The mountains near Licheng stretched endlessly, verdant and cool even in the summer heat.
In certain peaks, the vegetation swayed as swarms of vibrantly colored insects darted through, covering the surfaces densely, sending chills down people’s spines. Just looking at them made one’s skin crawl.
These insects varied in appearance: some were hideous, others translucent and beautiful; some were as large as stones, while others were so small they were barely visible. Buzzing incessantly, they surged across the peaks in a vast tide, in shades of sapphire, crimson, sky blue, and ink green, sweeping the landscape in a relentless search.
Midair stood Wan Chong Zunzhe, his white hair like thin snakes, gazing down. His ancestral cavity between his eyebrows opened, his spiritual sense spreading and covering the area as he coordinated with the insects to locate Yuan Yang, who was hiding below.
He sneered, “The mountains nearby have all been sealed by me. You’ll eventually be found, and then you can enjoy the pleasure of being devoured by ten thousand insects!”
In a valley, Yuan Yang crouched in a corner, hidden beneath foliage, holding a seven-colored Muni Pearl that made her presence and aura illusory, like a mirage.
This was a Buddhist treasure she had exchanged from the Master of the Six Samsaras—”True-False Muni Realm”—now used to evade Wan Chong Zunzhe’s search.
Yuan Yang, experienced and calm despite the extreme danger, maintained clear thoughts, attempting to fabricate signs of her fleeing far away, deceiving Wan Chong Zunzhe into abandoning his search here.
Besides, this was within Bei Zhou’s territory. How dare the Blood Robe Sect act so brazenly without fearing the emperor’s sword?
As long as she could stay calm and wait patiently even in the face of imminent danger, there was still hope. Any passing external powerhouse might make the Venerable Wan Chong overly suspicious!
After a fruitless search, Wan Chong Zunzhe’s white hair flared wildly, seemingly entwined with venomous snakes, as he coldly declared, “Nightfall approaches, and the beasts stir. With few travelers around, I still have ample time!”
“Hmph, I can always destroy these mountains entirely!”
The Blood Robe Sect’s cultivation methods were inhumane, accumulating heavy karma often inviting heavenly punishment. Destroying mountains was just adding insult to injury.
Yuan Yang’s heart sank. She had underestimated Wan Chong Zunzhe’s cruelty and madness, unsure if he was bluffing or truly dared to act.
Without completing the false trail, fleeing now would mean suicide!
Murong Yunle, supporting Meng Qi, had approached unnoticed by Wan Chong Zunzhe and his countless insects. Hearing the declaration, she felt anxious and glanced at Meng Qi.
Could Zhen Ding, now severely injured, still confront Wan Chong Zunzhe as he had the Joyful Bodhisattva?
Wan Chong Zunzhe laughed cruelly, clenching his fist to gather the insects for mountain destruction!
Suddenly, a deep, calm voice echoed clearly through the endless mountains:
“Endless is the sea of suffering; turn back, and the shore will appear.”
Startled, Wan Chong Zunzhe wondered if someone had stealthily approached.
In the valley, Yuan Yang heard the voice, stunned at first, then ecstatic, whispering:
“My Lord…”
Wan Chong Zunzhe traced the voice to see a gray-robed monk, gaunt and familiar, whose aura sent chills down his spine.
“Kuang Dao” Su Meng!
The vanished “Kuang Dao” Su Meng, who a decade ago could effortlessly slay him!
He noticed Meng Qi’s grave injuries but, in a flash of thought, transformed into a streak of light, fleeing desperately, his insects vanishing instantly.
Even injured, Wan Chong Zunzhe felt he couldn’t withstand a single slash from Su Meng!
Once the fatal strike came, he would surely die!
Better to consult the sect leader first!
At the utterance of “Endless is the sea of suffering,” Wan Chong Zunzhe fled, restoring peace to the mountains. Murong Yunle hadn’t expected such a sudden turn, anticipating a fierce battle or a cryptic exchange like with the Joyful Bodhisattva, followed by a quiet retreat. Instead, upon seeing Zhen Ding, Wan Chong Zunzhe fled like a beaten dog!
Had Wan Chong Zunzhe suffered greatly under Zhen Ding before, or did he know Zhen Ding’s strength, injured or not, could still overwhelm him?
As these thoughts swirled, she saw Yuan Yang fly out from the mountains, landing before them, gazing at Zhen Ding with complex emotions, calling softly:
“My Lord…”
“Huh…” Murong Yunle perked up, suddenly tense.
Meng Qi glanced at Yuan Yang with a weathered gaze, smiling faintly, “Good.”
At his praise, Yuan Yang felt a surge of emotions, eyes welling up: “They’re all gone… only Lingyu and I remain…”
Meng Qi sighed, briefly closing his eyes: “Life and death are impermanent.”
Murong Yunle sensed a fleeting emotional flicker in Zhen Ding, the phrase “Life and death are impermanent” a quiet culmination of countless hidden feelings.
Yuan Yang, ever outgoing, eyes glistening, grew more emotional: “Lingyu and I are searching for you. Brother Gu and Sister Tang are searching too. He Mu is searching. So many people… I’m so glad you’re safe.”
“I recognized my Lord because you asked me about the Blood Robe Sect in the Southern Wilderness, and then you attacked them.”
“My Lord, why are you a monk again?”
“Again?” Murong Yunle caught the key word. Why did so many know Zhen Ding, yet she didn’t?
Meng Qi’s lips curved faintly, without visible warmth, as if wanting to explain much but finally saying:
“My mind bears demonic taint.”
“Demonic taint…” Yuan Yang pondered his bitter, mournful tone, momentarily at a loss, before finally smiling: “I’m just glad you’re safe.”
If words faltered, better to leave it at that.
Murong Yunle listened, entranced: “Demonic taint…”
“The border of Bei Zhou is dangerous. Head south quickly, deliver this mirror to Gao Lan, the emperor of Da Zhou. It’s time to return what was borrowed a decade ago,” Meng Qi said softly, producing a mirror with golden glimmers.
Gao Lan, the mad emperor of Da Zhou? Could Zhen Ding borrow from a top-ranked Tian Bang cultivator, a human emperor?
Yuan Yang accepted the mirror, forcing cheerfulness: “Afraid I might lose it on the way?”
“This journey will be safe,” Meng Qi said gravely, his chest muscles subtly shifting as his wounds slowly healed.
Yuan Yang nodded, walking upward. After a few steps, she paused, her back to Meng Qi: “M-My Lord… I’m truly glad to see you again.”
As she prepared to leave, Murong Yunle suddenly called: “Lady Yuan, wait. Let me accompany you.”
Turning to Meng Qi, she said: “Master, I’ve known Lady Yuan for years. I’ll see her off and return. You won’t leave here soon, right?”
“Go ahead,” Meng Qi sat cross-legged, his body seeming somewhat drained.
Yuan Yang walked down, and Murong Yunle quickly caught up, chatting: “We met Master Zhen Ding in the wilds near Bei Zhou’s border with the grasslands. He lived in a ruined temple, beside an old lamp and Buddha, facing a lotus…”
She knew Lady Yuan wanted to know this!
Yuan Yang slowed, wiping her face, walking beside Murong Yunle, listening quietly to tales from their first meeting to the sword strike against the Daoist.
“A decade ago, people said my Lord died, others said he suffered a great blow. Now it seems the latter,” Yuan Yang clenched her fist. “As long as he lives, there’s hope. He can rise again!”
A great blow, heartbroken… Murong Yunle, seeing Zhen Ding’s current state, suddenly felt compassion.
“Master Zhen Ding, who was he back then in the martial world?” Murong Yunle blurted.
Yuan Yang turned, eyes still red, surprised: “You don’t know?”
“Why would I?” Murong Yunle puffed her cheeks.
Yuan Yang walked on, chuckling ambiguously: “A decade ago, he was Su Meng.”
“Su Meng…” “Kuang Dao” Su Meng! Murong Yunle’s eyes widened. In that generation of stars, he was the unrivaled martial genius!
Whether the Supreme Divine Sword or the Demon Emperor, all paled before his brilliance.
Even after a decade’s disappearance, his legend endured, though details faded.
A hero of countless battles, defying odds, living fiercely, yet now he dwelled in a ruined temple.
What blow could reduce a potential legend to this?
…
Xuehai Luosha fled northward, using divination and secret techniques to track Meng Qi.
After an unknown duration, a figure suddenly appeared before him—wide sleeves, hair in a bun, composed: none other than “Mo Shi” Han Guang!
“You came,” Xuehai Luosha kept wary distance.
Han Guang’s eyes carried traces of time-worn sorrow as he gazed at Xuehai Luosha: “I sensed something unusual, so I came.”
“What kind of anomaly?” Xuehai Luosha asked, puzzled.
Han Guang smiled faintly: “You’ll never catch up to Su Meng.”
“What do you mean?” Xuehai Luosha frowned.
Han Guang looked to the sky, smirking: “You’re ‘fated’ never to see him again.”
“You mean…” Xuehai Luosha hesitated, heart pounding, “What realm has Kuang Dao reached?”
Han Guang clasped his hands behind his back, musing: “I haven’t seen him yet, so how can I know? But subtly manipulating fate and altering karma isn’t something just anyone can do.”
“A legendary trait?” Xuehai Luosha’s tone grew serious.
Han Guang shook his head slowly: “A characteristic of the other shore.”
“What?” Xuehai Luosha exclaimed, startled.
“Or perhaps a trait of having mastered ‘All Fruits’ Origin’,” Han Guang’s eyes revealed a distant imperial shadow, beneath his feet a phantom river. “I must personally go to ‘see’ him!”
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