Chapter 112: Now Our Bond as Master and Disciple Has Ended
Night.
A pitch-black night. Within the Pavilion of Seven Colors, a figure suddenly emerged. He was the only person in this world who was not still.
This man wore the same gray robe, but on it was a distinct white dove emblem.
The two elements were utterly mismatched, yet at this moment, they seemed perfectly fitting—perhaps it was the right time and the right place.
Under the cover of darkness, it was impossible to discern what he wore, let alone the embroidery on his clothes.
Even if he were running naked through the Tianyuan Sect, no one would pay him any mind.
Because everyone who could see him was already dead; the few who survived were now deep in slumber induced by this night.
Even Su Fan had ceased weaving hand seals, and the elderly man in purple, who was walking toward the backyard, had come to a halt.
The gray-robed man whispered, “Could it be that the token is on him? How could that be?”
He laughed bitterly and then said, “Very well, it truly is on him.”
With that, he produced a token. It was actually a jade pendant, and if Su Fan saw it now, he would surely be astonished.
Because this jade pendant bore a striking resemblance to the one at his waist—practically identical.
The gray-robed man chuckled quietly, “I never expected to find this in the borderlands of this empire’s outlying courtyard. If the old fellows in my clan knew, they’d surely be driven mad with rage.”
“But this brat, surprisingly, managed to harness the token to comprehend ‘Death’s Might’—not bad at all. A pity his talent is abysmally poor; otherwise, I might have taken him as a disciple.”
“This token is extraordinary. The empire has offered a sky-high price to find it: complete control over six prefectures, the right to select a thousand beauties from three thousand concubines, ten prime spiritual veins, and the status of an imperial prince.”
“A joke. As head of the empire’s four great clans, being a direct descendant of the Shangguan family, these offers mean nothing to me. What a laugh—a colossal joke. …Well, I admit, I am somewhat tempted. …No, I’m curious. Curious about that token.”
“I have scoured every classic text in my clan but found no mention of this token. I wonder if the imperial library holds any records. I’ve heard the library contains all kinds of books—even many risqué ones—but His Majesty lacks empathy and forbids me entry, calling me unlearned. Now that I have this token, I must petition to enter and peruse the vast collection.”
“Yet, such a valuable jade pendant must have origins. How could it not? Even His Majesty, who possesses the entire Great Song Empire, was willing to part with his imperial concubines to obtain this pendant. Could it be an immortal artifact?”
The gray-robed man laughed at his own speculation, then sighed: “Immortal artifacts belong to immortals. It is said that the entire Great Song Empire only has one discarded blade in the imperial palace, but that’s just the word of that old national master—hardly reliable.”
He casually glanced up at the sky, displeased: “The person we want dead is still alive? And dawn has yet to break.”
The same words echoed from the bamboo grove in Old Wine Street.
By coincidence, both men closed their eyes slightly, as if meditating.
Suddenly, they opened their eyes simultaneously and uttered the same words: “There is a cultivator who has transformed his state of mind.”
After speaking, the gray-robed man pointed skyward, drawing a gentle line.
The darkness above seemed like a black cloth, rent by his finger, revealing the scene beyond—light.
At first, only one patch of light appeared, but soon the fabric seemed fragile, and cracks multiplied rapidly.
The sky quickly grew bright enough that everyone could see their own five fingers.
Su Fan was stunned and took some moments to recover from the darkness. He glanced at the red-robed elderly man, now torn and ragged, his face betraying uncontrollable terror.
From afar, the gray-robed man sneered disdainfully, muttering, “I’ll help you out now. Next, you’ll owe me.”
With that, he took a few light steps toward Su Fan.
...
The imperial city was bustling with commoners, most of whom gazed curiously skyward.
Several children chattered incessantly, occasionally pointing and gesturing.
“Why did the sky suddenly go dark just now? Even my oil lamp went out.”
“I heard from the adults that the celestial dog swallowed the sun.”
“Nonsense! It was the death of the Immortal Emperor. He slapped the sun and sent it flying. That’s why it was dark for a while, but now it’s bright again.”
The child who spoke of the Immortal Emperor was evidently more captivating; all the children gathered around him.
“Which do you think is stronger, the Immortal Emperor or the emperor?”
“Obviously the Immortal Emperor. He’s an immortal.”
“Immortals are powerful—I want to become one too.”
“...”
“What's so great about immortals?”
From behind the children, beneath a wall, came a voice.
A half-human-high hole revealed an old man’s head, his beard and hair pure white. He spoke angrily, “Immortals are still imprisoned in this dungeon, suffering just like us.”
“Old withered man, stop complaining. If you hadn’t tricked that damned emperor, you wouldn’t be in this misery.”
Behind the old man, a melodious voice came from inside the wall.
The withered old man suddenly surged forward, finally crawling out of the hole. He looked inside and said, “Which eye of yours saw me deceive him? What status do I have to fool him?”
After a moment, a young girl crawled out from the hole, dressed in a pink gauzy dress.
She sighed in relief and smiled, “Finally out.”
She paused, then asked, “Do you think sending that emperor to find Su Fan means his cultivation is very high now?”
The old man looked up at the still-dark sky and frowned, “High—unbelievably high.”
The girl smiled wryly and glanced skyward, murmuring, “I’ve slept for so long; why hasn’t the sky brightened yet?”
The old man snorted coldly, “It’s about to rain. Let’s run before they lock us back in that leaky cell. …Ah, my old back. Damn these shortsighted mortals.”
As the old man disappeared from sight, the girl called out anxiously, “Where is Su Fan? Can I go find him?”
“If you still want me, then go find him,” came the distant reply.
The girl stomped her foot sharply, nearly startling the children lost in their fantasies.
Before the children could react, she quickly ran in the direction the old man had taken.
...
The sky was gradually brightening. The elderly man in purple had reached the backyard. Nameless also stood, and Lin Xiaofeng looked at Su Fan with a complex expression.
Su Fan looked at the elderly man in purple with bitterness. Their eyes met, and the elderly man forced a faint smile.
It was a very strained smile. For some reason, the man in front of him—his disciple—felt strangely unfamiliar.
Perhaps it was in the eyes. Su Fan had never looked at the elderly man with doubt before, always trusting implicitly.
Eventually, the elderly man broke the silence, “It’s over.”
Su Fan smiled, “Yes, it’s over.” He patted his storage pouch and pulled out a wine flask, tossing it to the elderly man in purple.
It was a gift from the elderly man himself. Though his expression was somewhat dazed, he caught the flask.
He smiled calmly, “I helped you cultivate successfully, you helped me accomplish these tasks; we’re even.”
Su Fan was momentarily stunned, then burst into hearty laughter, “Even, good. Even.”
The elderly man approached Su Fan, offering the wine flask.
“This flask is for you because of what you said before the Drunken Immortal.”