Young Master Bai — Chapter 52
Chapter 52: Sword Immortal Bai
All under Heaven knew that Sword Immortal Bai secluded himself on the Great Snow Mountain. Yet not only mortals — even the yao who had lived there for a thousand years had no idea where this legendary figure truly resided. Sword Immortal Bai was like a riddle: no one knew where he had come from, nor what entanglement he had with the Yao King. Not a soul even knew his true name.
Sword Immortal Bai had appeared in the human world only twice. The first time, he slew the Yao King, ensuring the survival of humankind. The second was during the chaos in Chang’an, when he accepted Li Jiuzhou as his disciple.
People thought Li Wuming had been exiled before he bowed to the immortal as master, but in truth it was otherwise. Sword Immortal Bai had sought him out at the age of fifteen. Even the name Li Jiuzhou, later renowned across the land, was given to him by Sword Immortal Bai.
“Do you want to live?”
“Yes.”
“Call me Master.”
Before the ruined temple crowded with refugees, in just those three short exchanges, Li Wuming became Sword Immortal Bai’s sole disciple — and thus began his storm-tossed life.
That this master had taken him in so abruptly still struck Li Wuming as unbelievable when he looked back. At that time, countless youths were suffering in the war-torn world. Yet with a single glance, his master had chosen him out of the crowd. Sword Immortal Bai cultivated the emotionless path; he had no interest in the suffering of living beings. Not once in a thousand years of turmoil had he left seclusion — only this one time, when he traveled thousands of li to Chang’an, took on a disciple, and then did nothing else. It was as though he had come solely for Li Wuming.
In Li Wuming’s eyes, this master was equally mysterious. He could not tell what bond truly lay between them. But of one thing he was certain: Sword Immortal Bai was not the sort of man to take in a disciple out of idle pity. By accepting him, he had revealed a real need.
At present, Bai Yunce was nominally king of the Great Snow Mountain. Bai Chen still had to consult with him regarding the matter of Mountain God Luo. Seeing the three foxes in council, Li Wuming slipped away to seek out his master.
Though the world believed Sword Immortal Bai’s whereabouts unknowable, the truth was that he had only returned to his original place of meditation. West of the highest peak, past fields of snow lotus and across a frozen lake, stood the mountain’s tallest pine. Beneath that tree, amid a hundred li of snow, sat the man all the world could not find.
Sword Immortal Bai had never hidden from anyone. If he wished to cultivate in peace, no one had the power to disturb him. But once he entered deep meditation, he disregarded all external things. In time, snow would bury him completely. Other than his disciple, no one knew how to dig him out.
Since learning his arts, Li Wuming’s most practiced task had been clearing snow. He was just as deft now, dispersing the accumulated drifts with his sword qi. Under the great pine, the man in white robes and white hair sat cross-legged. His brows and features were like a frozen sculpture, without the least trace of emotion. Even when light reached him after so long, he did not react — merged utterly with Heaven and Earth, unwilling to open his eyes to any outside thing.
Even when his disciple arrived, Sword Immortal Bai did not so much as lift an eyebrow. Anyone else would have thought him a frozen corpse. But Li Wuming was used to it, and smiled cheerfully: “Master, I’ve rolled back again!”
His voice brought a flicker of warmth to the snowscape. The immortal who dwelt with wind and snow still could not be bothered to open his eyes, only cast out a jade vial on the breeze. “You reek of fox. Wash clean before speaking to me.”
Sword Immortal Bai was most skilled at dealing with the yao. The Heavenly Purifying Water he carried required only a single drop to dispel all scent from the body; even the sharpest-nosed yao in the world could not track him. As his disciple, Li Wuming was not allowed to carry any trace of foreign odors either. Yet today he merely weighed the vial in his hand, still smiling. “I’ll be beaten soon enough anyway, Master. I may as well wait till afterward to clean up.”
“If you know it, why seek a beating?”
Li Wuming had grown up amid Chang’an’s bustle, his human scent far heavier than that of his master. Sometimes he thought it a good thing, but more often it earned him correction by the sword. For Sword Immortal Bai, teaching meant thrashing his disciple. The more beatings the boy endured, the more he learned. Never once did he hold back his sword’s edge. If Li Wuming lived with one breath left, that counted as mercy.
“Because I trust Master won’t actually kill me.”
Having been beaten since childhood, Li Wuming had grown thick-skinned, and feared it no longer. Seeing his master ignore him, he went straight to the point.
“I noticed long ago that Bai Chen’s true form was smaller than other fox yao. At the time, I thought he was simply young. But after five hundred years of raising him, he still hadn’t changed. When I saw that the Yao King in your memories had the same form, I began to wonder.”
Still with eyes closed, Sword Immortal Bai made no reply. Emboldened, Li Wuming continued:
“The Hidden Wisdom Sect preserves a scroll from the tribes of Chang’an, depicting the Nine-tailed Fox as a beast of auspicious omen, untouched by lust. In the painting, the nine-tailed foxes are lithe and strong, their bodies closer to tigers and leopards than to ordinary foxes — completely unlike Bai Chen. And they bore only nine tails; before the Yao King appeared, there was no talk of eight-tailed or six-tailed foxes.”
Bai Chen seldom revealed his true form before others. The yao of the Great Snow Mountain likely had no idea that the Nine-tailed White Fox’s body was actually smaller than even a red fox’s. Only his nine tails, large and fluffy, could easily wrap him up and hide him within.
At first Li Wuming had thought nothing of it — until he realized that the Yao King in his master’s memories looked the same, the only difference being that the king had just one tail while Bai Chen had nine.
All of this led Li Wuming to a suspicion he could no longer suppress. “Master, the Bai family aren’t purebred Nine-tailed Foxes, are they?”
At these words, Sword Immortal Bai finally opened his eyes. They were the most merciless eyes beneath Heaven. Any beast meeting that gaze would collapse in fear. For as the sword was born for killing, the Sword Immortal was destined to be the highest of predators.
Yet there was one being who could meet that gaze without crumpling — Li Wuming alone, because they were of a kind.
This disciple was walking step by step down his master’s old road, and Sword Immortal Bai could not stop him. Coldly, he said: “Correct. Bai Wei was nothing more than a common snow fox. With such a bloodline, he might never have taken human form in his lifetime.”
For a thousand years, the Bai family had ruled as a high-born yao clan, and none had ever dared question their lineage. If these words spread, the Great Snow Mountain would erupt into chaos.
Yet within them lay a truth critical for Bai Chen. Li Wuming’s gaze deepened. Looking squarely at his master, he declared, “Those nine tails and that great yao power — you gave them to him.”
Sword Immortal Bai did not know how to evade. Even touching on painful memories, he admitted calmly: “And if I did?”
That answer lit a fire in Li Wuming’s eyes. “Master, teach me this art!”
“Are you seeking death?”
How could he not know that the boy meant the Nine-tailed White Fox who had lost his yao core? Seeing his foolish disciple bewitched by a fox, the master’s long-buried anger erupted as sword qi, a storm that filled the sky and struck down upon Li Wuming in an instant.
This was a man who cultivated ceaselessly even while breathing, who had already reached the pinnacle of human power. Without stirring, with only a glance, he could summon ten thousand blades of rain.
Any Wandering Immortal would be crippled if not slain outright by that technique, the Ten-thousand Sword Art. But Li Wuming had struggled within such storms since youth. Now he broke them almost easily, snapping pine branches, channeling their force, dissolving each strike in turn. At the end, he flicked the branch free with elegance and said softly, “Have you forgotten, Master? Five hundred years ago, you crippled my meridians with a single stroke when I disobeyed. But I clung on no matter what, until you yielded and saved me. The Jiao-wood fungus that healed me takes thirty thousand years to grow. If you cripple me again now, there won’t be a second stalk to save your disciple.”
[The author plays with history here. In chapter 73 it is stated that Sword Immortal Bai saved his disciple when Li Wuming's meridians were destroyed by poison.]
Every sword stroke Li Wuming knew came from Sword Immortal Bai. Standing free amid the snow, he looked just like his master before seven emotions and six desires had been ground away. Never again would the immortal recover that feeling, and seeing it in his disciple stirred a trace of nostalgia. He ignored the boy’s teasing words, only sighed. “You and I are as father and son. Who would have thought that of all I had to teach, what you learned best was my folly?”
Li Wuming fell silent. The grace his master had shown him was no less than that of a father. Even when the immortal shattered his meridians and drove his consciousness into his body, he had only laughed it off. He had never hated this man who did not understand human bonds.
But some things he could not yield. So now he could only rebel to the end. “The same sword technique can differ greatly in different hands. How can you know I will meet the same fate as you?”
That obstinacy was exactly what his master had once displayed against Heaven. Sword Immortal Bai, long untouched by human emotion, now spoke with rare agitation. “What is it you like about him? His pitiful looks? His fawning? Or his devotion, seeing you as a god?”
That question left Li Wuming without an answer. But before he could think further, his master spoke solemnly: “Everything you love rests upon your great cultivation and his present weakness. Submission is a beast’s instinct, and in yielding to instinct he seems more sincere than any human. But cruelty and selfishness are also the nature of beasts. Once he grows strong enough to harm, those charms will vanish.”
Li Wuming knew his master was speaking of the Yao King. The facts could not be denied. He understood that words alone would never persuade this man that a yao might conquer its nature and become compassionate. So he could only say softly: “Master, I want him to have the same long life as me. I want him always at my side. No one understands this longing better than you. You once said I was your life’s continuation. Don’t you want to see me accomplish the wish you failed to fulfill?”
“You’ll soon understand. No power can ever turn a beast into a man.”
Sword Immortal Bai understood well. Such depth of feeling and obsession could never be reasoned away. Only by seeing the outcome with his own eyes would his disciple abandon hope.
Unable to stop him, he would not waste further time on such matters of love. Without listening to more pleading, he raised a hand and cast a wave of sword qi, flinging the unruly boy out of the grove. His voice was cold. “This master will not teach you to defy Heaven with such folly. Begone!”
~ Chapter End ~
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