Chapter Forty-Nine: The Boy's Hard Fate

The bustling avenue was teeming with people, the tavern filled with the constant roar of burly men: the clatter of dice, laughter from drinking games, and the shouts of gamblers. Amidst it all, drunkards made a scene, their drunken antics mingling with the chaos. Su Fan lay slumped in a corner of the tavern, appearing thoroughly intoxicated.

Yet, he did not join the rabble; he remained motionless, as if he had succumbed entirely to the drink. As the sunlight waned, the tavern grew even more crowded and boisterous. Su Fan, disturbed by the noise, slowly raised his head, his eyes still foggy with sleep.

The sight before him left him bewildered. He remembered only passing through the teleportation array—beyond that, nothing. Just as he lifted his head, a young attendant approached, fawning over him, “Sir, do you have any orders?”

Impatiently, Su Fan asked, “Where am I?”

The boy replied in surprise, “Why, this is the Imperial City! Surely you’re not a local, sir?”

Su Fan nodded, then added, “How did I get here?”

The attendant answered, “Three days ago, an official brought you here and told me to inform you that, when you awoke, you were to walk a hundred paces from the tavern.”

Su Fan gave a wry smile and left the tavern. He was never fond of alcohol, but the fragrant aroma was irresistible, so he took a jug of wine as he departed.

Dusk had settled on the street, but the lanterns blazed brightly, rivaling even Luo City’s splendor. Su Fan staggered along, counting his steps. He soon chuckled at himself, for he had lost count—forgetting to count even a mere hundred steps. It was almost comical.

But for a man weighed down by bitterness and resignation, such absentmindedness was understandable, especially as he walked and drank straight from his jug.

He had no idea how many steps he had taken when he halted, confronted by a grand and luxurious carriage blocking his path. With a faint smile, Su Fan climbed inside. There was no one within, nor a driver, yet the carriage began to move on its own.

Su Fan sighed deeply and collapsed onto the carriage floor, quickly falling into a heavy slumber. He had always been a cautious man, yet now he cared for nothing and slept without fear.

Had he grown indifferent to life and death? No one could say, but Su Fan knew that Master Zhao would not allow him to die just yet.

The carriage wheels sang a soothing rhythm as they rolled along. Su Fan awoke, leaning drowsily against the side, listening to the wheels and lost in thought.

A long time passed. The carriage did not stop, but Su Fan felt no impatience, for the air inside was fragrant with the delicate scent of flowers.

Suddenly, the carriage halted. Su Fan drained his jug and leapt out.

Outside was a vast empty space, with only a grand mansion before him. Hanging above the entrance was a plaque: "Residence of the Su Family."

It resembled the dwelling of an official, likely the residence of a magistrate surnamed Su.

No sooner had Su Fan stepped down than a well-dressed, prosperous-looking boy approached. From the boy’s appearance and attire, Su Fan surmised that the master of this house must be a kind man.

If an official treated his servants well, perhaps he was truly a good man. Yet Su Fan cared little for the man’s character, for he already knew his purpose: to persuade the Imperial City to cooperate with Luo City.

At this moment, Su Fan almost hoped Lord Su was a villain who preyed on the people, for villains had more flaws—easier to persuade or manipulate.

After all, there were almost no cultivators in the Imperial City, while the Heavenly Origin Sect was powerful indeed. The Imperial City could not resist them. Even if there were rumors of profound forces hidden within the Imperial City, enough to make the Heavenly Origin Sect wary, those were based only on the city’s respect for the sect.

If Lord Su was truly a good official, he would never stand by and watch the city’s people suffer the wrath of the Heavenly Origin Sect.

The jade tube handed to him by Daoist Liu, Su Fan examined carefully, scrutinizing every detail. Master Zhao’s caution was terrifying—one wrong move and he could lose his life.

Upon entering the main hall, Su Fan sat down. There were only three seats, two of them already occupied. No maids or servants attended—clearly, this was a meeting of great importance.

The man seated at the center radiated a gentle authority, both amiable and dignified, commanding respect effortlessly. Yet Su Fan could tell at a glance that he was only a mortal. Still, something about the man struck Su Fan as oddly familiar, as if he had known him all his life. When he looked again, he could not find the reason for this sense of kinship.

The man to the left was Daoist Liu, whom Su Fan recognized, though he had always found him peculiar. Daoist Liu rarely spoke, but acted with utmost efficiency—a trusted retainer of Master Zhao, no doubt.

The man at the center nodded in greeting, and Su Fan responded with a smile.

Suddenly, Daoist Liu spoke, his voice heavy and commanding, impossible to ignore. “Now that our Deputy General has arrived, I wonder what Lord Su thinks of this matter.”

Su Fan’s heart skipped—Master Zhao had already named him Deputy General.

Lord Su smiled faintly and turned to Su Fan, “What guarantees can you give our Imperial City, General Su?”

Su Fan glanced at Daoist Liu, and replied with a gentle smile, “I can guarantee the safety of every citizen in the Imperial City.”

Lord Su drew a long breath and sighed, “The Heavenly Origin Sect is formidable. We dare not risk offending them.”

Su Fan smiled, “But the Imperial City pays the sect a great deal of tribute already.”

Lord Su’s face darkened—Su Fan had struck a nerve. Daoist Liu, who had been unaware of these particulars, looked up, his face showing rare admiration.

Su Fan had learned all this from the tavern, where patrons loved to gossip. Though he had spent only a brief time there, he had gleaned much about the Imperial City.

Lord Su’s expression shifted to a bitter smile, “This is a grave matter. I must report to His Majesty.”

Su Fan rose slowly, his gaze dim, and asked softly, “I am Su Fan. May I ask, my lord, your honored name?”

Lord Su smiled, “I am Su Wenyuan.”

Su Fan’s eyes suddenly grew distant—Su Wenyuan. How familiar that name was! Countless times, in the dead of night, he had heard his mother murmur that name. Because of that name, he had fought with the other village boys. Again and again, he had repeated that name to himself—it was his father’s name.

Su Fan had thought he would never see his father again, yet here he was, before him. But he almost wished it were not so. The bond of blood was unmistakable, especially for a cultivator. Su Fan could hardly believe it.

The Imperial City’s Imperial Son-in-law, a high official second only to the ruler himself—this was his father.

Su Fan struggled to suppress the turmoil in his heart—perhaps it was no longer anger, but sorrow, the despair of seeing his faith shattered. It was like a child’s favorite toy, suddenly broken.

A child might weep aloud, but Su Fan could not. Instead, he smiled and said, “You greatly resemble an old acquaintance of mine, Lord Su. But now I see I was mistaken.”

Lord Su smiled, “Allow me to escort you both to your lodgings. In three days, I will have an answer for you.”

Su Fan and Daoist Liu clasped their hands in salute and departed.

The carriage retraced its route. Daoist Liu remained silent, but Su Fan failed to notice that the man, who once had no arms, was now using two hands to check his pulse.

Suddenly, Daoist Liu laughed, “Is your heart troubled, General Su?”

Su Fan came to himself, replying, “When did you come to have both arms, Daoist Liu?”

Daoist Liu smiled, “They appear when needed.”

Before Su Fan could respond, Daoist Liu pressed a wine jug to his lips, cutting off any reply.

The two drank in silence. Daoist Liu’s jug was remarkable—never empty, filled with common grain wine, the sort found in every tavern.

Yet, Su Fan felt as though he truly could become drunk, though cultivators were immune to such effects.

Daoist Liu, however, was already intoxicated. Slurring his words, he asked, “Do you know why Nameless wanted to wipe out the Azure Pavilion and the Ransuo Sect?”

Su Fan said nothing.

Daoist Liu continued, “A hundred years ago, a boy followed his father from a small village to Luo City. The city was bustling, but his father had business and left the boy outside a storytellers’ hall. The boy loved to listen to the old storytellers, and he sat there so long his legs went numb. Still, his father did not return. The storyteller’s gavel rapped, and the boy came to his senses.

Suddenly he realized he must search for his father. He searched for a long while before learning that his father had been killed by men from the General’s Mansion. Youthful and hot-blooded, the boy wanted revenge, but the General’s Mansion was filled with cultivators—far beyond his reach.

Fortunately, the General’s Mansion did not trouble him, and the boy learned the difference between mortals and cultivators. He resolved to become a cultivator himself. The Azure Pavilion was the best choice, so he knelt before its gates for ten days, but they ignored him. Unwilling to give up, he went to the Ransuo Sect, who pretended to take him in, only to plot to use him in alchemy as a living ingredient.

He escaped after a thousand hardships, reduced to a beggar in Luo City. A storyteller took pity on him and sheltered him.

That boy was Nameless. If you think his actions ruthless, it is only because you have not suffered as he did.”

Su Fan was silent, his thoughts turning elsewhere—he resolved to return to the Su Residence.