he heard the White-Robed Swordsman say, “…yes, I am Yun.” Another voice answered, polite and respectful. “My master says if it truly is the White-Robed Swordsman, he will personally come to meet you. Please wait a moment, Young Master Yun.” “I wouldn’t dare trouble him,” replied the White-Robed Swordsman. “If Uncle has the time, I’ll of course go pay my respects in person. Butler Song, please lead the way.” “I wouldn’t dare presume. Please, Young Master Yun, follow me…” Footsteps sounded as the White-Robed Swordsman followed the butler of Shenwu Manor out of the courtyard, leaving Liu Xiaolou alone in the room to think. Was the White-Robed Swordsman really that important? For the master to treat him with such special regard, meeting him even before the engagement talks, well, it seemed that despite the manor’s grandeur, it probably didn’t compare to the Li family of Great Wood Mountain. Not even the Zheng family of Luoshan would go this far. If that was the case, maybe this family’s splendor was only for show. When the matter was settled, the return gift might be… questionable. But then again, he thought, anyone who could set up a soundproofing formation for an entire waterfall couldn’t exactly be short on spirit stones, could they? Something felt off. After thinking it over for a moment, he decided to go out and take a walk, see for himself what was going on. Leaving the guest courtyard, he followed the covered walkway to another yard, and suddenly spotted a man sitting by a flower terrace, head tilted back to watch the osmanthus tree in the middle of the courtyard. A few sparrows were hopping and flitting about in its branches. Liu Xiaolou’s experience was already considerable. Seeing that the man was not yet thirty, he guessed he was probably here for the same marriage gathering; though from which prominent family, he couldn’t say. So he stepped forward and cupped his fists. “Greetings, brother.” When he got closer, Liu Xiaolou’s eyelids twitched, and a smile crept to his lips. The man’s clothes were neat enough, but his blue robe had faded with age, washed who knows how many times, and there was even a patch on the cuff of his trousers. This wasn’t a young master from some great family. This was a fallen noble, someone whose fortunes had sunk so far he was doing worse than Liu Xiaolou himself. And yet he dared to come here seeking a bride? Either he was overconfident and blind to reality, or he had the same kind of scheme in mind as Liu Xiaolou. A few words of small talk were enough for Liu Xiaolou to be sure it was the latter. This man was a fellow brother on the same path. He hadn’t even reached the threshold of cultivation. His meridians were only half-open, which made him at best a martial artist. In the jianghu, there was a clear pecking order: the great sects of blessed lands looked down on the elite families; the elite families looked down on loose sects; loose sects looked down on the guilds; the guilds looked down on independent cultivators; independent cultivators looked down on rogue cultivators and bandits; and those rogues and bandits, in turn, looked down on mere martial artists. Take Liu Xiaolou for example. He and his Wulong Mountain companions considered themselves ordinary independent cultivators, but the great sects still lumped them in with rogues and bandits. That put them near the bottom of the pecking order. The lower you went, the lower it got. Still, whether ordinary independent or rogue, they all looked down on common martial artists. So Liu Xiaolou had no interest in chatting with that man any further. A mere martial artist. What could he possibly know? He went to another guest courtyard, and this time he finally ran into an ordinary independent cultivator. But the man’s cultivation was the same as his own, at the third layer of Qi Refinement, and his looks were nothing special. Hr was far less handsome than Liu Xiaolou. Feeling overshadowed, the man grew openly hostile, and his replies to Liu Xiaolou’s attempts at conversation were curt and uninformative. Whether the man truly didn’t know anything or was only pretending, Liu Xiaolou saw it clear as day. He could only shake his head and leave. Petty fellow. His search for friends here wasn’t going well, but he did notice one thing: most of the young cultivators who had come seeking a bride were of modest backgrounds, some even downright shabby. By comparison, his own situation actually put him in the middle of the pack. The Shenyu Manor marriage gathering wasn’t exactly high-class. And if the standards weren’t high, that meant the return gifts could be an issue. The thought made him a little anxious. But since he was already here, it wouldn’t do to back out at the last moment. That would make all his trouble for nothing. Even if there were no spirit stones, pocketing ten or twenty taels of silver would be better than nothing. And if he could get his hands on some spirit wine, that would be an unexpected bonus. Liu Xiaolou’s expectations dropped sharply. Since the conversations were going nowhere, after a few more “chance” encounters with other suitors, he lost interest entirely. He didn’t even bother to subtly inquire about the host family’s surname. Something of a failure, really. One of them, a man surnamed Dong, was especially wary of him. Practically radiating hostility, his face set in a permanent scowl. Liu Xiaolou had no idea what he’d done to offend him. In the end, he shamelessly pulled aside a maid and managed to find out that the master of the manor was surnamed Su. As for the details of this marriage gathering, the maid claimed she knew nothing. Even if she did, she had no doubt been ordered to keep silent, so there was little useful information to be had. While Liu Xiaolou was making inquiries here and there, the White-Robed Swordsman was in the manor lord’s flower hall, sipping tea and making small talk with the host. The host, Su Zhi, was over fifty years old. He wasn’t frail, but his head was already white as snow. After inviting the White-Robed Swordsman to sit, he said, “I hear my nephew came into the mountains for the matter of my daughter. I truly find it puzzling. May I ask why?” The White-Robed Swordsman replied respectfully, “Your daughter is beautiful and virtuous, steadfast in nature and gifted in mind. Those who admire and seek her are as numerous as the fish crossing a river. Sadly, she and I have no fate together. Otherwise, I would have brought rich gifts and humbled myself to beg for her hand.” Su Zhi sighed. “My daughter is willful and headstrong. It is a great pity we cannot join our families.” The White-Robed Swordsman was silent for a moment, then raised his tea in a gesture of respect. “I’ve heard you’re to be married. Is it to a daughter of the Zhu family?” asked Su Zhi. The White-Robed Swordsman hesitated. “That is a matter for my elders. It is not for me to speak of.” Su Zhi thought for a moment, still holding on to a sliver of hope, and asked, “Then my nephew's reason for coming this time is…” The Su family of Shenyu Manor and the Yun family of White Cloud Manor had long been on friendly terms. Su Zhi’s daughter and Yun Ao had even played together as children, and Su Zhi was quite fond of him. If by some stroke of great fortune Yun Ao truly had his eye on Fifth Lady Su Xi, it would be an unexpected blessing. Unfortunately, life rarely goes as one wishes. The fine son-in-law in Su Zhi’s eyes had not come for Su Xi at all. The White-Robed Swordsman hesitated before saying, “I’m also about to be married. I just wanted to see… if Lady Wan is here… and if I might see her, even for a moment…” His hopes dashed, Su Zhi shook his head. “The Ninth Lady isn’t here. She’s been traveling the world for more than two years. Besides, she was only raised in my household. She’s not my own daughter. You know I have no say over her.” The White-Robed Swordsman’s expression dimmed with sorrow. He nodded slightly, then again, and again, unable to find any words. After a long pause, he suddenly felt the urge to leave. “Then… I’ll take my leave.” Su Zhi stopped him. “I hear you brought a companion?” But the White-Robed Swordsman’s mind was no longer on the conversation. He answered briefly, “His name is Liu Xiaolou. We’re not close. He’s a rogue cultivator from Wulong Mountain. We only met on the road. I imagine he heard about Uncle’s son-in-law search and came to try his luck.” Su Zhi frowned. “Wulong Mountain?” The White-Robed Swordsman gave a faint smile. “I’ve heard he’s the head of the Sanxuan Sect. For some reason, even when the Li family of Great Wood Mountain was marrying off a daughter, they sent him an invitation.”