Kurongzi's Self-detonation

Xuanqing lowered his head and looked at the bloody hole in his chest. Black blood gushed from the wound, soaking through his white Taoist robe.

His Primordial Beginning Returning One Sword hovered at his side, the Golden Patterns on the Sword Body dim and lightless.

He raised his head, his gaze passing over the Shura King and landing on that black figure.

The Old Man Stood with Hands Behind Back, his face rigid, his beard and hair grizzled. He wore a black robe and held a pitch-black staff.

That face was one Xuanqing would never forget for as long as he lived.

That was Jiang Ling of Shouxian Pavilion. His master. The man who had brought him from the wild mountains into Shouxian Pavilion, his guide onto the path of immortal cultivation.

Xuanqing's mind went blank, and memories of childhood surged up like a tide.

He had originally been an orphan in the mortal mountains, his parents dead young, living by gathering herbs.

That year, he was seven. While gathering herbs in the mountains, he encountered a Demonic Beast and was about to lose his life in its jaws.

It was Jiang Ling who saved him, slaying the Demonic Beast with one Sword Slash and bringing him back to Shouxian Pavilion.

"What is your name?" Jiang Ling asked him.

"Xuanqing," he answered timidly.

"Xuanqing..." Jiang Ling repeated it once, then nodded. "A good name. From today onward, you are a Disciple of my Shouxian Pavilion."

From that day on, Jiang Ling taught him to read, taught him to cultivate, taught him the way of the sword.

Jiang Ling was his master, and also his father.

Jiang Ling said, "Xuanqing, your talent in the way of the sword is stronger than mine. In the future, your master will have to rely