Chapter 98: The Most Beautiful Is Nothing More Than Watching Falling Flowers in a Leisurely Courtyard

Drinking and eating meat in Old Wine Street was unquestionably Lin Xiaofeng’s highest ambition, for it required no fuss and no fighting, even though he was a man who loved to fight.

Yet if it meant fighting to the point of ruin, Lin Xiaofeng could still give up that habit, for he was no madman like the Mad Master.

As the four of them flew onward, they discussed many things—heavenly tribulations, the curiosities within Corpse Valley, and Old Wine Street.

When they spoke of Corpse Valley, the Mad Master was impossible to omit; and when Old Wine Street came up, it was odd that he would come up there as well.

When Lin Xiaofeng spoke of the Mad Master, there was a note of mockery in him, and also a touch of sorrow, like a long-time friend regretting a disaster brought on by his stubbornness and never seeing him again.

Stories of this kind, Sufan had heard in Qian Pinming’s shop from Nameless—one of those men sometimes called Master Zhao, and Sufan liked hearing them from that Zhao all the more. He had heard many tales like that.

So Sufan could tell at once that Lin Xiaofeng and the Mad Master must have been close friends—of that kind where one glance is enough to tell what the other wants.

Only such friends speak of each other so freely and so lightly, even bringing into it the disputes they once had.

From his words, Sufan could roughly picture the Mad Master: short in stature, yet possessing a heart as vast as the sky; a plain or even ugly face, yet loyalty to friends unshaken.

That was a man one might call spiritually complete, yet Lin Xiaofeng still refused to admit it, insisting he was a great brute.

The reason, he said, was that the Mad Master once shattered Lin’s treasured old wine to save a chicken that was about to die under a cart.

Or the Mad Master had fought a skirmish with several Nascent-Soul-sect cultivators for a raided village and had come away badly wounded.

Those stories made Sufan ever more curious about this Mad Master. Qin Yu and Xiao Lin, however, showed no interest, heads down, silently twisting their fingers as they flew.

Looking at Lin Xiaofeng, who seemed unwilling to stop talking, Sufan said, “You are probably the most mysterious of the three from Corpse Valley. In what way are you mysterious?”

Lin Xiaofeng gave a faint smile and shook his head. “Mystery only means my origin is mysterious.”

Sufan did not ask why that needed explaining. Every person carries a past that cannot quite be forgotten, either in grief or in memory.

And every cultivator carries, more or less, odd turns of fate and painful encounters.

Sufan suddenly found himself thinking that this seemingly cheerful, ever-smiling man must also have places within him untouched by joy. Yet joy is not, by nature, a human possession—is it the privilege of immortals? Is cultivation meant to erase all pain?

He blinked and said with a faint smile, “I’ve heard you once defeated the two masters of Corpse Valley and entered it.”

Lin Xiaofeng laughed aloud. “Nonsense. I knew Poison Ghost, that mad fellow, long ago.”

Sufan looked puzzled.

Lin added, “Those men only staged it to give me a legitimate path into Corpse Valley. Their aim was only to shut a few mouths.”

After a pause, Sufan sighed. “Master Poison is dead. His grave is outside the dense forest.”

Lin Xiaofeng’s calm was astonishing. Sufan had expected fierce anger, words demanding vengeance on the culprit’s death.

But Lin only hesitated for a breath and said evenly, “When he left, I already foresaw this ending.”

“Why?” Sufan asked.

Lin gave a bitter smile. “To serve the Tianyuan Envoy, if one does not spend one’s all, this is what happens.”

Sufan frowned slightly. “What kind of people are they, to be so arrogant?”

“Arrogance needs its own reasons,” Lin said quietly. “Best for us to stay plain and simple in Old Wine Street. It may be the safest place. Wait a few days, and all this fog will likely clear.”

The city of Fallen Immortal City was still wrapped in water-mist, like a celestial dream. Its rain seemed endless. Many towers and pavilions lay hidden and revealed in the drifting rain.

The four of them walked through the puddles, splashing up water at every step.

Sufan followed, expression distant, silent about whatever he was thinking.

Perhaps he was thinking of the good liquor of Old Wine Street, or perhaps he worried about the Purple-Robed Elder who had been constantly clashing with the Elder in Red Robes.

He suddenly looked up and saw patrols of black-armed soldiers, and, thinking they must have been brought back by Xiao Lin, asked, “Has the Imperial City fallen?”

Xiao Lin paused and stopped. “It has.”

After a moment, Sufan said quietly, “Any casualties?”

Through their brief cooperation with the black-armed soldiers, Sufan had grown to feel something for them; at least he admired their loyalty. When he escaped under Nameless’s strike, he had vaguely heard their shouts. The emotion was not in mere words—it was respect for that bond.

That is why he asked whether any of the black-armed soldiers had been wounded or killed.

Xiao Lin rubbed his head and smiled. “No casualties, not a single one.”

Sufan exhaled inwardly in relief. “No injuries, then. Good.”

“To be precise,” Xiao Lin said quickly, “we didn’t encounter any cultivators at all. As soon as the officials of the Imperial City saw us arrive, they opened the gates and surrendered.”

Sufan was taken aback. Inwardly he wondered what lay behind it. How could Nameless, who had worked so hard to win the Imperial City’s support, stand by while outsiders invaded?

Lin Xiaofeng seemed to sense something odd, but he only shook his head without speaking and kept moving.

Sufan let out a long breath and followed, eyes lowered and silent.

Old Wine Street was still full of standing water, hard to walk through. Lin Xiaofeng paid no attention to the black mud beneath the surface and strode through it as if on dry ground.

Sufan showed little reaction and moved through the water just as Lin did.

Only Xiao Lin and Qin Yu, seeing the filthy water, were reluctant to go on foot; but with Sufan and Lin already far ahead, there was no choice but to skim over the surface in flight.

Fortunately, there were not many mortals left in Old Wine Street. The few shops with their doors open were empty, and the attendants inside all wore the same sleepy look.

If you are tired, then sleep. The attendant at the Drunken Immortal House had indeed drifted into real sleep. In the rear courtyard behind the gray-robed old man, the large vat from which Lin Xiaofeng had once drunk still stood in place, only the so-called wine-like liquid within it was gone.

Sufan still carried one question: what kind of liquor had that been? It had no flavor, yet still had the feel of wine.

Returning to those old scenes, old feelings surged up in him; after a few sighs, a faint gladness slowly came to his face.

Qin Yu and Xiao Lin looked bewildered. They could not understand why Lin was so sure this place was safe—safer than the Tianyuan Sect, it seemed—and even cautious Sufan believed him.

To stay alive, they had to follow Sufan; to avoid becoming a burden to their own masters, each of them had to keep himself safe.

Let them brawl and scheme with each other. You and I can sit among the woods and share flowers and wine.