The next day passed with little problems. After the awkward morning, the disciples of the Silver Forest Peak finally warmed up to their shizun's presence and started swarming him instead, with proper distance of course. Though he seemed antisocial, Bai Nian actually remembered each and every one of his outer disciples, even specifically commenting on some of their individual progress. Shen Jing, for the most part, stayed back to study his new manuals more, meditating whenever he needed a break to process it.

It was after dinner that Fang Xiaoxiao and He Jiangshan pounced on him, grinning. "Xiao-shidi, we're going down tomorrow, have you prepared?"

"Err," Shen Jing said. Was there anything he needed to prepare other than clothes?

<A novel, and some earphones.>

Shen Jing, "......" Thank you for reminding me of luxuries I can no longer have.

“Other than clothes, is there anything to prepare?” he asked. Fang Xiaoxiao and He Jiangshan exchanged a look.

“You’re not going to get anything?” He Jiangshan pursed his lips. “Then again, you’ve never gone down the mountain before, have you? And I don’t think you knew about doing some chores for money… Gah, and you’re so diligent about that, too! It’s really a shame, next time, we’re going to the office to make sure you get your allowance money!”

The novel never talked about Xuan Lang doing any of these things, but it might’ve been mentioned in passing. It would make sense, too, Shen Jing supposed— He Jiangshan often bought this and that to enable his inventing hobby and it couldn’t have come from nowhere… Unimportant things weren’t mentioned in the novel, because Three Legged Cat was a better writer than that, but Shen Jing couldn’t help but feel blindsided by how… normal things were when he had to live through it.

“It’s okay,” Shen Jing said, but then his mouth was covered  by a calloused hand.

“Nope,” Fang Xiaoxiao said solemnly, shaking her head with eyes closed. “It’s a must now, I decree it. You’re not allowed to say no!”

Bai Nian, standing on the doorway, coughed. The three of them looked up— the room was empty, leaving behind only their shizun there while Xuan Lang and Ji Hualiu stood a bit further outside. Fang Xiaoxiao and He Jiangshan leapt away, hiding their hands behind their backs.

“...Sleep,” Bai Nian said in the end, staring at the three of them. At their fervent nods, he turned around and walked away. His five disciples prepared to leave, each carrying dirty dishes, but then Bai Nian looked back and said, “None of you bring manuals. It’s field training. There’s no time for books.”

This time, he was gone.

A minute passed as the five of them exchanged looks. It was Fang Xiaoxiao who broke the silence: “Who’s even so bookworm-y they’d bring training manuals for a few day’s trip to town?”

Shen Jing, “......”

Wu-jie, I’m being bullied, I want to go home...

____

There was a knock on his door before the sun even changed the shade of the shadows in his bedroom— bleary, Shen Jing rolled out of his thick blankets. “Eh…?”

“Time to get ready.” Xuan Lang’s voice was muffled by the early morning air, distant. “We’re heading out in one shichen.”

Shen Jing stared at the ceiling in a daze for several minutes before he finally rolled out of bed, almost flattening his face with the floor. He could hear groans from next door, too, from Fang Xiaoxiao and later He Jiangshan— though then there was just this sound of a small gong and… Rubbing his eyes, Shen Jing took the wooden basin and went on to do his morning routine.

A yawn sounded in his brain. <G’morn.>

“Good morning, Wu-jie. You sleep?”

<Sometimes. When I don’t have to run on coffee made with boiled energy drinks.>

“That’s disgusting,” Shen Jing honestly said. He toweled his face off, shuddering when a breeze slipped in and made the already-cold water that clung to his skin frigid. Aah, this is the part he hated so much about living here… He wasn’t a big fan of being frozen… “Please get regular sleep… Schedule is important.”

Not that he was following his own advice during college days. There simply wasn’t time for that. Shen Jing wasn’t a big fan of that year either, now that he had a taste of a simpler life. He pulled on some fresh clothes, grabbed the pouch He Jiangshan lent him last night to keep his belongings, and dragged himself out to the courtyard.

Bai Nian was leaning against the tree, head tilted all the way up as he stared at the foliage above. Xuan Lang and Ji Hualiu were sitting nearby, seemingly in a quiet conversation. Over her shoulders was a thick-looking, dark cloak embroidered with a pastel turquoise, while on her lap was a black mass of cloth. When she noticed Shen Jing coming out, she looked up. “Come here and take your cloak.”

Shen Jing hurried over, holding back another yawn. The sky hadn’t even changed shades yet… It was still a cold, deep grey, fragmented edges of the night merging with the foliage outline. It was about fifteen minutes before He Jiangshan and Fang Xiaoxiao finally made it out, alive but at what cost.

They went to eat breakfast, and then they were off. Everyone was getting more awake my the moment as they descended the hundreds of stairs down the peak, but Shen Jing especially so as he caught a glimpse of cotton candy clouds and shy blue sky in the moments preceding the sunrise— he paused mid-step to watch it rise.

“Eh, why are we stopping?”

He hurried to catch up. “Nothing…”

The lowest part of Mount Song Sect was something akin to a man-made plateau, with a large, open area surrounded by walls and equally formidable gates. Shen Jing was only aware of its existence after the novel mentioned entrance exams; otherwise, it wasn’t really mentioned. It was empty and rather devoid of life; somewhere off to the sides, though, there must’ve been something more. Ji Hualiu went somewhere and when she came back it was with two young men, six horses in hand. She turned to Bai Nian. “Shizun, do we need a carriage?”

Shen Jing warily eyed the horses. While he was never a big person, the size of these horses was even more intimidating when he was in the shape of his fourteen years old self, who was… even smaller. He’d never come close to one, either. His life being what it was, his mother never had the time nor energy or money to take him outside for the most part; as a child, his only “trips” were grocery trips. He remembered the few occasions he got to play at the park, but even then the closest thing to a big animal he’d approached was someone’s German Shepherd...

"I'm not getting in one!" Fang Xiaoxiao said, hand raised higher than she'd ever have it in class. With gusto she pretty much spun around as she bounded over to one of the horses— it seemed to recognize her, too, as it shook off the man holding on to its reins. When Bai Nian didn’t object, she swung up onto its back, grinning with triumph. Shen Jing couldn’t help but think, ah, this is it, the next Sword Saint… Of course she’d love things that bring her thrill.

"Me neither," He Jiangshan said as he followed suit. He did so with less fun kicks and spins, but with no less glee. Ji Hualiu shook her head in amusement as she turned to Bai Nian once more.

“You?” Bai Nian asked.

For the trip, Ji Hualiu had put on a mili¹Veiled hat. Their veil reaches the hip or knees, significantly longer than the shoulder-length weimao.. The sheer silk veil cast a mystical, ethereal softness to her already beautiful features; it extended down to her hips, and whenever a passing breeze played with it, she looked more and more like an immortal descending to walk among men.

She's so pretty…

“It’s been a while,” she admitted. “I’d like some fresh air.”

“No need, then,” Bai Nian said to the stablekeepers. “Get a smaller…” He must’ve remembered something important, though, because he stopped and turned to Shen Jing. The look in his expressionless face was clear, at least to Shen Jing— do you even… know how to ride a horse?

The answer to which was, of course, no. In a feat of amazing biology, though, Shen Jing expressed this without words: his body broke into cold sweat as his brain screamed, the sound not unlike nuclear warning sirens.

“Eh?” He Jiangshan steered his horse around to approach Shen Jing, who stumbled on his own two feet as he backed away from the curious animal. “If Xiao-shidi hasn’t ridden one before, how about going with me? I’ll show you fun!”

No thank you! Wu-jie, help me!

<Automated Message: Be there in a jiffy, getting coffee.>

Aaa—?!

"I'll just have my saddle changed," Xuan Lang decided. "Xiao-shidi can go with me."

As soon as he said that, Bai Nian nodded. “Go with Xuan Lang.”

Having their orders, the stablekeepers went to get the saddle changed. Bai Nian got onto his own horse, which seemed to be very familiar with him— it was a large, white one, because of course it would be. Xuan Lang went out on errands on a semi regular basis, and he was the head disciple of the Silver Forest Peak, so he got one, too— a dark brown mare, one that looked at Shen Jing in curiosity when Xuan Lang nudged him forward.

This is the easiest, least problematic way to do this, Shen Jing reminded himself as he shuffled forward and, uh, attempted to get on. Oh no… this wasn’t working out. Other ways would just result in more problems, be it someone preparing a carriage or me being left behind, which might get people to talk about the peak negatively…

<Hey, I’m back! With coffee. Got me the entire kettle here. Wait, what’s up? Do you need help getting up on that horse?>

“Wu-jie, I’m near tears, please help…”

<Shh, shh, Jiejie’s here, everything will be fine.>

And two things happened at once: Shen Jing’s body moved on its own as Xuan Lang moved to help him up, and Shen Jing honestly, for the first time in this entire transmigration thing, wished he could just evacuate his mortal coil. But nothing happened after; no comments or no looks. Xuan Lang climbed on and sat behind him, pushing Shen Jing’s cloak to the side a bit so he wouldn’t sit on it. Then his arms became cages as he grabbed the reins.

With Shen Jing stiff as a board, they went out of the sect and descended the last stretch of the mountains.

Bai Nian led the way. The town they were heading to, Anlin town, wasn’t that far from Mount Song. It was a bit further out from the town the disciples frequented, but it was reachable by foot in half a day, maybe a bit more; definitely faster on sword. But as of now, only Xuan Lang and Ji Hualiu had swords, so horses were brought out. It didn’t dampen Fang Xiaoxiao and He Jiangshan’s energy any. The two trotted right behind Shizun, sometimes trying to overtake each other without alerting Bai Nian too much. Xuan Lang was, as usual when they were on excursions, at the tail end. Ji Hualiu usually rode a bit slower so that they were still at conversation range, but from what Shen Jing could see of her, she seemed to be enjoying the scenery and not particularly thirsty for small talks.

It was a beautiful trail, though. The road was wide enough for two, three carriages side by side, and paved too, but pressing against the sides were the thick forests, alive with the sounds of morning. Every now and then they’d pass by a cart carrying supplies and food up to the sect— Shen Jing couldn’t help but peer, curious. After half an hour, the tension in his body had gone to its normal levels. Not zero, but he was enjoying himself— the air, the noises of nature, the rhythmic movement of the horse.

“They have horseriding lessons every month,” Xuan Lang said. His voice was low, the texture of Ji Hualiu’s veil flapping in the wind, but Shen Jing almost jumped and slammed his skull against the protagonist’s jaw at the sound. “You should join that.”

“O-okay… Thank you for… Sorry for the trouble, Da-shixiong. I will learn as soon as I can.” 

"You’ve said it yourself. I'm your Da-shixiong. It's my responsibility to look after everyone."

He said it with conviction, and having read the novel to the end, Shen Jing believed him.

After the attack on Mount Song, it hadn’t just been the direct disciples of Bai Nian who’d gone with Xuan Lang. Though the younger ones didn’t understand what had happened and some blamed him, Xuan Lang continued to shelter them, pulling along this group of over a dozen across hell and high water. It hadn’t been easy; Xuan Lang’s reputation had been dragged through the mud. Some of the older disciples continued to believe in him, but being cut off from everything… some of them succumbed to one thing or another, including wounds they sustained during the attack. Nearing the lowest point of the true plotline, the surviving outer disciple group of the former Silver Forest Peak ended up leaving Xuan Lang for a more secure life in another sect… It was a stinging betrayal, but one that Xuan Lang couldn’t blame them for. He couldn’t begrudge them. And he didn’t. Not until the uncharacteristic blackening that became more and more unfair the longer Shen Jing thought about it.

Staring down and tracing lines on the saddle, Shen Jing nodded. “I know. Thank you for everything.”

This time, I promise you… No matter how bad it gets, this journey will not end a tragedy— not for a second time.