Yan Shu had been out of seclusion for some time now, and he simply took things as they came, feeling completely at ease.
“Immortal Lord, you have emerged from seclusion,” came a greeting that was hardly congratulatory. Yan Shu glanced sideways at him and replied, “Mn.”
Yan Shu hailed from the Lingdan Sect, the number one sword cultivation sect in the realm, serving as an enshrined elder of the school. The title of Immortal Lord was not an official position or administrative duty, but rather an honorific bestowed upon the person with the highest cultivation level in the cultivation world.
The stages of cultivation in the cultivation world are divided into Qi Condensation, Foundation Establishment, Golden Core, Nascent Soul, Spirit Severing, Tribulation Crossing, and Mahayana. Breaking through the Mahayana stage is said to allow one to shatter the void. Yan Shu is currently at the peak of the Tribulation Crossing stage.
Although Yan Shu was nominally a member of the Lingdan Sect, in truth, nobody knew anything about his personal cultivation and techniques, let alone his family background and origins. Yan Shu had appeared a hundred years ago during the great war between humans and demons, slicing open the firmament with a single stroke of his sword.
No one could ever forget the scene of that day. The demon army had pressed heavily upon their borders, black and dense, covering the heaven and earth much like the thick tribulation clouds that gather around a cultivator undergoing a life-and-death tribulation. Corpses littered the ground, and dried blood stained the fertile earth beneath their feet, a deep reddish-brown rendering a desolate sorrow of impending defeat.
Suddenly, a streak of heavenly light pierced through the horizon.
That light was not large, but it was exceptionally brilliant, illuminating the darkened sky. Coming from afar and drawing near, the sky grew brighter and brighter as that white light split apart the arrogant demon army. Within that light, a figure vaguely emerged.
Clad in white robes like jade, snow-white hair trailing to the ground, eyes the color of glazed glass, a silver sword breaking a force of thousands.
The sky was gloomy, the ground dark red, yet only he possessed a dazzling brilliance, standing as the light.
He was… a god.
The terrified and uneasy high-ranking members of the demon clan put on a bold front, furiously demanding to know who he was.
And that person gave a light chuckle: “The person who shatters the demon army.”
At that moment, the cultivators seemed to receive a rallying cry, blankly shedding tears as they wielded their weapons and charged toward the heavily battered demons.
This battle was a resounding victory; the demon troops retreated in defeat, migrating entirely to the Youwang Sea in the north, and for a hundred years, there had been no further disputes.
No one knew where he had come from, nor why he had come, knowing only that shortly after that event, he became the universally recognized Immortal Lord of the cultivation world.
Seeing him in person once again, the disciple felt a sense of trance, his inner fervor and reverence growing even more intense as he heard the person upon the seat ask, “What are you thinking about?”
“This disciple was thinking of that breathtaking sword strike when we first met you, Immortal Lord, which truly was a feat only a heavenly being could perform.”
“Is that so?” Hearing someone bring up that sword strike from back then, the corners of Yan Shu’s lips curved into a smile, though it was unclear whether it was tinged with delight or mocking derision. “Then do you know, the one thing I regret most in this lifetime is having unleashed that sword strike.”
Regretting having unleashed that sword strike? Why? The disciple’s heart was filled with puzzlement, and he was about to ask further when he was grabbed by the collar and hoisted up by the Third Elder, who had hurried over in a rush. “This junior disciple has just entered the sect and doesn’t know the rules. I beg the Immortal Lord to forgive him. This old man will handle his punishment myself.”
“You will handle it yourself?” Yan Shu emphasized the word “yourself,” his emotions suddenly fading away as he thought of something. “Do as you wish.”
Anyway, among the elders, that matter was already a half-open secret.
“Many thanks, Immortal Lord,” the Third Elder rejoiced. This disciple was his only grandson and usually held the utmost admiration for the Immortal Lord; he himself had never mentioned that matter to the boy, who had inadvertently broken a taboo. Hesitating for a moment, the elder spoke again: “The upcoming disciple recruitment grand ceremony is approaching, and will the Immortal Lord be selecting a few satisfactory disciples?” This palace was also… far too desolate.
“There is no need,” Yan Shu said.
The Third Elder asked no more, pulling the junior disciple’s collar as he walked out the door.
How wonderful, Yan Shu’s expression turned dark and murky, the red traces at the corners of his eyes deepening further.
Disciple recruitment… He tapped his fingers unhurriedly against the armrest. According to the pattern of the previous small worlds, this should be the time for that person to appear. For hundreds and thousands of years, that person’s appearance had long been carved into his heart. Yet Yan Shu never drew or painted it, because the moment he laid eyes on that face, his inner emotions would overflow hatred, resentment, fury… along with a trace of an unspeakable and ambiguous sentiment.
Yan Shu would lose control, losing control and destroying things.
Meanwhile, on the other side, the delicate-looking Demon Lord pressed his lips together as he looked over the roster: “Are you serious?”
That’s right, it was a roster. The Left Protector had searched throughout the Demon Realm, the Mortal Realm, and the Cultivation Realm, discovering no fewer than a hundred people whose appearances resembled the portrait, all of which he had reported back to Mu Tinghan.