I Might Be a Big Shot — Chapter 55

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Li Xinglun did not dodge; instead, he leapt straight into the yao fire. The dense spiritual energy of the Mystic Fog Yao Valley and that strand of divine power wrapped around him formed a shield that allowed him to temporarily resist the corrosive force of the yao fire. But it wouldn’t last long — once the spiritual energy was consumed, he would have to rely on his own strength to withstand the flames, which rivaled those of a Great Ascension-stage yao.

His red robes blazed all the more brilliantly in the fire. Li Xinglun’s features began to contort under the light.

It was the face-changing Gu. The yao fire made the face-changing Gu restless, writhing under his skin but too afraid to act without the mother Gu’s command. To outsiders, it looked like his face was twisted in pain under the torment of the flames. Elder Guiche threw back his head and laughed loudly, joined by a few other faint chuckles from the shadows.

Only the Eight-tailed Fox looked at Changkong Zhuoyu. To be honest, Li Xinglun was nothing in the eyes of these great yao — his life and death were as insignificant as an ant’s. What concerned the Eight-tailed Fox was Changkong Zhuoyu. He knew how deeply Changkong Zhuoyu cared for his disciple, and the man’s strength was unfathomable. He feared that if anything happened to this disciple, Changkong Zhuoyu would unleash a massacre. The Eight-tailed Fox was confident he could suppress Changkong Zhuoyu, but there were too many weak yao in the Mystic Fog Yao Valley, and he worried they would be caught in the crossfire.

But Changkong Zhuoyu stood there lightly shaking his fan, completely calm, showing no sign of worry for Li Xinglun. Clearly, he had full confidence in his disciple.

Is this young human really that strong? The Eight-tailed Fox glanced at the blood-colored figure within the flames. Under the flickering firelight, his face had become grotesque, losing all trace of its former handsomeness, and he appeared to be in great pain.

The Eight-tailed Fox’s tails swayed anxiously as he kept his eyes fixed on the fire, ready to intervene the moment Li Xinglun’s soul showed signs of being annihilated, to prevent Changkong Zhuoyu from truly going on a rampage in the Mystic Fog Yao Valley. The other elders might not care about the lives of the little yao, but the Eight-tailed Fox considered them the future of the valley. He himself could die, but he could not allow these young ones to be lost.

Changkong Zhuoyu maintained an outward calm before the crowd, his eyes full of imperious arrogance, yet inside he was as anxious as an ant on a hot pan. If not for the many people around, he would have been pacing circles around the flames already.

Even though he worried, Changkong Zhuoyu chose to trust Li Xinglun, maintaining his air of a lofty master as he waited.

The blood-colored figure within the flames began to waver. The spiritual energy surrounding Li Xinglun had already dissipated, and only that faint yet indomitable strand of divine power still protected him. At this point, his waist was deeply bowed, like a stubborn red stone enduring the searing trial of the flames.

Changkong Zhuoyu’s fingers tightened around the fan handle, his lips pressed together, a tumult of feelings in his heart. He should have rushed forward to rescue his disciple the moment he crouched down, but he didn’t move. Memories of his time with Li Xinglun flashed unbidden through his mind, yet still he did not move.

That proud disciple of his, whose eyes still burned with fire even in the Soul-Breaking Gorge, the one he had liked at first sight and wanted to keep at his side, the one who would follow even with a helpless expression  —  if he intervened now, he could indeed save Li Xinglun, but it would destroy this chance for rebirth. And if he didn’t… what if Li Xinglun couldn’t endure it?

Countless thoughts flickered through Changkong Zhuoyu’s mind in an instant, yet still he didn’t move. He merely watched Li Xinglun quietly, even letting a faintly proud smile curve his lips, forcing Elder Guiche, who was about to deliver some scathing remark, to swallow it back down.

Neither humans nor yao made a sound. They all watched as the flames grew fiercer, while the blood-colored figure shrank smaller and smaller.

The Eight-tailed Fox’s tails swished nervously. He began to pace back and forth at the edge of the fire, but as soon as he got close, the white jade fan that Changkong Zhuoyu had been holding suddenly stabbed into the rock at his feet.

“No one is to interfere.”

Changkong Zhuoyu’s smile faded. His expression grew strained, and a faint menace emanated from him.

Killing intent radiated from his body, pressing heavily on the hearts of the ten yao elders. In a voice as cold and ethereal as a mountain spring striking stone, he said, “He chose this path. I will watch him walk it.”

All the yao elders understood the unspoken second half of his sentence: If anything happens to him, you will all accompany him in death.

At this moment, no one could doubt that Changkong Zhuoyu had indeed inherited the Sacred Yao Spirit. The power he exuded was terrifying, like an ancient beast of the primordial wilds — he needed to do nothing, his mere presence alone suffocated the life around him.

The four remaining heads of Elder Guiche shivered uncontrollably. He even wanted to retract the yao fire, but Changkong Zhuoyu’s aura pressed so heavily on him that he couldn’t move, and could only watch helplessly as the blood-red figure in the flames grew fainter and fainter.

Finally, just when the blood-red hue turned gray-black and the ten elders’ hearts were in their throats, a sharp sword energy suddenly shot skyward, splitting the flames clean in two.

That streak of blood-red reappeared before everyone. A strikingly handsome man, wielding a beast bone that danced like a sword in the fire — each stroke bristling with force. The blood shadow flickered and swayed within the flames, each slash of the bone driving the fire back a little further.

“This is…” Changkong Zhuoyu stared at the blood shadow’s movements. He had used this sword technique once himself, in the Soul-Breaking Gorge, where neither he nor Li Xinglun could use spiritual energy. He had used the divine power of the gorge itself to shatter the barrier and take Li Xinglun out of that place no one had ever escaped.

The cultivation world’s martial skills were unlike mundane martial arts. It wasn’t about a set of sword forms — whatever forms he used then would have led to the same outcome. What mattered wasn’t the shape, but the circulation of power the sword energy evoked.

This was not a technique an ordinary person could master. Changkong Zhuoyu had never formally taught it to Li Xinglun, because even he didn’t know exactly how he’d executed it back then. He was indeed powerful, but aside from his insights into formations, he couldn’t even recall the incantations of other techniques — he could use them himself but not teach others. In truth, he had never taught Li Xinglun anything; the disciple had carved out his own unique path.

The stone weighing on Changkong Zhuoyu’s heart finally dropped. Relaxing, he looked at Li Xinglun with proud eyes. This was the disciple he had chosen at first sight!

The beast bone in Li Xinglun’s hand had been burned crimson by the yao fire, yet somehow, instead of being destroyed, it grew harder and harder, glowing red like molten iron. By the time it turned bright red, Elder Guiche had already ‘changed his surname’ to Li. {As in, became Li Xinglun's grandson  —  an expression signifying a surrender to strength and authority, as the grandfather, being the oldest male of the family, is the absolute ruler of the family according to Confucian philosophy.}

Li Xinglun flipped through the air, the last wisp of yao fire curling around the beast bone. The blood shadow swept past, and the fire, now mingled with divine power and subdued by him, struck Elder Guiche unprepared. The elder, who had just been enjoying the show, hurriedly spread his wings to block, but the yao fire carried an incredibly sharp sword energy. The beast bone — tempered by the flames until it resembled a sword — plunged deep into Elder Guiche’s wing as a miserable scream echoed through the air.

For an esteemed yao elder of the Mystic Fog Yao Valley, one of the ten most exalted elders, who had known nothing but comfort except for losing five heads to the Sacred Yao Spirit years ago, such pain was unbearable. Worse still, the beast bone seemed to have belonged to some blood-soul-devouring yao in life, and as it stabbed into his wing, it began to drain his flesh and blood. Elder Guiche gritted his teeth and retreated violently to free himself from the bone.

“You human brat!” Elder Guiche clutched his charred, bloody wing, the smell of roasted flesh wafting from it, and ground out at Li Xinglun.

After all, Li Xinglun was only at the Nascent Soul stage, and his success owed to his ambush — if Elder Guiche used his true strength, Li Xinglun would never be able to match him. Just as the elder was about to lash out in fury, Changkong Zhuoyu spread his hand, and the fan stuck in the ground flew back to him. He opened it and leveled it at Elder Guiche. “Defeat is defeat.”

Elder Guiche, aching and seething, stood trembling under Changkong Zhuoyu’s oppressive presence, not daring to advance. Behind him, the human youth who had absorbed his flesh and blood stood there with a faint look of regret, as though lamenting that he hadn’t been able to drain more.

Despite his rage and humiliation, Elder Guiche still held back — because Changkong Zhuoyu’s aura was simply too terrifying, his presence overwhelming. At the slightest motion, the ten elders’ breaths all tightened; no one dared resist.

With such strength, no one could doubt that he had inherited Nüwa’s legacy. For someone always so ruthless to both humans and yao, the Sacred Yao Spirit had truly chosen Changkong Zhuoyu. He was now the ruler of the Mystic Fog Yao Valley.

Outmatched, Elder Guiche finally lowered his one intact wing, all four heads bowing in submission.

Changkong Zhuoyu’s lips curved into a faint smile as his gaze swept over the other dark figures — heads and hooves lowered in turn, bowing to him. Only the Eight-tailed Fox still stood atop the rocky outcrop, his beautiful eyes fixed on Changkong Zhuoyu, as though waiting for something.

Seeing that the elders would no longer threaten Li Xinglun, Changkong Zhuoyu finally turned back, satisfied, to look at the disciple who filled him with pride.

The moment he turned, however, he froze in place, pointing at Li Xinglun’s face, stammering, “Disciple… you…”

“What is it?” Li Xinglun touched his face. Seeing his master open and close his mouth without speaking, he casually drew some spring water into a mirror and looked.

The face in the mirror was no longer the slightly gloomy yet handsome face shaped by the face-changing Gu, nor his original features, but rather a stranger’s — sharper, colder, with a more piercing gaze.

And this face was even more handsome than before — though still slightly inferior to Changkong Zhuoyu’s, it was already among the most striking in the cultivation world.

Li Xinglun immediately explained, “Master, while in the flames, the face-changing Gu kept shifting under the influence of the yao fire. Perhaps because of that, my appearance changed.”

Changkong Zhuoyu stared fixedly at him, then, snapping out of it, gave a light cough and said, “So be it. Anyway, once cultivators reach the Nascent Soul stage, most adjust their appearance somewhat. Even if acquaintances see you in the cultivation world, no one will question it.”

In truth, even though cultivators could adjust their looks, they could only change within the constraints of their original bone structure. One couldn’t entirely change one’s face, or else there would be no such thing as ‘the most beautiful woman in the cultivation world’  —  everyone would look identical. Li Xinglun’s transformation was far beyond what advancing to the Nascent Soul stage could produce  —  it was simply too perfect.

As expected, master likes good-looking ones… Li Xinglun darkly touched his own face, very much wanting to crush the face-changing Gu under his skin, but ultimately held back. Perhaps this complete change was better; it would make it easier to secretly investigate those who destroyed his family…

Forget it, who was he kidding? With Changkong Zhuoyu’s high profile, ‘secretly’ was out of the question. Li Xinglun helplessly touched his face again. No more excuses  —  if master liked it, he’d keep this face.

As for what he really looked like… Li Xinglun decided that once the family matter was settled, he would extract the face-changing Gu and face Changkong Zhuoyu with his true appearance, even if his master preferred the current one.

“Since you have no objections, may we leave now?” Changkong Zhuoyu, having looked his fill, said contentedly to the elders.

“W-wait…” Elder Guiche struggled to lift his hand. “Venerable Lord is the Sacred Yao Spirit of our Mystic Fog Yao Valley. How can you abandon us and leave? Once you go, the valley will — ”

“Nothing will change,” Changkong Zhuoyu said coolly. “The Mystic Fog Yao Valley will continue as it always has, a sanctuary for the yao, regardless of whether I am here.”

“But…”

Elder Guiche tried to speak again, but Changkong Zhuoyu’s brow furrowed slightly, cutting him off. “Or are you trying to order me?”

The pressure spiked, and Elder Guiche fell silent, bowing deeply.

At that moment, the Eight-tailed Fox leapt down before Changkong Zhuoyu. Though he said nothing, his eyes clearly showed that he, too, didn’t want Changkong Zhuoyu to leave.

The Sacred Yao Spirit was the spiritual pillar of the Mystic Fog Yao Valley  —  no yao would want it to depart.

Changkong Zhuoyu understood the unspoken words in his eyes. He said to the Eight-tailed Fox, “I need to speak with you alone. After that, you can decide whether you wish me to stay.”

The Eight-tailed Fox blinked in surprise, then nodded. Before the other nine elders could protest, he transformed into a white fox and led the master and disciple back to the Green Hills.

Once he activated the Green Hills’ protective formation, the Eight-tailed Fox said, “Alright, now our conversation won’t be overheard. Are you hiding something from us?”

“Oh? Why would you think that?” Changkong Zhuoyu raised an eyebrow slightly, giving the Sacred Yao Spirit one last test of the Eight-tailed Fox.

The Sacred Yao Spirit had chosen the Eight-tailed Fox to wield the Map of Mountains and Rivers, granting him part of its legacy. This concerned the future of the Mystic Fog Yao Valley and the impending catastrophe in the human world. Changkong Zhuoyu had to treat it with utmost caution. Would the Eight-tailed Fox, after learning how to use the Map of Mountains and Rivers, abuse it? Would he ignore the catastrophe and only care for himself? All of this had to be considered.

“If you really obtained the Sacred Yao Spirit, with your strength it would have been easy to kill the ten elders and leave the Mystic Fog Yao Valley. But you didn’t.” The Eight-tailed Fox said, “Either you are a kind-hearted human who doesn’t want to harm the yao, or you haven’t obtained the inheritance and your strength is still insufficient to defeat the ten elders. But from the looks of it, you can control the white mist at the bottom of the valley with ease, so it’s hard to believe you haven’t met the Sacred Yao Spirit. To meet the true Sacred Yao Spirit and walk away unscathed  —  that can only be the true heir of Nüwa. But…”

The Eight-tailed Fox looked up at the sky of the Mystic Fog Yao Valley and said, “The valley’s barrier has shown no disturbance. If what you say is true  —  that after absorbing the Sacred Yao Spirit you stabilized the barrier  —  then something doesn’t add up. The barrier wasn’t left behind by Nüwa alone; it also carries the power of the Jade Pool. Nüwa’s legacy may not even include a method to maintain the valley’s barrier. Even if it does, the barrier should have changed when you absorbed the Sacred Yao Spirit. Yet over this past year, nothing happened. Your explanation isn’t convincing. But… to meet the Sacred Yao Spirit and not absorb her  —  I can’t imagine it. And you have no reason to do that.”

“Is that so? If it were you, would you absorb the Sacred Yao Spirit?”

“If I wanted to absorb the Sacred Yao Spirit, I would already be missing part of my body like the other nine elders.” The Eight-tailed Fox answered frankly. “Rather than becoming a Nine-tailed Heavenly Fox, I’d rather the Mystic Fog Yao Valley and the Green Hills continue in peace. It’s not that I lack ambition  —  my wishes simply differ from the other elders.”

If the Eight-tailed Fox cared about his status, he wouldn’t let little foxes crawl all over him, soaking his fur with tears, looking nothing like a dignified elder.

Changkong Zhuoyu’s eyes lit up, just as he was about to convey the Sacred Yao Spirit’s instructions, Li Xinglun cut in ahead of him: “Then let’s strike a deal.”

Changkong Zhuoyu didn’t feel offended by his disciple’s interruption like other masters of the cultivation world might. He knew Li Xinglun wouldn’t interject without a reason.

Seeing that Changkong Zhuoyu did not stop him, and remembering how Li Xinglun had earlier injured Elder Guiche with just one strike, the Eight-tailed Fox regarded him with newfound respect, tacitly acknowledging him.

This was the first time someone of equal standing to Changkong Zhuoyu acknowledged Li Xinglun, and it was due to his growing strength. Looking at the Eight-tailed Fox, Li Xinglun said calmly, “You guessed right  —  we didn’t absorb the Sacred Yao Spirit. What we said earlier was just to dissuade others from coveting the Mystic Fog Yao Valley.”

Although he had already suspected it, the Eight-tailed Fox was still incredulous: “You… why?”

“Because, like you, we care about something more than becoming a god  —  the human calamity.” Li Xinglun said. “Indeed, once my master becomes a god, we could leave the cultivation world and ascend to the immortal realm, even the god realm of the ancient gods. What becomes of the mortal world then would no longer concern us. But my master isn’t someone who only cares for himself  —  he was born to save the human world. How could he forsake it just for his own power?”

Li Xinglun never shied away from praising his master, piling on ornate words without the slightest embarrassment, until even the Eight-tailed Fox felt awkward. But the human still continued lavishing praise.

Changkong Zhuoyu wasn’t embarrassed either. After all, it was all true. If Li Xinglun didn’t say it, he would have!

As expected of his disciple  —  he understood him so well. Truly an excellent student!

Without looking back, Li Xinglun knew his master was gazing at him with a satisfied and delighted expression. His stern face softened considerably.

“Enough, I understand how great you both are.” The Eight-tailed Fox finally couldn’t take it anymore and stopped Li Xinglun. “I also understand why you chose not to absorb the Sacred Yao Spirit  —  to stay in the cultivation world and avert the catastrophe. I suppose I should thank you, since Changkong Zhuoyu also protected the valley. So, what is this deal you want to make?”

“The Sacred Yao Spirit chose you to receive the method of using the Map of Mountains and Rivers.”

“The Map of Mountains and Rivers? An ancient divine artifact? The Sacred Yao Spirit wants to give it to me?” The Eight-tailed Fox looked incredulous. Who would believe a divine artifact just fell from the heavens?

“Because your wish aligns with hers  —  to keep the Mystic Fog Yao Valley a sanctuary for the yao. The Sacred Yao Spirit chose you and trusts you unconditionally. But we also have a condition.” Li Xinglun continued, “We discovered that the way to stop the human catastrophe is with the nine divine artifacts left behind by the ancient gods, of which the Map of Mountains and Rivers is one. Since the Sacred Yao Spirit entrusted it to you, you must help us wield it to stop the catastrophe.”

“Is that so?” the Eight-tailed Fox said. “Then at least tell me where this Map is. I’ve lived here so many years, yet I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Of course you haven’t  —  because you’ve been living inside it all along.”

“You mean… the Mystic Fog Yao Valley is formed from the Map of Mountains and Rivers?” The Eight-tailed Fox was shocked.

“It would be more accurate to say it is formed from a part of it. According to ancient records, the Map contains a world within, nurturing life, capable of creating all things  —  a complete, independent world. Naturally, it is far larger than just this valley. Long ago, Nüwa and the Queen Mother of the West forcibly anchored a corner of the Map to the human world to create a sanctuary for the yao. The true Map still slumbers.”

This revelation took the Eight-tailed Fox a long time to absorb. The master and disciple waited patiently.

“So if I use the Map to help you resist the catastrophe, won’t the yao living inside it also be affected?” The Eight-tailed Fox quickly caught the key point. “If I was chosen by the Sacred Yao Spirit, why shouldn’t I just continue maintaining the Map, instead of risking the valley to save the humans?”

Li Xinglun had anticipated this reaction. After all, the Eight-tailed Fox was yao, not human. Anyone in his place would wonder why he should risk his own kind for another. Changkong Zhuoyu realized why Li Xinglun had stopped him earlier from revealing everything  —  because he feared the fox would refuse to help after receiving the Map, leaving the nine divine artifacts incomplete and unable to stop the catastrophe.

Li Xinglun replied unhurriedly, “There are two reasons. First, the Mystic Fog Yao Valley is not an independent world outside the Three Realms and Six Paths  —  it lies within the human world, merely hidden by the Map. If the catastrophe comes, the valley cannot remain untouched. Even if it stays peaceful for a while, once the demonic creatures overrun the world, they’ll devour the valley too. How long do you think the Map can hold then? Second, we won’t let you refuse.

“If you truly stand by and do nothing, my master will absorb the Sacred Yao Spirit and forcibly reclaim the Map.”

“You mean…” The Eight-tailed Fox frowned slightly.

“We didn’t absorb the Sacred Yao Spirit because we wanted stability for the valley, not because we couldn’t. You only hold the Map because she approved you. If we absorb her, you’ll lose even the right to wield it. So let’s make a deal: we vow never to absorb the Sacred Yao Spirit and claim Nüwa’s legacy, but you must swear on your soul that when the catastrophe comes, you won’t stand idly by. Elder, understand this: it is not we who beg you  —  it is you who need us. If you refuse, my master will immediately seize the Map.” Li Xinglun spoke coldly.

Compared to trusting the fox’s promises, this method was far more effective. He wouldn’t give the fox any chance to back out  —  there was only one path before him.

To be threatened by a junior filled the Eight-tailed Fox with anger. But behind Li Xinglun, Changkong Zhuoyu stood there, his face merciless, as though he would take the Map and reduce the valley to ashes at any moment.

All the initiative was in their hands. But Li Xinglun knew that given his master’s nature, he would never truly harm the valley. The fox, however, could wait for the demons to slaughter most of the humans before stepping in  —  reducing their numbers yet still stopping the catastrophe. The fox cared little for humans.

They had to make him swear before giving him the Map.

Li Xinglun already disliked the yao. Seeing his master fawning over those fluffy creatures, he almost wished the valley would just burn. Naturally his expression was cold. As for Changkong Zhuoyu, though soft-hearted, he was a masterful actor, easily wearing a mask of ruthlessness.

In front of him, blood-robed Li Xinglun radiated a murderous air, as if waiting for him to refuse so Changkong Zhuoyu could absorb the Sacred Yao Spirit. The fox could see that Li Xinglun truly detested the yao. And Changkong Zhuoyu, in his white robes, looked like a divine being  —  yet his face was as cold and unfeeling as any immortal, as though his kindness to the fox cubs earlier was just a whim, like a human’s occasional pity for ants, but when his own interests were at stake, he could crush the anthill without a second thought.

Such lofty immortals would never care about the thoughts of the masses. What they cared about was the greater order of the human world, never one individual or race.

They were right  —  he had no choice. There was only this one path.

The Eight-tailed Fox opened his mouth, and a green yao core emerged. His eyes, as clear as glass, looked at them and he said, “I agree. I will swear on my soul. But you must also swear.”

Those cunning eyes now brimmed with sincerity, protectiveness, and sacrifice. The sight almost broke Changkong Zhuoyu’s composure. But Li Xinglun grasped his master’s hand and said, “Don’t swear your life. Swear that if you break your oath, your soul will turn chaotic, and you will use the Map yourself to destroy the valley. In your eyes, the valley’s safety outweighs your life, doesn’t it? You can always choose a successor and sacrifice yourself to preserve the valley.”

It was a cruel vow. But the fox, already trapped in Li Xinglun’s words, had no strength to resist. Gritting his teeth, he swore as Li Xinglun demanded, his clear, beautiful eyes full of hatred as he glared at him. Though he had never intended to break his word, Li Xinglun’s callousness made him hate him.

Once the fox swore, both Li Xinglun and Changkong Zhuoyu also swore on their souls never to absorb the Sacred Yao Spirit. The soul contract sealed, the Eight-tailed Fox returned to human form, though his face was pale.

Li Xinglun ignored his mood, grasped Changkong Zhuoyu’s hand tightly, and said, “Slip into the white mist now while no one is watching  —  you won’t be noticed by the Sacred Yao Spirit.”

“Your eyes remind me of someone,” the Eight-tailed Fox suddenly said. “Fifteen hundred years ago, when I only had six tails, someone broke the barrier of the Mystic Fog Yao Valley by himself, came here, did nothing but look around, gravely wounded the ten elders at the time, and left.”

“Oh? Who?” Changkong Zhuoyu turned and asked.

Someone who could break through the barrier left by the Queen Mother of the West must have terrifying strength. Perhaps… connected to him.

This time Changkong Zhuoyu didn’t dare claim the identity outright but forced himself to hold back. Seeing his pained expression, Li Xinglun felt distressed for him  —  his master was truly fixated on his past.

“I don’t know,” said the Eight-tailed Fox. “I wasn’t the Grand Elder then. I merely saw him once with the Eight-tailed Elder of the time. I only remember that he stood atop the highest peak of the valley, clad in blood-red robes, sword in hand, overlooking all within, his eyes devoid of emotion.”

That scene was so shocking he could never forget it. Even now, facing Li Xinglun  —  though much weaker and different in appearance  —  he felt the same aura.

Hearing the description, Li Xinglun’s face stiffened slightly. Blood-red robes, sword in hand, breaking the divine formation fifteen hundred years ago  —  there was likely only one person who fit.

Former sect master of Heaven-Shaking Peak  —  Xue Qianjie.

Li Xinglun thought this man’s shadow was inescapable. Even knowing he was not Changkong Zhuoyu, even here in the valley, he was still reminded of him  —  as though his footprints were everywhere.

Would they even hear tales of him at the Jade Pool? Feeling his master grow gloomy at the mention of Xue Qianjie, Li Xinglun wished he could wield the Time-Space Wheel and go back two thousand years to wipe him from existence.

“Let’s go.” Li Xinglun, unwilling for his master to dwell further on Xue Qianjie, changed the subject. “To Kunlun.”

The righteous sect’s foremost school, home of the ancient Jade Pool, and the place in the cultivation world with the most records of the ancient gods and the calamity  —  the first to bear the brunt when disaster strikes.

And… Changkong Zhuoyu firmly believed he was Kunlun’s sect master.

So, under the Eight-tailed Fox’s complicated gaze, Changkong Zhuoyu casually opened the passage from the Mystic Fog Yao Valley to the human world, and master and disciple left the sanctuary of the yao.

~ Chapter End ~

{I really pity Xue Qianjie. He visited all the places where he and Changkong Zhuoyu travelled through in an effort to create a connection, feel a wisp of the other's presence  —  either eternally searching for him, or simply endlessly waiting for him to wake up.} 

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