52 - A Farewell to Mr. Luo

Chapter 52 A tall and a short person stood before the Illusion Sword Pavilion, occasionally with disciples from the pavilion passing by. Their eyes locked in a glare, but eventually, White Fan thought to herself, "Why am I bothering with a child?" Deciding she couldn't be bothered with Virtual Zhu, she turned around and left briskly, her sleeves fluttering, leaving no trace of her presence behind. Originally anticipating a fight, Virtual Zhu had prepared himself to clash with White Fan but was left stunned when she simply walked away. In a fluster, he called out, "Where are you going?" "Back to my cave." "You can't leave; I haven't finished talking." "Well, you can speak now." "First, stop!" White Fan continued ahead, while Virtual Zhu hollered as he trailed behind her. However, White Fan had no desire to wait around; she was intent on returning for a bath and then figuring out what to do with the Dragon Spirit. "Are you feeling guilty?" Virtual Zhu asked, eyebrows furrowing as he caught up to White Fan. "I'm not guilty of anything." "Then why are you running?" "I'm going back to rest." "What does a cultivator need rest for?" Unwilling to tolerate his pestering any longer, White Fan quickened her pace, disappearing in a flash, leaving the youngster shouting behind her. "Don't run! Come back and apologize to my senior brother!" White Fan had already run so far that there was a question of whether she could even hear him. She returned to her cave, leaving her twin sisters outside, and sat down to immediately enter the dream realm. Perhaps due to the Dragon Spirit, the once desolate dream realm was now filled with mist, becoming lush and vaporous. White Fan slithered next to the Dragon Spirit, nearly getting lost in its enchanting colors. The fragrance and purity radiating from the Dragon Spirit were as enticing as millennia-aged wine—just a sip would be enough to delight her for a lifetime. Nevertheless, White Fan knew the consequences of absorbing this entity in one go. Such an immense volume of information and memories, spanning tens of thousands of years, would flood her mind. Her mere decades of memories would be overwhelmed. She would cease to be herself, becoming merely a vessel with dragon memories, losing her sense of self. Circling the Dragon Spirit, White Fan entwined her serpentine body around its surface, akin to a piece of exquisite jade. A glance at the Dragon Dan revealed that it showed no signs of recovery—proof that the Dragon Slayer Sword had indeed struck a vital point. The Dragon Dan was essentially defunct, but its contents remained within the dream realm. Perched on the Dragon Spirit, White Fan decided it should be safe to absorb a little. With a forceful inhale, she sucked a wisp of the Dragon Spirit's essence into her mouth. The sensation was akin to drinking old wine, and she momentarily felt dazed. Her body, initially coiled around the Dragon Spirit, collapsed, falling into a grassy patch as if dead. Her head felt muddied, with her consciousness trapped in a dark corner. In this place, White Fan experienced no fear, only a stretching sense of waiting. After what seemed like an eternity, she felt the presence of her body again, reminiscent of when she was inside the snake egg. Upon struggling out of the small space, she found herself in a void, surrounded by chaos. The small space was merely an eggshell. White Fan pondered whether she had acquired true dragon memories, and indeed, she realized these were the recollections of the Dragon breaking its shell. Seeing the chaos around, White Fan understood that dragons were born of chaos, without parents, purely the result of fate. Yet, her limbs seemed out of her control. She merely observed the dragon's life memories as a bystander. After emerging from the shell, the true Dragon opened a new space. At that moment, something imprinted itself into White Fan’s mind, but she couldn’t discern what it was—was it the ability to effortlessly cleave open space? From chaos, the true Dragon emerged into the world. Surveying the entire world, it let out a thunderous roar, like announcing its birth to the universe. Such grandeur could only belong to a divine beast. White Fan herself had never roared with such unchecked wildness before. Experiencing it now made her blood surge, cheering for it. White Fan sensed the world’s affection and care for the Dragon, with endless spirit energy soaring in from all directions, infusing the Dragon’s body. The small Dragon quickly grew into a ten-meter-long form. Its four claws stepped on clouds, twisting its tail, darting through the sky. The dragon horns peeking through the clouds made its form even more mysterious. Surprisingly, this dragon, like White Fan, was covered in delicate white scales. Compared to her snake scales, the Dragon's scales were exquisite, each embodying different mysteries, clearly indicating it was a favored creation of the universe. As White Fan reveled in this rare experience, the sky abruptly changed. A sharp sword descended, slicing off a peak, followed by a wave of red celestial fire scorching the once-green landscape below into a hell of smoke and screams. Countless creatures perished in the heavenly fire. The true Dragon, witnessing this disaster immediately after birth, was stunned. The previously soaring spirit of the Dragon was shattered; it was too weak, lacking the time to grow powerful enough to protect the world. Suddenly, a colossal hand emerged from the heavens, reaching for the Dragon, like trying to catch a fish in the mud. The fine lines on the palm were clearly visible to White Fan, amplifying her terror infinitely. What kind of entity could dismiss a true Dragon so easily? Slicing mountains with a sword, dropping celestial fire, leading to the destruction of life... White Fan awoke from the nightmare with a jolt, jumping up and gasping for breath, her heart pounding uncontrollably. "Terrifying," she muttered. Her eyes, still brimming with human fear, warily watched the Dragon Spirit. Overwhelmed, White Fan hurriedly left the dream realm. Realizing it was late, she prepared to sleep just as Ying Yue's voice echoed from outside, "Who are you? This is our master’s cave; you can't trespass." "I’m here to settle a score." "What score? Who are you? Don’t you know my master is the second disciple of Respected Zhenren? How dare a mere disciple like you make demands here." Ying Yue's disdainful tone reached White Fan’s ears. She expanded her spiritual sense and saw the troublemaker was Virtual Zhu. How had the boy found her? "So what if you're a direct disciple? Since when did our Xuanming disciples need to rely on our masters?" Virtual Zhu said, though his confidence wavered. "I don’t care! I demand White Fan apologize to my senior brother." Listening to the exchange, White Fan had no intention of going out; with Ying Yue handling it outside, she saw no need to waste words. Why should she apologize nonsensically? Lying down and propping her chin, White Fan closed her eyes to calm her nerves, rummaging in her storage pouch until she found a long, thin object—a red flute. She had picked it up at Wanfeng Terrace, but its owner was the recently missing Huo Yiman. Though she had often thought about returning it, the opportunity never arose. Now, with the flute's owner missing, and uncertain of their whereabouts, White Fan playfully twirled the flute. Made entirely of jade, it would be priceless in the mortal world, but no matter how exquisite, it remained a mundane object. As she turned the flute, White Fan pondered how Huo Yiman could achieve so much just by playing it. The opponent was merely a mortal. Were geniuses truly capable of anything? Meanwhile, the missing prodigy Huo Yiman wandered the mortal realm, her usually cold expression unaltered but noticeably weary. Entering a teahouse, she ordered a pot of water and slowly drank alone. Clutching her flute tightly, her grip on the cup tightened increasingly as she drank. After finishing her tea, the store attendant returned to refill her cup but found that the drinker had already left. On the table, a few copper coins lay alone. Huo Yiman held a handkerchief, her mind fixed on the task her master had given her upon leaving Fuyou Palace. Five years had passed, and she still hadn't found the location. When she heard about her master's self-detonation, she hadn’t cried—she couldn’t believe it was real. She had never considered the fate of Fuyou Palace because there were elders and a sect leader. How had such a large sect fallen so quickly? Now, her hatred wasn't directed at Pure Yang Palace but at those demonic cultivators who had invaded Fuyou Palace under the flag of rogue cultivators and slaughtered everyone. Currently, her top priority was to find her hunted junior sister, Bai Zhi, as she was the last hope of Fuyou Palace. Despite being considered a genius, Huo Yiman hadn’t mastered Fuyou Palace's spells; she remained an ordinary mortal. She couldn’t afford to fall; her master's task was incomplete, and her junior sister needed care. Wearing a light veil, Huo Yiman weaved through the crowd, her thoughts dwelling on where her junior sister might be. Unbeknownst to her, someone far away held her flute and was thinking about her. White Fan brought the red flute to her lips and attempted to play, but failing to produce music, she only managed gutteral noises, her cheeks puffed painfully as they blew, sounding like someone trying to provoke urination. "This thing is so hard! How did Huo Yiman learn to play it? Why bother with something so difficult?" Exasperated, White Fan nearly threw the flute to the ground, but then she heard Ying Yue sigh from outside. "Finally, that kid left. I need some tea; all that talking dried my mouth." White Fan rose from her cave and stepped outside, observing the scene. Huanri was using a bamboo rod to dangle a piece of meat above a small tortoise, which opened its mouth and slowly tried to bite the meat—a sight so tedious it made one drowsy. "Ah, Master, you've finished meditating!" Seeing White Fan, Huanri dropped the meat and rushed over, leaving the turtle to fend for itself. "Do you know how to play the flute?" "Pardon, Master?" "Never mind." White Fan, hands clasped behind her back, walked out of the cave, leaving Huanri looking puzzled. The days that followed were uneventful; White Fan mostly meditated, with little else to do, until a month later when a young attendant from Respected Zhenren arrived. "Second Senior Brother, Zhenren has called for you. It seems Elder Sun wants to see you." "Elder Sun?" White Fan was puzzled. Could this be about the Misty Forest incident? Had they seen through her story, and now wanted answers? Nervously, she followed the young attendant to Elder Sun's cave, different from Zhenren's usual abode. This was White Fan's first visit here; it was a fragrant, bird-filled paradise with flowing streams, akin to a cave behind a waterfall. They traversed through a waterfall, entering the cave. Despite expecting darkness, White Fan found it spacious, with a high viewpoint offering a panoramic view of Xuanming’s landscape. She admired the scenery, thinking it would be a pleasure to meditate here, witnessing the world's intricacies. Lost in the view, she heard the young attendant from behind, "You’ll have to proceed alone from here. Elder Sun is waiting inside." "Thank you." The attendant bowed and left, and White Fan climbed a stone staircase, finding the second floor wide and empty, except for Elder Sun seated on a cushion with another cushion beside him. Standing behind Elder Sun for a while, she saw he was meditating in silence. Her lower rank made her reluctant to interrupt, so she quietly waited. The cool breeze played with her clothes, making her look like a true young hero. Time passed, and she calmed down, her initial trepidation fading as she watched the scenery. "How do you find this place?" Elder Sun suddenly asked, eyes still closed. White Fan stepped forward and looked out, "Elder, I find it shows the world's myriad forms." "And what do you think of Xuanming since joining?" "Xuanming is a major sect in the southern continent, orderly and above the mundane, yet having transcended it. The disciples are harmonious, making it an ideal place for cultivation." Elder Sun opened his eyes, slowly stood up with his back to White Fan, and asked, "If Xuanming were to fall one day, what would you do?" Stunned, White Fan hesitated—Xuanming's fall seemed unimaginable. Even if it did fall, she doubted her abilities could contribute much. "Disciple..." "I heard about the Misty Forest from your master recently. The explanation was convincing but somewhat strained. There are only seven known powerful cultivators in this realm, all well-documented. The one you described couldn’t be identified." White Fan realized her fabrication had been discovered. Elder Sun turned to her, "What is your true intention for infiltrating Xuanming?" "Disciple has no ulterior motives, only the wish to join the sect." "Then why lie?" "Because that person had shown me kindness." White Fan gritted her teeth and confessed. The Fire Qilin had saved her, otherwise, she might still be struggling with her cultivation. "Who?" Elder Sun's eyes were sharp as swords, scrutinizing White Fan. Enduring his piercing gaze, White Fan dryly replied, "I cannot say." "A fine 'cannot say'? Not even to your master? Nor to me?" White Fan knelt down, "I beg Elder for understanding." "Hmph, you think Xuanming can tolerate such treachery? Believe me, I could kill you with a single strike." "Disciple is not..." Before she could finish, Elder Sun struck her chest powerfully, sending her flying, blood spurting from her mouth as her internal organs felt shattered. "I’ll spare you today. Reflect well for a month, then come back with answers. If you can't, leave Xuanming—you won’t be accepted here." "Elder..." Clutching her chest in pain, White Fan struggled to rise, the taste of blood overpowering. Before she could speak, Elder Sun brushed her away with a sleeve, sending her tumbling down to the first floor. The previously open path was now closed—he clearly didn’t want to see her again. Wiping the blood from her mouth, White Fan thought, "What trouble have I gotten myself into? This is a disaster." She had once roamed freely, but now suffered in the sect. She had been lax at Qingxu Sect, yet here, every day was a struggle. Angry, she left the cave, her mouth smeared with blood. The young attendant was shocked at her disheveled state, and White Fan tried to smile but winced in pain. "Second Senior Brother, are you alright?" "I'm fine. You can go back; don't tell Master about my injury." "But—" "Go." She left with the attendant, tidying herself up at the gate. "Do you really not need an escort, Second Senior Brother?" "No need. I can walk back myself." Walking slowly down the path alone, White Fan worried about what to do in a month. Could she reveal the Fire Qilin's identity? Would Xuanming hunt a divine beast if they knew? Countless worries filled her mind. Being expelled from the sect would make survival harder, with demonic cultivators rampant and many rogue cultivators seeking refuge in sects or clans. If she left, she couldn’t stay in the immortal city with the Sun family’s presence. Her cultivation alone wouldn’t ensure survival. As she pondered deeply, a shout came from behind, "Stop!" Hearing the voice, White Fan recognized the annoying kid. Already injured, she had no energy to deal with him and kept walking. "Didn't you hear me tell you to stop? Are you feeling guilty? Let me tell you, as long as you apologize to my senior brother, I won't pursue this any further." As he spoke, he reached out to tug on White Fan's sleeve. White Fan, already irritated, snapped, "Are you annoyed? Do you ever stop with your nagging?" "I told you, just apologize to my senior brother, and it will be over." "Apologize for what? What does your senior brother have to do with me? Does an apology mean he can win the top prize? How troublesome for a grown man." "No, you must apologize to him." Feeling an inexplicable anger rise within her, White Fan turned and yelled, "Get lost! I'm not in the mood to argue with you today." With a flick of her sleeve, she pushed Virtual Zhu away, causing him to fall on his bottom. Seeing his little face scrunched up, tears welling in his eyes, and lips trembling, he bawled, "You bully! I'm going to tell my master you hit me." White Fan, halfway through her departure, clenched her teeth, enduring the pain in her chest. She turned back, a dark expression etched on her face as she approached Virtual Zhu. "You say I bullied you, right? That I hit you, right? If you're going to report me, then go ahead. At least you'll stop bothering me every day. But first, I'll give you a beating." Grimacing as she spoke, her face was clouded with menace. Virtual Zhu, still sitting on the ground, glanced up at White Fan with a trembling body, genuinely feeling she might actually hit him. "If you dare to hit me, I'll tell my master and have you thrown into the Discipline Hall." White Fan spat out a mouthful of blood, nonchalant. "The Discipline Hall? I'm most familiar with it. A few beatings are nothing. I'll give you a good thrashing, let you lie in bed for a few years, and by then, I'll be out too." With that, she grabbed Virtual Zhu and started hitting him. After several blows, when her hand hurt, she switched arms and continued. Virtual Zhu's screams turned to pleas for mercy before White Fan let him go. She walked away, coughing softly and holding her chest, leaving a disdainful expression behind. Virtual Zhu, climbing to his feet after White Fan had left, burst into tears, his bruised face buried in his hands as he limped away. "I'm going to tell my senior brother you hit me," he wailed, hobbling back home. Returning to her cave, White Fan's face grew even paler. Seeing her condition, Ying Yue and her sister rushed to her. "Master, what happened to you?" "I got hurt. Do you have any painkillers?" "I only have bruise-healing pills." "Give them to me." "Where are you hurt, Master?" "The chest." "Let me take a look..." Ying Yue reached out to help, but White Fan quickly grabbed her own shirt. "No need. Just give me the pills. I'll be in seclusion for the next month. If anyone comes, tell them I'm in a death-closed seclusion. If my master's attendant arrives, say the same. And remember, don't mention my injury." "But, Master..." White Fan took the pills Ying Yue handed her and immediately went into the seclusion room, sealing the stone door tightly. ※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※ Thank you to those who voted for me or nourished me with nutrient fluids~ Thanks for nourishing [nutrient fluids]: Annoying, Republican Youth 10 bottles; Thank you all for your support, and I will continue to work hard! Previous Chapter Content Directory Next Chapter Home Computer Version Bookshelf Novel Directory Popular Novels