Time hurried past, and in the blink of an eye, ten years had passed.
In a city far behind the lines on Huanwang Island, Zhang San sat on his sickbed, brow furrowed in thought, looking utterly baffled.
"Dear, you should rest. Why won't you take it easy even when you're injured?"
A pretty woman walked in carrying a bowl of medicinal broth. Seeing him like this, she could not help complaining.
Zhang San came back to himself and sighed. "All these years, I've been racking my brains for a way to counter the Demonic Path's Corpse Puppets. I always feel I'm just one step short. I can't resign myself to it."
"Then you still need to drink your medicine first," his wife said. "You fought so desperately last time. What if... what would the children and I do?"
Zhang San stared blankly for a moment, then said with a trace of guilt, "It was my fault. I made you worry."
Over the years, Zhang San had fought Unorthodox Path cultivators of the Demonic Path time and again, growing rapidly.
He was now a dependable expert in late-stage Qi Refining. His repeated meritorious deeds had also earned him promotion to Inspector, putting him far above ordinary rogue cultivators.
Moreover, he had married, had children, and established a household and a career, acquiring considerable wealth and influence in the local mortal world.
The sect had promised his descendants opportunities for an education. Unfortunately, none of his children had any affinity for immortality. They could only be taught worldly affairs and prepared for official posts in the mortal world.
But as long as he retained his standing within the righteous ranks, his descendants would multiply, and sooner or later one of them would benefit from his patronage and secure the position of an