Behind the mountain gate of Furnace-Listening Pavilion was a long bluestone walkway.
On both sides of the walkway stood twelve cast-iron statues.
Each statue held a replica of a weapon in its hands.
Saber, spear, sword, halberd, axe, battleaxe, hook, trident, whip, mace, hammer, and heavy lance.
Qi Tianchen walked ahead, offering a brief introduction each time they passed a statue.
His tone was unhurried—sounding both like a host introducing his home to a guest and like someone reminiscing over a long, proud history.
Chen Zui followed behind him, listening as he walked and nodding occasionally in response. His gaze, however, was involuntarily drawn to the soaring flames at the end of the walkway.
At the end of the walkway lay a spacious plaza.
In the center of the plaza stood a three-legged bronze tripod. Raging flames burned within it, glowing a pale blue-white—clearly no ordinary fire fueled by firewood.
Surrounding the plaza were dozens of casting furnaces of various sizes, with disciples busily at work before each one.
The clanging of hammers striking anvils rose and fell continuously, weaving into a dense, rhythmic symphony over the plaza.
“This plaza is Furnace-Listening Pavilion's Casting Terrace.”
Qi Tianchen stopped before the bronze tripod and turned to face Chen Zui, a touch of pride in his voice.
“Thirty percent of all famed weapons in the martial world came from this very plaza.”
He reached out and pointed toward the largest casting furnace situated deepest within the plaza.
That furnace was nearly twice the size of the others. Its bronze body glowed red with heat, and the flames spurting from its mouth were not pale blue-white, but an almost transparent pale gold.
“That one is this old man's furnace.”
Qi Tianchen withdrew his gaze and continued leading Chen Zui forward.
He then led Chen Zui through a quiet corridor to a small tearoom.
The tearoom was furnished with utmost simplicity: just two prayer mats and a low table.
On the low table rested a clay teapot and two coarse porcelain teacups.
The four walls were completely bare of decoration.
“Young Hero Chen, this old man has something to ask you.”
Chen Zui met his gaze and nodded slightly. “Senior, please ask.”
Yet Qi Tianchen did not speak right away.
He fell silent for a few breaths as if weighing his words before speaking slowly.
“Do you know a woman named Lin Jianxi?”
Chen Zui's brow twitched slightly.
“I wouldn't say I know her,” Chen Zui answered truthfully. “We've only met once.”
Qi Tianchen looked at him deeply.
“Young Hero Chen.”
He set down his teacup and stared directly at Chen Zui.
“Do you know on whose invitation that old Daoist Ling Xiaozi descended the mountain?”
“Lin Jianxi?” Chen Zui countered.
“Precisely.”
Qi Tianchen nodded.
“Wen Zhuo's closed-door disciple.
That girl sent a letter to Ling Xiaozi, and upon reading it, he came down from Mount Longhu without a second word.
As you know, Ling Xiaozi is an Earthly Immortal and the Heavenly Master of the contemporary Daoist ancestral sanctuary.
Something capable of moving him could never be a small matter.”
Chen Zui raised his teacup and took a sip, making no comment.
Qi Tianchen wasn't in a rush either, continuing on his own.
“This old man and Ling Xiaozi went to the capital, and inside the Hall of Mental Cultivation, we found a demon.”
Chen Zui's motion of setting down his teacup paused slightly, but he returned to normal almost immediately.
Qi Tianchen caught this subtle reaction.
He nodded inwardly.
Had anyone else heard the word “demon,” even if they weren't pale with fright, they would at least be visibly shocked.
Yet this young man before him merely paused for half a beat before regaining his composure.
Such composure was truly beyond what ordinary people possessed.
“That demon entrenched itself in His Majesty's bedchamber, coexisting with him day and night.”
Qi Tianchen's voice darkened.
“Using the Demon Race's methods of longevity as bait, it enticed His Majesty into making a deal.
As for the contents of the transaction, even this old man does not know.
However, you can probably guess.
In recent years, His Majesty has suppressed the martial world, weakened Confucianism, and allowed the succession struggle to grow increasingly intense.
Behind each and every one of these matters lies the shadow of that demon.”
“Fortunately, Ling Xiaozi and I joined forces and managed to suppress that creature at last.”
Qi Tianchen paused here, a look of gravity flashing across his eyes.
“Young Hero Chen, do you know what Ling Xiaozi said inside the Hall of Mental Cultivation?”
Chen Zui shook his head.
Qi Tianchen set his teacup back on the low table, the bottom making a light tap against the wood.
“He said that as the sixty-third generation Heavenly Master of Mount Longhu and the living patriarch of the Daoist Order,
having presided over Mount Longhu for over forty years, he never once sensed that a demon was hidden in the depths of the imperial palace.
Yet Miss Lin—or perhaps her master, Wen Zhuo—
a mere young woman and a mere scholar—
how could they have known about the existence of this demon?”
Silence fell over the tearoom.
Chen Zui looked down at the amber tea in his cup. After remaining silent for a good while, he spoke slowly.
“Is Senior implying that the demon might be related to Wen Zhuo?”
“Hard to say.”
Qi Tianchen shook his head, his brow furrowed tightly.
“Though this old man was never close friends with Wen Zhuo, his deeds are known to everyone under Heaven.
Entering the court as a commoner to offer council, he devised thirty-six brilliant strategies in three years, turning the tide and saving Grand Zhao from the brink of collapse.
It is no exaggeration to say that such a person held the world in his heart.
By all logical reasoning, he shouldn't—and wouldn't—take such a massive risk to include a demon in his grand game.
Then again, no one has ever truly seen through Wen Zhuo's moves.
No one could decipher them while he was alive, and even less so now that he is dead.”
Chen Zui nodded slightly without saying much.
When he heard Qi Tianchen mention Lin Jianxi's name, the words Gu Yiyou had spoken to him involuntarily surfaced in his mind.
Senior Gu had said that the female scholar possessed a special ability.
In a sense, that ability could perhaps be called “prophecy.”
However, Chen Zui did not wish to share this with Qi Tianchen.
It was not out of distrust, but because saying it out loud sounded far too absurd.
Even if Qi Tianchen believed it, what difference would it make?
It would merely give one more person sleepless nights.
“Senior.”
Chen Zui raised his head to meet Qi Tianchen's gaze, his expression calm.
“This junior indeed only met Lin Jianxi once.
We merely shared a brief conversation, so I do not know much about her.
Could Senior suspect that I have some connection to that demon?”
Qi Tianchen narrowed his eyes and scrutinized Chen Zui for a long moment.
Chen Zui returned his gaze calmly, his eyes clear as water without the slightest hint of avoidance.
What he said was not a lie.
He had indeed only met Lin Jianxi once and shared only a brief conversation.
As for what Gu Yiyou had told him regarding the ability of “prophecy,” that was merely Senior Gu's own assessment.
Qi Tianchen stared at him for a long time before suddenly bursting into hearty laughter.
The laughter echoed through the small tearoom.
“Hahaha, Young Hero Chen, you overthink things. If this old man truly suspected you were connected to that demon, I would never have invited you through our mountain gate.
By the way, since your spear is broken, why not follow me to the Arsenal Pavilion to select a new one?
Although our Furnace-Listening Pavilion's heritage of spear forging has dwindled significantly,
there are still dozens of fine spears in the pavilion for you to choose from.”
Hearing this, Chen Zui smiled faintly and set down his teacup.
“Senior, I want to choose a sword.”
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