This last whisper, seemingly a soliloquy, caused Yun Qingrao's fingertips to pause slightly on the strings.
As moonlight flowed, a cunning smile clearly flashed in Yun Qingrao's eyes, with no trace of sleepy bewilderment.
The sea breeze, laden with a salty scent, swept past the bamboo tips. Yun Qingrao's fingertips trembled as she pressed the strings, looking up at the faintly visible reefs deep within the mist.
When the phrase "My heart is like a Cold Pond, no ripples rise, even if the heavens fall, I stand tall" drifted into her ears, she suddenly recalled the ice carp she first met a hundred years ago in Kunlun Snow Abyss.
"I thank you for your guidance, Young Master." The woman's wide sleeves brushed over the scorched-tail zither, and the seventy-two ice silkworm strings vibrated in response, playing the seventh variation of "Qingxu Yin."
Where the sound waves swept, the waves actually solidified into ice crystals in mid-air.
Qing Feng observed with interest the multicolored halos refracted by the falling ice beads in the moonlight.
This Holy Maiden of Yao Stage, rumored to have half-dragon blood, now had the common anxiety of mortal cultivators etched between her brows.
He flicked off an ice crystal that landed on his shoulder, "Ordinary illusion formations often use beauty and gold to mislead people, but this place seems like a glazed lamp specifically designed for imprisonment."
"I need enough power to shatter the lamp's wall." Yun Qingrao suddenly cut off the zither music, and the silver bells on her wrist chimed without wind.
She gazed at the cracked wooden sword at Qing Feng's waist, suddenly recalling the figure who, three hundred years ago, severed the Heavenly River with mere mortal iron.
Qing Feng subconsciously pressed the cracked pattern on the sword hilt, his topic abruptly changing, "Don't laugh at me, but I've been a heavy sleeper since I was a child, which actually honed my ability to discern positions by listening to the wind."
He casually broke off a bamboo branch and sketched on the sand, "The ebb and flow of the tide correspond to jiao and zheng, the rise and fall of the bamboo waves echo gong and shang, but the mermaid's song contains a bianzheng note..."
A hint of surprise flickered in Yun Qingrao's eyes as they shifted.
Her profound understanding of music theory had become a limitation; she had always focused on the seventy-two modulation techniques of the ancient "Nine Shao" score and had not noticed the original laws of musical resonance.
The ice strings gradually tightened with the sound of the tide. When the seventh wave crest hit the shore, the scorched-tail zither suddenly burst forth with a clear, ethereal sound like a phoenix's cry.
"I'll trouble you to act as the Stellar Official, Young Master." Her ten fingers flew like butterflies, and the reef clusters a hundred zhang away appeared in the Big Dipper formation in response. "Later, if you see a dark jade glow at the position of the Greedy Wolf star..."
Before she finished speaking, Qing Feng had already leaped onto the highest tide-watching stone. When the midnight moonlight vertically penetrated the third wave, he let out a long cry towards the Alkaid star position.
In an instant, the sea and sky inverted, and a lightning-struck bamboo shot out of the ground in response. Its green body receded, revealing its true dark jade color, and the character "Xiang" in seal script glowed with a faint blue phosphorescence at the flute holes.
The ink-colored roar erupted from the earth, and the entire bamboo sea trembled in response, with seven-colored glow soaring into the sky.
A mournful flute sound penetrated the forest. The dancing maidens paused slightly and looked towards the anomaly in unison.
Yun Qingrao's slender, jade-like fingers gently stroked the zither strings, her eyes rippling.
Observing its flowing spiritual light, it must be a Heavenly-grade treasure, and even more rarely, a musical artifact. This arrangement was finally not in vain.
Suddenly, a black light appeared, and the long, dark flute flew straight towards Qing Feng's face.
The young man hastily retreated half a step, narrowly dodging the sharp edge as his robes fluttered. The artifact missed, hovering in mid-air as if astonished, having been rejected for the first time in hundreds of years.
Qing Feng secretly groaned, forcing himself to stand still to conceal his cultivation. The dark flute tube rubbed against his chest like a young beast, but it was always blocked by an invisible surge of energy.
"This object is most suited to the Immortal Maiden." Qing Feng turned to Yun Qingrao, who looked surprised. Her usually serene jade countenance now showed a rare childlike innocence, and her long eyelashes trembled, "For me?"
"A treasured sword should be paired with a national scholar, and a wonderful instrument should find its connoisseur." Qing Feng gave a wry smile. He couldn't even distinguish all five musical notes, so he couldn't let this spiritual object be wasted on him.
Yun Qingrao gazed at the restless flute body, the silver bells on her fair wrist jingling softly, "The spirit of an artifact chooses its master by heavenly will; forcing it will only lead to convention." Before she finished speaking, the long flute suddenly let out a mournful cry, spinning back and forth in mid-air, clearly sensing their refusal.
Qing Feng stroked the jade pendant at his waist, "If I'm not mistaken, the key to breaking the formation lies in this object. It's just..." Before he could finish, the flute suddenly lay horizontally between them, the vibrating ripples of the artifact's spirit clearly conveying: "Hurry up and coax me!"
"How about we use the five-stringed zither to teach it the rules of being a spiritual artifact?" Qing Feng's fingertips lightly tapped the stone table, smiling like a fox with a mischievous idea.
The black flute suddenly trembled violently, its jade-like tube reflecting chaotic light spots in the moonlight.
If it truly had facial features, it would surely be wide-eyed and dumbfounded at this moment. A dignified ancient spiritual artifact, to be publicly disciplined?
Yun Qingrao's wide sleeves gently swept, and the five-stringed zither floated into the air.
The strings had not moved, yet dragon-shaped cloud energy already hovered above it, and the pressure, in harmony with the rhythm of heaven and earth, firmly locked onto the black flute.
After only three or five notes rose and fell, the originally unruly spiritual artifact meekly rolled to Qing Feng's boot, its tail even rubbing against his clothes in an attempt to please.
"An artifact's spirit recognizing its master also depends on destiny." Yun Qingrao took the five-stringed zither, which had automatically returned to its place, and looked at the young man who was transferring spiritual energy to the black flute. "However, your method of taming is more effective than the 'Artifact Taming Art' of Luoshui Palace."
Qing Feng pinched the trembling flute tube with two fingers, as if holding a ruffled cat by the scruff of its neck, "Now, are you willing to tell me what mystery this weeping flute of yours holds?"
The bamboo flute suddenly burst forth with a clear, resonant sound, and the surrounding water vapor instantly solidified.
Where the sound waves swept, the reefs transformed into monstrous waves, and thousands of aquatic phantoms leaped from the wave crests.
In an instant, the sea was frozen solid, and with a change in key, spring tides surged. The melodies flowing with seven emotions even drew distant seabirds to linger and cry mournfully.
"This is the sound of a love tribulation." Yun Qingrao's fingertips traced the ancient patterns on the zither body, "Legend says that when Emperor Shun died during his southern tour, Ehuang and Nüying shed tears on Mount Jiuyi. Their tears of longing and blood soaked the Xiang bamboo, which then gave birth to this spiritual flute capable of playing all the sorrows of human separation."
Qing Feng suddenly chuckled, "I, however, think this story should be about a Dragon Palace Princess waiting bitterly for the flutist among the Eight Immortals. Immortal Maiden, have you heard the allusion of 'Meeting the Immortal at Blue Bridge'?"
"You..." Yun Qingrao rarely showed a stunned expression, her moon-white robes lifted and fell by the sea breeze, "You always have some strange and peculiar ideas."
The five-stringed zither suddenly emitted a clear sound on its own, forcibly interrupting the flute's melody, which was still depicting mortal joys and sorrows.
The two spiritual artifacts vibrated ceaselessly as if competing, which somewhat diluted the previous somber atmosphere.
Qing Feng casually tucked the black flute into his waist, looking like a mischievous child who had just received a new toy.
"Daoist texts record that Han Xiangzi, one of the Eight Immortals, was a high disciple under the Grand Pure One."
Qing Feng gently stroked the bamboo-patterned black flute, his eyes reflecting the flickering glow of the bonfire, "The Jade Emperor once bestowed upon him three volumes of heavenly books and golden scrolls, decreeing him to rule the Three Realms, oversee the Nine Heavens Cloud Palace above, observe human good and evil in the middle, and suppress the Underworld City Gods below. He also possessed magical treasures such as the shrinking-land flower basket and the sea-town ing fishing drum..."
His tone grew increasingly certain, his gaze fixed on the dark jade flute in his hand.
This object reminded him of a secret story from the East Sea Dragon Palace. Legend has it that when Han Xiangzi was young, he became acquainted with a dragon maiden, and they often played music and danced on the reefs.
To protect her lover, the dragon maiden once stole purple bamboo from the South Sea to make an Immortal Flute as a gift.