Chapter Fifty: The Youth’s Bitter Fate

The bustling avenue was thronged with endless streams of people. Inside the tavern, the raucous shouts of brawny men never ceased—there was the clamor of dice games, the boisterous cajoling to drink, and the ever-present murmur of gambling. Of course, the commotion of drunkards making a scene was not absent either. In the corner of the tavern, Su Fan lay slumped over, appearing thoroughly inebriated. Yet he did not join the drunken revelry; he simply remained sprawled there, as if too far gone to even stir.

As the daylight gradually faded, the crowd in the tavern did not thin; instead, it grew even more lively. Perhaps the noise became too much, for Su Fan was roused from his stupor. He slowly lifted his head, his eyes bleary with sleep. The scene before him left him confused—he remembered passing through a teleportation array, but what came after was a blank.

No sooner had Su Fan raised his head than a serving boy approached, his expression fawning. "Sir, is there anything you need?" he asked obsequiously.

Impatiently, Su Fan demanded, "Where am I?"

The boy replied in surprise, "Why, this is the Imperial City! You're not a local, are you, sir?"

Su Fan nodded and asked again, "How did I get here?"

"Three days ago, a government official brought you here," the boy explained. "He told me to let you know that, when you woke, you should step outside and walk a hundred paces."

Su Fan gave a bitter laugh and left the tavern. He was not fond of wine—yet the fragrance of the drink was so enticing that, as he departed, he casually picked up a wine jug.

The street was growing dim, but lanterns blazed, the city radiating a vibrant glow that did not pale in the least beside Luo City. Su Fan wandered along the avenue, counting his steps as he drank from the jug. Soon, he found himself chuckling, for he had lost count—he had forgotten to tally even a mere hundred paces. The thought was rather amusing.

For one whose heart was heavy with frustration and resignation, this was perhaps only natural—especially when each step was accompanied by another swig from the wine jug.

He did not know how far he had walked when he came to a halt. A tall, luxurious carriage blocked his path. Su Fan smiled faintly and climbed inside. There was no one within, nor was there a driver, yet the carriage began to move of its own accord. With a long sigh, Su Fan lay down and drifted into a heavy sleep.

He had always been a cautious man, yet now he slept without a care. Had he come to regard life and death with indifference? No one could say, but Su Fan knew that Master Zhao would not allow him to die just yet.

The sound of carriage wheels was soothing to the ear. Su Fan had awakened, leaning against the side, listening to the wheels rumble over the road, lost in thought.

A long while passed, yet the carriage did not stop. Still, Su Fan felt no impatience—inside, the air was fragrant, redolent with the scent of ordinary blossoms.

Suddenly, the carriage halted. Su Fan finished the last of the wine in a single draught, then swiftly alighted.

Outside, the space was vast and empty, save for a single grand residence, upon which hung a plaque inscribed with "Su Residence." The mansion resembled the official quarters of a high-ranking magistrate, clearly belonging to a Su family dignitary.

No sooner had Su Fan disembarked than he was greeted by a doorman. The boy was plump, dressed in fine clothes—which suggested the master here was a benevolent soul. If an official treated his servants well, perhaps he was a good man after all.

Yet Su Fan cared little for whether this Su official was good or not. He knew his purpose for coming: to persuade the Imperial City to ally with Luo City.

At that moment, Su Fan almost wished this Lord Su were a corrupt villain, for only the wicked reveal flaws that can be exploited in negotiation. After all, there were hardly any cultivators in the Imperial City, whereas the Tianyuan Sect was immensely powerful; the city could not possibly stand against them. Even if rumors spoke of deep connections that made even the Tianyuan Sect wary, that caution only persisted as long as the Imperial City respected their authority.

If Lord Su truly was a good official, he would never stand by and watch his people suffer under the wrath of the Tianyuan Sect.

The jade tube handed to Su Fan by Daoist Liu was studied carefully—he examined every detail again and again. Master Zhao's caution struck Su Fan as terrifying; a single misstep could mean death.

Once inside the main hall, Su Fan took a seat. Each chair was occupied—though there were but three seats in all, with only two people present, and Su Fan made the third. There were no maids or servants—evidently, this was a meeting of great import.

The man seated at the center exuded warmth and dignity, a quiet authority that commanded respect. Yet Su Fan was certain he was a mortal. As he glanced over, an odd sensation stirred in his heart—a strange sense of familiarity. But when he looked again, he could not place the feeling.

The man on the left was someone Su Fan recognized: Daoist Liu, whose peculiarities always puzzled him. Daoist Liu rarely spoke, but his actions were decisive—surely another of Master Zhao's retainers.

The man at the center nodded to Su Fan in greeting, and Su Fan returned his smile.

Suddenly, Daoist Liu spoke. His voice was deep and forceful, brooking no opposition. "Now that our Deputy General has arrived, I wonder what Lord Su's thoughts are on this matter?"

Su Fan was taken aback. Master Zhao had already named him Deputy General.

Lord Su smiled slightly and looked at Su Fan. "I wonder what assurances you can give our Imperial City, General Su?"

Su Fan glanced at Daoist Liu and replied with a smile, "I can guarantee the safety and peace of all the people in the Imperial City."

Lord Su took a deep breath and sighed, "The Tianyuan Sect is very powerful—we dare not offend them."

Su Fan smiled. "Yet the city offers them ample tribute each year."

Lord Su's face darkened—clearly, Su Fan had struck a nerve. Daoist Liu, unaware of this detail until now, lifted his head in admiration.

Su Fan had not originally known such secrets, but taverns were always places of legend and rumor. In the short time he had spent there, he had overheard many things about the Imperial City from the patrons.

Lord Su's expression shifted, and he managed a bitter smile. "This is a grave matter. I must report to His Majesty before giving an answer."

Su Fan slowly rose, his gaze dim. "My name is Su Fan. Might I ask, Lord, what is your full name?"

Lord Su replied with a gentle smile, "My name is Su Wenyuan."

Su Fan's eyes turned dazed—Su Wenyuan, a name so achingly familiar. How many times, in the stillness of midnight, had he heard his mother's murmured laments? How many times had he quarreled with village children over that very name? How many times had he recited it silently in his heart—that name belonging to his father?

Su Fan had thought he would never see his father again. Yet now, against all odds, he was here. And yet, he almost wished it were not so—for in the hearts of cultivators, the pull of blood ties was even stronger, and Su Fan hardly dared to believe it.

The Imperial City's Prince Consort, second only to the Emperor, lord over tens of thousands—was his own father.

Su Fan suppressed the tumult in his heart. Perhaps it was not anger, but grief, the despair of a shattered faith. Like a child whose dearest toy is suddenly broken—yet while a child may cry out loud, Su Fan could not. He smiled and said, "You remind me greatly of an old friend, Lord Su. But now I see that you are not him."

Lord Su smiled amiably. "Allow me to escort you both back to your lodgings. I will give you my answer in three days."

Su Fan and Daoist Liu bowed and left.

The carriage retraced its path. Daoist Liu remained silent, and Su Fan did not notice that, although Daoist Liu had once lacked arms, he was now using both hands to take Su Fan's pulse.

Suddenly, Daoist Liu laughed. "Is General Su troubled?" he asked.

Su Fan returned to himself with a start. "Daoist Liu, when did you grow a pair of hands?"

Daoist Liu chuckled. "I have them when I need them."

Before Su Fan could reply, Daoist Liu pressed a wine jug into his hands, silencing him. The two drank in silence. Daoist Liu's wine jug was peculiar—it never ran dry, though it held nothing more than the common grain wine served in any tavern.

Yet Su Fan found himself growing tipsy, though as a cultivator, he should never become drunk. Daoist Liu, however, was already in his cups. He slurred, "Do you know why the Nameless One destroyed Qingyuan Pavilion and Ransuo Sect?"

Su Fan said nothing.

Daoist Liu continued, "A hundred years ago, there was a boy who followed his father from a small village to Luo City. Luo City was bustling, and while the father attended to business, he left the boy before a storytellers' hall. The boy loved listening to the old men spin their tales, and he did not know how much time had passed—his legs had grown numb from crouching, but his father did not return. When the storyteller's gavel fell, the boy came to his senses. He set out to find his father, and after searching for a long time, he learned that his father had been beaten to death by men from the General's Mansion.

"The boy was young and hot-blooded; he wanted revenge. But the General's Mansion was full of cultivators—how could a boy hope to strike back? Fortunately, they did not trouble him further. He came to realize the gulf between mortals and cultivators, and resolved to seek immortality himself.

"Qingyuan Pavilion was the best choice, so he knelt at their gate for ten days, but they ignored him. Unwilling to give up, he went to Ransuo Sect. They feigned acceptance, but secretly meant to use him for alchemical experiments. He escaped after a thousand trials and ended up on the streets of Luo City, where an old storyteller took pity on him and took him in.

"That boy was the Nameless One. If you think his actions are ruthless, it's only because you have not suffered as he has."

Su Fan fell silent. Yet his thoughts drifted elsewhere—he was already planning to return to the Su Residence.