An Old Acquaintance Returns Maimed, Undercurrents Stir Across the Land
Chen Du returned to the courtyard, raised his hand and closed the door, shutting out the moonlight that filled the courtyard.
The faint smile that had been on his face vanished completely the moment the door closed.
Just now, Xuanwei's laughter seemed open and cheerful, shaking down bamboo leaves all over the courtyard, but Chen Du heard it clearly.
Beneath that cheerful demeanor lay a deep, steady layer of worry, hidden very closely, yet never dissipating.
The master never revealed his true feelings, but Chen Du understood perfectly.
The identity of the Crown Prince of the Ling Dynasty, that old thorn in the royal family buried for decades, could not be hidden forever. Sooner or later, it would be exposed, blood would be drawn, and it would be settled.
What Master worried about was not the truth being exposed, but the Heaven Slayer when the thorn was removed.
He feared that when that day truly came, Qingfeng Temple, with its mere 100,000-year-old mountain gate, shallow foundation, and isolated power, would ultimately be unable to protect this disciple born against fate.
Chen Du sat silently on the edge of the bed, his mind calm, and meticulously retraced the entire shocking secret from decades ago.
When the Empress was about to give birth, the palace was heavily guarded, with layers of imperial guards surrounding her. Countless palace maids, eunuchs, midwives, and imperial physicians attended to her closely, making the security extremely tight.
Yet, within this seemingly impenetrable palace, a flawless scheme of switching the prince with a cat was orchestrated.
Not a single person in the entire palace noticed anything amiss.
There are only two possibilities.
Alternatively, the entire palace may be bought off, manipulated, and silenced, with everyone becoming a pawn.
Alternatively, the mastermind behind the scenes possesses extraordinary abilities, a profound understanding of the art, and mysterious techniques, deceiving everyone and obscuring the secrets of the entire palace.
Either way, it's enough to show that the hidden hand behind the scenes has far more power, resources, and methods than he had previously estimated.
It was a vast, silent net that enveloped the entire Ling Dynasty, intricate and unfathomable.
But Chen Du showed no fear in his eyes, only a calm indifference.
When soldiers come, generals will block them; when water comes, earth will dam it.
He had single-handedly overcome even the Earth-Extinction perilous and desolate places like the Divine Prison, where all beings were imprisoned and Heaven Slayer, so why would he fear the undercurrents and intrigues of the mortal court?
In the days that followed, Qingfeng Temple became increasingly deserted and desolate.
Zhao Yuanshan has left, the second senior brother has gone on a long journey, and the fifth senior brother has resigned from the mountain. The once bustling sect is now mostly empty.
The remaining junior disciples were left unsupervised and wandered around the courtyard day after day. Without their senior brothers to supervise them, they even did their daily morning lessons in a lazy and listless manner, and their eyes lacked the pure and vigorous spirit of cultivation.
Chen Du saw this and did not stand idly by.
He simply summoned all his junior disciples to the Bamboo Courtyard and personally lectured them on scriptures and explained their cultivation techniques.
He had a profound understanding of the Dao and a pure mind. His explanations of the Dao were profound yet simple, easy to understand, avoiding the obscure and esoteric talk of the Great Dao in Xuanwei's mouth, and directly pointing to the essence of the practice, the core of the Dao Resonance, and the key points of cultivation.
The junior disciples listened with rapt attention, their eyes shining, every word resonating with them. Their clear, soft "Senior Brother Li Xuan" echoed daily in the bamboo courtyard, a sound both affectionate and respectful.
Chen Du accepted it calmly.
He silently accepted the title of senior brother and the responsibility of the sect.
The quiet bamboo courtyard, thanks to the few youthful voices, has returned to peace and tranquility, where days flow by calmly and uneventfully.
Until this day, a series of hurried footsteps could be heard outside the mountain gate.
Zhao Yuanshan, who had been away from the mountains for a long time, has returned.
However, upon his return, he was no longer the spirited and energetic man he once was.
He was carried back to the mountain gate by two hunters from the foot of the mountain in a simple wooden stretcher.
On the coarse cloth stretcher, Zhao Yuanshan lay quietly, his right sleeve empty, the bare sleeve swaying gently in the wind.
The entire right arm was missing; the wound was wrapped in layers of thick cloth, and dark red blood had long since soaked through the cloth, turning into a dark brownish-black, a shocking sight.
His face was ashen, his lips were cracked and peeling, his Daoist robe was tattered and stained with dust and blood, and he was almost completely exhausted.
Only his eyes remained bright and resilient, their sharpness undiminished by hardship.
Chen Du rushed to the mountain gate.
As Zhao Yuanshan on the stretcher sensed someone approaching, he struggled to lift his eyes and saw his junior brother standing before him. He immediately gave a familiar and hearty laugh, his voice hoarse and weak, yet still carrying his usual carefree spirit. "Junior brother, your senior brother is back. I'm just missing an arm, so please don't mind."
That night, the lights in the bamboo hut remained on.
Chen Du sat quietly by the bed, watching over his senior brother who had returned with a severed arm.
After the medicine entered his stomach, its effects slowly unfolded, and Zhao Yuanshan's complexion improved slightly. Leaning against the headboard, he slowly recounted the tumultuous experiences he had encountered on his journey down the mountain in the mortal world.
After descending the mountain, he traveled to the Capital the Ling Dynasty. Relying on his Qingfeng Temple, he successfully joined the Imperial Guard and secured a position.
At that time, he was extremely ambitious, believing that he possessed Daoist magic and cultivation, and that he would surely make a name for himself in the imperial court and the mortal world, and win a glorious future.
But once he truly stepped into the vortex of the Capital, he realized that the depths of the secular court were far beyond anything he had imagined.
Within the imperial city, power struggles rage, factions abound, and open and covert battles are everywhere. Everyone in the court and the public harbors their own agendas, and forming cliques, framing, and infighting have become the norm.
He was a Daoist practitioner who came from a mountain temple. He was pure of heart, ignorant of power struggles and deceit. Like a blank sheet of paper falling into a murky swamp, he encountered obstacles and difficulties at every turn.
Ultimately, he inadvertently became involved in a major hidden case in the imperial court, glimpsed secrets he shouldn't have seen, and was ordered to be killed overnight.
The opposing force is powerful and ruthless, and their murderous intent permeates the entire city.
He exhausted all his cultivation, fighting his way through countless battles and narrowly escaping death, carving a path to survival from the relentless pursuit. The price he paid was the permanent loss of his right arm, nearly perishing in the mortal world.
"Junior Brother."
Zhao Yuanshan gazed at the lamplight, his tone soft yet unusually firm, without the slightest hesitation. "I've come back this time to say goodbye to you."
"I still have unfinished business, unresolved grievances, and unresolved troubles. I cannot return to the mountains and resume my quiet cultivation in peace until these matters are resolved."
He turned to look at his silent junior brother, his eyes filled with entrustment and concern:
"Master is getting old, and his health is declining year by year. These young disciples in the temple are still young and have no one to take care of them. From now on, I will trouble you to look after the affairs of the temple."
Chen Du quietly looked at his senior brother, who remained as carefree as ever despite his missing arm. After a long silence, he nodded emphatically, his voice steady and reliable:
"Don't worry, senior brother, I'm here."
Each word of the response was powerful and resonant.
Upon hearing this, Zhao Yuanshan instantly broke into a smile, still the same open-minded, enthusiastic, and carefree senior brother he always was, as if the pain of losing an arm and the calamity of death in the mortal world had never left a trace of gloom in his heart.
Then, he slowly began to recount the strange events that had taken place in the world that he had heard about during the months since he descended the mountain.
Suddenly, a peerless demon appeared in the world, whose cultivation was unfathomable. He slaughtered people in all directions, wreaked havoc in several states, and caused widespread suffering and unrest. The government was powerless to suppress him, and cultivators avoided him at all costs.
In addition, the situation in the Ling Dynasty court is becoming increasingly strange and unpredictable, with undercurrents surging beneath the seemingly stable surface. A storm is brewing and turmoil is brewing.
Chen Du listened quietly, without saying a word, silently memorizing all the strange events in the mortal world, the chaos in the world, and the strange occurrences in the court.
Rumors, chaos, charlatans, court intrigue... all these scattered pieces of information are quietly piecing together a vast net that is about to overturn the world.
As dawn broke, the first rays of morning mist began to rise.
Before dawn, Zhao Yuanshan insisted on leaving.
His return was hasty, and his departure resolute.
Chen Du personally escorted him to the outside of the mountain gate.
A thin mist hangs heavy, swirling around the mountains and enveloping the road ahead.
With his remaining left hand, Zhao Yuanshan mounted his horse, pulled on the reins, turned the horse around, glanced back at Qingfeng Mountain one last time, then spurred his horse and galloped away.
The clatter of hooves approached and receded into the vast morning mist, gradually dissipating until they vanished completely without a sound.
Before the mountain gate, a cool mountain breeze blew and morning mist swirled.
Chen Du stood still for a long time, watching his figure disappear completely into the misty mountains and rivers.
As the morning light gradually brightened in the mountains, he finally turned around slowly and returned to the bamboo courtyard.
In the courtyard, a group of young disciples were already waiting in an orderly fashion, sitting upright and quietly waiting for him to begin the morning lesson.
Though the turmoil of the mortal world has begun, undercurrents have already stirred within the mountains and rivers.
The morning bell of Qingfeng Temple still rings on time, and the Daoist chants in Zhuyuan Temple remain clear and peaceful.
Chaos was approaching, but he remained steadfast on his mountain, calmly awaiting the storm to break.