ITOTIABSAM | The Immortal on Liuyun Mountain | 159
Shameful.
Truly shameful.
Under the gaze of the public, the reputation of the Wuliang Sword Sect was practically being dragged on the ground.
Enough is enough. The girl in pink wanted to stand up for her senior brother at the first opportunity, but just the six words from the young man's mouth made her dizzy, and she only managed not to fall by supporting herself with her sword.
Shen Qingshu had been injured a few days ago and was recuperating in the mountains. Others didn't know about this, but the old patriarch was aware. However, casually handing over one's own disciple was not the demeanor befitting the leader of a righteous sect.
As one of the few immortal figures in the world, representing more of a deterrent than an active force, the old patriarch's actions were more symbolic; he hadn't intervened directly in a long time.
Only this time, the pressure brought by the young man in white actually caused his own lifebound sword, nurtured in his sea of consciousness, to buzz with excitement, uncontrollably rushing out from between his eyebrows and standing before him.
One high, one low, the qi entwined, and the colors of the world changed.
1101, nervously: "Can we do this? This is Shen Qingshu's home ground." Moreover, it’s host was still injured, and there should be limits even for his beloved boyfriend, right?
However, Xie Ye didn't respond to the system's words.
Similar situations were as common to him as eating and drinking in stories where he served as the protagonist. In countless confrontations, how could he wait for the villain to be ready?
Chi-la—
Faint arcs of golden light flickered in the sky above, presumably disciples of the Wuliang Sword Sect finally realized and activated the mountain protection formation.
The mountain protection formation gathered the power of the spiritual veins of various peaks, merged with the natural energies of heaven and earth, passed down for thousands of years, and was not something mere mortals could contend with. Worried that his disciple might have truly done something wrong, the old patriarch's anger simmered deep within him as he spoke, "This fellow Daoist..."
Crack.
In response, several puppet threads were simultaneously launched, ruthlessly tearing down the golden barrier, which was circulating with light, pulling off a large chunk.
All tangible and intangible things, the moment they were touched by those slender white lines, whether they liked it or not, had to obediently accept the young man's restraint and be manipulated by him.
Casually, Xie Ye flicked his fingers, sending the compressed fragments of spiritual power from the barrier flying towards a nearby mountain peak that caught his eye.
Boom.
As if exploding into a massive firework, he chuckled with lowered eyes, "What did you say?"
Swish, hundreds of spiritual swords simultaneously aimed at him.
Among them were those controlled by the old patriarch and those wielded by disciples of the sect. The onlookers had not yet discerned the situation and dared not join the battlefield recklessly. Nevertheless, even with their combined strength, the hundreds of sword intents in the air made the young man appear somewhat isolated and weak.
In the corner of the plaza in front of the hall, Ma Shitou felt a bit anxious.
After all, he hadn't directly given up on his long-standing desire but had persuaded Mr. Xie to take him along to carefully observe what the cultivation world was really like.
However, the current situation was truly overwhelming. Not to mention ordinary children from the mundane world, even the cultivators present had never seen such a scene before. Ma Shitou quickly let go of Gu Cong's sleeve, about to say that he didn't need protection, when he heard several long cries from above.
"Roar!"
The mountain protection formation of the Wuliang Sword Sect had torn a large hole, as if connecting to some strange and mysterious alternate space. With a crook of the white-clad young man's finger, a dense black shadow was drawn out, scrambling and pushing through the gap.
With angry eyes, sharp claws, and bodies as long as serpents, at first glance, they were probably several dragons.
However, the clouds enveloping them were deep as the night, darker than the auspicious descriptions in books. They seemed more like unruly and ferocious evil dragons, terrifying and fierce. With teeth bared and claws outstretched, with a flick of their tails, they swept away all the spiritual swords aimed at Xie Ye.
And the young man causing this scene? He merely moved his left hand lightly.
Thanks to the refraction of sunlight, everyone could clearly see the puppet threads between the young man's fingers, binding the evil dragons like collars, as fine as silk threads, resembling a heavenly net.
Swallowing hard, Ma Shitou whispered, "Mr. Xie... still keeps dragons?"
Gu Cong who was equally startled, "..."
Recalling the extremely humble courtyard on Liuyun Mountain, he wasn't sure and said, "Perhaps just a few fish in the pond?"
Otherwise, where else could such pets that need to live in water hide?
Ma Shitou looked at Gu Cong's chest with a suddenly bright expression in his eyes:
"If fish can turn into dragons, then what about the white bird?"
Always forgetting that he had a fluffy bundle in his arms, Gu Cong really wanted to tell him that a certain timid bird had been scared unconscious since they went up the mountain and couldn't show off its might.
But in the end, he chose to protect the child's dream and nodded solemnly, "Yes."
The next moment, as if the plot had heard his lie and responded, a fierce sword light attacked. Gu Cong immediately picked up Ma Shitou, not even attempting to dodge, letting himself be struck.
Clang.
As expected, the long sword broke, attracting the attention of most cultivators.
The soul lamp that had been carried day and night suddenly burst into a large spark, wildly shaking in the mustard seed space. The head of the Song family looked at the unfamiliar face of the young man and tentatively reached out, "He'er?"
—Who is the skinny black child next to him? Could it be his grandson?
At the same time, in just these two sentences, the old patriarch with white hair had already drawn his sword, flying forward to engage in battle with the young man in white.
Swords clashed, fierce winds raged, blotting out the sun and moon in the sky, while on the ground, there was a scene of people staring at each other in shock. With a casual gesture, a dragon nearly flew towards another mountain peak.
Gu Cong set Ma Shitou down and commanded the dragon to encircle them in rings, protecting the boy. Following Song He's usual habit, he bowed and responded, "Father."
The head of the Song family felt his blood pressure rise.
Guided by the soul lamp, he was very certain that this unfamiliar young man was his son, but his drastically changed appearance always made him feel shocked and heartbroken.
"Corpse, corpse," murmured the head of the Song family, suddenly snapping back to reality, "You've already died once?"
"Is it really Shen Qingshu?"
"It's all the child's own fault." Shaking his head, Gu Cong didn't care about others' opinions, and he recounted in detail the entanglement between the original host and Shen Qingshu.
Once done, it's done. He couldn't selfishly deny the original host's sincere feelings towards Shen Qingshu, even if Song He seemed foolish in the eyes of the outside world.
However, it was necessary to emphasize certain things and tell certain lies.
"After my soul wandered, my primordial spirit was extremely weak, and it was Master who saved me," Gu Cong spoke softly, mixing truth with falsehood, "He also... gave me this current body."
Gradually shifting from anger to numbness, the head of the Song family asked, "So, he is?"
Gu Cong replied, "The immortal, Xie Ye."
There was an immediate collective gasp from the surrounding crowd.
"But he's only here to reclaim my body," Gu Cong earnestly explained, trying to serve as a bridge between the cultivation world and Liuyun Mountain, "He has no intention of causing any trouble."
No intention of causing any trouble?
Looking up at the two streaks of light clashing in the clouds, everyone fell silent once again.
... On another note, did the old patriarch know who he was battling against?
Of course, the old patriarch had no idea.
He felt that every move and technique he executed could be manipulated by the young man through the threads, controlling vines and puppets that seemed to emerge from nowhere, effortlessly intercepting each attack.
But this didn't lead to feelings of defeat. Instead, it stirred up a long-lost sense of exhilaration in him. Even the bottleneck that had persisted for a hundred years showed signs of loosening.
So much so that the old patriarch completely forgot that he had drawn his sword for the safety of his disciples and for the reputation of the Wuliang Sword Sect.
"Good! Excellent!" The majestic sword intent surged like the sea, waves roaring. In the blink of an eye, a thousand miles froze, causing the entire main hall plaza, Haoran Peak, and the entire Wuliang Sword Sect to be covered in swirling snowflakes.
The truly decisive move, however, was inconspicuous, like a firefly, condensed at the tip of the sword, unpretentious yet effective, aimed at Xie Ye's brow.
But then, it was intercepted by a slender, fair finger.
"He's here." Nonchalantly, Xie Ye lowered his eyelids, his robes billowing in the wind, as if effortlessly exerting immense force.
Meanwhile, Gu Cong felt a telepathic connection, curling his fingers into a fist.
He felt pain.
A sharp pain about to split his fingertips.
Even Shen Qingshu, who had been forcibly dragged out by three evil dragons despite being in seclusion to recover from his injuries, couldn't capture his attention.
After all, the protagonist was still the protagonist. Qin Ji, responsible for protecting injustice, showed no mercy. The previously proud evil dragons now stood with missing limbs. After completing their task, they swiftly flew towards Xie Ye like little snakes, as if stepping on invisible stairs.
With a wave of his hand, the young man in white calmly brushed aside the old patriarch's lifebound sword. Step by step, he descended through the snow, approaching the crowd.
In the original work, the protagonist who attained immortality and ascended to the Dao fell to a realm as fragile as a thread of air, and another who knelt with a sword, almost exhausted. Yet, they were defeated before him. Xie Ye, who had died once, showed no intent to kill. Facing Shen Qingshu's eyes filled with hidden fear, he said:
"I mean no harm."
Whether believed or not, this was the truth that Xie Ye, who had been manipulated by the plot in the past, always wanted Shen Qingshu to understand.
Ironically, even in death, the "villain" failed to prove his harmlessness. Now, when he held the power of life and death over the protagonist, Shen Qingshu's gaze began to waver.
But the next moment, the young man in white seemed like a different person, his expression turning cold. Casually using puppet threads to draw a sword, he aimed it at Shen Qingshu's brow and said, "Song He."
"Hand it over."
On the mountain peak, one kneeling and one standing, it was the scene of the original ending. However, the difference was that the fates of the villain and the protagonist had completely reversed.
"Only the lifebound puppet can easily pierce the life gate of an immortal."
Lean and slender, the young man's unprotected back was right in front of him. It felt as if someone kept repeating this sentence in his mind, urging Gu Cong to do what "Song He" should do.
But the pain in his fingertips was so vivid.
"Are you cold?" Firmly, as everyone discreetly stepped back, wary of the possible outbreak of the immortal's temper, Gu Cong lifted his foot and walked to Xie Ye's side. He gently took the cold fingers hidden in the sleeves and said, "Master, rely on me a little more."
There was no betrayal, no confrontation with blades. With the continuous infusion of the same origin spiritual power, Xie Ye's nearly depleted meridians were nourished. Accompanying this was the crisp sound of the fragmentation of the world consciousness.
Such affectionate intimacy, coupled with his timely restraint just now, was enough to prove that the young man was not like the bloodthirsty and irrational immortals described in legends. The main hall plaza fell into silence, and no one stopped Xie Ye's actions.
The old patriarch's voice was solemn: "Qingshu! If you have any grievances..."
As the words fell, several puppet threads extended, probing into the void and forcefully opening Shen Qingshu's storage pouch.
Thud.
The spiritual coffin fell, the formation shattered, and after the coffin lid shifted, the face revealed was none other than Song He.
Author's Note:
1101: Grievances? What grievances!
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