Chapter 112: Wall-Facing Cliff, Phoenix Mountain

Xu Hua let out a muffled groan as the staff struck him.

The force behind Huicong’s disciplinary blow was immense. Zhou Yi, held in Xu Hua’s arms, felt the impact shudder through them; it was far worse for Xu Hua, who bore the full brunt of the strike.

"Do not... retaliate," Xu Hua murmured before his vision darkened and he lost consciousness.

Closest to him, Zhou Yi caught him immediately. "Wake up, you bald monk!"

As the senior disciple of Zen Master Huiming, Xu Hua held a position of extreme prestige at Mount Wutai. Seeing him faint caused an immediate uproar among the monks. Huiming snatched Xu Hua from Zhou Yi’s arms and hurried back to his quarters to tend to his wounds. It was clear that Huiming cared deeply for Xu Hua, who, at less than thirty years of age, had already reached the Second Level of Yin-Yang—he was the future hope of Mount Wutai.

Huicong, realizing that his impulsive strike had caused a grave disaster, felt a stifling frustration and vented his anger on Zhou Yi.

"Lock him away on the Wall-Facing Cliff," Huiming commanded. Two novice monks stepped forward to escort Zhou Yi away.

Zhou Yi glanced at the novices, his face cold. "Don’t touch me. Lead the way."

Knowing that Zhou Yi was not a man to be trifled with, the novices dared not resist and led him toward the cliff.

As the name implied, the Wall-Facing Cliff was where monks of Mount Wutai were sent to reflect on their transgressions. Located on the back of the mountain, it consisted of a small platform carved into the side of a sheer precipice, just large enough for one person to sit cross-legged.

The punished monk would sit facing the wall, with a ten-thousand-foot drop behind them. The cliff was battered by fierce winds all year round, forcing the occupant to endure the bone-chilling agony of the gales day and night. The common belief that wall-facing penance meant sitting quietly before a wall was a misconception; here, it was a test of endurance.

Upon reaching the cliff, Zhou Yi looked down. His vision could only penetrate a dozen yards through the thick, swirling mist. The howling of the wind rang in his ears, and he pulled his thin garment tighter around himself.

"Little monk, I am not a monk of Mount Wutai. Why are you locking me up here?" Zhou Yi asked, wanting no part of these harsh conditions.

The novice only replied, "My task is merely to ensure you do not wander off. I know nothing of other matters," before falling silent.

Zhou Yi sighed. He could easily knock these novices out and escape, but he had given his word to Xu Hua that he would see this matter through to the end. Keeping his promises was a principle he lived by.

He climbed onto the platform and sat facing outward, refusing to face the wall—he believed he had done nothing wrong and thus had no need for such penance.

Within ten minutes, however, he regretted his defiance. The wind lashed at his face like a knife. If he opened his mouth, he was filled with cold air; if he closed it, he could not breathe through his nose. He had no choice but to turn and face the stone wall. The wind crept into his collar, sending shivers through him. Since he didn't know how long he would be trapped here, he decided to spend the time cultivating his strength.

Zhou Yi estimated that since his meridians had expanded, his reserve of internal energy was twice that of an ordinary person. His current cultivation was comparable to the pale purple energy of the First Level of Yin-Yang; he could hold his own in a fight, but he stood no chance against a cultivator at the Second Level.

His reaction speed was currently his bottleneck. Having survived the heavenly tribulation, he knew the benefits of the purple energy—the first being the ability to utilize the Nine Syllables of the Taoist tradition. He could use them now, but with blue energy, the power was diminished and the toll on his body was too great, making the technique almost useless.

At night, a novice and Xiao Cui brought him food. Seeing him in deep meditation, they left the meal to the side and departed. The next day, Xiao Cui returned to find the previous day’s food gone. Assuming he had eaten, she left the new meal and returned to her duties.

By the second day, Xiao Cui felt something was wrong. If Zhou Yi had eaten, the bowls and dishes should have been left behind for her to collect. Instead, the dishes had vanished along with the food.

She left the meal and summoned Fu Gege to watch with her. Before long, a violent gust of wind swept the food off the platform and into the abyss below. They rushed to the edge and listened, but even after several minutes, there was no sound of shattering porcelain.

"Go back and prepare a fresh portion for the Young Master. I will stay here and keep him company for a while," Fu Gege instructed.

Xiao Cui left, and Fu Gege sat nearby, resting her chin on her hands as she watched Zhou Yi. She couldn't help but smile, finding contentment simply in his presence.

Meanwhile, Baozi and Mu Chen were in their own predicament.

Back at the restaurant in the small town, they had been cornered by the Miao warriors. Hearing the shrill whistle of the wind, they knew something was wrong and tried to rush back to their room, only to see Xu Hua carrying Zhou Yi away to the south. Realizing they couldn't catch up, they fled. The four Miao warriors were slower than them, and the pair managed to escape.

As they fled, they had grabbed two bottles of liquor and some dried meat from the restaurant. They ran all the way to Phoenix Mountain, where Zhou Yi and Baozi had once dealt with a flying corpse. Without a second thought, Baozi led Mu Chen into the same mountain cave to hide.

They lived quite comfortably for a while, drinking and eating. But after a deep sleep, they awoke to find the Miao warriors had sealed the cave entrance, turning their hiding spot into a trap.

"Those Miao bastards! They’re trying to starve us to death in here!" Baozi grumbled, taking a swig of liquor.

"It’s your fault for hiding here without checking if there was another exit," Mu Chen complained. "Now we’re trapped. What do we do?"

"I told you I’d only been here once! How was I to know it was a dead end? Besides, you agreed to come in and rest!" Baozi sighed and took another large gulp. "Damn, this is foul. I miss the sorghum wine from Old Zhao’s village. This bottled swill is half water. When I get out of here, I’m going to smash that restaurant to pieces."

As he moved to toss the bottle, Mu Chen caught his hand. "Don't! If you throw it away, what are we supposed to live on? That’s the last of it."

Mu Chen took a swallow himself, but as he swallowed, both he and Baozi began to cough violently. It wasn't the liquor—the Miao warriors outside had begun to burn brush at the entrance, filling the cave with thick, suffocating smoke.