PID Chapter 96

(3/5)

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Xiao Mo’s loud reaction drew everyone’s attention. In truth, many eyes had already been quietly watching him since the moment he entered the teahouse.

 

It wasn’t surprising—after all, this man was simply stunning.

 

There were rumors that Chu Xianzun was unparalleled in beauty, though no one knew exactly how handsome he was. But the person they saw today undoubtedly deserved the description “peerless elegance.”

 

The storyteller smiled and cupped his hands in greeting: “Does this listener have any insights to share?”

 

Xiao Mo replied awkwardly: “…No, apologies. Just a slip of the hand.”

 

Since there was nothing to add, the storyteller continued.

 

“Chu Xianzun’s mixed reputation stems from his slaughter of his own family, leaving only one survivor. Some say it was to avenge his mother; others claim it marked the beginning of his violent and bloodthirsty nature. The debate continues endlessly. Yet before his Dao companion’s death, Chu Xianzun was merely a cultivator devoted to training, uninterested in worldly affairs.”

 

Xiao Mo’s lingering panic hadn’t subsided, but upon hearing this, he couldn’t help furrowing his brows. “The reason for him killing his kin must’ve been investigated thoroughly—why is there still endless debate?”

 

Having received a tip earlier, the waiter was eager to serve Xiao Mo well. As he wiped up the tea spilled when Xiao Mo slammed the cup and poured him a fresh one, he explained: “Guest, you must understand—figures like those in these legends are beyond the reach of us ordinary folk. Since we can’t meet them in person, everything we hear is based on rumors. Even if it’s about the same event, the details often vary.”

 

That makes sense, Xiao Mo thought. So “cold-hearted and ruthless” is likely just hearsay—not true?

 

The storyteller added: “Even Chu Xianzun’s fellow disciples from Yingyue Sect once said that if his Dao companion were still alive, Chu Xianzun would never have turned out this way.”

 

What kind of nonsense is that? Xiao Mo thought indignantly. Even if he were still around, Chu Jinglan would have sought revenge against the Chu family—and Xiao Mo would have been right there beside him, sharpening his sword and handing him weapons.

 

Quietly sipping his tea, Xiao Mo muttered to himself: Rumors truly grow more absurd with every retelling.

 

“Chu Xianzun’s devotion has become famous among major sects and noble families,” the storyteller continued. “While many admire it, some have begun scheming—thinking that if they could fill that void and become Xianzun’s next confidant, wouldn’t they be able to tie him to their own ship? But—” The storyteller snapped his fan dramatically and dragged out his words for effect: “Over three hundred years have passed, and no one has been able to become his next Dao companion.”

 

Xiao Mo: “Pfft—cough cough cough!”

 

He nearly choked on his tea.

 

Three—three hundred years!?

 

Three hundred years!

 

He had spent only moments in the fissure space, rushing to prepare for his return as quickly as possible—worried about being late. Yet despite all that effort, his worst fear had come true.

 

In the blink of an eye within the space fissure, three centuries had passed in the mortal world.

 

Xiao Mo coughed uncontrollably—not just because he was choking but because waves of shock crashed through him like a tidal storm, catching him completely off guard.

 

The waiter hurried over: “Oh dear! Please take it slow!”

 

Xiao Mo’s coughing left his eyes slightly red at the corners. He waved a hand dismissively as he tried to steady himself. His flushed complexion and striking features made even the waiter momentarily dazed before quickly lowering his head in fear of offending such an extraordinary guest.

 

After a moment, the waiter cautiously gauged Xiao Mo’s expression and asked, “Guest, are you interested in Chu Xianzun’s story?”

 

Xiao Mo steadied his breathing and placed another spirit stone on the table. “Speak.”

 

The waiter happily pocketed the tip, his face lighting up with a smile. “I’ll share some well-known details about Xianzun’s life. If there are any worldly speculations or opinions mixed in, just take them as hearsay.”

 

“Chu Xianzun is a peerless genius, unmatched in talent. He reached Great Perfection at the age of 100, and a hundred years ago, he became the only Return to Void cultivator of this era—the one and only Xianzun.”

 

Return to Void… Xiao Mo thought. That was a height Chu Jinglan had never reached in his past lives because he had always died too early. Yet now, alive and well for just over two centuries, he had achieved Return to Void.

 

He truly was destined to ascend to the clouds and stand above all others.

 

But three hundred years… Three hundred years! Xiao Mo had missed so much time. In the past, people only saw Chu Jinglan’s glory but never his struggles. During these long years, had Chu Jinglan endured more hardships? If everything had gone smoothly for him, that would be ideal.

 

They say time erases everything. For someone like Xiao Mo, who had left so abruptly—how much weight did he still hold in Chu Jinglan’s heart?

 

“Chu Xianzun left Yingyue Sect but retained the title of honorary elder. He even opened new spiritual veins and gifted them to Yingyue Sect as repayment for their kindness. As for himself, he established Du-E Sect in the southern region of Tiannan, claiming eighty-one peaks with the main peak named Du-E.”

 

At this point, the storyteller on stage chimed in: “It is said that each of those eighty-one peaks has unique scenery, with many showcasing some of the world’s rarest sights. Some were created by Chu Xianzun himself using divine powers to carve mountains and reshape land. And why? Allegedly because his Dao companion loved beautiful landscapes.”

 

Xiao Mo froze.

 

His heart stirred briefly before he quickly reminded himself: No, no—this must also be a rumor. Storytellers love exaggerating things. Besides, they’re clearly trying to embellish Chu Jinglan’s story with his Dao companion to make it more compelling for listeners.

 

The waiter observed Xiao Mo’s expression carefully and added to the story: “What the storyteller just said is mostly true—except for that last part about why he created those sights.” He continued, “Du-E Sect’s eighty-one peaks are vast but sparsely populated. How sparse? The entire sect has only one living person—Chu Jinglan.”

 

Xiao Mo couldn’t believe it. “Just him!?”

 

“Xianzun founded the sect a hundred years ago but has never accepted any disciples,” the waiter explained. “There were three individuals—Lord Lin Chun from Lin’an Academy, Little Immortal Doctor, and Golden Knife Expert—who tried to join after repaying their debts to Lin’an Academy where they studied together. But Chu Xianzun refused to let them enter the sect gates. So they built huts outside Du-E Sect and simply refused to leave.”

 

“Inside Du-E Sect,” the waiter lowered his voice conspiratorially, “there’s only Chu Xianzun and two hundred sword puppets.” Then he added in a whisper: “But remember how Demon Sovereign Fenxiu was captured alive back then? Some say he’s dead; others say he’s still alive—and imprisoned inside Du-E Sect. If he is alive… then there would technically be two living beings inside.”

 

A hundred years ago, Chu Jinglan broke through to Return to Void stage and became invincible. He captured Fenxiu alive and slew countless demonic cultivators along with Fenxiu’s followers from the demon race. His sword didn’t even spare corrupt individuals among human cultivators—it could be said that he single-handedly ended the human-demon war.

 

But that slaughter… Anyone who witnessed it firsthand—friend or foe—was left chilled to their core. Mountains of corpses, seas of blood, an Avici Hell wrought by his blade… The countless skeletons forged by his sword left many questioning: Should such a person be called an immortal—or a demon?

 

The world revered him but also feared him. Some called him an immortal; others thought him a madman—a bloodthirsty killer who would cut down anyone at the slightest provocation.

 

Xiao Mo thought quietly: Capturing Fenxiu alive back then was probably a political move by human cultivators—to use him as leverage in negotiations with the demon race. But it’s been a hundred years—what reason would Chu Jinglan have to keep Fenxiu around? He doesn’t seem like someone who enjoys torturing others.

 

It must be uninformed people adding baseless speculation.

 

Killing the Chu family was revenge, and killing enemies was to restore peace—how could anyone call Chu Jinglan bloodthirsty? They shouldn’t slander him just because they’re afraid.

 

Listening to all this, Xiao Mo felt slightly reassured. Chu Jinglan was still the same Chu Jinglan; it was just the rumors exaggerating things.

 

If people could spread stories about Chu Jinglan being devotedly loyal to his “dead Dao companion,” what else could they possibly say?

 

After all, he was the so-called “dead Dao companion.” Only Xiao Mo knew the truth—that when they parted ways back then, it had been a one-sided wish on his part to become Chu Jinglan’s Dao companion. To Chu Jinglan, he had only ever been a close confidant.

 

Now aware that three hundred years had passed and that Chu Jinglan stood at the pinnacle of the cultivation world, Xiao Mo put down his teacup and prepared to leave. Just as he stepped out of the teahouse, a mechanical notification sounded in his mind.

 

[Ding! The old Dao has been destroyed, and the new Dao has ascended. Congratulations! Mission complete.]

 

Xiao Mo: …

 

Xiao Mo: !?

 

He had barely stepped outside into the bright sunlight. Everything around him shimmered with a warm glow, making Xiao Mo feel slightly dizzy—as though he might be imagining things. He even wondered if he had misheard due to ringing in his ears.

 

But then, the system—which had been in sleep mode—was jolted awake by the automatic notification. “Oh my heavens! I just went into sleep mode, and now the mission is complete!? Host, you’re incredible—how did you do it?”

 

…It wasn’t a hallucination.

 

Xiao Mo blinked in confusion and unease, swallowing hard. “…Good question—I’d like to know too.”

 

Xiao Mo hadn’t done anything. He had merely returned to the cultivation world. If it wasn’t him, then it must have been someone else.

 

And that someone else was none other than Chu Jinglan—currently residing in Du-E Sect.

 

—

 

When Xiao Mo returned to the cultivation world, the Fortune Spirit Butterfly lazily sunbathing in the garden suddenly froze. Its body began glowing faintly as it flapped its wings and flew to Chu Jinglan’s window.

 

[Chu Jinglan, he’s back.]

 

Chu Jinglan’s eyelashes trembled slightly as he slowly opened his eyes.

 

He didn’t speak immediately, as though trying to discern what he had just heard. His gaze held light yet seemed devoid of it—deep and unfathomable. The snow that once symbolized purity had long since transformed into bitterly cold ice, weighing heavily beneath his eyes.

 

Gone was any trace of youthful innocence from his appearance. His features were sharp and strikingly handsome, unmatched in beauty. While his aura appeared calm on the surface, it was suffocatingly oppressive—so much so that even Heaven’s Will had chosen to possess the Fortune Spirit Butterfly temporarily to deliver its message. Under normal circumstances, the butterfly would avoid staying too close to Chu Jinglan.

 

It didn’t like this oppressive atmosphere or the deathly silence surrounding him—a feeling as though a monstrous creature might leap out from the shadows at any moment to gnash its teeth and drink blood.

 

After a long pause, Chu Jinglan finally murmured: “…He’s back.”

 

Outside, the scenery was beautiful, but the sunlight seemed unable to penetrate this room. After a moment, Chu Jinglan slowly moved his eyelids and repeated, this time with greater clarity: “He’s back.”

 

Meanwhile, in a secluded corner of the back mountain, beneath layers of formations, a tiny wisp of gas trembled violently. It seemed to sense its impending doom, and with its last strength, it roared: “I am Heaven’s Will! I am—”

 

Its voice abruptly stopped. In its final shudder, it disintegrated into nothingness, leaving no trace behind. The formation continued to flow gently as if nothing had ever existed within it.

 

[As per our agreement, I have completely eradicated the old Heaven’s Will.]

 

Chu Jinglan rose slowly, his expression indifferent. “Mm.”

 

Years ago, when Heaven’s Will offered him the chance to make a request, even it didn’t know whether Xiao Mo would return. But since Xiao Mo had come to destroy the old Heaven’s Will, didn’t that mean as long as even a sliver of it remained unextinguished, he might still come back?

 

With that hope in mind, Chu Jinglan made his first request: for the new Heaven’s Will—though already powerful enough—to leave behind a faint trace of the old Heaven’s Will’s aura, preserving that tiny thread of existence.

 

Three hundred years ago, when the new Heaven’s Will gave Chu Jinglan his memories, it was both timely and untimely.

 

Timely because Chu Jinglan learned Xiao Mo’s true identity and understood that he hadn’t disappeared or died, preventing him from completely breaking down.

 

But untimely because what had already been shattered wasn’t so easily repaired. At that time, Chu Jinglan had already developed a heart sickness. The flood of memories left him feeling disconnected from reality—as though he were reading someone else’s story. Yet the sadness was real, the sorrow was real, and the pain was real.

 

In his past life, when Xiao Mo wasn’t there, he could still carry his sword alone to protect the Dao and die freely in the end. But this time… he couldn’t.

 

Because his heart sickness had taken root. Half-mad and half-awake, those memories and truths served as a dam preventing him from falling into complete despair—but they weren’t a cure.

 

Chu Jinglan knew something was wrong with himself. But as they say, heart sickness is the hardest to heal—and it was true. He was fully aware of his deteriorating state of mind but couldn’t stop it—couldn’t stop watching as his spirit slowly rotted away.

 

For three hundred years, no one could save him. He tried to save himself—but failed.

 

And during that time… he felt fear.

 

What he feared most was this: What if Xiao Mo came back and found him so changed—so unrecognizable—that Xiao Mo no longer knew him? What then?

 

But he couldn’t stop himself from changing.

 

—

 

In the first century after Xiao Mo’s departure, Chu Jinglan managed to remain composed. He waited as calmly as possible, thinking: When Xiao Mo returns, I’ll treat him just as well as before and gradually let him understand my feelings.

 

In the second century, however, his patience began to fray. His thoughts and obsessions grew increasingly uncontrollable. He spent more time teetering on the edge of madness than in clarity. When he was lucid, he thought: If Xiao Mo comes back now, I’ll shower him with twice—no—ten times as much affection. I’ll pour out my love for him so completely that he’ll immediately understand my feelings and stay by my side.

 

But day after day passed—sunrise after sunset—and still… Xiao Mo didn’t return.

 

—

 

By the third century… it had been far too long. Far too long.

 

They say a hundred years is but a fleeting moment for cultivators—but not for Chu Jinglan.

 

The passage of time felt like oceans turning into mulberry fields and drops of water carving through stone. Chu Jinglan’s sickness buried itself deeper into an unreachable darkness—somewhere no one else could touch.

 

On the surface, he seemed like a normal person again—even more composed than in the previous century. Outsiders couldn’t detect any cracks in his facade.

 

But within that darkness… Chu Jinglan watched as flowers sprouted around him—flowers born from his madness. He knew then: I’ve gone insane.

 

In the third century, Chu Xianzun quietly thought to himself: If Xiao Mo comes back, I’ll put the most beautiful chains on him, forged from the strongest and unbreakable artifacts. I’ll build the most exquisite yet impenetrable house to lock him away.

 

From then on, he’ll only see me. No one else will ever lay eyes on him, and I’ll never let him leave my side again.

 

From the Fortune Spirit Butterfly emerged another butterfly entirely made of spiritual light, visible only to Chu Jinglan.

 

[It will guide you to Xiao Mo and bestow fortune upon him. You both will become Heaven’s Favored Children, and with this, my karmic ties with you are severed.]

 

Heaven’s Will could choose Heaven’s Favored Children as part of the natural flow of fate. However, no matter how those chosen lived their lives, Heaven’s Will would not interfere—that was the mark of a proper and impartial Heaven’s Will.

 

Chu Jinglan replied simply: “Mm.”

 

He took a step forward but then paused.

 

Half of his body was bathed in light while the other half remained in shadow. His voice, low and haunting like a whisper carried through a snowy, silent night, murmured: “…Will I scare him?”

 

Heaven’s Will had no answer. It chose not to speak and instead retreated without a word.

 

The glow on the Fortune Spirit Butterfly faded as it regained awareness. Realizing where it was, it quickly apologized: “Forgive me for disturbing you, Xianzun! My deepest apologies!”

 

With a flap of its wings, the butterfly flew away immediately. Chu Jinglan stood still for a long moment before glancing at a nearby mirror. Do I really look that frightening now?

 

After a brief pause, Chu Jinglan activated his spiritual consciousness and summoned his contracted beast.

 

A massive crimson-gold phoenix tore through the sky, its tail feathers trailing golden flames behind it. The majestic creature landed just outside Chu Jinglan’s courtyard, carefully retracting its flames so as not to harm even a single blade of grass or leaf.

 

“Master,” it greeted.

 

This was the Golden Flame Flowing Fire Phoenix, a ninth-rank beast with bloodlines among the most noble of all beasts. Once a tiny birdling affectionately called Qiuqiu by Chu Jinglan and Xiao Mo, it had grown into a magnificent creature whose wings could carry it across ninety thousand miles with ease.

 

Perhaps because it had been raised by Chu Jinglan and Xiao Mo since it was young—having seen Chu Jinglan’s former self and been doted upon—it remained loyal and obedient to Chu Jinglan. Its compliance wasn’t rooted in fear but in unwavering devotion.

 

Though there were times when Chu Jinglan’s killing intent had frightened it terribly, Qiuqiu always seemed to forget about it afterward, acting as if nothing had happened.

 

Chu Jinglan said calmly: “Shrink your size.”

 

Qiuqiu obediently reduced its form slightly.

 

“Smaller,” Chu Jinglan instructed again.

 

Qiuqiu shrank further.

 

“Make yourself small enough to perch on my shoulder.”

 

Understanding his intent now, Qiuqiu transformed into a small birdling once more, its once-grand tail feathers shortening to match its tiny form. It hopped twice on its little feet.

 

Chu Jinglan pointed to his shoulder. “Come up.”

 

Qiuqiu froze for a moment before becoming overwhelmed with joy. Flapping its wings excitedly, it flew onto Chu Jinglan’s shoulder, looking utterly flattered and delighted by this rare privilege.

 

“Master, are we heading out?”

 

“Mm.”

 

Chu Jinglan stepped forward, gradually walking into the light. His eyes carried turbulent undercurrents as he said softly, “To bring him home.”

 

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1 Kofi = 1 Extra Chapter