Chapter 110: The Orange-Robed Elder’s Fury

Fallen Immortal City.
Old Wine Street, Drunken Immortal Residence.
In the backyard’s dense bamboo grove, on the only patch of open ground,
A small table held light wine, and the man in white robes continued drinking, though his expression was no longer calm.
Before him sat an elderly man clad in purple robes, smiling gently as he casually remarked, “Sir, I can only accompany you for this final cup.”
The man in white raised his cup, tapped the table’s edge, then took a small sip, swallowing with difficulty.
After a moment, he said, “Let me take care of Little Feng, and also…”
The Drunken Immortal fell silent, uncertain whether it was appropriate to continue or unwilling to speak further.
The elderly man in purple drained his cup, rose, and bowed respectfully. “I will do my best... Su Fan, I will do my best.”
Though his words were strange and incomplete, the Drunken Immortal understood.
He smiled faintly and said, “I hope he will have the chance to come here again someday.”
The elderly man bowed deeply once more, then withdrew from the bamboo grove, flying toward the outskirts of Old Wine Street.

...

At Hongshan Peak of the Tianyuan Sect, the main hall lay strewn with corpses, blood flowing like rivers.
Among the dead were low-ranking Tianyuan disciples and mysterious gray-robed cultivators.
Mixed in were some black-armored soldiers, whose cultivation was generally weak, resulting in heavy casualties with almost none surviving.
Though both sides had suffered grievous losses, the gray-robed cultivators and Tianyuan disciples still battled fiercely.
Among the gray-robed faction, one stood out—a cultivator embroidered with a dragon totem on his robe.
With a flick of his hand, several Tianyuan disciples fell, their deaths gruesome and terrifying.
His ruthlessness was evident; he used any means necessary, even sacrificing his own disciples to shield himself from attacks.
Among the Tianyuan Sect, an orange-robed cultivator was equally formidable.
With a casual wave, warm-hued beams of light appeared, piercing through the gray-robed cultivators like sharp swords.
These beams could sever bodies in half, their cruelty matching that of the dragon-emblazoned gray-robed leader.
These two were the veterans and main forces of their respective sides.

Between them, whichever fell would immediately end the stalemate.
The side losing its main force would be swiftly overwhelmed.
The orange-robed elder glanced over the battlefield, noticing one fighter battling valiantly, bloodied from head to toe, eyes gleaming with a fierce light.
This man was short, with a disproportionately large head and an unattractive face, yet he wore the yellow sect leader’s attire.
Since the mysterious death of the previous yellow-robed elder and his appointment as the new yellow leader by the sect master,
The orange-robed elder had looked down on him, doubting his reliability.
But now, watching this man’s valor, the orange-robed elder felt a surge of relief.
Even if disaster struck, Tianyuan Sect could endure with people like him.
Though the current calamity was earth-shattering—nearly wiping out the sect—
The two senior leaders were missing, two others were locked in bitter rivalry, and one had not been seen for centuries.
Now only this man remained, who had resigned himself to death.
Unexpectedly, the newly appointed yellow-robed elder proved brave and strong, rekindling hope.
The orange-robed elder roared, “Who dares to trespass on Tianyuan? I shall see you all perish here!”
At his shout, several nearby gray-robed cultivators coughed up blood, frightened to death.
The orange-robed elder sneered, seizing a young gray-robed cultivator and crushing his skull with his bare hand.
The surrounding Tianyuan disciples were stunned by this display; the usually gentle orange-robed elder, known for tending flowers and joking with disciples, revealed a fierce side.
Some senior disciples showed less surprise, having witnessed the elder’s ferocity in battles past.
The Tianyuan Sect’s legacy spanned millions of years and had faced many disasters.
Once, a powerful neighboring sect launched a fierce assault.
That sect had strength, cunning, and numerous soul experts guarding their ranks.
Since Tianyuan was exposed and the enemy covert, seven soul cultivators of Tianyuan were ambushed: three gravely wounded, two lured away by stratagems, and one poisoned, temporarily losing cultivation.
With the sect in peril and enemy forces pressing on Tianyuan Mountain,
One peak after another fell, cities were lost, and the sect faced near annihilation.
On that day, the orange-robed elder single-handedly infiltrated the enemy camp,
Slaying two soul cultivators and severely wounding another,
Killing countless low-level cultivators, striking terror into all who witnessed his might.
These past deeds were rarely mentioned, especially as Tianyuan had been peaceful for many years since.

The orange-robed elder had mostly devoted himself to gardening and herb cultivation, tempering his fierce temper.
But restraint did not mean the fire was extinguished—only dormant, waiting for the right moment.
Now that moment had arrived.
Before him lay mountains of corpses, blood staining his robe in stark contrast.
The once-confident gray-robed leader now hesitated, uncertainty flickering across his face.
Seizing the opportunity, the orange-robed elder bellowed, “Exterminate these bandits!”
As he shouted, he waved his sleeve, transforming into a colossal orange dragon that charged toward the gray-robed leader.
The leader clearly intended to retreat, fear flashing in his eyes.
The orange dragon, sharp as a bow and arrow, aimed to pierce the leader’s chest.
But it halted a yard away.
The orange-robed elder turned in surprise, spotting a flying sword embedded in his body and its wielder.
The newly appointed yellow-robed elder stood before him, eyes wide with terror, their gazes locking.
The yellow-robed elder cried out, “Senior uncle, I have no choice but to do this. Tianyuan cannot be saved.”
The orange-robed elder trembled violently, roaring, “If it cannot be saved, then we die together.”
Nearby, the gray-robed leader sneered, forming hand seals as a curved blade appeared in his hand.
The blade flew swiftly, striking the orange-robed elder.
Already grievously wounded by the yellow-robed elder’s sword, the orange-robed elder could barely resist the attack.
The blade fell, severing one of the elder’s arms.
The watching yellow-robed elder rejoiced, recalling his sword and launching another attack to finish the orange-robed elder.
He knew that if the orange-robed elder survived, once he fled and recovered, there would be no hope of survival for himself.
Yet his fears were needless; the orange-robed elder had no intention of fleeing—he would rather die here than retreat.
The Tianyuan disciples witnessing the scene grew chaotic, panic spreading.
The once steadfast pillar of their sect was about to fall.
In an instant, the stalemate shattered, and the gray-robed cultivators seized the advantage.