Chapter 266: Wearing Down the Eternal Blade in the Heart
Above the Dragon Lizard Trench, Chen Ping'an stared blankly at the green-robed sword cultivator who called himself the senior brother.
The boy scrunched up his face, his lips trembling, then lowered his head.
The sword cultivator with the peculiar name said crossly, "Going to cry? How are you just like Xiao Qi back in the day? No wonder he chose you. Can't win with reason, can't win in a fight, so you hide and cry every time, tears dripping down like raindrops."
The sword cultivator suddenly barked sternly, "Lift your head!"
Chen Ping'an lifted his head in a daze.
The man demanded, "Why did you change your mind at the last moment? Why choose to strike with your fist instead of your sword? Answer loudly, don't be so hesitant!"
Chen Ping'an blurted out instinctively, "My swordsmanship is too poor, I don't want to embarrass myself there! My fist technique is passable, and if I don't use it, I won't feel satisfied!"
"Hah! With martial fist intent like yours, you dare call it passable?"
The man's face was full of anger as he turned and spat forcefully. He lacked the refined bearing of Qi Jingchun or the easygoing manner of A Liang. This swordsman named Zuo You, the most unorthodox disciple of the Sage of Culture, really didn't seem like a scholar at all. But the hidden amusement deep in his eyes grew thicker and thicker. His expression turned cold as he raised his arm again, pointing his thumb behind him. "Not to mention this Dragon Lizard Trench, let's just talk about that statue on the island. I found it blocking my path, so I cut it down with a single sword stroke. What do you think of that? And this stinking ditch—I found those beasts offensive, so I scoured it clean with my sword aura. What do you think of that?"
Chen Ping'an answered honestly, "I suppose that's a bit unreasonable."
But remembering this man was Qi Jingchun's senior brother, he quickly added one word, "Right?"
The man scoffed, "You speak politely. 'A bit' unreasonable? It was completely unreasonable!"
He pressed his palm against the hilt of the sword at his waist and asked, "Do you know why I, a scholar, put more effort into learning the sword than into studying books?"
Chen Ping'an shook his head.
He had only heard A Liang and the young Cui Chan occasionally mention this man. The former didn't say much, only that he was the best swordsman among the old scholar's disciples. The latter gnashed his teeth, saying that a disciple who had betrayed his master and a disciple who had strayed from tradition—former fellow disciples—seemed to have an irreconcilable enmity. In the end, "that fellow named Zuo" in Chen Ping'an's eyes was like a hidden dragon in the clouds—unreachable and unfathomable.
This sword cultivator, who hailed from orthodox Confucianism, waved his hand. "There's nothing for you here. Cultivate well from now on. Don't let Xiao Qi's high hopes for you down. If you ever fall short, I might just come looking for you."
The man suspended in the Dragon Lizard Trench extended a finger toward Chen Ping'an. "No matter how high your realm, it's just one sword stroke."
To him, a senior brother disciplining a junior brother was only natural.
Reason or not? He never bothered to think about it. Being the senior brother was reason enough.
Just then, the sea of clouds suddenly lowered, and a golden dharma body a hundred zhang tall materialized—a middle-aged Daoist with a crown shaped like a fish tail. "So you are the disciple of the Sage of Culture, the sword cultivator Zuo You? I hear many people acclaim you as the greatest swordsman in the mortal world. Even at Inverted Mountain and the Sword Qi Great Wall, you have many admirers."
The green-robed sword cultivator looked up. "From your tone, it sounds like you're not convinced?"
The towering Daoist laughed heartily. "I couldn't care less about your swordsmanship ranking. I just find you irritating. What do you say we find a place and have a proper fight?"
The sword cultivator smiled. "You stinking Daoist ox-nose, you're no good at anything except being luckier than me, landing the Second of the Dao as your master. My master is no match for yours in many ways, but there's one thing the old scholar has over the Second of the Dao: he has me as his disciple. All thirteen or so disciples of the Second of the Dao, including you..."
The green-robed man raised one finger, holding it high and shaking it gently. "No good."
He wasn't done. Lifting his head, he continued, "Even if you conjure up a dharma body this big, before my sword... it's not enough!"
Before the man's words even settled.
From the sea, a hundred-zhang wave surged. A colossal sword aura, thicker than the entire Osmanthus Island, shot up into the sky in the form of a pillar of light, shattering the golden dharma body in an instant.
The small boat under Chen Ping'an's feet, caught in the aftermath, bobbed and tilted violently.
He turned to look at the snow-white sword aura that pierced the heavens.
Earlier, he had thought Wei Jin of Wind Snow Temple splitting the night with his sword against the bride-clad female ghost was the ultimate in flying swords.
Now he realized he was still too ignorant.
The golden dharma body was shattered and broken, but a voice like a great bell still fell from the sky. "I have no intention of taking advantage of you. With that kid around, we can't go all out. How about we go to the Wind God Island sea area?"
At some point, the golden old flood dragon, whose three hundred-plus qi palaces had been filled with sword aura, had lost even the chance to barely hold his qi palaces from exploding.
It turned out that the towering Daoist, who was thousands of miles away, had used some unknown divine ability. Taking advantage of the moment when the golden dharma body was destroyed by the sword aura, he reached into the void with a jade-white finger and tapped the golden-robed old flood dragon on the forehead. In an instant, the latter withered like dry grass, and his heart died from within. Most of his body turned to ash and dissipated into smoke, leaving only a golden robe floating on the sea and some half-immortal remnants condensed from his nascent soul.
The sword cultivator remained utterly unmoved.
He simply waved his hand casually, sweeping the remnants of the golden-robed old flood dragon into Chen Ping'an's small boat. "Keep this junk. On your journey to Inverted Mountain and the Sword Qi Great Wall beyond, good luck."
Chen Ping'an bowed deeply.
The sword cultivator nodded, accepting the bow graciously. Without another word, he flew southwest with the wind, and as he went, he murmured a sentence to himself, the lingering notes of his voice unclear whether he was speaking to himself or to Chen Ping'an.
"Longevity and immortality, roaming freely through mountains and seas, drinking the mists and sipping the dew, refraining from the five grains—this is already being otherworldly."
Chen Ping'an silently sat back down in the small boat. He put the three things the sword cultivator had tossed at his feet into his Flying Sword Fifteen: a golden robe, two intertwined golden dragon whiskers, and a fist-sized bead with a dull, slightly yellow luster, much like the saying "yellowing like old pearl."
Chen Ping'an looked around. Gradually, the wind died down and the waves calmed. He looked up; the sky was clear and the sun was warm.
After resting a moment, he picked up the bamboo pole engraved with a true Lock-Cutting Talisman, stood up, and poled the boat to chase after Osmanthus Island. For a moment, he felt awkward—what if the ferry had sailed straight to Inverted Mountain, leaving him stranded in this vast sea? Chen Ping'an widened his eyes and strained to look into the distance.
If it had been before, Chen Ping'an would never have thought Osmanthus Island might do such a thing.
But now, he didn't even realize he was having such thoughts.
The mind wandering like a galloping horse, unknowingly.
The sword cultivator, who was traveling freely through the wind and sky, unbound by heaven and earth, suddenly stopped. At a place where Chen Ping'an could never see him, he looked back.
What the man saw with his eyes was the boy from Great Li.
But what he thought of in his heart was an old friend.
That person once said, "I don't want you to be Chen Ping'an's protector either, and I know you probably won't agree. But in my life, Qi Jingchun, I have very few friends. Throughout the entire world, you are the only one I can turn to."
"Only you I can turn to!"
Whenever the man thought of this damnable line, he felt a belly full of resentment. He sat down cross-legged, hovering above the sea, his hands clenched into fists resting on his knees.
His fierce sword aura poured out even more, and the seawater beneath him churned and boiled violently, yet the mist couldn't approach him.
Mortals who cultivated qi always envied those naturally gifted sword geniuses, bestowing them the title of "innate sword embryo." But this man had started learning the sword late in life and had never been any kind of sword embryo. So when he burst onto the scene in the Central Lands Divine Continent, he didn't just overpower but crushed countless senior sword cultivators. For those so-called sword embryos, he showed no mercy, mocking them ruthlessly, and his words spread across the world. Countless gifted sword geniuses had their sword hearts shattered and their great dao cut off.
Thus, every young sword genius in the Central Lands, upon being praised as an innate sword embryo, would inevitably feel uneasy, always wondering if those words were an insult.
This sword cultivator was named Zuo You.
"Zuo You"—meaning "left and right," as in "none could surpass him at swordsmanship, left or right."
Even when lost in thought, the man's eyes still shone as brightly as ever.
Earlier, when he gazed at the boy's clear eyes, they were too much like that annoying junior brother he had known in his youth—the one who flaunted his cleverness in reading, doted on by their master, spouting countless sets of sage wisdom, each strand interlocking flawlessly, and who, after insisting that Zuo You admit defeat in debate, would still add, "I feel you didn't truly concede, Senior Brother. That's not right." Annoying to death.
What he hated most in life were his master's bragging about how formidable he was in a fight, and then Xiao Qi's fast page-turning, his voice reciting principles.
He only liked the two occasions when his master participated in the Three Teachings Debates—the aura of a transcendent sage, a scholar as brilliant as the noon sun.
He liked when Qi Jingchun would travel with him to famous mountains and great rivers, then after drinking would climb high and compose poems, making one feel that no matter how high the mountains, a thousand zhang or ten thousand, they could never surpass this man's learning!
But even today, with the old scholar having no path of retreat left, scattered into heaven and earth, with Xiao Qi no longer in this world, and A Liang having left the Bright World, the man still always felt that his master, Xiao Qi, and even that seemingly carefree A Liang, all lived too tiringly.
Not like him.
Because Zuo You had never been bothered to reason with people.
If you can't beat them, reasoning is useless. If you can beat them, there's no need for reasoning.
The sword is enough.
The man sighed, stood up, and continued toward the Wind God Island in the southwestern sea.
Some words, he felt, were too sentimental, so he equally "couldn't be bothered" to say them out loud.
Little junior brother, you must see more of this world for Xiao Qi.
If you get the chance, go see other worlds too, see every single one. Xiao Qi never stepped out of the Bright World in his entire life, and he, among his master's many disciples, was the one who yearned most for distant places. Yet in the end, he was the one who spent the most time in his study and school.
I know exactly how many times Xiao Qi cried in his life. Because it was always in our youth, when I beat him until he cried. What could I do? I couldn't out-argue him, but he couldn't outfight me.
Kid, can you imagine your Mr. Qi crying pathetically, tears streaming down his face?
The man laughed heartily, drew his sword, and shoved it out of its scabbard. Below his feet, dozens of sea islands, large and small, were all cleaved in two.
The mortal world is rather boring.
Only fighting can rouse Zuo You's spirits a little.
---
Between the hastily traveling small boat and the slowly advancing Osmanthus Island, an old man who was actually severely injured waited at sea for Chen Ping'an.
Chen Ping'an grinned. It was that old ferryman with the vast magical powers.
The two of them boarded the small boat and sailed together, quickly catching up to Osmanthus Island. They docked, and Gui Furen stood alone at the pier, her face full of apology. She said to Chen Ping'an, "I will explain today's events clearly to the Fan Clan ancestral hall. Young Master Chen, your life-saving grace, I will never forget!"
Chen Ping'an smiled bitterly and shook his head. "I was just saving myself."
Gui Furen was speechless. She sighed and walked shoulder to shoulder with the old man and the boy to the top of Osmanthus Island.
The old ferryman needed to rest. He bid farewell to Chen Ping'an and went to his quarters. Chen Ping'an walked with Gui Furen to the Gui Vein Small Courtyard. Gui Furen hesitated for a moment, then explained, "Ma Zhi took the lead in the earlier battle defending Osmanthus Island, so he was also injured. He may not be able to spar with you for a while. He asked me to convey his apologies and hopes for your understanding."
Chen Ping'an nodded. "Of course, Senior Ma's recovery takes precedence."
Gui Furen looked a little helpless. "The situation on Osmanthus Island is now somewhat delicate. I'm really not comfortable letting outsiders into this courtyard, not even Jin Su. If you don't mind, Young Master, I'll take care of the food and daily needs of the Gui Vein Small Courtyard myself."
Chen Ping'an quickly waved his hand. "No need, no need. Just send three meals a day like before is fine. If only there was a kitchen here, I could even cook for myself."
Gui Furen smiled and took her leave. "There are many matters to attend to. Young Master Chen, please rest well. If you need anything, just tell me directly. A young attendant from the Osmanthus will wait near the courtyard for you."
Chen Ping'an sat alone on the stone bench in the courtyard, closing his eyes to rest.
Soon, someone knocked on the door. A young Osmanthus attendant said softly from outside, "Young Master Chen, there are two guests from the Snowy Continent. Whether you wish to see them is entirely up to you, as Gui Furen said earlier."
Chen Ping'an got up and opened the door. Besides the Osmanthus Island girl, there was a green-clad boy with a smiling face and a white-haired old woman with a solemn expression.
The boy spoke bluntly, "Benefactor, my name is Liu Youzhou, from the northernmost Snowy Continent. I won't enter the courtyard to disturb your cultivation. I just came to thank you in person."
Chen Ping'an smiled and said, "Alright."
Then there was an awkward silence.
The bamboo-clad boy stared at Chen Ping'an with curiosity, while Chen Ping'an was wondering when the boy would leave.
The old woman broke the silence. "Earlier, that golden-robed evil flood dragon struck at you twice with his sword. The first time, it was too unexpected for me to block. The second time, I still couldn't block it unless I risked my life. But I need to take care of my young master on this trip. So my young master needs to thank you, and I, this old crone, need to apologize."
Chen Ping'an smiled, cupped his fists, and said, "I appreciate the sentiment!"
The old woman nodded, a hint of a smile appearing on her face. "Young master is righteous. If you ever come to the Snowy Continent, you must visit our Liu family."
Chen Ping'an smiled but didn't reply.
The old woman led the bamboo-clad boy surnamed Liu, who was "avoiding the heat," away.
The two passed by a young, beautiful woman. She exchanged glances with Chen Ping'an and said with a smile, "So it's you."
Chen Ping'an was a bit baffled, but the woman had already turned and left.
Chen Ping'an was finally able to turn and go toward the courtyard. He suddenly stopped, turned back, and said with a smile to the uneasy young Osmanthus attendant, "Miss, if anyone else comes looking for me after this, please turn them away for me."
The young attendant nodded vigorously.
For the next two days, Chen Ping'an, contrary to his usual habits, did not practice fist or sword. Instead, he took out his books and bamboo slips, basking in the sun as he read their contents.
Late at night, Chen Ping'an, who had been lying in bed, opened his eyes. He got up, left the house, leaped onto the roof, and took down his Nurturing Sword Gourd to start drinking.
Suddenly, he turned his head. Soon, a figure flew over and sat down beside him. This uninvited guest held two jars of aged wine.
Chen Ping'an smiled sincerely. "Old senior friend, looking for a drinking buddy?"
It was the old ferryman who had fought the golden-robed old flood dragon to the death.
The old man, who had been hiding his identity as a ferryman, laughed heartily. "What, think I'm too grubby?"
Chen Ping'an waved his hand. "Not at all."
The old man removed the clay seal from his wine jar, took a big gulp, and then fell silent for a long time before speaking softly, "After this catastrophe on Osmanthus Island, it's like a pond of water. It was mixed with fish and dragons before, but mostly orderly, everyone minding their own business. Now, it's been stirred up by random pole pokes and has become thoroughly murky. You're right to stay in this small courtyard. Be careful. Though the vast majority know it was you who held back that old beast and quieted the entire Dragon Lizard Trench, I have to say something unpleasant: 'A peck of rice breeds a gallon of enmity.'"
The old man sighed helplessly. "What's more, on the path of cultivation, with all the hustle and bustle, there are plenty of people who can't stand to see others thrive."
Chen Ping'an thought for a moment and nodded. "It's like neighbors who can't stand seeing another family get rich and get jealous. It's all the same."
The old man sighed again and took a big gulp of wine.
Chen Ping'an asked, "What exactly is Osmanthus Island? Can you tell me, old senior?"
The old man smiled. "Why not? It's actually Gui Furen's true form."
Chen Ping'an suddenly understood.
The old man asked with a grin, "Have you ever thought about what everyone on Osmanthus Island is?"
Chen Ping'an tentatively said, "Mountain people? Qi cultivators?"
The old man shook his head. "Osmanthus Island is a ferry. What kind of people are the passengers on a ferry? Businessmen."
Chen Ping'an paused, then nodded. "That's true."
The old man asked again, "What do businessmen travel far and wide for?"
This time, Chen Ping'an answered quickly. "To make money."
The old man took a leisurely sip of wine. "And what do they want after making money?"
Chen Ping'an smiled. "To spend it."
The old man sighed emotionally. "Exactly. You work hard to make money so you can spend it and enjoy life. So you have to live long enough to spend it. Qi cultivators—there are so many schools of thought under heaven, countless."
Chen Ping'an scratched his head, a smile forming on his face. He started drinking, this time a bit more and quicker. Finally, he leaned back, lying comfortably on the roof ridge. "Old senior, let me tell you something from my heart. Can you keep it to yourself? And if I tell you, it might bring you some trouble—nothing good..."
The old man sat cross-legged, leaning forward, shaking his wine jar with both hands. The remaining half-jar of wine sloshed noisily. He smiled. "Just speak. If you don't say some drunken words after drinking, that's not right. Then why drink at all? Kid, don't mind that I'm much older than you. I'm actually a bit short-sighted and recklessly bold. Besides, living as long as I have, if I weren't holding on to see my master one more time, I would have given up long ago. And some things, whether you say them or not, don't make much difference. I was right beside you at the time and heard everything clearly. I'm just here to trick you into spilling your drunken words!"
Chen Ping'an pointed up at the sky. "Back in my hometown, I once met a young Daoist. We got along pretty well at the time—his name was Lu Chen. In that big battle before, he schemed against me twice, maybe three times. I'll only mention the two I'm sure of. The first time, I had a 'stroke of inspiration.' I couldn't write the characters for 'Rain Master,' so I wrote 'Lu Chen' out of spite. The second time was when I was facing the golden-robed old flood dragon alone. At that time..."
Chen Ping'an placed the Nurturing Sword Gourd on his belly, his hands behind his head as a pillow. "It felt strange, as if I could see and hear the thoughts, emotions, and inner voices of everyone. Like you said, old senior, 'a peck of rice breeds a gallon of enmity.' I realized that nine out of ten passengers on Osmanthus Island were indifferent and numb, or even gloating, as if they wished I had died on the spot. There was a lot of jealousy too... I couldn't understand why until you said just now that this was Osmanthus Island, all businessmen, and everyone wants to live. Thinking back, I realized: I've grown up by wanting to live, and that's how I've made it this far."
Chen Ping'an grinned. "I have a friend, a swordsman, an incredible one. When Lu Chen schemed against me, I tricked him in return. I deliberately asked him to pass on my last words. Lu Chen either had to ignore me and lose face, or swallow his pride and deliver the message, then get beaten up by my friend. Just thinking about that scene made me less afraid of dying at the time."
There were some things Chen Ping'an still didn't dare say out loud.
Because they involved Mr. Qi.
Mr. Qi told him that no matter what, he should never lose hope in this world.
But at that moment, Chen Ping'an felt only disappointment in this world.
Perhaps that was Lu Chen's true scheme, whatever it specifically involved—Chen Ping'an only had a vague intuition.
Lying on the roof now, Chen Ping'an finally just said, "It's really hard not to be disappointed in this world."
The old man drank his wine and said slowly, "You casually mention the name of the Daoist Patriarch, and you have a friend who can beat him... I won't tell you how shocked I am inside. I was at least a land immortal once, and I still have some pride. But since you've spoken your drunken words, I've also built up some heartfelt words over the years that I must say to you."
Chen Ping'an was about to sit up, but the old man turned his head and smiled. "Just lie down. Just some grumbling that no one has heard for centuries. No need for you to be so serious."
Chen Ping'an still sat up and explained, "It's not good to drink lying down."
The old man chuckled, hugged his wine jar, and gazed at the distant night scene over the sea. The bright moon was beautiful, an enchanting sight.
The old man said slowly, "Back in my day, I was also what people called a favored son of heaven. I had a terrible temper. Maybe if I had run into you back then, I would have been one of the kinds of people you were disappointed in. My temper now isn't what it used to be, or I wouldn't be sitting here drinking with you. Chen Ping'an, as for the guests on Osmanthus Island, let's not talk about good and evil. To have 'gotten this far' as you put it, each of them must have some merit. Besides that, just because you did something right and they didn't, doesn't mean they're wrong. And just because you did something wrong and they did it too, doesn't make them right either. That's a bit convoluted..."
Chen Ping'an nodded. "I understand!"
The old man gave a thumbs-up and laughed. "Of course, that fight earlier was your most right thing. No fault to be found. That's the one!"
Chen Ping'an laughed happily.
Being acknowledged by someone he himself acknowledged was truly worth a drink.
So Chen Ping'an took a big gulp of wine, a wide smile on his face. He said casually, "Old senior is also very right. I shouldn't measure everyone by my own standards. My standards might be right, or they might not be. They might be right but not entirely. They might be too narrow... Haha, that's convoluted too, right, old senior?"
The old man teased, "Very convoluted."
Chen Ping'an pointed into the distance. The boy, reeking of wine, shook his head. It seemed he was really drunk. His face was full of undisguised joy and pride. He grinned and said, "Old senior, I know so many remarkable people. Like that incredibly powerful swordsman later. I could have called him Senior Brother. I'm pretty impressive too, right?"
The old man nodded and laughed. "Yes, yes, all impressive."
Chen Ping'an, his eyes blurry with drink, turned his head and asked drowsily, "Old senior, your words don't sound very sincere..."
The old man laughed heartily. No wonder he got along with this kid. They were birds of a feather—both stubborn as mules.
The boy fell backward, drunk, murmuring to himself.
The old man helped him put his gourd aside and happened to overhear a few of Chen Ping'an's drunken ramblings. He nodded and stayed by the boy's side all night.
What the boy said in his drunken stupor was, "Mr. Qi, I think I understand now. Not losing hope in this world doesn't just mean you have to live well. There's another layer: when you give goodwill to this world and don't receive goodwill in return, or even receive malice, if you can still not be disappointed at that moment, that is true hope. Mr. Qi, I've figured out the logic now, but I can't do it yet. When I've finished this drink, I'll try my best tomorrow..."
The old ferryman was nearly five hundred years old. He had seen countless people, experienced countless things, heard countless words. Yet he still felt that this boy's words had a lot of flavor, perfect for washing down some wine. Two jars weren't enough.
---
Inside the Nurturing Sword Gourd, inside Flying Sword Fifteen.
There was a basic Confucian primer that the old drunkard had given Chen Ping'an. The crude words began to move on their own.
Finally, on the title page, new lines of text appeared.
Order. First chapter: Distinguishing First and Last. Second chapter: Examining Greater and Lesser. Third chapter: Determining Good and Evil. Fourth chapter: Unity of Knowledge and Action.
By a great river in the Southern Continent of Whispers, on a large cliff, two old men in Confucian robes stood side by side. One carried a bright moon on his shoulder, the other held a round sun in his hand.
The shabby old scholar, who was casually spinning the little round sun in his hand, said with a grin, "Chen Chun'an, what do you think of this final disciple I've taken in? Good, isn't he?"
The refined scholar with a tiny full moon on his shoulder nodded but didn't speak in agreement.
The shabby old scholar had to answer his own question. "Good. I think he's very good."
The old man beside him said indifferently, "Anyway, you have a thick skin. You can say whatever you like. But nowadays, you go around saying 'good, good, good' all day. Is that appropriate? Have you already given up? Do you think you were wrong and my master was right?"
The shabby old scholar shook his head and smiled. "Sigh, Chen Chun'an, why are you like this? Hasn't Chen Ping'an already answered you? Both of you are named Chen, but your abilities are naturally a bit higher for now. But your understanding... well, let's not say it. If I do, we'll lose our friendship."
The refined scholar sneered. "I, Chen Chun'an, have never been friends with you, Sage of Culture."
The old scholar nodded profoundly. "Right. Not to mention the difference in generations, the disparity in learning is enormous. As the ferryman said, one still needs some face."
The old man, who was the head of the Yingyin Chen Clan, said, "Speak plainly."
The old scholar reached out and handed over the round sun. His tone became heavier, no longer joking. "I hope it can be a while before you have to make a move. The later, the better."
Chen Chun'an put away the round sun, letting it hover on his shoulder. Thus, the sun and moon shone together. The old man said calmly, "It's the same either way."
The old scholar sighed. "Scholars. It's the same."
---
In the Green Obscura World, at the top floor of the Jade Capital Palace, the central hub of that world.
A young Daoist with a lotus crown on his head walked slowly along the perilous, jade-white railing, one hand behind his back and the other palm-up, staring into his palm.
In the corridor below the railing stood two Daoist immortals at the Flying Ascension realm, holding their breath in utmost reverence, not daring to disturb the Patriarch's wandering beyond the heavens.
The young Daoist withdrew his hand, sighed that he might as well be dead, and tilted his body outward, plummeting straight down into the surging sea of clouds outside the Jade Capital Palace.
The two Flying Ascension immortals remained motionless, exchanging a smile. They were used to it.