The Road Through the Mortal World

Leaving the Si Household's blessed land, Si Chen chose a direction at random and rode the wind onward.

Foundation Establishment cultivators could already soar through the skies on their own spiritual power, though they were not especially fast, and prolonged flight consumed a considerable amount of that power.

Below him lay mountains, and nothing but mountains.

As far as his eyes could reach, peak upon overlapping peak stretched without end.

The walls of his Lineage's estate vanished, his third uncle's boisterous voice fell silent, and even his mother's gentle gaze grew distant.

Heaven and earth suddenly seemed immense, and he was merely a lone youth in blue walking through their boundless expanse.

He did not feel lost. Instead, he felt the freedom of a wide-open world in which he could roam as he pleased.

When flight tired him, he found a mountaintop or forest clearing to land in, continuing to cultivate the Yi Wood Eternal Spring Art as he regulated his breathing.

Once he had rested enough, he continued his journey.

As for his cultivation, he remained at the Foundation Establishment Middle Stage.

His body, tempered by Yin Thunder, was far tougher than before. He estimated that its current strength would suffice to sustain him through his breakthrough to Golden Core.

To improve it further, he would either have to find the Yang Thunder described in the art and complete the second tribulation's body tempering, or rely on the slow, patient work of the Yi Wood Eternal Spring Art, waiting for it to nurture a profound foundation of a hundred or a thousand years.

The former required opportunity; the latter required time.

Neither could be rushed, so he accepted things calmly.

After roughly half a month of flight, the scenery before him finally changed.

The mountains grew gentler, and scattered fields began appearing below, their paths crisscrossing. Occasionally, he saw cooking smoke curling upward from mortal villages.

Si Chen landed on an uninhabited hillside, dispelled his Wind-Riding Art, and continued on foot.

The farther he went, the more people he encountered.

The main road widened. Teahouses and shaded resting pavilions appeared along its edges, along with traveling merchants leading packhorses laden with goods, farmers carrying shoulder poles, scholars with book chests on their backs... people of every kind grew more numerous.

Dressed in clean blue cloth robes, with handsome, refined features and an exceptional bearing, he inevitably drew a few extra glances as he walked among them.

But that was all. No one trembled at a glance from him anymore, nor did anyone whisper admiringly behind his back.

The feeling was novel.

He slowed his steps, observing everything around him like a true traveler.

Farmers bent over their work in the fields, idle chatter filled the teahouses, and the fragrance of freshly steamed buns drifted from roadside stalls.

For the first time, he was truly immersed in the mortal world without the "halo of the Si Household" surrounding him.

These mortals lived only a fleeting few decades. Even Foundation Establishment and Golden Core cultivators had no more than three to five hundred years... seemingly far longer than mortals, yet still a mere instant on the scale of stars being born and dying.

Yet even stars seemed unable to escape their destined demise.

Then what was the meaning of these mortals' struggle to live, bustling about before him, toiling and rushing for a mouthful of food and a livelihood?

He had once pondered why he could bring spiritual roots into being from nothing. While leafing through his Lineage's ancient texts, he had come across a term-

The Heavenly Dao.

What was the Heavenly Dao? The will of a planet? Or some grander set of laws?

If that was truly the case, had he once been part of the Heavenly Dao, back when he was the will of a star?

Did creating spiritual roots from nothing mean... that even after reincarnation, he still carried something beyond ordinary reason?

Some kind of... "authority"?

As he pondered, Si Chen sensed an unusual fluctuation.

That aura was the complete opposite of the vigorous vitality of the Yi Wood Eternal Spring Art. It was a... concealed aura, quietly devouring life. It was faint, and the fluctuation came from the market town not far away, where cooking smoke curled into the air.

Puzzled, he followed that aura into the market town named Green Mulberry.

The town was fairly lively, but a crowd had gathered around the source of that strange aura, and the atmosphere there felt oppressive and anxious.

At the center of the crowd, a middle-aged man in gray Daoist robes, his face seemingly quite kindly, was pressing his palm against the chest of an ashen-faced child.

The murky aura that devoured vitality emanated from that child and several equally listless children nearby.

Si Chen could sense that the gray-robed Daoist's cultivation was similar to his own: the Foundation Establishment Middle Stage.

Just as a faint light flickered in the Daoist's palm and he seemed about to do something further, he appeared to notice something. He abruptly raised his head, his gaze landing precisely on Si Chen, who had just reached the edge of the crowd.

A flash of surprise crossed the Daoist's eyes, as though he had not expected to encounter such a young Foundation Establishment cultivator here. He imperceptibly eased the pressure of his palm against the child's chest, and the faint sensation of devouring abruptly ceased.

Then a gentle white glow rose from the Daoist's palm. The child's face actually began to regain its color, and his breathing grew much steadier.

"Thank you, Immortal Master! Thank you, Immortal Master!"

A farming couple beside him, seemingly the child's parents, kowtowed repeatedly, weeping with gratitude.

The Daoist then followed the same pattern to "treat" the other children. Their complexions all improved considerably, drawing a chorus of heartfelt thanks from the surrounding townsfolk.

Only after finishing did the gray-robed Daoist turn toward Si Chen, offering a slight nod and a warm smile in greeting.

He said nothing more. His gaze briefly lingered on Si Chen, particularly on the seemingly plain Storage Ring on his finger. Then he turned, parted the crowd, and left with unhurried steps, seemingly unwilling to remain a moment longer.

Si Chen watched his retreating back with a slight frown.

He had distinctly sensed that the Daoist initially intended to draw something from the children. Why had he immediately changed his behavior upon seeing him, then hurried away?

He did not expose him, nor did he intend to interfere. Mortal affairs were tangled in cause and consequence, and he had yet to understand them.

His mother had also told him that when traveling, he need not dig into matters he could not understand and that had nothing to do with him.

So he withdrew his gaze and left the town as well, heading toward the nearest city, whose location he had asked about.

He rose on the wind again, leaving Green Mulberry far behind.

Si Chen flew for roughly the time it took an incense stick to burn. Below lay rolling, wooded hills, rarely visited by people.

Suddenly, a flash of spiritual light appeared ahead. The gray-robed Daoist had returned, appearing out of thin air to block his path.

"Please wait, fellow Daoist."

The Daoist still wore that same warm smile, and his tone was exceedingly polite.

"My name is Zhang Quan. Things were rather hurried in town earlier, and I had no chance to speak with you. To possess such cultivation at so young an age-which household's esteemed disciple might you be, out traveling the world?"

His words sounded like ordinary pleasantries, yet his gaze once again swept, almost imperceptibly, over the Storage Ring on Si Chen's finger.

Si Chen stopped as requested, hovering in midair. He remembered that his intention in coming out this time was precisely to leave his Lineage identity behind.

Thus, following the explanation he had prepared beforehand, he replied calmly, "Merely a rogue cultivator. I have no master or sect."

"A rogue cultivator?" The surprise in Zhang Quan's eyes deepened, then his smile broadened. "You truly are a heaven-blessed prodigy, fellow Daoist. For a rogue cultivator to reach Foundation Establishment at your age-remarkable, truly remarkable."

He offered a few more pleasantries, every sentence probing, asking who had taught Si Chen and where he came from.

Si Chen's answers remained simple and direct. He said only that he cultivated on his own.

Zhang Quan carefully studied Si Chen's expression. Seeing his clear gaze and frank tone, neither of which seemed feigned, his suspicions eased somewhat.

Come to think of it, if a twelve- or thirteen-year-old at the Foundation Establishment Middle Stage truly belonged to one of those ancient clans, how could he have no guardian beside him?

Most likely, he was a talented rogue cultivator brat who had stumbled upon some opportunity.

He changed the subject. "Where might you be headed, fellow Daoist? If we are going the same way, we could travel together and look out for one another."

"No need," Si Chen refused outright.

He disliked the aura on this man, and that carefully manufactured warmth felt false as well.

At the blunt rejection, Zhang Quan's smile froze for an instant before returning to normal.

He chuckled. "In that case, I shall not disturb your peace, fellow Daoist. The mountains stand tall and the rivers run long; we shall meet again."

With that, he cupped his hands once more. His figure flickered, turning into a streak of light that sped away in another direction, as though this really had been nothing more than a chance encounter and some idle conversation.

Si Chen watched the direction in which Zhang Quan had vanished, without immediately setting off.

He recalled something his third uncle, Si Shuo, had said while joking around: "Boy, remember this: when a weasel comes wishing a chicken a happy New Year, it isn't there to make friends!"

At the time, he had not understood, merely finding his third uncle's expression comical. Now, however, that man seemed to fit the description of a "weasel" rather well.

He continued on his way. That little suspicion did not take deep root in his mind; he treated it as nothing more than a minor incident along his journey.

Yet before he had flown even ten li, three vicious streaks of killing intent suddenly shot out of the forest below!

A sharp sword light, a crimson Fire Talisman, and several silver needles gleaming an eerie blue sealed off every avenue of retreat from different angles. The attacks were ruthless and aimed straight at his vital points, clearly intended to take his life.

Si Chen's eyes darkened. He shifted slightly sideways in midair, evading the attacks with effortless ease.

The incoming magical implements brushed past him, the gusts they raised stirring his hair.

He hovered in midair and looked down.

There were three ambushers, all at Foundation Establishment. Their ruthless attacks and seamless coordination made it clear that they were well accustomed to murder and plunder.

"You want to kill me?" Si Chen asked, his voice calm, betraying neither joy nor anger.

The three gave no answer. Exchanging glances, they brazenly attacked again!

Si Chen wove through their attacks like a blue-green leaf in the wind. Though his movements seemed perilous, he always evaded them at the final instant.

He was observing, learning. Their way of fighting was utterly different from the sparring and guidance of his second and third uncles back in his Lineage, filled with naked malice.

Just as he prepared to strike back-

"Stop! What scoundrels dare commit murder in broad daylight!"

A furious shout rang out, stern with righteous indignation.

Zhang Quan, who had only just left, had returned. He charged over with righteousness written across his face, the very picture of a chivalrous man drawing his blade to help upon witnessing injustice.

Yet the instant Zhang Quan appeared, Si Chen subtly changed his footwork. Rather than approaching him, he immediately put several zhang between them.

He was not stupid. Quite the opposite: he was very clever. He merely lacked experience in scheming against others, not the ability to read expressions and assess a situation.

Looking at this "perfectly timed" rescue, he recalled Zhang Quan's repeated glances at his Storage Ring, along with his third uncle's joke about the weasel...

His gaze swept over the people before him, finally settling on Zhang Quan's face, so full of "righteousness." Then he asked a question that stunned them all:

"Are you trying to kill me for my treasures?"