An hour later.
Ten miles outside Fengling City, on a sunlit mountainside.
Su Yueli did not bring Shen Qing'an back to the mountain village. He had only stayed in the village for three years; Fengling City was his home and his ancestral land.
Su Yueli found a sunlit slope covered in wild flowers. Looking down from here, she could just make out Fengling City and the tiny, bustling flow of its traffic.
She dug out a deep pit bit by bit, until her fingers were caked with dirt and stained with blood. Only then did she place Shen Qing'an, who still clutched the wooden box, inside.
Sighing, she shook her head. “Sleep peacefully. When you are reincarnated in your next life, do not be a mortal who can only wallow in the mud.”
A handful of yellow soil, then another.
The mound gradually rose, covering the hemp clothes, covering the withered bones.
Su Yueli stood before the new grave, motionless for a long time.
There was no tombstone, because she did not know whether to carve the name of the lie-spewing Great Manager Shen, or that of the “Madman Shen” who had squandered his entire fortune for her sake.
“So, immortality is just a routine series of farewells.”
Su Yueli murmured softly, a hint of desolation in her eyes.
In just twenty short years, everything had changed. The dear friend who had once shown her such kindness was already buried in the dirt before she could even repay him.
It was a strange feeling, one Su Yueli could not quite describe, but she simply hoped she would never have to dig such a pit again.
Boom—
Just then, the sound of rushing air suddenly echoed from above the clouds.
Su Yueli looked up, narrowing her eyes. She saw two streaks of light flying on swords, one green and one white.
Within the light, two figures wearing loose, immortal robes were faintly visible.
Su Yueli could sense the power of these cultivators. Even if a martial artist reached the strongest Tenth Realm, they might not necessarily defeat a Foundation Establishment cultivator.
And a Foundation Establishment cultivator was merely in the Second Realm. Cultivation had a grand total of fifteen realms!
But...
“So what if they are immortals? Since they view us mortal martial artists as straw dogs, one day, I, Su Yueli, will crush them with a single hand!”
...
Meanwhile, high in the sky, astral winds howled.
Two Foundation Establishment Second Realm disciples were speeding along on their flying swords.
“What bad luck.”
The young cultivator on the left frowned and dusted off his robe in disgust. “A mere mortal village... Why couldn't they just send a couple of Qi Refining outer disciples to clean it up? Why did they have to trouble us to make this trip personally?”
“Watch your words, Junior Brother, and focus on the task.”
The middle-aged cultivator on the right had a cold expression, his tone turning serious. “This is a secret order straight from the Grand Elder. It concerns the Young Sect Master's Dao foundation, so there is no room for the slightest mistake.”
Hearing the words “Young Sect Master,” the youth finally stopped his grumbling, a flash of jealousy crossing his eyes.
“The Young Sect Master... Hmph, he is only relying on that one-in-a-million Supreme Heavenly Bone. When he entered the sect twenty years ago, the Sect Master made an exception to take him as a personal disciple, and now, in his thirties, he has already stepped into the early stage of Foundation Establishment. Such talent is indeed unseen in a century.”
The youth paused, his tone shifting to one of mockery. “Unfortunately, no matter how high his talent is, he is still a mud-legged peasant brought out of the mortal world. His vision is far too narrow!”
He kept grumbling, deeply resentful.
As the grand Young Sect Master with a Supreme Heavenly Bone, instead of choosing from the many proud daughters of heaven in the sect, he actually kept yearning for a wild woman without Bone Talent in a mortal village.
Because of this, his cultivation had not progressed an inch over the years. His state of mind was affected, delaying his breakthrough to the mid stage of Foundation Establishment.
Thinking of this, he shook his head. “If not for this mental block, with the potential of a Heavenly Bone, the Young Sect Master would probably have been qualified to charge for the Third Realm, Golden Core, in a few years.”
The middle-aged cultivator gave him a cold look. “And that is exactly the purpose of our trip today.”
“There is a difference between immortals and mortals, and the Young Sect Master is meant to carry the future of the sect. How can he be dragged down by worldly attachments? Since he cannot bring himself to act, the sect elders will naturally sever these mortal ties for him.”
“Once his old acquaintances in that village are all dead, and that mortal woman who affects his state of mind is reduced to ashes, there will be nothing left in this world to hinder the Young Sect Master's sword.”
Looking down at the rolling mountains below, the middle-aged cultivator warned again, “Remember, once we arrive, act swiftly and leave no survivors, from the people to the livestock. Do it cleanly, and we will blame it on demonic cultivators; even if the Young Sect Master investigates after exiting his seclusion, he won't be able to trace it back to the sect.”
“Don't worry, Senior Brother.”
The young cultivator cupped his hands and sneered. “It's just slaughtering a bunch of defenseless mortals. My flying sword hasn't tasted blood in a long time.”
The two streaks of light veered in mid-air, heading straight for the mountain village.
An hour later, the mountain village.
Near noon, the dirt roads of the village were filled with men carrying hoes, just returning from the fields.
Er Shizi was carrying two buckets of freshly drawn well water on a shoulder pole, just arriving at the entrance of his yard.
The originally clear sky suddenly darkened as a powerful pressure descended from above.
The birds in the old locust tree shrieked and fluttered away, while the chained guard dogs in the village whimpered, cowering flat on the ground.
The shoulder pole in Er Shizi's hands slipped, and the two buckets of water crashed to the ground, splashing everywhere.
Everyone looked up, staring blankly at the sky. They saw two figures wearing green and white robes, hands clasped behind their backs, standing on flying swords.
The look in their eyes was as if they were gazing at penned livestock waiting for slaughter.
“An... an immortal!”
“An immortal has descended!”
Someone shouted, and the dazed villagers instantly erupted into a frenzy.
The bone-testing phenomenon from twenty years ago had left too deep an impression on the memories of these villagers.
Unable to sense the killing intent in the sky at all, they simply assumed an immortal sect had come to select disciples again.
“Quick! Kneel and kowtow!”
“Immortal Master! Please look at my child! My child is strong, he must have immortal roots!”
The villagers scrambled to kneel in the mud, kowtowing loudly, their eyes filled with a fanatic desire to become immortals.
Some even dragged their half-grown children down, pressing their faces into the dirt, terrified of showing even the slightest disrespect to the immortals.
In mid-air, the young cultivator looked at the crowd of begging mortals below, the mockery in his eyes deepening.
“A bunch of fools.”
He slowly raised his right hand. Within his sleeve, a flying sword swirling with eerie green poison fire hummed loudly.
Meanwhile, deep in the distant mountains.
Lu Chen, who had been dozing in front of his cave, suddenly opened his cloudy eyes.
Just now, a wave of spiritual energy surged from the direction of the village along with the mountain wind.
For a dying martial artist, such a faint fluctuation of spiritual energy should have been impossible to detect.
But having crawled his way out of piles of corpses in his youth, his sense for killing intent was incredibly sharp.
That was a killing intent meant to slaughter everything!
Dragging his near-lifeless, withered body, Lu Chen walked to the edge of the cliff and narrowed his eyes. Though he could not see the figures clearly, he could feel the pressure gathering.
His graying hair and beard whipped wildly in the mountain wind, and Lu Chen's normally hunched back straightened slightly at this moment.
“Cultivators...”
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