Chapter Forty-Three: Star Over the Sea

Night had deepened. Su Fan paced through the courtyard, the fragrance of spirit herbs suffusing the air.

A month had already passed, and his wounds had long since healed. For this entire month, Su Fan had done nothing but cultivate, so it was rare for him to step outside for a breath of fresh air.

He did not know when Luo Xun had appeared behind him; Su Fan, of course, was aware of his presence and spoke, “How has your cultivation been lately?”

Luo Xun’s expression was somber. “Proprietor, you…”

Su Fan interrupted him, “I’m fine. The wedding invitation in your hand—who sent it?”

Luo Xun started, suddenly recalling his purpose in coming, and looked a little embarrassed. “It’s from the Azure Origin Pavilion. Young Master Mo He is getting married.”

Su Fan paused, then smiled. “A wedding? What sort of gift would be suitable?”

Luo Xun’s demeanor shifted, and he smiled. “Everyone knows Young Master Mo He loves fans, especially the jade fan he always carries, said to be an heirloom of the Azure Origin Pavilion. Unfortunately, it lacks a fitting fan pendant. Mo He has searched for one, but to this day, he hasn’t found anything suitable.”

“Do you have one?” Su Fan asked.

Luo Xun feigned mystery. “As it happens, I do.”

Su Fan gave a faint smile. “Any news of Miss Fan?”

Luo Xun sighed. “We searched every ruined temple you mentioned; they’ve all been abandoned for some time.”

A shadow passed over Su Fan’s face as he quietly made his way toward his cave dwelling.

In Luo City, the snow had already begun to melt. Droplets fell from the eaves, striking the oiled paper umbrellas of pretty girls and lending the scene a special charm.

On the way to the Azure Origin Pavilion, Su Fan saw many shops with their signboards being taken down. Those had once been businesses owned by the Ran Suo Sect, but now all belonged to the Azure Origin Pavilion.

Passing by the Azure Origin Pawnshop, Su Fan lingered for a long time, reflecting on the changes the city had undergone over the years. Inwardly, he sighed at the transformations of the world, yet acknowledged that he had played a part in these changes, and so, with a sigh, he moved on.

A hundred miles from the Azure Origin Pavilion, red lanterns hung everywhere, and the whole place was adorned in festive red—red signboards, red railings.

Su Fan strolled into the grand courtyard. Curious glances were cast his way, and whispers of speculation followed. News spread swiftly in the world of cultivators, and Su Fan’s feat of breaching the Three Gates of the Three Sovereigns’ Stronghold had left many astonished—whether at his daring in challenging such a sect, his strength and courage, or speculation about the mysterious elder who had rescued him.

Su Fan met such things with silence, for they touched upon pains in his heart that he dared not confront.

Mo He, it seemed, understood this as well, for he came out to greet Su Fan from afar, and Su Fan returned his gesture with a smile.

Mo He now seemed even more compelling than before, whether by virtue of his handsome looks, his distinguished family, or his extraordinary talent.

Su Fan felt genuine happiness for the bride, whom he knew slightly: a woman named Xin Meng, like him unable to cultivate. Su Fan felt a particular sympathy for those unable to cultivate, knowing all too well that to force it brought a pain worse than death.

As for Mo Hanfeng, the old master of the Azure Origin Pavilion, he could not but be called a formidable figure. How could he allow his only son to marry a mortal woman of poor talent? That the matter had come to pass at all showed Mo He’s considerable sacrifice.

Mo He approached, smiling. “Daoist Su, it seems your cultivation has improved since we last met. What gift have you brought me?”

Such words were only spoken between true friends, and Mo He’s tone made it clear he considered Su Fan a friend.

Su Fan smiled and presented the box in his hands. He himself did not know exactly what was inside, only that it was a fan pendant.

With a flick of his finger, Mo He opened the box. The jade within was so exquisite that even Mo He was momentarily stunned.

Among the onlookers, someone whispered, “Star from the Sea.”

A stir rippled through the crowd. Su Fan looked puzzled; to him, the pendant seemed quite ordinary—perhaps fine among mortals, but that it should cause such a reaction surprised him, and he found himself regarding Luo Xun with newfound respect.

Mo He caught Su Fan’s confusion and quickly explained, “You may not know, Daoist Su, but this ‘Star from the Sea’ is a rare treasure. Legend has it that it’s a celestial stone fallen from the sky, tempered for millennia in the ocean depths before becoming what you see here.”

Su Fan frowned slightly. “What’s so special about it?”

Mo He smiled. “It’s said the Star from the Sea can store the essence of magical artifacts. If a treasure is damaged, frequent contact with this stone can help restore it.”

As he spoke, Mo He attached the Star from the Sea to his fan. Su Fan said calmly, “It suits you. Consider it my gift.”

Mo He’s face lit with joy; he couldn’t stop admiring the pendant, clearly delighted.

Su Fan cleared his throat. To give away such a wondrous item left him with some regret, but as the Azure Origin Pavilion had once saved his life, he had no choice but to accept it.

More and more people filled the courtyard. Many were figures Su Fan had heard of only in rumor, now gathered in one place.

Mo Hanfeng, seeing Su Fan, offered polite greetings; as an elder, Su Fan responded with utmost respect and gratitude.

By midday, guests arrived less frequently; those present took their seats, waiting only for the bride to arrive for the ceremony to begin.

Time passed. The appointed auspicious hour was nearly over, but the bridal sedan had yet to appear.

Mo He grew restless, glancing repeatedly toward the gate, but apart from passing merchants, no one came.

Just as whispers of speculation began, a blood-soaked man staggered into the courtyard.

Judging by his attire, he was from the Azure Origin Pavilion, but now his sleeves hung empty and blood dripped from his body.

Instantly, the commotion stilled. All eyes fixed on the bloodied man, uncertain what to do.

Mo He’s expression darkened. He hurried forward to support the man—one of those he had sent to escort the bride.

Mo He cried, “Where is Xin Meng? Where is she? Who did this?”

He asked many questions in a single breath, but the man’s eyes were vacant and his lips unmoving, as though paralyzed by terror.

Su Fan frowned, suddenly recalling the missing soul of Ran Hua.

He seized the man and asked in a grave tone, “Was it the Ran Suo Sect?”

The man’s eyes rolled, and he gave a faint nod.

Su Fan drew a sharp breath. “Was it Ran Hua?”

At this, the man seemed struck by a terror beyond bearing. With a cry, he spat blood and collapsed, dead.

Mo He’s once-clear eyes turned bloodshot with rage, no longer the gentle, refined young lord but a man possessed by murderous fury.

Before Su Fan could react, Mo He had already rushed from the courtyard, flying toward the Ran Suo Sect.

Su Fan glanced at Mo Hanfeng, signaling reassurance, and followed after Mo He.

Mo Hanfeng seemed to age in that moment, as if all at once. The old often possess a sixth sense; after giving a few brief instructions, he retired to the inner hall.

Soon after, a squad of black-clad cultivators soared from the courtyard—the Azure Origin Pavilion’s most elite force. With them gone, the pavilion was left unguarded.

Su Fan could not discern Mo He’s exact cultivation, but judged from his speed that he was at the late Foundation Establishment stage, near its peak.

Fortunately, Su Fan had an endless supply of spiritual energy from the jade pendant, allowing him to barely follow Mo He’s trail.

The Ran Suo Sect was built within Cold Mountain Valley. Its vast gates, though dilapidated, still bore traces of the grandeur of a sect once glorious for a thousand years.

Following Mo He, Su Fan entered the grounds, never having imagined that the desert he’d seen before was but the tip of the iceberg.

The true Ran Suo Sect was magnificent, in no way inferior to the Three Sovereigns’ Stronghold.

On the boundless plaza stood a great cauldron, towering like a small mountain at the center. Wisps of green smoke curled from its mouth, and a woman hung suspended above it.

She was quite beautiful, though her hair was disheveled and her eyes closed, as if she had already lost consciousness.

A few paces from her, level with the great cauldron, stood a stone platform where a young man sat, his expression sinister, eyes narrowed in perverse satisfaction.

Mo He, ascending the final steps, beheld the scene. Forming a spell with his fingers, he instantly moved before the cauldron.

The youth upon the platform sneered, “So you’ve come.”

Mo He said nothing, his eyes fixed only on the woman hanging above the cauldron.

The youth continued, “Do you want to save her? You, the most outstanding of Luo City’s younger generation, have been reduced to this for a mere mortal woman. Pathetic.”

Mo He could bear it no longer. With a shout, he raised his fan to strike. “Ran Hua! Today I will avenge Xin Meng!”

The youth’s expression did not change; he merely traced two strokes in the air with his finger.

Suddenly, Mo He halted mid-strike and whirled toward Xin Meng.

At those phantom strokes, the rope suspending her snapped, and Xin Meng plummeted toward the fire like a severed kite.

With a desperate cry, Mo He caught her cold body and landed heavily upon the ground.

He gazed tenderly at the woman, gently smoothing her hair, strand by strand. After a moment, he took off his robe and draped it over her.

Then, rising slowly, he looked up at the youth on the platform, who watched with an amused, mocking air, as if savoring the downfall of one once so distant, now reduced to a plaything in his hands—or simply finding the whole matter laughable.

Su Fan arrived just in time to witness the scene, silent in the face of such tragedy.

The grand sect’s plaza was empty, save for the two figures at its heart.

He was not surprised by Ran Hua’s return from the dead; as soon as the bloodied man had entered the courtyard, Su Fan had anticipated all that would follow.

Yet he could not fathom how Ran Hua had survived death so many times. At first, he had attributed it to his own lack of knowledge, but now, countless questions churned in Su Fan’s mind.

The two figures stood alone upon the vast plaza.