314 Journey to the Desert

[POV: Jue Bu]

The streets of the desert city were alive with noise from hawkers shouting their wares, children chasing each other through the dust, and guards in bronze lamellar armor pacing on patrol. Yet all of it dimmed beneath the sound of a pipa being plucked with gentle fingers.

A beautiful woman sat on a low stool just beyond the gates of a luxurious manor, her long hair cascading down her shoulders, her legs bare beneath the slit of her robe, a teasing glimpse of pale skin contrasting against the sand-baked stone. Her neckline dipped low, exposing the faint curve of her chest. She sang as she played, voice laced with a husky timbre that pulled ears and hearts alike toward her:

"A demon came with a crooked tongue, Provoked kingdoms, left halls undone. With every word, he stripped their pride, Their crowns fell low, their shame could not hide. He laughed, he mocked, a villain bold, Yet every tale of him is told. Beware his eyes, his smirk, his flame, For countless lords still curse his name."

The crowd chuckled, leaning closer, enthralled by the dangerous charm of the song.

The gates of the manor creaked open. A portly lord, robed in silk and dripping in jewels, stepped out with his retinue of armored guards. His voice cut through the woman's melody like a dull blade.

"A fine singer," he said, his gaze lingering too long on her exposed skin. "And a beautiful maiden at that."

The woman lowered her instrument, bowing her head just slightly, her smile both polite and distant. "Thank you for your praise, my lord."

The lord waved a jeweled hand, grinning through crooked teeth. "But for such a dreadful song? Hmph! Why sing of demons and humiliation when you could sing something cheerful? Sing me something more amusing."

"I can't," the woman answered simply, her fingers idly plucking a final note before resting them atop the strings.

"Oh, please, woman…" The lord stepped forward, his entourage laughing at his bravado. "The reason you performed in front of my gates was to please me, was it not? How much do you want? A pouch of gold? A house? You are pleasing enough to the eyes, so you pass!"

The crowd that had gathered began to murmur. Many had come for the tale of the pipa, but faced with the lord's blustering, they slowly dispersed. The woman's mood soured, her lips tightening as she watched her audience trickle away.

The lord grew impatient, his voice sharpening like a whip. "Sing something to cheer me, woman."

"I can't."

The retinue shifted uneasily, their hands on their weapons.

The lord's brows furrowed, his indulgent smile gone. "And why is that? Don't you seek my favor?"

The woman leaned back, plucking a low, mocking note, and let her smile blossom again. This one was colder, sharper, and laced with derision.

"You don't deserve it."

The words hung in the air like a guillotine.

Gasps ran through the guards. The lord's face twisted in rage, his fat cheeks flushing red. "You dare—!"

But before his words could continue, the crowd gasped again, this time louder and fearful. For the beautiful woman shimmered, her guise collapsing like a shed skin. In her place stood a man with a handsome visage, sharp eyes glinting with mischief, and a faint smirk curving his lips. His form radiated power, his immortal aura descending like the judgment of the heavens themselves.

The sand quivered. The air trembled.

The lord and his retinue, pitiful in their meager Third and Seventh Realm cultivations, collapsed to their knees under the suffocating pressure. Their bodies could not move, their qi suppressed entirely as though the world itself had turned against them.

And Jue Bu stood there, no longer disguised!

Jue Bu did not withdraw his pipa. Instead, he plucked its strings with languid precision, every note resonating through the dusty street like judgment disguised as melody. His voice carried with it a strange cadence, both mocking and reverent, as he sang.

"The Unholy One broke the Summit high, Split their heavens, mocked their sky. "Do better," he warned, with fire bright, "Or my shadow comes in endless night." He shattered crowns, he crushed the vain, And left the mighty to taste their shame. Repent, repent, before it's late, The Unholy One decides your fate."

The retinue that remained dared not breathe too loud. The sound was haunting, and each pluck of the string pressed on their hearts like the tolling of a divine bell. Then Jue Bu snapped the flow, his fingers dragging across the strings, producing a harsh, discordant note that split the air. The sound was ugly, jarring, the opposite of his earlier seductive playing. He leaned forward, lips twisting into a smile that did not reach his eyes.

"You know the story," Jue Bu said, voice low but sharp. "Those who heard Da Wei's words spread them far and wide. Those who heard his ideals ought to repent." His eyes gleamed, pinning the lord in place like a pinned insect. "Tell me… are you repentant?"

The portly lord's face drained of color. Sweat poured down his cheeks as his knees trembled. His cultivation, meager as it was, surged against the suffocating weight of Jue Bu's immortal aura. By sheer will and desperation, the man broke free from its grip.

He turned, stumbling away, gasping, scrambling down the street like a cornered rat.

But he did not get far, for the Immortal was merely toying with him.

With every staggered step, his back hunched. His flesh sagged. His hair grayed. The retinue stared in silent horror as their master aged in the span of breaths. One heartbeat, he was forty, the next he was eighty. Then his body wasted further, skin shrinking around brittle bones.

At last, he collapsed to his knees, a husk of a man, eyes dull and empty. The light fled them completely. His body crumbled into dust, leaving only tattered silks behind.

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Jue Bu let the last note fade into silence before he spoke, his words cold and certain.

"Spread the word. Da Wei's here, and he will punish anyone who disobeys."

The aura vanished, and the world felt lighter again. That was enough to send the remaining servants scattering in blind terror, their screams echoing in the alleys as they fled.

Jue Bu sighed, loosening his shoulders. He strummed a playful arpeggio. With a thought, he activated his Immortal Art: Heaven and Earth, reversing the flow of his years. His current features smoothed away, leaving behind a youthful face that bore more mischief than divinity. His scholar's robes vanished in favor of simple traveling clothes.

He didn't regret it. That lord deserved death. The man had stiffed laborers of their rightful pay, forced peasants to sell kidneys, lungs, and even their eyes to settle debts, and orchestrated blood pits where the desperate killed each other for coin. It wasn't justice that pushed Jue Bu. Instead, it was the memory of Da Wei's sermon at the Summit.

For all of Jue Bu's flaws, he had been there when Da Wei's voice thundered against heaven and man alike. He had listened. He had believed. Kind of… Especially when it suited him. Da Wei's words were many things, but the truth that burned within them had been simple: do better, or be broken.

Jue Bu chuckled under his breath, rubbing his jaw. "Hah… an oversimplification, but it works."

His small floating boat awaited him beyond the gates. He rose into the air, feeding it qi, the runes across its frame glowing faintly. A twist of will, and the world bent.

With a lurch, the vessel entered warp, streaking across the barren skies.

Weeks passed in flickering days of flight and nights of strange dreams. He crossed plains, mountains, and oases until finally, as the warp disengaged, his eyes beheld the endless expanse of shifting sands.

The Great Desert.

Jue Bu drifted lazily across the skies on his small floating boat, chewing on a dried fruit he had bought from a roadside vendor the other day. He reached into his pocket dimension and drew out a wide scroll. It was a map of the Hollowed World. With a practiced flick, he unfurled it and studied the markings inked by both New Willow cartographers and his own additions.

"Mm… nearest city should be half a day's flight east," he muttered to himself, running a finger across the dunes. His eyes twinkled with mischief. "Plenty of ears there, and ears mean stories, and stories mean faith. Da Wei, you owe me a drink for this someday."

He chuckled to himself, strumming his pipa idly.

Ever since beginning this journey, Jue Bu had made a habit of visiting every city, town, and nameless hamlet he could find. He would play, sing, and spin tales of Da Wei from his feats, his sermons, and his ridiculous challenges against heaven and men alike. He told them like ballads, sharp and colorful, as if Da Wei were half-immortal hero and half-trickster deity. And people listened.

There were all kinds of faith. Some born of doctrine, some born of blood and sword. But there was also faith born from stories. Stories spread faster than armies, seeped deeper than steel. And with enough tongues whispering his name, Da Wei's own path of immortality might find new light.

Jue Bu leaned back on his boat's railing, grinning. "Not that it takes me long. A song or two, a few gasps and wide-eyed mortals, then off I go. Doesn't even hurt my mission. Efficient, eh?"

He tapped the strings of his pipa, letting a flirtatious tune ring into the desert winds. "Besides… It's a bonus if I get to, ahem, enjoy the company of a beauty or two. Just a smile, a tease. Please don't tell anyone, alright? Let's keep that between us." He winked to no one in particular, laughing at his own antics.

Yet beneath the laughter, there was calculation. His songs and sudden "appearances" as Da Wei were not merely for faith. They were also weapons of confusion. If rumors of Da Wei spread across multiple provinces, across multiple cities, the Heavenly Temple would be left chasing shadows. Their net would scatter, their attention diverted.

It was, in its own strange way, Jue Bu's contribution to lighten the burden Da Wei carried.

Jue Bu was not ignorant. He had heard enough from the Night Blades, from whispers carried through spirit jade slips. Da Wei was embroiled in a war within the Empire's borders, fighting battles that were far beyond the grasp of mortals. If his own borrowed body could serve as a shadow, a decoy, then so be it.

"Funny how life can have the strangest twists…"

Jue Bu looked at his hands for a moment, flexing them. This body was not fully his. It had been owned by Da Wei once. A chilling thought for most, but Jue Bu felt… flattered. Though unofficial, he was the closest thing to a shadow double for someone like Da Wei.

Even if the danger might be too much for him alone, he believed it was worth it.

Besides, he had confidence. His Immortal Art: Reversal of Heaven and Earth was a peerless technique. He could shift his age, alter his features, mask his aura so perfectly that even Ascended Souls would be hard-pressed to discern him. He was no fool. He knew he could not contend against the entire Heavenly Temple with their deep roots in the Hollowed World. That was suicide. But so long as he was careful, clever, and quick on his feet, he could dance around them.

The horizon shifted. At last, a smudge of stone and timber appeared at the edge of the desert. A small city, walls humble but strong enough to withstand raiders. Smoke rose from hearthfires, and banners fluttered lazily in the dry wind.

Jue Bu smiled, lowering his boat to land beyond the city gates. He changed his robes, adjusted his age to look like a roguish traveling scholar with a charming smile, and slung the pipa over his shoulder.

By the time he stepped into the market square, people had already gathered, curious at the sound of his tuning strings. Children clung to their mothers, merchants paused mid-haggle, and guards leaned on their spears.

Jue Bu took center stage, bowed with exaggerated flourish, and began to sing:

"Upon the black fortress stood the Yama King, With ten thousand devils, their blades did ring. But Da Wei laughed, a madman's grin, "Explode your walls? Don't mind if I sin!" The heavens trembled, the fortress shook, One palm strike—gone! No stone, no nook! The Yama King fell, his crown undone, And Da Wei walked off, whistling, done."

The crowd gasped, some laughed in disbelief, and others whispered to one another with awe.

Jue Bu strummed a final note, winking slyly. "Truly ridiculous, no? But that's Da Wei for you. A man who makes the impossible look like a child's prank."

Everything had gone perfectly.

Jue Bu's fingers danced across the strings of his pipa, voice weaving stories of Da Wei that mixed valor with madness, philosophy with sheer audacity. The small city square erupted with laughter, awe, and cheers at every refrain. Children clapped, old men stroked their beards thoughtfully, and even the city guards had lowered their spears to listen.

When he finally struck the last note and bowed, the crowd applauded him as though he were a legendary immortal minstrel rather than a rogue cultivator with a knack for trouble.

"Thank you, thank you, you're too kind," Jue Bu grinned, exaggerating his humility before slipping into the side streets. He returned to where his small flying vessel was docked beyond the city's walls. With a flex of qi, he activated its light array and let it hover above the sands.

A nearby guard, recognizing him from earlier, approached with a wary smile.

"Going east, are you, minstrel?" the man asked.

Jue Bu tilted his head. "East, west, north… I'm chasing the wind, friend. Tell me, which direction leads to the Promised Dunes?"

The guard's face immediately darkened. "The Dunes? You ought not to go there. They've been declared enemies of the tribes. Not safe. The sandfolk don't take kindly to strangers traveling in their direction anymore. Best avoid it, sir."

Jue Bu scratched his chin, eyes narrowing. "Declared enemies, hm? That makes it sound even more interesting." He turned as if to mount the vessel. "Well, thanks for the warning, but I like dangerous destinations."

He was about to ascend when a voice rang behind him.

"Wait."

Jue Bu paused, glancing back. Three figures stood at the edge of the city road, their robes marked with strange geometric embroidery, their faces hidden by cowls. Their movements were too smooth and deliberate to be common wanderers.

The one in the center by voice and build and seemingly a woman spoke first. "Are you the Wandering Bard?"

Jue Bu blinked. A grin tugged at the corners of his lips. 'Wandering Bard? I already have a name? Hah~! How quaint. My deeds aren't even that grand yet. Word travels faster than sandstorms in this world, it seems.'

He rested his pipa against his shoulder and smirked. "And what if I'm not? What then?"

The woman stepped closer, lifting her chin so that the shadow of her cowl barely revealed a pale jawline. Her voice carried a strange fervor, hushed yet insistent.

"Then answer me this… Have you heard the word of our lord and savior, Da Wei?"

At that moment, thunder rumbled overhead. Dark clouds rolled across the desert sky, and rain began to fall upon the sands.

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