Chapter 142 Yet Another Friend For Life?

The water in the mid-lake pavilion was murky, which was precisely why there were fish.

Standing inside the pavilion to observe for a long time, Su Fan finally reached this conclusion. Then, stepping out of the pavilion with a sense of satisfaction, he walked toward the opposite bank. Five years was not a brief span, at least not for Su Fan as he had been back then.

When he first condensed his physical body in the initial year, he had already regained consciousness, yet lacked even an ounce of strength to lift himself up—to rise and express his gratitude to that person.

Throughout the following four years, he remained perpetually in seated meditation. In truth, meditation should have posed little difficulty for Su Fan; he could easily have remained seated in meditation for decades.

Yet, caught in such an endless cycle of meditation, without knowing when his cultivation might recover, he found it impossible to calm his mind. He bore too many missions upon his shoulders; should he perish in this manner, his eyes would close with eternal grievance.

Su Fan had indeed considered sinking into oblivion, but the mere closing of his eyes conjured those harrowing, tragic scenes, alongside the lingering knot in his heart concerning a certain someone whom he thought of day and night, a knot that could never be untied. In the end, his heart refused to yield.

Reborn once more this day, he could not help feeling a wave of nostalgia for the scene of watching the snow at the mid-lake pavilion five years ago. Yet it had long since been summer; where could any snow possibly be found?

An unprovoked sense of sorrow assailed his heart, and he sighed, "To think this snow has stopped falling."

"In truth, the mid-lake pavilion possesses many beautiful sights even in summer. The joyful fish in the water understand this far better than you do." A leisurely and relaxed voice drifted from the secluded corridor as an old woman clad in black robes walked out from within.

Su Fan’s expression froze slightly, and he hurriedly cupped his fists and said, "Greetings... Master."

The word "Master" sounded exceedingly awkward on his lips, whether because he thought of that person far away in Tianyuan Prefecture, or because he felt no genuine master-disciple bond toward the woman before him.

The old woman smiled faintly, casually smoothing her hem as she gazed toward the distant mountain foot, and said indifferently, "You and I ultimately lack the fate of master and disciple. I shall not force this title of Master."

Su Fan suddenly understood. Since the youth in blue robes already knew his true identity and origins, this old woman naturally knew everything as well. After a sheepish smile, he spoke respectfully, "Thank you, Senior, for taking me in."

It was a strange conversation, nearly disjointed, yet both understood it completely. Neither of them broke the unspoken accord, which allowed their dialogue to continue quite pleasantly.

The old woman nodded with surprising affability, then seated herself upon a stone step, smiling as she said, "Watching the snow at the mid-lake pavilion is undeniably the most exquisite season of the Xuanji Sect, but the blazing warmth of midsummer is not inferior in the least."

Su Fan cast his gaze about. The slender weeping willows, having long since sprouted new branches, swayed gently in the breeze, displaying a boundless vitality that contrasted sharply with the languid stillness of the bitter winter.

The fish within the nameless lake were actually mimicking wild geese in the sky, at one moment forming neat arrays and at the next darting swiftly away. Their spiritual energy was strikingly intense; lacking the burden of saving lives, they remained thoroughly cheerful.

The distant green mountains, illuminated by the blazing rays of the sun, had shed their layer of obscure mist. The mountain foothills stood clearly revealed before his eyes, carrying a distinct sense of rugged and ancient simplicity.

"Is this what it means to be alive?" Su Fan suddenly asked.

Taken aback by this unexpected question, the old woman paused, unsure how to reply. All things in creation naturally existed; why single out the present moment as being alive?

Su Fan suddenly burst into roaring laughter. "Since this is life, then during the bitter winter, when all things lie dead and silent, that must be death—"

The old woman shook her head and sighed, "Life and death are the grand Dao of heaven and earth..." Yet, remembering that the young man before her had once summoned a heavenly tribulation and emerged reborn from the ordeal, proving himself to be a mighty cultivator, she forcefully swallowed the words that had already reached the tips of her lips.

Puzzled, Su Fan gazed repeatedly at the scenery, lost in thought, immersed in something unknown. Cultivation placed great emphasis on enlightenment; could he perhaps be seeking enlightenment?

Startled by this notion, the old woman mused that while enlightenment was indeed necessary, most profound cultivators directed their insights inward. For instance, someone obsessed with the sword would contemplate their own infatuation with swordsmanship, rather than attempting to comprehend the sword itself.

Yet Su Fan at this moment resembled someone trying to comprehend the sword. The sword was an object of nature—an external entity. How could one comprehend it? One could only truly understand oneself; how could one possibly understand things outside oneself? Without understanding, how could enlightenment be achieved?

She intended to interrupt Su Fan’s train of thought and guide him back to the righteous path, but considering that this person was far from ordinary, it was not entirely impossible that he might actually gain some insight. Therefore, she simply settled quietly to the side, waiting to see how events would unfold.

His thoughts were vast as the sea, and his consciousness was like a boat drifting upon a mighty river.

The river's current was turbulent; one had to steer the vessel while simultaneously rowing against the current.

Gaining insight into oneself was akin to going with the flow. The purple-robed elder had attained his own realm by realizing his loyalty to the purple lineage within his heart, while the wine scholar, infatuated with wine, had transformed the illusory into reality to achieve his own domain of intent.

These achievements were immensely precious, for they were realms that countless people pursued throughout their entire lives. Once one comprehended these, the three realms of transforming into the Dao would present no further obstacles. Yet this was not what Su Fan desired; what he sought was the supreme Dao. What, then, was the supreme Dao?

It was to peer into the Dao of heaven and forge one's own Dao.

It was the Dao, not merely a realm.

Ever since he first stepped into the seven-colored palace, observed its flickering transformations, and touched upon the Dao of life and death, Su Fan had harbored a daring notion: if one could truly comprehend life and death, could one perhaps bring the dead back to life?

Even though many years had passed, the life and death of his parents remained an unhealed scar in his heart, even though they were merely mortals, and even though that man, his father, had not seemed particularly benevolent. Even if they had long since plunged into the cycle of reincarnation, his heart refused to be resigned. As long as a sliver of hope remained, he had to strive for it.

Life and death were, after all, the grand Dao; not everyone could peer into them, even if he was a mighty cultivator, even if he was Su Fan. Yet, when all was said and done, he remained Su Fan—a cultivator who had only just stepped into the Nascent Soul stage.

The Nascent Soul stage was considered remarkably rare within the world of cultivation; nevertheless, as the peak of the first major step in cultivation, it did not seem to possess any overwhelming might.

"I wonder how many days remain until the grand tournament," Su Fan suddenly asked.

Coming out of nowhere, this abrupt sentence startled a few pecking birds and also caught the old woman off guard. She gave two dry coughs to mask her embarrassment and said in a deep voice, "I actually came here to speak to you about this, but slipped my mind. The grand tournament is a month away, but we must set off for Qingming Valley tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Is Qingming Valley very far?" Su Fan asked with a wry smile.

The old woman cast a dubious glance at the young man before her, thinking to herself whether this person was truly as demonic in intellect as the sect master claimed. How could he not even know something like this?

"We depart early precisely to guard against any ill-intentioned individuals laying an ambush."

Su Fan nodded slightly, then hastily asked again, "The location was decided five years ago. If they weren't afraid of a five-year wait, why fear a few days of ambushes?"

The old woman shook her head helplessly, her internal reverence for the young man plummeting sharply.

"Who would lay an ambush for five years? Over five years, an ambush party would long since have perished from mental exhaustion. How could they possibly ambush you and me?"

Su Fan nodded silently, pressing the matter no further. However, regarding his own affairs, he felt compelled to ask a few more questions, even though the other party seemed somewhat impatient with him.

"This junior's storage bag was destroyed, leaving me without any suitable magical treasures..."

The old woman’s expression suddenly shifted, and she quickly said, "Oddly enough, although your storage bag was ruined, a broken sword inside it somehow remained completely intact."

"A broken sword?" Su Fan asked in confusion. Suddenly, recalling his encounter at the Tibetan Sword Pavilion of the Tianyuan Sect, he remembered that very broken sword and urgently asked, "Do you know where the broken sword is?"

The old woman casually tossed over a storage pouch and smiled, "Inside are some recovery pills, as well as a few life-saving paper talismans. As for magical treasures... my Xuanji Sect is a minor sect, so we have nothing remarkable to offer."

Su Fan paused, then hurriedly waved his hand. "It is no matter. These are more than enough."

...

The night passed without incident.

The disciples participating in this trial could be considered the absolute elite. There were fifteen disciples in total; excluding Su Fan and Yuming who were at the Nascent Soul stage, the remaining thirteen were all Golden Core cultivators. Described in terms of lineup, this was even more formidable than the force the old woman had drilled years ago.

Meeting Yuming again made pleasantries inevitable. Had it not been for Yuming, Su Fan might well have been killed by Uncle-Master Liu; and had Su Fan not promptly summoned the spiritual energy of heaven and earth to heal Yuming, even the old woman with her heaven-defying abilities could not have saved him.

Given these events, the two of them now shared a bond akin to life-and-death comrades. Thus, exchanging pleasantries upon meeting again was entirely natural, and coupled with Su Fan’s deep fondness for Yuming, chatting and laughing freely came easily.

"Why is the Junior Uncle-Master nowhere to be seen?"

"It is said the Junior Uncle-Master intends to go and welcome them upon their return."

The conversation between the sect leaders also drew the attention of many observing disciples. Casting a meaningful glance at the sect master, the old woman smiled and said, "It appears there will be quite a spectacle this time."

Ignoring the old woman’s obscure implication, the sect master smiled at the gathered disciples and announced in a ringing voice, "The Junior Uncle-Master’s intent is simply that every single one of you must return safely."

Before their departure, Su Fan once again bid farewell to the deacon who had guided him over the past five years. Pleasantries were sparse, replaced instead by injunctions and even stern reprimands.

Silently watching those disciples and the deacon, Su Fan felt as though his heart had returned to that distant era, to that unostentatious sect, the mountain covered in blooming purple flowers, and the palace suspended in mid-air.

Parting ways brought too many emotions. The sect leaders did not accompany them, instead allowing the disciples to make the journey on their own. Rather than calling it a trial, it was more akin to a struggle of life and death, for true growth could only be forged in such trials.

"You and I are both growing old. Perhaps after this trial, this sect will have to be handed over to them to manage."

Hearing the old woman’s sigh, Ye Dao seemed to age a little more as well. Gazing at those figures disappearing into the distance, he suddenly remarked, "I remember the year Yuming arrived was the very year you returned from your own trial."

The old woman’s gaze drifted into the distance as she murmured in melancholy, "He has suffered bitterly these past few years. Just as I learned how to kill, I had to teach him to kill as well. Fortunately, he is very obedient."

Ye Dao laughed heartily. "Before a genius like you, he had little choice other than to bow his head."

The old woman shook her head with displeasure and retorted tartly, "Lately you always call me a genius, yet you surpass people like us a hundredfold and more."

Ye Dao’s expression gradually grew murky. Looking toward the blood-red sunset, he smiled faintly, "Genius, genius... there are countless talents in this world, yet they all gather in the imperial capital—that indescribable, majestic city. I only wonder where Su Fan’s path will ultimately lead him."

"How could a tiny Yongle Prefecture contain him? I fear even the imperial capital may fail to catch his eye. I have heard that beyond the Great Song lies the extraterritorial realm; who knows what manner of place that is."