Farewell, Fellow Daoist

Outside Yuanmagnetic Valley on Jueyun Mountain. Luo Chen lowered his spirit cloud and concealed his presence, quietly observing the figure seated cross-legged inside the valley. "It really is him!" "It truly is Miao Wen!" Miao Wen, an outer deacon of the Jade Cauldron Sword Sect, had once been the chief steward in charge of daily secular affairs at the Yuding Sword Pavilion in Dahe Market. In that remote, sprawling market, his cultivation level might not have been the highest, but his status had been one of a kind. Even cultivators with higher realms like Mi Shuhua and Zhou Qing had gone out of their way to cater to him because of his position. Yet now... The man who had once kept his appearance immaculate, carrying himself with effortless grace, was now disheveled and covered in grime, wearing tattered rags. There was not the slightest trace of a proud Jade Cauldron sword cultivator left about him. A pair of gold-threaded cloud-treader shoes was worn to shreds, revealing blackened toes. Aside from the embroidered emblem of the Sword Sect on his robes, barely a single intact scrap of cloth remained on his entire body. His face was caked with mud, and bits of raw meat and streaks of blood still clung to the corners of his mouth. Anyone who saw him looking like this would take him for a savage beast of a man. Who could have imagined that he had once been a Foundation Establishment True Cultivator, basking in the flattery and reverence of tens of thousands of rogue cultivators in Dahe Market? Luo Chen observed him closely for a moment, then let out a soft murmur of surprise. "His realm?" First layer of Foundation Establishment! And it seemed to still be steadily declining. Luo Chen remembered clearly that Miao Wen's cultivation had not been at the first layer. He had been around the initial stage of the third layer of Foundation Establishment—one step below Mi Shuhua, yet still one of the recognized powerhouses in Dahe Market back then. Reason dictated that even if he had made poor progress over forty years, his cultivation might not have increased by much, but it certainly shouldn't have fallen backwards! Luo Chen's gaze shifted thoughtfully. "Is it because he lived in Yuanmagnetic Valley for so long without spiritual energy to nourish him?" "Or could it be..." Suddenly, Luo Chen's gaze locked onto Miao Wen, whose body had begun to tremble violently within the valley. Visibly to the naked eye, wisps of black, almost tangible yin qi seeped out from his body. As the yin qi was expelled, a glimmer of clarity seemed to return to his turbid eyes. Yet before long, like swallows returning to their nest, those strands of yin qi plunged back into his flesh. Like maggots clinging to bone, impossible to purge! Once the yin qi returned, agony and struggle surfaced in his eyes once more. Luo Chen frowned. That yin qi felt very familiar! Bai Meiling possessed a similar aura of yin qi. However, compared to the yin qi that composed Bai Meiling's ethereal body, the energy lingering on Miao Wen was far denser and more concentrated, feeling as though it belonged to an entirely higher order. "The yin qi of a Tier 3 Ghost King?" The thought flashed through Luo Chen's mind. In a daze of memory, he seemed to see Dahe Market all those years ago, when the three Ghost Kings broke free and endless yin qi swallowed the inner city. That battle had been catastrophic! Cultivators of the Luoyun Sect had shattered the market's formations and released three Ghost Kings. Golden Core master Linghu Jie had employed puppetry arts to manipulate the three Ghost Kings, surrounding and striking down the Sword Sect's elder, Pang Renxiong. A single clash had decimated Dahe Market's inner city. In the end, what had once been a thriving inner city was turned into an utter ghost domain. Among the thousands of rogue cultivators within, survivors were few and far between. Only the disciples of several external major sects had survived under deliberate protection. The rest—even Elder Pang Renxiong of the Sword Sect and True Disciple Luo Tianhong—had fallen there. Luo Chen had even, at one point, controlled a ghost general spawned from Luo Tianhong's remnant soul. He had not expected Miao Wen to have survived that catastrophe. "Though by the looks of it, he's living a fate worse than death." Luo Chen shook his head and ceased hiding his presence. Having confirmed that the other party posed no threat, he descended into Yuanmagnetic Valley of his own accord. Upon entering, the environment—where spiritual energy was so thin as to be virtually nonexistent—made Luo Chen deeply uncomfortable. Yet his eyes immediately fixed on Miao Wen, who had grown wildly agitated at his arrival, his face contorting through a flurry of cruel, furious, despairing, and panicked expressions. "Hrrgh... awoo..." Listening to the meaningless grunts and wails escaping his lips, Luo Chen sighed. "To think you are living in such torment. It puts me in an awkward position regarding our past grievances." "Still, the yin qi on you will be of great use to me." "Very well. Allow me to grant you release!" Seeing that Miao Wen was preparing to flee, Luo Chen raised his hand and cast out a long banner. "Xiao Ling, deploy the Soul-Confusing Grand Formation!" "Yes, Master!" Bai Meiling's crisp cry echoed from within the banner. The banner planted itself into the ground, and with it as the epicenter, wave after wave of dark mist rolled outward, enveloping the entire Yuanmagnetic Valley. Amidst the black mist, Luo Chen flicked his wrist once more. A battered, ancient bronze mirror floated forth. Spiritual light flickered across the bronze mirror, engulfing Miao Wen's figure in the blink of an eye. Luo Chen's hands rapidly formed incantation seals, murmuring under his breath as his spiritually attuned eyes gazed deeply upon the panicked, howling, beast-like Miao Wen. "Mirror Flower, Water Moon, guide the soul into the dream. Let ghosts and gods interrogate the heart, clearly reflecting one's true mind!" "Break!" With a soft shout, Miao Wen, who was locked in eye contact with Luo Chen, froze completely. His body went limp, and he slumped down, sitting cross-legged on the ground. From within the Ghost-God Heart-Questioning Mirror, the ringing hum of a sword suddenly chimed. "We sword cultivators remain unhindered by external things; our loyalty must belong to the blade alone!" ... Inside a small courtyard, a youth was led forward to have his spirit roots tested. After a long silence, a cultivator inside the courtyard spoke impassively. "Three spirit roots of metal, water, and earth. Below-average aptitude. Unfit for entry." The youth fell to his knees with a thud, his expression resolute. "This disciple, Miao Wen, is willing to serve the Sword Sect's disciples as an odd-job servant, if only I may remain on Mount Yuhuang!" "Ah, forget it, Senior Brother. Let us give him a chance!" The youth was permitted to stay. Every day, he swept and cleaned. In his spare time, he practiced the sword techniques of the Sword Sect's outer gate. Ten years passed in this manner until he drew qi into his body, reaching the fourth layer of Qi Refinement to finally step through the Sword Sect's threshold as an official outer disciple. Even after becoming an outer disciple, menial chores remained abundant, but he never abandoned his cultivation. Day in and day out without pause, he practiced the sword for several decades. Eventually, during the Qi Refinement disciple tournament, his refined sword skill combined with an unyielding temperament caught the eye of an inner elder, who granted him an exceptional promotion to the inner gate. Entering the inner gate should have been a joyous occasion. It signified hope along the Dao! Yet the sudden change of surroundings also meant a change in the people around him. No longer surrounded by the mediocre, drift-along crowd of the outer gate, he was now among prodigies who cultivated relentlessly and possessed exceptional natural talent. Against their brilliance, Miao Wen seemed smaller and smaller. The so-called perseverance and hard work he took pride in were things the others possessed as well. He had thought that with three times the effort, he could catch up to those dual spirit roots and Heavenly Spirit Roots. Yet not only was catching up out of reach, but under the close guidance of sect elders, those geniuses worked just as hard as he did, their mental fortitude no weaker than his. Blows rained down upon his daily cultivation one after another. His advancing age meant that his hopes of Foundation Establishment grew increasingly faint. When the Sword Sect's grand tournament—held once every sixty years—arrived, Miao Wen entered the fray as a ninth-layer Qi Refinement cultivator. Yet he suffered defeat after defeat under the blades of his peers, the geniuses he lived alongside every day. Defeat itself was not terrifying. What was terrifying was that he failed to secure a quota for Foundation Establishment. Coupled with the fact that he had passed the optimal age window for Foundation Establishment, the Sword Sect's resources naturally ceased to lean toward him. Once again, he was returned to the outer gate. Having been promoted from the outer gate as a rare exception, he had once been a legend, revered and admired by countless outer disciples. Yet returning in such a disgraced, dejected state, the eyes watching him became unbearable. "True geniuses exist in this world, and the so-called 'genius of hard work' is a lie. True geniuses work just as hard, for only hard work can convert potential into power, turning a prodigy into a true powerhouse." "From the moment my spirit roots were tested in that courtyard, I had already lost completely." The night he returned to the outer gate, Miao Wen grew utterly disheartened. Although he continued to cultivate out of habit thereafter, it was nothing more than habit. His mind was no longer focused on the sword. Instead, it shifted toward scheming, curry-favoring, power, and wealth. After all, the world outside the Jade Cauldron Sword Sect taught him that the way of the sword was not the only path. And so it went, until the year he turned eighty, when he managed by sheer stroke of luck to acquire a Foundation Establishment Pill from an inner disciple who had no use for it. Good fortune did not stop there. Relying on that single Foundation Establishment Pill, he defied his unsuitable age and succeeded in establishing his foundation in one go! After establishing his foundation, his conviction only deepened. The sword was not the only path; one could attain the Great Dao through other means just as well! As a Foundation Establishment True Cultivator, the Sword Sect offered special treatment. Regardless of age, he could have retained the status of an inner disciple. Yet Miao Wen declined the inner disciple title, choosing instead to become an outer deacon—a role others looked down upon as mere subservient drudgery. Subsequently, he began taking charge of numerous outer gate affairs. From sect administrative duties to managing businesses in neighboring markets, he eventually earned the sect's trust and was posted abroad to oversee a Yuding Sword Pavilion on his own. Dahe Market was the farthest and most dangerous posting of his life. Yet to him, it was also the most fitting land of opportunity! There, he befriended the stationed cultivators of external superior sects, won over local rogue cultivator factions, and amassed resources and wealth. He had even obtained several kinds of heaven-and-earth spiritual herbs capable of extending life. The Six-Leaf Heavenly Emperor Lotus presented by Mi Shuhua of the Mountain Breaker Gang was one of them. Using these longevity-extending herbs, he cleared channels with the sect's upper echelons, enabling him to remain stationed in Dahe Market for the long term. Thereafter, his efforts to amass wealth grew ever swifter and bolder! "Once I have earned enough resources to reach the Great Perfection of Foundation Establishment, I will return to the sect, pick a Tier 2 high-grade grotto-heaven, and cultivate in seclusion for a century. Before my lifespan expires, I might even take a shot at the Golden Core stage!" Such was Miao Wen's grand vision. And indeed, he had very nearly grasped the opportunity to bring that dream to fruition. Danchenzi, Luo Chen! An alchemist who had risen unexpectedly from the ranks of rogue cultivators. He represented boundless wealth! Alas, an unforeseen battle ruined everything. Inside the bronze mirror. Miao Wen, Luo Tianhong, and others operated the grand formation on Pang Renxiong's orders, desperately resisting the three Ghost Kings. In the end, the formation shattered, and its defenders perished! Luo Tianhong died on the spot. Miao Wen was critically wounded. Yet, thanks to his years of managing Dahe Market and his thorough familiarity with the inner city, he managed by sheer luck to escape that ghost domain. During his flight, however, the shattered yin qi of a Ghost King broken by Pang Renxiong invaded his body. Already grievously wounded, the lingering consciousness of the Ghost King within the yin qi battered his mind, overwhelming his senses. In a daze, he fled to a location his subconscious deemed exceptionally safe. Yuanmagnetic Valley on Jueyun Mountain. "As long as I nurse my injuries here, I can return to the Sword Sect and report what happened in Dahe Market. Perhaps it will even count as a great service." Yet this period of recovery dragged on for decades. Instead of healing, his condition only worsened. How terrifying was the Ghost King that had been suppressed beneath Dahe Market for centuries! Driven by an instinctual desire to survive, that remnant consciousness waged an ongoing struggle against Miao Wen for control of his body. Even a mere sliver of its consciousness was more than Miao Wen could withstand. "If only... if only I had continued to hone my sword cultivation and attained the realm of Lucid Sword Heart during Foundation Establishment, what could a mere sliver of a Ghost King's consciousness have done to me?" "Regrets... oh, how I regret my past choices..." Murmuring, turbid tears leaked from the corners of Miao Wen's tightly shut eyes. A black halo wrapped around his soul. "Mirror Flower, Water Moon, dispel!" Crack... The water mirror shattered; the flower and moon dissolved. The old man slowly opened his eyes, staring at his hands with a complicated expression. The calluses from sword practice were long gone. Decades of pampered living—even through forty years of mental chaos—had allowed his Foundation Establishment cultivation to preserve the fair, smooth skin beneath the layer of grime. He lifted his head, looking at the tall man standing before him holding the bronze mirror. There was an unfamiliar air about him, yet the face was familiar enough that for a moment, he could not be certain. "You are... Luo..." "Deacon Miao, it has been a long time. Luo Chen offers his greetings." Luo Chen glanced at the Ghost-God Heart-Questioning Mirror, which had developed three new cracks, stored it into his Accumulating Thunder Ring, and then bowed in a Daoist greeting to the utterly feeble Miao Wen. Miao Wen parted his lips. In his weakened state, he could no longer extend his spiritual sense to gauge Luo Chen's realm. Yet the distinct impression that the man before him could snuff out his life with a casual flick of a finger was unmistakable. He gave a bitter smile and suddenly asked, "What year is it?" "Year 3449 of the Shanhai Calendar," Luo Chen replied. Miao Wen froze, his body swaying. "Forty years have passed already...?" Murmuring, he looked up at Luo Chen once more, hesitating as if wanting to speak. Seeming to understand what he wanted to ask, Luo Chen said unhurriedly, "Pang Renxiong died in that battle, and Dahe Market became a Ghost City. Yet he did not perish entirely; his remnant spirit and resentful soul entered the ghost path, turning him into a Tier 3 Ghost King." "I knew Elder Pang wouldn't die so easily. He had already attained the Lucid Sword Heart when he established his foundation; even upon death, he could convert to the ghost path." "Lucid Sword Heart?" Luo Chen raised an eyebrow. He had also learned of this concept earlier through the manifestations of Miao Wen's memories in the Ghost-God Heart-Questioning Mirror. Miao Wen nodded, dropping the topic to ask about other matters. Luo Chen saw no harm in it, selecting several major events that had transpired in the Jade Cauldron Domain over the years to share with him. He spoke of Supreme Elder Han Zhan of the Luoyun Sect breaking through to become a Nascent Soul Perfected Person, sparking a war between the great sects, and other such developments. Listening to these tales, a complex emotion surfaced in Miao Wen's eyes. There was longing, yet also a hint of fear. In the end, however, an expression of calm acceptance settled over his face. "You and I were never on friendly terms." "Back then, I used harsh, probing words to pry into the basest corner of your heart. Today, you used a heart-questioning treasure to help me find my true self." "Repaying malice with kindness is hardly your style, Luo Chen." "And given that you spoke so frankly of these matters... I imagine my death is certain." Luo Chen pressed his lips together, studying the man intently. After a moment, he smiled freely. "You guessed correctly." It was a candid admission of his murderous intent. In the past, Miao Wen might have groveled and begged for mercy. Yet after enduring forty years of a living hell, now that he had regained full clarity, he had already seen through it all. "To tell the truth, whether you kill me or not, with my soul in its current state, I don't have more than a couple of years left to live anyway. Enduring the possession of a Ghost King's remnant soul is no easy feat." He smiled faintly and said to Luo Chen, "Since you didn't kill me outright and went through so much trouble to awaken me, there must be something on me you need!" Luo Chen nodded. He made no attempt to test the waters with roundabout talk. "I need the exceptionally pure yin qi inside your body!" "The Ghost King's origin yin qi?" Miao Wen paused. Then, his gaze caught sight of the timid young girl drifting amidst the nearby black mist. Though her form was remarkably solid, appearing no different from an ordinary cultivator, the dense ghostly aura she emanated was unmistakable to someone of Miao Wen's experience. "For her?" "Yes." "If this girl obtains the Ghost King's origin yin qi within me, her path to ascending to the Tier 3 Ghost King realm will be smooth and clear." "She was also a rogue cultivator who died in Dahe Market's inner city back then." Miao Wen was taken aback, then shook his head with an emotional sigh. "Very well. Tell me what needs to be done. I will cooperate fully." "It is quite simple: a coordinated effort from within and without!" Luo Chen explained the method for extracting the yin qi to Miao Wen in detail. In truth, with his current abilities—whether using the Cleansing Art at Great Mastery or the Soul Intimidation Art—he had a certain degree of confidence in extracting the yin qi on his own. However, that yin qi was of an exceptionally high tier. If handled improperly, it might slip away. Furthermore, the remnant consciousness of the Ghost King was mixed within it. If Bai Meiling were to absorb it carelessly, unexpected dangers might arise. Therefore, he needed Miao Wen's cooperation to actively crush the Ghost King's consciousness from within. Only then could Bai Meiling safely and cleanly absorb that Tier 3 Ghost King's origin yin qi! Having wrestled with that consciousness for decades, Miao Wen naturally knew how to deal with it. Soon! Under their joint efforts, wisps of yin qi were drawn out from Miao Wen's body, flying toward Bai Meiling, who sat cross-legged beneath the Soul Nurturing Banner nearby. A single day flew by in the blink of an eye. Night fell upon the world. Only because they were within Yuanmagnetic Valley were there no wild beasts or demonic beasts to disturb them; otherwise, camping out in the wilderness so openly would have been exceedingly dangerous. Finally. Just as the sky hovered between dark and dawn, Miao Wen's body shuddered. The Ghost King's yin qi that had entrenched itself within him for decades was completely and thoroughly purged. Bai Meiling, swaying as if intoxicated, murmured a few words to Luo Chen before diving back into the Soul Nurturing Banner. Watching Luo Chen stow the banner, Miao Wen—now weakened to the absolute extreme—held a look of disbelief in his eyes. During that full day and night of extracting the yin qi, he had glimpsed Luo Chen's true cultivation realm. "You are in the late Foundation Establishment stage?" Luo Chen did not conceal it, stating frankly, "Eighth layer of Foundation Establishment. Reaching the ninth layer will take at most ten years of steady refinement." Miao Wen opened his mouth. For a moment, words completely failed him. Beyond the ninth layer of Foundation Establishment, was it not attempting the Great Perfection, and then forming a Core? That was the grand dream he had spent his entire life fantasizing about. And Luo Chen was on the verge of achieving it so quickly? He was still so young! Just what kind of miraculous luck had he stumbled upon...? Yet, when Miao Wen saw the silver-streaked hair tied behind Luo Chen's head, his lips pressed tightly together. He knew Luo Chen's aptitude. A five-element spirit root, dozens or hundreds of times worse than his own. He also knew Luo Chen's background—someone with no backing to speak of in the cultivation world. Under such circumstances, for Luo Chen to reach this stage at this age... Recalling the major events of the Jade Cauldron Domain that Luo Chen had mentioned so casually earlier, spoken in an indifferent tone, yet as though he had been present for every single one... Finally, Miao Wen understood. There was no miraculous luck. It was simply that the other man had endured countless trials and hardships, accumulating his strength bit by bit until this day. Morning mist rolled over Yuanmagnetic Valley. The chilly moisture suddenly made the old man feel cold. Perhaps it was not the morning chill, but Luo Chen's gaze, slowly turning toward him, laden with killing intent. Miao Wen parted his lips and said softly, "Could you wait just a moment longer?" Luo Chen frowned. "A moment earlier, a moment later—what difference does it make?" Miao Wen looked down at his filth-encrusted body, then looked up at the dimming and brightening sky. It was as if he had returned to that time before dawn, when he was just a youth holding a broom, sweeping away fallen leaves and dust along the mountain path. "If I go down below looking like this and my fellow disciples see me, I'm afraid they will laugh at me again." Luo Chen fell silent. ... Atop the peak of Jueyun Mountain. White clouds drifted lazily on a gentle breeze. Below the mountain, the roars of beasts echoed, and the wind rustled through the pines like surging waves. In the distance, the Lancang River surged endlessly, unchanging across ten thousand years. A crimson sun, like an egg yolk, leaped through the cloud bank and steadily climbed into the sky. Refreshed, his long hair neatly tied and his beard trimmed, Miao Wen rested his withered yet clean hands upon his knees, gazing earnestly at the sunrise. When the morning sun fully emerged, a faint curve appeared at the corner of his lips. Then, the light in his eyes gradually faded, and his head slowly slumped forward. Standing beside him, Luo Chen held a jade slip in his right hand and the storage pouch whose spiritual restriction the other man had willingly dispelled before dying. He watched the scene in silence. A long time later. A wisp of azure flame fell upon the old man's body, reducing it to a heap of ashes. With a sweep of his wide sleeve, Luo Chen gathered the ashes and soared into the sky. As he passed over the Lancang River, he spread his hand and scattered them to the wind. "Farewell, fellow Daoist!"