Chapter 131: Look, It’s Snowing

Over the past year, Su Fan had countless times yearned to return to the opposite shore. Ever since the threat of the flames first appeared, it would strike whenever he let his guard down. Although they were mere illusions, the toll they took on Su Fan was significant, affecting him both physically and mentally. The psychological strain stemmed from a deep-seated dread of the heavens, for these flames originated from an unknowable realm that no ordinary person could hope to resist.

Whenever an illusion manifested, he would be lucky if he merely crashed into the pavilion, suffering wounds that could only be stanched by the power of his jade pendant. If his luck were worse, he would tumble into the lake, fall unconscious, and be tossed back into the pavilion by the fish. The fish seemed to take a perverse delight in this, eventually performing the task even without Yu Ming tossing willow leaves for them.

Then one day, Su Fan noticed that the illusion had not appeared for the entire day. He cast a curious glance at Yu Ming on the bank, who seemed to have fallen into a deep sleep. Yu Ming’s eyes were tightly shut, his fingers still clutching a few willow leaves. Yet, as winter had long since arrived, the willow trees on the shore were bare; perhaps someone had swept the area, for not a single leaf remained beneath the trees.

The leaves in Yu Ming’s hand were withered and brittle. A closer look revealed that if his fingers were to part even slightly, the leaves would crumble to dust—they had clearly been there for some time. Unwilling to disturb this senior brother—who appeared so haughty yet acted as docile as a kitten in front of their master—Su Fan tremblingly closed his eyes, bracing himself for the flame illusion that could strike at any moment.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than four fireballs surged in from the four openings of the pavilion. Su Fan scrambled to dodge, but his entire body felt frozen, unable and afraid to move, lest he fall into the lake. Recalling the unbearable agony of the unconsciousness that followed, he could only grit his teeth against the rising terror.

After a few frantic contortions, the four fireballs passed. Su Fan was deeply puzzled; he had actually evaded them today. In the past, they would never vanish until they had tortured him to the brink of death. Glancing back, a sudden realization plunged him into a new, deeper terror. Yu Ming was still on the bank. This should have been a simple fact—he had always been there.

But this was within the illusion; there should have been no shore, and without a shore, there should have been no Yu Ming. If something that existed in reality had appeared within the illusion, then it meant one thing: it was no illusion. The fireballs were real.

With this realization, Su Fan quietly circulated his spiritual energy in preparation for the inevitable danger. After months of tempering his energy, his body had gradually recovered, and his cultivation had reached roughly the Foundation Establishment stage.

However, Su Fan felt that his current Foundation Establishment was far more solid than before. Although he was only at the early stage, he was confident that even if a late-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator were to appear, he would dare to fight them—or perhaps even kill them. Whether this was merely a conceit born from his previous high-level cultivation or a genuine reflection of his current strength, he could not be certain.

One thing was sure: at the Foundation Establishment stage, he could now actively absorb spiritual energy to quickly restore his cultivation. He found it strange that he could recover so effectively without the aid of potent medicinal pills. He did not realize that the lake was a superior-grade spiritual spring, the pavilion was crafted from an unknown wood with unique properties for channeling energy, and most importantly, the mysterious jade pendant at his waist had repeatedly been his salvation.

The reason Su Fan was unaware that the lake was a spiritual spring was due to the sophistication of the array, which far surpassed his current understanding. Although he was well-versed in ancient arrays, there were some far more exquisite than those he knew. Furthermore, even Yu Ming was unaware of the nature of the spring, as such high-level resources were shrouded in secrets, involving too many complex interests.

Su Fan skillfully condensed his spiritual energy and meticulously set up a few protective barriers. He then rapidly cast a spell, and a faint purple glow enveloped his body. Above, the rolling white clouds began to show signs of shifting color.

...

On the east side of the lake, past the heart-of-the-lake pavilion, ran a long, narrow covered corridor. Following it deep into the grounds led to an elegant, small tower.

The tower had no name.

Walking through the narrow door, which could only accommodate one person at a time, one could see the entire interior. It was surprisingly spartan, appearing incongruous with the refined exterior. It resembled the study of an impoverished scholar: a plain wooden table, a plain wooden chair, and the standard accoutrements of a study.

A middle-aged man sat on the chair. He had a light beard, and his warm, gentle face invited intimacy. He held a small brush, hovering it over a sheet of pristine paper, seemingly lost in thought.

"Are you certain the prophecy is true?" the middle-aged man said suddenly. "It was merely the empty talk of a wandering old Taoist. Can we, as practitioners, truly be deceived by such a commoner?"

He was speaking to an old woman in black. She gazed through a small window intentionally cut into the tower, watching the distant lake and the overcast sky, heavy with the threat of winter snow. Hearing the middle-aged man finally speak, she slowly withdrew her gaze and sighed. "As the Sect Leader said, we are practitioners; how could we be deceived?"

"That old Taoist once said the Heavenly Origin Prefecture would undergo a change. And sure enough, not long ago, the messenger I planted sent word: the seven factions of the Heavenly Origin Sect are in civil strife, and external enemies have seized the chance to invade. The Heavenly Origin Sect is no longer what it once was. Perhaps even our Profound Mystery Sect could destroy them now."

The middle-aged man’s hand trembled slightly as he held the brush, then he quickly wrote the characters for "Heavenly Origin" on the paper. "The Heavenly Origin Sect has been a major sect for a thousand years, regardless of their state. Our Profound Mystery Sect does not possess that kind of strength."

"Perhaps it is a coincidence, but..." The old woman hesitated, then continued after a moment of silence, "After that old Taoist came that year, I went to see the Junior Martial Uncle. He said there was something suspicious about it."

At these words, the middle-aged man stood up abruptly, his face contorted with unprecedented anger. "I gave orders that no one was to see the Junior Martial Uncle privately! Have you forgotten what happened back then? If it were known that he is alive, our sect would face a catastrophe."

The old woman let out a cynical laugh, shaking her head slightly. "When the Junior Martial Uncle killed three late-stage Nascent Soul experts from the Eternal Joy Sect during a drill, it should have been a point of pride for our sect. Instead, we acted with such cowardice, forcing him to fake his death and imprisoning a cultivation genius in that sunless mountain for the rest of his life."

Though the Sect Leader was known for his gentle demeanor, that did not mean he was incapable of rage; at the very least, he was capable of killing. Yet, the old woman seemed unbothered. Her mocking tone and disdainful words were aimed directly at the Sect Leader, showing no trace of restraint.

The middle-aged man ultimately did not fly into a rage. He sat back down slowly, looking out the window, and suddenly smiled. "Look," he said softly, "it is snowing."