The evening wind echoed through the courtyard, rustling withered leaves that drifted through the air. In the dim, flickering candlelight sat a middle-aged woman. Her features were not exceptionally striking, yet she carried an air of easy grace as she leaned against a stone table.
A servant standing below bowed deferentially and said with trembling apprehension, "We inquired with the young master. He claims the climate of Eastern Shanyue is pleasant, and he is unwilling to return."
Lu Wanrong shook her head helplessly, letting out a soft sigh. Her voice was gentle as she said, "Do I not know him? He is merely seeking shamanic arts in Eastern Shanyue... trying to open a spirit aperture. But his father has not returned for so long, and I have no sway over him either."
Li Xuanling had taken only her as his wife, never once taking a concubine, and she had borne him two children. The siblings had completely different temperaments. The elder sister, Li Qinghong, was bright and spirited, already at the third layer of Qi Refinement. The second child, Li Yuanyun, had no spirit aperture and remained completely obscure, his demeanor growing darker by the day.
Watching the change in Li Yuanyun, Lu Wanrong was filled with anxiety. She had brought it up to Li Xuanling several times, but whenever he spoke of this legitimate son, he always preferred to let him be, so long as he brought no harm to others...
She was an intuitive woman, and she could inexplicably sense a lingering guilt in her husband. He was always unusually lenient with Li Yuanyun, which left her at a loss.
Years ago, when she had carried Yuanyun up the mountain, Li Tongya's overwhelming aura had made her tremble so badly she dared not lift her head. Yet the other members of the Xuan generation—whether Li Xuanfeng or Li Xuanxuan—had always treated Li Yuanyun remarkably well.
*Perhaps I am overthinking it.*
Lu Wanrong shook her head, banishing the thought, and asked in a low voice, "What is the news from the market?"
"Reporting to Madam, the word has come back from the market. To this day... there is still no news of the Third Master."
Lu Wanrong was now nearly forty years old. Her talent was mediocre, and her cultivation remained merely at the third layer of Embryonic Breathing, leaving her unable to keep pace with her husband. Furthermore, because her surname was sensitive, she had never dared acquire property or take power, always keeping a low profile. But now that Li Xuanling had been gone for three whole months without returning, she could no longer hold back her worry.
Her grip tightened around the jade cup in her hand. Anxiety clouded her brow as she said gravely, "Three full months without a single word... My husband has always been cautious. Something must have happened... What did they say on the mountain?"
With a thud, the servant dropped to his knees and whispered, "Reporting to Madam, Mount Lijing has been placed under complete lockdown from top to bottom. People of our lowly standing cannot even see the young master."
Lu Wanrong's heart skipped a beat, and a heavy unease welled within her. She hurriedly fetched ink and brush, writing with swift strokes as she muttered, "No, something is definitely wrong. I must ask Qinghong."
***
Li Xuanling had crossed the river once more. After weaving through the sea of clouds for a time, he stopped a few people to ask for directions, confirmed the heading to Mount Luoxia, and rode the wind at a leisurely pace, occasionally descending to travel on foot. The journey was calm and uneventful.
This path ran through Daxu, where Daoist temples still dominated the surroundings. Li Xuanling checked his bearings; after winding about, he had actually arrived near Mount Bianyan. It was now the borderland between the Xiuyue Sect and the Tangjin Sect. The once-barren wilderness was already sprouting tender green vegetable shoots, looking quite pleasant in the misty rain. Travelers walked the road as well, lending the place a touch of bustle.
*The Xiuyue Sect is, after all, the most upright of the three sects. That is truly rare...*
The Xiuyue Sect was one of the few among the Three Sects and Seven Gates that still upheld the ancient ideal of the Immortal Mansion: secluding oneself from the mortal world to achieve immortality. Most of its disciples cultivated on the mountain and rarely ventured into the secular realm, so none possessed great fame. Aside from Master Shangyuan, who was hailed as foremost beneath the Golden Core, the rest of the Xiuyue Sect's figures were completely obscure, virtually unknown to the outside world.
*Mount Bianyan... There seemed to be a Daoist temple here. Back then, it was coerced by a monster and forced to collect young boys and girls for it to devour. I wonder how it fares now.*
Under the rule of the Xiuyue Sect, sectarian strife between lineages was strictly forbidden. Small clans and temple sects dotted the peaks. Even though covert schemes, exterminations, and false accusations still took place every year, leading inevitably to annexations and murders, the competition was far gentler than in other regions.
Li Xuanling wandered in this area for a while, gazing at the drifting mountain mist and drizzling rain as he recalled the Daoist temple he had seen when he came to slay the monster years ago. He thought to himself:
*That Purple Palace master bade me go to Mount Luoxia, but gave no deadline...*
Though Li Xuanling was no coward who clung greedily to life and had already accepted this arrangement, he still wished to live a few days longer, to see more of this world and its mortal lands. He pondered:
*Riding the wind all this way has depleted some of my magic power. I might as well visit this small temple, rest my feet, and then head north.*
With that, he descended on the wind. The world was at peace now, and the small shrine that had once been thoroughly hidden by an illusion array now stood openly in plain sight. On either side, stone statues stood with solemn dignity, rainwater dripping wetly from their faces and trickling down their cheeks. Li Xuanling formed a spell gesture and knocked lightly on the reddish-gray wooden doors affixed with peachwood charms, calling out with a smile:
"A wandering cultivator of the mountains has come to pay a visit. I ask the temple master to open the gate!"
Li Xuanling called twice, but received no reply. A flicker of alarm stirred in his heart. As he hesitated, raising his hand once more, the reddish-gray doors slowly swung open on their own.
*Creak—*
Without any wind, the temple doors slowly parted. The morning breeze carried the fresh scent of rain into the hall. Li Xuanling halted silently, staring blankly at the scene inside.
Outside the courtyard, a gentle drizzle fell and white cranes cried; inside the hall, all was gloomy darkness, lit only by dim yellow candlelight. A strange scent of burning incense mingled with a sickening stench of blood, rushing out to assail his senses.
Dark blood pooled across the floor, reflecting flecks of gold light. Statues of wood and clay stood in dignified solemnity, yet beneath them lay a disorderly tangle of corpses. A headless body of an old Daoist knelt before the shrine, his gray hair strewn across the floor, drifting faintly in the breeze.
The central prayer mat was buried under a heap of Daoist corpses. Stacked high in a disorderly pile, their eyes were opened wide and round, yet not the slightest trace of resentment lingered on them; instead, they bore an eerie look of serene peace.
At the summit of this mountain of corpses sat a bare-chested monk, legs crossed in quiet meditation. His muscles were lean, taut, and crimson, every line sharply defined. His palms were pressed together, his eyes closed in deep contemplation, and between his brows shone a golden-yellow mark that pulsed without ceasing.
Severed limbs and mangled flesh covered the gilded talismans across the floor. Blood dripped down from the soaked red Daoist silks, pattering rhythmically against the monk's nearly flawless muscular physique. He seemed entirely oblivious, remaining stone-still.
"Fahui..."
This was the very monk who, more than ten days ago when Li Xuanling was passing through Duanchen Township in the State of Zhao, had rushed forward without rhyme or reason to entangle him in relentless battle. Now, a soaring blood aura billowed around him, his aura churning erratically as he sat crossed-legged atop the mountain of corpses, drenched in fresh blood.
Fahui's ears twitched. His resolute face was caked with dried blood. His eyelids fluttered twice before slowly opening. His pupils were a sea of gold and red, blazing with scorching wrath, as he silently fixed his gaze on Li Xuanling below.
"Vile serpent beast, I have waited for you for a long time!"
Chapter 294