Chapter 14

This statement carried a hint of nostalgia.

An Wuxue was momentarily stunned.

Nostalgia?

Nostalgic for what?

Xie Zhefeng nostalgic about a past involving someone he himself had slain?

He would rather Xie Zhefeng completely forget him than inexplicably adopt his sword name as an alias and cling to those now useless memories.

Just like last night—why did Xie Zhefeng intervene to reprimand those cultivators?

And what about when the disciple of the Falling Moon Sect informed him of his expulsion?

He had indeed cared deeply for Falling Moon Peak once.

But that was long ago.

It would have been simpler if Xie Zhefeng had just removed him outright. Why stir up so much trouble?

“An Wuxue” was a dead man marked for execution.

If this person hadn’t insisted on investigating whether the Cloud Sword Sect was involved with him, perhaps he would have long since spread his wings and flown freely.

After a brief moment of calm, he said, “That truly is a pity.”

This time, Xie Zhefeng was slightly surprised. “A pity for what?”

“Xue Su did not know Xie Daoyou before,” he turned slightly, leaning against the corridor’s beam, facing the gentle breeze coming through the window, speaking each word deliberately, “If I truly were an old friend of yours, we might speak a few words here and now. But I have nothing to say.”

“A pity.”

“I have no old friends.”

—“No old friends.”

An Wuxue said this twice.

The first time was a detached statement; the second, a resolute severance.

Xie Zhefeng stood by the window, daylight separating them. Following the light, An Wuxue could not see his expression.

He waited for the length of a tea cup’s worth of time.

Only then did Xie Zhefeng slowly speak: “I was mistaken about the past. You really aren’t him.”

Oh?

His supposed closest junior brother in the previous life was now saying he wasn’t himself?

An Wuxue found this curious. “In what way am I not?”

Earlier, it was Xie Zhefeng who said he was alike; now, the same man said he was unlike.

Xie Zhefeng’s tone softened: “He was gentle and mild, never sharp or decisive in speech.”

An Wuxue wanted to laugh.

And laugh he did.

Cultivators in their world said he bore too much guilt; disciples of Falling Moon thought he was unworthy of the sect; Qi Xun advised him not to be so ruthless; Qin Wei scolded him for becoming increasingly heartless.

Once, Shangguan Liaoliao, clutching the corpse of Shangguan Ran, hysterically asked him, “An Wuxue, did you never have a heart!?”

Only his junior brother—the one he dared only meet after bathing and changing clothes whenever his sword tip was stained with blood—would, even after a thousand years of his death, naïvely describe him as “gentle and mild.”

He laughed several times before forcing himself to speak: “So it really is a pity, Daoyou Xie. I am not him, and…”

“Nor will I ever be him.”

The words struck harshly; Xie Zhefeng’s brow furrowed slightly.

“What’s so funny?” a voice approached.

Cloud Boat’s voice drew near.

An Wuxue nodded. “Just some amusing jokes.”

Xie Zhefeng thought he was just brushing off Cloud Boat, said nothing more, and turned to walk ahead. “Let’s go to the City Lord’s Mansion to find the person who visited the Cloud Sword Sect on the day of the clan’s destruction.”

---

In a place like Zhaoshui City, where cultivators and mortals coexist, the City Lord’s Mansion is typically staffed by high-level cultivators—akin to the sects of cultivators, also with their own lineage.

The cultivators guarding the gate naturally knew the reputation of Falling Moon Peak. As soon as Xie Zhefeng presented the letter of introduction, someone quickly led the four of them inside and said, “Zhaoshui City is currently in the midst of the Heavenly Water Festival. Recently, an envoy from Beiming City has come bearing congratulatory gifts for the city lord. The city lord is currently entertaining these northern guests and cannot meet you personally. He has sent me to escort you inside.”

Beiming City and Zhaoshui City had long-standing relations; that was nothing unusual.

But what exactly was the Heavenly Water Festival?

Now was not the time to pry.

He suppressed his curiosity and followed them into the main reception hall.

As they entered, from afar, they saw a man of imposing presence seated at the main seat—presumably the City Lord of Zhaoshui.

Before him stood a tall youth in a white robe patterned with dark bamboo. Though the youth’s back was to them, his stance alone betrayed an otherworldly aura.

The City Lord seemed to notice their arrival, rose, and patted the youth on the shoulder. “Beiming is thousands of miles away, and Daoist Jiang, since you’ve been here for some time, there’s no rush to leave in a day or two. The Heavenly Water Festival ends in three days; you can return to Beiming afterward.”

The youth’s voice was especially clear and gentle. “Then I shall follow your kind advice. Since the city lord has guests, I will return to my quarters to rest.”

After a brief exchange, when the cultivator surnamed Jiang turned to face them, An Wuxue, who had been distractedly looking around, suddenly froze.

This cultivator’s features were delicate and striking, with a softness between his brows and eyes. Yet a cluster of fiery marks burned at the corner of his right eye, adding a sharp edge to his countenance, even lending a hint of alluring charm.

As he left the hall, brushing past them, An Wuxue remained somewhat dazed.

But the man seemed not to recognize An Wuxue’s group, merely nodding slightly in acknowledgment before hurrying away.

Upon entering the hall, Cloud Boat first voiced a doubt An Wuxue shared: “That cultivator bore a mark of the Fiery Karma—are they from the Embryonic Spirit Clan? Wasn’t that clan wiped out during the Celestial Calamity?”

Cloud Yao reprimanded sharply, “Junior brother, some things should be carefully considered before spoken.”

The City Lord laughed heartily. “No harm, no harm. That cultivator is from Beiming City, named Jiang Qing. Daoist Jiang does not mind discussing it. I was curious and asked him earlier. He said that a thousand years ago, when he first gained sentience but had not yet formed a human shape, he was nearly tainted by impure energy. A cultivator of supreme power sealed him in the Nether Sea, cleansing the impurity. Only in recent centuries did he emerge fully formed, thus spared.”

Cloud Boat sighed, “That cultivator who cast the seal was truly virtuous—saving the last of the Embryonic Spirit Clan in the world.”

The City Lord nodded. “Unfortunately, Daoist Jiang has no knowledge of who sealed him; he cannot repay the debt without knowing.”

An Wuxue glanced in the direction Jiang Qing had departed.

It was indeed him!

The Embryonic Spirit Clan was formed from embryonic stones left after the Fiery Karma burned away; before awakening sentience, they looked like stones.

In An Wuxue’s memory, Jiang Qing had been a palm-sized white stone.

—Jiang Qing was the very one he had sealed in the Nether Sea.

At that time, Xie Zhefeng had only recently taken on the position of Immortal Lord.

A great demon of the Shark Tribe, at the peak of tribulation, had appeared in the depths of the Nether Sea.

At the end of the Celestial Calamity, no one in the four seas ascended to immortality; if this great shark demon succeeded, the consequences would be unimaginable.

The Nether Sea stirred.

An Wuxue happened to be in Beiming City.

Together with Shangguan Liaoliao and her younger brother Shangguan Ran, he was busy restoring the Four Seas Ten-Thousand Sword Formation to repair the Pillar of Heaven and Spirit of Earth.

Beiming City was a corner of this grand formation; the array had reached a critical moment where failure was not an option.

He sent a message back to Falling Moon for aid.

Xie Zhefeng personally arrived, ordered a blockade of the Nether Sea, and descended alone into the abyss to slay the great demon.

At first, An Wuxue felt no worry.

His junior brother was also at the peak of tribulation, half a step immortal.

The Path of Ruthlessness was a thorny road, forging a blade sharper than others.

At the same level, that charming shark demon would not be his junior brother’s match.

But seven days passed; the Nether Sea remained calm.

Xie Zhefeng still had not returned.

An Wuxue’s heart began to falter.

Shangguan Liaoliao was blind; her divine sense was hard to extend underwater, limiting her cultivation.

Shangguan Ran’s cultivation was insufficient.

Only he could go.

He temporarily entrusted the array’s critical affairs to Shangguan Liaoliao and Shangguan Ran, then plunged into the Nether Sea to find Xie Zhefeng.

In the deep sea, he saw corpses of shark demons that had succumbed to madness floating, their scattered shells stained with blood.

Where were the great demon and his junior brother?

He pressed deeper, finally coming upon a barrier isolating all seawater. The barrier emitted a foul mist; inside, Xie Zhefeng’s aura lingered—obviously, both the demon and Xie Zhefeng were within!

Without hesitation, An Wuxue charged into the barrier.

He thought the shark demon must have been extremely powerful, causing Xie Zhefeng to be unable to kill it, hence the seven-day struggle.

But upon entering, he found the demon lying barely alive on the ground.

Xie Zhefeng grasped the sword Chuhan, his figure swaying slightly.

An Wuxue hurried to his side.

“Junior brother?”

Xie Zhefeng seemed momentarily dazed.

He called again: “Junior brother?”

His junior brother turned his head to look at him.

The young Immortal Lord’s face, usually frosted with a cool color, was flushed with red; his eyes slightly bloodshot, breathing rapid, expression somewhat dazed.

But in the next instant, Xie Zhefeng regained his senses and, in a hoarse voice, asked in puzzlement, “…Senior brother?”

An Wuxue’s heart jolted.

He quickly gathered himself and finally understood what had happened.

He reached out to support Xie Zhefeng. With a sharp “clang,” the sword Chunhua’s light struck the neck of the fallen shark demon.

His words grew more intense with killing intent: “You poisoned him with charm venom!?”

Charm venom endlessly stirs the emotions of cultivators’ hearts. There are only two cures: the poisoner personally removes it, or… dual cultivation.

The shark demon laughed.

But after a single laugh, it coughed up a great mouthful of blood.

“So what if I did?”

“The cure.”

Soul searching can only be used on cultivators of lower realm. This shark demon was on par with Xie Zhefeng; soul searching was useless, only interrogation remained.

“I’ve already lost. Either way, my soul will perish. If I can take Immortal Xie down with me, why not? He slaughtered my entire clan. Chuhan hung over my soul for seven days, and I never spoke. Why do you think you can make me talk?”

An Wuxue sneered coldly. “My junior brother is my junior brother, and I am myself.”

The shark demon was stunned but nodded. “I’ve certainly heard of Chief An’s reputation.”

The sword light of Chunhua and Chuhan both hovered above the demon’s vital point, but its laughter grew louder—then suddenly—

The demon fell silent.

It had gone fish-dead, self-destructing its soul!!!

An Wuxue’s heart sank deeply.

With the poisoner dead, the charm venom could only be cured through dual cultivation.

Ordinary cultivators might be unharmed if their feelings were mutual.

But Xie Zhefeng cultivated the Path of Ruthlessness.

An Wuxue looked at his junior brother, whose expression still seemed somewhat detached, his gaze fixed blankly on him.

“…Senior brother,” Xie Zhefeng called.

He gritted his teeth. “I’ll search around here a bit more and examine the demon’s corpse. Maybe I can find a cure. Junior brother, wait for me—”