Han Sen spun his blackwood staff in a wide, sweeping arc, launching a swift and probing attack toward the open space ahead.

  Fei Fei rose with effortless grace, leaping high into the air, her legs parted in perfect balance as the whirling staff passed harmlessly beneath her.

  Her slender sword flashed downward in a clean, sweeping arc aimed at the ground before him.

  Han Sen dropped low, bending at the knees, allowing the blade to slice through the air just above his head.

  “Well struck!” he called out, genuine admiration in his voice.

  Fei Fei’s movements carried a lightness that seemed almost like dance, every step flowing into the next with natural beauty.

  “This is the Heavenly Descent technique,” she explained, her voice soft yet proud. “It has been passed down in our family from mother to daughter. Though… my father was the one who taught me.”

  “Drink first,” Siu Chen suggested with a warm smile, watching the young pair from the veranda.

  In her heart, Siu Chen already approved wholeheartedly of Fei Fei as a bride for her son.

  The two youths paused their practice, accepting cups of freshly squeezed orange juice—cool and sweet, the fruits plucked only moments before from the trees in the courtyard by Siu Chen herself.

  Fei Fei began to share her story.

  She was Xiao Liong Fei, the only daughter of Xiao Tung Wen, Sect Master of Qing Xin Dao.

  Long ago, before An Lushan’s rebellion shook the realm, Qing Xin Dao had been a respected martial sect in Chang’an.

  The sect stood firmly on principles of unwavering truth and righteous conduct.

  Then came the day An Lushan seized the capital.

  Qing Xin Dao fought with everything they had.

  Many fell.

  Among them was Fei Fei’s mother—once known across Chang’an as the Sword Goddess, the most beautiful martial artist of her time.

  After the rebellion, Qing Xin Dao declined.

  Disciples scattered.

  Xiao Tung Wen held stubbornly to the sect’s old principles, yet found few willing to follow.

  He was too rigid, too unyielding.

  A man of deep principle, yet unable to bend with the world’s harsh winds.

  Fei Fei had inherited her mother’s free and open spirit and her father’s steadfast adherence to what was right.

  Where she saw injustice, she confronted it—no matter how great the odds.

  It was fortunate indeed that Han Sen had appeared when he did.

  They spoke of their pasts, stories flowing freely between them, until the day Han Sen rescued Xiao Tung Wen.

  And then, in gratitude, her father had offered her hand in marriage.

  “Excellent!” Siu Chen declared suddenly, eyes bright. “Then you must marry at once! Right now!”

  “Mother!” Han Sen exclaimed, his face turning deep crimson.

  Fei Fei startled so badly that her cheeks flushed like a boiled shrimp, leaving her momentarily speechless.

  “Listen to me, Han Sen,” Siu Chen continued gently but firmly. “You must think of Fei Fei’s reputation.

  The two of you travel together, seen by many, without a formal bond.

  What will people say of her?

  And tell me truly—what do you feel for this girl?”

  “I… I…” Han Sen stammered, words failing him.

  “Foolish boy,” Siu Chen said, knowing her son’s heart well. “You clearly hold her dear, do you not?”

  “Yes, Mother,” Han Sen admitted softly. “I hold her in the highest regard.”

  Siu Chen nodded.

  “Then why hesitate? You are seventeen now. Fei Fei is sixteen, past the age when most girls marry.

  Others wed at fifteen.”

  “But…” Han Sen began, a troubling thought weighing heavily upon him.

  The words hung unspoken.

  The courtyard fell quiet.

  "Within the Pagoda of Nine Awareness, on the eighth level,” Han Sen began, his voice steady yet carrying the weight of memory that still disturbed his nights, “I faced a vision of what might come.

  In that vision, I carried the four treasures of the Pagoda, each imbued with formidable power.

  Because of them, I drew the attention of an abomination of immense scale.

  A single, colossal eye blazed in the heavens.

  It radiated a hellish fire, its gaze fixed upon me alone.”

  Siu Chen and Fei Fei sat motionless, eyes wide, Siu Chen’s face paling as the words sank in.

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  Han Sen offered a wry smile.

  “Yes, Shifu Lou Siat and Master Wang Cu Lei are immortals, sent by the Heavens.

  They descended because something transpired seven centuries ago.

  But that malevolent power had lain dormant—until it sensed me.

  And I was attacked.

  As a consequence… the Lightning Sword shattered.”

  “What?” Siu Chen exclaimed, hand rising to her heart.

  She knew that blade well—it had been the legacy sword of her late husband, Han Lei’s cherished companion through countless battles.

  “Indeed,” Han Sen continued calmly. “But yesterday, I found a blacksmith who could mend it.

  It turns out his father forged the sword originally.

  The point is… I may yet have to confront that darkness.”

  Fei Fei’s eyes shone with unwavering resolve.

  “Brother,” she said firmly, “then I shall accompany you to the ends of the world to face this evil.

  I am ready to be your wife.”

  Han Sen stared, astonishment rendering him speechless.

  He had spoken of grave danger—and it had only strengthened her determination?

  “Excellent! Excellent!” Siu Chen declared, clapping her hands together. “Then we must hasten the wedding! Ah… but I have no jewels to bestow!”

  “Mother, I have this,” Han Sen said, drawing forth the Amulet of Cloud and Wave.

  The exquisite piece shimmered with vibrant emerald green—far more beautiful than any treasure within palace vaults.

  “How exquisite!” Siu Chen breathed.

  She retrieved a fine golden chain from her small treasury and linked it together, transforming the amulet into a magnificent necklace.

  “Come, child,” she beckoned to Fei Fei.

  The girl approached and knelt before her.

  Siu Chen fastened the necklace around Fei Fei’s neck.

  “Child, your father placed you in my son’s care as his final wish.

  That alone is Heaven’s will.

  But a girl as bright and precious as you deserves more than words spoken in haste.

  Let us make this proper—let Han Sen become your betrothed, and I your mother-in-law in truth.”

  Han Sen’s face flushed deep crimson.

  He felt a sudden urge to vanish into the earth—a feeling familiar to every young man watching his mother embrace his intended.

  Fei Fei noticed his discomfort and, despite the solemn moment, could not resist a playful tease.

  “So now Brother wishes to hide? Many a young man has fled, hikhikik!”

  Han Sen straightened, face still burning.

  He ignored the jest.

  Instead, he bowed deeply to Siu Chen.

  “Mother, if Fei Fei is willing, I desire nothing else under Heaven.”

  Hearing those words, Fei Fei smiled sweetly and lowered her head.

  She now possessed a husband.

  Five days passed in the hidden valley, and the entire populace surrounding the old Zhang family inn—now Siu Chen’s home—bustled with preparations for the wedding.

  Han Sen bestowed five taels of gold upon the village head, Lou Ye Tiong Pek, to oversee the arrangements.

  It was a considerable sum, a blessing to all the villagers of Sen Li Village nestled within the Phoenix Mountains.

  Before the inn stood a stately phoenix tree, known as wu tong.

  Han Sen hung a magnificent red lantern upon its strong branches.

  Ancient lore held that the phoenix alighted only upon the wu tong, symbolizing honor, grandeur, and auspicious fortune.

  He wished such blessings upon his family.

  While the villagers prepared the festivities, Han Sen and Fei Fei harbored their own plans.

  Fei Fei had reached the pinnacle of Qi Condensation.

  Now she must strive to enter the Foundation Establishment.

  Han Sen produced several pure jade stones, presenting them to her.

  “What are these for?” she inquired, curiosity lighting her eyes.

  “Observe,” Han Sen replied.

  He held up the Amulet of Cloud and Wave.

  “Notice the cavity within? Insert these jade stones, then channel your qi to flow through the amulet.”

  Fei Fei followed his instructions.

  A stream of consciousness poured forth from the amulet, flooding her inner sea.

  It was the Breathing Art of Clouds and Waves—sixteen profound stages.

  Fei Fei was astonished.

  It was a technique of extraordinary refinement.

  She immersed herself in its study for the entire day.

  The joyous days of preparation passed swiftly within the old inn of the hidden valley.

  With ample gold, Siu Chen had dispatched servants to Tuhe City to procure all that was needed: the finest crimson silk, golden and jade ornaments, phoenix-dragon candles, and delicacies for the wedding feast.

  The humble inn transformed into a miniature palace of happiness—dozens of red lanterns hung from every corner, illuminating the courtyard with a warm glow reminiscent of Han Lei’s wedding to Siu Chen on the Baihe Plains long ago.

  The auspicious date arrived according to the natural calendar: the tenth day since the reunion, under a full moon and a gentle mountain breeze.

  That morning, Fei Fei sat in the bridal chamber, assisted by Siu Chen, who trembled with joyous happiness as she combed her long, raven hair.

  The crimson silk wedding gown clung to her form perfectly—golden phoenix embroidery spiraled across her chest and sleeves, the long skirt flowing like living flame.

  A phoenix crown of gold and jade beads adorned her head, a thin veil of red silk partially concealing her face, adding an air of mystery.

  Meanwhile, Han Sen in the adjoining chamber donned the groom’s attire: dark crimson silk embroidered with golden dragon motifs upon the shoulders and chest, a jade belt, and a black cap adorned with red beads.

  He stood tall, yet his heart pounded within his chest—a mixture of exhilaration and profound reverence.

  The wedding procession commenced as the sun reached its zenith in the beautifully decorated main courtyard of the inn.

  The red lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, and a crimson carpet stretched from the gate to a simple ancestral altar erected in the center.

  Siu Chen, as both the groom’s mother and the bride’s guardian, stood at the center, a perpetual smile gracing her lips, tears of happiness welling in her eyes.

  Invited villagers sat upon benches, a simple melody of flute and zither weaving through the air.

  The ritual of the Three Kneelings began, the core of a traditional wedding ceremony, uniting the couple before the heavens, the earth, and their ancestors.

  First: Kneeling to Heaven and Earth.

  Han Sen and Fei Fei stood side-by-side upon the crimson carpet, facing the outer altar symbolizing the heavens and the earth.

  They bowed deeply three times—the first to honor the heavens that bestow blessings, the second to the earth that provides sustenance, the third to bind their destinies under the mandate of the celestial realm.

  Second: Kneeling to the Ancestors.

  They turned to face the ancestral table, upon which were placed Han Lei’s memorial tablet, the spirit likeness of Lie Kim, and the portrait of Fei Fei’s father.

  Fragrant incense curled upwards, and candles flickered.

  Han Sen and Fei Fei knelt three times again—offering gratitude to their ancestors who had brought them together, beseeching their blessings for righteous descendants.

  Siu Chen could not restrain her tears as she watched her son kneel before her late husband’s tablet.

  “Han Lei… look at our child. The red lantern shines once more,” she whispered softly.

  Third: Kneeling to Husband and Wife.

  The most poignant moment: Han Sen and Fei Fei faced each other.

  Han Sen knelt deeply before Fei Fei, who returned the bow with an even deeper inclination—a symbol of the husband’s role as head of the household, and the wife’s as a faithful companion.

  They then clasped hands for the first time before the witnesses, and Siu Chen gently lifted Fei Fei’s red veil.

  “From this day forward, you are husband and wife.

  Dragon and phoenix unite, inseparable for eternity,” Siu Chen declared, her voice trembling with emotion.

  This was followed by the Sharing of Wine: two cups of wine tied together with a red cord.

  Han Sen and Fei Fei each drank from the opposing cup—a symbol of sharing both joy and sorrow throughout their lives.

  A simple yet lavish feast was laid out: a whole roasted chicken, a fish symbolizing abundance, Han Sen’s favorite glutinous rice cakes, fresh fruits, and sweet wine.

  Laughter and congratulations flowed from the witnesses.

  Night descended.

  The guests departed, leaving the inn bathed in the increasingly romantic glow of the red lanterns.

  Siu Chen escorted the newlyweds to the bridal chamber, which had been lavishly decorated: a bed strewn with flower petals, red phoenix-dragon candles flickering on either side, a symbol of yin-yang harmony.

  “Tonight, you truly become one,” Siu Chen whispered, embracing Fei Fei tightly, now formally addressing her as “daughter-in-law.”

  She then left them alone, closing the door softly.

  Yet the minds of Han Sen and Fei Fei were not consumed with the pleasures of a newlywed couple, but with the pursuit of Foundation Establishment.

  They discarded their wedding attire and simply slept together upon the bed, exhausted.

  Marriage was a joyous affair, yet also a draining one.

  Come morning, they would begin the endeavor of guiding Fei Fei toward Foundation Establishment.