Six years later.
As the first ray of sunlight pierced the bamboo hut, accompanied by a low, soothing melody, Evan Young slowly awoke from his meditative state. The profound sense of comfort permeating his entire body elicited an involuntary sigh.
The sixteen-year-old Evan Young possessed a beauty that bordered on feminine. Jet-black hair cascaded down his back. Large, obsidian eyes radiated clarity. His simple white robe, though slightly oversized, did nothing to diminish the aura of elegant grace that surrounded him. Even seated, his composure was unnervingly calm and collected, radiating a serenity that belied his age. Faint streams of cyan and deep red energy swirled around him before dissipating, the cyan clearly more prominent, though the red held a denser hue.
The melody ceased. Quentin withdrew his hands, a trace of weariness flickering across his features. "Evan, your aura seems to have improved again."
"Yes, Grandpa Qin!" Evan jumped up excitedly, his face alight with youthful exuberance. "Grandfather Yale said yesterday it feels like I've reached Third Tier of Green Bamboo! Grandpa Qin, aren't you supposed to teach me a new melody today? I've been learning from you for a year, and you've only taught me one piece!"
Quentin smiled faintly, "It's not yet time, Evan. You must understand: mastering one method unlocks all others. Learning many melodies is useless unless you truly grasp the essence of the 'Zither Heart'. Only then can you progress continuously."
Six years had passed. Quentin had poured his heart and soul into Evan Young. Each day, he spent at least half his time by Evan's side, playing the zither. Nurtured by this music, Evan's elegant and spiritually refined temperament blossomed further. From age three, he began cultivating Bamboo Aura under his biological grandfather, Yale Leaf. Yale spent a full year using his immense aura to cleanse and open Evan's meridians, giving him an intuitive grasp of the fundamentals. At five, Quentin formally began instructing him in the mysteries of Zither Magic. Now, a year later, Quentin had only taught Evan the most basic fingerings for the ancient zither and one simple piece: 'Green Waters'.
Evan protested, "But I've mastered it!"
Quentin remained serene, "Have you truly? Very well, follow me outside." Stretching slightly, Quentin picked up his Spring Thunder zither and led Evan out of the bamboo hut.
Yale Leaf's family honored their agreement. Since Evan began learning the zither, they visited him only once a month. (Covert observations were, of course, another matter.)
Stepping outside into the bamboo grove, Quentin halted. "Evan, what are the three timbres of the ancient zither and their meanings?"
Evan, accustomed to Quentin's tests, answered without hesitation: "The three timbres are open-string tones (San Yin), stopped-string tones (An Yin), and harmonic tones (Fan Yin). San Yin is the sound produced by the right hand plucking an open string, characterized by deep, resonant, and harmonious tones. An Yin is produced when the left hand presses the string against the body while the right hand plucks, resulting in soft, mellow, and rounded tones. Fan Yin is created when the left hand lightly touches a string node while the right hand plucks, yielding clear, bright, and crystalline tones. The blending and interplay of these three timbres create the zither's music."
Quentin nodded approvingly, "Correct. Playing the ancient zither is arguably the most difficult of all stringed instruments. Just the basic harmonics, influenced by the seven strings and thirteen nodes, produce ninety-one distinct tones. Add the combinations with open and stopped strings, and the possibilities are nearly endless. If you don't solidify your foundation, how can you achieve greatness in the future?"
Evan nodded obediently, "Grandpa Qin, I understand my mistake. I'll keep practicing the basics."
Quentin smiled inwardly. While he admonished Evan verbally, he was immensely satisfied with this disciple. Though Evan had only formally studied the zither for a year, the five years prior, from infancy to age five, were steeped in its sounds. His familiarity with its resonance was nearly on par with Quentin's own. His innate talent for the instrument was unprecedented – a genius among geniuses.
Quentin handed the Spring Thunder zither to Evan, gesturing towards a bamboo table amidst the grove. "Sit. Here's a challenge: if you can play 'Green Waters' and attract all the creatures of this forest to gather around you, accepting you as their dearest friend, I will teach you a new piece. Now, begin your practice. I'll fetch breakfast."
Evan nodded, carefully placing the Spring Thunder zither on the bamboo table before him. Sitting upright, the moment his eight fingers touched the strings, his demeanor shifted. His youthful innocence remained, yet it was overlaid with a maturity and grace far beyond his years. His fingers danced, and the serene strains of 'Green Waters' began to fill the air.
The melody was gentle and flowing, yet Quentin frowned. "Heart and intention united, intention and zither merged. If you cannot resonate with the music itself, your notes will never stir the spirit of any living being."
Evan glanced up at Quentin but didn't stop playing. He closed his eyes. A faint, peaceful smile touched his lips. Though the melody remained 'Green Waters', its essence subtly transformed. Evan seemed to immerse himself completely in lush mountains and clear waters. A faint crimson aura radiated from him, gently spreading outward.
Only then did Quentin nod with genuine satisfaction, sighing inwardly, Yale Leaf, you only know our Zither Magic is the mightiest among all magics. But do you realize how arduous the path of a Mental Mage, especially a Lute Magus like us, truly is?
Mental Magic differed fundamentally from other schools. Its power stemmed first from cultivating immense mental strength, then channeling it through specialized methods to influence an opponent's mind from all angles. If Elemental Magic sought to destroy the body, Mental Magic targeted the soul.
Using zither music to temper one's mental strength, then releasing that strength through the music itself, using the unique properties of different melodies to generate diverse mental assaults or supports – this was the essence of Zither Magic.
The tranquil bamboo grove resonated with the deep, resonant, yet soothing strains of the melody. Six-year-old Evan, whose world consisted of zither practice and Bamboo Aura cultivation, played 'Green Waters' repeatedly. The passage of time seemed irrelevant to him; he was wholly absorbed in the music's profound mysteries. Influenced by his playing, small creatures began emerging from the bamboo: birds, rabbits, squirrels. They gathered cautiously at first, listening from a distance, gradually becoming entranced by Evan's melody.
"Eh? Who are you?" Quentin's low exclamation upon returning with a bamboo basket of food startled Evan. The music stopped abruptly. Opening his eyes, Evan followed Quentin's gaze, curiosity piqued.
Unnoticed, a young boy had appeared about five meters from Evan. He sat crouched on the ground, staring intently at Evan playing. The boy appeared roughly Evan's age. He lacked Evan's refined beauty, but his facial features possessed a certain hardness unusual for a child. Most striking was his head of purple hair – an uncommon hue among humans.
Hearing Quentin, the boy snapped out of his trance. His previously vacant eyes filled with intense hostility as he glared at Quentin. His fists clenched tightly, lips pressed together in silence.
Evan rushed excitedly to Quentin's side, taking the basket. "Grandpa Qin, look! My music attracted a person!" Beaming, he pulled a freshly peeled bamboo shoot from the basket and offered it to the purple-haired boy. "Hello! Please, eat this."
The purple-haired boy's gaze shifted from Quentin to Evan's face, radiant with innocent warmth. His expression softened imperceptibly. He accepted the bamboo shoot with a nod. Before Quentin could question him further, he abruptly turned and sprinted away, vanishing into the thick bamboo in the blink of an eye.
Quentin watched the boy disappear, frowning slightly. Has the Bamboo Sect's illusion array failed? he wondered. That boy seemed intensely hostile towards me... yet completely relaxed looking at Evan. Was he truly drawn by the zither's sound? He was a mage, not suited for pursuit, and could only let the matter rest.
Days filled with morning zither practice and evening aura cultivation under Quentin's melodies became Evan's simple life. Yet, after the purple-haired boy's appearance, a new dimension of color entered his world.
Each morning, as Evan began playing, the purple-haired boy would quietly appear, sitting nearby, silently listening. With this dedicated audience, Evan's practice felt less solitary.
From his first appearance, the purple-haired boy never spoke a word to anyone. When alone with Evan, he seemed calm, even peaceful. But the moment Quentin, Evan's parents, or Yale Leaf appeared, he would vanish instantly.
Raymond once tried discreetly following the boy, curious about his origins. He discovered the boy also lived within the Emerald Canopy, roughly two kilometers from Evan's practice area. Apart from his unusual hair color and silent nature, he seemed like any other child, surviving on bamboo shoots from the forest. His solitary, aloof presence gradually earned acceptance. Since he remained silent and didn't disturb Evan's cultivation of the 'Innocent Heart Core', Quentin and Evan's family tolerated his presence. During Evan's breaks, he often chatted with him, shared his clothes and the food his parents brought. The purple-haired boy accepted silently, still speaking not a word. Yet, the look in his eyes when regarding Evan grew steadily warmer.
Spring departed, autumn arrived. In the blink of an eye, another decade passed. The handsome child matured into a strikingly handsome youth. Evan Young, at sixteen, stood nearly six feet tall. His frame was slender yet well-proportioned. He habitually wore simple white robes, his jet-black hair falling straight down his back. His bearing exuded an innate elegance rare even among adult nobility. Though still young, he possessed a remarkable stillness, a calm and composed demeanor that commanded attention. Faint currents of cyan and deep red energy swirled around him before fading; the cyan remained dominant, but the red held a richer depth.
"Zander! Zander! Where are you?" Evan Young, clad in his white robe, called out as he walked through the bamboo forest. His clear voice echoed like lingering zither notes, ethereal and graceful.
After calling for a while with no response, Evan stopped, murmuring to himself, "Where did Zander go? Why is he missing?" His eyes suddenly brightened, a smile spreading across his face. "I know!" Without hesitation, he sat cross-legged on the forest floor. A silver glint flashed on his left middle finger. Instantly, an ancient zither materialized before him. Its body was thick and rounded, crafted from paulownia wood, aged to a deep yellow hue. Chestnut-brown lacquer covered its surface, patterned with intricate 'snake-belly' and 'fine running-water' cracks. Mother-of-pearl inlays marked the nodes. A round dragon pool adorned its top, with an oval phoenix pond below. The dragon pool's tone-enhancing surface rose slightly. The tuning pegs and bridge feet were made of vibrant red agate.
His gaze softened, almost affectionate, as he looked upon the instrument. "'Parting at Yang Pass' calls for the balanced harmony of the Nine Heavens Jade Pendant Zither," he murmured. "I refuse to believe you won't appear."
His eight fingers settled lightly upon the strings. Instantly, the mournful strains of farewell filled the air. This was a melody of parting. The very first notes seemed to solidify the atmosphere. Creatures of the Emerald Canopy, though lacking large beasts, reacted instantly. Birds and small animals converged on Evan Young with astonishing speed. Soon, a cacophony of animal cries – plaintive, mournful – arose as Evan's surroundings grew lively.
'Parting at Yang Pass' derived its name from a single melody repeated three times, each repetition deepening the sorrow. The sorrow of the first repetition built upon the second, and the third layer, combining all the accumulated grief, formed the piece's emotional peak. Now, Evan concluded the first repetition. His hands swept across the strings like phantoms. Instantly, the tempo quickened dramatically. The air grew thick with a sense of impending loss. Only Evan, deeply immersed in the music, remained unaware.