Minghui looked at Jinlian Maha, who wore a dazed expression as though he had stepped out of another lifetime, and immediately formed a deduction in his heart:
*It seems that Immortal let him off. Otherwise, how could Master have escaped so easily? That Immortal most likely does not want anyone to know he is playing a hand at Lake Wangyue, which is why he wiped Master's memories. If I fail to recognize what is good for me and say too much, I fear neither master nor disciple will survive.*
With Jinlian Maha looking utterly bewildered, Minghui pointed at the battered golden palace and said respectfully, "Disciple's Dharma artifact was damaged outside, so I returned to ask Master to take a look and see if there is any way to repair it."
After repeated battering, the golden palace below the dais was already tottering on the verge of collapse. Jinlian Maha glanced at it and snapped, "I am no artifact-forging master! What use is showing it to me? Get your ass back and watch the south!"
Minghui nodded repeatedly, put away the Dharma artifact, and retreated as if fleeing for his life. Jinlian Maha continued sucking milk with half-closed eyes. A few breaths later, he felt something was amiss:
*What is this boy hiding from me...?*
No matter how hard he tried, Jinlian Maha could not recall what had just happened. It was as if he had taken a nap. But he was already a Maha—how could he take a nap? The motion of his mouth stopped at once, and a creeping terror settled in his mind.
***
Atop Yishan City.
Li Xuanfeng leaned against the battlements, silently wiping the gold bow in his hands. His grey robe was splattered with the blood of various demon beasts, tattered and reeking of foul gore. He took no notice, staring blankly toward the north.
"Brother Xuanfeng..."
The people nearby all glanced at him. A handsome middle-aged man stepped forward. What should have been an elegant white robe was stained with specks of blood, looking rather disheveled. He cupped his hands toward Li Xuanfeng and said respectfully, "We owe you a great debt this time!"
Li Xuanfeng was now at the eighth layer of Qi Refinement, and his strength was evident to all among the family cultivators. The others held both awe and fear toward this reticent man. The moment Fei Yihe spoke, the crowd chimed in one after another.
"Indeed, indeed... What a divine bow! What divine strength!"
"Charging in and out of the beast horde nine times—only Brother Xuanfeng could accomplish such a feat!"
Li Xuanfeng nodded silently. These past five years had made him look increasingly weathered: stubble covered his chin, and his eye sockets were deeply sunken, giving him a thoroughly haggard appearance. Paying no mind to the flattering crowd, he merely stared northward. Only when the others looked at each other and slowly dispersed—even Fei Yihe took his leave and walked down from the wall—did his lips part as he looked at the wounds on his hands.
"One hundred and twenty scars in five years, yet not a single one was fatal."
Ever since Lixia Commandery fell and Jiang Yunu and their son perished, Li Xuanfeng had awakened inexplicably from nightmares on countless nights, asking himself:
*Why did I not go see them once in five years?*
During those five years, he had been in closed-door cultivation to compile his bow techniques, but it had by no means been a death-seclusion. A Qi Refinement cultivator did not need to eat, yet still required water. In the spare moments between cultivation, his inspiration had surged like an unceasing torrent, causing him to toss everything else to the back of his mind.
Regret and self-blame had haunted him like vengeful ghosts, tormenting him for ten years and repeatedly jolting him awake. With a heart full of anxious torment, he would close his eyes and sigh deeply, loathing how carried away he had become and how he could have forgotten such matters.
It was not until Xiao Chuting used his divine ability "Old Man on the Brook" to hook Yu Yufeng and ambushed and killed him on the Xunlin Plain that Li Xuanfeng was struck with sudden dread. Suspicion had sprouted in his heart, kept buried within and unspoken:
*What if a Purple Palace cultivator covets something and used a divine ability to bewilder me...?*
He picked up a cloth and continued wiping the gold bow, his expression growing darker. Staring silently at the moon rising into the sky, he thought:
*If so, that Purple Palace cultivator's eyes must be on me. The family's magical mirror is far too important; coming to Yishan City might lower the risk.*
When he first heard he was being drafted to Yishan City, he had gone willingly. On one hand, he yearned for a life walking on the edge of a blade; on the other, he hoped to draw the gaze of that potential Purple Palace cultivator away from Mount Lijing. Now that he was in Yishan City, having fought countless battles over the past five years, everyone else had suffered wounds of varying degrees that damaged their foundations—yet Li Xuanfeng had never once been severely injured. This only made his heart sink deeper into gloom.
"Brother Xuanfeng!"
Hearing a clear call, Li Xuanfeng turned his head. Fei Yihe had returned, having changed into a moon-white robe. Carrying a flagon of spiritual wine in one hand, he walked over with a smile and said, "Brother Xuanfeng, you are admiring the moon alone. I hope you do not mind me joining in."
Fei Yihe was the son of Fei Wangbai, originally slated to be the next family head of the Fei family, but Chi Zhiyan had drafted him to Nanjiang. Their two clans had close relations through generations, and over these five years atop Yishan City, Li Xuanfeng and Fei Yihe had formed a deep bond of friendship.
Fei Yihe took a low table from his storage bag, placed it upon the city wall, and sat down cross-legged. A faint white light immediately rose from the table, softly sealing out the surrounding wind and cutting off the interior from the outside.
"Sigh."
Fei Yihe let out a low sigh. Only with the barrier isolating them did a look of sorrow and bitterness appear on his face. Pouring the wine to the brim, he drank a cup himself and said, "Five years passed in the blink of an eye. Tongyu and Tongxiao should be taking wives by now. I wonder how things are on the lake."
Those atop Yishan City were forbidden from communicating with the outside world. The two of them could only glean bits of news from newcomers arriving from the rear, completely cut off from their clans.
"Good wine!"
Li Xuanfeng merely took a cup and downed several in one breath. Only then did he exhale through clenched teeth and murmur, "Yu Yufeng is already dead. With the Foundation Establishment cultivators of our two families present, Yu Mugao cannot cause any major trouble."
Fei Yihe nodded silently. The two fell quiet, exchanging cups and toasting in silence. By the time the moon sank low and the sky grew dim with early dawn, Fei Yihe said in a stifled voice, "I thought I was born to lead my clan and expand our family... Since childhood, I read history, cultivated, observed human nature, learned right from wrong, and forged ties to keep the various branches in check. Who would have thought that a single draft order would render the rest of my life an empty void?"
Li Xuanfeng drank a cup, took a step forward, and looked down from the city wall. Below, the ground was strewn with the corpses of demon beasts, with the mutilated bodies of cultivators occasionally visible. Most numerous were the corpses of mortal soldiers used as cannon fodder. Mortal laborers dragged them away like ants amid puddles of blood, while flies buzzed incessantly.
Everything before his eyes was all too familiar. Li Xuanfeng could not help but reminisce.
*Was it forty years ago, or thirty years ago?*
Back then, Li Xiangping had been hunted down by rogue cultivators and fled north. Li Xuanxuan had taken charge of the household for the first time, and he himself was just a child who had only recently received the Xuanzhu talisman seed. Slipping past the clan members, he had stumbled his way to the Wan family, only to find them slaughtered by Ji Dengqi—corpses strewn everywhere in a pool of blood.
Terrified, he had luckily found Li Tongya, who had returned. Full of indignation, he had sworn secretly:
*This Tangjin Sect and its damn young master are absolute bastards. When this young master grows up, I will slaughter the Tangjin Sect and shoot off that young master's head to kick around like a ball!*
The tender voice of his youth still echoed in his ears, filling Li Xuanfeng with shame. His hands gripped the gold bow so tightly that his palms turned red, and he murmured:
"The wild, arrogant ambitions of my youth—bow never leaving my hands, knees never bending, boasting of breaking immortal mountains and shooting down the master of Tangjin with an arrow... In the blink of an eye, forty years have flowed past like water, nothing more than a golden millet dream. My wife and child are dead, and I am reduced to a pawn, living in mediocrity, confined within a single city—a beast of burden for Qingchi, a mere weapon for an immortal sect. In the dead of night, I slip outside to choke back tears, not even daring to weep aloud, fearful only of drawing suspicion..."
His sharp brow furrowed, its raised edges smoothing out. His deeply sunken eyes shed trickling tears that ran down his cheeks. The haughty, wild arrogance that Li Xuanfeng had carried since childhood, worn away over forty years, condensed into a long sigh that escaped from his nose and lips, vanishing without a trace.
Li Xuanfeng coughed, spitting out flecks of blood. Fei Yihe hurriedly rose to support him, only to see the exhaustion etched into his features; in the way he looked about, he now bore several shades of resemblance to his elder brother, Li Xuanxuan.
Chapter 284