Li Yujiao launched herself upward, grasping one person in each hand, leaping into the vast expanse of white snow. Her eyes wide, she arrived at the spot where Li Muzhan and Monk Xinjue had stood moments before.
The area was already buried under snowdrifts, forming a small mound, and the two figures were nowhere in sight.
Li Yujiao shouted, "Senior Brother Zhanran! Senior Brother Zhanran!"
The rumbling avalanche continued to roll down, and her voice sliced clearly through the roar, echoing across the heavens and earth, yet no answering echo returned; only the thunderous noise persisted, the snowslide unabated.
Li Yujiao began to panic and called out again frantically.
"Miss, quickly, take cover!" a middle-aged woman yelled.
Li Yujiao sprang into the air just as a massive wave of snow swept past her feet, grazing her by a hair's breadth and missing her by millimeters, startling the two women into cold sweats.
Such immense snow, possessing overwhelming momentum; while the individual flakes floated lightly, together they exerted unbearable weight, ensuring certain death for anyone caught beneath. No matter how profound one's internal energy, before such a natural catastrophe, one was as insignificant as an ant, left entirely to fate, powerless to resist.
"Miss, Miss, let's leave this place!" one of the women pleaded.
The two of them together were no match for Li Yujiao and couldn't possibly restrain her, so they could only beg.
Li Yujiao shook her head, sweeping her wide, staring eyes back and forth, calling out repeatedly, but across the snow-covered mountainside, only her voice traveled, with no response returning.
At the mountaintop, more than a dozen young men and women opened their eyes. Each one was deathly pale, their expressions withered, as if recovering from a serious illness.
They never anticipated that merely watching the excitement would bring such unwarranted disaster; first injured by the piercing shriek, and then struck by an avalanche—tragedy struck from both heaven and man simultaneously. Seeing the sheer power of the snowslide, they lacked the courage to descend. Despite their martial arts prowess, their legs trembled; before the might of heaven, the individual was utterly minuscule.
Listening to Li Yujiao's repeated calls, the group began to murmur amongst themselves.
"Senior Brother Zhanran? Could he be Zhanran, the Twin Sword Monk of the Canghai Sword Sect?" one young man inquired.
Yang Zhiyuan, his face ashen, nodded slowly. "It must be him. To produce such a sound, he cannot be an unknown figure... he is likely the Twin Sword Monk Zhanran."
"Then who was the other person?" someone asked.
"I believe I heard Master Zhanran mention Master Xinjue just now?" a young girl whispered quietly. Noticing everyone looking at her, she quickly lowered her head, her cheeks flushing deeply.
A young man rubbed his nose, pondering for a moment, then slapped his forehead. "I remember now... it must be Master Xinjue. Could it be Monk Xinjue from Lantuo Temple?"
"Zhanran, Xinjue... Good heavens, both are figures of immense renown!" The portly young man shook his head in awe. "No wonder that single Buddhist invocation sounded so bizarre; it nearly knocked me out!"
Another youth, with sharp eyebrows and bright eyes, exclaimed in admiration, "Fame is indeed never built on falsehoods. Zhanran and Xinjue are both top-tier masters; one must concede!"
"Indeed, fame is never built on falsehoods!" Yang Zhiyuan agreed with a sigh.
…………………………………………………………
"Heh heh, a pity. They may be formidable," sneered a tall, thin young man with a long face, shaking his head, "but they are no match for fate! No matter how strong they are, facing an avalanche means losing their lives. This is perhaps heaven being jealous of talent, haha..."
The others met his gaze with cold eyes, glancing at him dismissively before shaking their heads in silence.
Seeing their reaction, the thin-faced youth let out a cold laugh. "Why look at me like that? Aren't you secretly pleased? With these two mountains removed, we no longer have to live beneath their shadow. It's much more comfortable down here! The air atop the summit is far superior!"
This remark, laden with double meaning, was understood by everyone, who merely shook their heads.
Yang Zhiyuan sighed. "Brother Zhuge, that line of thinking is flawed. To stand atop the summit, one must rely on one's own genuine skill. Envy and malice are beneath a gentleman!"
"Heh heh, Brother Yang, why feign the virtue of a gentleman?" The thin-faced youth shook his head dismissively.
Yang Zhiyuan smiled. "Brother Zhuge, living with that mindset must be exhausting. If Masters Zhanran and Xinjue are gone, so are Brothers Nie and Murong, and even more formidable is Fairy Leng Lian. Do you truly expect misfortune to befall them all? That is impossible! With your current temperament, Brother Zhuge, you'll be stuck at the base of the mountain your entire life!"
The thin-faced youth gave a cold laugh and shook his head. "We speak different languages. Forget it, I won't say another word!"
Yang Zhiyuan smiled, looked down, and hearing Li Yujiao's continuous cries of "Senior Brother Zhanran," his heart softened slightly. He looked around at the others. "Everyone, perhaps we should go down and help search as well."
"Agreed, let's help search," the others responded in unison.
Even the thin-faced youth joined in. The group used their lightness skill to glide down. By this time, the avalanche had stopped, and the entire mountain presented a dramatically altered landscape. Snow had piled up halfway up the slope, making it appear as if the summit had been neatly planed off by half, drastically changing the appearance of everything around them.
Li Yujiao skimmed over the snow like a wisp of smoke. The others glanced at the thin-faced youth, then shook their heads. Judging by Li Yujiao's lightness skill, she was clearly a top master, making defeating her nearly impossible.
Seeing them descend, Li Yujiao flew towards them and called out loudly, "Thank you all for your help. Let's spread out evenly, pushing downward like a fishing net, ensuring not a single spot is missed!"
Her eyes flashed brilliantly, like cold stars, her gaze seemingly physical, piercing directly into their hearts. They felt a sudden chill, unable to summon any thought of resistance. Li Yujiao was surging with intense emotion, her aura blazing, surrounded by an extremely sharp, icy atmosphere. Though her words were polite, if any one of them dared voice an objection, they would surely face her wrath. These people were smart enough to perceive the ferocity raging within her and reluctantly suppressed any disagreement, knowing that incurring her anger would lead to trouble.
"Very well, Miss Li, command us as you wish!" Yang Zhiyuan agreed with a smile.
…………………………………………………………
Li Yujiao took a deep breath, nodded, and forced out a slight smile before turning and waving her hand. "We start from here, and move downward."
Yang Zhiyuan nodded, turned, and instructed, "Let's go, follow Miss Li downwards. Saving a life surpasses building a seven-story pagoda; everyone be mindful!"
"Right!" The others nodded in agreement. Finding the descent path, saving lives was paramount; there was no time to argue over minor details.
Li Yujiao led the way, with the others following closely in a single line, moving downward like a trip-cord, feeling the ground carefully and listening intently. After traversing perhaps twenty meters, they paused. It was fortunate they all possessed lightness skill, for moving across the snow—sometimes hard, sometimes soft—was incredibly arduous. Even so, covering just twenty meters left them feeling drained.
Li Yujiao turned to scan the group, her eyes sharp as lightning.
The others quickly rallied their spirits and continued downward, though hope was fading in their hearts. After this much time, even with the longest internal circulation, anyone trapped would have suffocated long ago. Li Yujiao remained anxious, calling out continuously.
With a dull thud—"Peng!"—a small explosion of snow dust erupted from the foot of the mountain.
Li Yujiao shrieked, "Senior Brother Zhanran!"
She floated over like a wisp of smoke, arriving at the base of the slope in an instant, lunging toward the burst of snow. As the snow dust drifted down, Li Muzhan, clad in his jade-colored monk's robes, was revealed.
Li Yujiao grabbed Li Muzhan's arm, examining him from head to toe. "Senior Brother Zhanran! You... are you alright?"
Li Muzhan smiled, shaking his head. "I am fine."
Li Yujiao let out a long breath. Li Muzhan indeed seemed unharmed; his complexion was ruddy, his eyes bright, showing no sign of injury whatsoever.
Li Muzhan turned and saw the line of people arranged on the slope over there.
"Who are these...?" He looked towards Li Yujiao.
Li Yujiao smiled. "They are helping me search for you, Senior Brother!"
Li Muzhan looked over at the group from a distance, brought his palms together in a gesture of respect, and called out clearly, "Many thanks to all of you!"
His voice carried clearly across the hundred zhang separating them, reaching every ear. They all returned the salute, not daring to show arrogance, for escaping the avalanche demonstrated skill that was truly staggering.
Li Muzhan turned and looked around, frowning. "What about Master Xinjue?"
Li Yujiao shook her head. "I don't know. He might already be dead, crushed beneath the snow. He didn't have your abilities, Senior Brother!"
Li Muzhan frowned and fell into thought. After their intense battle, a mutual respect had formed between them. He felt it would be a profound waste if Xinjue died like this, so he shook his head, determined to save him.
He sat down cross-legged on the snow, formed the Prithvi Mudra (Earth Seal), and closed his eyes, perfectly still.
……………………………………………………………………
Moments later, he leaped up, landing directly over ten zhang away. His palms transformed into sixteen layers of shadow-like palm prints, which he slammed down forcefully onto the snow.
"Bo!" The sound resembled a small pebble dropped into a deep well.
Instantly, snow dust flew up, like water exploding from the action of dynamite; the surface erupted, and Li Muzhan dove into the swirling white snow, emerging moments later.
When he reappeared, he was holding a person wrapped entirely in white snow—the yellow robes marked him as Monk Xinjue.
Li Muzhan gently placed Monk Xinjue on the ground, adjusted his stiff legs to force him into a cross-legged posture, and then sat down behind him, pressing both palms against Xinjue’s back, remaining motionless.
In a short while, wisps of white mist began to rise from Monk Xinjue, and the snow surrounding him slowly melted, forming a puddle on the ground, melting the surrounding snow at an increasing rate. Soon, both Li Muzhan and Xinjue had sunk half a foot into the slush.
Li Yujiao watched, shaking her head repeatedly. This Senior Brother Zhanran truly possessed a compassionate heart, expending such effort to save his opponent—one of those Lantuo Temple brutes; fewer of them in the world would be better!
Yang Zhiyuan and the others had approached and now watched the strange phenomenon in silent concentration.
Monk Xinjue’s complexion gradually regained color, his breathing slowly returned, and white mist billowed from his head. His yellow robes began to swell slightly, like an inflated ball.
White mist rose from Li Muzhan's head as well, and a rolling heat radiated from his body. The snow beneath them melted even faster, and in moments, they sank another half foot. They stopped sinking when the slush reached their waists.
The white mist rising from Li Muzhan’s head formed a cloud that hovered densely above his Baihui acupoint, like an umbrella. When he finally withdrew his palms, the cloud swiftly contracted and vanished, drawn into the Baihui point.
The onlookers were astonished by this bizarre spectacle, wondering what kind of cultivation method this was—it was truly miraculous.
Li Muzhan slowly stood up and smiled. "Master Xinjue, how do you feel?"
Monk Xinjue opened his eyes, brought his hands together, and sighed. "Alas... the Buddha does not wish to accept this humble monk yet; I have returned... Thank you, Master Zhanran!"
Li Muzhan shook his head. "If I were in your position, I would do the same. There is no need for thanks."
Monk Xinjue smiled at him in understanding, nodded, and brought his palms together. "Since this is the case, today's contest ends here. We shall have another match another day. I bid you farewell!" He bowed to the surrounding crowd with clasped hands and then turned, gliding away lightly. His yellow robes floated as if he walked upon the wind, and in the blink of an eye, he reached the mountaintop and vanished from sight.
Li Yujiao pursed her lips. "Hmph, what a stinking monk!"
Seeing Li Muzhan looking at her, she quickly smiled. "Senior Brother Zhanran, I wasn't cursing you!"
Li Muzhan shook his head and laughed gently. "A stinking monk is a stinking monk. Let's go back." He offered a respectful bow to the onlookers and then also floated away, his jade-colored robes billowing gently.