Chapter Fifty-Five: The Gray-Haired Youth Is a Bit Strange
He truly let Su Fan go, because he himself had already departed. Su Fan stared at Hong Ling in astonishment; Hong Ling smiled faintly and said, “Shall we leave?”
Su Fan asked, “Where to?”
Hong Ling replied, “Back to Tianyuan Sect. I’ll take you to see my father, and have him accept you as his disciple. That way, Elder Huang won’t dare to kill you anymore.”
Su Fan hurriedly said, “I won’t go.”
Hong Ling’s expression changed instantly. She asked, “Why?”
Su Fan replied, “No reason. I’m leaving.”
Hong Ling sighed helplessly. “Then I’ll see you off the mountain.”
The mountain path was rugged, but for cultivators it posed no difficulty. The two walked in silence, not because Hong Ling disliked talking, but because Su Fan always remained silent. Thus, both simply lowered their heads and walked in silence.
Suddenly, Su Fan stopped. Beside him, Hong Ling had already collapsed. Su Fan was about to form a hand seal when a fine silver needle struck him, sending him to the ground.
The elder in yellow emerged from the void, sneering. “Let you go? I’m not that foolish.”
As he spoke, the yellow-robed elder flashed to their side, gripping his yellow long needle, ready to stab Hong Ling. He muttered, “You can only blame your bad luck. If I let you go, and you speak of today’s events, what face would I have left in Tianyuan Sect?”
The long needle descended, aimed straight at Hong Ling lying on the ground. With a crisp sound, the needle struck the earth instead. A scarlet flash burst forth, fiercely hitting the elder in yellow.
Caught off guard, he was sent flying, crashing into a boulder by the roadside, shattering it to pieces. The elder’s body wavered, spitting blood that stained his grizzled face, making him look eerie and bizarre.
The red light whisked Hong Ling away, vanishing from the scene. The elder in yellow forced himself upright, slowly approaching Su Fan. His face was dark as he lifted Su Fan, pressing two fingers to Su Fan’s brow.
Suddenly, a figure descended—a person clad in black, enveloped by mist, their face obscured. The yellow-robed elder smiled faintly. “So both senior and junior brothers wish to kill me. Then I shall depart first.”
The man in black spoke in a hoarse voice, “Do you still remember Nameless?”
The yellow-robed elder sighed deeply, withdrew his finger, and pressed it to his own brow. Streams of yellow light flowed from his fingertips into Su Fan’s brow. Gradually, his entire body began to wither.
His once full face became sallow and gaunt; in his hollow sockets, two pitch-black eyes rolled as if about to fall out. He smiled and said, “I’ve repaid your kindness. From now on, there is no longer any debt between us.”
The man in black said, “You cannot leave.”
Pain twisted the elder’s face. He said, “We are brothers—can you not spare me?”
The man in black replied, “I cannot.”
The elder in yellow sighed. “Very well. Please use my Peach Blossom Needle.” With a wave of his finger, the yellow long needle floated toward the man in black.
He raised his hand, and the needle hovered before him. He slapped the air, and the needle shot toward the elder’s brow, swift as lightning.
Yet as it reached the elder’s brow, it halted, as if reluctant to pierce its master. The elder shouted.
The needle quivered violently, then plunged into his brow, vanishing within. The elder’s gaze grew cold as he looked at Su Fan.
With a thunderous burst, the elder dissolved into a cloud of blood.
The man in black swept his sleeve, gathering Su Fan, and soared toward the horizon.
When Su Fan awoke again, three days had passed. The furnishings of the room were familiar; it was just as when he had awakened previously, and the room was empty.
The recent events felt like a dream. He smiled bitterly and was about to rise when the elder in purple entered, his expression solemn.
Su Fan was about to rise and thank him, but the elder’s words interrupted him. “Hurry and come with me. The Sect Master has summoned all the Tianyuan disciples to Crimson Fir Peak.”
Su Fan protested, “But I am not a disciple of Tianyuan Sect. How can I go?”
The elder gave no explanation; forming a hand seal, Su Fan found himself compelled to rise and follow, unable to break free, as if a great hand controlled him.
Unable to resist, Su Fan could only obey and follow.
The violet clouds in the sky receded, and the elder’s speed was so great that Su Fan felt as if his body would be torn apart by the fierce winds. Though he could fly himself, he had never experienced such force.
The elder seemed to notice, coughed twice, and a stream of purple energy enveloped Su Fan, soothing him.
Moments later, crimson clouds appeared before Su Fan’s eyes. He was struck by the sect’s strong division of portals and wondered if the other five branches had their own colors as well. He sighed—Tianyuan Sect’s power was not something a mere junior could easily comment on.
Crimson Fir Peak was vast, nearly ten times the size of Violet Mist Peak. Its buildings were countless, stretching beyond sight. If he extended his divine sense, perhaps he could count them, but Su Fan refrained—such strong division existed here, and a rash display would surely be misunderstood by those of the red branch.
From the air, Su Fan saw that behind Crimson Fir Peak, a seven-colored platform floated in the sky, nearly covering the entire back mountain. The stone platform was suspended in midair, divided into seven colors, representing the seven branches of Tianyuan Sect.
Su Fan landed in the purple sector with the elder. Looking around, he saw that the blue branch disciples had already filled half the platform; the red branch had nearly filled its sector, with some low-ranking disciples floating in midair.
The other branches were also packed, except for the purple sector, which held only Su Fan and the elder. Su Fan felt awkward, but the elder remained calm, eyes closed.
The disciples were noisy, especially those of the yellow branch, whose faces were filled with anger. Su Fan suddenly understood the true reason for the gathering.
He was about to ask the elder when a familiar voice drew his attention.
“Su Fan?”
The voice was full of doubt, tinged with excitement.
Su Fan followed it to the blue sector. At its forefront stood two men, one in blue robes, his gaze stern yet gentle, giving a sense of comfort.
The other was a young man in a blue brocade robe, handsome and striking, his cultivation so profound that even Su Fan could not discern it.
Their eyes met, and the blue-robed youth softly called, “Su Fan.”
Su Fan rushed forward, grasping his hands. “Xiao Lin, we meet again.”
Xiao Lin rubbed his eyes, as if to prove it was no dream, repeating, “We meet again, we meet again.”
Su Fan smiled faintly; meeting an old friend in a foreign land brought a joy beyond words.
Xiao Lin poured out his woes: “That day, my master and I went to find you. Learning you had disappeared, we searched, but could not find you. For years, whenever I had time, I returned to the place you vanished, but always in vain. I never imagined I’d see you again here.”
Su Fan was too moved to speak, only nodding silently as hope welled up within him.
Xiao Lin asked, “How did you come here?” As he spoke, his gaze swept over the elder in purple.
Su Fan quickly replied, “I was injured, and happened to be rescued by the elder in purple, who brought me here.” He concealed much, not because he distrusted Xiao Lin, but because some things were best kept to oneself.
Besides, there were many matters Su Fan felt were not so simple and could not be spoken lightly.
As they conversed, a piercing howl sounded; a flash of red descended at the forefront of the red sector.
It was, of course, the head of the red branch, the Sect Master of Tianyuan, clad in crimson. His demeanor made Su Fan inwardly laugh; the red branch indeed seemed filled with arrogance, from the head down to the common disciples.
Su Fan returned to the elder’s side, who whispered, “Best say nothing at all; you’ll be safer that way.”
Su Fan nodded and lowered his head.
The crimson-robed elder’s face was fierce and vicious—clearly a ruthless man. He announced in a deep voice, “The head of the yellow branch, Elder Huang, has perished.”
His words triggered a violent uproar; the disciples were abuzz as if a pot had been overturned. Su Fan’s heart trembled—had the elder in purple killed him?
Yet the elder remained impassive, as did the other branch heads, as though they had heard nothing. However, the yellow branch disciples could not contain themselves, shouting in anger.
Someone cried, “Avenge our master!”
At once, all the yellow branch disciples echoed the call, their voices shaking the heavens, murderous intent surging. Su Fan felt a strange urge to avenge Elder Huang as well.
Then he remembered: Elder Huang had tried to kill him. Now that he was dead, Su Fan should feel relief. He glanced at the elder in purple.
The crimson-robed elder’s face darkened. “I suspect a traitor has infiltrated our sect. Everyone remain where you are; I will investigate each of you.”
As his words fell, calm returned.
The sect master extended his divine sense, sweeping from the red branch all the way to the purple. Suddenly, he made a sound of surprise. “Junior Brother in purple, is this gray-haired youth your disciple?”
The elder smiled gently. “Sect Master, he is indeed my disciple. I have taken him as my last apprentice.”
The crimson-robed elder sneered, “He seems odd to me, as if he bears traces of Elder Huang’s aura.”
The elder in purple glanced at him, about to speak, when a gentle voice interrupted, “Sect Master in red, I find nothing special about Su Fan. Rather, it was your chief disciple, Hong Yuan, who intended to kill him.”
The crimson-robed elder’s expression changed slightly as he looked toward the speaker.