Chapter Eight: Reunion

The underlying threat in his words was unmistakable.

However, Song Yan’s confidence didn’t come solely from the backing of the Dongyuan Sect.

Among these three, only Lu Xiaowei had reached the third level of Qi Refining; the other two were merely at the first level. Where they found the nerve to be so aggressive was anyone’s guess.

If Sheng Nian had known more about cultivation, with his years of martial training, he could have easily dispatched the two at the first level, provided he moved quickly enough.

Most of these wandering cultivators from the wilds were people unqualified to enter a sect or had been expelled due to poor aptitude. Their combat skills were negligible, and even their manipulation of spiritual energy was clumsy at best. Even if all three attacked at once, they were no match for Song Yan.

Xu Darong and Sheng Yun flanked Sheng Nian, supporting him on either side. When they saw the face beneath the conical hat, they called out in delight.

“Yesheng!”

“Brother Yan Yan!”

Song Yan approached at an unhurried pace, slinging his hat over his back.

“Senior Brother Zhao, you’ve worked hard.”

“Not at all.”

Zhao Fengcheng waved off the thanks.

He was, in a sense, half a disciple of Dongyuan Sect, having joined the sect decades before Song Yan. It was only proper to address him as Senior Brother with a touch of respect.

Within the sect’s outer court, many disciples with poor aptitude stagnated for decades; once they grew older, they either accepted that immortality was out of reach or were simply expelled from the mountain. Returning to the mundane world, a cultivator at the third level of Qi Refining could barely count as a martial arts master.

Some refused to resign themselves to fate, and if the sect approved, they might be sent down to the villages or districts within the sect’s sphere of influence as resident guardians. If they discovered any promising youth, they could report to the sect and receive a reward. Most of the time, their role was to sit in residence and protect the local populace.

Such was Zhao Fengcheng’s role—he was the resident guardian of Shiliang Town, and it was he who had chosen Song Yan years ago and sent him to Dongyuan Sect.

In a way, Zhao was his guide on this path.

“Friend Lu, the protective jade talisman you carried is shattered. If you persist, you’ll be in real danger.”

Song Yan moved to stand before Lu Xiaowei, patting his shoulder—a subtle trace of energy brushed over him.

“I, too, wish to return to the sect and report quickly… Perhaps it’s best if you all take your leave now.”

He gazed down at the three of them, his expression and tone carrying a palpable threat.

Only now did Song Yan truly understand what it felt like to become stronger.

His enhanced spiritual sense made casting spells that once felt clumsy now smooth and fluent, and the elevation of his spiritual power simply made his techniques more potent.

The two spells he’d just used—Vine Bind and Fiery Glyph—would have been difficult to control, in terms of energy flow and direction, without his current spiritual awareness, let alone combine them so seamlessly.

Song Yan thought to himself that he ought to speed up his study of that nameless incantation. The urge to master the art of splitting his consciousness into seventeen streams grew ever stronger.

Lu Xiaowei stared at him coldly, eyes filled with venom.

The protective talisman bestowed by his master!

That was a treasure capable of withstanding a full-force strike from someone at the peak of Qi Refining! And now, because of this man’s interference, it had been destroyed by a mere mortal’s blade.

His heart bled.

“Fine, fine… I admit defeat. We’re leaving.”

Lu Xiaowei’s two junior brothers helped him away.

Zhao Fengcheng, though over forty, was not a man of great courage or ambition. He shifted uneasily and hesitated before speaking. “Junior Brother Song… those men…”

“It’s nothing. I’ll find them again.”

Song Yan’s tone was calm.

Zhao Fengcheng was taken aback. “Find them?”

“They claim they’re here looking for some ‘opportunity’ in Shiliang Town… Senior Brother Zhao, this place is so poor you can barely dig up two pounds of dirt with a shovel—what opportunity could there be?”

Back in his hometown, Song Yan’s speech became more casual.

“They must have some other scheme. Since they’re here, I might as well get to the bottom of it.”

“Hm…” Zhao Fengcheng nodded, deep in thought.

Song Yan approached the Sheng siblings, green light flickering over his hand as he pressed lightly on Sheng Nian’s shoulder.

“Fresh wounds on top of old ones—do you still want to keep this arm?”

“Ah… heh heh…”

Blood trickled from Sheng Nian’s mouth, but he managed a grin. “Whether I keep it or not—Doctor Song has the final say.”

Sheng Yun quickly asked, “Brother Yan Yan, how’s my brother?”

“Hopeless.”

Song Yan shook his head, startling everyone.

“The wounds are fine, but he’s always been thick-headed—there’s no cure for that.”

“Bah, you quack. I ought to tear your foul mouth apart…”

Sheng Nian spat out a mouthful of clotted blood, feeling much relieved.

“Haha!”

Sheng Yun giggled at her brothers’ banter.

Looking at the girl before him—Sheng Nian’s younger sister—Song Yan measured her height with a gesture of surprise.

“You’ve grown so tall!”

“Of course!”

At that moment, Uncle Meng and Aunt Meng approached with their daughter.

“Yesheng, thank goodness you arrived… I… I…”

Meng Tongzhou’s old eyes filled with tears, the terror lingering in his voice.

“Please, Uncle Meng, don’t be so formal.”

“When my grandfather was alive, he often took me to your house for meals.”

“And besides, Lulu and I grew up together…”

Meng Lu, their daughter, was fourteen now—quiet and shy. After the ordeal, she was still a bit shaken, but she had changed much from the little girl Song Yan remembered.

“It’s been a year and a half. You’ve grown too.”

Song Yan smiled at her, easy and informal. “Later, ask Senior Brother Zhao to test your spiritual roots. If you have the talent, someone will come to take you up the mountain and into the sect.”

Meng Lu said nothing, but nodded resolutely.

Seeing that Song Yan hadn’t put on the lofty airs of an ‘immortal’ and was as approachable as ever, the villagers felt comfortable enough to gather around and greet him.

“Ah Sheng! Haven’t seen you for more than a year—you look thinner.”

“Old woman, what are you saying… Of course he’s thinner, he’s grown taller.”

“That’s true!”

Familiar faces filled Song Yan’s view.

“Manager Liu.”

“Aunt Zhao…”

As they chatted, Sheng Nian managed to recover his knife, grimacing in pain but stubborn as ever. “Come, let’s go home for a meal.”

“Let’s go!”

…

Outside Shiliang Town, at the Peach Blossom Pavilion.

“Senior Brother, are you all right?”

“Cough… I’m fine. Luckily it was only a mundane weapon—not a deep wound.”

Lu Xiaowei sat cross-legged, slowly circulating his spiritual energy.

“Senior Brother, the person Master sent us to find—could it be that Song fellow?”

“I don’t think so…”

Lu Xiaowei’s frown grew deeper.

“Master sent us to find a mortal. That Song is far beyond the early stage of Qi Refining—how could the three of us possibly subdue him?”

“Years ago, that martial man Tong Chuping fled here with a disciple token from Sheyang Sect and died in Shiliang Town…”

“Thinking it over, the one Master spoke of…”

“It must be that constable named Sheng.”