My Senior Sister Says She Will Marry No One But Me - Chapter 51

At the very moment the arrow from the Hu youth left the bowstring and cut through the air, Du Yunge finally experienced the raw, visceral brutality of the conflict between the Hu and Han peoples something she had never felt during her time on Mount Wangyou. She had only heard that the strife between the Hu and Han below the mountain had grown increasingly fierce over the years, and her understanding of the Wuzaka tribe was limited to fragmented whispers in her dreams and the accounts relayed by Qin Shanshan. But she had never imagined that the war faction could be so brazen, so xenophobic and even more shocking was the realization that in this place, whether mixed-blood or Han, lives were as fragile as blades of grass, tossed about like drifting tumbleweeds.

She also knew that Qin Shanshan’s martial skills were lacking and that she could never block this arrow for her. Meanwhile, Xue Shuyan, who had just left, seemed to be returning. Even from the corner of her eye, Du Yunge could see that dark-robed figure reappearing on the rooftops along the street, clearly risking exposure to rush back and protect her.

But that absolutely must not happen.

If asked to explain in detail why it must not, however, Du Yunge found herself at a loss for words. After turning it over in her mind, only one thought remained clear:

Her senior sister Xue was a revered hero in the Central Plains martial world.

Even when facing the sect leaders of prestigious schools like Emei and Wudang, or when the eighteen Arhats of Shaolin arrived in person, Xue Shuyan never had to bow and scrape excessively. In the jianghu, beyond the basic respect for seniority, strength commanded the highest regard.

Yet no matter how formidable or awe-inspiring Xue Shuyan was in the Central Plains, here in the treacherous lands beyond the frontier, she was merely a mixed-blood whom anyone could trample upon. The Hu people had many ingrained customs, and this was but one insignificant example.

In that fleeting instant, Du Yunge’s palms grew clammy with sweat, her hands trembling as she clutched the pipa. Yet her mind seemed to detach from her body, remaining eerily calm and stubbornly fixated on one thought:

My senior sister is a hero. Everyone should treat her with utmost respect, not daring to make the slightest misstep. How dare these rude, brutish Hu people humiliate her? Are they even worthy?

Just then, a fragment of the handwritten manuscript by Du Baoqin, the founding master of the Miaoyin Sect, flashed abruptly and swiftly through her mind.

Specifically, the musical score she had recently studied contained an unusually sharp and resonant note in the middle section. Next to it, in elegant, delicate script, was a neat annotation:

Regardless of the performer’s inner strength, external release of energy is possible here. However, if one cannot control it freely, do not attempt lightly there is a risk of qi deviation.

Beside it, another line of more hurried and wild handwriting added a new comment:

Then why include this note in the score? How are later generations who lack control supposed to play it?

Du Baoqin had promptly retorted beneath that:

If you can’t play it, just skip the note! You fool!

That brief phrase, which Du Yunge had even doubted was real before, now burst forth in this critical moment like the last spark struggling to survive in a dying fire pit. Though faint, it carried an undeniable momentum a desperate, spectacular struggle against death.

Driven by her trust in the founding sect master of Miaoyin Sect and her unwillingness to let Xue Shuyan face any further hardship from the barbarians, Du Yunge snatched up her pipa and stepped out alone. First, she raised her free hand toward the dark silhouette on the distant rooftop, signaling “halt” to stop Xue Shuyan from rushing to her rescue. Then, cradling the pipa halfway, she faced the arrow piercing through the wind and clouds and plucked out a melody still unfamiliar to her one that had not been heard since Du Baoqin’s time, a sound of unparalleled might:

Heavenly Demon’s Enchanting Melody.

Centuries later, this first note, destined to become a legend passed down through generations by martial artists and storytellers, finally revealed its edge on this desolate and savage land. It seemed to mark an end and a beginning to the old grudge that began when the Empress and the founding sect master Du Baoqin fell, and the barbarians invaded the Central Plains.

What started here years ago would now be fully reclaimed!

As Du Yunge’s fingers touched the strings, she keenly felt the pipa’s lament.

This crude, inferior instrument could not withstand the killing intent of the Heavenly Demon’s Enchanting Melody, let alone channel its energy outward. Before she could even release the force described in the score, Du Yunge heard three sharp, urgent twangs beside her ear. The three thinnest strings of the pipa snapped cleanly in the middle, narrowly grazing her cheek and leaving three fine trails of blood on her once flawless jade-like skin.

Yet even then, Du Yunge did not let go. Her hands, marked with several bloody lines from the broken strings, showed no sign of releasing the pipa. A piercing pain shot through her fingertips proof of the saying that the heart is connected to every finger. Of the four strings, only the thickest one remained, trembling on the verge of breaking, barely managing to release a wisp of energy.

But no matter how faint, that energy was enough for the arrow already at the end of its flight!

An invisible force shot through the air, whipping up a howling wind as it collided with the arrow. The two forces canceled each other out, deflecting the long arrow completely. With a whoosh, it brushed past the hem of Du Yunge’s robe and buried itself in the yellow sand beneath the carriage.

Only then did Du Yunge realize her back was drenched in cold sweat. She had truly walked the line between life and death. Yet, as she collected herself, she felt little fear. Instead, a sense of boundless freedom and vast horizons filled her heart.

However, her actions appeared entirely different to the outsiders far from hurried or flustered. The group of Hu youths only saw a Han girl emerge from the carriage, her skin so fair it seemed to glow, a stark contrast to their own sun- and wind-beaten appearances. As the saying goes, “Fair skin hides a hundred flaws,” and in the throes of youthful admiration, they immediately felt a pang of regret.

Then, they witnessed a scene so astonishing it nearly made their eyes pop out:

The girl in the pale pink dress effortlessly cradled her pipa, exuding the leisurely grace nurtured only by the refined landscapes of the Central Plains. With a light pluck of the strings, she produced a note.

A sharp twang should have followed, but the strings snapped simultaneously, sparing the young men’s ears by what seemed like divine intervention. Yet, the unleashed force was undeniably real, deflecting the arrow completely!

So elegant, so captivating, so enchanting and with such unfathomable martial prowess she was truly a figure of hidden brilliance and heroism!

Whether out of pure admiration for beauty or the inherent Hu reverence for strength and the desire to follow the powerful, this girl brought by their saintess fully deserved the title of “honored guest.”

Only then did the Hu youths truly regard this stunning beauty who had dazzled them from afar. But true beauty withstands prolonged gazing; the longer one looks, the more captivating it becomes, and the Central Plains’ top beauty was no exception. She utterly mesmerized these Hu youths, who had never seen a truly beautiful Han girl before. When they finally snapped out of it, they began blaming each other for their earlier actions:

“You were too rough!”

“As if you weren’t among those teasing me just now!”

“But did I tell you to shoot that arrow? You’re such a fool!”

“Thank goodness the honored guest wasn’t harmed. Does anyone know who she is?”

“The saintess said she was bringing back the sect leader of the Miaoyin Sect. Could it be?”

When the youth who had shot the arrow at Du Yunge cautiously voiced this speculation, everyone fell silent:

If she really was the sect leader of the Miaoyin Sect,what a mess had they stirred up? They’d probably get a whipping from their fathers when they returned home!

The Hu people didn’t believe in the Han’s gradual methods of disciplining their children. They adhered to the principles, “Spare the rod, spoil the child” and “Children won’t achieve anything without a beating.” As long as the elders were still able, they would keep beating until the children obeyed. If Qin Shanshan were to visit these youths’ homes and recount their behavior today, a bruised backside would be the least of their worries.

“B-but isn’t there a saying, ‘Ignorance is no sin’…” The once wild and reckless youths now spoke timidly, lacking confidence, yet they stubbornly clung to their flawed reasoning.

“We didn’t know that was the Misty Sound Sect Leader before! It’s not our fault, who told the Saintess to speak so ambiguously? I say we should run for it now. The Saintess has to accompany the honored guest, so she’ll definitely travel slower. By the time we all get home, she’ll arrive late, and then we can all stick to our story and deny everything. Even the Saintess won’t be able to pin this on us!”

The group of youths found this reasoning quite convincing and nodded fervently in agreement. But the very next second.

Out of nowhere, several small stones came flying through the air, striking each of them squarely on the ankle with unerring precision, as if guided by supernatural forces.

The Hu youths cried out in pain, and upon inspection, found their ankles already swollen and burning. If they didn’t want to aggravate their injuries, they’d have to ride their horses back slowly. Such refined Central Plains martial arts could only have been executed by either the Saintess Mayila, who stood before them, or the Misty Sound Sect Leader no one else came to mind.

By sheer coincidence, Xue Shuyan’s presence remained completely undetected. Instead, it was Du Yunge, who had keenly noticed the direction from which the stones came, who lifted her head and smiled faintly toward a distant rooftop. The fine bloodstains on her face did nothing to diminish her composure; instead, they made her appear even more radiant and striking.

Unable to flee, the Hu youths had no choice but to put on a dramatic display of weeping and wailing before the silently sneering Qin Shanshan, who was closing in on them:

“Saintess for the sake of the days we studied together in the same tent, spare me! Don’t tell my father!”

“Saintess, you weren’t clear enough! How were we supposed to know that was the Misty Sound Sect Leader?”

“Exactly! If we’d known it was the Misty Sound Sect Leader, we wouldn’t have dared shoot arrows at her, let alone say anything harsh in your direction!”

Qin Shanshan let out a cold laugh. “Save your excuses for your fathers!”

That evening, when Du Yunge arrived at the Wuzaka tribe, the welcoming banquet was filled not only with ambiguous glances from all sides but also with hidden screams mingling with the Hu people’s welcoming and toasting songs, a fitting display of authentic frontier customs.

Du Yunge: Thank you, Guardian Chun, for sparing my backside back then. I kneel in gratitude.

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