Blocking the Way

Wu Rong sat at one side of the table, lifted the wine jug, and poured a cup for the cultivator across from him.

"Senior Brother, that is the situation."

Zhou Xinglie lowered his head to look at the wine cup before him. His face was reflected in the amber spiritual wine.

He was not as heartbroken as imagined. Instead, he was mostly silent, as though he had not yet realized that his master had already left, and he was still sitting in his junior brother's cave dwelling, drinking as before.

Wu Rong likewise said no more.

The silence between the two brothers made the cave dwelling exceptionally quiet.

"Thirty years." Wu Rong raised his head to look at Zhou Xinglie.

Zhou Xinglie seemed to have only just come back to himself, looking somewhat bewildered.

Wu Rong therefore repeated himself. "Thirty years. At most thirty years, and I too will leave the sect. I need to walk my own path. I must pursue the Dao."

"There may be no feast in this world that does not end. Living comfortably in a sect without danger is certainly pleasant, but I want to go farther."

"I want to become an immortal."

"Not because of Master."

"For myself. I want to become an immortal!"

"..."

Listening to Junior Brother Wu Rong, Zhou Xinglie felt as though he were meeting his junior brother for the first time.

Cultivation had never been comfortable; traveling against the current was full of hardship.

On top of that, believing himself untalented, he had taken charge of Great Central City. He seemed busy every day, yet he had forgotten the most important matter: cultivation.

He had to admit it—lacking talent meant lacking talent.

But that was not an excuse.

What mattered more was whether one possessed the heart to become