Chapter Nine: Farewell

Icicle Technique was originally a basic elemental spell for novice cultivators, but the assailant hiding in the shadows was clearly far more advanced than Liang Yan. The ice spike now lodged in his abdomen remained frozen and unyielding, emanating waves of bone-chilling cold, as if freezing his very blood.

Clenching his teeth, Liang Yan scanned his surroundings. Beneath the dark night, the trees stood in vague silhouette; not a soul was to be seen. It was clear his attacker was a cultivator skilled in the arts of stealth and assassination.

Realizing this, Liang Yan rolled to his feet, his upper body arched back, left hand supporting his head, right arm curved over his back, assuming the “Dozing Posture.”

He circulated his unnamed cultivation technique, his mind expanding ten miles in every direction; every tree and rock, every blade of grass and fluttering insect, entered his awareness without omission.

He saw clearly: behind a certain large tree, a tall young man lurked, eyes vigilant and fixed on him. This was none other than Chen Chong’s elder cousin, Chen Hu!

It turned out that Chen Chong had harbored grand ambitions from the start—he planned to first collude with Tang Yan and Xu Kun to deal with Liang Yan, then, together with his cousin Chen Hu, swoop in to eliminate Tang Yan and Xu Kun, reaping all the rewards for themselves.

But Chen Hu was by nature cautious. Though at the third level of Qi Refinement, he hadn’t rushed to act, instead choosing to observe from the shadows. Upon witnessing Liang Yan’s strange abilities, he realized that even if he struck, victory was not assured; thus, he resolved to attack from ambush.

Chen Hu was never known for familial affection; seeing his cousin perish moved him not at all. Instead, he chose the moment when Liang Yan had just slain a formidable foe and was at his most unguarded, launching a thunderous attack that left Liang Yan gravely wounded.

“This brat’s body is tough—clearly a physical cultivator. I’d best avoid a direct confrontation.”

“He’s been struck by my enhanced Icicle Technique; by now, the cold toxin should have seeped through his body. If I just remain hidden and deny him the chance to meditate and recover, I can finish him with a killing blow when his strength is depleted! Heh, then all their storage pouches will be mine.”

Chen Hu was savoring his scheme when, suddenly, he saw Liang Yan push off the ground and charge straight toward him.

“Damn! Could he possibly see through my hiding place?”

Liang Yan moved with astonishing speed; before Chen Hu could process it, Liang Yan was within thirty feet. Panic-stricken, Chen Hu rapidly formed hand seals—two icicles materialized and shot toward Liang Yan.

Casting two Icicle Techniques at once left Chen Hu pale, yet he dared not be negligent and quickly retreated.

Liang Yan neither dodged nor flinched, charging directly into the path of the oncoming icicles. He twisted just enough to avoid his vital points, but both icicles struck home. Gritting his teeth, Liang Yan endured the pain, planted his feet, arched his back, placed his left hand atop his right arm, and then with all his strength punched forward—the “One Fist Posture.”

“Has this kid gone mad?” The thought flashed through Chen Hu’s mind as he hastily formed another seal, firing off a third icicle and conjuring an ice crystal shield before him.

But the force of Liang Yan’s punch howled through the air, shattering the icicles and shield like paper. The punch landed squarely on Chen Hu’s chest, pulverizing the protective inner armor gifted by his sect, passing through flesh and bone. Chen Hu’s eyes bulged wide in death; he could not have died more thoroughly.

It is often said: “Form arises from the heart.” Yet for the old monk, it seemed the reverse. Liang Yan was naturally cautious, never one to risk his life lightly. But in deploying the “One Fist Posture,” both body and mind were swept up by its aura—an unbidden surge of supreme confidence, as if he alone stood above all others. In that instant, the world itself seemed no match for the punch of his right hand. By the time he regained his senses, Chen Hu was already dead.

Exhaling deeply, Liang Yan sat cross-legged and began silently circulating his unnamed cultivation technique to expel the cold toxin from his body.

It was the dead of night, the sky ink-black, not a star in sight. For Liang Yan, this night had been endless. Since apprenticing with the old monk, he had never faced another cultivator in combat. He had not expected his first encounter to be a three-on-one ambush, followed by a deadly sneak attack. Every step had been fraught with peril; even with his maturity beyond his years, he could not help but feel a wave of lingering dread.

“Though this is a remote mountain forest, many have come for tonight’s auction. After such a fierce battle, I may attract unwanted attention. I should leave as soon as possible.” With that thought, Liang Yan quickly suppressed his injuries, collected the fallen cultivators’ storage pouches, and hurried toward the town.

...

Halfway up the mountain, in the town below, the drifting clouds inn. In an elegantly appointed corridor, hurried footsteps echoed before stopping at a guestroom door. The door swung open, and in stepped a boy of about ten, his face streaked with blood, utterly exhausted.

It was Liang Yan, who had just escaped the harrowing fight, his nerves on edge the entire way. As he entered, he saw an emaciated old monk sitting cross-legged by a dim oil lamp, eyes filled with concern as he gazed at him.

Only now did Liang Yan’s taut nerves relax, a surge of relief flooding him.

“Good child, come here.”

“Yes,” Liang Yan replied, stepping forward.

The old monk raised a hand, sketching a circle in the air, then formed a single-handed seal. Out of thin air, a golden lotus blossom appeared, its petals unfolding with vibrant life. With a flick of the monk’s hand, the lotus spun and floated into Liang Yan’s body.

As the lotus entered him, Liang Yan felt a searing pain rip through his body, but to his astonishment, his wounds began to heal with visible speed.

He gasped, grimacing at the old monk. “Are you saving me or butchering a pig?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them—how could he have insulted himself as well?

The old monk, seeing him so flustered for the first time, guessed he must have endured a fierce battle tonight.

“How many did you kill?”

Liang Yan paused before answering, “Four.”

“Did they deserve it?”

“They did!” Liang Yan replied without hesitation.

Unexpectedly, the old monk did not lecture him today, but merely nodded in silence.

Uncertain of his mentor’s intent, Liang Yan said nothing more. The oil lamp flickered, and the two sat together in silence.

After a while, the old monk broke the quiet, looking at Liang Yan and saying slowly, “Our fates have run their course. It is time for us to part.”

These words struck Liang Yan like a thunderbolt. If not for the old monk’s intervention after his family’s calamity, he would have been long dead. For the past year, the monk had been both teacher and father to him. Now, to hear these words was unbearable. He choked out, “Why? Is it because my talent is too poor, that I’m no more than rotten wood?”

The old monk had often said his spiritual roots were mixed and his talent poor; only ten times the perseverance of others would grant him the slimmest chance at the Dao.

The old monk sighed. “Not so. Your talent may be lacking, but your mind is keen, your spirit resilient; with such qualities, you may yet break through to the higher path.”

“Then why?”

“I have long been tracking a formidable foe. Recently, I received word of him. In the past, we fought to a draw; now, even I cannot guarantee victory. I do not know if I will live or die, and I can no longer keep you with me.” He looked at Liang Yan with regret.

“What enemy is so powerful? If you take me with you, perhaps—”

Before he could finish, the old monk cut him off sternly, “No!”

Liang Yan’s heart turned cold. He knew the old monk, genial as he was, never went back on a decision. Realizing that after today, their fates would be uncertain, he blurted out, “Master!”

He dropped to his knees, knocking his head three times on the floor.

Though the old monk never allowed him to use that title, he did not correct him now. Instead, he gently patted Liang Yan’s head. “Good child, rise.”

As Liang Yan stood, the old monk suddenly formed a hand seal and pressed a finger to Liang Yan’s lower abdomen.

Liang Yan felt a sharp pain in his dantian as his spiritual energy surged out of control. Then, before his eyes, a bead the size of a ring emerged from his dantian, swirling with black and white energies, a nebula-like mist coiling around it.

Stunned, Liang Yan heard the old monk say, “This is the object responsible for the deaths of three hundred thirty-six mortals in Huaiyuan Town, the very thing Yan the Blind seeks. It is called the Celestial Mechanism Pearl. Its origins are shrouded in mystery, and even I do not fully know its functions. But one thing is certain: it can obscure the workings of fate. While you carry it, unless someone of vastly higher cultivation scrutinizes you, your true level will remain hidden.”

“When you were gravely injured and unconscious, I drove away the Fire King and seized this pearl. Later, while you slept, I refined it into your body.”

Liang Yan listened in astonishment, his face growing complicated as he gazed at the pearl.

The old monk, seeing his thoughts, said gently, “Weapons and treasures are neither good nor evil; all grudges and favors are born of men. This thing brought you disaster, but may one day bring you fortune. Blessing or curse—it all depends on you.”

Liang Yan drew a deep breath and nodded solemnly. “I understand, Master.”

The old monk looked pleased. “Take good care of it. Never reveal it before others. Remember—”

Before he could finish, a sudden change occurred. Liang Yan’s storage pouch trembled violently; from within, a wooden fish leapt out.

The Celestial Mechanism Pearl seemed to sense something; a beam of multicolored light shot from it, striking the wooden fish.

Cracks appeared on the wooden fish, growing rapidly until it finally split apart. From within, a mass of black mist erupted, vaguely forming a human face with two horns and fangs.

“Hahaha! That damned monk trapped me for a hundred years, but at last I am free!” The face howled with laughter, then glared spitefully at Liang Yan and the old monk. “Hmph! A mortal and a first-level novice—barely enough for a snack, but since I’ve just escaped, I’ll make do!”

With that, the face opened its mouth, sending a torrent of demonic energy surging toward them.

The old monk frowned and prepared to act. But the Celestial Mechanism Pearl reacted even faster, shooting out a ray of black and white light. The demonic energy met the ray and instantly dissipated, and the face, as if meeting its nemesis, turned to flee.

But the black and white light was faster, instantly overtaking and wrapping around the face.

The Celestial Mechanism Pearl spun, circling the struggling face. Liang Yan could almost sense its intent, as if a lion examining its prey.

After a moment, the pearl shuddered, seemingly dissatisfied. It sent out a black ray, striking the face. The face twisted in agony, then disintegrated into dust, leaving only a wisp of demonic energy, which the pearl absorbed.

Around the pearl, four black orbs appeared, revolving slowly. On one, the faint character for “Demon” flickered before fading away.

The old monk cast a spell, and the pearl spun back into Liang Yan’s dantian and vanished.

No sooner had it entered than Liang Yan felt a warm current flow from his core, spreading along his meridians to every part of his body, filling him with a gentle, pervasive comfort.

Suddenly, the old monk barked, “Boy, your fortune has arrived. Calm your mind, circulate your cultivation—prepare to break through to the second level of Qi Refinement!”

At his words, Liang Yan quickly steadied himself, silently ran his unnamed technique, and felt the warm currents welling up to cleanse his meridians, his aura surging higher and higher...

He did not know how much time had passed before he slowly opened his eyes and exhaled a cloud of turbid air. Outside the window, the sun had just risen; birds and beasts called out in the dawn. A lazy beam of light fell across his body. Across from him, the old monk sat cross-legged, smiling with approval.

“Peak of the second level of Qi Refinement—not bad.”