During the long hundred years of wandering in the Netherworld Underworld, the Master whom Ling Rong had dreamed of day and night was actually standing right in front of him at this very moment.
Ling Rong froze on the spot, lowering his eyes, not daring to meet the gaze of the person before him. He knew very well in his heart that Master’s hatred for him was likely like the abyss of the Netherworld, difficult to fill. However, fortunately, he had come prepared and had applied a disguise technique in advance. Right now, Master should not be able to recognize him yet.
“Did I hurt you?” Wen Pinglan’s voice was like frost and snow falling from the clouds, carrying a hint of elusive warmth.
He lowered his eyes to look at the youth in front of him, whose black robe was stained with a few peach blossom petals. The hair on his forehead hung messily beneath his eyes, revealing half of a face that was pale to the point of being almost transparent.
Ling Rong lowered his head to stare at the other man’s black boots embroidered with cloud patterns, a metallic, rusty taste rising in his throat.
“I am fine,” the hoarse answer mingled with the wind, dissipating into the cracks of the stone steps.
Wen Pinglan did not avert his gaze, but instead scrutinized Ling Rong carefully, asking, “I have never seen you before, are you a new face? Are you here to participate in the disciple recruitment convention?”
Ling Rong’s heart tightened, and he quickly replied, “What the Sect Master says is exactly right, this junior has indeed come to participate in the disciple recruitment convention, longing to seek the path and cultivate immortality within the Xuanyue Sect.”
Hearing the words “Sect Master,” Wen Pinglan’s eyes suddenly grew profound and dark. He stared intently at Ling Rong, his tone carrying a bit more alertness, “How did you know I am the Sect Master?”
Only then did Ling Rong realize that he had spoken incorrectly in his panic, making him deeply alarmed.
Hearing this from the side, Jiang Ruansheng did not have time to think too much and hurriedly stepped forward, saying, “Greetings, Sect Master, this Goudan beside me, ah no, this brother, he walks a bit too fast and accidentally ran into you, I hope you will not blame him.”
After saying that, he bowed deeply.
“No need for such courtesy,” Wen Pinglan waved his hand, but his gaze remained fixed tightly on Ling Rong without relaxing in the slightest.
He felt in his heart that this person carried a suspicious aura. This person was not someone from the Xuanyue Sect, and he himself was dressed so plainly today without anything special about him, yet the other party was actually able to tell at a single glance that he was the Sect Master, which was truly too bizarre.
“Junior.” Ling Rong just wanted to say something.
In the next second.
Wen Pinglan’s plain white wide sleeve swept through the mountain wind, and before Ling Rong could even see how he moved, his wrist bone was already gripped by a freezing force.
A familiar sword intent traveled along his meridians, feeling as if countless silver needles were piercing into his flesh. Ling Rong’s pupils shrank suddenly, for that was the “Spirit Searching Art,” a technique his Master had uniquely taught him!
Back then in the immortal sect, his Master’s hand had also rested on his wrist like this, teaching him hand-in-hand to perceive the spiritual energy of heaven and earth. Now, it had become a blade used for testing.
Under the impact of the spiritual energy, the disguise technique emitted a faint burning sound, and Ling Rong could feel the magic beneath his skin peeling away. Cold sweat slid down his spine into his collar, and he forced himself to keep his body from trembling. Catching a glimpse of the dark light churning in the depths of Wen Pinglan’s eyes out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly staggered and fell forward.
“Sect Master, please forgive me!” Ling Rong’s knees knocked heavily against the bluestone slab, the sharp pain actually making him a bit more clear-headed.
His fallen hair covered his reddened eyes, and the cold sweat oozing from his brow mixed with dust as it dripped down, “Junior was originally a loose cultivator in the mortal realm, since childhood I have heard that the Xuanyue Sect Master, Immortal Venerable Wangshu, cut down a thousand demons with his sword and possessed an outstanding character, so I admired you immensely.”
His voice carried an intentional tremor, “Seeing the sword intent flowing around you today, Senior, and your otherworldly temperament, I knew you must be the rumored Immortal Venerable Wangshu! Just now, this junior accidentally offended you, I hope you will forgive me!”
Seeing this scene, Jiang Ruansheng’s face turned pale with fright, and he knelt down with a thud right after him, “Sect Master, please do not punish him! He, he just admires you too much!”
He peeked upward, only to see Wen Pinglan’s brow tightly furrowed, the sword intent in his sleeve still not completely retracted.
Ling Rong’s heart was practically jumping out of his chest, and the piercing pain of the spiritual energy burning grew stronger and stronger. He bit his lower lip fiercely, his tongue tasting a metallic flavor, thinking that he just needed to hold on for a moment longer!
The “Spirit Searching Art” was a secret technique of the Xuanyue Sect, requiring one to transform spiritual energy into fine threads to penetrate the opponent’s meridians, searching to see if they hid their cultivation, used forbidden techniques, or disguised themselves. Ling Rong had practiced this technique diligently back then, and he could even distinguish the spiritual energy fluctuations of different sword tassels on his Master’s personal sword.
Facing his Master’s probe at this moment, he could only focus his entire mind on the runes, using his own spiritual energy to contend with that strand of sword intent, trying to prevent his Master from discovering the disguise technique inside his body.
After a brief moment, Wen Pinglan released his hand, and Ling Rong staggered, falling to sit on the ground. The spiritual energy concealed itself back into his skin the moment the magic retreated, yet a faint red mark was left branded on his wrist.
Unable to discover anything from his investigation, Wen Pinglan could only let the matter drop.
“Since you came to participate in the assessment, then go to the trial grounds,” Wen Pinglan turned around, his wide sleeves bringing about a gust of strong wind, “Do not run into others again.”
His voice was still cold and clear, yet it felt as if it were separated by thousands of mountains and rivers.
Watching that distant, departing figure, Ling Rong’s fingernails dug deeply into his palm. He knew that if there had been even the slightest mistake just now, Master would have been able to follow the spiritual energy fluctuations to discover the disguise technique on his body, discover the demonic energy inside him, as well as the obsession in his heart that had not dissipated for a hundred years.
Waiting until that figure disappeared around the corner, Jiang Ruansheng let out a sigh of relief, patting his chest directly, “Brother Goudan, you scared me to death just now!”
Ling Rong remained silent and did not respond.
The youth suddenly leaned close to him, his warm breath brushing past Ling Rong’s cold earlobe, “Wait, why are your eyes so red! Did you cry?”
“I was just scared to tears just now,” Ling Rong turned his face away abruptly, his Adam’s apple rolling violently as he swallowed down the bitterness. He raised his hand to wipe his face fiercely, his movements so rough that he almost tore the skin of his disguise, “Such a worthless appearance, I have made you laugh at me.”
Jiang Ruansheng scratched the back of his head, feeling a bit awkward, and comforted him, “I understand, I understand! If it were me being stared at by the Sect Master, I reckon I would have peed my pants on the spot!”
He pulled out half a piece of peach blossom cake from his cloak, broke off a piece, and handed it over, “Here, eat something sweet to calm your nerves!”
“Thank you,” Ling Rong’s fingers trembled as he took the broken piece of cake, but the sweet, greasy aroma of the pastry made his stomach churn with bouts of pain.
He gazed at the trial grounds looming in the distance, and his ears seemed to echo with Wen Pinglan’s cold, clear voice once again.