Chapter Seventy: A Single Finger Covers the Heavens

Snow was falling thickly, drifting at random across the sky. With a casual wave of his hand, Su Fan gathered the swirling flakes into a bridge of snow. He walked lightly across it, followed by Hong Ling, whose eyes were clouded with confusion.

She wondered how Su Fan, after falling into the legendary Ice Lake—a place where even Nascent Soul cultivators could not survive—had not only avoided death, but had returned with even greater powers. But she did not ask, and his silence made it clear that there was more to the story, something he could not reveal.

The snow bridge arched high, almost brushing the all-encompassing mist. Su Fan walked as if on level ground; below, packs of snow wolves glared up at the pair, chaos and fury in their ranks, yet unable to touch them. All they could do was howl their wrath to the sky, venting their frustration and anger.

Not long after, Su Fan and Hong Ling descended the bridge, arriving at the foot of the great snowy mountain. Su Fan’s gaze turned cold for an instant; then he looked at Hong Ling and said, “I have other matters to attend to. You should return to the sect first.”

Hong Ling looked up at him; their eyes met, and then she dropped her gaze, avoiding his. Softly, she said, “Since the day you fell into the Ice Lake, I have kept vigil there for ten years.”

Su Fan replied gently, “I know...”

But Hong Ling cut him off, her voice suddenly rising, “But do you know how many times your master, Uncle Zi Yi, risked his life entering the Ice Lake in search of you during those ten years?” Even before her words were finished, tears sprang to her eyes; she hurried to wipe them away, trying to hide her grief.

Su Fan was startled. “Master?” he murmured.

Hong Ling continued, “Uncle Zi Yi said, ‘Even if I have only one breath left in me, I will bring back my only disciple’s body.’”

Su Fan heaved a heavy sigh. In a low voice, he said, “I must seek vengeance.”

“Vengeance?” Hong Ling replied. “With your current strength, how can you face the entire Three Sovereigns Fort? Do you know how much you mean to Uncle Zi Yi? Even the smallest harm to you causes him great pain.”

Su Fan fell silent, gazing at the grass by the roadside. Was he pondering the strange sight of life—green grass—growing so soon after crossing the frozen mountains? Suddenly, he laughed and said, “Come, let’s return to the sect.”

Hong Ling said nothing; she formed a hand seal, her body turning into a streak of crimson light that shot toward the horizon. Su Fan followed, leaving behind only a trace of violet in the air where he had stood.

Violet Peak, crowned with countless purple flowers, stood like an ancient elder, embracing all things—the wind, the glaring sun, the dew on the petals. Su Fan landed in the familiar courtyard, a wave of nostalgia sweeping through him. He retrieved a wine flask from his storage pouch and drank slowly, settling on the small stone steps before the pavilion—his own little world. The purple flowers seemed to smile at him, and he returned their smile with a foolish grin.

Here, Su Fan could finally relax, let down all his defenses; only here could he sleep without fear. Yet, as always, peace was a luxury easily shattered. Suddenly, Su Fan sprang to his feet, looking to the distance, and with a hand seal, shot toward the violet clouds at the sky’s edge.

Meanwhile, Red Garment Peak was already crowded. In the center stood two men, surrounded by a circle of onlookers—both towering figures of the Tianyuan Sect, men who could command wind and rain: one in violet robes, one in crimson.

The man in violet roared, “Su Fan’s death is your fault! Zi Yun’s death is your fault! At every turn, you oppose me—what do you want?”

The man in red snorted coldly, “Zi Yun’s death was an accident. As for Su Fan, he died because he ignored my warnings—he deserved his fate.”

“Deserved his fate?” thundered the man in violet. “I’ve been to the Great Snowy Mountain—ferocious snow wolves prowl even the outer slopes. Clearly, someone set them there.”

The red-robed man’s face darkened with anger, but his voice was steady. “Brother Zi Yi, if you persist in speaking to me with such disrespect, I won’t hold back.”

“Do you think I fear you?” the violet-robed elder snapped. He formed a hand seal, and a rush of violet light surged from his body.

The onlookers gasped, “He’s using the Qianzi Celestial Phenomenon!”

Though the Qianzi Celestial Phenomenon was the most inscrutable method of the Seven Divisions, none present were strangers to its power.

The red-robed elder’s face was grim; he too formed a hand seal, but retreated, making no move to attack. The violet-robed elder flashed forward, appearing where the red-robed elder had landed.

“Brother, don’t persist in your delusion,” the elder in red called out.

“The sect leader has lost his way,” the other replied. “As head of the Violet Division, I am bound to cleanse our ranks of traitors.”

The red-robed elder sneered, “Have you forgotten the fate of your division’s founder?”

“Even if I must spill blood three feet high, I will seek justice for my disciple!” the violet-robed elder cried.

At last, the red-robed elder could bear no more. He formed a seal, and a crimson light gathered in his hand. The two greatest masters of the Tianyuan Sect—the mightiest in the entire county—were moments from a clash. If Nascent Soul cultivators fought, the consequences would be unimaginable.

“Su Fan?”

From somewhere, a voice rang out. Indeed, only Su Fan’s sudden appearance could hope to quell the violet elder’s rage. More voices followed, and the violet-robed elder instinctively looked to the sky as a streak of purple cloud drifted down.

He stood frozen as Su Fan landed before him. Overcome with emotion, the elder trembled; tears even glimmered in his eyes. What depth of feeling was this, that the indomitable head of the Violet Division, who dared rebuke the sect leader himself, should lose his composure for a disciple? Su Fan smiled gently and said, “Your disciple has returned.”

The red-robed elder watched the horizon with narrowed eyes as a streak of red light descended. He glared coldly at Hong Ling as she landed, but said nothing. Turning to Su Fan, his expression suddenly softened, and he said with a smile, “It’s good you’re back. Now the misunderstanding between your master and me is resolved. Everyone may disperse.”

“Wait,” said the violet-robed elder, turning to the crimson-robed master.

Chuckling, the red-robed elder glanced around at the other division heads. “Brother Zi Yi, do you wish to challenge me today?”

The violet-robed elder’s voice was cold. “Hong Ling said Su Fan was cast into the Ice Lake by a mysterious attacker. I wish to ask Su Fan—does he remember the assailant?”

Su Fan glanced at Hong Ling, who seemed to sense his gaze and quickly lowered her head.

“Master, I know that man. He is the Grand Sage of Three Sovereigns Fort,” Su Fan replied.

At once, the red-robed elder laughed, “Ah, the Grand Sage of the Three Sovereigns. He always bore Su Fan a grudge—this was to be expected.”

The violet-robed elder said nothing more. With a swift gesture, he tapped Su Fan’s brow, and the two vanished into the sky.

Amid rolling clouds, the violet-robed elder stood, gazing after Su Fan with a complicated look. In a low voice, he murmured, “Forgive me for placing this burden on you.”

Su Fan smiled faintly and said, “You two are brothers, after all.”

“But he sought to harm you,” returned the elder.

“Many have tried to harm me,” Su Fan replied, “but my life is hard to take.”

Suddenly, the violet-robed elder burst out laughing. “With such strength of heart, you are destined for greatness. Come—we have accounts to settle.”

“Where are we going?” Su Fan asked.

“To settle scores,” came the reply.

A streak of violet shot across the heavens, Su Fan swept along by his master, experiencing the speed of a Nascent Soul cultivator. The elder seemed to sense his disciple’s awe and envy, and with another hand seal, they flew a thousand miles in the blink of an eye.

This was teleportation. Su Fan was not unfamiliar with it—Lan Yifeng, the spirit residing in his jade pendant, had once used it for him, though the effort had left Lan Yifeng dormant ever since. Now, Su Fan could no longer enter the pendant’s space, no matter how he tried.

Yet he did not show any particular excitement at his master’s teleportation, which puzzled the old man; Su Fan’s strangeness remained inscrutable.

In moments, they landed at the foot of a mountain—a place Su Fan knew well. Here, he had overcome three deadly trials, rivers of blood flowing as countless cultivators perished by his hand. Now, returning to this place, he felt only calmness and cold detachment, all former fury gone.

But his master’s eyes still burned—with anger, with a thirst for vengeance. Gazing at the newly rebuilt stronghold on the mountain, he said, “Now, I shall give you your second great gift.”

With a flash, he landed within a hundred paces of the fortress. Su Fan’s divine sense swept ahead; there was a formation in place—a Copper Bell Array—far more powerful than before, surely the work of a master of formations, perhaps even one versed in the ancient restrictions spoken of in the tales of immortals and demons. Its intricacy surpassed what Su Fan felt able to break; it seemed to carry a faint offensive force, threatening injury at the slightest misstep.

He was about to warn his master, for he could sense the elder’s intent—to kill. But before Su Fan could speak, it was already too late.

With a single finger, the elder struck at the air. Instantly, screams echoed—the phantom copper bells flashed and disintegrated. The entire fortress was reduced to drifting ash, not a trace of man or structure left behind.

It was as if the place had never existed, the ground left smooth and empty.

Su Fan stared in shock at the scene before him: the patrolling guards and distant cultivators had all been turned to dust.

Such was the power of a Nascent Soul cultivator. Su Fan shuddered, an uncontrollable fervor rising in his heart for that supreme realm.