During this disciple-recruitment grand ceremony, the Yaoguang Immortal Lord, who was the center of all attention in the Xiaoyao Sect, once again failed to show his face.
Chi Changye’s followers were already accustomed to the fact that the Yaoguang Immortal Lord would not appear in crowded places.
Yue Qianfan was also quite helpless.
Although he was the Sect Master of the Xiaoyao Sect, he simply couldn’t control Chi Changye.
Even if Chi Changye wanted to become the Sect Master, he could only step aside and cede the position.
Oh, but Chi Changye detested being Sect Master; having to face countless disciples and major immortal sects every day would be more painful to him than slow slicing.
This time around, Chi Changye’s period of seclusion lasted a full ten years.
No one knew what on earth had happened to make the Yaoguang Immortal Lord suddenly go into seclusion and refuse to emerge for so long.
It wasn’t until Chi Changye finally emerged from seclusion that Yue Qianfan, who was in the middle of teaching combat techniques to his newly admitted disciples, finally showed a keen stroke of insight.
“Lao Chi, what is wrong with you? Why is your face still this pale?”
Looking at Chi Changye, Yue Qianfan saw a paper-white complexion exposed beneath the young man’s half-mask, and unconsciously knitted his brows.
“If you didn’t see sunlight for ten years, you’d look as white as a ghost too.” Chi Changye let out a cold snort, not even sparing a single glance for that cluster of new disciples who were staring at him with eager eyes.
“Don’t talk nonsense.” Yue Qianfan was choked up by his retort, yet didn’t feel annoyed. “Your current appearance is clearly not a normal kind of white.”
Even if he himself spent a hundred years without basking in the sunlight, he wouldn’t be completely devoid of any trace of blood color.
After all, they were cultivators of immortality, not ordinary mortals.
Without a word of explanation, Yue Qianfan seized Chi Changye’s wrist and locked onto his pulse.
For a cultivator of immortality, having one’s pulse suddenly seized by another was a supreme taboo.
Therefore, even against Yue Qianfan, Chi Changye reflexively shook off his hand with a jerk: “You’re sick!”
Unfortunately, Yue Qianfan had already intercepted his pulse.
“Chi Changye, what on earth have you done? You” Yue Qianfan’s complexion turned ashen as well. He stared at Chi Changye in shock, meeting Chi Changye’s icy gaze, and silently swallowed back the rest of his unfinished words.
“Continue practicing your drills, and have the Tianquan Immortal Lord lead you.” Facing the newly initiated disciples, Yue Qianfan forced himself to maintain a smiling expression, turning his head to greet the Second Elder standing nearby: “Old Zhao, I’ll have to trouble you.”
“Carry on with your business.” The Tianquan Immortal Lord nodded.
Yue Qianfan dragged Chi Changye away as he walked. Chi Changye shook him off once more: “If we’re walking, just walk; stop pulling and dragging.”
Yue Qianfan didn’t care about his objections in the slightest. After being shaken off countless times, he forcefully dragged the man into a deserted corner: “What is going on with you? Why is your soul incomplete?”
Chi Changye’s pulse was abnormal; he lacked his seven physical souls, and even his three spiritual souls were incomplete!
Chi Changye glared at him with a look akin to a cat gazing at its foolish poop-shoveling owner: “Are you out of your mind? I’ve always been like this. Missing whose head?”
Chi Changye turned around and walked away: “I only came to notify you that I am going to wander the mortal realm, so don’t come looking for me.”
Yue Qianfan froze instantly: “Chi Changye, have you lost your damn mind?! You’re in this kind of state and you’re still going to the mortal realm? You might as well just go court death!”
The usually elegant and amiable immortal sect sect master presented a rather comical sight as he stamped his feet and cursed aloud at this moment.
Chi Changye waved a hand dismissively with his back turned to him: “Alright, I’m not going to die anyway, stop nagging.”
Not going to die, just a bit weak.
It didn’t even affect him getting into fights.
If he hadn’t known he couldn’t win against Chi Changye in a fight, Yue Qianfan would simply have wanted to knock Chi Changye unconscious right then and there!
Wander the realm what kind of wandering!
Was it more important than his own life?
If Chi Changye had any inkling of Yue Qianfan’s thoughts, he would surely have told him that the least important thing in this world was his own life.
Chi Changye had always known what the purpose of his birth was.
He was born without parents, wandering alone between heaven and earth, born for the sole purpose of purging the injustices of this world.
If he were unable to eradicate those injustices, or if there were no longer any evil-doers in the world, then his existence would likewise become utterly meaningless.
Chi Changye knew he was merely a sword left behind for the world by fallen gods a sword that could be taken out and sacrificed at a critical moment.
A sword had no need for emotions; being able to kill was enough.
A sword neither felt pain nor wept, and could snap itself to seek survival when necessary.
To seek survival for the millions of common people.
Chi Changye transformed into a streak of azure light, vanishing before Yue Qianfan’s eyes.
Three days before Chi Changye emerged from seclusion, an event occurred that was entirely negligible to the entire Xuanhuang world, yet simultaneously of vital importance.
The Nine Provinces Under the Clouds, Central Continent
The capital of the Great Xia Dynasty, Shangjing.
If one were to ask who held the most power in Shangjing, that would truly be hard to say; after all, the one sitting high above was also kept in check by a multitude of ministers.
However, if one were to ask whose household was the wealthiest, everyone would undoubtedly give the exact same answer: the Geng family.
The Geng family of Shangjing possessed a wealth accumulated across three generations of imperial merchants that could hardly be described as anything less than massive.
People often joked that even the gold and silver ingots in the imperial treasury didn’t outnumber those of the Geng family.
At this moment, in the backyard of the Geng estate, a dignified-looking, lavishly dressed matron was sitting in a Hainan yellow rose chaise lounge, sipping tea.
The matron looked to be around forty, with a charming countenance and a benevolent expression.
Due to careful preservation, one could still discern the peerless grace and elegance of her youthful days.
The luxuriously dressed matron frequently glanced toward the courtyard, seemingly waiting for someone.
“Mother.”
A crisp call rang out.
The lavishly dressed matron instantly broke into a smile, put down the teacup in her hand, and raised her head to look toward the doorway.
A brocade-clad youth of refined elegance and peerless grace ran smiling into the inner hall, throwing himself right into her embrace.
“Slower, slower, mind you don’t trip.” The lavishly dressed matron caught her pampered son, the smile extending from the corners of her eyes all the way to her lips.
Smiling affectionately as she caught the youth, she reached out to gently stroke his hair: “Look at you, what a state you’ve worked up into—all this sweat.”
As she spoke, she used a handkerchief to gently wipe away the crystalline beads of sweat glistening on the youth’s forehead.
Allowing his mother to wipe away his sweat, the youth raised his head with a smile toward her: “I went out playing polo with Lin Zixiang, and didn’t have time to change my clothes upon returning before coming to see Mother. It was Xinghe who lacked courtesy.”
The youth was precisely Geng Chen, styled Xinghe, the young master of the Geng family, the premier imperial merchant clan in the capital. And this lavishly dressed matron was naturally his mother, Madam Geng (née Wang).
Despite his words of lacking courtesy, Geng Xinghe displayed no trace of guilt or remorse for any such “discourtesy,” smiling as he acted spoiled before his mother: “Mother, is there an ice bowl? It’s so hot.”
The sixteen-year-old youth was pampered by his parents to the point of remaining as innocent, carefree, and untroubled as a child who had yet to reach his coming-of-age capping.
“Knowing you’re afraid of the heat, I had it prepared for you long ago. Hurry and eat.” Madam Wang’s smile grew even more doting. “Don’t be too greedy, lest you catch a chill.”
“I know, thank you, Mother,” Geng Xinghe said with a smile, a pair of beautiful eyes flashing with dazzling starlight.
As Geng Xinghe stood up, a maidservant had already come forward holding an exquisite sandalwood tray bearing an eight-petaled rose-flower crystal bowl and a silver-inlaid rhinoceros-horn spoon.
Smiling, the youth picked up the bowl and spoon, sat down beside his mother, and ate in small, delicate bites.
Madam Wang gazed affectionately at the youth, reaching out to take a purple-bamboo-handled, Kesi-silk-woven lingzhi-ruyi round fan from the maid beside her, gently fanning her son.
What a picture-perfect scene of a loving mother and a filial son.
However, before Geng Xinghe could finish the ice bowl in his hand, a noisy clamor suddenly sounded from outside.