Ximen Changhai's Shock
Tie Lehun slumped on the steps of the Viewing Platform, his body soaked in blood, his black bear cloak tattered, and his wolf-skin crown hanging askew on his head.
He looked up at the Han people deity who descended step by step from the heavens before him.
Fear overwhelmed him like a tidal wave.
The White Mountain Wolf King, who just moments ago boasted of being "unafraid of death" and accused the Immortals of being "unreasonable,"
At this moment, his whole body was trembling violently, and he couldn't even lift a single finger.
He wanted to run away, to roar, to draw his sword, but faced with this god who was approaching step by step, he found that he didn't even have the courage to resist.
That was simply an existence he couldn't contend with.
His grand ambition to unify the various tribes of Hezhen, and his meticulously planned southward expansion, were all less significant than a single glance from this Immortal.
The Immortal, however, never once glanced at him.
It was as if the one sitting at his feet was nothing more than a harmless ant.
Gao Yunyi landed on the Viewing Platform, stood with his hands behind his back, his clothes hanging down, without a trace of blood.
His expression was indifferent, his gaze passing over Tie Lehun, sweeping across the blood-stained valley, and landing in the far distance, as if he were watching a storm that had nothing to do with him.
He did not immediately take Tie Lehun's life, nor did he utter a single word.
Bai Suzhen and her master were of one mind.
Her enormous dragon body slowly coiled in the sky, her golden vertical pupils descending and sweeping over the shivering boy on her back, who was still trying to hold on. She then understood her master's meaning.
Without the slightest hesitation, her massive dragon body nimbly turned and swooped down.
With a gentle lift of its broad dragon tail, it steadily lifted Zhang Qishan, along with the swaddled infant he was holding tightly in his arms, and carried them to a deserted hilltop in the distance.
Snow fell on that mountaintop, and all was silent.
Zhang Qishan was gently placed on the mountaintop. Only when his feet touched the solid frozen earth did he realize that he had left the Jiaolong that had been circling in the clouds.
He raised his head in a daze, gazing at the blood-stained valley in the distance, and at the figure in blue robes standing alone on the Viewing Platform. For a moment, he couldn't tell whether the Immortal was heartless or compassionate.
He killed hundreds of thousands of He True Person without even blinking.
But He was concerned about whether a complete stranger, a mere mortal boy, might freeze to death in the snow high in the sky.
The mountain wind howled, and the snow fell silently.
Zhang Qishan held his sleeping younger brother in his arms and stood on the hilltop for a long time.
He finally came to his senses, gently exhaled a breath of white air, and gazed at the ethereal figure in blue standing on the Viewing Platform in the distance.
Suddenly, the thought arose in his mind that he wanted to protect this Immortal for the rest of his life.
Although Immortals don't need it at all.
But this feeling was beyond the control of reason, taking root and sprouting in his heart.
Just as he was gazing intently into the distance, his mind completely captivated by the celestial figures on the distant Viewing Platform, a steady, slow footstep suddenly came from the snow beside him.
Creak... creak...
The sound of boots crunching through the thick snow was exceptionally clear on the desolate mountaintop.
The boy tensed up, his back instantly straightening.
His first thought was that the remaining enemy forces had reached the top of the mountain.
He was holding his sleeping younger brother in his arms; this was his only remaining close relative in the world, and he absolutely could not let anything happen to him.
Zhang Qishan instinctively clutched the swaddling clothes tightly under his left arm, lowered his body slightly, tightened his pupils, and assumed a posture of fighting to the death.
But as soon as the wind and snow subsided and he saw the person clearly, his tense body suddenly froze, and his pupils slowly relaxed.
The approaching soldiers were not the remnants of the Hezhen army, clad in animal skins and carrying scimitars.
Instead, he was a Han people, middle-aged, wearing a gray cloth robe stained with mud and snow from the mountains, his robe torn in many places by thorns, and his hair tied messily at the back of his head.
His face was weathered and worn, and his brows and eyes were shrouded in an unyielding melancholy and weariness.
A long sword was slung across his waist, its scabbard covered with scratches left from his travels through the mountains and forests.
It was Ximen Changhai, who had traveled with the caravan and then parted ways with Gao Yunyi at the crossroads outside the city.
Ximen Changhai slowly walked out from the pine forest.
He was carrying several heavy wild boar hides on his shoulders, the hides still retaining a faint fishy smell.
He carried a simple leather bag containing cut-up wild boar meat, which he had hunted deep in the mountains.
After parting ways with everyone outside Jinzhou City, he plunged alone into the vast Changbai Mountain, determined to find the legendary Thousand-Year-Old Mountain Ginseng that could save his daughter's life.
Over the past month, he has traversed countless secluded valleys and shady cliffs, and searched through the black tundra where ginseng grows most easily.
During the day, they trekked through the mountains and forests against the biting cold wind, and at night they huddled in caves, subsisting on dry rations and the meat of the animals they hunted.
He endured poisonous insects, wild beasts, and blizzards in the mountains, but he couldn't even find a single ginseng root that was over a hundred years old.
Thousand-Year-Old Mountain Ginseng, is extremely rare.
In the end, the faint hope in Ximen Changhai's heart was gradually worn away by the harsh and cold mountains and forests.
He knew that continuing the aimless search would be futile.
His daughter was bedridden at home and didn't have much time left; he couldn't stay in the deep mountains indefinitely.
Utterly disappointed, he had no choice but to descend the mountain.
He remembered that when they were traveling together in a caravan, a senior colleague casually mentioned that he wanted to see the local specialties of Liaodong.
Ximen Changhai kept this in mind. He had received guidance on Sword Dao from his senior and had suddenly grasped the true Sword Intent overnight. This kindness was as heavy as a mountain.
Having no treasures to offer in return, he spent several days hunting in the mountains before descending, killing several large wild boars and tanning their hides.
Thinking that if he were to meet the senior again by chance, he would present these animal hides as a small gift to express his gratitude.
However, on the way down the mountain, they heard deafening cries and roars coming from a distant valley, along with a completely different kind of oppressive force amidst the wind and snow.
Startled and suspicious, he followed the sound and climbed the hilltop, wanting to see what had happened from a distance.
But the moment he parted the pine trees and looked down into the valley below,
He was struck dumb, frozen in place.
The lingering chill of the icicles still lingered in the air; blood mixed with remnants of snow formed dark red icy pools in the valley, and corpses littered the ground, making it resemble a hellish landscape.
On that log Viewing Platform, a figure in blue robes stood alone, calmly overlooking the sea of blood.
It was the senior master who accompanied him all the way and guided him to comprehend the Sword Intent.
Fragments of the past exploded in Ximen Changhai's mind like a tidal wave.
That seemingly casual Sword Qi allowed him to comprehend Sword Intent overnight, break free from constraints, and take an unprecedented step forward.
At that time, he only thought that the other party was a reclusive master who had mastered the art of Sword Dao.
Only when he witnessed this scene of annihilating an army did he awaken from his dream.
What Sword Saint Murong Wudi? He's no match for the person before you.
It turned out that the person traveling with him all the way was none other than the legendary Azure Profound Immortal Venerable.
Ximen Changhai stood under the pine trees, staring blankly at the figure in green in the valley, his heart filled with mixed feelings.
Shock, awe, and a touch of inexplicable melancholy.
He had previously been desperately searching for the Azure Profound Immortal Venerable, hoping to obtain an Immortal Elixir to save his daughter's life.
Little did he expect that the Immortal he had been searching for day and night had already been traveling with him and had even bestowed upon him fortuitous opportunity of the Sword Dao.
He involuntarily stepped forward, crushing the snow under his feet and making the same sound that had startled Zhang Qishan.
"Child, don't be afraid, I am not He True Person. My name is Ximen Changhai."
Upon hearing this, Zhang Qishan's eyes still showed some wariness, but it was no longer the same as when he was fighting to the death.
He glanced up at the weary, middle-aged swordsman, then looked back at the figure in blue robes on the Viewing Platform, and spoke softly, his voice tinged with tension:
"You know the Immortal Venerable?"
"Know."
Ximen Changhai nodded slightly, his gaze returning to the blood-stained valley below. His long eyelashes drooped, and complex emotions surged in his melancholy eyes.